April 25, 2010

 

Scripture:         Acts 9:36-43

 

Sermon:           "The Hands of Christ"

 

            Turning our hearts and minds now to the word of God, let us read together the scripture lesson for the day.  Turn with me to the Acts of the Apostles, chapter 9 where we will read together verses 36 through 43.  You can find that easily on page 172 of the New Testament in the pew Bible.

            I am keenly aware of how much this story in the bible catches us at an awkward time.  After all, we are going to read about a deeply loved person in the early church who has died unexpectedly, leaving behind grief and pain among those that loved her.  We’ve had two funerals in the past two weeks.  Just yesterday we said our final goodbyes to Kenny Cotner.  I’d like more than anything to have him back, to have his story sound like this one here.  Tabitha, whom will read about shortly, was brought back to life at the hands of Peter.

            It is something that, frankly, is almost beyond belief.  Outside of the emergency room where such things happen in the care of professionals using all kinds of life-saving equipment, no one among us has ever seen such a thing—a person resuscitated.

            But, we do know quite well what these people are going through, don’t we?  We’ve grieved losses among us of people that have given great gifts to us over the years.  I think of Kim Mullineaux, you know.  I think of many others.  I have known this woman in scripture, the one they called Tabitha.  I have known her.

            The widows of her community were devastated when Tabitha died.  She always watched after them.  I’ve known this woman before.  And they brought with them some of the clothes that Tabitha knitted together for them.  They’re crying at the bedside, holding up the garments, and weeping for their lost loved one.

            We know pretty well how this feels.  So, we enter into this story in a very familiar place.  Grief.  Heartbreak.  Shock.

            Let’s read together the word of the Lord.

 

            Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas.  She was devoted to good works and acts of charity.  At that time she became ill and died.  When they washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs.  Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.”  So Peter got up and went with them; and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs.  All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them.  Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed.  He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.”  Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up.  He gave her his hand and helped her up.  Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive.  This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.  Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.

 

            When I first started out in ministry, I lived by this motto:  If you want it done right, do it yourself.  Have you ever lived that way?  If you want it done right, do it yourself.

            What is that?  Is it arrogance?  Is it a lack of trust?  Do it yourself because you don’t trust anyone else to do it.  Nobody can do it like me!

            Maybe it’s a lack of experience.  I was green, as they say.  Green.  Fresh.  Inexperienced.  Do it yourself because it’s your opportunity to show folks just how capable you are.

            Now what it is when you live that way is definitely exhausting.

            I would say “yes” to just about anything and everything.  Seriously.  On several occasions I was wielding a toilet plunger to fix the plumbing.  I was teaching Sunday School classes, sometimes two at once.  I was writing almost everything that got published in the newsletter.  I was driving the church van.  I was chasing away the bats.  We had bats in that old building where I first served as pastor.  I would chase them out of the sanctuary.

            Here’s what I discovered.  I didn’t take very long for the people of the church to stop volunteering for things.  I was burning myself out and blaming them in my private conversations with other ministers.  I’d say that these lazy people who had called me to be their pastor would not survive another six months.

            Now, that was a congregation that had been around since 1846—which, I know is a paltry sum of years compared to us here at Park.  But, somehow they depended on me.  I was a fresh seminary graduate with all the answers.  All the while I never asked anyone to do anything.  And when people did offer to help, what would I say?  “Oh, no, that’s okay.  I’ll do it.”

            I had these delusions, I think, that the more I did, the more people would appreciate my hard work.  They were going to start showing up in bucket-loads on Sunday mornings.  We would be the most exciting church in our little town.  Can you even name all of the things wrong with that?

            I had this ridiculous notion that churches grew because of their energetic ministers.  You know, I’d look around at successful congregations, large churches, and I’d see the passion of the preachers and believe that’s what it was all about.  Just give it time.  All of my “hard work” was going to pay off.

            It’s a bunch of hooey.

            Churches don’t grow because one fool can do everything by him or herself.  Churches don’t grow because of one person standing in front of everybody once a week with all of the answers and all of the charm.  I didn’t have much of either of those things, anyway.  Churches grow because the people inside them are excited about their ministry.  They might have a terrific and gifted minister in their pulpit.  But, churches grow because congregations are active, volunteering, excited.  I’ve seen churches grow with very bland preachers that preach very bland sermons.

            I wish I had known that.

            But, it’s so hard to let go and give things to other people.

            Now, I’m learning.  Being a father now, I’m definitely learning.  And someday I’ll find myself sitting in the passenger seat of my car.  Little Maddy will have grown up much too quickly and I will be teaching her how to drive.  That’s what will happen.  And it is the same thing that happened when I was 15.

            You’ve been through this?  Teaching a teenager to drive?

            My dad took me to a big, open parking lot at my high school on a Saturday morning.  It was just me and him.  And I sat for the first time behind the steering wheel of our poor little Honda Accord.  Dad handed me the keys.  I couldn’t wait.  I was so excited.  And I didn’t want to give away the secret that I had actually done this before in a friend’s car.  But, that’s another story.  I wanted him to be impressed.  So, I said to him, “Relax, Dad.  I just might surprise you.”

            This is what he said to me.  He said, “I hope not.  I hope you don’t surprise me.”

            I hope you don’t surprise me.  The man trusted me.  I’ll never forget that.  He trusted me.

            What an idiot!

            Well, I plan on saying those words to Maddy on the day she learns to drive.  I want her to know that I believe in her just like my Dad believed in me.  That’s what I’m going to say when I hand her the keys.

            It turns out that the experiences of parenthood are a remarkable insight into the life of God.  Not all of us are or have been parents.  But, we’ve all been children.  Our faith is full of comparisons of our relationship to God and relationships between parents and children.  Right?  We pray to God and we often say “Father”.  We talk about people as children of God.  I’ve been saying those things most of my life.  But, I think that I get it now in a whole new way.  I look at my daughter and I feel so completely connected to her like no one else in my entire life.  So, now I’m supposed to understand more deeply how God looks at me—how God looks at anyone.  I do, too.  I get that in a whole new way.

            Parenting is full of these moments of handing over the keys.  Maybe it’s letting a child walk across the room for the first time without chasing behind her with your arms out.  May it’s putting him on a school bus for the first time.  Maybe it’s unpacking her belongings into a dormitory or an apartment.  Maybe it’s the day you see him hold his own child in his arms.  That’s when you cherish the thought of that little child crying all night long while you rest contently in the peace of your empty house!

            All of those moments are handing over the keys.  Trusting.

            Is that what God’s life is like?

            Maybe.  Do you remember these words between Jesus and his disciple Peter?  Jesus said to him, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.”  (Matthew 16:18)  Do you remember that?

            It’s like the two of them were sitting in a car together.  Peter’s behind the wheel for the very first time.  Jesus is sitting in the passenger seat.  And Jesus says, “Okay, Peter.  Here are the keys.  You take it from here.”  It’s an incredible amount of trust, you know.

            And Peter’s not some superhero.  He’s just learning.  He’s got a long way to go.  “On this rock I will build my church.”  That’s what Jesus said.  Jesus said that, but Peter was not perfect.

            One day Jesus is handing over the keys, you know.  And then another day he’s saying to Peter, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.”

            That’s who Jesus was dealing with.  Peter.  This all-too-human, strong at times, weak at other times, growing, learning lump of flesh that we call Peter is who Jesus was turning the keys over to.

            It’s like Peter had to learn to crawl a little bit before he walked.  He had to learn to drive a car before he could handle a bus.  He was not entirely the great leader of the church when Jesus handed him the keys.  He stumbled afterward.  It would take time for him to grow into it.

            But, now look what happened.

            Fast-forward a bit to today’s story over in Acts.  You know Jesus had been crucified.  Peter had denied the man three times in fear of his own life.  And this powerful thing has happened.  Jesus was crucified, but he appeared again to his disciples and others.  And they were all now living with this new-found strength and power in the Holy Spirit.  That’s where we are in today’s story.

            Look at what happened.  This is the same Peter, you know.  And what is Peter doing?

            He’s kneeling down at the bedside of a dear and beloved saint of the church in Joppa.  This woman has died and the people around her are just heartbroken.  They are crying and grieving and they’re showing Peter all of the clothes that Tabitha had made for them during her life.

            It’s a scene that is, really, almost identical to a story that Luke described in his gospel.  Back then it was Jesus himself who was called to the bedside of a young girl that had died.  She was only twelve and her family was completely devastated.  Jesus went to the house and sent everyone out but his closest disciples.  Even the girl’s parents were sent outside.  And he looked at this poor girl’s body and said, “Child, get up.”  And, the girl lived again.

            That’s what Peter is doing here.  It’s just about the same, you see.

            Peter sent everyone outside the room.  He was kneeling by the bed and praying.  And then he looked at that poor woman’s body and, just like Jesus, he said, “Tabitha, get up.”  And the woman lived again.

            I kind of imagine a child on a bicycle for the first time without the training wheels.  She’s sitting on it and Dad is holding it upright and pushing her along as she pedals.  He’s going to have to trust her in order to let go.  He’s going to have to be there to heal the skinned knees and dry the tears of failure.  But, he’s going to let go anyway.  And when he does that little girl sort of wobbles her way along for the first few feet.  But, then she straightens out and starts really doing it.  She’s riding that bike without training wheels.  She’s doing it.  It’s not the last time that she learns anything.  But, she’s doing this now.

            And that’s what this story is like.  Jesus has let go of Peter and he’s doing it.  He’s wobbling a bit as he goes, but he’s doing it.

            In the resurrection, that’s where we find ourselves.  Jesus is letting go of us as we grow bit by bit.  He’s there and he’s always watching over us.  But, he’s letting us go and saying, “now it’s your turn.”  This ministry of God to a hurt and broken world, it’s up to you and me.  And he’s turning it over to us as we grow.

            I know that we’re going to wobble.  We’ll scrape our knees.  We might back the car into the neighbor’s mailbox.  But, this ministry is ours, now.  It’s our turn and Jesus is handing it over.

            Goodness, that’s a lot of trust that he’s got in us.  Isn’t it?  He must believe in us like we cannot imagine.

            But, he believes in us.

            Wow.  He believes in us.

            We are the hands of Christ.

 

Rev. David James Brown

Park Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)