Abba! Father!

Romans 8:14-17

Pastor Tom Johnson, May 19, 2013

50 years ago, MIT linguistics professor Noam Chomsky rocked the academic world with his theory of Universal Grammar. He argued that all human beings are born with an innate ability and fluency in the structure and rules language. Language is hardwired into the human brain from birth. This means that children do not learn language as they grow up. They acquire a particular language (or languages) in their environment. In other words, they modify their already existing language ability to reflect the languages they learn.

 And today, on the day of Pentecost, the day that we celebrate human language from all over the world as evidence of the Holy Spirit at work in his Church, Paul brings us to the very core of this universal language: baby talk. “When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” Paul writes, “it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” There is a universal truth in the particular Hebrew babble word “Abba!” that will encourage and lift our hearts up!

In my family, we called my Grandmother Johnson, “Dodo.” I didn’t think this was strange at all as a young child. It was surprisingly late in life that I noticed that not all grandchildren called their father’s mother “Dodo.” I even learned that a dodo is an extinct species of a flightless bird. As a teenager, I finally had enough courage to ask Dodo how she got her name. She told me her nephews and nieces could never pronounce her real name, Dorothy. Try as they might to speak that rich string of consonants and vowels, these little ones could not say, “Aunt Dorothy.” In their feeble attempt to articulate her name, it came out as “Dodo.” And rather than despise their grotesque inarticulateness or take offense at such a perversion of her name, she embraced it. And, it stuck. “Dodo.” It warmed her heart to hear these little ones mispronounce her name for more than half of a century until her homecoming with God.

As a Hebrew child, Paul remembers his own cradle talk—how he would address his own father. The Hebrew word for father is “Av.” Ending a word in consonant is difficult for children. The bottom lip to the upper teeth is even more challenging. And so Paul, along with countless other Hebrew babes, changed the labiodental consonant “v” for the far easier bilabial bottom lip to upper lip “b” and added the vowel following for easier more flowing articulation: “Abba.” And rather than despise this widespread Hebrew dialect among toddlers, their fathers’ hearts melted as their children put their names on their lips. Parents love it when their children call for them—even in their babbling tongues.

But how sad it is when we live our lives denying God this pleasure. God wants hear us babble his holy Name! Maybe we make the mistake thinking God will hear us by our many words as Jesus warns in his Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps we are like Moses who thought he was of no use to God because of his speech impediment and even owed God an apology. “Oh, my Lord,” he stutters, “I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue” (Exod 4:10). The Apostle Paul himself played down his oratory skills. “…when I came to you” Paul writes, “[I] did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech [in eloquence] or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:1,2). Instead, Paul embraced the simplicity and beauty of the good news of Jesus. And rather than embark on a never-ending journey for perfection that never comes, he simply sputtered out the love of God that he has for all creatures and creation that is so clear, even a child can understand.
 

Or maybe we should say, “…what a child better understands.” What is it that a child doing when they say, “Abba,” “dada,” “papa,” “tata,” “mama,” “baba,” or “dodo”? They aren’t thinking about their theological and linguistic prowess at all. It doesn’t matter! What matters is that they are looking for love, acceptance, reassurance, and compassion from the correct source. And that is the beauty of this truth: that God loves even the inarticulate babbling of his Name. He is not a supreme grammarian! He is our heavenly Papa. He is not disgusted by our spiritual speech impediments. He takes delight in our cradle tongues because they are calling upon him in times of trouble. What matters is not our well-crafted words, poetic cadence, or precise theological formulations. What matters is that we are free to pray to God and look to him with confidence that he loves us, accepts us, and even likes us. Scripture says that the Holy Spirit helps us pray when we are weak, don’t know what to pray with sighs and groans too deep for words (Rom 8:26). Our weak attempt at prayer, “Abba,” is strong evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work in our life and our being secure members of God’s family—our own personal Pentecost.

God made the world. We made a mess. God still loves. He sent his son, Jesus. He died for us. He didn’t stay dead. He got up and sent his Spirit into our hearts. We are all learning to talk about God and speak with God who is our loving Parent. He wants us to pray. He doesn’t care if it sounds pretty or not. Just talk to him. If your prayers are more like babble, he won’t laugh at you, make fun of you, or be disappointed. He may smile. But it’s only because he is happy you called.

 

 

02-6284373

Ephesians 4:10

Pastor Tom Johnson, May 12, 2013

02-6284373: that is the postal code of the Mount of Olives. It is the postal code for the Chapel of the Ascension, which is now a mosque. It is the last place Jesus planted his feet on our earthly soil. The disciples met Jesus there in the Mount of Olives which is just east of Jerusalem. It was there where they asked Jesus if he was going to lead them into Jerusalem and usher in a new era for the city of Jerusalem and from there establish a new kingdom of Israel led by her Messianic King. Their hope is that now is the time for change. They hope that today is the day for all the promises to be fulfilled. It is a great expectation to think that their wait may finally be over. But the angels tell them “it is not for you to know the time and periods that the Father has set by his own authority.” They long for a faithful Mayor of Jerusalem, Governor of Judea, and King of the nation of Israel. They want him to fill this important political role. They want to fill their homeland with the wisdom and blessing of Jesus the Christ. But the angels tell them to quit gazing into the sky. They remind the disciples that it won’t be until his coming in great glory that he will appear to them again and be present with them as he had been in his physical body. In our various readings, we observe that the disciples had a limited understanding of the Person and work of Jesus. It is not all bad. But their longings do fall short of what God is actually doing.

Today, it is not too dissimilar. In this country, we hear religious leaders calling for the United States to uphold to Scriptural authority and “return to our Judeo-Christian roots.” We want immediate results! As a family of faith, we want a roof that does not leak. We want to increase our presence and relevance in the community and city of Chicago. We want to experience the glory of God. And now would be nice! As individuals, we wonder where Jesus really is. Where are those benefits of being a citizen of the Kingdom the Bible talks about? Where is the peace God gives? Where is the joy of my salvation? On the surface of things, Ascension may seem like a Festival that hardly needs any more attention than we give. It might seem like Jesus’ ascent into the cloud has little impact on our journey through this earthly life. But we would be wrong.

“He who descended is the same one who ascended far above all the heavens, so that he might fill all things” (Eph 4:10). “…so that he might fill all things.” That is the counterintuitive truth of Ascension: in his departure he is more present. No longer is Jesus limiting his presence to the 02-6284373 postal code. He is now in the 60610 zip code of near north Chicago. Our reading from Ephesians says we now have his body which is “the fullness of him who fills all in all.” The Kingdom of heaven does not have a postal code. Jesus did not vacate the premises when ascended on high. He ascended to fill the whole universe with his presence. Jesus ascends to the Father in his favor, power, and love. He ascends to assure us that he has not limited himself to one postal code but dwells richly in all his creation—especially among his people and in his gifts.

Last week, a colleague and friend of mine said something that helped me better understand Ascension. And many of you know my friend, Pastor Allan Buss, because he preached here for our Stewardship Sunday a year and a half ago. He said, “In our ascended Lord, we have a friend in high places.” I like that. The lifting up of Jesus does not distance him from us but is the ascent of a friend working on our behalf. It puts him into position to continue the work that he began in this world. Theologians call this the ubiquity of the Son of God—his presence is everywhere. We have a friend in high places.

My dad used to tell me, “Tom, it’s not what you know but who you know.” As someone who wanted to feel a sense of accomplishment and recognition, that didn’t go over very well with me. I didn’t like the idea of my dad, or someone else, making a phone call to open doors for me. I wanted to blaze a trail of my own. But my dad’s words have often been true. In the case of Ascension, they are right on.

We have a friend in high places. He has descended in the flesh of the virgin Mary. He has taken up our humanity and bore the weight of our sin and suffered the ravages of a broken world. He died and rose again. And he has ascended on high. We have a friend in high places who has already made that call to God. He has wiped the record of all our sins. We have a friend in high places who has called ahead and booked a room for us in the Kingdom of Heaven. And, he fills all things. The ascended Christ works in all creation sustaining all things by the Word of his power. He dwells with his people as the Body and family of God. He assures us that he is present when two or three reconcile with another in his name. The ascended Christ is with the giving of a cup of water to a child in his name. He gives his Body and Blood with the bread and the wine. He dwells in our hearts by faith, rooted and established in love. Our Friend in high places fills all things.

"Peace"

John 14:27

Pastor Tom Johnson, May 5, 2013

In our Gospel reading, Jesus speaks to us in words of departure—his last will and testament to us:

“Dear family of God,” Jesus says. “Beneficiaries, co-heirs, and recipients of my holy estate and riches of my Kingdom. As King of kings and Lord of lords, I hereby bequeath to you my peace. I give you 100% of my peace which is not to be divided or unspent but shared by all and to the full. I leave you 100% true and abiding peace. The peace I endow—the peace I bestow upon you is like no other peace. You will not find this kind of peace in all the universe. Even with all of its assets and natural resources, the world cannot give to you the peace that I give. So, don’t be anxious. Stop your worrying. Don’t let fear get the best of you. Live your life with the reality of peace.”

With these words, Jesus boldly reveals our restless, inner world. He peals back the veneer. He unmasks the needlessness of our strife, anxiety, and fear. He exposes our careless disregard for God’s transformative peace in our lives. The prophet Jeremiah said the people of God in his day did the same thing, “They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jer 6:14; 8:11). We speak of peace as the absence or cessation of violence. That is not true peace. Apathy is not true peace. Leaving each other alone is not true peace. It is a sad irony that the most common greeting in both Arabic and Hebrew is “Peace!” Salaam. Shalom. It is even growing in popular American culture. “Peace!” the rock star says. “Peace out!” the teenager says as they sign off their social network.

Peace is not silence. Peace is not goodbye. Peace is not two fingers held up with the “V” of victories because our enemies have been defeated, silenced, or eliminated. Proverbs 16:7 says “When the ways of people please the Lord, he causes even their enemies to be at peace with them.” Peace is not the absence of hostility. Peace does not celebrate the demise of others. Perhaps you can relate to the Proverb (21:9), “It is better to live on top of the roof in the corner than to live inside the house and share it with a contentious [person].” Although this sentiment is true enough, true peace is not going our separate ways. It is not agreeing to disagree. It is not passive aggression.

We as a church family, run the same risk of hypocrisy by our language. We “exchange the peace” together. We welcome one another with the words, “The peace of the Lord.” We greet one another, “God’s peace.” The height of our service is the Body and Blood of our service and the pronouncement of the “Peace of the Lord be with you always!” Our worship ends with the word “peace” in the benediction. The goal of worship is to launch us out into the world as God’s peace-benefactors and his peace-makers. Our interaction can merely be superficial—just another, “Good morning, how are ya?” Jesus tells us in his Sermon on the Mount that God does not want our worship offerings if we are not truly reconciled to each other. It is one time God tells us not to go to church—if we aren’t at peace! “Leave your offering at the altar, Jesus says, and first be reconciled with your sister and brother and then come, worship, give thanks, and experience true peace” (Matt 5:23,24). Peace is not living in denial of broken relationships. Peace is not the bliss of ignorance. Peace is active. Peace takes courage. Peace requires attentiveness. Peace flows out of selflessness. Peace empathizes with both friend and enemy.

The source of this peace is the Prince of Peace. Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” These words reveal that we needlessly live our lives without authentic peace. In our worldliness, we actually are denying ourselves true peace. And so Jesus gives us his peace. His peace is a sure antidote to strife, anxiety, and fear. Will you and I have the courage to pursue and pray for that peace in our lives? Will we hold Jesus to his word and boldly ask him that we experience his peace? Perhaps it will be the peace as Paul describes it—“the peace of God which surpasses understanding—peace that transcends comprehension—which guards our hearts in minds in Christ Jesus” (Philipp 4:7). It is a peace that, in Jesus’ words, “is not of this world.” It is not delivered “as the world gives.” It is delivered by God’s Son. Peace is given by the Prince of Peace who died and rose again where he has victory over death, sin, and evil.

Over and over again, the resurrected Jesus greets his disciples with the word “Peace!” And now he delivers his peace through the Word, one another, and his Body and Blood in the bread and the wine. Jesus challenges us to leave worry and anxiety behind and to truly experience his peace. That is an offer we should not refuse.

“Who am I that I could hinder God?”

Acts 11:1-18

Pastor Tom Johnson, April 28, 2013

It is well documented in the Scriptures that Peter had issues with Gentiles—that is, the non-Israelites in the world. Peter was uncomfortable around Greeks, Romans, Africans, Asians, and those Barbaric, Germanic peoples. Peter knew that Jesus commissioned his church to begin in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the end of the earth. He was there when 3,000 temple worshipers from all over the world who were baptized. But what God did in Jerusalem at Pentecost is just a foretaste. It is not enough that just one ethic group hear about Jesus and how he transforms lives. God wants his word and his message of good news to go out to the whole world.

But Peter could not get on board with God’s plan. He was content with Old Testament believers becoming New Testament believers. He did not see why God would want to branch out to the heathen, the pagans, and the Gentiles. And so God put Peter in a trance and gave him a vision. He spread a table cloth before him with food to eat—not steak and lamb’s meat but meat from all sorts of animals—wild animals—reptiles and birds. And God says, “Rise, eat!—Bon Appetite!” The animals in front of him are all ritually unclean by Mosaic law. They are the animals that are forbidden to eat in the Old Testament. Peter won’t eat. He is a good and devout Israelite. He says, “I will not eat anything unclean or forbidden.” But God tells Peter to eat. God is expanding the menu. He is asking Peter lay aside all his old assumptions and traditions. And this is not just about God expanding the menu. He wants to expand Peter’s vision of humanity and what God is doing in the lives of people from every ethnicity, tribe, language, and culture.

God overcomes Peter’s limited view of what God is doing in the world. God expands Peter’s view of the Kingdom. And through Peter’s telling of his story, he wants to expand the view of Kingdom for the rest of the church. Peter and the church of the day had a limited view of the Kingdom and who is welcome. And so we too can succumb to the same, small mindedness and powerless spirituality. Our attitudes, prejudices, incorrect assumptions, and false thinking can stand in the way of our appreciation—our wonder—our worship—our celebration of how pervasive the activity of God is in the lives of people around us.

Just a few weeks ago, Lori Wilbert shared stories and the writings of convicted felons in the Illinois Department of Corrections. Her time with us expanded the vision of what God is doing in the lives of all people. I have an enlarged view of God’s family—who brothers and sisters in Christ. And I share their struggle to find their way forward with true forgiveness and redemption from the stigma and burden of a criminal record.

And our fieldworker Kayla shared her mission trip to Thailand—a country that is mostly Buddhist. Her presentation led to a vibrant discussion about what God is already doing in such a vastly different culture and religious heritage. And, again, I have an enlarged view of what God is doing in places I’ve never been to or even places that have scarcely entered into my mind. God is there. He acts. He works. He navigates circumstances that are often confusing to us. He transcends our political, ethnic, and cultural differences. Who today are those people we think of as outside the plan of God? Are they those people we see on the evening news—nameless people whose language, culture, and worldview is so foreign to our own? Or, are they the people who sit anonymously on the train right next to us? Are they the people who we pass by who are living their lives with little chance of their paths intersecting with ours? Are they our friends or loved ones…and we have concluded that they will never change or experience the transformative power of God? 

I love what Peter says, “Who am I that I could hinder God?” “Who am I to think that I could slow down the advance of the Kingdom of God?” Peter asks. “Who am I to say that God is only interested in a particular people and not all of his creation?” “Who am I to limit God’s power in the world?” “Who am I to think that little ol’ me can impede the work of almighty God?” “O, you silly little man,” Peter says to himself for all to hear, “How small minded you are! How limited your vision!” Who are we to think so little of God? Who are we to think so highly of ourselves?The Kingdom of God is always more pervasive that we can ask or imagine. God’s love for the world and all her inhabitants is always greater than our limited vision. “Who am I that I could hinder God?” Peter rhetorically asks.

The people respond by praising God and saying, “Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life!” Thank God you and I are no hindrance! Praise God that he cares about every soul! God’s plan is bigger than what has entered into our minds! His love for people far surpasses the people that you and I know or are familiar with!

“Who am I?” “Who are you?” “Who are ‘those people’ whoever ‘they’ are?” We are God’s children. God has spread his table cloth. We are all invited to rise in the power of the resurrection and eat at the Table. One day the veil will be lifted. And we will all be united under one banner and feast at the banquet supper of the Lamb in his Kingdom which will have no end. “O for a thousand tongues to sing, my great Redeemer’s praise, the glories of my God and King, the triumph of his grace!"

“God’s Death Grip”

John 10:22-30

Pastor Tom Johnson, April 21, 2013

Jesus gives powerful words of comfort. Twice, he tells us that we are in the strong grip of God—God the Father and God the Son. “No one will snatch [the sheep] out of my hand,” Jesus says. “No one will snatch them out of the Father’s hand.” The context of these words is Jesus’ message that he is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. He is the Farmer and we are his beloved livestock. We are the sheep who cannot be wrestled out of his strong, pastoral hands. But how can laying down his life be a way of laying ahold of us? How can dying strengthen his grip on us if he will lay lifeless in the tomb for three days? The answer is Jesus’ death grip on us.

It has long been observed that when a person grabs ahold of something in death, their grip does not become weaker but stronger. On the battlefield, there have long been stories of how many soldiers would retain a tight grip on their weapons and other belongings due to rigor mortis—the rigor of death. One hospice nurse tells the story of holding the hand of a woman over 100 years old. After she died, the nurse went to pull her hand away and could not get her hand out. The nurse needed the help of a family member to get her hand free. And so it has become part of our language to call a strong grip “a death grip.” This mechanism is called a cadaveric spasm where there is an instantaneous tightening of the muscles in the hand or other parts of the body. This means that the things we cling to in death may continue to tell the story of what was important to us in life.

What do you and I wrap our fingers around day after day? What is it that we hold on to tightly? Whom do we draw in to our embrace and squeeze with our firm love? Is our grip on misplaced treasure or preoccupation that has little to no enduring value? Or is it a grip on something or someone that we hope will tell the story of love that transcends our lives and lifespan—a love that is as strong in life as it is in death?

I can’t help but think of the Boston Marathon bombing. I watched the video of the blast over and over again. The video shows first responders who did not run away in fear for their lives but run toward the blast. There was no time to think. There was no time to second-guess themselves. They charged toward the source of death and destruction in order to lay their hand upon the dead and dying. We might say that it was because of their excellent training which I’m sure is the case. But when you see people who show no indication of hesitation or fear race toward the hurting and the dying, I thank God for such courageous selflessness. Their unwavering dedication in the face of danger is a gift from God. How else should we react to such a swift and strong reaction to tragedy that many credit to saving dozens of lives that otherwise may have been lost? That is the same courage, selflessness, and strength we see and hear in the words of Jesus, our Good Shepherd who lays his life down with a firm grip on his beloved sheep.

That is the story Jesus wants us to hear in his words—a grip that continues to tell a story through his death and ultimately to his resurrection. As strange as it may be to us for Jesus to speak about his grip on us in his death, it is a beautiful reality. When Jesus died, he was laying ahold of us. He grabbed us by his grace to take us safely through the valley of the shadow of death—his suffering, death, and burial He grabbed ahold of the thief on the cross when he said before they both died, “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.” If Jesus’ grip on us was so tight on us in death, imagine how much stronger it is in his resurrection! “I give them eternal life,” the Good Shepherd says, “and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.”

Rigor mortis has now become rigor vitae—life unyielding.

No one is strong enough to pry God’s fingers off us. We are accepted and held close by him. No accuser can persuade him to let us go. He has forgiven all our sins. No one can sneak up on God and snatch us out while he isn’t looking. He is always looking and never relaxes his grip. “For I am convinced,” Scripture says, “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38,39).

Nothing—no one will snatch us out of God’s hand.

“Peter jumped into the sea”

John 21:1-19

Pastor Tom Johnson, April 14, 2013
 

Some things in life complete a full circle. So it is with Simon Peter the fisherman. You’ll remember that Simon was his birth name. Jesus gave him the name Peter. The first time Simon met Jesus, he was fishing; and he was failing to catch any fish. And here Simon Peter is fishing again after the resurrection; and again, he is not having any success at catching fish. Even the fact that Simon Peter went back to his old vocation as a fisher of fish, and not a fisher of humans, raises some questions. I want to talk to Peter.

“Peter, have you lost faith? Are you feeling too guilty about denying Jesus three times? Has your future grown smaller? Do you think you are now disqualified to serve God by catching the imagination and hearts of people—people who need to hear the good news of God who loves, forgives, and gives eternal life? And here you are again in the Sea of Galilee by Tiberias. Do you remember the first time telling Jesus that casting your net again would be a waste of time…and how your net was so full you could not draw it in…and that you said, ‘Depart from me for I am a sinful man’…and Jesus called you to fish for people? (Luke 5:1-1). Do you remember, Peter, when you saw Jesus walk on water and how he called you out to walk along with him…and how, when you were overcome by panic and fear, you began to sink?” (Matt 14:22-33).

And here Peter is again, seeing the Lord—not walking on water—but treading death, the devil, and hell itself under his feet—walking in resurrected power. That is why I’m convinced that Simon Peter does remember. Because when he sees Jesus, he doesn’t shrink back in fear and shame over his sin. He puts on his clothes and jumps into the sea. He makes a flying leap toward his Lord. He cannot wait to bridge the gap between the boat and land. I want to talk to Peter again: “Did you put clothes on because you fear hypothermia? Did you get dressed before jumping into the water because you want to be ready for an immediate journey? Or Did you think you will walk on water again?” Whatever the reason, the separation between Peter and Jesus is intolerable. Peter does not have the patience to wait for the fish to be drawn into the boat and row ashore. Peter himself is caught—hook, line, and sinker—by the transformative grace of God and the Word of Jesus.

You sometimes hear how people’s whole lives flash before their eyes—how their story is played in rapid succession in their minds—and how their life becomes a story with purpose. This is such a time for Peter. And the fact that Jesus uses both his birth name, Simon, and baptismal name, Peter, is a sure indicator that Jesus wants Peter to see the power and purpose of his life. He is reminding Peter that he is a creature—but that he is God’s creature. Jesus is still calling Simon, the sinner. Jesus is still calling Peter, the rock. Peter is broken humanity; he is redeemed humanity. He is still a work in progress. The Lord has not given up on him. He is still called to be a fisher for people. Even the question, “Do you love me?” three times is a painful reminder of Jesus’ prediction that Peter would deny him three times before the rooster crowed. The rooster has cried out in conviction. Now Jesus is crying out in forgiveness—three times for every denial as if to emphasize that Peter’s sins are completely covered. Jesus calls Peter to fish for people. Jesus calls Peter to feed and tend the Good Shepherd's flock. Jesus calls Peter out of a horrific cycle of guilt and sin. And Peter is so overcome with joy that he jumps into the sea.

He jumps into the sea just like the irrational and impulsive Peter we have grown to know and love in the Gospels. He jumps into the sea to be closer to Jesus, even though it is more chaotic and uncomfortable than the boat or dry land. He jumps into the sea because he knows he’s safe. He has been through storms with Jesus and even walked on the water with him. He jumps into the sea, because he knows that the path of the resurrection has always been through water—whether it was salvation through the flood in Noah’s ark, deliverance from Pharaoh’s army through the Red Sea, deliverance to the Promised Land across the Jordan River, or through the water, Word, and Holy Spirit of Baptism. Peter jumps into the sea of his own future—a future of fishing for people and tending and feeding them as God’s sheep. But it is a future that will not be easy and will echo the sufferings of Jesus himself. Peter jumps into the sea. Don’t you also want that same kind of exuberance and joy of the resurrection? I do. Don’t you also want to be so excited about others knowing the love of God that we are ready to leap into the chaos of what we also call “ministry”? It may be cold, exhausting, and difficult. But Jesus is ashore to welcome us, forgive us, feed us, and empower us for the journey ahead. Will you jump into the water with me?

“Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Luke 24:1-12

Pastor Tom Johnson, March 31, 2013

The women followed Joseph of Arimathea to see where he laid the body of Jesus. After seeing the tomb where he lay, they prepared more spices and ointments to show their respect and express their grief for their Lord who died. It was early dawn—still dark when the women entered the tomb. It must have been frightening to enter a dark tomb in twilight. It must have frightening to discover that Jesus’ body was missing. And it must have been even more frightening for two angels to appear out of thin air. Their appearance was radiant. They illuminated the tomb where Jesus once lay. The angels see the irony and humor of the situation. They ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Who says God does not have a sense of humor? How else do we explain this one-liner from the angels? And what sort of insight do angels bring to us in this well-timed joke? “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” Literally, “Why do you look for that which is living in the midst of those things that are dead?” Or, “Why do you look for the Living One among the dead ones?” With these words, they invite us to imagine how angels see history. They saw Satan and other angels fall from grace and cast out of heaven like lightning. They saw how death entered into the world through our first parents, Adam and Eve. They have witnessed how every generation in human history has had to contend with the plague of death. They know Paul’s words are true in Ephesians chapter two when he says we are all born in trespasses and sins.

For God’s perfect angels, who have never tasted death or will ever experience death, the world is in the truest sense a place that is dying. They look at us, and they see the tragic reality that we live in the midst of death. It is the closest thing to a true zombie apocalypse. The angels who have never sinned—the angels who never die look at our world as broken and disease-ridden with a race of creatures who are the living dead. They see the irony of creatures groping in the dark for that which is dead. They see how often we look for life in the midst of death. They see us looking for pleasure and escape from things that actually rob us of true living. They see us living our lives outside the reality of the resurrection.

Why do we seek the living among the dead? Why do we look to be enlivened by those things that possess no life-giving power? Why do we live our lives as if meaning, happiness, and life can be found in temporal things?

Of course, the angels’ question not only poke fun at the futility of human living and striving for things that will never truly benefit us. Their words also celebrate a  great turn of events that will forever change human history. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here.” You are barking up the wrong tree. It is not the dead you seek? Jesus’ body can no longer be found in the tomb or among those who have been buried. He is not here, just as he said. Remember how he said he would be arrested, mocked, beaten, and crucified. Remember how he took upon himself the sin of the world—all the evil, temptation, and burden of broken humanity—even death itself. He lived, did good, healed, suffered, and died. But he is not dead. He is the Living One—the source of life and life itself. Death could never have victory over Jesus. Scripture says that “God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power” (Acts 2:24).

The angels’ question reveals God’s sense of humor and his angels who have the privilege and joy of being messengers of such good news. They are also a picture of our lives as children of light. Scripture says, we will shine even brighter than the midday sun (Matt 13:43). And so, we are looking into a mirror of future joy when we look at these angels. It is with radiant smiles and bright angelic eyes that the angels crack this Easter joke. It is with joy and a triumphant tone and energy in their voices that they ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” And because he lives, our place is not with the dead either. Our destination is the great company of the living. We seek and trust in the Living One who is, who was, and who is to come—the one who gives us eternal life.

“He is not here, but has risen.” The Living One has been raised in power. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We come to the Father through him. In him is life. And he is the Life of all humanity.

We don’t need to fear. We don’t need to grope around in the dark. We don’t need to search and journey in futility. He is risen. Jesus is the Living One.