Tag Archives: Easter

May14

Raising Tabitha: an Easter Story of Grief, Moving Forward, and Breathing Life into Death – Sermon on Acts 9:36-43

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“Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” So Peter got up and went with them; and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.” – Acts 9:36-43

*****

This past week, my facebook, instagram, and twitter feeds have been filled with posts and articles lamenting the sudden death of Rachel Held Evans, a progressive 37 year old Christian author and blogger. And it’s no wonder: Rachel has made an incredible impact on millions of people, particularly many who are vulnerable and who have been disheartened, hurt, or rejected by the church.

As two other Christian authors and speakers – Sarah Bessey and Jeff Chu – wrote in the Washington Post: “Rachel was ‘for’ an all-embracing vision of Christ’s church and the relentless inclusion of refugees and those suffering poverty, of LGBTQ people, of women and especially women of color, of the unseen and unheard and swept aside… She used her writing to build the bridges so many of us needed to get back to God’s love, to one another, and to the church.”

As I was watching this large community grieve on social media this past week, I was reminded of Tabitha in this morning’s passage in Acts and how she – too – must have made such an impact on her community.

You see, Tabitha had a special ministry for a group of widows, who were in dire need of a provider, a place to belong, and somewhere to have a voice. Because a woman at this time had no inheritance rights and was defined by the social status of first her father, and then her husband, when she lost her husband or her connection with her father or brothers, she also lost her identity, her possessions, her property, and her place of belonging. Widows were considered outcasts in society and were often taken advantage of and were exposed to abuse and oppression.

Because of this, widows usually had to rely on public charity to provide for them in order to survive. And, yet, they did not always find such a provider of charity in the early church. Just a few chapters before our passage for today in Acts we see that the Greek-speaking widows were being neglected of the daily distribution of food. This was such an issue in the early church that it led to the twelve apostles appointing a committee to make sure all the widows were cared for.

In our text for today, we see that Tabitha – the only woman in the entire Bible who was called a disciple – was a sort of provider for her community of widows. We don’t know where she got the financial means to support them. We just know that somehow she acquired some wealth. And she used it – along with her artistic and creative abilities – to help those who were in need the most.

Acts tells us that she was devoted to good works and charity, and she made tunics and other articles of clothing by hand and had given them to the widows. These articles of clothing would have been very valuable in the first century, and it would have taken an incredible amount of time for Tabitha to make each item. And yet, she sacrificed her time and money to make these pieces of clothing. She saw the needs of these widows. And – like Rachel Held Evans – out of love and compassion, Tabitha used her privilege and her gifts to help those who were most vulnerable.

Tabitha was loved and cherished by her community of widows. So it is no wonder that they mourned so much when she died. It is no wonder that they called out of desperation for Peter when they heard he was near Joppa.  For he was the one – who by the power of the Holy Spirit – had been performing great miracles in the name of Jesus.

It is no wonder that when he arrived, they wept and passed around their tunics and articles of clothing that were made by Tabitha, reminding themselves and one another of the memories they shared with her and of the many pieces of clothing she had woven out of love and compassion for them. These women had lost their dear friend and the one who had clothed them with the love of Jesus, invested in them, empowered them to speak their voice, and find belonging where they had not found it elsewhere.

“There is a sacredness in tears,” an author once wrote. “They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

And so when Peter enters this upper room and sees the amount of tears these widows were shedding and the loss they were experiencing, he falls to his knees.

This reminds me of a scene in the movie Life Itself. Rodrigo, a college student who is studying in New York, goes home to Spain during a college break. While he is in Spain, his mother finds out she is terminally ill, and so Rodrigo tells his mother he wants to stay home with her. But as he stands next to her bedside, she convinces him to go back to school and to continue to live his life. “Life brings you to your knees,” she tells him in her final goodbye to him. “It brings you lower than you think you can go. But if you stand back up and move forward, if you go just a little further, you will always find love.”

Sometimes life brings us to our knees. And when it does, we might just need to kneel in that place of grief and hold it for a while.

But eventually – when we are ready – we will need to stand back up and move forward.

Now, moving forward should not be confused with moving on. Nora McInerny explains this in her Ted Talk about grief.

As she discusses how she has remarried since losing her husband Aaron to cancer, she says: “By any measure, life is really good. But I have not moved on. I hate that phrase so much… because what it says is that Aaron’s life and death and love are just moments that I can leave behind me – and that I probably should. When I talk about Aaron, I slip so easily into the present tense, and I’ve noticed that everybody [who has lost a loved one] does it.

And it’s not because we are in denial or because we’re forgetful,” she continues. “It’s because the people we love, who we’ve lost, are still so present for us. So when I say: oh, Aaron is… it’s because Aaron still is. He is present for me in the work that I do, in the child that we had together, in these three other children I’m raising who never met him, who share none of his DNA, but who are only in my life because I had Aaron, and because I lost Aaron. He’s present in my marriage to Matthew because Aaron’s life and love and death made me the person that Matthew wanted to marry. So I’ve not moved on from Aaron. I’ve moved forward with him.”

Sometimes life brings us to our knees. But if we stand back up and move forward, if we go just a little further, we will find love.

Peter sure does in our passage in Acts.

Seeing how the livelihoods of this community of widows were completely dependent upon Tabatha’s care, Peter makes sure that her spirit and ministry live on. And so – there in that upper room – Peter breaths new life into death. He stands up, moves forward, and does not only find love, but he passes it on.

There is so much death in our world around us. Illness. Shootings. The deadly affects of climate change. Poverty, racism, all kinds of hate.

There is so much death, that we are often brought to our knees.

But when we are, we can find hope as we remember, Tabitha, who breathed new life into the death rooms of her community of widows. And who’s love will carry on because Peter breathed new life into her death room.

We can find inspiration as we remember Rachel Held Evans, who breathed new life into the death rooms of millions of disheartened and hurting Christians. And who’s love will carry on as the people she has impacted will continue to breath new life into the places of death around them.

We can find healing as we remember our own loved ones, who breathed new life into our lives when we felt dead. And who’s love will continue to live on in and through us.

So, let us choose to stand up, move forward, and join those who have gone before us in breathing new life into the places of death around us.

This is what it means to for us to live as resurrection people. This is how we proclaim that Christ is risen, indeed.

Easter reveals to us that death is not the end of the story. Death does not have the final say. In his resurrection, Jesus has conquered death and breaths forth new life.

So may we rise up and join him in this life-giving work.

Amen.

Apr1

Guest Post at Conversations on the Fringe: “For the Women Who Hear ‘You Cant’s’: An Easter Story If Hope”

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Today I’m writing over at Conversations on the Fringe.

“For all the women out there whose loving Jesus has been crucified before your very own eyes: may you find hope in this Easter Story, as well. When others around you ridicule, spit on, and beat down the Jesus who has claimed and cherished you, follow him to the cross. When you witness his crucifixion, visit his tomb… over and over and over again.

The promise in this Easter story is that no matter how loud those voices are around you that mock and deny your Jesus, death will not defeat him. And though these voices wish to silence him, he is proclaiming on your behalf louder than ever as he hangs silently and still from the cross.

And in a few days time, the Jesus you once knew and loved will appear to you in full form – claiming you as his own and commissioning you – his beloved – to speak your voice and share this good news.”

You can read the rest here.

Apr13

“Peace Be With You” – A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter on John 20:19-31

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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.” – John 20:19-31

This morning’s passage in John occurs in the late afternoon – on the same day Mary Magdalene went to the tomb where Jesus’s body had been buried, found the tomb empty, and was later visited by the resurrected Jesus. And so our passage this morning begins after Mary shares this great news to the disciples that Jesus is risen and alive.

But instead of rejoicing, the disciples run off to one of their homes, close the doors behind them, and lock them … out of fear.

Out of fear that those who had attempted to silence Jesus by arresting him and putting him to death would now come after them. And especially out of fear of Jesus, himself. Now that he is alive, what would Jesus think of his friend Peter, who denied that he knew Jesus – not just one time, but three times – after Jesus was arrested? And what about the other disciples – Jesus’ closest friends who had been traveling with him for three years? How could they face Jesus after he had cared for and invested in them for so long, and yet the minute he was arrested, they bailed on him: they fled and left him to fend for himself in his most excruciating moments as he was spit on, ridiculed, and beaten, nailed to a cross, and hung from it until he took his final breath? Would Jesus be so infuriated with them that he would give up on them? Would he deny, betray, and even condemn them because they had denied and betrayed him? Would they no longer have a place in the Kingdom of God?

*****

I can often relate to Jesus’ disciples in this passage. There have been many times throughout my life when I have denied and betrayed Jesus, and because of this, I tend to avoid him out of fear of what he might think of me or say to me – were I to actually confront him in those moments. And I wonder if there are others here this morning who can relate to these disciples, as well. I wonder if many of us often choose to run and hide behind closed and locked doors, in attempts to keep Jesus out of our lives, because we fear what he might think and say about our failures, our insecurities, or our actions of denying, avoiding, and betraying him. I wonder if many of us choose to run and hide because we fear that if we actually do unlock the door for Jesus to enter into our lives, he just might not like what he sees.  

*****

Yet, in our passage, when the disciples hide behind closed doors – hoping to avoid Jesus and what he might say and do were he to find them – they are unsuccessful. Even behind locked doors, Jesus shows up. And yet, he does not appear to them in the way they had expected and feared. Jesus doesn’t show up angry, bitter, and judgmental. He doesn’t order them to give him answers to why they denied, betrayed, or even hid from him. He doesn’t demand that they ask him for forgiveness. Instead, he just shows up, holds out his wrists so that they can touch the holes where he had been nailed to the cross and points to his side so they can see the gash where he had been stabbed with a spear, and he says: “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

You see, instead of coming with vengeance and wrath – as the disciples had feared – Jesus just shows up to them – in the midst of their fears and failures – and immediately and freely offers them the peace, love, and grace of God – before they even have the chance to open their mouths to explain their actions or to ask him for forgiveness. Jesus just shows up to them in that small home where they were hiding from and avoiding him – because Jesus wanted them to know that no matter what, they are claimed as God’s beloved children and are cherished and loved by God unconditionally.

*****

Not all of the disciples were present to witness Jesus as he appears to them. Thomas, the twin, is missing for some reason. It may have been because he was out running errands at the local market or had gone to find out for himself if Jesus was alive. We don’t know. But whatever the reason, Thomas misses out on this incredible event.

And so you can just imagine his surprise when he later comes to the home after Jesus had departed, and is greeted by the other disciples who tell him that they had just seen their friend Jesus. That the one who had been arrested, killed on the cross, and buried in the tomb only a few days before is now alive and is offering them new life, as well.

But Thomas doesn’t believe it.

Now, I have heard this passage from John preached on a lot. And unfortunately, I have heard too many sermons and I’ve read too many commentaries on this text that do it a disservice by emphasizing Thomas’ doubts and his questions and by suggesting that because of these doubts and questions, this “Doubting Thomas” was unfaithful.

I don’t know about you, but if that were me coming back to the rest of the disciples, I’d respond just as Thomas did. I’d think these disciples were crazy.  Or at least I’d think they were playing me. And like Thomas, I would hold onto my doubts and questions.  I would refuse to believe until Jesus, himself, held out his scarred hands in front of my eyes and allowed me to touch his wounded side.

And, yet, even though Thomas doubted that Jesus had been raised from the dead and had appeared to his friends, and even though he missed out on Jesus the first time Jesus showed himself to the disciples, a week later Jesus comes back to the home and appears to Thomas, as well. Jesus comes back to the home so that Thomas can see, touch, and experience Jesus for himself. And without judgment or condemnation, Jesus asks Thomas to touch his wounded hands and side and he says: “Peace be with you.”

*****

This morning, as we began worship, we offered up thanksgiving for our baptism. And boy, do we have a lot to be thankful for. For, just as Jesus showed up to his disciples in our passage in the Gospel of John, claiming them as his beloved children, Jesus shows up to us in and through our baptism, as well.

You see, our baptism promises that even in our times of fear, doubts, and questioning – and even when we choose to deny, flee, and hide behind closed and locked doors – Jesus has and will show up. And when he does, he claims us as God’s beloved children – no matter our failures or actions against him – and he offers us his peace and grace before we can even ask for forgiveness or even acknowledge our wrongs.

And even if we, like Thomas, miss the first or second or third time Jesus shows up and even if we shut our eyes, turn the other way, or go out the backdoor when he comes to us in order to avoid him, Jesus will keep on lovingly and patiently returning to us over and over and over again until we are ready to open our eyes to see him, reach out our hands to touch him, and accept the peace, forgiveness, and unconditional love he offers us.  

In our baptism, we are claimed by our compassionate and merciful God – who loves us in and through all of our failures, our insecurities, our doubts and our questions. In our baptism, we are called and welcomed into this Kingdom of God that is full of grace.  We are welcomed into this Kingdom of God that nothing and no one can keep us from. For, as Paul stated in his letter to the Romans: “not even death nor life, not even angels nor demons, not even the present nor the future, nor anything we have done or will do – can separate us from this love of God.”

So as we continue to journey through this Easter season, learning to live as Easter people and proclaiming the good news that Jesus has risen, let us also continue to remember our baptism. Let us remember that each one of us has been welcomed into the Kingdom of God and each one of us is and will always be claimed by God as God’s beloved and cherished child. Because no matter what we do or say or think, in the midst of all of our fears, failures, and doubts, Jesus will keep on showing up to us, offering us God’s peace whenever we are ready to accept it. And no matter how imperfect we may be – just like the earliest disciples, Jesus continues to call out to us in and through our baptism: “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

So let us go – as Jesus sends us – out into the world as Easter people, proclaiming this good news that Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

Amen.

Apr18

For the Women Who Hear “You Can’ts”: An Easter Story of Hope #StoriesofEaster

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{This post is my contribution to the Stories of Easter syncroblog hosted by Convergent Books.}

It was a Sunday morning my senior year of college. I was sitting in church with my fiancé and his family as I thought about how nice the service was: the music was incredible and the people were really friendly.

But then came the sermon.

I began to feel a little uneasy when the pastor started reading 1 Corinthians 14 about women remaining silent in the church. And things only got worse when the pastor continued to preach about how women had their own special “roles” in the faith community… And that these “roles” did not include teaching adult men, preaching, or serving as pastors, among other things.

This troubled me… as I had been raised in a church with a female pastor, in a family where women were seen as equal to men and could be anything they wanted to be, and where I – myself – started to feel called into ministry in high school.

At a young age, I met and had fallen in love with a Jesus who loved me for who I truly was and who – despite my struggles, faults, and failures – kept washing my feet, calling me his “beloved,” and for some odd reason kept urging and empowering me to follow him.

But there – on that Sunday morning with my fiancé and soon-to-be in-laws – this Jesus I loved was being silenced. He was being beaten down, spit on, and mocked.

And this was not the only place I heard these messages… I had been hounded by “you cant’s” because I was a woman in my campus ministry since my freshman year and would continue to be hounded by them later in my marriage for many years until my divorce.

The Jesus I knew for so long – who had been my true friend, advocate, and encourager – was on trial and the prosecutors were winning. And I began to fear that I would never see or hear from him again.

*****

I wonder if this was how the women who knew and loved Jesus felt as they watched him from afar during his arrest, his trials, and as he slowly and painfully journeyed toward the cross.

The Jesus who had allowed women to touch his cloak, rub his feet with their hair, sit in the places where disciples sat, and who rebuked the men who criticized such women was now being spit on and mocked. The Jesus who not only taught these women the Scriptures, but also empowered them to speak their voices and allowed them to accompany him on his ministry was now being flogged. The Jesus who had loudly and boldly proclaimed that these women – “the least of these” – were just as cherished and beloved in God’s Kingdom as any man was now being silenced, as he was forced to walk – with a crown of thorns on his head and a heavy cross over his back – toward his violent death.

I wonder what those women who loved this radical Jesus thought as they gazed up through their tears at his broken and bloody body as it hung silently and still on the cross.

Would they ever see or hear from him again? Were they really going to be cherished in the Kingdom of God or was all that he had proclaimed and done for them done in vain? Was Jesus truly the One he said he was or did they completely misunderstand him?

Who would advocate for them now?

Their grief, confusion, and anger over the loss of their beloved Jesus must have been incredibly overwhelming as they heard Jesus cry out in anguish on that dark night: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” and watched him take his final breath.

And yet, in the midst of this grief, confusion, and anger, some of these women decided to go back to his tomb after he was buried. We don’t know why. It may have been the same reason they chose to follow him to the cross, while almost all of Jesus’ other disciples bailed out on him.

Maybe they wanted to make sure the tomb was being taken care of, just like he had made sure they were taken care of. Maybe they needed more opportunities to say what they didn’t have the chance to say to Jesus before his arrest. Maybe they thought they would feel closer to him if they were close to his body.

Or maybe they held onto hope that this Jesus really was the One he said he was, and that death would not defeat him.

Whatever the reason, they went back to the tomb.

And it must have been a shocking and horrifying moment when the women found the tomb empty. Had someone stolen Jesus’ body? What did this mean for them now?

And yet, they must have been even more shocked when they were greeted by their loving Jesus, himself – before anyone else – and were commissioned by him to be the bearers of the good news of his resurrection.

The Jesus they knew and loved really was the One he said he was. And this Jesus who loved, advocated for, and empowered them before his arrest was now continuing to do so in and through his very death and resurrection.

*****

When I felt voiceless as I heard and watched others mock and deny the Jesus I knew and loved, no matter how strong and loud their voices were, I could not give up hope that Jesus might still be the One I had experienced him to be. And so I followed him on that long, bumpy road toward his death. There were times when I felt hopeless: at the bottom of the cross, gazing up at what seemed to be just a broken and bloody body hanging silently from it.

And yet, somehow I felt a constant urge to keep returning to his tomb. To see if he was still there. To see if he was, indeed, the One I knew him to be long before. And though there were times I felt alone when I found the tomb empty, after continuously returning to it, I finally realized that those loud voices that led him to his crucifixion did not, in fact, win.

For there standing in front of me was the very Jesus I knew and loved for so long: calling out to and commissioning me – his beloved – to go out and spread this great news of his resurrection to all who fear that his death would keep him away forever.

*****

For all the women out there whose loving Jesus has been crucified before your very own eyes: may you find hope in this Easter Story, as well. When others around you ridicule, spit on, and beat down the Jesus who has claimed and cherished you, follow him to the cross. When you witness his crucifixion, visit his tomb… over and over and over again.

The promise in this Easter story is that no matter how loud those voices are around you that mock and deny your Jesus, death will not defeat him. And though these voices wish to silence him, he is proclaiming on your behalf louder than ever as he hangs silently and still from the cross.

And in a few days time, the Jesus you once knew and loved will appear to you in full form – claiming you as his own, and commissioning you – his beloved – to speak your voice and share this good news.