Lent

Grieving Well - Places That Have Not Known Love

Matthew 18:10-14

‘Take care that you do not despise one of these little ones; for, I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father in heaven.* What do you think? If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of your* Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost.


Have you ever made rock candy? I have not. But the process isn’t that hard. [Start video] To make rock candy you wrap a piece of string around something and let some of it hang down. Then you take a glass, combine water and sugar until it makes a thick solution, and then you drop that string down into the water. For a while nothing happens, a day, two days go by and you don’t notice a big change. But then all of a sudden, when the saturation point is reached, the sugar molecules begin to crystallize around the string. More and more crystals form, making the string harder and harder. Eventually, the string is completely calloused over with these crystals. That is how you make rock candy and it’s how shame works.

Over the past many weeks we have journeyed together through different forms of grief or different ways we experience grief. Some were obvious and common. Others were nuanced and unexplored.

Tonight we have one more kind of grief and it is perhaps the one many of us least want to address: grief for the places that have not known love. As Francis Weller explains, “These are profoundly tender places precisely because they have lived outside of kindness, compassion, warmth, or welcome. These are the places within us that have been wrapped in shame and banished to the farthest shores of our lives. We often hate these parts of ourselves, hold them in contempt, and refuse to allow them the light of day.”

We all have these parts of ourselves. It might be one’s body or a part of it that you loathe or won’t look at in the mirror, bringing about the self-image you’ve struggled with all your life. It might be the neglect you endured growing up or face now, leaving you feeling rejected and not just that you did something wrong, but feeling that something is wrong with you.

It might be abuse, physical, mental, or sexual, that you survived but have locked away hidden in the dark out of fear of judgment or reliving the trauma.

It might be one’s sexuality, the realization of who you were made to love, and at the same time rejecting that with all you can, afraid of rejection from family, friends, even your own faith.

And here is how shame is like making rock candy. We can endure some neglect or hurt. We can withstand some berating, self-criticism, and disappointment. But then there comes a point when we can’t. And with enough repetition, by staying in that solution too long, crystals grow around that thing and we become hardened. The internal stories associated with those events reach their saturation point and the fictions, the lies, the hurt crystallize into things that feel like truths we cannot break.

What is the thing in your life, in your very soul for which you are ashamed. We all have this and we all do our best to cast it out to the deepest, darkest parts of our souls where we hope it goes to die. But it doesn’t. Instead, we end up carrying around this shame, and it separates us from others and ourselves, bending us over, pulling us down so that we no longer gaze into the eyes of others, because the last thing we want when we feel such shame and self-doubt, is to be seen.

So like the sheep in the parable, we try to run off, to hide, to go astray. That is what shame does: it makes us think it’s better to be alone because at least then no one will know my shame.

Yet, that’s not how Jesus, our shepherd, works. The catch in the parable is that if one sheep goes astray, no shepherd in their right mind would leave the other 99! But this shepherd does. Here the words of the Psalmist as if Jesus, our shepherd, is saying them to you: “I have searched you and known you… I have discerned your thoughts… I am acquainted with all your ways… I know you completely. I surround you and protect you.

There is no place where I can’t find you or won’t go to save you. In your joyous moments and when shame has you in the pit of hell, I am there. You say you dwell in the darkness, but that’s where I do my best work. For only in darkness can my light shine through.”

Shame hardens our hearts; it makes us feel as though parts of us are outside of God’s reach, as if we are unloveable. But that is a lie. You are sought out, you are known, you are loved. In Jesus, God takes all our shame and the sin that caused it, and puts it to shame on the cross. We need not carry it anymore.

But what can we do? Is there anything, other than hearing this good news, that helps us address the shame that's hardened within us? And this is where grief comes in. “what we feel ashamed of, what we perceive as defective or flawed about ourselves, we also experience as loss. And the proper response to any loss is grief.”

So what can we do to move from shame to grief?

Here are three things: One, we begin to see ourselves not as worthless but as wounded. Because, if we are honest, that’s what we are. We have been wounded by ourselves, by others, and by a society that feeds off of shaming. And yet you have worth! You are made worthy through the grace and love of Jesus. It has been bestowed to you, given to you, and nothing can ever take that away from you.

Second, once we recognize our hurt, we can begin to see ourselves with compassion rather than contempt. With less condemnation and more understanding. The samaritan looked upon the stranger and had compassion. Out of compassion, Jesus fed the 5,000, gave sight to the blind, healed the sick, and forgave those who put him on the cross. The path to forgiveness for others and healing for yourself begins with a posture of compassion, never scorn or disdain.

Lastly, move from silence to sharing. This is nothing new. Over the last few weeks, we’ve heard the importance of sharing our grief. And The same is true for our shame. When we share it, all that pulls us down or keeps us away is lifted and we can begin to grieve the loss we’ve experienced. So share it with a trusted friend, with a trusted therapist or counselor, or with a trusted pastor. Most of all, share it with God and hide it no longer.

Let the love of Jesus break through the hardened lies that shame has formed inside our souls, giving light to our darkest parts.

Tonight we will practice exactly that. On your chair you have a candle. As Jeannie plays this next hymn, share your shame with God in prayer. Tell God of the parts of you that have not known love, the parts you’ve tried to hide. Invite God into those very places, to heal our wounds, move us to compassion, and soften our hardened hearts. Then, when ready, light your candle and place it on the way. And together we will see that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Amen.

Potato Chips, Clouds, and Seeing Jesus

John 12:20-33

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’

Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour.

‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ Jesus answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.


Where do you look to see Jesus? On the night before Easter, Carol Issak opened up a bag of Clancy’s potato chips from Aldi and as she pulled out that second chip, she exclaimed to her husband Vern, “look at this!” To which he shouted, “that looks like Jesus on the cross!” The couple took this sighting as a sign of hope in the midst of Vern’s health problems.

But if you don’t have luck seeing Jesus in your next bag of frito’s, perhaps you’ll see him seared into your next piece of meat or fishstick, as Fred Whan did back in 2003! The fried Jesus portrait is frozen safely in Whan’s freezer as he waits for the right time to sell it on Ebay.


And if you have no luck with food, maybe go for a walk in the woods and you’ll see Jesus in the trees, as some people did in a small Argentinian town. Now thousands of people flock to General Las Heras to see the fame woodworker on this work in the woods.

Or perhaps look higher in Argentina and you’ll be lucky enough to see Jesus in the clouds as Mónica Aramayo did. In 2019 she shared what she said was a perfectly-timed image she took on her camera phone to "bless" others online. i’m somewhat skeptical.


Seeing Jesus in the world around us is nothing new. For centuries, people have claimed to see a real, living Jesus on crucifixes in chapels, in visions when alone in nature, or by way of a divine stranger. Whether these encounters are true or factual or not doesn’t matter much, or at least it doesn't to me. Because what I think these stories, Jesus on the potato chip or a vision of him in the woods, really show is a desire, a longing, to not simply “see Jesus’, but to have an encounter with him and for that encounter to change something in their life. It reminds me of the Greeks from our gospel reading.

There’s this group of Greeks who have traveled who knows how long of a distance to get to Jerusalem. What’s curious to me is that these Greeks were likely not Jews, meaning they weren’t there to worship at the Passover festival like everyone else. These Greeks had their own religion. They likely prayed to Zeus and Aphrodite; made sacrifices to Ares and Athena, yet they’ve come all this way looking for something, looking for someone. No surprise that the group approached the disciple who bears a Greek name, Philip, and who comes from a mostly Greek town, Bethsaida. And they say to Philip, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus”.

Maybe these Greeks were unhappy with the religion of their parents; maybe they were frustrated by their gods; maybe they were philosophers looking for an argument; regardless of why, what’s clear is they want to see Jesus.

They don’t ask Philip to tell them what he knows about Jesus. They don’t want a list of beliefs. They don’t ask to join a committee or a new member class. They ask to see Jesus. And the word “see” here in John isn’t just the physical act of light hitting retinas. It means they want an encounter, to meet him face to face, an experience with this Jesus they’ve likely heard so much about.

What’s not clear in our passage is if the Greeks wish ever comes true. As soon as they ask, Philip goes to Andrew, and then they both go to Jesus to make the request. But instead of instructing his disciples to bring the greeks to him, Jesus jumps into some discourse that on the face of it, seems completely unrelated to the request: seeds dying in the dirt, loving and hating life, the hour of glory. What does any of that have to do with seeing Jesus?

This request from the Greeks is more than just a group of people wanting to see Jesus. It’s an indication that this movement has gone beyond the Jews, reaching gentiles now too.

Which for Jesus means the hour has come for him to be glorified, to do what he came to do; it’s time to be lifted up, for this single grain of wheat to be buried in the ground, and to draw all people to himself. In other words, Jesus is telling anyone and everyone that if you want to encounter me, look to the cross because that’s where you’ll see me.

It’s in the last place we expect to look. And Jesus says this is glory? For us, glory is wealth and comfort, beauty and success; but for Jesus, it means service, suffering, and sacrifice. The best view we get of Jesus, the place we encounter his grace, and experience his love most, is standing at the foot of the cross. Because there on the cross we see service, suffering, and sacrifice for the benefit of others; that’s what it means to see Jesus.

The question for us this morning is, If those Greeks showed up at Cross of Grace, would they see what they’re looking for? Would they see service and suffering and sacrifice for the benefit of others? Because that’s what others want and need to see. Maybe people are unhappy with the religion of their parents, or frustrated/hurt by another church, or simply looking for something, someone to tell them they are loved. Regardless of why, there is a longing, a desire to encounter this Jesus that so many have heard about. Do you see that, when you come here?

I do and I know others do too. Maybe you’ve encountered Jesus through the wide welcome and affirming love we share here. Or through a meal with our friends on the Eastside through our agape ministry. I saw Christ on full display yesterday as Emily Michaelis made vows to serve all of God people out in the world as an Ordained minister of Word and Service. And throughout Lent, I have experienced God in our Wenesday rituals as we bear our grief and suffering together. Hopefully you too experience Jesus in this place.

Yet, we don’t only see Jesus in the church, nor should we.

Like me, many of you kept an eye on the weather Thursday night, hoping the storm would pass and no tornados would hit. The communities of Winchester and Selma, two small towns in Delaware county, weren't so lucky. Reports I’ve read say at least one EF3 tornado hit the towns, maybe more. 22 homes had been leveled, more than 100 buildings had been damaged, and three people died.

Scott Ries was the only ER Doctor working at the local hospital that night. In a moving Facebook post, he set the scene. Before they knew all of what happened, 10 people were brought in: limping, bleeding, screaming, terror stricken. The Taco Bell across the street had just exploded. Within the hour, nearly 40 more patients arrived, overwhelming the hospital and this doctor.

Scott says, “but then, word spread... and I found myself surrounded by medical professionals ready to help. In less than an hour, 4 local physicians and 7 nurse practitioners,

nurses from all areas and even other hospitals, some of whom had just finished working 12 hours returned to the ER... respiratory therapists... xray techs... EMS personnel of all sorts... flooded to our side, with everyone asking one singular question in unity... "How can I help?"

Other hospitals called and said they would take patients, but all of the hospitals’ ambulances were too busy bringing people to this hospital.

Just at that time, the hospital CEO said, “Dr. Ries we have 21 ambulances lined up outside ready to take patients wherever you need them to go.” By the grace of God, no lives that passed through our ER were lost. While the long haul work of recovery for the community will now begin, I am so very proud of our extended team and how each member responded with such grace and willingness to serve.”

We don’t see Jesus in glory, or in the clouds, and certainly not in potato chips. We see and experience Jesus in stories like that, where service, suffering, and sacrifice happen for the benefit of others.

There, in the places we’d least expect to look, we see Jesus. Amen.