You Can't Handle the Truth

trth1Scripture: John 14:1-14

When I hear Jesus say, “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” this scene from the movie “A Few Good Men” immediately comes to mind:

Jack Nicholson showed up in my December “Season’s Greetings” blog post, too.

Does anyone else have visions of Jack Nicholson when they read the gospels? Anyone? Anyone?

Ok, maybe it’s just me.

But there is something about an angry, unhinged, often yelling Jack Nicholson that speaks an important reminder to us about the scriptures. Perhaps we’ve become accustomed to hearing the words of scripture speaking in hushed, polite tones. Maybe we’ve heard these words so many times they sound too familiar, too predictable, too comfortable. Just maybe, we say we’ve heard the good news and yet we feel little and do nothing. That’s why we could use a little Jack Nicholson in our biblical interpretation. In the jarring contrast, we are reminded that the gospel message was, is, and forever will be challengingly life-changing, mind-blowingly difficult, and even in-your-face offensive to those who hear it.

Just look at the disciples here in John:
They say they want the truth. But when they get it, they can’t handle it.
The truth does not fit into the world as they know it.
The truth does not make sense.
The truth is a trip down a never-ending rabbit hole full of twists and turns.
The truth puts anyone who receives it, who proclaims it, who lives it at risk.

And they can’t handle it. We see that in their questions, in their repeated requests for proof, in their doubt, and in their running away.

So it is for the disciples of every time and every place.

When Jesus shows us the truth of who we are, how much we need salvation, and offers it freely…
When Jesus reveals the astounding unfairness of God in grace, that we didn’t earn, don’t deserve, and can never pay back…
When Jesus calls us into relationship, not just with him, but with all of God’s broken and beloved world…
When Jesus models a life of self-sacrifice, truth-telling, forgiveness, sharing, and welcome…

We can’t handle it.

And it will take a lifetime and whole lot of Jesus if we hope to even get close.

Pastor Sarah

Off the Map

mapFriday, April 28, 2017

Luke 24:13-35

This week the disciples encounter the risen Christ in a village called Emmaus. In truth, Jesus showed up on the way there---but it is not until they have arrived that the disciples recognize him.

The location of Emmaus is unknown. There are a few possible locations, but no one knows for sure where this place actually was.

Maybe that's on purpose.

The disciples could not recognize Jesus walking right along side of them because their hope had failed, and therefore, their imaginations had as well. The only place they expected to encounter Jesus was the tomb. And when they did not find him there, in their disappointment, they had trouble seeing him anywhere else.

Perhaps the true location of Emmaus is intentionally obscured by the author of Luke. We are left searching, wondering, exploring the possibilities. We can't pinpoint on a map those places we'll encounter the new life of the resurrection. We can't plan for or predict those moments.

Jesus could show up anywhere, any time.

Even when our expectations have been disappointed.
Even when all hope seems lost.
Even when our vision has failed us.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, right there in our midst is new life!

Pastor Sarah

Christians are Losers

loserFriday, April 14, 2016

Matthew 26:47-28:10

You read that right.
Christians are losers.

Just look at who we worship—
A God who willingly loses immortality to become mortal.
A God who freely loses power to become weak.
A God who voluntarily loses glory to take on the embarrassment of the cross.

Christians are losers.

Just look at who we follow—
A Jesus who shows us how to lose every earthly possession and comfort.
A Jesus who loses his family, his friends, his followers.
A Jesus who loses his life.

Christians are losers, and how could we be anything else?

For we are called to lose ourselves, our lives, each and every thing that might hold us back from following Jesus.

We see in the scriptures the challenge of losing, the struggle of it, the myriad of ways we can fall short of it, and ultimately the inevitability of it. But we are also shown the great gift in it.

This Resurrection Sunday, we hear again the promise that when everything appears to be lost, that is the moment when new life will emerge.

Christians are losers.
And we need to embrace that, if we are to be faithful and not afraid.

Pastor Sarah

Get Your Hands Dirty

dirty hands dirty hands FPIJ8z clipartFriday, March 24, 2017

John 9:1-41

Ever notice that when Jesus acts he tends to create a great, big mess?

The first time he visits the temple in John he overturns tables, scatters farm animals, and sends money changers running for cover.

When he opens the tomb for Lazarus it causes a tremendous stink.

Then Mary, Lazarus' grateful sister, interrupts a dinner party with an unappetizing muddle of perfume, tears, and hair.

It's all shock and confusion at the last supper, when the teacher gets down on his knees with a basin of water and towel to wash his disciples filthy feet.

Even when he feeds people (what could be controversial about that?) it turns into a knock down, drag out melee of words.

And here in chapter 9 Jesus starts the healing with spit and dirt, a sign of the huge mess that he's about to make.

There's a saying in community organizing: all organizing is first disorganizing and then reorganizing.

Jesus is making a mess so that something new can emerge. It is not possible to hold on to the way things are, the same old thinking, the nice, neat order--and have new life.

Things have to break.
Noise must be made.
The routine--and more than a few people--will be upset.

Jesus invites us into the glorious mess he's making. With every sign he's welcoming us to join in:

Come on, time to get your hands dirty.

Pastor Sarah

I Don't Get It

Friday, March 10, 2017

John 3:1-17nicodemus

It happens over and over again in the gospel of John.
Jesus says something and everyone—the crowds, the strangers he meets, his friends, his opponents, even his disciples—stand there scratching their heads.

We see them not getting it, over and over, encounter after encounter, page after page. They don’t understand what he’s saying. They don’t get what he means by “born from above” or “living water” or “living bread” or pretty much anything else that comes out of his mouth. Their questions reveal their lack of understanding. They repeat his words with a mocking tone and laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds.

We see it with Nicodemus this week, coming to Jesus at night. We imagine him turning to head home, still in the dark about Jesus, his face shadowed with confusion.

Nevertheless in the Gospel of John, something very strange happens. The curious continue to follow. Those who don’t have the words to explain Jesus still beckon to others, “Come and see.” The ones who walk away with lingering questions tend to find their way back.

The gospel of John is not about understanding Jesus.
It is not about getting it.

Instead, each time Jesus opens his mouth the listener can’t help but draw in closer. It is an invitation to spend a little longer puzzling over his strange words. Our questions beg us to hang around a little while longer and see what happens next. And before you know it, you are leaving everything behind and following him to yet another town.  

This gospel is all about being in relationship with Jesus.

This is a relationship that calls us to exchange certainty for wonder.
This is a relationship that shows its worth in a wealth of questions, rather than answers.
This is a relationship that trades the familiar, old life for the new, yet to be revealed life of the resurrection.

So when you hear the gospel of John, don’t feel bad if you don’t get it. You’re not the only one.
And anyways, that’s not the point.