The Final Word

Sermon preached by Matt Staniz on May 15, 2011.  Sermon refers to predictions that the world would end on May 22 that were publicized via radio and highway billboards.

Podcast Powered By Podbean

So…did you get the message?

Apparently we are headed down the home stretch. The billboards have been warning us for months: Judgment Day - May 21, 2011.

Have summer plans at the shore? Too bad! World Series run for the Phillies this fall? Forget it! God is apparently ready to close the book on the world as we know it, and it’s going to happen this coming Saturday.

Which means, for people in my line of work, today is our last chance to preach--the last sermon. Today is the final word.

That's more than a little bit of pressure, you know? You better pay attention!

Of course, to be honest, it also feels a little bit like the last day of school.

So, what should the sermon on the world’s final Sunday include?

As we face the possibility that we are in the final week of being God’s people on Earth--the final week of being the church--I think it’s appropriate to go back to the first week; to go back to the beginning of God’s mission through the church. We can look to the beginning of the church because, quite simply, our mission as followers of Jesus is the same mission that is was when it began. The world has changed dramatically over the centuries, and continues to change on a day-to-day, moment-by-moment basis, but what it means to be followers of Jesus is still exactly the same.

We hear it in the words of Acts chapter 2:

They devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

This is how what we call "the church" began. And, quite frankly, the purpose of people following Jesus has not changed at all in 2000 years. The people we read about in Acts chapter 2 had a purpose and that same purpose belongs to us today.

They became a community driven by God revealed in Jesus. They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles; the teaching passed along from what Jesus taught. They devoted themselves to fellowship; to being a community. They devoted themselves to breaking bread together. They devoted themselves to prayer. As they gathered together around the gospel and around the breaking of bread, and as athey gathered together to pray--things happened.

There was awe--there wonders and signs, and the community that had formed were driven to turn themselves inside-out as a community in order to participate in what God was doing in the world. They saw everything they had as a means toward God’s mission. They devoted everything God gave them toward meeting needs. No one was abandoned. No one was left behind.

And that community of fellowship and generosity, that community built around profound loving relationship (with each other, with God revealed in Jesus, and with the world God loves) is the very same community--with the very same purpose--that we are a part of today. We are the same church today that was launched in Acts chapter 2.

We are called to be in relationship with God. We are given the same teachings rooted in Jesus Christ. We are invited into a life of prayer as we pay attention to God’s presence with us today.

We are called to be in relationship with each other: to devote ourselves to fellowship. And "fellowship" simply means being together; spending time together (and probably enjoying it, too!). We are called to devote ourselves to breaking bread together. Even as we do that together at the communion table, we also break bread together in the church basement. We also break bread together in each other’s homes. We also break bread at a playground picnic table with a group of children. We also break bread together at a tailgate party outside a Phillies game.

And as we grow in relationship to God and one another, we are also called to be in relationship with the world. We are called to gather all that God has given us and use it to meet the needs of the world God loves--the world God has placed us in to be practitioners of love.

Our relationship with God and each other turns us inside-out as a community because God has brought us together in the world in order to be a part of what God is doing in the world. God did not bring us together in this world in order to bide our time on the way to somewhere else. God did not bring us together in this world in order to wait to go to heaven. God did not bring us together in the world in order to wait for the day that we will all be snatched away.

If that were the case, putting up billboards reminding people to save the date is all we would need to do.

But that’s not what Jesus came to make possible. That is not the kingdom of God described in scripture. Jesus teaches us to pray, "Your kingdom come, your will be done..." where? "On earth as in heaven."

There is a "final word" for us to hear today. I do have a "final word" to proclaim, but that final word has nothing to do with billboards pointing to May 21, 2011. You see, I did my own research this week and, quite frankly, the billboards got the date wrong. I’m sure an adjustment will be announced--probably on May 22--but I expect that the date will still be wrong. The "final word" on God’s work in the world does not point to a billboard on a highway in 2011. God’s "final word" points to a cross on a hill 2000 years ago. God’s "final word" is the cross of Jesus. God’s final word is an endless, sustaining, amazing grace that is ours because of Jesus.

It’s the final word of grace that we hear in the apostles’ teaching. It’s the final word of grace that we experience in community. It’s the final word we experience as we break bread together. It’s the final wordof grace that we experience as we pray together. It’s the final word of God’s grace that turns us inside-out as a community and makes us builders of God’s kingdom and reflections of God’s will--not just in heaven after we die, but starting today, on Earth as in heaven.

If anything, the billboards can remind us that there is an urgency to our mission. We should approach following Jesus as though time is limited, because--judgment day or not--this world needs to experience the love of God now. The world needs to experience grace and love this week. The hungry need to be fed this week. The sick need to be cared for this week. The lonely need to be loved this week. The needs around us (and among us) must be addressed this week.

So, regardless of what we think will happen on Saturday, I pray we embrace our identity and mission as God’s church this week.

And, if it turns out that billboards did miss the date, I figure a ladder and a bucket of paint is all that we need to spread word that we’ll still be proclaiming that final word of God’s grace for as long as we are on this mission!

Be sure to come for 9:30 next Sunday, though. I wouldn’t want to cause any undue panic! [ed. note: this is a change of schedule to begin the summer]

Until then, may we remain constantly surrounded by the final word of God’s grace and be urgently committed to sharing that word of grace in everything that we do.

Amen.

Recognizing Jesus on the Road

Podcast Powered By Podbean

May 8, 2011 sermon by Matt Staniz.  Scripture: Luke 24:13-35.  (May 8, 2011 was the first Sunday after the death of Osama bin Laden was announced)

In these 50 days that make up the season of Easter, we continue to gather around the stories of Jesus--after the resurrection--appearing to the disciples. They are strange and wonderful stories, to say the least. Jesus shows up and, time after time, the people in the story don’t recognize that it is Jesus. At the empty tomb, Mary thinks it’s the gardener. Jesus appears to the disciples in Jerusalem and the disciples think that he’s a ghost.

Today we get the wonderful story of two disciples walking along the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus and talking about all the things that had happened. It had been quite a weekend in Jerusalem and they were walking the seven miles to Emmaus and back into their lives now that Jesus had been killed.
During their 3 hour walk they had plenty to talk about as they tried to make sense of what had happened. And then, we’re told that Jesus himself approaches them. Only they do not know that it is Jesus. It doesn’t occur to them that Jesus is there with them on the road.

Jesus asks them what they are talking about, and it stops them in their tracks. "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place?"

When I hear that moment in the story, it reminds me of a very specific moment in my life. It reminds of a moment on September 11, 2001. I’m sure we all have pretty defined memories of how that day unfolded for us. I imagine that—to some degree—they’ve crossed our minds this past week.

The moment I remember as I hear of this encounter along the road to Emmaus happened late in the morning on September 11. I had been watching the story unfold on TV and passing word along to others on the campus of our seminary in Philadelphia. It was at least 11am--very late in the story of that morning--when I came outside and a classmate came up to me and asked "What’s going on?"
I began to give her the latest update. By that point it amounted to the news that planes that were unaccounted for had been located.

And then she reached out, grasped my arm, and said, "No. Matt, wait. I don’t know what happened. What’s going on?"

And like those disciples on the road to Emmaus, it stopped me in my tracks as the thought flashed through my mind that I actually had to be the one to tell this terrible story.

This past week has brought with it a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings on the news that Osama bin Laden was found and killed. Anger and grief from 9/11 has resurfaced; sadness has resurfaced. Feelings of relief, satisfaction, even excitement, are tempered by uncertainty and the unsettling knowledge that there is nothing nice about this story.

As I’m absorbing the news, I’m reminded that our mission and purpose is the same as it has always been: God calls us to be instruments of love, grace and peace. God wants us to resist every form of evil and to protect each other. Yet, as we seek to be followers of the God revealed in Jesus, we are constantly reminded that our ideas of peace and justice--and our understanding of what God is like--must never be pulled into the same dark places that can lead people of any faith to do the things Osama bin Laden did.
The disciples on the road to Emmaus had a difficult story to tell. But tell it they did—without even knowing that the person in the story was right there with them. Jesus was with them on the road and they didn’t even know it.

I think this story of the road to Emmaus is wonderfully important to us today, because the same thing happens to us as we walk the roads that make up our lives. Like those disciples, We don’t quite expect the resurrected Jesus to show up. We don’t quite expect resurrection to actually be true. We don’t quite expect light to shine from darkness. We don’t quite expect our sins to be forgiven. We don’t quite expect to be given new life; to be reborn. We don’t quite expect that love will actually win. We don’t quite expect the resurrected Jesus to show up.

Like the disciples, it’s easy for us to walk along the roads that make up our lives, and be consumed by the stories and circumstances that make up our lives, and not even notice that Jesus is right there walking the road with us.

When have you not noticed God walking beside you?

When the disciples finally recognize that it was indeed Jesus, they said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?"

"Were not our hearts burning within us?"

I’m pretty certain that they weren’t talking about acid reflux.

They finally realized that they knew, deep in their hearts, that something was happening along that road. I pray that we can pay attention to the moments when our hearts are burning--those moments when we sense that something more is happening than just another walk up the road or another story that is hard to deal with. I pray that we notice the resurrected Jesus walking with us. Jesus might be a neighbor, a friend, co-worker, or family member. Jesus might even be a stranger along the road. I pray we can sense the nudges that something more is happening, and that it might be Jesus.

Even in this moment, as we gather in community and worship, I pray that our hearts will burn within us while the risen Jesus opens the scriptures to us and is revealed to us in the breaking of the bread.

May our hearts burn with knowledge that Christ is with us. May our hearts burn with joy because Jesus walks with us. May our hearts burn with hope for the road that lies ahead. May our hearts burn with the good news of the gospel. Amen.

Show Me Your Scars

Podcast Powered By Podbean

Sermon preached May 1, 2011 at Temple Lutheran Church.  Based on John 20:19-31.


Been thinking about scars this week. We all have scars. Every one of us. Every scar brings with it a story, and those stories become a part of who we are. Every single one of us is scarred from the moment we are born. Each one of us carries at least one scar so universal that we consider it a body part: a belly button. A reminder that, even in the moment of birth, we had to adjust to a whole new reality. A whole new life during which we will pick up more scars along the way.

Each scar comes with a story. We could probably spend the rest of the day telling, and listening to, the stories that have left us with scars.

Some of the stories make us laugh as we look back. They make us laugh at our own foolishness. If I lose my hair, I will surely have to explain to people the 2.5-inch scar that barely remains hidden today on the top of my forehead. They will hear a story about a group of 19-year old males (so many scar stories probably begin with such a group!), and all the wonderful ideas we came up with to entertain ourselves. In fact, when we put our minds together, we always managed to come up with even dumber ideas.

One of those ideas was a game we called "Izzy Dizzy". You've probably seen or played this game at some point. It involves standing a baseball bat up and bending over, placing your forehead on the top of the bat and spinning around the bat as many times as you can. When you stop spinning, you then try to walk a straight line.

We came up with the great idea that this was a game we should play in our dormitory hallway. Our dormitory was like a big brick shoebox with a hallway straight up the middle with doorways on both sides every few feet. We decided to place a pile of matresses in the hallway with one matress standing on end like a wall in front of them. We wanted to see who could spin around the bat and then proceed down the hall and jump over the wall and land in the luxourious pile of soft matresses.

Of course, I got to go first.

I bent down, spun around the bat as many times as I could. I started up the hallway, leaning on the wall until my shoulder bumped into a doorway. I stopped and focused on the matresses, which were right in front of me. So I positioned myself and leapt with all my might.

As soon as my feet left the floor, the whole world spun. The matresses flew away in one direction, and into my path came the concrete and steel doorway that I had just bumped into. I bumped into again, much harder and head first.

We laughed all the way to the emergency room as the others described to me what they witnessed, which was that I bumped into the doorway, stared at it, and then jumped as hard as I could straight into it.
　
Some of the stories make us laugh. Some of the stories are routine and mundane. I spent my college years working in food service collecting scars almost weekly—from burns, knives, and industrial fans to go with the hockey stick scars I collected on my brow.

Some of the stories that come with the scars we carry remind us every day why we call them "scars".  Some of the stories go back to the darkest moments we’ve experienced. Some of the stories we would never laugh at or forget. Some of the stories we don’t want to remember or re-open. They're stories we wish had never happened. Even though scars are proof that we have survived--that our bodies have been mended--they still leave us forever marked, reminding us that there are things that irreversibly change us.
And the scars that mark our skin are really just the first layer of scars. They barely scratch the surface, don’t they? Because it’s not just physical scars that we carry through life. Often, the scars that hurt us the most are the ones we can’t point to on our elbow or forehead.

As we gather together this morning, we gather around a story about scars. We hear the story of Jesus appearing to the disciples. A story that particularly draws attention to Thomas and his desire, or perhaps need, to see the scars.

I imagine it’s pretty natural for each of us to relate to Thomas and the doubts he had.  I suspect that the reason Thomas is included in the story is because his story reflects a piece of our own story. The Bible never refers to Thomas as a doubter. Thomas is always called "the twin", although we never hear about the other twin (the brother or sister). Some of the other siblings among the disciples get mentioned, but not this time. It’s been suggested that Thomas is called "the twin" because he is our twin; that Thomas resembles our own struggle to believe. I find that possibility very encouraging and interesting.

As I thought about the story of Thomas this week and prayed, it occurred to me that Thomas would not have struggled with the idea that Jesus had risen from the dead. Thomas was there just a few pages earlier in the story when Jesus told the disciples that his friend Lazarus had died. It was Thomas that told the other disciples to go with Jesus to Lazarus’ tomb. Thomas wouldn’t have struggled with resurrection because he saw Lazarus come out of the tomb. Thomas did not need to see that Jesus was risen. What Thomas needed to see was the scars. Thomas needed to see where the nails marked Jesus’ hands. Thomas needed to see where the spear pierced Jesus’ side.

It would be reasonable to think this was simply because Thomas wanted proof that this was really Jesus. Maybe so. But I suspect that there was something more that Thomas was seeking. He needed to see the scars, touch them even. Because the good news of Easter was not simply that Jesus was alive, but that the scars were real. The scars tell the story of Jesus. They are permanent reminders of what had happened. Thomas needs to see the scars because we need to see the scars and know that they are real.

Because of Thomas, we are reminded that God has scars. God has scars just like us. Scars that, even after the resurrection, take us right back to that darkest moment and the reality that Jesus suffered the unthinkable.

The gospel of John tells us that the word of God is not a book. The gospel of John begins by telling us that the word of God became flesh and lived among us. The word of God entered into our skin, even the parts with scars.

God has scars, just like you. God knows every one of your scars, and every detail of every story behind them: the funny ones, the boring ones, and the ones that hurt more every day. In Jesus, God has come into our skin. God bears every one of our scars with us. It's why we are invited, again and again, to this table to receive the presence of Jesus broken for us, poured out for us. God dwelt in our too-easily-scarred skin, so that we could be nourished as we continue to heal.

Our scars do serve as a sign of healing. They are proof that our bodies can mend themselves. But they are also complicated lingering reminders that we have been irreversibly changed. And God doesn’t take away those scars. Instead, we hear the words of Jesus. We hear the words of God in our skin. We hear the words of God with scars: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you."  Jesus sends us, scars and all, to be the hands and feet of God in the world today. We are the wounded hands and feet of Jesus.

And our scars may be just what the world needs to see. The world doesn’t need people who have it all figured out to tell them how to live and what to believe. The world needs to see scars that look just like theirs and feel just like theirs. The world needs to meet wounded broken people who have encountered a wounded broken God who has made possible a love that is unbreakable and goes beyond every scar’s damage.

"As the Father has sent me, so I send you."  Jesus sends us, scars and all.  And there is no length that Jesus not already gone to meet you in the midst of your scars. Jesus is already there. Jesus already bears the same scars, and invites you to come and see, come and touch, come and believe.

It is in the scars of the living Christ that we meet the depth of God’s love for us.

It is in the scars of the living Christ that we meet the word of God in our skin.

It is in the scars of the living Christ that God meets us right where we are. Even the parts of ourselves that we try so hard to keep hidden.

It is in the scars of the living Christ that we meet the good news of the Gospel. Amen.

Love Wins - Easter 2011 (Temple Lutheran Church)

Podcast Powered By Podbean

We are among millions of people around the world who got up this morning, at the beginning of this new week, and have gathered together to celebrate that Jesus has risen. Millions are gathering around the world--many at this very moment--to shout “Alleluia” and “Christ is risen, indeed!” as we listen to the story of two women named Mary arriving at the tomb of Jesus.

It’s hard, though, to really experience it in the same way as the women did that morning. We all came out this morning knowing that Easter was here, which is not how that morning of the first day of the week began for those two women named Mary. They weren’t headed out to a festive occasion. They weren’t headed out to shout “alleluia”; they were going to a grave. They were going to a place they wish they weren’t going to. They were going to mourn, to keep vigil. To try to make sense of what had happened.

They arrive at the tomb--and then--all heaven breaks loose! The earth shakes. An angel of the Lord descends with an appearance like lightning. The stone is rolled away and they’re told “Don’t be afraid, you’re looking for Jesus; He’s not here!” Bet they didn’t see that coming, now did they?

I believe that God wants your Easter experience to be no less remarkable. God wants us to experience the living Christ today. That is the only reason we are here together right now. God wants to meet each of us in our lowest moments, just like those women going to the grave of someone they loved. That’s what Easter is all about.

When we have no strength, when we have nothing left and we can’t go on, God comes down--right where we are--and does something completely unexpected. The story that we think is going to unfold is completely changed.  Because God has the final word. And that final word is “resurrection.” God’s final word for us is that Love Wins.

When you find yourself assuming that it’s over. When all is lost. When all is gone. When life is broken and it can never be put back together again.  When you swear that it could never be rebuilt--hold on a minute. Because in that moment Easter has, in fact, just begun. Just as you’re arriving at the place you wish you weren’t going to--when there’s nothing left that you can do--God brings resurrection. God still has the final word that love wins. Resurrection announces that God has not given up. God has not given up on you. God has not given up on your life. God has not given up on this world.

Easter is happening right now--today--in 2011. God is once again inviting us into resurrection. God is once again pointing to a new reality--the reality God has made possible. The reality that love wins. Resurrection wants to be real on this Easter Sunday. God wants to speak that final word that love wins today.

People already gathered today, just like we are right now, in Japan. In the face of unthinkable despair, they placed hope in resurrection, because Easter says that the earthquake doesn’t win. Easter says that the Tsunami doesn’t win Easter says that nuclear radiation doesn’t win. Easter says that love wins.

People gathered by the millions across the continent of Africa and placed hope in resurrection because Easter says that AIDS doesn’t win. Easter says that Tuberculosis and Malaria don’t win. Easter says that extreme poverty doesn’t win. Easter says that love wins.

Armenian Christians are gathering today around the world, including right here in Havertown, Pennsylvania, and are remembering that today, April 24, is the anniversary of the mass murder of 1.5 million of their family members in 1915. Not their distant ancestors, but their parents, their aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends. Still, they gather shouting Alleluia--even through their tears. Because Easter says that genocide doesn’t win. Easter promises them that love wins.

To people in Libya, Sudan, Egypt and across the Middle East Easter says that corruption and violence doesn’t win. Easter says that love wins.

Right now--at this very moment--people are proclaiming Alleluia at Easter worship in Haiti. Their Alleluias that are rich with resurrection life. As one of their pastors put it: they will not be defined by rubble--they will not be defined by the earthquake. They are defined by resurrection, because Easter says that disaster doesn’t win, cholera doesn’t win. Easter says that love wins.

People from North Carolina to Oklahoma are proclaiming Alleluia right now because Easter says that tornadoes don’t win. Easter says that love wins.

To those of us trying to keep afloat in a bad economy, Easter says that the recession doesn’t win. Unemployment doesn't win. Foreclosure doesn't win. Uncertainty doesn't win. Love wins.

To those in the halls of our high schools that fear for their safety and are ashamed of who they are, Easter says that it gets better because bullying doesn’t win. Love wins.

To those lying in hospital beds this morning--and to those who sit next to them hour after hour--Easter says that cancer doesn’t win. Alzheimer’s doesn’t win.
Autism doesn’t win. Chronic pain doesn’t win. What wins? Love wins!

Even to those of us who visit the graves of those we love--who would give anything to have them show up again, even for a moment. Easter invites us to proclaim alleluia because God has the final word, and death doesn’t win. What wins? Love wins!

Love wins. Whatever it is for you that seems to be blocking the light. Whatever it is that is like a stone keeping you in a tomb, Easter says that it doesn’t win. Easter says that love wins. Easter announces that God has not given up. God has not given up on you. God has not given up on your life. God has not given up on this world.

Easter tells us that God has not abandoned us. God has not abandoned this world. Something new has begun to put this world back together. Something new has begun to put your life back together. God’s Amazing Grace has entered this world and wants to change everything. God’s Amazing grace wants to set you free from anything--from everything---that gets in the way of love.

Easter wants to set you free today: set you free to live in God’s love for you, and send you to live out God’s love for the world. Because it is God’s love working in your life—It is God working through you, through us, that will bring about love’s victory. Love wins (a lot of ad lib here) when we feed the hungry. Love wins when we clothe the naked. Love wins when we help the poor. Love wins when we look at another person--no matter who they are, what they've done or how different they are from us--and see a child of God. Love wins as we do God’s work with our hands!

How you live your life makes a difference. You can be a part of the new reality that God is creating every day, right here in this world--this world that God will never give up on.

Love wins. That is what Easter tells us today.
Love wins. That is the good news of Easter.
Love wins. That is the promise of resurrection.
Love wins. That is why we shout Alleluia!
Love wins….That is the good news of the gospel.
Amen.

Resurrected from the Bed - Lazarus Sunday

The Lazarus Sunday message began with reading the story of Lazarus from the Gospel of John followed by clips from the Lance Bangs documentary “The Lazarus Effect.”

“This illness does not lead to death.”

As we gather this morning around the story of a man named Lazarus, it is my prayer that this is a gathering of hope.  Over the next two weeks, Christians around the world will journey again into the story that is at the center of our faith:  the death and resurrection of Jesus—the one that we call Savior, Lord and Christ.  It is a story that pulls every one of us down into the grave, only to be called forth into new life.  It is a story that does not ignore the reality of death, and in doing so, finds a hope so powerful that death is defeated.

As we gather around the tomb of Lazarus today, this story wants to have a meaningful impact on us

This story is hoping, begging, pleading to actually mean something to us.  It wants to be more than words that we read.  You see, we can gather here and read a good story about resurrection, or we can gather here and be resurrected ourselves.  We can gather here and participate in the resurrection of others.  It all comes down to whether the Bible is your storybook or your story.

And there is a lot at stake, my friends.  The world we live in has no need for stories about resurrection; the world we live in today needs to experience actual resurrection.  The world needs people that have been given a hope bigger than death.

Just a few years ago, it appeared that the grave would have the final word for too many in our world.  HIV had taken hold of the continent of Africa and appeared unstoppable.  20 million lives have been lost.  I can’t even fathom that number: 20 million lives.  Entire communities destroyed.  Children orphaned.  People watching everyone they loved dying, one at a time.  Babies born without a chance of living.

And, to be honest, the world was slow to respond.  To be even more honest, the church was even slower.  I remain convinced it was because AIDS was connected to the gay community and too few Christians and Americans had the courage to respond.  I say that not as an accusation, but as a confession.  The only finger I’m pointing is pointed right at myself.  May God and the millions who suffered have mercy on me.

Thankfully, however, that was not the last chapter of the story.  The story does not end with the words “Lazarus is dead”.  The presence of God among us, the living presence of Jesus has already promised that “This illness does not lead to death, rather it is for God’s glory.”

God has been on the move in the last ten years.  The next chapter in our story has been written.  It is a story that has unfolded in laboratories as new antiretroviral medicines have become a reality.  It is a story that unfolded in clinics established across Africa—people going to the ends of the earth to not only bring treatments, but to take on the massive task of setting people free, not just from this disease but from the vicious cycle of poverty.

In 2002, treatments were available, but they cost nearly $10,000 per person annually.  Even so, 50,000 people were being treated—a massive achievement, but only the beginning.  Today, we are living in a world where what seemed impossible just a few years ago Is unfolding around the world at this very moment.  Treatments that cost $10,000 per year in 2002, now cost only $140—that’s less than 40 cents per day to save a person’s life.   The 50,000 that were being treated have become  4 million.

"This illness does not lead to death."

This new chapter is a story that has also unfolded in the halls of power, around the world and here in the United States.  It became possible because people all over the world insisted that this is not simply an opportunity for charity.  People all over the world began to insist that this is a matter of justice—a matter of fairness.  Nobody’s ability to live should be determined solely by what part of the world they are born in.  Where you live should not determine whether you live.  As people saw what was happening and insisted upon justice, the leaders of our world took notice and did the right thing.  President Bush created the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief.  The United Nations created The Global Fund to fight AIDS, TB and Malaria.

God has been on the move.  Scientists and doctors and nurses have been on the move.  Presidents and senators and governments have been on the move.  Business leaders and humanitarians and musicians have been on the move.  And, yes, since God has been on the move, God’s people have been on the move.  People motivated by the love of God, living out their faith in the world, have been active in every part of this new story being written.  Today, for example, there are over 1,500 other congregations joining with us for the sake of the poor and the sick on this “Lazarus Sunday.”

And now it’s time to write the next chapter in this ongoing story.  With millions of lives already being saved, millions more are still waiting.  Today, however, they are not waiting to die, they are waiting to live.  They are not waiting for the grave, they are waiting for resurrection!

We have the treatments that will save their lives.  We have the right strategies and resources to reach them.  We only need to maintain the will to make it happen.

This is why millions around the world have joined the ONE Campaign.  This is why many of us have sent emails, made phone calls, & written letters.  To remind our leaders that these promises must be kept even as they work to keep our budget in check and economy moving forward.  This is why a group of five of us were thrilled to spend nearly an hour last month talking with Senator Toomey’s advisors about this important story while encouraging them to identify good solutions and respond.  We also delivered over 3,000 signatures from Pennsylvania ONE members.

The same has been happening across the nation in the offices of elected leaders of every political stripe.  This is not about any political agenda or political party.  This is about saving lives.  This is about every one of us living like people who believe in resurrection.  This is about refusing to treat the Bible like our storybook.  This is about writing our story…our part in God’s unfolding good news.

All of our faith, all of our prayer, all of our worship, everything that we call sacred and gather together around—all of it amounts to nothing if it doesn’t change our reality and send us out into this world to bring new life.  Resurrection means nothing if it remains locked up in our churches or closed up in the covers of a dusty old Bible.  It only matters if it springs forth like Lazarus—if we step out of our own graves and make the same possible for others.  That’s the only good news that is actually good news.  That is the only way the gospel can exist in the world today.

There’s a few things that I want you to do today. Don’t leave here today without adding your voice to the ONE Campaign.  I want every one of us to be a part of this.  Go to www.ONE.org to become a member.

I also want you to watch “The Lazarus Effect”.   It’s a wonderful story.  It’s only 30min long.  You can watch the whole thing at the bottom of this post.

Be a part of a worldwide gathering of hope.  Let the story of death and resurrection truly define your faith and life.  If you don’t have 30 minutes right now, please take a moment to watch this short video clip that shows the amazing change made possible by getting antiretroviral treatments to those who need them.   Thank you for reading this far!

And here's "The Lazarus Effect" (30 min.)

Headlights, Taillights, and the Light of the World

Sermon for April 3, 2011 at Temple Lutheran Church. Scripture text: Ephesians 5:8–14 and John 9:1-11.

"As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."

Jesus speaks those words as he encounters a man blind from birth.

Everyone else, including even Jesus' disciples, are concerned with determining how sin created the man's blindness: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus didn't seem much concerned with the question. He said the answer was "neither" and made it clear that he was more interested in God's works being revealed. And then Jesus spat on the ground, made some mud, rubbed it on the blind man's eyes, and sent him off to wash. When the man came back, he could see. The others were concerned about how the man came to be blind. They were concerned with understanding the way things came to be this way. Jesus is more interested in making something new. The others looked at the present as the result of the past while Jesus looked at the present as the key to the future. And in the middle of all of that, right before he spits on the ground, Jesus says,"As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."

Light is a significant theme in the gospel of John. The opening paragraphs in chapter 1 are all about light coming into the world. As the story of Jesus unfolds, It's about Jesus bringing light into the world and the resulting struggle of the light coming into the world, but people still loving darkness. In this passage, Jesus comes right out and makes light his mission: "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." Jesus came to be light—to bring light into the world.

In other places in scripture, Jesus makes it clear that we are a part of that mission. Jesus not only says "I am the Light of the world," but "You are the light of the world" followed by the words spoken to each of us as we are baptized: "let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven." Jesus makes us a part of that mission—Jesus calls us to be light. That invitation is reflected in our reading from Ephesians: "For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light." Because of Jesus, we are light!

"For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light — for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord."

We are invited—called by Jesus—to be light; To live as children of light. As we gather together as a community of people following Jesus, the question I invite us to wrestle with is are we going to be headlights or taillights? I can't take credit for the distinction—I came across it this week as I was reading. It was Martin Luther King, Jr. in his Letter from Birmingham Jail that first talked about headlights and taillights in this manner. It got me thinking about headlights and taillights on a car and how they are both lights that shine in the darkness, but that they shine in different ways and in different directions.

Taillights are there to communicate what the car is doing. They send the message "here is where the car is at." They shine brightest when the brakes are engaged; they light up when forward motion is slowed down. Taillights shine backwards.

Headlights, however, shine forward. Placed at the very front of the vehicle, they shine forward into the darkness. Headlights do not simply indicate where the car is at, but illuminate the road ahead to determine where the car can go. Headlights expose things that are hidden by darkness so that the car can be moved in a direction that is good, right and true. Headlights don't light up when forward motion is slowed down, headlights shine in order to make forward motion possible.

Dr. King lamented that Christians and churches were too often merely being a taillight for our society instead of a headlight shining at the forefront and illuminating the way forward toward God's promised land. He described "a religious community largely adjusted to the status quo standing as a taillight behind other community agencies rather than a headlight leading [people] to higher levels of justice."

As followers of Jesus, we are called to be light. The words that Dr. King wrote from a jail cell in Alabama are not too far removed from the words that define baptism for us. Every baptized person is claimed not only by God, but also by a community—by followers of Jesus called to be light. The community promises to include that person "so that they may learn to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace."

In Jesus, God comes into our world. God comes into your own reality—your very own life—and brings light into darkness. Jesus steps in and makes a new life possible for you. It is no less dramatic than if you were blind since the moment you were born sitting in darkness listening once again listen to voices judging you as they asked each other what sin created you blindness.

And then you hear the sound of someone spitting on the ground.

And then you feel a hand rubbing mud on your blind eyes and sending you to the water—and as you wash you receive your sight. You receive a new life.

Others may be concerned about how you came to be blind, but Jesus is more interested in making something new. Others might look at the present as the result of your past, but Jesus looks at the present as the key to your future.

Jesus brings you light so that you can be light. Not a taillight that shines backwards, but a headlight that shines forward for the purpose of finding what is good and right and true. A headlight that "proclaims Christ through word and deed, cares for others and the world God made, and works for justice and peace."

Jesus brings you light so that you can be light—so that you can shine forward with the good news of the gospel. (amen)

Known and Loved at the Living Water Well

Scripture provides us with countless wonderful stories. Sometimes, however, we miss the true treasure of these stories because we try to think our way through them instead of trying to step into the world the story shows us. As someone who stands up and preaches on a regular basis, I'll be honest and admit that sometimes it's the sermon that gets in the way of the story. I hope that doesn't happen here today.

Today's story speaks of Jesus, exhausted from traveling, sitting down next to a well. He meets a Samaritan woman there, and something life-changing happens. As we enter into this story together, I invite you to consider what this story might sound like if it were being told by that woman. To help us hear this story from that voice, I invite you to listen to it again, this time from the mouth of a woman:

To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known—and Jesus does both for this Samaritan woman by the well. Entering into this story, we are invited into the same experience ourselves. I'd like to let this story surround you today by asking you to consider a few questions that I pray will draw you into this story without the sermon getting in the way.

Can you see yourself in this story? Can you see yourself meeting Jesus in this way? Some of us may be able to connect with her as a woman. That may be less of a connection for the males reading this. Maybe. I'm pretty confident that no one reading this is from Samaria and can connect wither her because she is a Samaritan. Are there any Samaritans here today? I didn't think so.

Often, when we hear the word "Samaritan" it's easy to think it refers to a good person; a kind person. We've all heard the story of the "Good Samaritan" and have probably used the term "good Samaritan". In the Bible, however, a Samaritan was simply another ethnic group. A group that was generally excluded—on the outside—which is why Jesus made the good neighbor a Samaritan in that other story. For today, however, being a Samaritan was reason to be avoided and excluded.

So, what makes you a "Samaritan"? The Samaritan woman is surprised (I'd even say shocked) that Jesus asks her for a drink of water—that Jesus even interacts with her. She says, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" and we read that Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans. The message that she was used to was that who she was was not good enough, and there was nothing she could do about it. It's just the way that the world was set up: with her on the outside.

What makes you a "Samaritan"? What are the ways that you feel that you are excluded? We sure have encountered plenty of ways that we exclude ourselves from one another. Perhaps it's that separation of men and women—of gender. Perhaps it's separation based on race or ethnicity or sexuality. Perhaps it's your age: you feel excluded because you're too young, or because you're not young enough anymore. Perhaps it's because you don't live on the right side of the tracks. Perhaps you don't have the right income. Perhaps you're not strong enough or smart enough or healthy enough.

What are all of the things, beyond your control, that define you as being on the outside? What makes you a "Samaritan"? Think of all of them, and then realize the surprising, even shocking, truth that Jesus still comes to meet you at the well.

The surprise that this woman feels in the story actually goes beyond the reality that she is a Samaritan and a woman. As the conversation continues, it becomes clear that there is even more getting in the way and excluding her. There is more that comes not from the reality she was born into, but from the things that have happened during her life up to that point. We learn she has had 5 husbands and lives with one who is not her husband. Some see this as evidence that she was a sinful woman and call her a harlot (or worse), but her history (which is laid bare in the story) may be more about being abandoned and rejected, even mistreated. Jesus describes all of it to her: all of the things that cause her to be convinced that she personally is not worthy to be included—whether it was her own mistakes or harm inflicted by the world around her. Jesus describes it all to her—every bit of who she is. Jesus tells her all about herself.

I invite you to ask yourself today: If Jesus told you about yourself…what would it include? What are all the things about you that would be included? All the hurts, the mistakes, the sin, the shame. What are all the scars that you've picked up along the way that tell the story of who you are? Imagine all of those things, and then hear Jesus describing all of it to you. To hear the stuff identified may bring pain or fear. But as Jesus describes it, you can rest in the truth that Jesus knows you.

The good news of this story is that Jesus knows you—and to be known by Jesus is to be loved by Jesus. Jesus offers living water to you, just as you are, so that a new life—a new identity—can begin within you. The woman recognizes not just who Jesus is, but what Jesus offers: Jesus offers dignity. Jesus invites you to not be defined by your circumstances. Jesus offers you a new identity that lifts you above every other thing that tries to define who you are.

When the woman realizes that Jesus knows her and loves her, she drops everything to go back to the city to find the other Samaritans and tell them about Jesus.

I want to leave you today with two last questions to consider. The first one is Who are your "Samaritans"? Who should hear what Jesus has told you? Who should see what Jesus has shown you? Who should taste what Jesus has given you? Who should feel for themselves the forgiveness that you have received? More importantly, who is it that can now encounter Jesus because you have encountered Jesus? The Samaritan woman goes to other Samaritans. Who are the people that struggle just like you do, that are most likely to meet Jesus through you?

The final question is what does it mean for you to "go to the city"? What does it mean for you to run back to town? Where is God's love for you compelling you to go today? As we experience the good news that God loves us, we are sent out to take that good news with us. We are sent back to town to share it with others just like us, who need to be known and loved—by God and by you. What does it mean for you to "go to the city"?

What's great at the conclusion of this story is that all the woman did was share what she had experienced. She simple shared her own story—God does all the rest.

The other Samaritans who came to believe said to her, "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world." Once they hear for themselves, God does the work. It is not our amazing charm, wit, or sermons that make it happen. God does all the work. We simply tell our story so that others can come to the well and drink the living water for themselves.

Take this story with you today. It is not just the story of one Samaritan woman at a well—it is your story, it is our story. Let this story shape your life so that the story can reach others and bring them the living water that comes from the good news of the gospel. (Amen).