Home with God

I write about the 23rd psalm a lot and talk about it even more. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” begin some of the most familiar words in the Bible.

You might have heard it in church, maybe even sang it, or memorized it in Sunday School or heard it at a funeral or celebration of life. It’s so common to that last one that you probably have heard even if you’ve never been to church. It’s the go-to verse in books, movies and television for a funeral scene. So much so that it might, at times, feel like a cliché.

But it’s not. It speaks and speaks and speaks in so many ways. It talks about God’s presence and how God provides, nurtures and protects through every moment of our lives. Every moment, from green pastures to shadowy valleys, when facing and enemy to when our lives are full to overflowing, in moments of fear and moments of joy. And then, when this life is done, we find a home with God. It offers comfort, hope, surety and strength.

And because the author uses an image - the shepherd - personal to themselves and from their own time, it can also invite us to wonder about how we image God and our own relationship with God. Not just through sheep and shepherd, but in the images we travel through in the psalm. April 22nd is Earth Day, I good time to wonder about our relationship with God in creation.

Think about where God, the shepherd, leads us. The green pastures, the still waters, the valley of shadow, all these moments that we describe with the earth we know. Wherever we are in the geography of our lives, God is with us. We are restored and refreshed from our rest, lying down in the green pastures. Beside still waters we’re led down paths that are right. And even when are lives seem full of shadows, as if we are in the deepest valley, God goes there with us. Wherever we go, God’s presence leads us away from fear into the confidence of an intimate, life-giving relationship, one in which there is “goodness and mercy” that doesn’t have to be earned, only accepted. 

Living with respect, care and love must be part of our relationship with the real earth, not just the metaphor. We are connected to it as closely as we are connected to God. I hear that in the psalm’s closing words, “I will dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.” Maybe that means a metaphorical house, but I like to think it can be the real thing, too: God is alive in all creation.

What if we thought of this earth as the sacred space of God’s house, the physical manifestation of God’s presence in all creation, including us. Jesus, in John’s gospel, tells the disciples that “in my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” (John 14:2) Perhaps this is just one of the many dwelling places. Perhaps we are that connected to each other, to creation and to God.

See me. Touch me. Feed me.

All the gospel stories of Jesus appearing to disciples immediately after the resurrection seem to be full of doubt. It's not just Thomas. Mary didn't, at first, recognize Jesus in the garden. The disciples who found the tomb empty didn't understand that it meant Jesus was alive, they thought someone had taken the body. When the women tell the disciples Jesus is alive and they've seen him, they don't believe it. Even on the road to Emmaus, the disciples don't recognize Jesus. How many times does Jesus have to say "hey, look, it's me?"

A lot. Every time, even. But is it really because they "doubt” Jesus? Or is it maybe that, after a seemingly unending string of amazing, miracle-filled days, there was one event that stretched them just too far. Death.

Sure, Jesus raised Lazarus and Jairus' daughter from death and he repeatedly told them that he would rise, too. But he was gone now. Who was going to do it? They were alone.

I wonder if it wasn't more than just shock and grief at their loss or fear of the authorities that caused them to hide away. I wonder if it was the greater fear that now it was up to them to carry on, teaching and healing as Jesus did, loving the outcast as he did, feeding the hungry as he did, showing everyone The Way as he did. Those were pretty big shoes to fill and now they were alone.

But then, there's Jesus, standing among them. "Peace," he says to them. In Luke, Jesus says "Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” Then he asks them for some food and he eats it in front of them.  (Luke 24:39-43) The author of Luke wants to be clear: Jesus is alive for real, flesh and bone and empty stomach.

Jesus, Luke says, "opened their minds to understand the scriptures" (Luke 24:45). But wasn’t that what Jesus life had been all about? It seems like Jesus is repeating himself in this new life, but with a giant exclamation point of “see, I’m alive.” Or maybe he was just saying “I told you so.” And maybe that’s because they didn’t doubt Jesus or God or the power of new life, they doubted themselves. 

Here’s Jesus saying touch my wounds, feel where I was broken. I’m hungry, feed me. What if, now, Jesus wasn’t trying to show them Jesus, but reflect ourselves, our wounds, our brokenness, our hurt and our hunger, saying what he’d always said: reach out to the broken and hurting and embrace them, heal them. Feed the hungry. You can do it.

I wonder if the resurrection story isn't about more than belief or teachings or faith, it's about the new life that's as real as an outstretched hand and a shared meal. It's as real as recognizing the presence of Jesus walking beside us in whatever guise Christ may take.  

Like a Child

There should have been children in the Easter story. Even one child could have made a difference. Instead of being full of adults who didn’t believe - one, in particular, we call a doubter - what if there were even one child who did? It might go like this …

Before the women, before the disciples, little Thomas was at the tomb that first Easter morning. He’d probably ran there, maybe even skipped, laughing and singing. When he got there, he looked for Jesus. I know he’s here, he thought, I’m certain of it.

Thomas chatted with the angel who rolled the stone away and scared off the soldiers guarding the tomb, as if conversations with angels were an everyday thing.  (They are.) And when the women arrived, he wondered why they were still sad.

“I was certain you’d be happy today,” he said. They told him that they’re sad because Jesus is dead and he laughed and said “no, he’s not.” They looked at Thomas a little strangely. They scolded him for being silly. “But he said he’d be alive, I’m certain of it,” Thomas said.

They began to scold him again, but then they noticed the stone rolled away from the door. And they saw the angel. And the angel told them, “he’s not here; he’s alive, just as he said.” The angel told them to go and tell the disciples and they headed off, happy and still a little scared because, wow, an angel told them and that doesn’t happen every day.

Maybe not to adults, thought Thomas, who was a little irritated for moment. “You didn’t believe me, but you believed an angel,” he called after them. Oh well, I guess you didn’t believe Jesus, either, he thought to himself. He said he’d be back.

Then the women saw Jesus and they ran and fell down at his feet and were so glad to see him they cried and laughed and didn’t know what to say. And Thomas said, “oh there you are Jesus, I knew you’d be here somewhere,” and he gave Jesus a hug. Jesus smiled at Thomas and then he said to the women, “don’t be afraid; go and tell my friends I’ll see them in Galilee.” 

When the women left, Thomas flopped down next to Jesus and said “I’m glad you’re back, Jesus. I mean, I knew you would be ‘cause you said so, but that business last week was nasty. I could tell they were hurting you. You okay? Why’d you have to do all that?”

“Well,” said Jesus, “it’s like this. I just want people to come back to God, to be close to God. People are going to think about my death a lot and they’re going to think different things about it and they’re going to come up with reasons for it. And that’s okay. Mostly. But I’d ike them to remember my life. See, when folks get older, they start to have trouble believing things. The more life they live, the more they start to think things are complicated and they need proof before they’ll do something. They need to see something to believe it.”

“No kidding,” Thomas said. “My mom always checks to make sure I’ve washed up before bed, even when I tell her I have. She doesn’t believe me. So I always say ‘I told you so.’”

Jesus smiled and chuckled. He said,  “I was hoping that if I showed people how to love and care for each other, they’d see that and want to live that way too. And then they’d be able to see all the good that’s already in each of us. They’d see that God really is here, right inside us. We just don’t always make the right choices to see God and share God with each other.”

“But I believed you, Jesus,” Thomas said earnestly.

“Some people find it easier to believe than others,” said Jesus. “I don’t know why, they just seem more open …  Like a kid.” He smiled and hugged Thomas. “Like I always tell people, you need to come at it like a kid. It’s simple.”

“But why did you need to be hurt,” asked Thomas. “Why did you need to die and then be alive again?”

Jesus sighed. “Well. Because I’m alive again, just for a short time, I get to say I told you so.”

“What?” said Thomas. “My mom says that’s not helpful when I say it.”

Jesus laughed. “No,” he said, “I mean really, truly. I’ve tried so hard to show people how God is alive in them, just like God is alive in me, and always will be. That’s what my life’s been about. Love, grace, kindness, the good that’s at the heart of all living things, that’s God. That’s the life that’s in all of us. This is my chance to say see, I told you. Now go and tell everyone. We have to share the good news, Thomas, we have to share the life, because I’m not going to be here long. I have to go and be with God.”

“But you’re alive again … ” began Thomas.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” said Jesus. “We only get to be here for as long as we need to be, and I’ve done what I need to. Now, my life is a part of you, that means I’m alive in you, and when you share me with others, I’m alive in them, too. We’re all a part of each other, just as God is.You have lots to do, yet, Thomas, believe me.”

What's in the way?

The tomb was empty that first Easter morning.

In the various gospel tellings of the story, there may have been an angel or two there to tell the women that Jesus was alive or the women may have simply discovered it, told the disciples about the empty tomb and they then rushed in to see the linen clothes lying where there should have been a body. According to John’s account, Mary is the first to see Jesus in person as she turns away from the empty tomb. The point is, the tomb is empty.

And the characters in the story each react with fear, wonder, disbelief - seemingly anything but the realization that what Jesus said would happen, did happen. No one came to the tomb three days after his death joyfully singing “Jesus Christ is risen today” and expecting to see Jesus sitting up and having a celebratory pancake breakfast.

But that’s how we celebrate it. Just as if the expected happened. The tomb was empty. Jesus is alive. And then, once the singing is over, the chocolate eggs are found (and eaten), the lilies have been taken home, we’re left with living that life-giving story: Jesus is alive. 

Jesus is alive in you and me because the life of Jesus showed us how to live. Jesus showed us how the divine spirit is alive in all creation and how we can live that in the world, through love and grace, care and compassion, how we - you and I - are capable of being what Jesus is. That’s how Jesus is alive.

The tomb is empty because, try as we might, the way we live in the world, the way of power and control, selfishness, material wealth, ego and desire, cannot kill the life-giving love that is God. That’s the point of the resurrection story. Love wins.

The tomb is empty because love is alive. It can’t be contained. It gets out in the world and it lives through us, through all things that are alive. Maybe a question to ask of this story is “what gets in the way?”

See, I left out a detail of the story didn’t I? We focus on the empty tomb, but the tomb is empty because the stone covering the opening had been moved. Jesus didn’t pass through it or sneak out another way, the stone was rolled away.

Maybe that’s a detail we pass by a little too lightly. What’s the stone that gets in the way of us living as Jesus teaches? Maybe there are stones. Maybe there are many and they’re different shapes and sizes. And each of us will have our own stones to move, too. They will be heavy, so what would it take to move them?

It seems in the story that Jesus didn’t move the stone all by himself. All four of the gospel accounts mention angels being present.

Perhaps, when we’re celebrating Easter this year, we might pause for a moment and wonder about what gets in the way of love breaking out of the tomb and getting into the world. Perhaps we could take a moment and look for angels around us, the helpers who might move the stone with us. They’re there. Just as there are stones in the way, there are hearts and hands to move them.

In the moment

Our churches will be handing out palm crosses on Palm Sunday. I think the symbolism of the palm, that was waved in celebration to welcome the hero Jesus, fashioned into the cross, the means of his death, is a meaningful and thought provoking representation of that last week before Easter. It helps us hold on to the story.

I've often struggled a bit with Palm Sunday “traditions.” When I was younger, we had the big long palm fronds, you know the kind that you can fan out or hold tight together (making them into "swords" was an important feature when you're a little boy). Later I remember having the leafier ones that we were encouraged to wave as we walked around, pretending to celebrate Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem. Once or twice, I remember going outside and walking round the block, waving palms branches and singing, celebrating that Jesus, the Messiah was here, just like they would have back then. The neighbours probably thought we were crazy. Maybe they were right.

That's my struggle. We can't do it just like they did back then. I don't mean just the palm branches that aren't native to where I live or the man on a donkey or even the presence of Jesus himself. I don't mean the different context of how we'd welcome a messiah now or even what it would mean to be one. I mean the moment. We know what happens next in the story. The people who welcomed Jesus that day, the people who accompanied Jesus that day, even the soldiers who stood by and watched Jesus that day, had no idea what was going to happen next. They only knew that day.

We do know what happens.  Even as we tell this story of celebration and joy, we know that it turns into something very different over the next few days. That's not a bad thing and I'll come to that in a minute. But just right now, give me this moment. Can we hold this moment and find meaning in it before we move on?

The people who celebrated Jesus that day had likely heard the stories about the miracles, how he fed people who were hungry and healed people who were sick. They heard how he talked about peace and the new kingdom and they'd heard him called the messiah, the promised one. And that could mean only one thing: this was the guy to overthrow the Romans and restore Israel to its former glory. After all, he was a son of the house of the great king David. Their perception of Jesus was very practical, down to earth and in the moment. That's what all the fuss was about.

But that raises a question: are we thankful and honouring our hero for what's been accomplished or are we really celebrating what we expect of them?

Let's first celebrate the man who has done so much, shared such compassion and love and comes, alone, humbly riding a donkey, a sign of peace. Stop there for a moment and we might then be able to hear the message that he brings and see the transformative power of the way of life he teaches by his own example.

But we don't pause there nearly long enough, nearly often enough. Perhaps if we did, we would find the strength to live that way and grow into a better life and better relationships with respect and hope.

Instead, we hear the fears of those who's power is threatened and their fears become our fears. We see only weakness if our hero doesn't defend when attacked, let alone reply in kind. We feel disappointment when flaws are exposed, very human failings appear and our expectations aren't met. How often have we abandoned heroes who did meet our expectations or, worse, turned on them?

That's when knowing how the story proceeds can teach us. The same faces that were in the crowd to welcome him were likely in the crowd that condemned him. We are sometimes still that crowd, thinking that, somehow, disappointment, hurt and fear should be satisfied by punishment rather than compassion and understanding.

This journey from Palm Sunday to Easter is our journey, too. Celebration, conflict, death and brokenness are all part of our living. We begin with love, sometimes wandering far away from it, turning on it, even, when it disappoints us. Yet love still returns to us. When will we turn to love?

Let it grow

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

The gospel of John tells a story of two Greeks, visiting Jerusalem for the Passover festival, who come to see Jesus. Literally, it seems. They very politely ask one of the disciples, who asks another and they go and tell Jesus. You know how that happens: when you want to meet a celebrity, you have to get past their entourage or security. You might even need a backstage pass or something like it to get into the “meet and greet” that’s your opportunity to meet this famous person face to face, shake their hand, maybe even get a selfie.

Except, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. Not for us, anyway. Jesus is definitely a celebrity by now. John places this story after Jesus’ big arrival in Jerusalem that we now call Palm Sunday and before his arrest. As John tells it, this is Jesus’ last public words. So I think it’s safe to say that these people had heard of Jesus. Foreigners, likely not Jewish, who’d heard about the signs, the healings, the preaching and came to see for themselves what this is all about.

They might well have said “show us Jesus.”

I have to think that’s why the author of John includes these characters. Either the author then left out a paragraph - the one where Jesus says “hi, how are you, I’m Jesus” - or they’re incidental filler and seemingly ignored or: there’s something else going on here, something reflected in how Jesus answers. 

“Show us Jesus.” Jesus answers that it’s time, then, time to be “glorified.” I don’t think Jesus means that his death will be glorious or that he’ll shine in a Transfiguration-like moment, but rather that something will come of his life, something greater than these moments of love, healing, compassion and grace that he’s lived. Jesus changed lives he touched, but that’s only the beginning: he’s a seed that’s been planted.

And that’s exactly what he tells them. The seed must be planted, it must be nourished and grow in order that there is fruit. He’s planted the seed of love and showed us that the divine spirit and human soul that is him is in us, too. It’s not about Jesus the person, it’s Jesus the Way, Jesus the spirit, Jesus the love. It’s the Jesus that’s in all of us. That’s what Jesus has shown all of us. 

Every now and then, people wonder what Jesus would make of the world today. The classic is “what would Jesus say if they were to show up at church on a Sunday morning?” I think they’d look around the room, look everyone in the eye and say “show me Jesus.”

Context, Context, Context

If you’ve never been to church or read the bible, you might still recognize “John 3:16” thanks to born again christian Rollen “The Rainbow Man” Stewart. He first held up a John 3:16 placard at an NBA game in 1979 and since then, others have regularly brought the sign to baseball games, hockey games, football games, even the Superbowl. No explanation, no other words, just John 3:16.

Not Stewart, though. He's currently serving three consecutive life terms in prison relating to a botched kidnapping attempt. He should have read John 3:16.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

Thing is, we often treat John 3:16 just like that placard. Like it’s a single, stand alone saying, as if we don’t need to know any more than that. It’s all right there. Even Martin Luther apparently described it as “the gospel in miniature.”

But that’s not how it happens. According to the author of the gospel of John, Jesus says this in a conversation with a Jewish leader named Nicodemus who seems open, at least, to hearing what Jesus has to say. So they talk and Jesus has a bit of a monologue in which he talks about the Spirit and being born again from above. That’s a loaded sound bite for another occasion, but, as he continues to talk, Jesus moves on to talking about himself using a metaphor he thinks someone like Nicodemus would understand. He reminds him of a strange story involving a bronze serpent that heals.

It’s recorded in the book of Numbers, the fourth book of the Hebrew bible. It’s a story from when the Hebrew people were in the desert with Moses. They’d left slavery in Egypt far behind, but they hadn’t yet come to the Promised Land. They were complaining, as they did a lot in those days, rebelling against Moses’ leadership and complaining about how God was — and wasn’t — taking care of them. They doubted.

So God sends poisonous snakes that kill many of them, causing the people to come to Moses and beg forgiveness for complaining and doubting. Wait, it gets weirder. Moses talks to God and God tells Moses to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole. Those that look at it and believe will be healed and saved from the snakes. They do, they have faith, it’s all good and everyone moves on.

So Jesus tells Nicodemus that he, Jesus, is like the bronze serpent. He will be lifted up and those who believe “may have eternal life in him.” Then, he hits him with John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

But he’s not done yet, he moves on to one of John’s “go to” images: light. Jesus says that those who believe will come to the light and those who don’t will stay in the darkness. In the light, good will be seen for being good, but evil will try and stay in the dark where it can’t be seen.

I feel like I just went to a bible study there for a minute. But that’s just my point: I don’t think that one verse can stand alone without the context of Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus.

We might also get mired in the debate about exactly how that verse is translated. The “so” part, I mean. Is it about how God loves us “so much” or how God loves us “like this?” And, before you know it, we’re measuring the value or the manner of God’s love.

But it’s not about that. I believe God’s love is immeasurable and God’s gift is Jesus’ life. The love is immeasurable, unconditional and freely given and Jesus is the demonstration of that love at work. I don’t think the point here is God’s generosity in loving or giving, it’s our choosing to accept it, believe in it and do something with it.

Just like the bronze serpent story, it’s not enough to look up at Jesus and proclaim “we’re saved!” I think John includes this story of Jesus and Nicodemus to talk about how we love, not God. This is Jesus saying “God loves you, God sent me to show you how to live that love, now what are you going to do?” It’s your choice: what are you going to do?