Let's Put the Good Book Down Besides Today

Every once in a while I read something I want to pass on. You may have read Nicholas Kristof’s fine article entitled, “And Jesus Said Unto Paul Ryan..."    As many Evangelicals                                     are rabidly faithful to President Trump (regardless…) it is good to turn back to the Good Book and put some of Jesus’ saying down beside tweets and orations on both sides today. The Bible is our guide. This is our standard always even though most of us do not come close to living by these enduring words. Come what may—whoever is our leader—God’s word trumps the American flag and anything else. (Even nasty comments heard at this year's National Correspondence Dinner.) Read Mr. Kristof’s article and ponder the present. And pray that all our divisions and all those on the outside looking in will be touched by the Spirit and find hope and peace and love. And God bless (all) America.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

The Times they are a Changin'

photo by JR P / flickr

Last week I started a three-part series on the Serenity Prayer. You know the prayer: “O God, give us the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, courage to change the what should be changed, and wisdom to distinguish one from the other.”

So last Sunday we talked about the first part of the prayer. There are two realities in our world—the things that cannot be changed and the things that can. So there are things in all of our lives that are not subject to modification. As hard as we would like—there are some things that will not change. Like Adam and Eve there is a tree in the middle of our garden that says: Do not touch. And like it or not we all have to come to terms with the things that just will not change. After a sermon like this one of my members came by one Sunday and said, “I know what you mean about restrictions. Our little girl told me, “Mama, if it wasn’t for you and Daddy and Jesus—I could do anything I wanted.” Well no, there is a tree in the middle of the garden.

Today we look at the second part of the prayer: “O God, give us the courage to change what should be changed.” It is not only a prayer nudging us to change but it is a prayer that deals with the massive changes that take place around us. Of course we have to reckon with the limits of our lives.  But that is only part of the story. Look at the infinite possibilities that stretch out before us all. Genesis did say :”Thou shalt not eat of the fruit of the tree…” but also remember Genesis said: “Thou shalt…” And with those two words the doors of possibility open wide to us all. Adam and Eve were created in the image of God. Both men and women. They forgot that. And if we ever get our hearts around that idea that all of us could really reflect the image of God—even little girls—what would it do for us?

But God did not stop there. He said, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it.” And so the possibilities of creativity just stretched our endlessly. And then God added: “Have dominion over every living thing.” You are in charge. That does not mean to shoot all the animals and pump Lord knows what into the streams. To have dominion does not mean to cut down all the trees and pave it all over with concrete and build yet another mall. Or to cover Hilton Head with oil. This is our Garden. This is the only one we have. 

Historically theologians have told us the chief sin is pride. God says something and like little children we stomp our foot: “No.” We will do what we want to do when we want to do it. But Harvey Cox has said that the central sin may not be pride at all—but sloth or apathy. I saw a bumper sticker one time that said: “I am neither for nor against apathy.”Just don’t do anything. Adam and Eve’s sin was that they turned away from being all they were meant to be. They abdicated their roles by refusing to accept responsibility for who they were and what they could do. They were to tend the garden. To make it gorgeous and lush.  To look out some morning at the fields and the downright beauty of it all and say with wonder and joy: “We did that. We did that.” That was the great dream.  

There are two words in the prayer—change and courage. The Methodist minister Leonard Sweet tells the story that when things got tough he would go to a little cottage in Little Bear, California. Tired and burned out—he said that special place—was like a blood transfusion. He would come back ready to tackle everything again. One night he got there and unpacked and went to bed. And in the middle of the night things started shaking and rattling. It even threw him out of his bed. And then suddenly it stopped. What had happened was that this was an aftershock of the greatest earthquake to hit California in forty years. He was trying to get away from all that he had left behind. And the aftershocks from the earthquake went on for days and days. Scary. And he said it changed the way the looked at everything. And so later he sat down and wrote this book called, Faithquakes. That earthquake was really a metaphor for what is happening to all of us. Looks like everything nailed down is shaking loose. Everything is being challenged. Even truth--especially truth. We all look out on a world that is different.

A friend of mine said a couple of years ago he was a seventh grade teacher. He told his class that he was going to bring a record player into the class that morning. They looked dumbfounded. “A what?” “A record player!” And he asked one of them to go to the shelf behind him and get the record player and put it on his desk. They all gathered in a circle  around his desk. Looking down at this record player. Like it was something from outer space. Not a seventh-grader in that room knew what a record player was. He was thirty-five years old and felt like an old timer. So he spent an hour with about 28 kids hunkered down around a record player. He explained that you take this black disc and carefully put in in the record player…explaining that then you carefully put the needle down so you wouldn’t scratch the record. He told them where you put the needle would determine what song you listened too. They rared back and laughed and laughed. But that day those seventh graders learned what a record player was. And I went into a bookstore the other day and guess what was there. A record player long gone is coming back. Crazy.

Change is everywhere. A man heard two women talking. One said, “What are you going to do after the party tonight? “The other woman said, “Oh, someone fixed me up with a date.” “Who with?” The other woman said, “I don’t know who it is. As a matter of fact I don’t even know if it’s a guy or a girl. It’s just so difficult to get a date these days that I don’t care.”

I think that one of the problems we have in the world today is that everything has changed so fast that a lot of people are just scared. And I believe the politicians are taking advantage of our fears. Just vote for me and I’ll take you back to where we ought to be. 

photo by col_adamson

So many people are dealing with all this change by denying it. There is a character named Quentin in The Sound and the Fury. He lived in a old crumbled-down mansion in Mississippi. Once a prominent family. All he could think of what he and his family used to be. The Past. And he took his grandfather’s pocket watch and put on on the desk and smashed the glass case and pulled the hands off the watch. He just wanted time to stop. And we would all like to do that some days. The kids grew up too fast. What happened. Where did all these wrinkles come from. Why does my over-fifty daughter keeps asking us: “Where is my Barbie camper?” But we cannot deny what is going on.

There is another way to deal with change. The prayer says: “Give us the courage to change...”  So down beside the word, change we put this word courage. We can deal with all the swirling stuff around us with courage. Adam and Eve were given this garden. Nah, they could not do everything but God stretched out this wonderful place and said, “Tend it.” Do we have the courage to do that? So many times through history we have failed miserably. But here and there—almost always in the minority—there was a little handful that made a difference. Dr. Fosdick used to say we can be part of the problem or part of the answer. The courageous ones say: “Well, let’s try something else. Maybe it will work.” And often this made the difference between success and failure. Not Adam and Eve. After they sinned the hid from God. And he came saying:” Where are you?” And they slowly mumbled we are over here covered in fig leaves. Why didn’t you do what I asked? God said. And they replied: “We were afraid.”

We’ve seen it over and over in history. This was the number one emotion that ran through

photo by Flavio Spugna / flickr

Nazi Germany. Fear. Some of you have been to one of these Holocaust museums.  Mounds of shoes. A room piled high in suitcases. Boxes of gold pulled from somebody’s teeth. 6 million slaughtered. How did they become monsters—those people in Germany. They were afraid. And in our time just beneath the surface there is a real terror lurking about our kids and families and government and church and stocks and bonds and about everything. Not to speak of the terfrorists. Fear can do terrible things. 

Did you know that since October we have taken 700 children from their parents and placed them in foster care somewhere. Simply because their parents are illegal immigrants. This is America. And we are a fearful people today. Some things are just flat out wrong. Where, O where is the courage.

Rollo May has said the French word for courage is heart. Don’t you love that. God give me a heart that cares. So let’s bring the earthquake into the church and into our lives. We gotta have heart too make it today. This church will celebrate our 229th anniversary in three weeks. You’ve been around here for a long time. Some of you 229 years. But you would not be here today unless somebody had stood up in a session meeting or out there in the parking lot or kneeling in prayer somewhere—and said: "With God’s help we are going to do the right thing here.” Mainline churches are having a hard time all over—even the Baptists believe it or not. 

And then earthquakes have touched every church and us all. We’ve all had to shift gears. And sometimes it is hard. I’ve talked to enough of you to know already that this new age of ours is not all it is cracked up to be. And the churches that just want to take the clock and stop it and take the hands off cannot turn back the years. Do you know what the seven last words of the  church are? “We’ve never done it that way before.”

So we pray this prayer: Give us the courage (heart) to change the things we can…” It will mean something different for everyone of us. Get up Sunday and put your clothes on and come on down to the church. Bring somebody with you. Give your money. Sing in the choir. Teach a class. Pray for your session and for those hurting here. Love one another. Oh I know. Some will leave. Some already have. And some of you have lost folks that you wish were here. You’re going to pray this prayer. You’re going to stand by your church. You are going to bring somebody in. And some of you have whispered: “What are we going to do?” Do? Make this 229 year old lighthouse what it still can be. People need this church in Pendleton. Some are sitting at home in their pj’s this morning have no idea that what you have here could help them in this world of change. This is your moment on stage folks—and God wants you to be a courageous people.

One of the great stories that I love is told in Edmund Morris’ biography of Theodore Roosevelt. One day a book fell into Roosevelt’s hands. It was written and put together by a man named Jacob Riis. That book was called How the Other Half Lives. I’ve seen the book and it is mostly photographs that showed the terrible slum conditions in Hell’s Kitchen in New York. There were pictures of old people who had nothing and had wasted away. Pictures of women who had worked hard and had too many children.There were pictures of little nine years old children working in sweat shops from morning until night. The book showed photographs of ten people living in two rooms of filth and squalor. TB and other diseases were rampant. 

The book made such an impression on Theodore Roosevelt who was Police Commissioner in New York City that he decided to pay the author of the book a visit. He went to Riis’ house and knocked on the door. No one answered. So he took out of his pocket his calling card and turned over and wrote some words on the back and left the card in the door. Mr. Riis came home and found the card that Mr. Roosevelt had left. He turned it over and read these words: “Dear Mr. Riis I have read your book and I have come to help.” I just love that. We have all read the book and now it is time to help.

That’s what makes the world a better place. And the church. And us all. Earthquakes are everywhere. But remember the Garden. And the infinite possibilities that stretch on and on. And let’s pray the second part of the prayer over and over. “God, give us the courage to change the things we can.” And who knows, one Heritage Day years from now after we are gone—people will say back there when things were hard—the people in Pendleton Presbyterian made it happen.

photo by Jean Gazis / flickr

(This sermon was preached on April 29 at the First Presbyterian Church, Pendleton. SC)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

What the House Chaplain should have prayed

Chaplain Conroy, his Mother and John Boehner
Official Speaker of House photo / flickr

Speaker Paul Ryan summarily dismissed the House Chaplain Friday for blending religion with prayer. He stated that the Chaplain should stay out of politics. Father Patrick J. Conroy, A Jesuit priest has served as Chaplain for seven years. Some in the House have said that the Chaplain should be replaced by a family man of non-denominational persuasion.

This is the prayer that was behind the firing of the Chaplain. Just before the tax bill was debated he prayed:

"God of the universe, we give You thanks for giving us another day. Bless the Members of this assembly as they set upon the work of these hours, of these days. Help them to make wise decisions in a good manner and to carry their responsibilities steadily, with high hopes for a better future for our great Nation.

As legislation on taxes continues to be debated this week and next, may all Members be mindful that the institution and structures of our great Nation guarantees the opportunities that have allowed some to achieve great success, while others continue to struggle. May their efforts these days guarantee that there are not winners and losers under new tax laws, but benefits balanced and shared by all Americans. May Your blessings, O God, be with them and with us all this day and every day to come, and may all were do be done for Your great honor and glory. Amen."

The following prayer might have helped Chaplain Conroy keep his job. And surely continue the good work of making America the country it used to be.

God of these your United States--we give you thanks for giving us yet another day. Bless the members of this assembly, especially those who stand behind our President and his great work. Help them as they strengthen his base which helps bring back the greatness to our land.

As we debate these complicated tax issues make us mindful of all the lobbyists who have worked tirelessly behind the scenes that the institutions and structures of our country will insure the  greatness of our yesterdays. Help the efforts of those in the House that vote to insure that American is number one in every way.

Remind us that as they struggle that it will be made clear that those that do not work have no right to eat--and that the monies in our coffers will make the successful stronger that money might trickle down like a mighty stream to the truly deserving.

May these new tax laws benefit those that have worked so hard and teach those without to see their sacrifices as a way to learn to live with limits and humility and love for the successful.

Keep us free from all that would give away the treasures of this fine land to irrelevant issues like health care, lodging,  food stamps and undeserving schools.

Bless all who support the leaders of our mighty country and give them the courage to ignore the cries and the outrage of the minority in the land.

We ask it all in the strong name of the One whose great desire is to keep American great and strong. Amen.

Just a reminder that prayer is a dangerous thing.

photo by alexbersin / flickr

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Mr. Trump and Character

photo by Keith Davenport / flickr

I am told that 80% of Evangelicals support Mr. Trump. I find this very strange. How in the world can you possibly ignore the utter cruelty and chaos that we hear day after day?

The Bible which Evangelicals purport to believe and preach say: There are only two commandments. Love God and love your neighbor. There are no exceptions—or “mulligans” to these words of Jesus. If we are honest we would have to confess that like the old confession goes: "We have not loved you with our whole hearts…we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.” But we keep praying the words hoping, hoping that maybe, just maybe we might love God more and we might turn toward those that often we ignore or dislike. Shamefully we all have our lists. But putting those lists down beside “love God…love your neighbor” our lists look pathetic and unchristian.

I saw The Faith of Donald Trump in a bookstore the other day. Hmm. I stood there in shock for a few minutes. I thought: “What faith?” I know—I know unless we are careful we can find ourselves doing to him what he has done to so very many. But—you really can tell the tree by its fruit.

I do not have to footnote that very long list of what I consider totally unchristian traits. We have heard them and witnessed many of these on TV. The way he treats people…the lies on top of lies. The cruel things he says about so many. His failure to move outside “his base” and understand that the President of this country is supposed to try to bring everyone into the circle.  All those Dreamers and so many others that he cares nothing about. 

I fear that Mr. Trump has opened up a Pandora’s box that will be hard to close. Some of the candidates running for seats in House and Senate for 2018 are already beginning to mimic hateful language, insensitivity to those different than they are. 

The President of the United States does not have to be a saint. History footnotes that we have a list of people who have served us that had all kinds of character defects. But none as glaring as those of Mr.Trump. Most of us would not want our children to behave this way. We would not want our Pastors to behave this way. We would not want someone teaching our children to behave this way. And we certainly wouldn’t want to live next door to someone that behaves like this.

Someone asked a prominent Pastor what was the essential quality for calling a Pastor if he could only name one thing. He said, “Character.” This is what every Pastor needs. And what we need from our leaders are people of character. 

Bill Coffin said once that “Hardly anyone in the world believes territorial discrimination to be as evil as racial or religious discrimination. But it is. Nationalism, at the expense of another nation, is just as wicked as racism at the expense of another race. In other words, good patriots are not nationalists. A nationalist is a bad patriot.”

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

After Easter Blahs--The Emmaus Road

Window at Leicester Cathedral
 photo by Amanda Slater / flickr

Easter had come and gone. Two of the disciples had heard the rumors that the tomb was empty but they had not seen him. And so those two followers—living through the horror of Jesus on the cross—couldn’t get it out of their heads. They tried to change the subject--but they both kept coming back to what had happened. And then we read I guess the saddest words in the Bible: "We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”

We’ve all been there—most of us. We had hoped. We turned away from the grave—where we had buried so much. And like those two in the story we shuffle back trying to change the subject. We had hoped. We had hoped to go on that trip we always talked about. We had hoped we would have had more years. We had hoped maybe to see him graduate from college and get married and maybe one day even grandchildren. We had hoped maybe, just maybe we would win the Final Four. I watched those players slowly make their way to the locker rooms.Team after team. They played so hard and lost. Heads down. Defeated.  We had hoped the Doctors could have stopped it. We had hoped that life would have been different. Or, as that character said in the old play, Winterset, “How have I come to this sunken end of a street, at a life’s end?” We had hoped. We know this Emmaus road. You and I. Hoping the marriage would work out. Hoping we would be able to help him or her. We had hoped. 

photo by Chris Brooks / flickr

The Emmaus Road was only seven miles from Jerusalem. But sometimes seven miles can be long indeed. So what do you do? Like those two after Easter—we go back to what happened before. To a life’s that’s different. Like the poet said, “When she died the shine went out of everything.”  And so we try to change the subject. Talk about something else. Read a book.The bars around here are filled with people that are just trying to forget. Young and old. So we turn to Facebook. Or Instagram.Or keep watching those funny things people send out on email or Twitter or whatever. We try just about everything. Carlyle Marney used to say, “We keep trying to forget that we all live in a haunted house.” Coming back from the funeral, on the way to the cemetery this widow sat in the back seat of the car sobbing ands sobbing. Her relative driving turned around and said, “You’re just gonna have to get over it.” So we talk about closure or turning the page or writing a new chapter. Starting over. 

Except those of us who have walked the Emmaus Road know it isn’t exactly that easy. Oh, we had hoped…we had hoped. But it was not to be—we thought. For on that road where those two tried so hard to forget a stranger came and wanted to know what they were talking about.

And they poured it all out. They told of the last supper in that Upper Room. Jesus washing their feet. The Garden where he prayed and the soldiers that came and Judas that kissed him. They told this man about that rigged trial where the crowd laughed and spit on him as the soldiers stripped him naked. And they told this stranger about the ugly crowd that yelled crucify him. And they told him that just three days before they had nailed Jesus to the cross like a criminal. It seemed so long ago. And then they spoke of black Saturday when nobody said a word. We had hoped they said softly.

That was then. But this is now. What does that long hard road mean and why did Luke be the only writer that gave us the story? It means, folks we are not alone. Like the old song, “We’ll never walk alone…” 

But know this, often we don’t even know that he is with us. Like those two that Easter

photo by Petros Gagilas / flickr

evening. And we discover that this stranger is no stranger. No wonder we keep singing, And he walks with me and he talks with me and he tells me I am his own…”Hoping…hoping.

But remember the story. The writer Buechner says: “It is precisely at such times as these that Jesus is apt to come into the very midst of life and its most real and inescapable. Not in a blaze of unearthly light, not in the midst of some sermon, not in the throes of some kind of religious daydream, but…at supper time, or just walking along a road.”

 Look at the accounts after Easter. Mary crying her eyes at the tomb and Jesus calling her name. Thomas and all the others behind locked doors—scared they would be next. And the Risen Christ coming to Thomas and to them all. Or John’s story of Peter and the others going fishing. Just going fishing. And they fished all night and guess what—these fishermen caught nothing. Fisherman. And from the shore someone said, “Cast your nets on the other side…” And it worked. There were so many fish the nets almost broke. And they squinted their eyes toward the shore. "Who said that?" And it was Jesus. Jesus on the seashore. 

Maybe the Emmaus story means that the times that he comes are maybe everyday moments. Maybe this is how he comes. Sitting down at a meal. A simple meal. No turkey and dressing and a linen tablecloth and the finest silver. Just a simple meal. This is how he comes. Just a little old ninety year old nun in a wheel chair cheering her team and the tiny moment caught fire and everybody knew. Maybe it is always in the simple things when Jesus comes.  

Oh I know we would have told the story differently. We'd put flyers out everywhere. We'd rent a plant and have Jesus is alive...emblazoned across the heavens. We'd even begin to sing: He’ll be coming round the mountain when he comes. We will all go out to meet him when he comes. We will cook chicken and  dumplings when he comes. We will all go out to meet him when he comes. We'll all be shouting' Alleluias when he comes..." Not quite folks. The Emmaus us story is always different than we thought. Not brass bands. No Alleluias. So quiet you could hardly hear a pin drop.

Let me tell you a story that I think fits when I’m trying to say. We didn’t have a baptistry when I was Pastor here like we do today. We used the old church which was right out there where the Fellowship Hall is when we baptized. And every baptism took place over there across the street. And when it was time for my son, Matthew and the Mattox’s son, Matthew and Paul Caffrey to be baptized we planned it for a Sunday night—for we had services at night back in the dark ages. Very dark. We had been on vacation and came in on Sunday afternoon to get ready for baptism and somebody called up and said, “Uh, somebody forgot to fill the baptistry.” “What!”  “We’ve got all these people coming to the baptism in and and we planned this date for Bernie Caffrey because he was very sick with cancer and we scheduled that service between his chemo sessions, He could come this night. And besides our son and Matthew Mattox were to be baptized.” The man that brought the news said, “Well, what are we going to do?” I kinda muttered, “I don’t believe I could get by with sprinkling them. Might lose my job.” I thought and thought and said, “Maybe we could use the Lynch’s swimming pool.” Well, I called them and told them I had a strange request—there was no water in our baptistry and we had three candidates that we had to baptize. Could we bring the church out to your house and let us use your swimming pool in about, say forty-five minutes.” Long pause. Then they said yes. So when people came to church that night we told them that we had a contingency plan. We were going to have baptism any the Lynch’s house.  Everybody looked at each other. The preacher had done a lot of weird things—but nothing like this. Baptizing in a swimming pool--like the Jehovah's Witnesses! Well, I was sick at heart. I could just see people standing around giggling and making fun and calling out things like: “Is the water cold?” “Preacher, can you swim?” But that did not happen.

Like the Emmas Road—on that Sunday night when people surrounded that pool…something special happened. I will never forget it. We baptized both the Matthews and then Paul. And I had asked Paul’s Daddy, who was dying from cancer…and who had once been a Priest—to lead us in a Prayer of Dedication. So—Bernie—bald headed and lean from the chemo—reached in his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper and asked us to pray. And this is what he prayed:

"Heavenly Father, at this time we would like  to dedicate these young people to You as they choose to become members of Your intimate family through the sacrament of baptism. Remember how You led Your chosen people out of Egypt by Your show of power at the waters of the Red Sea? Please show the same power for these boys tonight and protect them as You protect all your children. Remember how You led your chosen people through the waters of the river Jordan to let them enter the promised land? Please lead these boys through the trials and joys of life to the heaven You promised to those who follow Your way. Remember how You gave salvation to the world by the blood and water that flowed from Your Son’s side on the cross? Please give the same salvation to these boys as they enter the waters of baptism as Your adopted sons. Remember how You sent the Holy Spirit to Your close followers of Pentecost and gave them the courage to be brave Christians in their words and actions. Please send the same Holy Spirit into these boys tonight so that they can carry out Your teachings in their lives. Be with us all, Heavenly Father, so that we can also live out the power of our baptism in our own lives. Amen." It was a holy moment. 

And when it was over Dr. Caffrey took the boys out to McDonalds for a celebration. It was the last public appearance that Daddy ever made. We had his funeral here just a few weeks later. 

I think we all need to hear the Emmaus story today. For you see—it isn’t just their story. If we look carefully it is our story too. Just walking down whatever road we walk—who knows what will happen? Maybe, just maybe our hearts, like theirs, will burn within us as we meet him where we are.

photo by giveawayboy / flickr

(This sermon was preached at the First Baptist Church, Clemson (SC) , April, 8, 2018)


--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

The Easter Word: "It is Finished!"

photo by James Tissot / flickr

We begin today where we left off last week. At the foot of the cross. Week after week we have listened to the last words that Jesus spoke from the cross. The first word he spoke from the cross: “Father forgive them…And then, to a thief he said: “Today you shall be with me in paradise…” The third word may be the tenderest: “Mother…Behold your son, John…” And then he said: “Why hast thou forsaken me?” And then that terrible word out of pain and delirium he said:”I thirst…” And then there toward the end as his life was slipping away he prayed: “Father…Father…” 

But there is one more word from the cross. It was the last thing Jesus said. “It is  finished.” It was a word of completion. In the Greek the word reads: “tetelestai.”It is finished. 

Jesus’ time had run out. The scourging and the pain and the heat had taken their toll. So he bowed his head and said, “It is finished.” Tetelestai. What did it mean, this last word? The gospels say that this was a loud cry.  A mighty shout. Tetelestai. The word in Greek was an exclamation. The root word is telos. It means achievement. Fulfillment. Completion. The New English Bible translates the phrase: “It is accomplished.”

Most, standing there, did not hear the words as a triumph. How could they? Even the

 photo by Charles Meeks / flickr

disciple and his Mother. They looked up at blood and gore and remembered a rigged trial and the unfairness of it all. No they could hear no triumph in what he said. All they could see was a slow and terribly dying. Surely it was a word of defeat.

But they and we hear it wrong. This finishedness was no defeat. Jesus had done what he came to do. Calling sinners to repentance. Saying in his first sermon: I came to preach good news to the poor. And we have missed it. I came to release the captives—even those whose bodies are marked with tattoos and faces as hard as rocks. Them too? He also said he had come to bring sight to the blind and liberty to all the oppressed and to say right now…right now this is God’s time. They wanted him to judge and to underline their prejudices. And to side with them in despising all the outsiders. No wonder even at the beginning they tried to push him off as cliff. His heart was just too big.

But how wrong they were. He came too make them more human and kinder. To take off the burdens of everyone and forgive their sins. To wipe away all the things they hated about themselves. He came for the weary and heavy-laden. young, the rich, the restless, the hookers, the tax collectors and fishermen and farm boys. Everybody!

And so what he said there at the end was this: I have finished what I came to do. It is accomplished! The Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world has done just that. Tetelestai!

Maybe it means that we don’t have to hang on some cross. That we perfectionists don’t have to work so hard to be liked and successful and to feel good about ourselves. Too quit all this judging of all the people that are not like us. Folks, it is finished. And this is why we sing allleluias and haul out these lilies and even buy our Easter bonnets. We can put down our weapons. We can love one another: even fundamentalists and liberals and Democrats and Republicans and all those in-between. And if we can’t love them at least, he says, we can try to love them.

In my first church and my first Easter we had what we called an opening assembly at Sunday School and everybody sat in the same room to make announcements and greet one another and see who was missing. And the Sunday School Superintendent turned around to his new-green preacher and said: “Preacher don’t you think it would be wonderful to let all the boys and girls march around the church while we sing: 'In your Easter bonnets with all the frills upon it.' What do  you think?" I almost fainted. And I said back to him: “No, I don’t think we should do that.” And he snarled back, “Then we won’t do it!” I made a mistake. Probably the best thing I could do in that drab room on Easter with all those tired farmers sitting there would be to let the kids march. To celebrate Easter. Tacky as it was I now believe Jesus would have approved.  

You see, the last word has been spoken. And they took his lifeless body down, down from the cross. And as Mary cradled her boy’s broken body in her arms the others, mostly women, just stood there sad and grief-stricken. There was nothing left to say. And God bless him, Joseph of Arimathea  stepped up to the mother and said, “I have a tomb you can use.” And this was followed by black Saturday. The saddest day. Remember Emily Dickinson’s poem: The Morning after Death.” The house is quiet. You just sit there. There is nothing to say. And that was the way it was for Jesus’ mother and her friends. Just nothing to say.

used by permission Easter Morning 37 / flickr

And then came Sunday. John’s story may be the best. Mary Magdalene came. Just to see him for the last time. But the tomb was empty. Empty. And she ran to tell the others that someone had stolen Jesus’ body. And the others came to see for themselves. Sure enough Jesus body was not there. So they left and Mary Magdalene just stayed there. Weeping. Weeping. And somebody she thought was the Gardener spoke and said, “Why are you weeping? “And she said, “They have taken away my Lord’s body!” And she thought she had heard that voice before. And then this stranger called her name: “Mary…Mary.” And she knew who it was. He called her name and told her to go and tell the others. And she did. And now we know the rest of the story. Not only did he call her name. But he also calls our names. Jim and Brenda and Mark and Sally and Edna and Joe. Oh we do know the rest of the story. The gospel is still working on our unfinishedness. As he worked on Mary’s that morning.

We all have so much that is not finished. Marriage stuff. Family stuff. Sex stuff. Money stuff. Anger stuff. Depression stuff. Church stuff. Selfishness stuff. Hurt stuff. Every one in this room has brought something unfinished with us today.

As I was writing this sermon I remembered a story that I think says so much. This story is true. Kay Chance is a Methodist preacher said that one day her husband of 22 years came in and said he wanted a divorce. He had found someone younger and prettier. Kaye was devastated. So she began to try to piece her life back together. Hard business. She was separated for two years before the divorce was finalized. She kept thinking maybe he would come back and they could start all over again. 

One day the Pastor she worked with sat across the desk listening to her as he had done so often. The Pastor told her he wanted to give her something. He reached in his desk and pulled out a plastic easter egg. “One day you are going to have to bury the relationship with your husband. Not now. Your pain is too fresh. But I want you to hold on to this egg. Put it somewhere so you can see it. When the time comes you will know what to do with it.”

photo by Charles Rodstrom / flickr

She put the egg on her bedside table and she looked at it all the time. Asking, "When Lord—when. What do I do with this egg?” Six months later she was served with the divorce papers. She had to fly to Myrtle Beach where the divorce would be finalized. She and her 16 year old son boarded the plane.

In the lawyer’s office they sat across from each other and discussed in clinical terms who got what. They fought about visitation rights and insurance and everything. Finally it was over and she and her son walked down to the beach. She told him to sit on the bank and wait—she had something she had to do.  She walked down to the water. 

She took from her purse that Easter egg the Pastor had given her months before. She had put inside the plastic egg a picture taken of all three of them the Christmas before they separated. She filled the egg with sand to weight it down and wrapped it with tape. And she threw it as far as she could throw the into the water. “God,” she prayed, “bring new life out of this death. Bring some kind of resurrection from this grave.” The egg hit the water and she turned and walked back up the beach toward the son. They fell into each other’s arms crying and crying.

Then they walked to the car. Her back was to the water. She said she wanted to turn around and see if the egg had drifted toward the shore. Maybe her husband would come back and they could start over again. But in her heart she knew better—and she never looked back. She wrote later that the act of throwing away that egg was her first funeral as Pastor.

I told that story one Easter and found her address and sent her a copy of the sermon. Kaye wrote back and said her story was not quite over. The letter said she had moved on. It had been very hard. She was called to be an Associate of a large church in Georgia. At the new church she had met a wonderful man and they were to be married soon. She ended the letter by saying, ”New life really does happen after all.”

The God who finished his work on the cross reaches out his arms to all our unfinishedness. And on Easter as the flowers and trees begin to bloom—we are reminded that life begins again. So, like Kaye we put inside our egg whatever it is that hurts and brings pain. We try to put it behind us. Knowing that Easter is real. And Paul’s words are true: “I am sure that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” So this last word may be the best word. It is finished. And he calls our names. Thanks be to God!

photo by Rod Waggington / flickr

(This sermon was preached at the First Presbyterian Church, Pendleton SC , Easter Sunday, 2018)

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com