“Living hope” 1 Peter 1:3; John 20:19-31

1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

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Pastor Tom Johnson, April 23, 2017

Thomas is not there when Jesus appears in his resurrected Body. He has been through too much. He is so deep in grief for the betrayal and death of his Master, that he refuses to believe—unless he can see and touch Jesus in all his glory. His faith has taken a hit—even a death-blow. And he says only the miracle of seeing and touching his resurrected Lord will restore his faith again. “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.” When we talk about faith from our human perspective, it appears to be a decision that you and I make to trust in God. Or it may seem like the energy we put into sustaining our spiritual journey. And like Thomas, Peter, the disciples, and all Christians, we sooner or later realize that it is a challenge to keep the faith.  Perhaps that is why the Gospel reading the week after Easter is always about doubting Thomas and how he did not show up for church the Sunday following the Resurrection. Empty pews and chairs have been a problem from the beginning.

Our reading from 1st Peter reminds us that Thomas’ doubts and unbelief is all part of the normal Christian life—that even just on the heels of Easter Sunday, we can so quickly and so easily lose faith. Peter should know. He denied that he was Jesus disciple and that he even knew him three times. Peter eventually returned to his previous vocation as a fisherman. He had all but given up fishing for people as Jesus called him. Peter says that faith is “perishable.” It is not unlike going to the grocery store and seeing that sign or notice on food that says, “perishable.” Faith can turn grow dark over time. It can lose its sweetness. It can get infected and spoil. Let me be clear. I believe Peter is talking about our faith. The faith that you and I exert is like a muscle that can grow weak and exhausted. And, without the proper nutrition, hydration, and exercise it will slowly decay and die. Peter even says that our faith will be tested by fire. That is to say, the challenges we face—the suffering, loss, and our failure to live the life God has called us to—all those things can turn up the heat.  It can make us feel like we cannot go on. We have failed. Or that God has failed us. We cannot pull ourselves up once we have fallen.  Peter reminds us, though, that the heat is not meant for our destruction. The fire is not end of our Christian journey. Like the goldsmith, God will use trials in our lives to refine, purify, and strengthen us and our faith.

Our faith may be perishable. But our inheritance, Peter says, is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. It is a living hope. It is a fire ignited at our baptism. It will safely bring us through the challenges and obstacles of this life to our heavenly home. Did you see our new Christ candle? It is a beautiful reminder of our living hope. The flame of God’s love, forgiveness, and promise of eternal life that was ignited at our Baptism. Faith is a gift—part of that gift-package God gives in our salvation. So we hand that flame to the newly baptized child as a reminder that they are the light of Christ to the world. They are charged to let their light shine to enrich the lives of those around them and to bring praise and glory to God. And so we light the candle during Easter. The resurrection continues to kindle afire our love and our faith. It is a living hope. It is a hope that will not disappoint us because Christ is risen indeed. Because what God begins, he brings to completion. He is the Alpha and Omega—from beginning to end he is our Savior. The fire of your faith is a gift. It will shine through the valleys of the shadow of death. It is living hope. God enlivens your hope through his Word and Spirit. He strengthens and preserves our faith by his Body and Blood. It is a living hope because we serve the true and living God. We trust in the one who overcame death and the grave—the One who still gives his nail and spear scarred body for our forgiveness of our sins and the promise of eternal life.

How blest are they who have not seen
And yet whose faith has constant been,
For they eternal life shall win.
Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!
         (“O Sons and Daughters of the King” LSB470 v. 8)

“The Empty Tomb” (Matthew 28:1-10)

Matthew 28:1-10

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Pastor Tom Johnson, April 16, 2017

Fred Hiebert is sometimes called the real Indiana Jones. He is an archeologist who works for National Geographic. He has traveled to Afghanistan, Egypt and all over the world, to study (and sometimes even discover) ancient buildings and treasure He just spent a year in the tomb of Jesus. This is the site where the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is just down the hill from where Jesus was crucified. It was first built in 335 AD. Deep within is the cave—the tomb hewn out of solid rock is located where Jesus was buried. Because so many Christian traditions have a stake there, it took 50 years for Hiebert and his team to get permission to study and work there. They wanted to see what they might discover and, at the same time, renovate and clean up a nearly 1,700 year old mess. Hiebert said that it is the darkest and dingiest place he has ever worked. And even though it is the dirtiest and most lightless place he had ever worked, he was tasked with spending a year there to learn and clean.

Two thousand years earlier—early that Sunday morning, it also took courage for the women to go see the tomb where the body of Jesus lay. Cemeteries and tombs can be scary places. And even more than that, the tomb represented the power of death itself. The Hebrew Scripture describes the grave—Sheol—as an open mouth. This rocky opening leads to an appetite for the living. The iron bars they would sometimes put over the mouth of a tomb are described as teeth. The grave has an insatiable appetite for the living and it’s open mouth is a constant reminder that death calls out to us all.

The tomb represents a universal fear of humanity—death. It threatens us all. And at times it seems that death has a cruel appetite for the living and that it is the merciless fate of us all. For those of us who remain, we grieve our loss. We are thankful for the time God gives to us with those we love. And at the same time, we realize just how brief and precious life is. It is with that loving devotion that the women go to Jesus’ grave.

Just before Hiebert spent a year in the tomb of Jesus, he spent three months in the Tomb of another King—King Tutanhhamun in the Valley of Kings in Egypt. He said you are by yourself in this 3,000 year old grave. You are communing with the past. And that is the way it is with all ancient burial sites—except, he says, for the tomb of Jesus. The only thing they discovered in their year underground was unstable ground beneath the tomb and an even more ancient quarry dating back to when Jerusalem was first built. One of the few stipulations of their work there was that it would remain open to the public and that the church continue its worship. There is a monastery there with monks who pray and chant Gregorian tones multiple times a day. Hiebert says that it was an incredible experience. It is an amazing sound scape—the acoustics wonderfully carry the songs of the faithful. He said it was “one of the more extraordinary experiences of my life as an archeologist.” Even though the Tomb of Jesus is one of the darkest and dingiest places he has ever visited, he said it is the liveliest! He said at Jesus’ Tomb you commune with the past “but at the same time there are pilgrims everywhere, monks praying and chanting, and candles everywhere. It is such a different living space. It is a unique experience.” It took them a year to restore the charred soot walls back to their crystal and white marble. Hiebert said he never saw so many black robed patriarchs smiling so big. He went to a place of burial and found one of the liveliest places he has been to.

That is the Easter message! The angel says, “Do not be afraid; you may be in the darkest, dingiest places in your life. I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised!” The women say, “He has been raised from the dead, indeed!” They quickly leave with fear and joy to tell others. Jesus transformed a place of death into a place of resurrection and promise of new life for us. The tomb is no longer a symbol of death and its desire to have us for breakfast. The open and empty tomb now cries out, “He is not here!” “He is risen!” It is now a mouth of song and praise. It is the liveliest place on earth because that is where Jesus rose. For in him we all have the assurance of forgiveness and eternal life.

Awake, my heart, with gladness,  
See what today is done;
Now, after gloom and sadness,  
Come forth the glorious sun.
My Savior there was laid  
Where our bed must be made
When to the realms of light  
Our spirit wings its flight.
     ("Awake, My Heart, with Gladness" v. 1, Paul Gerhardt)

“Choosing our battles” (Matthew 26:51-54)

Matthew 26:51-54

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Pastor Tom Johnson, April 9, 2017

There is a lot of military imagery today. Jesus comes into Jerusalem as a conquering King. They cry, “Hosanna!” “Lord, save us!” They would love to have Messiah’s triumphal entry to deliver them from Roman occupation. But that is not why Jesus comes into the city. That is not his battle today. Nor will it be his battle in the future. Jesus choose to battle the money changers, though. He goes into the temple courts to drive them out. He is zealous for God’s house because they are crowding out the Gentiles. He is making way for people who were not born into the faith. His battle is to make room for the foreigner—to welcome the stranger—and to encourage all nations and peoples in the knowledge of the true and living God.

That also explains why Jesus did not approve of Peter trying to deal a death blow to the high priest’s slave. And it was not because Peter was such a poor swordsman and missed his head entirely just close enough to get his ear. Jesus tells Peter to put his sword away. And says the proverb: Those who live by the sword will die by the sword. If we choose to put our trust in might to make right we are deceived. We may succeed with the sword today but sooner or later what goes around will come around again. The battle we win today may lead to a series of battles in the future—and we will most likely not win them all. The strongest arms—the best trained soldiers—the loudest voice does not always win. Jesus challenges us to use our heads before we use our swords. Winning the battle today may mean losing the war tomorrow. And just what is our battle against? Not against flesh and blood but against spiritual powers and authorities. Peter’s battle was stopping Jesus’ arrest. Jesus’ battle is winning souls. In fact, tradition says that that slave whose ear was cut off and then healed by Jesus—his life was never the same. He was won over by Jesus and he believed. Our battle as Christians is not to win arguments, fights, and power struggles.

Our battle is to win sisters and brothers—to love our enemies and pray for them—Just as Jesus taught and exemplified. Our battle is not to end the lives of our adversaries—it is to transform them into friends and members of the family of faith. That’s what happened to Saul the persecutor of the Church; he became Paul the Apostle to the Gentiles. Jesus' words—put your sword back—is a good word for all of us. We need to govern our minds and thinking—to hold every thought captive to the Word and mind of Christ. Put them back. Confess and repent of those hurtful thoughts. We need to keep criticisms, insults, gossip, and slander sheathed. When we cannot filter those thoughts and they escape our mouths, we need to quickly acknowledge our sin. Jesus calls us to repentance—to ask for forgiveness and change our course. If we can repent of our thoughts and words, that will prevent the actual deeds—the swords will not be drawn.

But that does not mean we don’t confront the powers. It means that we choose our battles wisely—just as Jesus did that day. It means we fight smarter. It means we know what is at stake. It means we know that God is going to win. The Scriptures will be fulfilled. It must happen God’s way, Jesus says—not ours. It will happen when and how he has planned all along. That is why Jesus will not take up his sword. He will take up his Cross. His journey into Jerusalem will be
the battle to end all battles. He will go in and conquer and win the war. Yes, there will be battles to follow—just as we continue to battle against ourselves and adversaries today. But Jesus will take up his Cross. He will be lifted up high. He will confront sin, death, and evil there. For us and for the life of the world, he will win.

“Asleep in Jesus” (John 11:1-45)

John 11:1-45

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Pastor Tom Johnson, April 2, 2017

Jesus says Lazarus has fallen asleep. Those with Jesus know that Lazarus is sick. His sisters sent word to Jesus that he was ill. Jesus receives more news about Lazarus. He is sleeping. Lazarus has fallen asleep. We were so close to having this reading on April 1st! It does seem that Jesus is either trying to fool his disciples, or he is not being truthful. But God does not lie. Jesus, the eternal Son of God, does not lie or deceive. He already said that Lazarus was going to be ok. “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s Glory.” In other words, death will not get the victory here. God will. Lazarus sickness will lead to greater worship and praise of God.

Sleep is wonderful when I am sick. My immune system is hard at work. But I am completely out. It is so nice to be oblivious to the discomfort for hours. It is like being transported through time. When I wake up I am so much closer to being better. That time goes by in a flash. There is a buzz of renewed energy. Maybe that is what the disciples were thinking. “He’s going to be okay, Jesus. We do not need to go into enemy territory. We don’t need to risk our lives if Lazarus is sleeping off his sickness.

“Lazarus is dead,” Jesus plainly says. And, again, Jesus says that God has purpose. It is to increase faith—“…so that you will believe.” When they arrive at Lazarus home, he has already been dead and buried. Martha says that Jesus could have prevented his death. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They had seen Jesus heal many diseases before. He could have restored Lazarus to good health. Martha realized her greatest fear—that her brother would die. And now she is beginning to grieve. She has regret. She has faith. She has sadness. And Jesus weeps with her and Lazarus’ family and friends. Jesus shares our suffering. God feels our loss. Scripture says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints” (Psalm 116:15). Death is also the enemy of God. Our lives are precious to him. We are his treasure. And in our deaths, God takes his precious treasure to his eternal home.

We are in Lent—still two weeks away from Easter Sunday. Jesus is also very close to his own death and resurrection in our Gospel reading. God wants us to contemplate and think about the nature of death in the lives of believers. Remember, Lazarus’ illness does not lead to death but the glory of God. His death was allowed so that our faith would be increased. This is already foreshadowing the death of Jesus in the weeks to come—for the glory of God to increase our faith. Death is to be feared. Death is to be grieved. We fear death. Jesus names death as the enemy. We grieve death. Jesus enters the agony of loss just as we do in the death of a loved one. But all along, his purpose is to manifest the Kingdom. This takes trust to follow Jesus. Like Thomas expresses in our text, life can sometime feel like a suicide mission. Entering the world and journeying forward can be very scary in the face of real and formidable threats.

Death is separation from the people we love. It really is a painful loss. And like the disciples, it seems too soon and pointless to continue our way. There is no evidence that Jesus rebukes or disapproves of Thomas when he says, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Thomas’ brutal sarcasm is his way of mourning his loss. He expresses despair and anger in the face of death. Jesus gives us room to grieve as we all need to grieve—even if it includes telling God our doubts and visceral pain. It is ok to cry out.

But Jesus’ word of hope was there at the beginning. Lazarus is asleep. I am going to wake him. Far from being just a metaphor or figure of speech, Jesus is teaching us about death. In Christ, death is not darkness and the end. It is more like sleep. We lie down. We temporarily say goodbye. Our eyes close to the world. But we go to sleep in the full confidence that we will wake up. And when we open our eyes again, we will have rested. Our strength will be renewed. We have a new day. God has given us a daily rehearsal in sleep. We sleep about a third of our lifetime. That means I have been unconscious, with intermittent periods of wakefulness, for 15 years of my life. I truly wish it could be more.

Each time we lay our bodies down to rest, it is Christian discipline. We pray before we sleep and when we wake up. Luther’s evening and morning prayers carry on the ancient tradition of quoting Jesus’ words on the cross just before his death: “Into your hands I commend my Spirit—myself, my body and soul, and all things.” For Jesus, death was a three day nap in the body and to be immediately present with God. And so, in Christ, it is for us. We lay our bodies to rest for a few days, decades, centuries, or thousands of years in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection. When the last trumpet sounds the alarm. Get up!

In the meantime, to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. We close our eyes to this world only to immediately wake up face to face with Jesus—just as Lazarus woke up to see his Lord standing there victorious over death. So time will have passed—for time itself will pass in eternity. We will have that wonderful reunion with all of those we have lost in the Lord. Mary and Martha have already been reunited with their dear brother Lazarus. And so will we wake up to a wonderful family reunion and feast for the victory of our God over death.