Uplift Life

Text: John 20:19-31
Sermons were meant to be heard, so listen.

When we last left the disciples, at the end of Easter Sunday, they had scattered in fear and grief after witnessing the loss of their Lord and teacher.  Women came to the tomb to anoint the body of Jesus and were told: “He is not here, He is risen.”  And they ran away in fear.

And as we come upon them in today’s Gospel, there they are,still afraid, hiding in a locked room.

There was likely a complex mix of emotions going on in that room.
Fear, yes.
But maybe, just maybe, there was some hope sprinkled around that fear.
Hope that it wasn’t a joke.
Hope that Jesus really had risen from the dead.
And then, quickly on the heels of that hope, comes the questions.
Is rising from the dead is even possible?
Did the women just hear what they wanted to hear?
Was it a product of their grief?

And if it’s true, what does it even mean?
If it’s true, then where is he?

This text, of the disciples hiding in the locked room, and Jesus coming to see them, occurs each year on the Sunday immediately following Easter.
Jesus appears to them, despite their fear, despite their questions.
Despite the locked door.
And there is a lot to be gained from hearing this story year after year.

Because we often feel like the disciples after hearing the good news on Easter Sunday. Not only does it feel like Easter happened a month ago instead of just a week, but we too have that mix of emotions … wondering if it’s simply too good to be true, if maybe we misunderstood it, or if what we heard last week is even possible.

So year after year, we need this reminder on this day, that God comes into the locked places we are hiding, comes to us, not the other way around, and says:
Yes it’s true.
Everything you heard last week is true.
It’s true if you are scared,
it’s true if you are hiding,
it’s true if you are questioning.
Jesus is risen.
Death didn’t get the last word.
Love won.
It is all true.

The text we hear this morning, of Jesus entering in and showing up will be a good enough reminder for a lot of you.
But then, there are a few of us that are, if we’re honest, really happy that Thomas is in this Gospel too.
Thomas of the worst nickname in the Bible.
Thomas asks for something that I think a lot of us also would like to ask for: proof.
Real, actual, let me touch the risen Jesus, proof.
And he’s forever known as “Doubting Thomas”
Yet he’s not so much doubting, as wanting more.
And not only does he ask for it, but he gets it.
Jesus shows up another time, and this time Thomas is there.
He asks for proof, and gets it.

And while I could spend the whole morning talking about doubt and fear and the burden of proof, I want to take some time and focus in on another aspect of this text that we often breeze past in our haste to talk about Thomas and why he’s not really deserving of his nickname.

Have you ever noticed in romantic movies or books or television shows, when someone does something hurtful and ruins a relationship, they run away, then have an epiphany, and then they come back and say they are sorry and have the I love you moment and then suddenly, magically, everything is ok?
You know what I’m talking about?

Literally every single fictional love story ever has these plot points.

And after the big I’m sorry and I love you moment, what was bad turns into something good, and everything is forgiven and it’s like the bad never even happened at all?

I think, as much as we logically know reality is not like the movies, this is kind of what we think about Easter.

Jesus died for us and rose and now everything that happened before is better and happy and shiny and we can all just go back to the way we were and everything is going to be ok.

Jesus is back!  Everything is fine!

But is that reality?
Or is that the Hollywood version?

Because, yes, things ARE different.
We’re in a new normal.  We’re in a post resurrection world now.
Today’s Gospel is a reminder of what happens in this new normal, this new world we are in where resurrection has happened.

For a lot of us, we left here last week and life wasn’t magically better.
We still had empty seats at our Easter meals.
Our cancer didn’t go away.
We were still unemployed.
Our marriages were still struggling.
Our kids still threw tantrums and yelled that they hated us.
Wasn’t life supposed to change?
Isn’t that what Easter is about?

We come to this text year after year on the Sunday after Easter because we need the reassurance that it’s ok to have doubts when things don’t seem to change. It’s ok because even Thomas, one of the actual disciples, he had doubts too.

Last week Pr Chad ended by reminding us that the story isn’t over because you are a part of it now.
You matter in the story of God.
You matter in this post-resurrection world we now find ourselves in.
You.
Do you still doubt?
Do you still think that’s not true for you?
That others can be brought into the story but not you…
never you.
You’re too sinful
have too many questions
or are too skeptical
or too broken

Sin and death aren’t the end of Christ and they aren’t the end of you either.
And, in reality, it is those things that cause you to question your place in God’s story that make you perfect for it.

I want to go back to Thomas for a minute.
Because I think Thomas gets something really, really important about the post-resurrection world.

Notice what Thomas asks for.
He doesn’t ask to see shiny, perfect, resurrected Jesus.
“Thomas 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.”

Thomas gets it.
Thomas gets the reality of resurrection.
The trauma of the old life isn’t erased, but transformed.
Everything isn’t perfect, but it is different, it is new.

There’s an ancient Japanese art form, called Kintsugi, or kinsukuroi.
The story of kinsugi began in the late 15th century when a well-known shogun warrior broke one of his prized tea bowls and sent it to be repaired.
When it was returned to him, it was held together with bulky and ugly staples.
He thought this was unacceptable.
He asked some local craftsmen to find a way to repair it that could make a broken piece look as good as new, or better.
These artists pulled out the staples and mended the pot together seamlessly, with gold.

In doing so, the broken places were clearly visible, but the finished product was even more beautiful than the original product.

In kintsugi, the flaws are not hidden, are not wiped away, but are highlighted, and represent an essential moment in it’s history.

Jesus rose from the dead, but his scars were still present.
It’s the week after Easter, and our scars haven’t disappeared either.
Our brokenness still exists.
You only had to turn on the news this week to hear how broken the world still is.
But just like those artists did with a little gold and plaster,
Jesus takes our brokenness and fills in the cracks with grace and love.
And what we get is much more beautiful than anything that came before.

This Easter we have been resurrected and redeemed and repaired.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote: “The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong in the broken places.”

We are a part of God’s story now, and we take our beautiful resurrected selves into this world to continue the work of Christ that started last week.
We go into the broken world with our own patched-up brokenness proudly on display.
We go into the broken world to love and serve others from those places where we are now most beautiful.
We go into the world confident that we are not alone, that we go with God, that God goes with us, and we go with each other.

This is what it means to live in a post-Easter, post-resurrection world.
So go.

“Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”  Isaiah 40:4

Yesterday (Sunday) I came into the office early to prepare for preaching, and read verse 4.  BAM.  Lightning struck.  Or the Holy Spirit.  Either way, I read the above verse in a totally new light.  If it hadn’t been an hour before I was supposed to preach – then maybe everyone would have heard a totally different sermon.  And I’m not sure people would have loved it.

Because this time when I read Isaiah 40:4, instead of the good news I preached it as yesterday, I read it as a warning.

In light of the events of the last week, the continued injustices, the protests, the fear, the hate… this verse meant something different.

In light of more news about people being killed for standing up for what is right or challenging cartels in Mexico, this verse meant something new.

In light of my own ability to jump online to my instant access internet, in my heated home, after a nice hot healthy meal, and purchase Christmas gifts with little or no thought to the cost of any of it… this verse was drastically different.

See, what I read differently yesterday wasn’t so much about the people in the valley being brought up, or the people in rough ground being given smooth paths, but about the earth being made level.
Christ is coming into the world and everything is going to be made equal.
See if you’re in the valley, this is great news.
But, I’m guessing that’s not most of us… most of us are on the mountain.
And if you’re on the mountain, looking down into the valley, this new Kingdom that is coming will bring you face to face with those whom you perceive to be below you.
And God will ALWAYS take the side of the oppressed.
Which is really good news for the oppressed, but really dangerous news for everyone else.

As I said yesterday, Isaiah is a prophet, and the job of a prophet is to hold up a mirror and force us to be honest about what we see.
And for most of us, we are on a mountain.
We are not the oppressed, we’re the oppressor.
And I know, we don’t want to admit it.
But it is most likely true.

In these next few weeks… look in that mirror that Isaiah is holding up.
Be honest about how you really, truly treat those around you in the world: those who are different than you are, those who occupy a world that is not like your own.
And then ask yourself, when Christ comes this Christmas, where do you want to be?

Do you want to be lowered from your perch up on the mountain?
Or do you want to be raised up from the valley? And not raised because you’re suddenly oppressed but because you are down in the valley WITH those who are being oppressed.  Fighting for them, caring for them, being with them.

I know which one I want to be…