Head in the Clouds

May 28^th, 2017        “Head in the Clouds”   Rev. Heather Jepsen

Acts 1:1-14

          This morning we are looking at the Ascension story as told by the author of the gospel of Luke.  Only the Lukan author tells the story of Jesus’ bodily Ascension into heaven and he tells it both at the end of his gospel, and here at the beginning of his book of Acts.

          Church tradition holds that after his resurrection Jesus walked among the disciples for 40 days on the Earth.  He continued to teach them about the Kingdom of God and to try to prepare them for the days of the church without his presence.  After his 40 days were up, tradition holds that he was bodily lifted up into heaven.  This is where we get that line from the Apostles’ Creed.  “He descended into hell; on the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sittith on the right hand of God the Father Almighty . . .” This is the telling of that story.

          In the story that the author of Luke tells, the disciples are simply hanging out with Jesus in Jerusalem.  In fact, he has told them to specifically stay there.  It as if he is encouraging them to have this concentrated, focused time together with him and with each other.  He also has a practical reason as he wants them to remain together after he leaves so they are all in one place when the day arrives to receive the Holy Spirit.

          Even though they have followed what I will call the regular Jesus, and now they follow the resurrected Jesus, the disciples are still full of questions.  “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom of Israel?”  They are still waiting for him to be the Messiah that they expected.  They are still hoping his kingdom will be the one they longed for in their hearts.  A kingdom of power and glory, a restoration of the Israeli nation state, a time when they are wealthy and safe and seated in positions of power.  “Lord,” they ask, “will you answer those prayers now?  Will you bring about the Empire now?”

          Jesus once again reminds them that they are asking after the wrong things.  God is in charge of whether or not they rise to Empire power.  In the meantime, Jesus promises a different kind of power and authority.  The power of the Holy Spirit will come upon the group, and they will be given the authority to be witnesses to the message of the gospel.

          When he has finished explaining these things to the disciples, the author tells us that Jesus was lifted up into heaven.  While they were watching a cloud took him out of their sight.  Jesus is leaving and they are left standing there, gazing up toward the sky. 

          I like the way the Lukan author writes this because I can clearly imagine the scene.  The disciples are standing there suddenly surprised as Jesus begins to float away.  Like watching a helium balloon float into the clouds they strain their eyes and crane their necks, trying to catch the very last sight of him.  Even when he is no longer even a speck in the sky, they still are staring and trying to see him.  Their hearts aren’t ready to let him go again.  They long to hold on to him, to capture the time with him, to remain in that place of spiritual ecstasy.

          But he is gone, and God sends a reminder that there is still work to do.  Two unknown men appear among them and ask “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”  Enough of your longing and looking, the time has come to be the church without the physical presence of Jesus.  “He will come back some day,” they seem to say, “but there is work to be done right now.”

          So, they all go back to Jerusalem.  They are all there, the 11 remaining disciples, plus the women who are part of the community.  Even his mother Mary is there.  They gather again in the familiar upper room and begin being the church by devoting themselves to community and to prayer.

          Thousands of years have passed, yet it is easy to find ourselves today in a place that is similar to the disciples’ place in this story.  For one, we are still looking for Jesus to be the Messiah we want.  “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom of Israel?”  I think we are still looking for God to restore the Empire, and for us to have places of power within that Empire structure.  How often are our prayers asking for power, authority, recognition, and wealth?  Our ideas about the kingdom may have changed but we are certainly after the same things.  We don’t want to worship a Messiah who offers humility, meekness, and death.  We want to worship a Messiah who brings power, security, and endless life.  “Lord, when will you be the Messiah we are looking for?”

          Of course, God is never going to give us a kingdom that looks like Empire.  Like the disciples, the power we are offered is the power of the Holy Spirit.  Like the disciples the authority we are offered is the authority to preach the gospel.  These gifts are given specifically to be used against the Empire of our day.  Rather than giving us the power to rule, Jesus offers the community the power to speak against those who are in authority.  And it is something that we can only do together.  Jesus encourages the disciples to remain together to share the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  So too, we are called to remain together as a community that uses the Spirit’s power to speak truth to Empire.

          Of course, we have as difficult a time doing this as the original disciples did.  How often do we find ourselves squinting up at the sky, staring into heaven, looking for something more from God?  We engage in this behavior in countless different ways.  Some of us are busy literally staring at the sky, looking for the signs of Jesus’ eminent return as promised.  We are counting the days of the “end times” and busily preparing to meet our maker and to take our place in the Empire we imagine he will bring.

          Some of us do this when we spend all of our time parsing theological minutia.  Is Jesus 50% human and 50% divine we wonder, or is it more of a 60/40 split?  Or can he somehow be 100% of both?  We parse the language of the gospels and search the early church record in a constant quest to find concrete answers to spiritual mysteries.  We have no time to do the work of the church because we are so busy trying to define every last part of the faith.  Like staring into heaven we are squinting at the Scriptures and pulling them apart with tweezers.

          Some of us do this when we argue amongst ourselves as a church.  Did God call women and men to ministry or are men the only ones with authority?  What about gay people, do they have a place in the church?  Just how big should a Session be and what are their exact responsibilities?  How many make a quorum of Presbytery and what are the rules surrounding property disputes?  Like staring into heaven we are staring at the church, seeking after that same quest for Empire power as we strive to build the perfect mini-empire in the perfect ecclesiology.

          All of us are called to ask ourselves this morning just what it is we are so busy looking at that we struggle to be the church Jesus calls us to be.  What aspect of our faith has consumed our attention in such a way that we are distracted by other things?  Where is our focus, where is our hunger, and where is our energy?  Are we still craving the Empire?  Are we trying to build our own empires?  Like the disciples, are we looking in all the wrong places?  Is our head in the clouds?

          As they watch Jesus retreat to a pin prick in the sky, the community is called back to its senses.  “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?  Jesus will come back.”  And in that confidence of Jesus’ return, they return to themselves.  They come to their senses, and come once again to the place of community, the upper room.

          I imagine that in this short period of time, between the Ascension and the Pentecost, the Jesus community begins to realize that Jesus has come among them once again.  He has come among them, in the presence of each other.  Jesus is there, when they are all there together.  Jesus is there, when they recognize him in the face of each other.  Jesus is there, when they are in community.  Even before they receive the Holy Spirit, they have each other, constantly devoting themselves to prayer.

          So too, if we want to see Jesus, we must pull our heads out of the clouds.  Jesus is right here, if we are willing to find him in each other, if we are willing to find him in community.  We need to stop craving Empire as people have done for generations, and start using the gifts we have been given to speak truth to the powers in our lives.  We need to devote ourselves to prayer and to work to live in the community together.

          In the story that the Lukan author tells, Jesus spends 40 extra days teaching the disciples who he was, and who he was calling them to be.  They continued to long for earthly power and prestige, and he continued to offer them something else, the power of the community of faith.  As he was bodily carried away from the earth, they were reminded to get their own heads out of the clouds.  The lessons they received ring true for us today: Look around and do the work of the church now.  Devote yourselves to prayer and building a life together.  Jesus will return among you, but only when you are willing to find him in each other.  Let go of Empire dreams and embrace the power of faith instead.  May God help us to continue to learn these lessons today and every day.  Amen.     

         

         

Asking Questions

May 14^th, 2017        “Asking Questions”     Rev. Heather Jepsen

John 14:1-14

          This morning is one of those thick Sundays in the gospel of John.  Like last week, Jesus is speaking with the disciples and his language seems convoluted.  Unlike the straight talking Jesus in Mark’s gospel, Jesus often speaks this way in the gospel of John; in many sentences that are layered with imagery.  It is no wonder that everyone around him is struggling to understand.  It can be difficult to tease apart the meaning of the text, let alone a word for us today.

          The setting is that last Passover dinner.  Jesus has gathered the disciples and washed their feet.  He has shared a meal with them, and Judas has left the group to do “what he is going to do.”  After Judas departs, Jesus begins to speak of his own eminent departure in what has come to be known as the final discourse in the Gospel of John.

          “Little children, I am with you only a little longer . . . where I am going you cannot come.”  Everyone is naturally disturbed at this news and struggles to understand.  Peter asks the question, “Lord, where are you going . . . why can I not follow you now?” 

          It is from this point that Jesus offers the portion of the discourse that we are examining today.  He offers a word of encouragement to his followers, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  He goes on to make promises; promises about the presence of God.  “I go to prepare a place for you.”  The implication is that there is always a place for the disciples to be with their Lord. 

          The desire to follow is strong, and Thomas again begins to question.  “Lord, we do not know where you are going.  How can we know the way?”  In one of the most famous lines of the gospel, Jesus implies that the only way forward lies with him.  “I am the way, the truth, the life.”  It is no wonder that the disciples are mystified.  Can you imagine asking someone for directions and having them simply reply, “I am the directions”? 

          Phillip wishes things were easier, clearer.  “Lord show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”  Give us a clear answer, give us something to hold on to, and we will be OK.  Jesus replies that the disciples have seen the Father, because they have seen Jesus himself.  He implies that he is the manifestation of God on Earth, and so he has shown them all that they need to see.  He then tells them that they too, can do the works of God, if they ask in the name of Jesus.  From here the speech continues for several chapters as Jesus offers his prolonged goodbyes and lessons to his followers and friends.

          I have to admit that sometimes I love the gospel of John and sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes I am put off by the high Christology in John’s gospel.  What I mean by that is that Jesus is so much like God, so other-worldly, so holy, that he can be hard to relate to.  He is also very hard to understand.  The way that John’s Jesus talks is so complex and thick that I always end up feeling like I have been spun around in a circle too many times and I struggle to find my bearings.

          That leads me to what I love about John’s gospel, and that is the role of the disciples.  That is the place where I can easily find myself.  They are so earnest, they are trying so hard, and yet they are so confused.  “Lord, where are you going?”  “Lord, why can I not follow you now?”  “Lord, how can we know the way?”  “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”  These are all statements that I can totally relate to in my own searching life of faith.

          Of course, Jesus offers me the same answers he offered his friends that night.  “Lord, where are you going?”  “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, but you will follow afterward.”  Jesus has gone ahead to a place I cannot reach now, but a place I will reach in the future. 

          In what has become a very popular text for funerals, Jesus offers this comfort:  “I go to prepare a place for you.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”  As readers, we know the end of the gospel.  We know that Jesus goes on into the place death.  As a believer I know that I cannot follow Jesus there now, but I will follow him there later.  And when I am there, there will be a place for me and a place for others.  Not mansions in the sky, where we are all living separate lives like we do here on Earth.  No, the more proper translation is room.  Where Jesus is going, where I am going, is a place where there is room.  Not even a room in a house, but room meaning space; room for everybody.

          “Lord, how can we know the way?”  “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  When we ask what the path is, Jesus tells us that he is the path.  If we look to Jesus, if we study the life he lived, if we read his words and know his stories, then we will know the way.  Follow the path that Jesus sets before you.  Then you will know the way; then you will have life.

          “Lord, show us the Father.”  Like Philip, we are a people who long to see God.  If only things were clearer on the path that Jesus offers.  Philip asks for a sign, for proof in the existence of the divine, for certainty that he is on the right path.  “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied.”  I want to see God, not just read about it.  I want to know God, not just take things on faith.  “Lord, show us more.” 

          Jesus replies that he has shown them enough.  They have seen enough.  And so, by comparison, have we.  Jesus tells the disciples that the words he speaks are from God.  That to have seen him, to have seen Jesus; is to have seen God.  To know him, to follow him, to believe in him; is to know, follow, and believe in God.  It is enough.  It is all that we need.

          In the final section for today, Jesus looks to the future.  “Those who believe in me, can do my works . . . Those who pray in my name, will have their prayers answered.”  The disciples will become those people.  And so will we.  We have the opportunity each day to do the work of Christ in our world.  Think of all the things that believers have done in the name of Jesus since his physical life on earth ended.  When we add all of those acts of faith up in our minds, those people who have changed the world one person at a time, Jesus’ words ring true; “They will do greater works than these.”

          When I was thinking about all these questions and answers this week, I kept coming back to one statement.  “If you know me, you will know my Father.”  The point that Jesus is making in this portion of the discourse, and the point that the writer of the Gospel of John is making throughout the gospel as a whole, is really quite simple.  To know Jesus is to know God.  This has become the heart of the Christian tradition.  Jesus is the one who shows us who God is.

          I was challenged this week to ask this question in turn of myself.  “To see me is to see . . . what?”  “To know Heather, is to know . . . what?”  In my life of faith, I am motivated by a desire to show Jesus to the world.  Not the definitive Jesus, not all there is to know, not a manifestation that equals Christ’s manifestation of the Lord.  But a simple glimmer of Jesus, a shadow of Jesus, a little spark of Jesus, in the way that I live.  If I am following the way, the truth, the life; shouldn’t that show in my own life?

          Part of my daily prayer and meditation time includes a pondering of this statement by the great spiritual writer Thomas Keating.  He says “We all have the innate capacity to manifest God, because we already are that image by virtue of being created.”  Listen again, “We all have the innate capacity to manifest God, because we already are that image by virtue of being created.”  I love this statement, for we know that we are made in the image of God, so therefore it logically follows that we ought to be able to project that image to the world.  So every day I ask myself, what have I done to manifest God, to follow the way of Jesus Christ, in my world today?

          The gospel of John is full of questions, so too are our own individual lives of faith.  “Lord, where are you going?”  “Lord, how can we know the way?”  “Lord, show us the Father.”  In the gospel of John Jesus offers answers to the disciples and to us.  “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  “Those who know me, know the Father.”  “Believe in me, and do the works I do.”   “Ask in my name, and I will do it.”

          May God continue to be with us as we ask questions on this journey of faith.  And may we continue to follow the way that Jesus sets before us, trying to manifest the image of God, the image in which we were created, in our broken world today.  Amen.

            

Going Out the Gate

May 7^th, 2017          “Going Out the Gate”     Rev. Heather Jepsen

John 10:1-10 with Psalm 23

          This morning is what is sometimes referred to as “Shepherd Sunday”.  On the fourth Sunday of the Easter season, the lectionary always turns to Psalm 23 and pairs that reading with various “sheep themed” readings from throughout our scriptures.  This is a Sunday that we love to return to, as the 23^rd Psalm is a favorite of many.  We love those green pastures and still waters.

          For many of us, the familiar words of the 23^rd Psalm provide a great comfort and peace.  When we are in difficult places in our lives, these are the words that we turn to.  It is no surprise to find that this is one of the few pieces of scripture that many un-churched folks are familiar with, as well as the most popular reading at funerals. 

          One of the reasons we love the 23^rd Psalm so much is because the whole of our lives is found within its simple phrases.  The good is there of course in the images of green pastures and still waters.  The bad is there in the valley of shadows and death and in the enemies that surround us.  Even God’s nudging in our lives is there, when we consider the work of the rod and staff in correcting the path of a wayward sheep.

          The words of the 23^rd Psalm give us comfort in days like these as for many of us this is a troubling time in our world.  We see things around us that make us wonder just what direction our world is headed in.  This surely isn’t a time of green pastures and still waters.  In fact for many, this feels like a valley of darkness.  We are thankful to have the shepherd to lead us through this frightening time, and we are hopeful to enter that sheepfold, and to be kept safe from predators.

          Of course, predators are everywhere.  That is the message of Jesus in the gospel of John.  As always, context is important here, and Jesus does not simply offer this soliloquy out of the blue.  Jesus is responding to conflict within the church community.  This speech is given following the long drawn out story of the man born blind.  You may remember that we looked at this story briefly in March.  Jesus healed a blind man which started an argument between him and the Pharisees.  The Pharisees claim that Jesus is a sinner and therefore unable to heal.  The blind man claims that he has been healed and the fact is indisputable.  In the end the blind man worships Jesus, and the Pharisees are left wondering whether or not they are the ones who are actually blind.

          From here, Jesus launches into a discourse on the role of the shepherd.  In typical Johannine fashion, Jesus spins language in many directions.  Is he the shepherd, or is he the gatekeeper, or is he the actual gate itself?  It is no wonder that “they did not understand what he was saying to them.”

          Shepherding imagery is common in the Hebrew tradition.  Not only is the 23^rd Psalm which features the image of God as a shepherd significant, there are also the prophets’ calls for a shepherd who will come and rule like none other, plus the love the tradition holds for David, the shepherd boy who becomes king.  Jesus is building on all of this imagery when he talks about the sheepfold, the gate, and those who come in and go out in his name.

          The point Jesus is making to the Pharisees is that he is the chosen one.  They are merely gatekeepers, but he is the gate itself.  They are merely substitute shepherds, but he is the one who all the sheep recognize.  The writer of the gospel of John is carefully painting Jesus with the brush of Old Testament imagery that will mark him as the chosen one of Israel, the greatest shepherd of all time.

          That’s all well and good, and clearly the historical context of this text, but really it doesn’t have a whole lot to offer us.  As the products of over 2000 years of Christianity, finding out that Jesus is the good shepherd is hardly a life altering event.  We can just swallow that up, along with the comforting imagery of the 23^rd Psalm and go home feeling good about ourselves today.  If that is what you are in the mood for today then please stop listening now. 

          For everyone else, I need to give you something to actually think about this week.  So as I was looking at these 10 verses in John in comparison with the 23^rd Psalm, I came upon another thought.  Take a look at verse 3, the shepherd calls the sheep, and “leads them out”.

          Here we are a frightened and disturbed people.  Like sheep who have been through a thunderstorm, we are happy to just hide out in the sheep pen.  We are happy to lie down in green pastures and sip from still waters and simply let the world pass us by.  But, that is not what the shepherd in John 10 is offering.  No, that shepherd, Jesus the Christ, is leading us out of the sheepfold and into the big scary world.

          I think sometimes we forget that the gate of that sheep pen swings both ways.  Sure, we can follow the shepherd in and find rest, but eventually we must follow the shepherd back out again.  In fact, Jesus implies that the ones willing to follow him out into the world are his true followers.  It’s easy to get into the sheep pen, but it takes a lot more courage to leave.  “When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow because they know his voice.”  Not all sheep leave the pen, but those who do are Jesus’ own.  Those who truly belong to the Lord, follow out the gate and follow him out into the world.

          In our modern lives, so many of us are so scared.  We literally worry about everything.  From the new neighbors moving in next door, to the ever present threat of war and violence, to the new ways of harsh discourse that mark our lives, we have really worked ourselves into a tizzy.  For many, the response to this discomfort is to hide away.  We want to enter the sheepfold and bury our heads in the sand.  But that is not the response of the true sheep.  The true sheep follow the shepherd back out the gate again, into the scary world, into the valley of the shadow of death where enemies surround our every side.

          You might be asking why.  “Why do we need to follow Jesus out of places of safety?”  And Jesus tells us why.  “So that all may have life, and have it abundantly.”  That is why the shepherd came and that is why the shepherd leads us out; so that all may have life, abundant life.

          As followers of Jesus the Christ, Jesus the shepherd, we are called to go out into the world in his name and preach life.  This means standing up to the negative forces in our world.  This means pointing out racism and sexism where we find it.  This means working for the causes of social justice including the right to healthcare.  This means volunteering at the Food Center and at Shiloh to insure that all have a meal to eat tonight.  This means supporting the cause of education for all of our children.  This means saying something when you see something.  This means standing up for the little guy, and taking responsibility for the lives of our neighbors.  We are called to follow the shepherd out of the gate into the dark places of the world, and we are to do that so that all may have life, and have it abundantly.  If we don’t answer this call, if we stay in the fold, then perhaps we are not his sheep after all.  “He calls his own sheep by name, and he leads them out.”

          Just like you, I long to stay in the nice spots of Psalm 23.  I long to lounge in safety in green pastures and still waters.  But I know that God requires more of me.  I hear the shepherd calling my name, and I am willing to go out into the world, following my shepherd, and lifting up the causes of justice so that all may have life.  How else will goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life?  That certainly won’t happen if I stay within the safety of the sheepfold.  If want to leave a trail of goodness and mercy behind me, then I need to follow the shepherd out into the world.

          The hope of this message this morning is that we are never alone.  Yes, it is scary to go out into the world to fight for justice, but the promise of the shepherd is to be always with us.  The Good Shepherd calls us out, leads us, goes with us and protects us.  Even though we walk through dark valleys, we are comforted by the rod and staff which keep us safe.  Abundant life for us, and abundant life for others, means leaving the safety of the sheepfold.

          This week, as you once again consider the image of the Good Shepherd, I encourage you to listen to the voice of the shepherd in your life this day.  How is Jesus calling your name?  Is now the time that you are being called out of the sheepfold, to follow the shepherd out into the world?  If Jesus has come that all may have abundant life, what does that mean for you, and your role as one of his followers?  These are all good things to consider, as we continue to make our way through the dark valleys of these modern times.  Amen.   

In Our End is Our Beginning

April 30^th, 2017        “In Our End is Our Beginning”     Rev. Heather Jepsen

Luke 24:13-35

          The inspiration for this morning’s sermon actually comes from the hymn that we will sing after the sermon.  You can open your hymnal and take a look at #250, “In the Bulb There Is a Flower.”  This is my favorite Easter hymn because for me it totally captures the hope of Easter.  The promise of Easter is the promise of new life.  It is the hope that lies within the darkness.  When we are in a Good Friday, Easter moments seem so far away, if not impossible.  But this hymn reminds us that when we are in our darkest places, we are actually closer to the dawn then we have ever been.

          In our scripture reading for today, the followers of the Jesus community are in a very dark place.  This is the famous road to Emmaus story, and some of Luke’s best writing.  This little vignette is rich with nuance and meaning, and many a different sermon can be derived from within these few verses.  When I was reading the text this week, I was so full of this idea of endings and beginnings, that I saw it everywhere.

          It is the same day as Easter, but the friends traveling to Emmaus are still wrapped up in Good Friday.  They are walking home from celebrating the Passover in Jerusalem and they are mulling over the events of the weekend.  Jesus, incognito, joins them along the path and they tell him the story of their sadness.  They tell him of Jesus of Nazareth, the one “we had hoped would redeem Israel.”  They speak of his death and crucifixion.  Their story is a dark one, as they are in a sad and hopeless place.  Even though they have heard a rumor of resurrection, they speak only of endings. 

          Jesus opens their minds to new understanding.  He explains to them how in the end is our beginning.  Yes, death is the story for Jesus of Nazareth, but that death is only the pathway to new life in Jesus the Christ.  Luke tells us that “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.”

          It was a long walk, seven miles, and Luke does not recount the exact Bible study that Jesus offered.  I imagine it included all the highlights about the Son of Man and the suffering servant.  But more than that, I imagine that Jesus explained that death and endings are always the place that new beginnings come from. 

          In the beginning there was chaos, then that ended and there was ordered creation.  Then there were Adam and Eve who lost a garden paradise, only to become human as we now know it.  There was the flood of Noah, bringing death to a whole generation, only to give birth to a new covenant between God and humanity.  Abraham and Sarah give up on having children of their own, only to have the blessing suddenly visited upon them when they are at a laughable old age.  Jacob, always wrestling, leaves behind family and home in sadness, to then become Israel the father of nations.  Joseph is tormented by his siblings and sold into slavery, only to rise to power in Egypt to save not only his family but his people.  The Israelites flee slavery and wander with Moses painfully in the desert, only to give birth to a new people in a Promised Land.  In the time of exile, when they fall to the Babylonians, the Israelites lose the temple but gain a greater sense of self understanding and faith identity.

          When I imagine the road to Emmaus, I imagine that this is the story that Jesus tells.  Cleopas and his friend are stuck in the place of death and it is all they can see.  Jesus shows them that the place of death, the place of change, the place of painful transition is also the place of birth.  It is the place of new life.

          Luke tells us that the travelers encouraged Jesus to stay, to stop and dine with him.  The extension of hospitality is an important part of a life of faith, and an important marker of the faith community.  As the trio dine around the table the bread is blessed and broken, and their eyes were opened and they recognize the Risen Lord.  I like to imagine that when they saw the familiar gestures and words, that the meaning suddenly became clear to them.  The bread was representative of the physical life of Jesus, the life that was given, the life that ended, to make way for a spiritual life of Jesus.  This was a death that paved the way for a new community.  In the end of the physical presence of Jesus, the “one we had hoped would redeem Israel” is the birth of the church which will bring redemption.  I imagine it was this awareness that sent the pair running back to Jerusalem to share the good news.

          I love that we celebrate Easter every year, and that the celebration lasts more than one Sunday, because I think that we need to hear this message over and over again in our lives.  In our end is our beginning.  We hate change and we hate transition.  It is always painful and frightening and awful.  And yet, we have to move through these places of darkness in our own lives, to experience the resurrection opportunities, the opportunities for new and different blessings on the other side of our suffering.

          In my own life, I have experienced this truth.  You might remember that it was the death of a loved one that started my journey to ministry.  I was so angry when God called me into ministry.  So upset to give up myself, to die to my former way of life, that I went through the early process kicking and screaming.  But I have been so richly blessed in ministry.  The death of my beloved Grandmother and my own personal death to the life I thought I would have, led me to this moment, and my life along this path is one of deep meaning and beauty.  Similarly, we experienced a loss as we left Washington State, where family and friends lived, and headed into the great unknown of Missouri.  It was a frightening faith filled jump, and we have been so richly blessed.  I would never have guessed that we would love it here so very much.  This has become the place that I belong.

          You all too, can think of stories like this.  How the loss of a job pushed us in a new direction we never even imagined.  How a painful divorce led to new personal growth and self-understanding.  How a diagnosis of illness, opened our eyes to a new way of seeing the world with peace and thanksgiving.  How the death of a loved one, opened our hearts to consider death and life in new ways.  How even a strange and scary political time, can be the birth of a renewed spirit and zeal for the causes of justice within our midst.

          Don’t misunderstand me here.  I am not saying that all of these things are blessings, or God-ordained plans for our lives.  Death, illness, divorce, job loss are all totally painful and not necessarily part of a loving God’s plan for our lives.  What I am trying to say, is that all of these moments of transition are opportunities for new birth.  I am trying to say that God is in the transition.  I am trying to say that new life can come from death, and that God is in that place with us.  In our end is our opportunity for a beginning, and if we read the scriptures we can see that it is always that way with God’s people.

          Look again at that hymn #250.  Natalie Sleeth, the composer, wrote this hymn at a time when she was "pondering the ideas of life, death, spring and winter, Good Friday and Easter, and the whole reawakening of the world that happens every spring." Inspired by a T.S. Eliot line, the germ of the hymn grew from the idea "in our end is our beginning," the phase that begins the third stanza of the hymn.  Natalie was married to a Methodist minister, and he was diagnosed with cancer shortly after the hymn was composed.  The hymn was sung at his funeral and of course at many others since.  (By the way, if you know me when I die, please make sure someone puts this hymn in my funeral service.)

          Natalie has written something brilliant here as it beautifully explores the end and beginning cycle that we see in nature, faith, and even in our own death. 

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;

in cocoons a hidden promise; butterflies will soon be free!

In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,

unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;

there’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.

From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,

unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;

in our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity.

In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,

unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

          I love that she lists all these moments of promise, but allows that we will not necessarily notice or recognize that promise.  That it is God alone who sees the big picture.

          On the road to Emmaus that Easter day, I imagine that Jesus explained all this to his friends as they walked along.  While they were in a place of death and disappointment, he explained to them that they were actually on the cusp of new birth and new life.  Throughout the scriptures, God has always operated in this way; bringing untold hope and blessings out of our tales of suffering and misery. 

          I hope this morning that you can see this too.  I hope that you can look back in your life and notice those places where it was darkest just before the dawn.  And I hope that if you are in a place of darkness right now, that you can find comfort in the knowledge that God enters that darkness with you, and that there will be some form of new life on the other side.

          In our end is our beginning.  That is the hopeful message of Easter that we continue to celebrate this day.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.