God needs to crack your heart – the center of all you are – open, and pour God’s word of love inside; then everything is transformed.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: Acts 16:9-15; John 14:23-29

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

Consider a new sidewalk, six inches thick, six feet wide, a stream of solid concrete running the length of a block.

There’s no green; whatever warm earth was there is covered up by cold, hard, walking surface. But during the winter the earth resists, heaves, and a tiny crack is made. A seed falls into that crack. In spring, against all odds, a plant rises from the midst of that barrenness, eventually breaking it. Life happens. Green reaches to the sun.

That’s what God did to Lydia on the banks of the river. Luke says God “opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.”

God opened her heart. Now, the ancients understood this better than we do. We divide heart from head, often pitting them against each other. For the Greeks, the heart was the center of your being, where everything – mind, spirit, emotions, thoughts – dwelt. God opened Lydia up at her very center, to make her eager to hear Paul.

That means this conversation with Paul wasn’t merely a question of convincing Lydia’s mind; her whole being was opened to hear. Her mind, her feelings, her desires, her hopes, everything that made Lydia Lydia was opened to hear about Christ and the Good News of God’s love.

There is a Hasidic story that speaks of this.

“The disciple asks the rabbi, ‘Why does Torah tell us to “place these words upon your hearts”? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?’ The rabbi answers, ‘It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in.’”^[1]

If we stop separating heart from head, stop acting as if we are divided beings instead of the unified, beloved children of God that we are, we can understand the rabbi. Whether it’s a closed mind, or a closed-off love, we know what it is to be resistant to God’s Word.

We need God to break open our hearts – sometimes through suffering, sometimes through compassion, sometimes through confusion, sometimes through insight; there are many ways God does this – and open us up to eagerly hear what Christ is calling to us.

We need God to break us open like Lydia so God’s Word of grace and life and love falls into our hearts. When that happens, when we are broken open and God’s Word drops in, when we realize we follow a vulnerable God, whose own heart was broken open for the world, whose very woundedness heals the universe, we grow into people willing to be broken open for the sake of the world.

And when God does this, everything changes. Healing begins. Our lives are transformed.

Look at Lydia. She’s an outsider, a “God-worshipper,” someone who’s found hope in the God of Israel, but isn’t yet Jewish. Together with other women – probably both Jewish women and God-worshippers like Lydia – she comes to the river to pray because as women they aren’t considered part of the synagogue, they didn’t count, and weren’t welcome to pray there. God has already opened her heart to know God through these other women, and now as Paul and his companions come, God opens her even more.

And see what she becomes: this story is the birth of the Philippian congregation, and Lydia almost certainly is the head of that congregation. The congregation Paul loves so much, whose letter is still beloved to us, all this rises from Lydia’s openness. From her heart, her being, cracked open by God, the life in Christ that grows from there.

This is the transformation we saw with Peter and Paul last week, too.

Their whole beings were cracked open by God in Christ to see things differently, to center their lives on following the Spirit of God, wherever the Spirit led. Jews and non-Jews, all were loved by God in Christ, they learned. And Christ’s mission exploded across the Mediterranean world.

Even today, Paul’s center, Paul’s heart is broken open again. This wasn’t a head decision to go to the women gathered by the river. There’s no strategic advantage in that culture for Paul to convert women. He could have, as he often did, just gone to the synagogue. But he goes here, is opened to these women, and God makes a new congregation that becomes a source of deep love and grace for Paul in his later imprisonment.

You can’t know what your transformation will be like until you’re open to God doing it at all.

So today pray for these two things: first, that Christ give you the peace he promises the disciples today, a harmony that will bring your whole being – mental, spiritual, emotional, physical – into one center, one heart.

And then pray that God crack open that center, that heart, breaking through both your rational and your emotional objections, anything that is closed off, so you can, like Lydia, “eagerly hear” what Christ is calling to you. The breaking of your heart will hurt. Vulnerability isn’t always fun. Having all your defenses knocked down and your protections moved aside will be frightening. But the opening made in your heart will allow God’s Word of life and love, sitting on the outside, to fall through the cracks into your center and start to grow and blossom.

Lydia had the right idea: let’s find a beautiful place, maybe by a river, maybe in this room, and pray together. And God will make an opening for the Word to flourish in you, for your healing, and the healing of all things.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] Jacob Needleman, as told to Parker Palmer, and related by Palmer in “The Broken-Open Heart: Living with Faith and Hope in the Tragic Gap,” Weavings XXIV:2, May/June 2009.

 

When Christ calls us to follow, when the Spirit fills us to serve as Christ, God is always on the move, leading us to unfamiliar and sometimes challenging places, but always so God’s love is known by all.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fifth Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: Acts 11:1-18; John 13:31-35

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

Do you realize Jesus is usually on the move when he says “Follow me?”

Sometimes he stops for a moment, often for a meal. Whether it’s a large picnic on a Galilean slope or breakfast on the beach, sometimes Jesus sits still.

But then he’s on his way. “Follow me,” he says to Nathanael, and heads off. “Follow me,” he says to the brothers fishing, and he’s moving up the shore. “Follow me,” he says to Matthew at his tax booth, and Matthew has to move quickly not to lose him in the crowd.

Jesus’ ministry was one of movement, trying to get to as many people and as many places as he could. “Follow me” meant, keep up, we’re going.

And after Pentecost, the newborn Church realized following the Spirit was going to be the same.

Acts is the story of the Church trying to keep up with the Holy Spirit.

At first, they’re all gathered together, ten days after Jesus ascended. He did tell them to stay in the city until they received power from on high, but it was also pretty easy for them to stick together, inside.

Then came the Holy Spirit, with the sound of a roaring wind, pouring fire into their hearts, into their limbs, into their very voices, and they were on the move. Going outside and preaching to representatives of nearly every people on earth. Baptizing thousands, establishing a community of mutual love, preaching God’s raising of the Christ: the Spirit moved and the Church went along.

When Christ caught Paul on the Damascus road, in only a couple days he was sent out to witness. When the Christian community in Jerusalem grew large enough some people were missing out on food, the Spirit raised up deacons to organize Christ’s ministry of loving each other. When an Ethiopian eunuch struggled to understand Scripture on his journey, the Spirit literally carried Philip to where he was needed.

There’s no sitting around when God is out and about. If you’re called to follow, get ready to move.

But, as with Jesus, the Spirit usually leads the Church into challenging places.

Today Peter faces angry criticism in Jerusalem for eating and drinking with Gentiles while up north in Joppa. Peter moved outside the boundary of what is acceptable to those faithful to the God of Abraham, and his fellow Jewish Christian believers want an answer.

This particular movement of the Spirit is so important to Luke, he tells the story twice. In Acts 10, he narrates the story of the Roman centurion Cornelius, his vision sent by God that he should seek for Peter, and Peter’s vision of the lowered sheet of animals. And the most astonishing part: while Peter’s proclaiming to Cornelius and other Gentiles about Jesus’ teaching, death, and resurrection, the Holy Spirit pours out on them exactly as at Pentecost. These Gentiles start speaking in tongues and praising God, just as Peter and his companions had experienced.

Today we hear the same story in the next chapter, Peter’s telling of it. Luke wants his readers to clearly understand this sequence of events: God called to Gentiles, sent them to Peter, gave Peter a vision saying this was acceptable, and then, as Peter proclaimed Christ Jesus, God’s Spirit poured into them.

This is all God’s doing, Luke says. And Peter wisely recognizes it. “Who was I to hinder God?” he says. The Holy Spirit was already there. Of course I baptized them. Of course I ate with them.

That’s the problem with a moving God. You can’t control where God moves.

The Jerusalem believers comfortably sat in their city, proclaiming Jesus to Jewish people, rejoicing in the Spirit’s blessing of their ministry. Things were going well, nothing threatened their faith practices.

But that comfort is ending. Peter, the leader of the original twelve, has crossed a line, claiming to follow God. Paul, the persecutor turned apostle, has gone off to Asia Minor believing the Spirit has led him to embrace Gentiles into the body of Christ, without circumcision and food restrictions.

As long as the Spirit was going on familiar roads, following comforting rules, doing things that felt right, following was fun. But now this seems too far.

To their credit, in a few chapters they’ll have a conference in Jerusalem where they prayed to the Spirit and approved the mission to the Gentiles, with a few restrictions.

But it wasn’t up to them where God would make the body of Christ. It wasn’t their conference decision that moved the Gospel to the whole world. The Gospel was already there, already moving, carried by the Spirit to every corner of the earth. Remember: both Easter and Pentecost happened during major Jewish festivals, with Jerusalem full of international visitors. Twice, huge numbers of people went back to their faraway homes and told what they had seen God do in Jerusalem. The Spirit always meant for this. But now the Jerusalem believers realized the impact on their lives.

We could learn from their experience ourselves.

We hear Christ call “follow me” in our seats. We love to sit and talk about what that means, chat about the limits and challenges to following. Like the Jerusalem church, we assume we have control over God’s work as we gather in congregational meetings and in synods and in churchwide assemblies to decide the mission we will do.

But our only mission is to look up and see where the Spirit is already going, and either follow or quit. We often pick on Peter’s stumbling, but after Pentecost he followed only one path, the path where he saw the Spirit leading. Whether it’s in a trial, or in jail, or watching uncircumcised Gentiles aglow with the Spirit speaking in tongues, Peter has the wisdom to say, “I’m not getting in God’s way. I’ll go there, too.”

Our challenge is to see the new places, even the hard places, the Spirit is leading us.

Here at Mount Olive we can get a little full of ourselves. We think we’re loving, progressive, welcoming, and Christly, and sometimes we are. We all could make long lists of Christians we think haven’t heard Christ’s message to love and welcome all, Christians we wish didn’t call themselves that.

But we are not the epitome of what Jesus had in mind when he ascended into heaven. Whether it’s our latent racism we really don’t want to admit, or our participation in systems that crush and oppress, or our instinctive sexism that subtly affects how we look at women and men in general, and in leadership, even if we deny it, the Spirit is moving to places we’re often not ready to follow.

We need the Holy Spirit to awaken our vision to see these new paths and give us courage to follow. It’s too easy to be complacent, saying, “Things are going well, we see God everywhere, and what’s great is we don’t have to change anything hard about ourselves.” But that’s not how the Spirit works.

So please, pray about where God’s Spirit is leading you that you’re not ready to go. Jesus commands you to love as he loves, the only commandment that means anything to Jesus. That’s where the Spirit is leading you. Ask the Spirit to show you those whom you don’t love, so you can learn to love them, go where the Spirit already is, even if it’s challenging.

And together, let us pray, because the Spirit isn’t just calling individuals to follow.

We are called as a community by the Holy Spirit to go and love as Christ loves, to keep up with where the Spirit is blowing, to find those the Spirit has already blessed and rejoice with them. We can’t sit back thinking we’ve got this Christian community thing solved. Cornelius is looking to hear of Christ from us, there are outsiders, even some we don’t like, whom the Spirit needs us to love and proclaim Christ with our lives.

Peter shows us it’s not complicated, just keep your eyes and ears and heart open to where the Spirit is moving. But be ready for moving. Following means getting on the road and, well, following.

But following God’s Spirit means the Spirit is always with us on the road, giving courage and strength to go to these new places. We’re not alone, so all will be well. But it’s time to get moving and follow.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

What do you need from the Messiah? Christ has shown you all you need to know; now listen to the Shepherd’s voice and follow to life.

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

Sisters and brothers 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 already dead.

When Peter came, Luke doesn’t say they asked anything. He went upstairs to pray for her, met many of her friends who were mourning. They showed Peter all the clothes she had made, talked about what a wonderful person she was. Maybe they just wanted him for the funeral, for spiritual support. Maybe she was his friend. We’ll never know.

But what he did is challenging for us. Luke says that this raising became known throughout that city, and “many believed in the Lord” because of it. But if you’re trusting in Jesus as the Messiah because of Tabitha’s resurrection, that could be a problem.

And what did Jesus’ questioners want from from him?

At this point in John’s Gospel, he’s done healings, fed thousands, and become known in the north, in Galilee. He’s now in Jerusalem, at the Temple, not in the north. It’s a small country, maybe they heard of him.

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. So they want a clear answer: Don’t keep us in suspense. Tell us plainly, are you the Messiah?

Jesus says: I’ve told you already, and you didn’t trust me. You’ve seen all I do, and that proves where I’m from, and who my Father is, and you still don’t trust me.

He’s right. So, what do they need from him? It’s the central question for all who meet Jesus. John says he wrote his Gospel so that you, too, could believe Jesus is the Messiah, God’s Son, and, believing, have life in his name. Their question is your question: what do you need from your Messiah to believe in him?

You’d better not need Tabitha’s experience.

The Joppa Christians likely didn’t expect Peter to do what he did. People today say things like, “Raising of the dead never happens like that anymore, like it used to.” But it didn’t happen much then, either. 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.

It’s wonderful she was raised. But she’s dead now; she isn’t still walking among us. And all her lovely friends, the widows Luke speaks of, 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 such resurrections, or even eye-opening miracles, are God’s plan for what you need to trust Christ, why are they so rare? And if they’re not what God thinks you need, what is? What do you need from your Messiah, your Good Shepherd, to trust him?

I asked this at our Tuesday noon Bible study this week.

Your fellow congregants said a Messiah, a Good Shepherd, could really help them by strengthening their faith. That by giving the Holy Spirit, Christ could help them learn to trust in God’s love and care without always seeing evidence.

They said it would be very helpful if Christ could lead them to what President Lincoln once called “the better angels of our nature,” that they could use a Messiah’s help to live a better, more loving, more welcoming life.

And they said that what they needed from a Messiah, a Good Shepherd, was help to break through fear, so they could live with boldness and courage, like those first disciples after Pentecost.

Now these are worthy things to seek from a Messiah. And unlike random resurrections at deathbeds, these are exactly the things the risen Christ not only promises, but has been giving to those who trust in him, for 2,000 years.

Jesus says it today: I’ve shown you all you need to trust me.

If you want me as your shepherd, listen to my voice. Follow me. You’ll know then. There’s nothing preventing Jesus’ questioners from being his sheep except their unwillingness to listen to his voice and follow. And there’s nothing preventing 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, and 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 bring God’s healing to this world.

And you’ve seen that the risen Christ has promised to be with you, and countless believers before you have witnessed to knowing this, 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 seeing all the evidence we always seem to want.

You’ve seen, and you’ve heard.

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

All that’s left is to listen for the voice of your Shepherd, your Messiah, and follow. In following, you’ll find life that is eternal – that is, life now, rich and abundant, and life in the world to come.

Come, listen, and follow, find the life waiting for you in the arms of your Shepherd forever. Then, like so many before you, live your life as witness, so all can trust in the Shepherd’s love.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

You are forgiven by God in Christ and sent out to be Christ because you are trusted, and you are needed. And Christ will give you all you need to do the job.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: Acts 9:1-20; John 21:1-19

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

Today’s Gospel ends in a startling moment.

To see it, look at next week, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday. Each year’s Gospel on 4 Easter is a different part of John 10. Next week we get the last section of John 10, where Jesus promises no one can snatch his sheep from his crucified and risen hands.

And earlier in the chapter Jesus speaks of hired hands, who, though supposed to care for the sheep, run away at the first sign of danger. I am the Good Shepherd, Jesus says. I never run away. I will lay down my life for my sheep.

So what is Jesus doing today, handing over care of his sheep to Peter? Three times he asks Peter if he loves him, three times he hears “yes,” and three times he says “care for my flock.”

This call to feed my lambs, tend my sheep, is a call to all who follow Christ. And it’s shocking to think what it implies. Somehow, Jesus trusts Peter, and the other disciples, and me, and you, to be good shepherds. Somehow Jesus trusts that we won’t run like hired hands when God’s sheep are in danger, but stick around, put our lives at risk. We will be Christ. We will feed and tend Christ’s sheep.

Frankly, it’s hard to understand such trust.

We have two alarming stories of Christ’s trust today.

Peter is a bumbling, self-centered clod, seemingly not terribly bright, and gifted at putting his foot in his mouth. Paul is a rigid, fundamentalist zealot for his faith who thinks nothing of watching his leadership council illegally stone someone to death for blasphemy, who seems to enjoy arresting followers of Jesus’ Way. These are the two to whom Jesus says, “I trust you. I need you.”

Peter, who just betrayed Jesus in his deepest hour of need, denying three times with cursing and swearing that he even knew him. Three times Jesus says, “If you’re telling the truth, if you love me, then shepherd my sheep.”

Paul, who in all his self-righteous anger, isn’t just persecuting Christ’s people, he’s persecuting Christ. If you hurt them, you hurt me, Christ says to him on the road. But now the risen Christ also says, “I need you to be my witness to all those people out there who aren’t Jewish. You’re not only not needed to purify Judaism; I need you to bring in people who are unacceptable to your Jewish faith. They’re mine, too. Find those sheep and bring them to me.”

It’s enough to question Christ’s commitment to be our Good Shepherd, giving these two such trust.

This is the shocking side of forgiveness and grace, to be honest.

We proclaim that God in Christ forgives sins – yours, mine, all people – and loves without our deserving it. We are declared righteous by God through Christ, made righteous by the Holy Spirit. Even Peter and Paul are forgiven and loved, despite their flaws and sin. That’s good. They’re getting a second chance in God’s forgiveness.

But do you see the Triune God’s plan Jesus reveals today? Second chances are only the beginning. In fact, your second, or third, or fourth, or God knows how many chances, are prelude to the truly surprising part: Christ trusts you to faithfully care for God’s sheep, to be Christ in the world. Forgiveness – as wonderful as it is to know – is never the ending point. You will always hear next Christ’s loving voice, “Now, I have a job for you. I know you can do it. I need you for it.”

It’s good that Peter and Paul look like terrible candidates for this job. Maybe now you can also believe that God really needs someone like you, too.

Now, Christ isn’t giving up the job of Good Shepherd.

Christ, our Good Shepherd, crucified and risen from the dead, holds you in life now and always. Gives second, and third, and fourth, and countless chances to you and to all.

And yes, needs and trusts you to serve as Christ on a difficult path. Today the wounded and risen Christ promises to show Paul “how much he must suffer for the sake of [the name of Christ.]” After his call to tend the flock, Peter is shown by the One who bears love’s scars that he will eventually die for this ministry. We know well this vulnerable love is also our calling.

But your Good Shepherd never stops feeding and guiding and caring for you, even while sending you. Jesus feeds Peter and the others with a meal of reconciliation before sending them to feed the rest of the flock. Christ heals Paul’s internal and external blindness, sends Ananias to feed Paul’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, before sending him to witness.

Your breakfast on the Galilean beach happens here, your care in Ananias’ house happens here. You are fed with Christ’s meal of forgiveness and reconciliation. Fed with God’s Word for guidance and challenge. Fed by Christ’s hands and heart in Christ’s people around you. Here your true Good Shepherd gives you all you need, fills you and heals you, before sending you out.

You are fed. You are trusted. You are needed.

That’s the grace of Christ’s Easter life that offers joy to your heart. Come to the Table again and be filled. Hear God’s Word. Let God’s people strengthen you. Receive here your millionth chance, God’s forgiveness and love that are always yours.

And then listen. Because you’re about to be sent out. There are sheep who need to be shown the way home. There are lambs who need to be fed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

In the risen Christ’s wounds we see God’s love, we see God, and we are embolden to offer own vulnerable love for the healing of all things.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: John 20:19-31; Acts 5:27-32

Sisters and brothers 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 Thomas demand to see Jesus’ wounds before he’d believe?

It can’t simply be for identification. After Jesus’ resurrection, even those closest to him didn’t always know him at first. But their recognition came in different ways. Mary heard him say her name, and knew. The disciples of Emmaus recognized him when he broke the bread. The seven in Galilee knew by the huge catch of fish. No one seemed to need to see his wounds just to know it was Jesus.

John suggests the wounds are important in a deeper way than mere identification. On the first Easter night, Jesus appeared to all but Thomas, and “showed them his hands and his side,” John says. Maybe that’s why Thomas wanted to see the wounds, too. And when he does, he is overwhelmed and says, “My Lord and my God.”

Thomas not only recognizes his beloved Lord Jesus, alive. He names him as God. Christ’s wounded hands and feet and side showed him.

Thomas witnesses: You’ll know God when you see God’s wounds of love.

Eventually Paul will declare that at the cross God reconciled the whole cosmos back into God’s life, that the cross is central to all we need to know about God’s love in Christ.

Thomas starts that idea, but please notice what he understands. For 2,000 years the Church has debated, fought, made claims, proposed theories about how the cross and resurrection of Christ Jesus reconcile us to God. For some, the theories are the important thing. You have to know how it works for it to be real.

Thomas disagrees. He says, all you need to know God’s love is to see God’s wounds. Then you can believe.

And he’s right. I don’t need to understand vitamins or nutritional science to be nourished for life. I just need to eat food. You can study how food works, but the smallest child can eat a meal and be satisfied.

Likewise, you don’t need to know how God in Christ reconciles all things at the cross to believe that God does. You only need to see the signs of God’s love, and believe. Those wounds, suffered by the very Son of God out of love for the cosmos, show you God’s love in the only way you can understand.

Because what God’s Son reveals in his scarred body is exactly what he taught again and again: love willing to be wounded heals the world.

What Thomas saw in Jesus’ hands and feet and side fit with everything he’d heard from Jesus. Jesus’ way of repentance and following is a way of vulnerable love, in order to heal relationships between individuals, between cultures, between nations. Such love, spreading throughout the world, will end poverty and hunger, war and oppression, and all the isms that infect our hearts and minds. Love willing to be hurt will break the forces of evil and the barriers built up in our hearts that keep us from loving God and loving neighbor.

Jesus never shied away from telling the cost of this love. True love is willing to be wounded, even die, he said. And he was right. Love your enemies? That’s going to leave a scar. Pray for those who hate you? You’ll be marked by that. Give to everyone who begs from you? That will cost you. Forgive not seven times but so many you’ll lose count, even if it’s the same sin you have to keep forgiving over and over? That will cut to your heart. But in this love, life will be restored.

When Thomas saw these wounds, he knew he was looking at God’s love. Jesus’ teachings were now revealed as truth in the risen Christ.

But why does the risen Christ still have wounds?

Jesus is raised from the dead. Why does he still bear marks of his suffering?

Because when love is wounded for the sake of others, that leaves scars. They’re healed, but still there, signs of that love. Think of the wounds a mother receives giving birth. A new life is in the world, but the marks still remain as sign of the vulnerable love that brought that life into being.

So God is still bearing the wounds of God’s love for the cosmos, even after Easter. The Triune God still bears scars of suffering and death, reminders of the love poured out at the cross. Even though life has been restored, even though death has no more power, the marks remain.

As they do with you. When you forgive one who has asked it, a new relationship is born, and new life happens. You still carry the scars, though, but they’re healed, reminders of your love, not painful wounds that still fester. When you offer your love to another, and it costs, you still carry those costs, even though life comes out of your woundedness, and love grows and thrives. Risen wounds remain a sign of the love that caused them.

And when Thomas sees his risen Lord still scarred from his outpoured love, but alive and offering peace, Thomas realizes that vulnerable love not only redeems the world, it lives beyond the woundedness.

Seeing Christ’s risen wounds, the sign of God’s redeemed suffering, emboldened the disciples to follow the same love.

Look in Acts today at the courage of Peter and the others before the same council that just condemned Jesus to death, the same council that will soon turn into mob frenzy and stone Stephen to death. “We won’t stop proclaiming Jesus’ death and resurrection,” they say. “We have to obey God, not you human authorities.”

Most of them did lose their lives, gave up everything out of love. But living in the risen love of God in Christ, they knew from the risen Christ’s wounds that offering themselves in vulnerable love was not only the way of Christ, it was the way to life, to hope, to healing. So they let go of their fear. One at a time, they went out to change the world by their love, whatever the cost. And change it they did.

You know God’s love when you see God’s risen wounds, and there you find God’s grace to be wounded yourself.

That’s the way out of this locked upper room for Thomas, for you, for me.

Christ is risen, and you can see God’s wounds still, the marks of God’s wounded love that transform the whole creation. That’s the love that will empower yours, embolden you to offer yourself in love to your family, your neighbor, your world.

And people will see God’s love when they see your wounds. It’s time to unlock the door and go out as you are sent, as Christ yourself, to be a part of God’s healing of all things.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen