Resurrection Power

Wounded Resurrection Power Restores Community

Jesus’ resurrection confronts the sadness and loneliness of Thomas’s doubt. Many people in congregations left Easter Sunday’s celebration of the resurrection with feelings similar to those of Thomas. Somehow, Thomas was not in the right place at the right time to see Jesus show up in the flesh. No doubt, people in the pews can relate to Thomas’s missed opportunity. Perhaps they were unable to attend a family Easter gathering. Maybe a bunch of friends had box seats to the hottest game in town, and they were not able to afford one. Maybe a chemo treatment interrupted an opportunity for career advancement. Human beings are endlessly plagued with feelings of not fully belonging to the group, and they desire a saviour to use magical power to restore perfection.

Time and again, the disciples seek a messiah who overwhelms them and the world with crushing military might and magical cures. Today, the power of the resurrection is most realized in the real, deep wounds of Jesus’ own body. Without those wounds and the real sacrifice that God made on the cross, Thomas’s faith would always be hobbled by his overwhelming doubt. Yet people still ask: how can God’s reality of overflowing love and life confront and transform our parched world and wounded bodies?

Jesus makes faith happen today by breathing the Holy Spirit upon the disciples and blessing them with peace. He shows Thomas and all God’s people that the life-changing resurrection embraces the wounds all people carry. God the Creator’s peace, Jesus’ wounds, and the breath of the Holy Spirit lead Thomas to believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. Then, Thomas trusts God to care for his body and his life. Just like Jesus’ ministry prior to the cross, Jesus reaches for the outsider and restores Thomas to his place in the community.

from Sundays & Seasons

Radical Hospitality

Following Matthew’s call in Matthew 9, "Follow me", a group of religious folks express their disdain for Jesus’ inclusive table practices. He dines with “tax collectors and sinners,” expanding his circle of welcome far beyond the bounds of what was culturally expected or acceptable.

This moment presents an opportunity for us to think about our own practices of hospitality. Are our dinner guests primarily those who look and think just like we do? Do our social gatherings mirror the broad and inclusive welcome of Jesus?  

What would radical hospitality look like for us?

God Gives More than Enough

It is the “first day of the week” (John 20:19), the day of the new creation, but to those locked away in the upper room in fear, the world is as it always has been. So entrenched are they in the ways of grief and guilt that the Risen One in their midst needs to offer his life-giving invitation twice: “Peace be with you.” The logic of the new age is peace, not retribution; forgiveness, not vengeance. With the invitation to new life comes also the means: the gift of the Holy Spirit, breathed upon them and within them. Just as the Father sent Jesus into the world, so now are these disciples sent as witnesses to God’s saving work.

Pentecost is therefore the crowning achievement of the Jesus story. Now, more than ever, these huddled disciples would have just cause to sing the “Dayenu” (“It would have been enough”) verses from the Passover seder meal, but revised: It would have been enough for the Word and wisdom of God to have been born in the flesh . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for the Word to grow to adulthood and share his stunning parables about God’s gracious activity in the world . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for this Word to say to his enemies, “Father, forgive them” . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for this Word to have died on a cross for us . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough that he rose again in blessing, not vengeance . . . Dayenu! But now, beyond what we would even expect—the Word becomes our word and it is written on our hearts at Pentecost . . . Dayenu! It is enough, and more than enough to enflame our ministry of reconciliation in a world in need of a healing word.

from Sundays & Seasons

Overhearing Jesus

At the ascension we, like the disciples, are left looking at the sky. But in the High Priestly Prayer (John 17), Jesus brings us back to earth. In the prayer he speaks not only from the perspective of the risen and ascended one, but as the Word of God, now made flesh. The prayer anticipates the accomplishments of this Word, which does not return empty (Isa. 55:11), namely in the fulfillment of the “hour” of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. It is as if Jesus has already ascended “to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (John 20:17), and has returned to tell us something vital.

   

As we overhear Jesus, we learn that God’s character and motive are identical to those of Jesus, who has now, fully and completely, “made God’s name known.” We no longer have to speculate about the nature of God. God’s purposes and love are made known in Jesus. But we also learn about ourselves. Jesus’ prayer frequently mentions the “world”—the world at once hostile to God and God’s anointed, and yet also beloved of God (John 3:16). With Jesus’ commissioning today we have our work to do, to make God known in and through Christ Jesus. The Living One works through us as “words within the world,” who no longer seek meaning among the dead, but are empowered to make known the vibrant, new reality of Easter.

from Sundays & Seasons

Why Do You Stand Looking Up Toward Heaven?

The Ascension

We often cast our eyes upward to look for God. When we are feeling lonely or misunderstood, we raise our hands to ask why, or shake our fists in gestures of prayer, anguish, or praise. While the scriptures promise that God is king of all the earth, sitting on his holy throne (Psalm 47), we need not only look up for God’s action in our lives. Our ascended Lord lives in the heavens, but Jesus does not leave his disciples—or us—to fumble while he naps in the clouds. Before he ascends, Jesus promises that we are clothed with the Holy Spirit’s power, witnesses “to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

“Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” the two men in white robes asked the witnesses remaining after Jesus ascended. Why do we stand still in our lives? Is it that we just saw God (Look! Up there! Did you see?), so we expect God to arrive in the same way again? Can God be that expected and predictable? This story of Jesus ascending to the heavens after his time with us on earth gives us mixed feelings: we know he’s returning to where he belongs—out of this world full of brokenness and sin to holiness and glory. Still, our longing is intense: Lord, we want to see you! How will we know it is you when you come again?

Ascension Day could be explained as the cynical “I’m outta here” of a God weary of us self-centered, broken humans, but that explanation would be short-sighted because it leaves out the important stop on the cross. Instead, Jesus’ departure is accompanied with the promise of the Spirit’s presence remaining among us. We look up to the skies for help, then return our gaze to those among us in need of our care, to the body of Christ and the wind of the Spirit among the baptized, preparing for the time when Jesus comes again to gather us in.

From Sundays & Seasons