Listen to the Shepherd’s voice and follow to life and joy.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, year C
Text: John 10:22-30; Acts 9:36-43

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Why did the Christians at Joppa send for Peter?

At this point in Acts, Peter was becoming known for being able to heal. But Tabitha was dead.

When Peter came, Luke doesn’t say they asked for anything. Peter went upstairs to pray for her, met many of her friends who were mourning. They showed Peter all the clothes she had made for them, talked about what a wonderful person she was. Nothing was said about raising her.

Now, Luke says that this resurrection became known throughout that city, and “many believed in the Lord” because of it. But if you’re only trusting in Jesus as the Messiah because of Tabitha’s resurrection, that could be a problem.

The Judeans also have a problem of knowing how to trust Jesus.

How long will you keep us in suspense? they ask. Tell us plainly, are you the Messiah?

At this point in John’s Gospel, Jesus has healed, fed thousands, taught many, and become known in the north, in Galilee. But now he’s in Jerusalem, at the Temple. And the Judeans want their own answers. As we heard in Adult Forum last week, there likely was some urban snobbery among the Judeans about rubes from up north in Galilee. So they wanted to know for themselves.

But one chapter earlier, in Jerusalem, Jesus healed a blind man and it caused a stir. A Pharisaic investigation was launched, people were questioned, the man himself was grilled, it was big. They certainly knew of this.

And so Jesus says that words aren’t going to help; he’s already told them who he is and they didn’t trust that. So, he says, look at what I’m doing. You’ve seen for yourself.

But it’s not enough. So, what do they need to trust Jesus? John says he wrote his Gospel so that you, too, could trust that Jesus is the Messiah, God’s Son, and, so trusting, have life in his name. So, their question is also your question: what do you need to trust?

No matter what Luke says, don’t expect Tabitha’s experience.

Sure, lots in the city came to faith because of what Peter did. But Jesus only raised three people from the dead. Later in Acts, Paul will raise someone. Peter never had raised anyone before, and never did again as far as we’re told. It was rare even then. And 2,000 years later, Tabitha is dead now; she’s not walking among us. And all her lovely friends met their deaths without an apostle handy to divert the funeral.

The problem with believing in Christ because of Tabitha’s story is that it’s likely never to happen to you or me. If God thinks such resurrections, or even eye-opening miracles, are what you need to trust Christ, why are they so rare? And if they’re not what God thinks you need, what is?

Jesus tells you today: I’ve shown you all you need.

If you want me as your Shepherd, listen to my voice. Follow me. Then you’ll know. Nothing prevents the people of Jerusalem from becoming Jesus’ sheep except their unwillingness to listen to his voice and follow. And nothing prevents you. You’ve seen what you need to see.

You’ve seen that God in Christ loves you beyond and through your sin and offers you unconditional forgiveness, a life cleansed from guilt and shame. So you don’t need to fear what you’ve been, only boldly be who you are in Christ.

You’ve seen at the cross and empty tomb that God’s love cannot be stopped by death. That not only will you have life in Christ after you die, but countless believers before you have told you that resurrection life is possible now, abundant, rich, fulfilled life following in the way of the cross, the way of Christ. So you have a path right before you, ready for you to walk without fear, to being a kinder, more loving, vulnerable, embodiment of God’s love, and a bringer of God’s healing to this world.

You’ve been fed here at Christ’s forgiveness table, guided here by God’s Word, blessed here by God’s people, and given strength and support.

And you’ve seen that the risen Christ has promised to be with you, so you can ask for your faith to be strengthened, for God’s Spirit to fill you, so you can trust in your Shepherd, even without all the evidence we always seem to want.

And that’s the true joy of Tabitha’s story.

Tabitha was a follower of Christ who changed her world with her love and generosity. She lived in a community that also loved in Christ’s name, made a difference, cared for their neighbors. They had life in Christ that helped them face their fears and live with boldness and courage.

They heard the voice of their Shepherd and followed. And rejoiced in the life of love they had, a life that was all they could think about when their sister died. Peter raising her was an unexpected extra. The joy there is the life of a community of faith that served others and made a difference in the world.

My sheep hear my voice and they follow me, Jesus said.

And nothing can snatch any of my sheep from my hand, nothing.

That’s all you need to know to trust in your Good Shepherd. The One who gives you abundant life here, even in a world of death and fear. Who fills you with the Spirit to transform you and your life into a loving grace and gift for the world. Who holds you always, no matter what, in this life and even through and past the death that awaits us all.

Follow that Voice you know so well, step by step, day by day. Listen, and let the Spirit change you. And in that following you will find joy. And so will everyone who knows you.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

No matter what you think may disqualifies you from the risen life of Christ, God’s not done with you.

Vicar Natalie Wussler
The Third Sunday of Easter, year C
Text: Act 9:1-20; Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This Easter season, we’re reminded that resurrection isn’t just something  Jesus did 2000 years ago and it’s not something that only happens after we die, it’s something we’re called into, today. Resurrection is a daily invitation into a life marked by a love that heals, a justice that restores, a courage that takes risks for our neighbors, and a mercy that transforms us. This is the life that Christ has made possible for us through dying and rising. And yet, we doubt–we doubt if we’re ready or if we’re good enough. We doubt our worth and we doubt if God can really use us. And we worry that our doubts, our fears, and our past mistakes keep us from living out this risen life. And sometimes we’re filled with so much anxiety that we exclude ourselves before giving God’s love and ourselves a chance. And we’re in good company.

Sometimes, we’re like Peter, ashamed and confused. We meet Peter today after he’s denied Jesus but knows he’s risen, and has no clue what to do next. Peter is so caught up in shame that he covers his body when he sees Jesus, like Adam and Eve do in the garden when they meet God, because he feels so exposed and embarrassed by his mistakes. We’ve been there–scared to live as who God has called us to be, ashamed because we didn’t live up to our potential, embarrassed by our mistakes, and anxious about what it all means for our future. 

We’re like Saul, later Paul, who’s confronted by his past of dehumanizing and hurting people. If you’ve ever been woken up to the long error of your ways or pain that you’ve caused people,  you know Saul’s regret. You know his fear that the path he’s walked for so long has led to death and pain. You might know how shocking it is to realize you’ve been going the wrong way, and how scary it is to pick up the pieces and start walking toward a new life.

And we’re like Ananias, called to lay his hands on Saul and heal him, but terrified to do it. He knows Saul’s reputation, he knows Saul was coming to Damascus to kill people like him, and he believes even being in the same room as Saul could mean death for him and his community. He’s feeling the real anxiety that comes when we’re asked to love our enemies, and he resists God’s call. He doubts whether God could actually transform someone from breathing threats of murder to proclaiming the good news of the risen Christ. He’s counted Saul out. And we’ve also had moments of doubt. We’ve been scared about doing what we’re called to and worried that our acts of love are too risky. We’ve counted someone out because of who we believe they are, and we’ve failed to love our enemies.

But even with all their flaws, their messy pasts, their mistakes, and their fears, God still called on Peter, Saul, and Ananias. God still sent them on paths to be leaders of the early church, and to proclaim God’s love and to serve people everywhere. God was not done with them.

And here’s the good news: God’s not done with you–

For all the ways you feel ashamed and for all your past mistakes, God’s not done with you.

For all the things you regret, for all the ways you’ve taken the wrong steps, God’s not done with you

For all the ways you fear or resist taking the next step on this path toward risen life and all the ways you’ve doubted, God’s not done with you.

And God will never be done with you. When you bring God your shame, your fear, and your doubt, God will meet you exactly where you are, ready to offer grace and mercy where you need it, and remind you of the risen life that you’re called into, and nothing will ever change that.

And we’ll mess up. That’s a guarantee. We’ll still fear, we’ll still doubt, we’ll still make mistakes, we might even still hurt people. But our hope is that God is always resurrecting us. Resurrection means that nothing–not death, not failure, not your past regrets, or your fears for the future–has the final word. God’s grace and love do. It’s not about being perfect, it’s about trusting that God’s Holy Spirit is always transforming your heart and mind and sending you to be a part of love’s never-ending work in the world. It’s about trusting that God is still resurrecting us to new life–like Peter was transformed from embarrassed and ashamed to the rock of the early church, or how Saul went from being a persecutor of Christians to spreading Christ’s message throughout the ancient world, or how Ananias went from believing Saul would kill him to calling him brother and praying for him. And even now, this same resurrection lives in you–helping you grow, heal, and become who you’re called to be, one step at a time.  God is always guiding you by the Holy Spirit into new life.

God isn’t waiting for you to be good enough, or faithful enough, or to have the right answers. God is calling on you, now, exactly as you are to tend God’s flock, feed God’s sheep, and follow in Jesus footsteps, to lay hands of healing on the people who need it, to feed hungry people, to love the person who is struggling with their mental health, to come close to the person who’s mourning, to uplift our siblings on the margins. To trust that God will meet you in the moments that feel heavy and hard to bear and encourage you on your journey, whether it’s through a friend who speaks words of healing and hope to you, or through the warm embrace of a community that fills your cup, or through that peace that shows up when it makes no sense, or through that still, small voice that assures you that you’re loved beyond all reason. God is asking you to trust that God knows what God is doing by calling you specifically.

So, beloved, go out knowing that nothing can ever separate you from the God that loves you. Go out trusting that God has called you to be hands of healing, no matter what you’re ashamed of, or scared of, or have doubts about. Serve trusting that God will be with you, resurrecting you to new life everyday, calling you into love’s way, and preparing you for the moment you’re in, exactly as you are. God’s not done with you. God’s just getting started.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

It is in scars that we know God’s love and are God’s love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Easter, year C
Text: John 20:19-31

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Thomas understood all along.

And all he asked for was what his friends already received.

Did you notice? Easter night, when Thomas was gone, Jesus spoke peace to the women and men in the Upper Room. And he showed them his scars, the marks of his wounds. Of course Thomas would want that, too.

Now, Jesus said to Thomas, but also to us, that we are blessed if we come to trust him without seeing as Thomas and the others saw.

But Thomas was right. Even we need to see those scars, somehow. In those beautiful marks made by wounds on the body of the Son of God, we definitively know God’s love. The scars tell you everything.

It’s more than simply confirming it’s Jesus, for them and for us.

Jesus’ scars are the indelible marks of God’s love, God’s willingness to be wounded, killed, to embrace you and all and the whole creation. A wounded God knows the power of love, and rejects the love of power. And that God is the God who loves you and holds you. So when Thomas saw the scarred Jesus, he said, “My Lord and my God.” The scars revealed God to him.

Jesus’ scars also permanently remind you and me and all who follow what love is, what our call is. So many Christians have used the faith to gain power or domination over others. You can’t if you always remember you follow a scarred God who was wounded and killed to show true love. Christ’s scars keep us honest about the point of Christian faith and the path of Christly love we’re called to walk.

These scars also tell you something about your own woundedness.

And we’re not comfortable with our own scars. They remind of past pain we don’t enjoy reliving. Scars on your heart from inner wounds or brokenness, or scars on your body from physical infliction, are signs of past suffering, of frailty and mortality, not something we want to advertise, in case people think less of us.

We can also simply be embarrassed by our scars. Scars inside and outside make you seem different from others. It’s uncomfortable to feel different.

So we unfortunately tend to hide our scars, physical or spiritual. But if you learned to embrace your scars that’s not only a healthy way for you. It could also teach you empathy for others. And your scars might even be a sign to others of hope.

That’s what Jesus’ scars tell you.

You know you can trust God because Jesus’ scars show God is willing to be wounded for your sake and for all and for the world. But your scars and the scars of others also help lead to trust. If those wounds, and the scars left behind, aren’t hidden but embraced, aren’t a source of embarrassment but a source of empathy, scarred people are signs of healing.

It’s a reversal of the common wisdom. We know that those who are harmed in life often harm others in turn. “Hurt people hurt people,” we say. And that’s often true. But it’s also true that hurt people can find healing and empathy and, embracing their hurt, their wounds, their scars, become great healers, people of love and grace.

So if your scars, and the wounds that caused them, can draw you into the heart of love for others, as God’s scars draw you into the heart of God’s love, you will be a blessing in this world. Likewise, if you’re looking for someone who can help you, love you, guide you to healing, look for their scars.

Seeing others’ scars will comfort you – you’ll know you’re not alone.

When you meet someone who can understand your pain because they’ve gone through pain themselves it’s a blessing. Everyone’s suffering is different, but if they’ve been wounded, too, they can be a great comfort to you.

Because you know you’re not alone. When you look into another person’s eyes and see acceptance, love, even sorrow and empathetic tears, you know that there is someone, this one, who has known pain. You’re not the only one. By embracing their scars, they are God’s love to you.

And you could be that comfort to others, if you embrace and learn from your scars.

Seeing others’ scars also gives hope – healing is possible.

When you see someone who loves you and walks with you who not only has been wounded themselves but has the scars to show for it, you can find hope. If they’ve found healing on their path, healing is possible for you. Whenever it happens, however long it takes – it’s always different for everyone.

And if you don’t hide yours you could be that hope to others.

Thomas was right. The beautiful scars of the risen Christ were the sign that God could be trusted.

That even death can’t stop a love willing to lose everything for the sake of another.

Because of those scars, disciples actually became believers, people who trusted that they were still loved completely by God, and that this path of love they’d been trying to follow was still a path of hope and healing for them and for all. That’s why they went out living and proclaiming this love and got wounded, even killed, to share this love and grace of God. They bore their scars and became as beautiful to others as the risen Christ was to them.

Blessed are those who can trust without seeing. That’s true. But we all could use a little of what Thomas wanted. So look for God’s scars and trust they are life for you. Look for the scars in others if you’re looking for someone who can help you in your healing and hope. And let your scars, and the wounds that caused them, lead you to be the empathy, hope, comfort, and healing that those you meet will need.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Our hope in Christ’s resurrection is for this life, too – and brings healing and hope and life to our existence here.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Resurrection of Our Lord, year C
Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Luke 24:1-12

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This the day for hope.

Today we rejoice, we remember, we proclaim, we sing that Christ is risen and death is reversed. Which means all whom we love who have died, all those precious to us who are no longer here, are alive now in Christ. Our grief and sadness is answered today with hope: death is not the final answer. Death, as Paul says today, the last enemy, has been destroyed.

But what if we’re missing something about today? About this resurrection?

Listen to Paul again:

He said to his Corinthian people, “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.” He’s trying to convince them of what we hold dear, that because Christ is risen, they’ll live after they die, too. He wants them to know their hope isn’t just for this life in Christ.

Do you see the difference? Our central hope today, that we have life after death in Jesus’ resurrection, is news to Christians in Corinth a full 20 years after the resurrection itself. And not just in Corinth. Paul’s Thessalonians also need to be taught this hope.

So Paul went throughout Asia Minor and Greece proclaiming the cross and resurrection of Christ, establishing congregations all over the region that lived vital lives of faith and hope, but wasn’t clear with them about life after death.

So where did they find hope at first? What gave life to their faith? Why did people even join?

The men in dazzling clothes said to Mary and the other women this morning, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”

That’s a huge question. The Church has put so much of its proclamation and hope on life after death it’s one of the chief things people criticize about Christianity, especially people who see the damage and hurt Christians have caused. They say that all we care about is getting people to heaven, all we promise is life after death, and nothing else matters. And for centuries it’s been a fair critique. Far too much of our energy has focused solely on life after death: how do you get it? By living a good life? By God’s grace only?

It’s as if we’ve been looking for the living among the dead, saying this was the main thing about today. The early believers got there eventually, but it seems it took them some years to find that hope as well.

So what about Christ’s resurrection changed everything for them? What did they find when they looked for the living Christ among the living, in their life in this world?

Look at those first women and men.

They followed Jesus in his ministry because of his teaching, because he embodied God’s love for them. His welcome, his proclamation of God’s grace and forgiveness, drew them in. His call to living in God’s reign gave them hope. Many dropped everything to follow him. And he almost never talked about life after death.

They found life in Christ here, in their lives, following Jesus. They lived in hard times, too, with oppressive powers ruling and dominating and harming. They had little control over the world, and they saw and knew lots of suffering and pain. But each heard something in Jesus, saw something in Jesus, found something in Jesus, that gave them hope.

Hope that living in God’s love and grace and welcome was a life worth living, even in all the trials of the world. Hope that they, too, could share in God’s Spirit. Hope that love had a strength that could overcome the world. That even enemies would stop being enemies, that forgiveness and restoration was possible. They realized they were part of God’s reign, so they had meaning and purpose in their lives. They could extend God’s welcome, be God’s love for others, as they’d received it. And it would change them. And change others.

So when Jesus was killed, so was their hope.

If the one who said love could change their lives and the world was killed, if his way of rejecting power and violence got him killed, maybe he was wrong. Maybe the powers of the world really are in charge. Maybe there’s nothing to be done. Best keep your head down, lock yourself away at night for protection, and try to stay safe.

But with Jesus alive again, do you see what that meant? The whole life he proclaimed, the love he called them to live, all of it, was validated. They saw that nothing could stop the reign of God, not even evil and violence and wickedness. Not even death. And they found hope again.

Hope is such a powerful thing.

All Jesus’ teachings now made sense again. All that they followed, all they were learning, all that they practiced and sometimes struggled to do, all of it was now theirs again.

And they went out, joined by others like Paul, and proclaimed this reign of God again with their lives. A life in the Spirit of God that transformed them. A life of love for the least and the marginalized, a life of grace and healing one person at a time, a way of love that loses itself for others and so finds everything.

And everywhere they went, people joined in. And their lives were also changed. They too found hope, no matter the circumstances.

We should reverse Paul’s words today.

If we say it this way, we’ll see the truth: “If for the next life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”

Because there’s so much more for you today than just life after death. This is the day of Resurrection. Your resurrection. Mine. The Church’s resurrection. Today we remember that there is hope here. Hope, no matter the circumstances. Hope for the healing of this world.

Because Christ is alive, and death has no power even in this life, in this world. It’s time to look for the living Christ among the living. Christ is here. In you. In me. In the Church. And the love he taught and called you to live will make all the difference in your life. And even in the world.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

You are known and given life in this resurrection, life for this world, life in the next.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Great Vigil of Easter
Text: John 20:1-18

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The voice said “Mary.”

And her world changed again.

Long ago, in the lost days of terror, she didn’t know who she was, couldn’t control her thoughts, wasn’t able to live or function. With so many voices in her head there was no room for her own voice. Then, when she first heard this voice, it called to the depths of her soul and found her. This voice sent away the other voices, brought her to life: that day was birthday.

In the devastating hours since Friday, Mary Magdalene was overwhelmed and lost, all over again. She wasn’t sure she knew herself anymore. The One who knew her, who was God’s love to her, was dead.

Then the voice said, “Mary.”

Listen: your heart is likely not far from Mary’s.

You long to be known for who you really are, and loved. We all do. We fear both might not be possible: if our truths were known how could we be loved? Competing voices inside and outside us devalue us, challenge us, confuse us.

Maybe there have been moments you’ve sensed God knows you, loves you. Maybe others have told you this, have been God’s loving presence to you.

But there are other times. Like these days, when the world is falling apart, thousands of lives destroyed and marginalized for the sake of a few in power. When you fear for your neighbors’ lives and even your own. When you wonder where God is, where hope is.

And there are times you face your own internal pain, fears, worries. When shame and failure embrace you, and seem more real than God to you. Dark nights of the soul when you doubt God could love you. When you know nothing except that you feel alone.

But you came here tonight, and waited in the darkness.

Maybe you don’t know why. But then, almost like a miracle, a fire leapt up, and a candle bore a light. And that one flame, one solitary candle, divided and divided and divided but in truth multiplied and multiplied and multiplied. And filled this room with a glow of hope.

And in that light you saw faces, the people of the risen Christ, who said to you, as they lighted your own candle, “The Light of Christ.” The faces of people who know you by name, love you. People who will soon greet you again with “Peace be with you.” In those faces, you saw the face of Christ. And you were no longer alone or in the dark.

And then you heard words of hope in God’s salvation from Scripture, ancient words of a glorious creation, a daring sea rescue, an astonishing protection of people in the heart of a fire. You were invited by God’s Wisdom to be filled to the brim with God’s love and grace and healing that is yours through the Spirit.

And you heard once again, with Mary, that God’s love cannot be stopped even by death. A voice familiar to you came through the locked doors of your heart, and, risen from the dead, now stands beside you at the gravestones of your life. Offers you food for life in this bread and wine. Christ’s voice calls you by name here. Knows you.

Jesus called her “Mary.”

That’s when she knew. So it is for you and me this holy night.

We face many hard things, and we fear most of them. But Christ has faced them all – suffering, betrayal, loneliness, sadness, abandonment, pain, death. And none of them have any power over the risen Christ, over the love of the God who breaks death, who calls you by name, who knows you, who loves you.

Listen . . . nothing, nothing, can separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not this life, not death. Not your past. Not the present, not the future. Nothing.

So you don’t need to be afraid. This day is birthday for you, the day you come back to life.

And now all that remains is to be Mary. Go and tell others, and show them, by your love and grace and hope, that God’s life is still in this world and in them and in you. So they know they are known and loved by God always. And so this world can begin to be healed.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen