"Shut Up and Show Up" – John 20:19-31

John 20:19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of 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." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "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."

But Thomas (who was called the Twin ), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and 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 finger 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!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, 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 may have life in his name.


Whenever this bit about Doubting Thomas shows up – especially just the week after Easter – I side with Thomas. Frankly, I feel like Thomas gets a bad rap by forever being dubbed the “doubting” one. At least it seems like a bad rap to me, if the presumption is that Thomas’ doubting is a bad, or negative, or less-than-faithful way of being in the world and responding to the good news of Easter.

And I’m not one to throw stones, I have to tell you, because who could blame Thomas, really? I think I might have been right there with him – skeptical, cynical, afraid, doubtful, whatever – in the face of this Easter news, so soon after it had all gone down. And I would have been skeptical not just because the news was out of this world… crazy… unbelievable stuff about a man being raised from the dead. Never mind the unbelievable facts of the matter. The sources of the story – the reporters of the news – weren’t the most reliable bunch, remember.

These disciples, I mean, had been down a long road of ministry together, and time and again they had missed the point. They misunderstood Jesus’ teachings. They misinterpreted Jesus’ miracles. They misjudged Jesus’ intentions all along the way – as he spent time with sinners, while he healed the sick, or when he preached about the Kingdom of God. And just the week before, leading up to his crucifixion and death, one disciple betrayed him, another disciple denied him three times, others fell asleep on him in the garden before his arrest and every one of them left Jesus in the dust to be taken away and crucified. So it’s no wonder Thomas doubted what these knuckleheads were telling him they had just seen.

And I would say we’re no different, too much of the time. And that the world around us is filled with “Doubting Thomases” who have a lot of really good reasons – just like Thomas – to be cynical, skeptical, and afraid, even, about the motives, the mission, and the ministry of so many Christians in the world.

I read an article recently about what non-believers believe about Christian people, these days, and it’s not pretty, or easy to swallow. When asked what they would say to Christians if they thought we would listen, non-believers said things like:

Christians are hypocritical.

Christians hold modern beliefs that aren’t Christ-like.

Christians think that philosophy, science, postmodernism, movies, [and more] are out to get them.

Christians are judgmental, narrow-minded, and tell others how to live their lives.

Christians reject reality, think non-believers are horrible and unworthy, and condemn others.

Christians are arrogant, and think asking questions and searching for answers is a bad thing.

Christians are on the wrong side of big issues like discrimination against people of color, women, and homosexuals.

Of course, I don’t think these opinions are right for all Christians, but I’ve seen and read and know enough Christian people to understand why these stereotypes and opinions exist – and are true in too many cases. And because of them, it makes the prospect of sharing Easter’s good news in ways that will matter for people like Thomas – the doubters, the skeptics, the cynics; and the scared and the sad and the struggling, too – a daunting proposition. And sharing Easter’s good news is what we’re called to be about as people who believe it. It’s what Jesus was up to when he showed up in that room, breathing, sharing the Holy Spirit, showing off the battle scars of his crucifixion, and charging his followers with the power to forgive sins.

And my temptation – and I think that of too many Christians – is to see Jesus’ encore performance – the following week, when he showed up again, for the benefit of Thomas? – as a second attempt at proving his case; as evidence that couldn’t be refuted; as a closing argument for the defense, if you will, for the hard-hearted, closed-minded, doubt-filled disciple who missed it the first time.

But then I remembered something Philip Yancey has said: that “No one ever converted to Christianity because they lost the argument.” “No one ever converted to Christianity because they lost the argument.”

And it made me imagine that Jesus was up to much more than just proving his case or proving Thomas wrong. What Jesus did for Thomas was … whatever Thomas needed in order to believe, to have faith, to experience Easter’s joy and good news and new life, in a way that mattered for Thomas.

So, I wonder what that means for me… for you… for us… as we do our best to live with faith – and to live faithfully – in these Easter days so many generations after the fact when our faith and belief are so wrapped up in how we’ll vote and who we’ll vote for; when so many confess their faith in defensive ways; when so much proclamation and pretend evangelism happens by way of tweets and memes and bumper stickers; when faith is debated and debatable and argued and fought over in ways that drive away the skeptics and the cynics and the scared and the struggling, instead of drawing them closer to the light and life and peace and joy God means to offer.

And I think it means we do more of what Jesus did for Thomas: we don’t debate; or argue; or shame; or scare. We don’t state our case or prove our point with words or arguments or whatever.

We show up, like Jesus did. We share the waters of baptism and new life … not just in worship on Sunday morning, but by building water cisterns for families in Haiti, and by protecting the waters of God’s creation.

We show up, like Jesus did. We break bread, not just in worship, but in the world, by sharing food with our food pantry, or handing out those “bags of blessing,” when we see someone in need.

We show up, like Jesus did. We confess and forgive sins, not just as part of our liturgy, but daily, in prayer and in person, and for and with the people in our lives.

We show up, like Jesus did. We breathe and we live and move and have our being among believers and non-believers and other kinds of believers in this world, bestowing peace by way of our actions and presence and patience and grace.

We show up, like Jesus did. We show our scars, acknowledging our brokenness and our struggles and our fears and our doubts. And when we’re able – with honesty, integrity, hope, and joy – we share how God has filled the holes of that brokenness with light and life and healing and promise.

Because when we do these things – if we just show up and maybe shut up more often – we become the hands and feet of the resurrected Jesus, and others will see God’s grace at work among us and come to believe and share in this new life that belongs to us all.

Amen

"But, Guess What?" - Luke 24:1-12

Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking with them the spices they had prepared. They saw the stone rolled away from the entrance to the tomb, but when they went in, they did not see the body.

While they were perplexed about this, suddenly there appeared before them two men, in dazzling white. The women were terrified and they bowed their faces to the ground. But the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, he has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must suffer at the hands of sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day, rise again.” Then they remembered his words and they left the tomb and told all of this to the eleven and all the rest.

Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James who told this to the disciples. But their words seemed to them and idle tale and they didn’t believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb. Stooping and looking inside, he saw the linen cloths lying there. And he went home, amazed at what had happened.


As usual, I’ve been stewing about an Easter Sunday sermon or a few weeks now, wondering what new, different, noteworthy thing could be said about the Good News of it all, again, this year. I’ve been noodling this version of the story from Luke 24 around for days, wondering what word or turn of phrase would get my attention and be meaningful and have something to say for us. Words like “perplexed,” “dazzling white,” “terrified,” “amazed,” all have emotions and images attached to them that gave me some possibility, for sure. But, I imagine academic, exegetical, theological treatises and sermons and volumes have been written and preached and taught about all of that ad nauseam over the years. So, I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired to add to it.

And then I remembered something. If you were here last week for the 10:45 a.m. Children’s Sermon, with “The Box,” you might have noticed. Kyle Stamper had loaded “The Box” with super-heroes – Iron Man, The Hulk, Captain America, and Wolverine, to be specific. And it made a nice children’s sermon, I thought, about how Jesus is the real, surprising super hero in all of this, Lenten/Easter stuff, because he’s weak, not strong; he’s humble, not proud; he’s gentle, not mighty. In other words, Jesus’ superpowers aren’t anything comic books would consider powerful or mighty or worthwhile, in any way, really.

And as I was doing my best to share all of that with the kids during the Children’s Sermon last week, Kyle kept interrupting me and talking over me and adding his own two cents in the cutest, most profound and persistent way. He just kept saying, “but guess what…” “but guess what…” “but guess what…” (It’s much cuter when Kyle says it.)

And I decided, in some ways, there’s nothing more or less than that to Easter’s good news.

“BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.”

If you didn’t catch it the first time around, that’s how our Easter Gospel begins for today…that little three-letter word…and that’s how Easter’s Good News is always supposed to sound for us. “BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.” And guess what…

See, that little three-letter word matters, because just before what we heard this morning some horrible things had happened, right?

Jesus was betrayed. Jesus was arrested. Jesus was denied by his friends. He was whipped and crowned with thorns and spit upon and pierced and crucified and left for dead on the cross. Jesus was wrapped in linen grave clothes and buried in some stranger’s tomb. The disciples were likely in hiding, afraid for their lives. The women left him in that tomb and went home to rest on the Sabbath, because that’s what good, faithful Jewish women were supposed to do, even in their grief.

“BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.” And guess what?

This is the good news of Easter, people: “But, guess what…?” “But, guess what…?” “But, guess what…?”

There’s been another terrorist attack in Belgium. Dozens have died. Hundreds are injured. BUT… on the first day of the week…they went to the tomb. And guess what?

Our country is confused and confounded about who our next President should or should not be. It seems at least half of us are going to be disappointed, no matter which way this all goes. BUT…on the first day of the week…they went to the tomb. And guess what?

He still can’t find a job… her relationship is failing…the cancer won’t go away… … the addiction seems to be winning…they lost the baby. But, guess what…? But, guess what…? But, guess what…?

Now, don’t get me wrong. None of this is that easy. I don’t mean to minimize or simplify or pretend that the struggles of our daily lives and the fears that keep us up at night can or should be dismissed with a simple “but…” because we all know things are never that easy.

But, guess what? It’s always been that way. And that’s been faith’s story and God’s promise and humanity’s hope, since the beginning of time.

The story of Adam and Eve tells us they were banished from the garden, but guess what? God wouldn’t lock them out forever. The flood happened in the days of Noah, and all hell broke loose, but guess what? God promised never to let that happen again. The chosen ones wandered in the wilderness for a really long time, but guess what? God fed them and led them and showed them a way home. And then there was Jesus – again crucified and left for dead – but guess what? He wasn’t/he isn’t in the tomb any longer, and we don’t have to be either.

God’s good news for us at Easter is as persistent and as earnest as a child’s best intentions: “But, guess what?”

It’s not trite. It is the Truth.

In response to our darkest days, our greatest fears, our deepest misgivings, our loneliest moments, our ugliest sins, our most profound failures – and we all have them – we are invited to show up at the empty tomb and hear God say, “But, guess what…?”

Guess what…none of that is here – not the darkness any longer, not the fear, not the sins, not the failure. Guess what?  It’s been obliterated, forgiven, undone, raised – as far as God’s concerned – and it doesn’t need to hold sway over your life anymore.

So let’s consider Good Friday’s cross in the light of this new day. Let’s remember or see there all the ugliness that was heaped upon God’s very own self, in Jesus. Let’s acknowledge the sadness and shame of whatever that means for each of us – and let’s acknowledge the death – literal and figurative – that it leads to for all of us. And let’s be as surprised and as amazed and as filled with joy as those women, and as Peter, and as the first disciples, too, once they finally received the news:  because guess what… God always wins. Love always wins. Light and life and forgiveness and mercy and second chances always win, in Jesus Christ our Lord, crucified and risen for the sake of the world.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.