Matthew 28:16-20

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him but some doubted. Jesus said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore, and baptize all nations in the name of the Father, the +Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you. And remember, I am with you always to the end of the age.”

“I love it when a plan comes together.” (Does anyone else remember the A-Team? Murdock … Hannibal … Mr. T as B.A. Baracus? It was a show from way back in the 1900’s.)

John Hannibal, was the leader of The A-Team who coined that phrase, or at least made it a pop-culture thing at the time – “I love it when a plan comes together.” I watched the show faithfully, but had to look it up to remember that the A-Team was a group of special forces, military guys, who had been wrongly accused and imprisoned for war-crimes they didn’t commit. After breaking out of prison, these good guys were simultaneously on the run from the military police AND finding ways to help people in need, as benevolent vigilantes.

Anyway, the phrase, “I love it when a plan comes together,” was funny because, The A-Team was this motley crew of mismatched misfits who joked and argued and got into all sorts of trouble and fights and shenanigans as they did their thing. They achieved their goals, rescued their people, accomplished their missions, made their escapes … barely … by the skin of their teeth … every time. And, at the end of every successful mission, their leader, John Hannibal, sucking on a log-sized cigar, would declare – as though it was his design and strategy all along – “I love it when a plan comes together.”

This phrase came to mind because our plans have been all over the place the last couple of months where this building project is concerned. Securing reliable bids, getting a loan approved, scheduling congregational meetings, then re-scheduling congregational meetings, and all the rest have landed us here on May 31st – which for all sorts of practical, logistical reasons – was the last best option for all that’s on our plate for today’s Annual Meeting.

Which led to the practical, holy need for this Unified Worship service – where we can all be together in one place at the same time – which just so happened to be Holy Trinity Sunday, which is the Church’s invitation to wrestle with and wonder about and celebrate the unity of God’s nature – the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; the Triune God; three persons, equal in majesty; three in one and all the rest.

“I love it when a plan comes together.” (For a preaching pastor, this is kismet, serendipity, or it might just be the work of the Holy Spirit.)

And there’s also this Gospel reading where Jesus gives “The Great Commission” to “go and baptize and make disciples and remember.” But before all of that, what grabs my attention every time, is the notion that when the disciples showed up in Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go, “they worshiped him,” we’re told, “but some doubted.” They all worshiped him, but some doubted.

For my money, there’s not a more accurate description of what the church is up to, generally, in the world these days, and what we’re up to, very particularly as Partners in Mission at Cross of Grace, at this moment in time. They all worship, but some doubted.

“I love it when a plan comes together.”

I mean I’m glad we’re all here today – and that we show up week after week to worship. (… and to learn and to serve, too.) And I’m grateful to be reminded that, even with Jesus standing among his disciples, having done all that he’d promised he would do – up to and including rising from the dead – some of them still doubted. Some of them still weren’t sure. Some of them were still skeptical, cynical, afraid, maybe. Because that means we can be all of those things, too – and still be faithful. Because I’m right there with the doubters, more often than I’d like to admit.

I worry every year that General Fund commitments – never mind actual offerings – are going to show up in a way that supports and grows this ministry. I worry every year that Time and Talent offerings may or may not meet the needs of our nursery, a mowed lawn, a cleaned building, a Grace Quest program, and all the rest. And every time we’ve engaged a building project over the last 25 years at Cross of Grace – and this will be our fourth – I’ve worried that we are building too much, too soon, of the right spaces, for the right about amount of money.

And I worry most about you – and about whose doubts, discouragement, and disappointments are going to get the best of them.

But in spite of my doubts and my worries and my misgivings and concerns, I just keep showing up to this mountain I feel God has called us to. Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe it’s faith. I don’t know. But I just keep doing my best to worship and learn and serve, I mean. I doubt and I worship. I doubt and I learn. I doubt and I serve. And I do it all over and over and over again. And I’m grateful that so many of you join me for it, too.

Because I love it when a plan comes together … a plan only God can design, dictate, and deliver.

It’s a plan that looks like a wide welcome of love and affirmation for LGBTQ+ children of God – in a world and a faith that still doesn’t get it.

It’s plan that has helped to build over 100 houses in Fondwa, Haiti, right along with every square foot of facility we’ve built for ourselves around here.

It’s a plan that includes a voice for racial justice and equity that would otherwise be silent in a community that hasn’t heard all we have to say on the matter.

It’s a plan that has called us – as Partners in Mission – to baptize and confirm, to marry and bury, to feed and nourish, to party, pray, and otherwise walk together – by faith – through a world that can be so lonely and lost and without meaningful connection so much of the time.

It’s a plan that’s still in the making … a plan that’s still coming together … a plan that is messy and risky and cobbled together by an A Team of mismatched misfits and sinners, but full of beautiful things I doubt would happen otherwise, if Cross of Grace weren’t here continuing to grow, still building, and still sharing grace in the unique, bold, faithful ways God has called us to do.

And it’s a plan that will only come together if and when we seek to accomplish it BY God’s grace, FOR God’s glory, and GROUNDED in God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ, crucified and risen for the sake of the world we’re called to serve.

Amen

Matthew 28:1-10

After the Sabbath, while the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. Suddenly, there was a great earthquake for an angel of the Lord came and rolled back the stone from the entrance to the tomb, and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning and his clothing, white as snow. For fear of him, the guards shook and became like dead men.

But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid. I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He has risen, as he said. Come and see the place where they lay him. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead and, indeed, he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”

So the women left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy and they ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly, Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” They came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. And he said to them, “Do not be afraid. But go and tell my brothers that I am going ahead of them to Galilee. There they will see me.”

I hate to rain on our parade this morning, but please bear with me. I tried hard to find something light and fun and worth a laugh for this Eastertide, but I came up short. And, I decided there is plenty of time for bunnies and chocolates and dresses and bonnets and lilies and laughter and whatnot, over breakfast and Easter dinner. Because the more I spun this Easter Gospel around in my mind, the more I just kept hearing about the fear that seemed to be so much a part of what happened that day.

Everything we just heard took place in relative darkness, after all, “just as day was dawning.” An angel showed up in a flash of lightning. The earth quaked. The guards at the tomb shook with fear. The women must have looked terrified because they’re told two times not to be afraid. (But who could blame them, for crying out loud?) And of course there’s this dead man walking and talking and living and moving and breathing and surprising people on the road – after everything we know that happened to him on Friday.

So, this Gospel is a reminder about how messy and strange and crazy and terrifying, really, the resurrection must have been, that first time around. And, I have to say, it can suck the cute and the cuddly and the warm and fuzzy, right out of your Easter bonnet. And I decided that’s okay, because it reminds me about how much more serious and weighty all of this can be – in a good way – if we’ll let it. So, again, bear with me, please.

Because I have Iran on the brain these days, for all the reasons. Not the least of which was the news a couple of weeks ago about that 19 year old member of their national wrestling team – Saleh Mohammadi – who was publicly executed, by hanging, along with two other young men – Mehdi Ghasemi and Saeed Davoudi – for what many believe to be false allegations at best, and unworthy of such a punishment, regardless.

Anyway, all of this reminded me about a story from years ago, also out of Iran, about an Iranian family who spared the life of their son’s murderer, in the moments just before his public execution.

An 18 year-old boy named Abdollah was killed in a street fight by another young man, named Balal, who was sentenced – like these three young men more recently – to be hanged in public. (And before we gasp self-righteously about that, it’s worth acknowledging that we do our own fair share of state-sanctioned executions in the US and that there are politicians and activists currently lobbying to televise them for all sorts of reasons.)

So, back to Iran. Under Sharia law, a murder victim’s family is allowed to actually participate in a perpetrator’s execution and, in the case of Balal that I’m talking about, the family of his victim would do that by knocking the chair out from under the criminal whose neck hangs in the noose.

However, when the time came for Abdollah’s family to finally get their revenge, to enact their justice … instead of kicking the chair out from under the feet of their son’s killer, Abdollah’s mother approached the gallows, asked for a chair of her own, climbed up onto it, slapped the guilty man across the face, and then declared her forgiveness of him for all to see.

Her husband – the dead boy’s father – then helped his wife remove the noose, and they let the man who killed their son walk away and live.

There are a million lessons for us here – hard, holy lessons about revenge and retribution; forgiveness and mercy; about guilt and grace. (The victim’s family said living with their anger and hatred and inability to forgive their son’s killer was like living in a prison of their own construction; that their un-forgiveness was like poison in their lives. Islam’s Koran – their book of faith – is said to promise that “anyone who saves a life, saves a whole world,” which is something many people choose to ignore or deny about what our Muslim brothers and sisters believe, a lot of the time.) And I think Jesus would have us wish for and work toward that kind of forgiveness for anyone who hears this story, too.

But it’s Easter and, in addition to acknowledging that these are the kind of people being destroyed by the war that rages as we worship safely on this side of the empty tomb today, I think there’s even more for us here, than a command or invitation to live more faithfully; to do better; to be more like Abdollah’s family – or even just to be more like Jesus.

Because, as much as I hear a challenge and invitation to see myself on the chair where that grieving mother stood – with all kinds of power to choose vengeance or grace; to choose worldly justice or holy mercy – I feel as inspired as I feel guilty and convicted or worse, because I’m not certain at all that I’d have the faith or the courage or the kindness or the character to do what they did.

And it’s Easter, so I’m feeling even more challenged and encouraged to imagine myself standing on the other chair, with my neck in a noose … but surprised and overwhelmed with relief as that rope is slowly and surely, kindly and graciously, loosened and lifted by the goodness of God.

See, we may not all be murderers, actually sentenced to a public execution in the town square. But we are all sinners – each of us broken in some way that burdens us and that threatens to keep us from being everything God created us to be.

We are liars. We are cheaters. We are self-righteous. We are selfish. We are greedy. We are judgmental. We gossip. We manipulate. We take advantage of God’s creation. We vote with our wallets instead of with our conscience. We are silent while others suffer. We are filled-up while others starve. We could pile it on for hours, couldn’t we? So much so that we can imagine the chair of our lives starting to tip and totter and tilt beneath our feet; the noose around our necks tightening in ways that threaten to undo us with guilt and shame.

But it’s Easter. And today’s Good News means those sins never have the last word. The sins that lead to emotional, spiritual, even physical death in so many ways for us, don’t have authority over God’s grace in our lives.

Because it’s Easter – and this is the day of our second chance; or third, or fourth, or whatever. It’s Easter – and this is the day of our liberation. It’s Easter – and this is the messy, scary, crazy kind of day when we get slapped in the face by the grace of God and when we realize that our death sentence has been revoked … commuted … undone … and transformed into new life – on this side of Heaven and the next – in the name of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen for the sake of the world.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

Faith, Doubt, and The A Team

Easter Slaps