John 1:43-51

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, "Follow me." Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth." Nathanael said to him, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, "Come and see." When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" Nathanael asked him, "Where did you get to know me?" Jesus answered, "I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you." Nathanael replied, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" Jesus answered, "Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these." And he said to him, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."

There’s been a lot of talk over the past few months about my son Kyle’s upcoming birthday. Mostly, Kyle has been the one talking about it a lot over the last few months. Not only does this occasion make us think about presents to buy and cake to bake, it also helps Lindsey and I remember that cold day in January in Paducah, Kentucky, when Kyle was born.

I remember how I couldn’t wait to share the news when each of my children were born. I called both sets of parents, sent text messages to friends, and posted pictures to Facebook as soon as I could. By the time I returned to work I had a picture album that I brought to the office to show everyone.

Making an announcement like that is a unique experience. It is news that we simply have to share; and we never think or care about how people will respond. So many other times when we convey information to other people we wonder how they will respond to it. But not so with a birth announcement. We’re so happy and so confident our baby is the most beautiful one ever born, that we share the news without much thought.

I’d like you to take a moment to think about a time in your life when you felt compelled to share news without thinking how anyone would respond. Perhaps it was when you bought your first car or house; when you became engaged; etc.

There’s a wonderful example of this in today’s Gospel. In the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, he finds Philip and calls him to follow. And he does. And not only does Philip follow Jesus but just as importantly, he is compelled to go and tell someone else about Jesus.

Philip tells Nathanael, who, apparently, seems like a guy with quite a negative attitude! Nathanael, if you recall from today’s gospel, makes a smart aleck remark about nothing good coming out of Nazareth – a town that people view from afar with disdain and prejudice, as if the people from there are less than human or at least unworthy of welcoming to their town. (Which just might be a sentiment one could still encounter in our world today....ahem...say, perhaps in relation to Africa and Haiti...ahem.)

Surely Philip knew that Nathanael would react negatively to his invitation. We can assume they were apparently good friends; after all, aren’t good friends usually the first recipients of our good news? Philip probably figured that he would scoff, or make fun of him, or ignore him all together. But Philip goes and tells him anyway. Apparently this news was too good not to share, especially with such a good friend.

And I think what's just as admirable is Philip doesn’t throw up his hands in exasperation in response to Nathanael's dismissive remark. He doesn't retort something back, as I think I might. Or get defensive, as I know I would. Or walk away hurt or angry, vowing never to share anything with Nathanael again. No, he doesn't do any of these things. Instead, he just takes it in stride and answers, "come and see."

The good news of the story is that Nathanael overcomes his prejudice and bigotry. If his heart had proven completely hardened against the people of Nazareth; if he held so tightly to his worldview and infantile understanding of God, he would have missed out on the salvation that had just entered his life.

So, Nathanael goes and sees…albeit reluctantly. And his life is forever changed once he too meets Jesus.

“Come and see.” Such simple, open, and inviting words. Words, I think, that sum up the Christian calling. “Come and see” is the only fit response when you encounter Jesus and fall in love. These are the words we are compelled to share with others who are seeking something more from life.

Now, my initial impulse was to let this message conclude with a comment about how we need to invite people to our church. That our worship experience should compel us to go out and invite friends and neighbors to join us on Sunday mornings. More importantly, that we should be compelled to invite without any regard for how people would respond.

And while that message is true, it actually misses the more important point of the gospel. You see, Jesus was never concerned about filling the pews or getting warm bodies into the temple or putting more coins in the offering plate. To suggest that these should be the primary goals of our Christian life would be downright disrespectful to the truth of the gospel and Christ himself.
Don’t get me wrong, as a leader of a congregation, I like the idea of higher attendance, warm bodies, and more offering in the plates. And those are things that I work on. But as your pastor, my primary responsibility is help you identify God’s active presence in every aspect of your life.

Once we understand that God is as organically a part of us as our skin, or our eyes, or our hearts, then we can embrace the love of a God who created you and leads you through life.

And once we embrace God’s love and presence in our lives and encounter transformation ourselves, then we have no choice but to tell others about our faith and invite them to experience and embrace the love of a God for themselves.

As a leader of an organization I do want you to go and invite people to become a part of this church. But as a follower of Christ, what I want more is for you to go and invite people to meet Jesus and be transformed by him - to come and see.

It’s one thing to invite people to church; for many people it’s even harder still to talk about our faith. But, in the end, we don’t have the choice -- the news is so good that we simply have to share it, especially with the people we care about. And if they aren't interested, or dismiss what we're saying, or make some smart aleck response, like, “What good could come from Cross of Grace,” that’s okay.

We know that the good news of God's love for us and all the world can be hard to believe. We can understand that this news is so good it may seem too good to be true. So it's okay if they're not sure or walk away. It's not our job to convert, just to invite.

“Come and see.” Over time, with practice, these are words anyone can say. Philip said them. We can say them. Maybe not right away, but over time, with practice, these are words all of us can say... and eventually might even enjoy saying. Because sharing something that matters to you with someone that matter is, as Philip found out, is what life is all about.

Amen

John 11:1-6, 17-44

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’ But when Jesus heard it, he said, ‘This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’ Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’ And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said, ‘Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.’ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

Kate Braestrup is a law enforcement chaplain in Maine, a widow, and an author of some books I’ve just added to my pile of things “TO READ.” Her website calls her a “community minister,” too, though I’m not sure what that means exactly.

Anyway, she tells the story of Nina, a 5 year-old little girl, who wants to go visit her cousin Andy, which is only noteworthy because her cousin Andy – who is 4 years old – is dead. Andy was killed instantly when an all-terrain vehicle, driven by a neighbor, rolled over on him.

And Nina wanted to visit him … dead … at the funeral home.

Of course, Nina’s parents wanted to protect her. But Nina was sure and she was certain and she was determined. So Kate Braestrup, the wise, experienced chaplain, suggested that it might just be okay…that she didn’t think it would hurt Nina more to see him. And she was right.

On the day of this last goodbye, Nina’s mother said they drove their daughter to the funeral home where Nina jumped out of the car and marched inside like a little girl on a mission. Mom and dad rushed to keep up with her and stopped to prepare her before she entered the cold room where Andy’s body lay. They reminded Nina that Andy wouldn’t be talking. They explained that Andy wouldn’t be moving or getting up. Nina understood.

And when she got into the room, she walked right up to the dais where Andy lay, covered by a quilt his mother had made, and she walked around his body, putting her hands on him, like she was checking to see that he was all there. Then she put her head on his chest and talked to him. After 10 minutes or so, of what must have been a beautiful kind of agony for her parents, they asked Nina if she was ready to go. “No,” she told them. “I’ll tell you when I am.” And then she sang Andy a song. And then she placed a plastic, Fisher Price telescope into his hand, so that he could see anyone he wanted to see from heaven.

And when she was ready to leave, Nina explained that, since he wasn’t going to be getting up, she needed to tuck him in. So she did. She walked all the way around the table again and tucked the quilt beneath him as she went. Finally, she put her hands on him and she said, “I love you Andy Dandy. Goodbye.”

The chaplain tells Nina’s story – with her family’s blessing and permission – so people will know that we can trust human beings with grief. As she puts it, we should “…walk fearlessly into the house of mourning, for grief is just love squaring up to its oldest enemy. And after all these mortal human years, love is up to the challenge.”

I haven’t heard a more beautiful, hope-filled thing in quite some time. “Walk fearlessly in the house of mourning, for grief is just love squaring up to its oldest enemy. And after all these mortal years, love is up to the challenge.”

Now, remember with me that Gospel story we heard a moment ago… For a long time now, I have read and heard and preached about Jesus back in Bethany, with Mary and Martha, confronting the death of Lazarus, as just a way to show the power of God in the face of death. I think that’s something like what Jesus meant when he told people “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory.” And I’m sure I’ve even acknowledged, too, the power and humanity of Jesus’ grief at the death of his friend. The Jews who saw Jesus were impressed by his tears and weeping and at how “greatly disturbed” he was to have lost his friend.

But when I heard Nina’s story – and with Christmas on the way – I wonder if Jesus’ mission that day in Bethany, wasn’t something like the mission of that little girl, whether she knew what she was doing or not. I wonder if the glory of God that was revealed through Lazarus’ death and in Jesus’ visit to him was as much about his grief as it was about his power to raise him from the dead. Together, the message is the same as Nina’s. And it is the message and comfort and hope of Christmas, too.

Grief is just love, squaring up to its oldest enemy …

and after all these mortal years, love is up to the challenge.

“… Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not arrogant or boastful or rude. Love believes all things, bears all things, endures all things, hopes all things….”

I never know what brings each of us here on a night like tonight. Maybe it’s the grief of death and dying. Maybe it’s the loss of a job. Maybe it’s the frustration of addiction, a broken relationship, a recent diagnosis, a financial crisis, a struggling faith, an uncertain future. I hope some of you are here simply to stand beside and pray with and love others who need some help squaring up against their own grief.

Whatever the case, the invitation of Christmas is that each of us can walk fearlessly – or with less fear and anxiety perhaps, on our good days – into our mourning and sadness and fear when it comes. And I think our odds of doing that are better if we remember that grief (and whatever comes with it) is the depth of our love squaring up against its oldest enemy.

Grief is 5 year-old Nina walking into the funeral home to let her love for her cousin sing more beautifully than the power of his death.

Grief is Jesus making his way to Bethany, to let his love for Lazarus speak more loudly than his dying.

And it is God, born in the flesh – it is heaven come to earth – it is love come down – to square up against its oldest enemy: death and whatever fear and sadness and grief it brings.

And the Good News of Christmas – our hope in these days – is to remember that love wins … that “after all these mortal years” the love of God in Jesus, when it squares up against whatever grieves or scares or unsettles us most, is always… always… always up to the challenge.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Come and See

Blue Christmas - Grief, Love, Andy and Nina - John 11:1-6, 17-44