Sermons

That’s the challenge, and here's the question it poses. When basketball players levitate, and acrobats tight-rope tall buildings, and blind persons find sight, and God somehow stirs inside each of us, will our belief extend only as far as our neighbor’s skepticism?  Or will we embrace the unexplainable, and believe what we have seen for ourselves?  And in a single moment, will we let God transcend our need to be right, our need to know everything, our need to say, “We told you so.”

This isn’t THE story of Resurrection, but it’s got a resurrecting quality. You see, so often, I find myself occupied with how something new birthed within me might bring some balm to a broken world. How might I of Jerusalem, help heal you of Samaria. When all the all while, a reciprocal quality exists: They of Samaria are also healers of me of Jerusalem. Lord, give us the courage to seek water in noonday heat, to make friends with unlikely conversation partners, to worship on different mountains, to glean new wisdom together, and to experience the One who will set it all straight, not just THEN, but right NOW, too.

To read John’s gospel is to engage in a faithful process.  To read John’s gospel is to hear confirmation that Jesus lived and dwelled and still lives and dwells among us.  To read John’s gospel is to hear how the story transformed and still transforms the lives of others.  And to read John’s gospel is to place ourselves into the story, to be people who experience the presence of God.

This is today’s good news. Jesus is still at our tables. And the love of Jesus is still palpable.  And whether we are floundering in the desert, or lost in a proof text, or even experiencing our first caffeine headache brought on by Lenten adventures; Jesus is waiting for us there.  Jesus is there to tell us that when we come to tables, we needn’t seek power; we needn’t demonstrate the miraculous; we needn’t worry about our status; or hoard the crumbs of our manna.  Because Christ’s Table, God’s table is enough.  It’s big enough for every person, and every experience. and every season. 

Because here’s the truth: God transfigures, y’all. God reminds us to listen. And God resurrects, y’all. God makes new life out of tired seasons. And God’s future, Christ’s return is certain, no matter how foggy we are on the details or the timing. In the coming Lenten season, as we fumble with dim candles in darkness, may we experience Spirit-filled prophecies that allow the morning star, the light-bearer, to arise within our hearts. And may we experience God’s transfiguration, resurrection, and future for ourselves.

God is unbounded. Every created being exudes the beauty and possibility of God. Language, expression, and worship that does not reflect the depth of this scope is an injustice and an affront to all we hold dear. God cannot be love, God cannot be reflected in all of us, if God is reduced to a white, warrior, king, subservient to broken systems. When we refuse to be intentional in our language, whether consciously or not, we darken the light of others, and we sully the salt of others.