Acts 4:32-35

Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors on the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” When he said this, he showed them his hands and his sides, and the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. He said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so now I send you.” And after he said this, he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven them. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

Now, Thomas (who was called “the Twin”) one of the twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus appeared. So the disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands, and put my fingers in the marks of the nails, and my hands in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later, the disciples were again in the house and this time, Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your fingers here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt, but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” And Jesus said to him, “Do you believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now, Jesus did many other signs which are not written in this book, but these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you might have life in his name.

If I were to meet Thomas today, I would ask him, which would have been harder for him to believe: What we heard about in this Gospel reading from John or what took place in that reading, later in Acts, Chapter 4.

In John’s Gospel, immediately following Easter’s resurrection, we hear the familiar story about the unfairly infamous “Doubting Thomas” with all of that heavy breathing, behind the locked doors of that hideout of a house. There are Jesus’ holey hands and scarred sides. There are those commands to be sent into the world with the authority to forgive the sins of others, at their discretion. And there’s that invitation to “not doubt, but believe.” That’s a whole lot of hard, holy stuff to take in, to buy, and to make sense of.

But it’s at least as easy to believe, if you ask me, as what happens later in Acts. Did you hear it? Were you paying attention? Did you consider it with at least as much seriousness as Easter’s good news and Thomas’ doubts?

First, it’s worth knowing that “the whole group who believed” as we hear about in Acts, was bigger than just the handful of disciples who saw Jesus in that house with Thomas on Easter Sunday. By the time we get to that Acts reading, thousands had been baptized and had come to believe; believers and followers were being added to the mix every day. And this is what we’re told:

- The whole group of those thousands who believed were of one heart and soul. (How could that be?)

- And not one of them claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. (Can you imagine?)

- There was not a needy person among them, as the story goes. They sold their land and houses, and laid the proceeds of it at the feet of the apostles’ to be handed out, as any had need, no strings attached. (Call me “Thomas.” I’d need to see it, for myself, to believe it.)

Because that sounds like a cult to me. Or socialism, God forbid. Nothing most of us – and the culture surrounding us – are willing to believe or buy into, practice or propagate as faithful capitalists. But there it is, in black and white, lifted up as a model for faithful living, right there in the Word of God.

And it makes me wonder if people in the world might have an easier time believing the former – the Gospel good news that the love of God, in Jesus, was more powerful, even, than death – if they could see and experience the latter, from his followers like you and me – that kind of radical, selfless, sacrificial, generosity – I mean. And that’s a question we’re called to ponder, still.

…

We were blessed enough to have celebrated a couple of baptisms the last couple of weeks here, in worship – one, each, on Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday, too. Depending on which service you attended, you may or may not have known that. And, as is customary at Cross of Grace, especially when the family of the baptized and/or a sanctuary full of people who don’t usually attend Cross of Grace – or church, generally, for that matter, as is customary on a typical Easter Sunday – we make a deliberate effort at explaining ourselves.

What I mean is, we baptize at the back, by the door. We move the baptismal bowl. We encourage everyone to stand and turn to see it. And we explain our reasoning for that is two-fold. First, because baptism is a sign of our invitation, welcome and entry to the Church on this side of heaven. And it’s also a sign of our promised welcome into God’s heaven, on the other side of eternity. Hence, the doors.

And the second reason we turn our attention to the back, is to show that the kind of grace we celebrate, pour out, and promise to one another by way of Holy Baptism, is meant to turn us around, quite literally, in as many ways as we’ll allow that to happen. It’s meant to change us, utterly. God’s love is meant to inspire and transform the way we live and move and breathe in the world – here and now, on this side of heaven, in great gratitude for God’s love in our lives and for the sake of the world.

…

That’s what the good news of Easter’s grace and love and new life was doing in that room with Thomas and those first disciples – everything was changed and changing. And that’s what the good news of Easter’s grace and love and new life was doing in the lives of those followers in Acts, just the same – everything was changed and changing, still, for those who wanted in on the action, too.

They were so captivated by who they now knew Jesus to be – the Messiah, the Son of God – that they let that good news have its way with every part of their life, as individuals and as a community of faith. They devoted themselves to each other in prayer, fellowship, teaching, worship … and in sharing their money for the good of the cause, too.

…

Several weeks ago, before we got knee deep into the season of Lent, in preparation for Easter, we engaged some wonderful Holy Conversations as a congregation. Those conversations were about a lot of things – what we’ve been up to as a family of faith, what we hope to see happen around here in the future, and how we plan to make that happen. And we have some big dreams brewing among us. We heard about building projects, expanding our food pantry ministry, growing our influence in social justice efforts, adding programming for kids and youth, and more.

And we’d like to continue those conversations now that we’ve made it to the other side of Easter. Not in the same way. We won’t be hosting special events, happy hours, or luncheons and whatnot, like we did for those Holy Conversations. But we’re gearing up to make our General Fund financial commitments in early May, and we want to pray and prepare for that in the context of worship, learning, and service on the other side of the empty tomb – like Thomas and the first disciples; like the apostles and the throngs of the faithful, changed by Easter’s good news and wanting to change the world with the same kind of grace, generosity, love, mercy and forgiveness they had experienced, in Jesus.

That’s God’s call and my hope for all of us, every day that we live on the other side of Easter – that we’ll be so captivated by the grace and blessing of God’s love for the world, that we’ll return the favor as much as we’re able by sharing ourselves and our resources for the sake of what’s so unique about the ministry we share in this place, for the sake of the communities we serve.

And our ministry is uniquely beautiful as far as churches go in our community. I’m talking about our wide, sincere welcome of all people – and especially the LGBTQ neighbors among us. And I’m talking about our food pantry, our teaching about and our doing of justice for those others ignore, and our generosity when we get it right. (We have 25 grant applications to review for the $50,000 we get to give away from our Building and Outreach Fund.)

…

After that baptism on Palm Sunday, one of the family members of the newly baptized little boy came looking for me to very deliberately thank me for whatever I had preached that day and, generally, for the spirit of welcome and grace and whatever else he felt by being here. He lives out west, so won’t be back anytime soon, but he could see and feel something different about this placed than is true in so many other churches out there in the world. You all deserve to know that just as much as I do.

…

Like Thomas, sometimes you just have to see and experience it to believe it. So, I’m praying we’re all paying attention. And, like the early Church in Acts – growing and giving and sharing their resources and themselves – I’m hopeful we’ll all get in on the action in the days ahead, because I know others will be drawn to and inspired by what we’re up to when they see and experience the kind of grace we proclaim, right along with us, just the same.

Amen

John 3:16-17

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him may not perish, but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”

As many of you know, we’ve been coming at this wall of grief behind me, week after week, on Wednesdays, throughout this Lenten season. And tonight is the last straw, the last stand, the last hurrah … whatever we might want to call it.

I hope those of you who’ve been playing along remember what we’ve left here this season. For those who haven’t that’s okay. I’m certain you are acquainted and familiar with the road of sorrow we’ve been walking – that you’ve walked it, too.

… grief for lost loved ones;

… grief for the losses and destruction of God’s creation;

… grief for unmet hopes and expectations in our lives;

… grief that comes from those who’ve gone before us – from generation to generation – that still lives in our bones and in our bodies and still impacts our lives in the world;

… and grief, too, that is known only between us and God, that buries itself like so much shame, in our heart of hearts.

We’ve called all of this “Grieving Well,” because that was my goal for these Lenten days – that we would find meaningful, practical, holy ways to name the many ways grief and sorrow find their way into our lives. And that by naming that grief, by putting it into words, and by attaching to it some tangible rituals and practices, in worship, we would “do grief well,” in ways that are more real and true and faithful to our experience as people on the planet than we’re always allowed to be.

See, in a world that doesn’t encourage or always have words for – or a comfort-level with – grief, we aren’t practiced at doing any of those things, often enough. We are a people who grieve alone, too much of the time, unto ourselves.

We are a people that has convinced ourselves and each other that grief is, somehow – impossibly – something to be avoided.

And if not avoided, then kept to ourselves when it comes, so as not to show our weakness, or our fear, or our vulnerability; maybe to be polite and not make others uncomfortable about our sorrow.

And we seem, too, to pretend that grief is something to be conquered … accomplished, perhaps … so that we can get on with our happy, blessed, abundant lives, as the good Lord intends.

Well tonight, as I said, is the last stand and last straw for this kind of pretending and pretense. Tonight, God gets the last word. And it’s different than something I’ve ever considered before on Good Friday. It’s cosmic and universal. And it is much closer to home, too. Yes, it’s about God’s love redeeming the world. Yes, it’s about the grace of God being poured out, in Jesus Christ for the sake of all. Yes, it’s evidence that God didn’t send Jesus to condemn the world, but in order that the world would be saved through him.

And it is also God redeeming the world one grief at a time. It is God loving the world one sorrow after another. It is God’s heart breaking, right along with yours and mine whenever the sadness stings. And it is God reminding me that none of us was ever promised this would be easy. The story of Scripture is filled with nearly equal parts horror and hope, if you ask me.

And we do ourselves… and each other… and the world around us … a profound dis-service if we pretend otherwise; if we pretend that life in this world isn’t supposed to include suffering, sorrow, or grief, I mean. And God forbid, Christians, if we convey the message that life for believers is somehow supposed to be immune from any of the above. “If we say we have no sin, no struggle, no sorrow – or that we don’t feel separated from God, from time to time ? – we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.”

Because God shows us tonight that even God’s very self, in Jesus, grieved in that garden when he prayed that all of this might be taken away from him. He suffered. There were whips and thorns and nails remember. He was utterly lost and alone and separated from the heart of God when he cried “my God my God, why have you forsaken me,” and then descended into whatever hell that was for him.

All of that is to say, all of our grief – and God’s sorrow – gathers itself at the cross tonight. And we are called to see it there – our grief, and God’s – because God means for us to know that it doesn’t and will not stay there forever. We can name it. Claim it. Nail it to a tree. And we can watch God gather it all up, unto and into God’s very self, and transform it into something else, much to our surprise.

I watched Stephen Colbert interview Paul Simon last week and found Colbert predictably, reliably wise and faithful in the way he’s able to talk about grief and sorrow and faith in beautiful ways.

After Paul Simon pontificated a bit about the way he understands God and faith, he asked Colbert what he thought about it all. Stephen Colbert, seemed genuinely caught off-guard by the question (he’s the one that’s supposed to ask the questions on his show, after all), but this is what he said:

Having lost his father and two older brothers in a plane crash as a young boy – when he was 10 years old I believe – it’s not a surprise that Colbert wrestled with atheism for a time.

But did you hear what changed his mind? He said that he was “overwhelmed by an enormous sense of gratitude for the world.” And it wasn’t a sappy, happy-happy, joy-joy kind of gratitude. It was gratitude that comes even in grief – even for heartbreaking things – because, “grief with you is an act of love.”

“Grief with you is an act of love.” How beautiful is that?

We can be sad – deeply grieving – and yet there is joy there, because we can share [our] love and share our grief and heal and care for each other in the midst of it.

“Grief with you is an act of love.”

And I think that’s a perfect, faithful way to see just what God means to accomplish on Good Friday – on the cross – by way of Jesus’ crucifixion – for all of us and for all the world. And it’s what I hope we’re up to tonight.

“Grief with you is an act of love.”

God is saying – and God shows in Jesus – what “grief with you” looks like. It is, indeed, a profound act of love. Life on this side of heaven is hard so much of the time. There is grief and shame and sorrow too terrible to name, for too many of us and for too many of God’s children. But when we recognize that we are invited to share our love and to heal and care for one another, even and especially in our grief and struggle – as God did and as God does in Jesus – we are also invited to see and to experience this enormous, overwhelming, uncontainable sense of gratitude.

And we see, in all of that, the hope of Easter.

So, on the cross, may we see and experience the depth of God’s grief and sorrow for our own grief and sorrow tonight, that Jesus came to redeem. And may we trust that God shares that with us as nothing less than a divine act of love too mighty for us to imagine or deserve. And may we be moved by that love in a way that comforts us in our grief, that gives us hope in the face of our despair, and that promises us new life, even, on the other side of our greatest sorrow.

And may we share all of that – comfort, hope, and promise – as an act of love for the world around us, just Jesus calls and shows us how to do in his name.

Amen

Post-Easter Discipleship

Good Friday: Grief as Love