Dragging our Feet in the Sand

Sermon 3-18-18

Grace and peace to you from God our creator and from our Lord and savior Jesus the Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit, amen.

 You all are familiar with the “Footprints in the Sand” poem, right? A man has a dream that he was walking along a beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashes scenes from his life, and most of the time there are two sets of footprints. But after the last scene ended, the man looked back on the beach and saw that sometimes there was only one set of footprints, and they happened to coincide with the very lowest and saddest times in his life. The man was understandably upset that it was at THESE dark times that the Lord seem to abandon him.

The Lord replies to this man, “My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During those times…. when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

For some of us, this poem is our reality.  Some of us at times have been so overwhelmed with these lowest and saddest times that we cannot take even take one more step forward, and the only way we make it through each day is to be carried by God.

But at other times, our walk with the Lord may leave behind a different kind of trail in the sand.

Read this version closely.... 

I once found an alternative take on the footprints poem in a funny comic on Facebook…. In the first panel, God has his arm around the dreamer and says the familiar words, “…where you see one set of footprints is where I carried you.” But there is an alternative ending, where God points off in the distance and says, “Now, THAT long groove is where I DRAGGED you, kicking and screaming.”

Jesus makes a lot of promises to us, including to never leave us. Where Jesus is, we are there, as he says in verse 26. And this does indeed bring us a great deal of comfort when our lives are challenging. However, the first part of that verse reads “whoever serves me must follow me…” and sometimes where Jesus goes are not places that I am exactly eager to be.

After all, Jesus and I don’t exactly have the same taste in hang-out spots. 

From the last few weeks in Lent, we can get an idea of what kinds of places Jesus likes to frequent:

The wilderness with the wild beasts, being tempted by Satan.

With his disciples, talking about crosses, death, and self-denial.

In the temple, trashing the booths of the money changers and chasing out their animals with whips.

In late night conversations with Nicodemus, foreshadowing his own death.

And today - hanging out with people on the outside, chatting with God through thunder, and YET AGAIN speaking of his own death.

Hmm. No thanks, Jesus. I’ll catch up with you the next Lent.

Even after all this, the late-night conversations and the cleansing of the temple, the Greeks in our Gospel reading were still drawn to Jesus. As Jesus said, “I will draw all people to myself.” But the drawing that Jesus is doing here has less to do with nice things like crayons, or magnets being drawn to one another, or being drawn to someone through love at first sight … it has more to do with dragging heavy nets full of fish across the sand.  The word that Jesus uses here also describes how fishermen “draw,” or rather, drag, pull, or heave these heavy nets onto the beach. Probably leaving behind them a long groove in the sand.

Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised when following Jesus looks more like a long groove than footprints in the sand.

Like the Greeks, we may THINK we want to see Jesus… but do we really? Seeing Jesus is seeing the cross. Seeing Jesus means following him TO the cross, to suffering, humiliation, and death. The cross is not a place anyone in their right mind would want any part of. And yet, that is exactly where Jesus calls us. To deny ourselves and take up our cross.  To lose our own lives for the sake of Jesus and the good news. To die to our selves for the sake of our neighbors. To be buried in the earth like seeds so that we may bear fruit.

This is not exactly a journey where we are keen to go on... even if we know that, because of Jesus, there is resurrection on the other side. Jesus WANTS us to be with him, because he loves us and desires that we would not perish, but have life…. Eternal and abundant life. And that is only possible if we go where Jesus leads us.

This is really, really hard though. It’s going to involve change, loss of the familiar, and new experiences, and not being able to clearly see the path we are traveling sometimes. It’s going to involve trusting Jesus to lead us through some unexplored territory. This is really scary, so too often we dig in our heels and try to stay put.

Much like my cats tried to do during one of my many moves with them over the years. By now, they have been through quite a few moves with me…. But once, early on, I hadn’t quite worked out all the kinks. Everything was all packed up at my new place. I marveled at the wisdom of my plan of leaving the cats until very last. You can probably see where this is going.

Can't stay mad at this face for long...

As I put one cat in the carrier, my other cat dug her claws in, to let me know SHE DID NOT WANT TO GO…. And her claws left a long bloody grove down my pinky finger. Great. I got her in the carrier, but I’m bleeding from a pretty decent cut, and naturally I had left all the bandages at the new place!! Fortunately, I found a spare tissue to wrap around my hand … and now I can laugh about the time that I drove to my new apartment, angry cats in the back seat, with a bloody pinkie up in the air.

My cat was scared and didn't know where we were going. She didn’t yet understand that we were going to a new home … together. I didn’t want to leave her behind, because she is part of my family. But she wasn’t happy about it… and her long groove of protest intersected with my hand. But I was willing to risk her claws and losing a little blood - if that’s what it took to bring her home with me.

Jesus refuses to leave us behind. He thought that facing our claws, our dragging feet, our reluctance to the point of turning our back on him, was worth it – that WE are worth it. Jesus stops at nothing to draw all people in to God’s family. Even if that meant that we would rather betray, deny, abandon, or even crucify Jesus rather than follow him.

But God has a way of making crosses and tombs empty. God has a way of turning death into life. God has a way of even making our long grooves in the sand into something that God can use for good.

If you grew up on a farm like I did, or with someone in the family who gardened, you know what a long, straight groove – or furrow - in the ground is perfect for: Planting a row of seeds.

Like the cross, a seed is a vehicle for life. By itself, a seed looks dead and lifeless, but once it is buried in the earth, it can become what it was created to be – to burst open and bring forth new life, many times over.

We may not know yet exactly what kind of seed we will be – but we know the One who has planted us here in this place at this time. It is the same God who gathers us together every week to sustain us with the body and blood of his son Jesus… only to send us out again into the world. It is the same God who will not leave us behind. It is the same God who commands us not to leave OTHERS behind. We are drawn in and welcomed to God’s table of love, and we in turn help in the work in drawing in others too…. there is a place for ALL here with Jesus. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Doubting Disciples Sunday (BTW, that's us.)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our crucified and risen Lord and savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

I still remember the April fool’s joke I played on my poor Mom one year, while I was on internship in Minnesota. I called her up and left her a message that one of my cats had surprised us all by having a litter of adorable calico kittens, that looked just like her. And my mom totally bought it.

"Not funny, 'Mom'."

And that isn’t even the funniest part. My Mom had completely forgotten that I had called her about taking Patches to the vet… to be fixed… earlier that week. I told her all about how funny the cat looked after being shaved, and about how I had to watch her for a few hours after while she was still a bit loopy from the anesthetic. All just the week before. How soon my Mom forgot!

But, to be fair, she hasn’t forgotten that story since then. When I asked her permission to share it, my mom told me she still has the voicemail I left her about it. This was back in 2010.

I can’t rub it in TOO much, because we’ve all been there, though, including me. How soon we can all forget what we have just seen and heard.

It is one week after Easter. It’s only been one week since we heard the account from Luke of the women finding an empty tomb where they expected to find the body of Jesus. It’s only been one week since we stood around in the memorial garden, rubbing our hands together in the early light of dawn, busting out the first “He is risens” and “alleluias.” It’s only been one week since the kids waved the Alleluia sheets in this place newly adorned in white and lilies, while Mike cranked the Easter hymns on organ up to 11. That was only one week ago, people. But how soon we forget what we’ve seen and heard.

I don’t know about you, but I feel like it’s been an entire month since Easter. Probably because after Easter, I still had to go grocery shopping, pay the rent, figure out life, and deal with a world that seems to get scarier by the day.

But the world out there is perhaps is not as scary as we might think it is. Trying to figure out what to do with this whole resurrection thing – now THAT is actually a whole lot scarier. Because that means I actually have to leave the tomb. And I for one kind of like it here. It’s darkness is familiar to me, and I don’t really like change. And I’m SURE I’m the only one here that applies to. In some ways, Lent may feel more natural to us, or at least closer to our real-life experiences – wandering around in the wilderness, waiting in the in-between, longing for a life that has been promised, but perhaps hasn’t yet arrived.

But what has been promised to us HAS ALREADY COME. One week ago. Lent is OVER, and Easter is HERE. All seven weeks of it. That’s right folks. We have six more weeks of the Easter season left to go, six more weeks until the Holy Spirit arrives at Pentecost, six more weeks to figure out what in the world does it mean for us to be called out of our tombs by our resurrected Lord who bears the scars of death on his body. And THAT, my friends, scares me to death.

But perhaps if I had actually been there. Perhaps if I had actually seen what had happened, this resurrection business might be a little easier to wrap my head around. Don’t you think that might be true for you as well?

It seems that it might have been the case for Thomas. Poor, poor, Thomas, forever to be saddled with the nickname “doubting.” He gets such a bad reputation. We can’t really blame him for his reaction to the other 10 disciples. If I were him, I might think that the rest of them were playing some cruel version of an April Fool’s joke concocted while I was out.

But I want to make the case that Thomas is not actually the most egregious doubter in this resurrection account. The true doubters are the other 10 disciples.

Earlier that day, according to the gospel of John, Mary Magdalene had gone to the tomb of Jesus, only to find the stone rolled away. And later, after Peter and the other disciple had corroborated her story and went home, Mary encountered the risen Jesus while she was still weeping outside the tomb. Their Lord was alive! He had risen from the dead! And what do you think happened next? Did they start running around, telling people the good news? NOPE. On Easter evening, they locked themselves in a room. How soon they had forgotten what they had seen and heard.

And so that is where Jesus found them, when they were all together, except for Thomas, locked in a room out of fear. That is where Jesus found them, when he burst INTO their locked room, just has he had burst OUT of the tomb.

But that in itself does not make them into doubters “worse” than Thomas.  It is instead what they do next. After other ten disciples saw Jesus for themselves, a week later - one week after Easter – where did Jesus find them? Take a look in verse 26. Again they were in the house. And again THE DOORS WHERE SHUT. Yet again, they were sealed up in their old familiar tombs out of fear. And so Jesus had to bust in YET AGAIN.

How soon they had forgotten what they had seen and heard… only one week before.

So really, this day would more accurately be called “Doubting Disciples” Sunday. And the accusing finger is also pointed right at us. Because really, WE would be right there along with them, barring the door and bolting the locks, just one week after Easter.

Not just to keep the scary world OUT. But perhaps to keep Jesus out as well.

Because our locked rooms and our dark tombs are comfortable and familiar. Resurrection and new life means that change is a-comin’, which is super scary.

But we have seen and heard what Jesus does with sealed tombs and locked doors. We have seen and heard what Jesus does with the bonds of sin, with the sting of death, and the captivity of the grave. So let’s not forget so soon what we have seen and heard.

The Good News of Easter, which is just as true today as it was a week ago, is that Jesus has busted open the stone of your tomb like it as if it were nothing; he has ploughed through the doors of your locked rooms as if they were butter. He stands in the doorway, reaching out to take your hand, showing you the marks of the crucifixion that still remain his body. And he calls you, as he did to Lazarus, while standing outside of that dead man’s tomb, calling to him, “Lazarus, come out!”

And Lazarus came out of his tomb.

Jesus says, “Peace be with you,” and then calls us forth like Lazarus. Come out of the tomb. Come out of the locked room. Now, it’s time to leave.

It’s time to leave, because we do not belong in dark tombs and locked rooms. It’s time to leave, because we are being drawn out to the new life that is not IN HERE, but OUT THERE. It’s time to leave, because the one who calls us out has also been marked by the scars of death, as we all have in our various ways.

Fortunately Peter, our favorite open-mouth-insert-foot disciple, and the rest of the apostles DO eventually get out of the locked room. In Acts, Peter testifies before the high priest about Jesus, saying “We are witnesses to these things.” Because it was time to leave the locked room. It was time to get out, and be sent out.

As God has sent Jesus, so Jesus sent Peter, Thomas, Mary, the other women, and the rest of the apostles to live in light of the resurrection, to leave the locked room, and to remember what they had seen and heard. And as God sent Jesus, so Jesus sends all of US to do the same. To share what WE’VE seen and heard. To, in the words of Farmer-Poet Wendell Barry, to “practice resurrection.” To be like Jesus and call others out from THEIR dark tombs and locked rooms.

Walking through walls optional.

Amen.

                      

How our cat taught me the meaning of "Footprints in the Sand"

Sermon 3-22-15

Grace and peace to you from God our father and from our Lord and savior Jesus the Christ. Amen.
You all know that poem. You've seen it countless times before – on posters, mugs, T-shirts, bible covers – on the backdrop of gentle waves on a pristine beach, with or without optional sunset… all beautifully framing a trail of footprints in the sand.

You probably remember the basics – man has a dream that he was walking along a beach with the Lord. Across the sky flashes scenes from his life, and for each scene he notices two sets of footprints in the sand – one for him and one for the Lord. But after the last scene had flashed before him, he looked back on the beach and saw that sometimes there was only one set of footprints, and they happened to coincide with the very lowest and saddest times in his life.

According to one version, the man said, “Lord, you said that once I decided to follow you, you’d walk with me all the way. But I have noticed that during the most troubling times of my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed you the most, you would leave me."

The Lord replied, “My precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

For some of us, this poem is our reality.  Some of us at times have been so overwhelmed with these lowest and saddest times in our lives that we cannot take even just one more step forward. Sometimes we experiences trials and sufferings so great that they leave us completely spent. It is then that our Lord does scoop us up in his arms and carry us through to another day.

Whether you love this poem or not, it does remind us of Jesus’s promise, of how much he loves us and would never leave us. It reminds us of the promise that as we walk through life, where we are, there Jesus is also.

But at other times, our walk with the Lord may look a little different. It can leave behind a different kind of trail in the sand.

The mentioned comic from Facebook.

A few weeks ago I found a slightly different take on the footprints poem. In the first panel, a bearded man portraying God has his arm around the person having the dream. God says, “…where you see one set of footprints is where I carried, you.”

But on the second panel, God is pointing off in the distance and says, “…THAT long groove is where I DRAGGED you, kicking and screaming.”

Remember, Jesus promises us that where HE is this followers and servants are too. Where I am, Jesus is. And this does indeed bring us a great deal of comfort when we undergo pain and trials. But that also means that where JESUS is, there I am, too. And that is an entirely different kind of promise altogether.

You see, I’m not sure Jesus and I have the same taste is places where we can be found. I like to be at church, drinking coffee at Starbucks, or asleep in my bed. But where does Jesus like to hang out? Just from the last few weeks in Lent, we can get an idea of what kinds of places he likes to frequent:
The wilderness with the wild beasts, being tempted by Satan.

With his disciples, talking about crosses, death, and self-denial.

In the temple, trashing the booths of the money changers and chasing out their animals with whips.
In late night conversations with Nicodemus, comparing himself with the bronze serpent on a pole, foreshadowing his own death.

Hanging out with Greeks – ethnic outsiders – chatting with God through thunder, and YET AGAIN speaking of his own death.

And Jesus does not pull any punches for their sakes. He gave them his message, un-deluded. Seeing Jesus is seeing death. Seeing Jesus is seeing the cross. Seeing Jesus means following him to the cross, to suffering, humiliation, and death.

The cross is not a place anyone in their right mind would want any part of. And yet, that is exactly where Jesus calls us. To deny ourselves and take up our cross.  To love light and not darkness. To lose our own lives for the sake of Jesus and the good news. To be driven into the wilderness. To proclaim the kingdom of God come near.

Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised when following Jesus looks more like a long groove than footprints in the sand.

The Greeks were drawn to Jesus. And at some point, you were drawn to him too. As Jesus said, “I will draw all people to myself.” The true meaning of this word we read as draw actually has more to do with fish. It’s a word that is used to describe what fishermen do when their nets are full to bulging once they get to shore. They “draw,” or rather, drag, haul, pull, heave these heavy nets onto the beach. Probably leaving behind them a long groove in the sand
.
Where Jesus is, there we are, also. Even if sometimes we have to be dragged, kicking and screaming. Even if it means Jesus is calling us to new life, which can, at times, be very scary, and make us want to dig in our heels.

When Beau and I first moved to New Jersey, we had to bring our cats with us. They are part of our family, and where we live, they were going to live. Even if that meant knocking them out for a good portion of the twenty hour car ride here.

A year and a half ago, when we moved to Trenton, it was the same story: they were going to be coming with us, whether they liked it or not. This time, no “calming spray,” though, in hindsight we should have known better. Everything was packed up and had been moved over to our new place… except for the cats. They were the last thing on the list. No problem, right?

"I'm sorry! I love the new place!"

Wrong! As I put the second cat in the carrier, she decided to share with me how anxious she was about the move by using her back claws to scratch up my pinkie. Great. So I got her in the carrier with her brother, but I’m bleeding, and all the bandages are packed up at the new place. So I find a napkin and drive into Trenton like I’m having a tea party with a bloody napkin. Yes, I am able to laugh about it now.


But I understand. The cat didn't know where we were going and she was scared. She didn't know that we were taking her with us so she wouldn't be left behind. So her long groove in the sand and my hand happened to intersect. But it didn't matter, because they were coming with us, whether they liked it or not.

Perhaps some might say, half-joking, that they might have known what they were in for. Animals are smart. They can sense things like earthquakes and storms before they happen. Perhaps they already knew that Trenton is not a place people usually move TOWARD. Everybody knows that Trenton is a place of darkness. Everybody knows Trenton is a place of suffering and desperation. Everyone knows that Trenton is a place of death.

Last Thursday my husband Beau lead a service of remembrance for a homeless man. As Beau was speaking about how God is a God of many second, third, fourth, and fifth chances, one of the homeless friends of the dead man spoke up. He ask about the criminal crucified with Jesus asking for forgiveness just before Beau was going to read that very passage.

Where there is darkness, that is where Jesus is. Where there is suffering and desperation, that is where Jesus is. Where there is death. THAT is WHERE JESUS IS. And that is where we are to be, too.

Jesus went before us so that we could follow – to the cross, to death, and to the tomb. Jesus went before us so that we could follow also when the cross was empty, the tomb was empty, and when death was emptied of its power. His cross of death became our tree of life. Some days we walk, and some days we have to be dragged. But whether we walk, run, fall, or are dragged, the promise remains. Where you are, Jesus is. Where Jesus is, you are. Amen.

Hanging Gardens of Nelson

Our balcony garden is making excellent progress! I've harvested a few green beans already, and some of the snap peas are getting close. I've learned a few things along this journey of suburban gardening, like how to keep squirrels from digging in my plants (sprinkle some chili or curry powder on the dirt) and that green bean stalks will fall over and break with the weight if not propped up (extra wooden disposable chopsticks work well). Here is how much progress has been made in the last few weeks:

These were taken in the middle of May.

This is how it looks today: 

Fantastic, huh?

And here are our kitties, enjoying the nice weather and birds from a sunny window: