“Abide in Me as I Abide in You”

Meditation on John 15:1-8

May 6, 2012

 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the Vinegrower. He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.

      You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.

     I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.

       If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. (John 15: 1-8)

     Nathan was around 12 or 13 when he became my piano student. I met Nathan’s mother through a local homeschooling group.  She had about 8 children; most of them, like Nathan, were adopted.

    And most of them, including Nathan, had special needs.

     I was teaching piano because another homeschooling neighbor asked me to teach her daughters. I was in no way a qualified piano teacher, but, when she kept asking me, I decided I would give it a try. I had no idea if I could do it or not.

    Word got around, and before long, I had 12 students—including Nathan’s younger sister.  It was a challenge for me because I was learning how to do it as I went along. I was also homeschooling Joshua and Jacob and caring for my youngest, James, who was about 2.

    But I always looked forward to lessons with Nathan.  He was different than all of the other students.  He could sit down at the keyboard and play songs he had heard—complicated songs. He was even composing.  But he couldn’t read music. And Nathan had some learning difficulties.

    Adding to the challenge was that he didn’t want to learn to play the traditional way—starting with scales and learning the notes and so forth—like most piano teachers do. 

      That was boring.

     But Nathan wanted to play, and his amazing, loving, patient mother recognized his passion. She asked me to work with him.

    At our first lesson, I asked him, “What kind of music do you like?” Turned out, he liked pop, showtunes, and jazz.  Forget “Kumbaya,” “Go Tell Aunt Rhody,” or “Michael Row Your Boat.”  He wanted to play songs from Broadway’s Phantom of the Opera or Cats.

    His first assignment was to find a song he wanted to learn and bring the sheet music to class. I would teach him how to read music using that song. And we would build his skills from there.  

    He brought “The Entertainer.” The Scott Joplin rag was the theme song from the movie The Sting, starring Robert Redford and Paul Newman. He could play it already, without looking at the music.  But that didn’t matter.  I could tell when he wasn’t reading music because he would leave out notes or add notes that weren’t on the page. 

     We’d laugh about it.  And I would show him where to place his hands—which keys corresponded with the black scribbles on the page.

    He mastered an easy version of “The Entertainer.”  Then he brought in a more difficult version.  He mastered that.  Then I introduced him to other music by Scott Joplin, such as Maple Leaf Rag.

    He mastered all those, too. And he was actually reading the music, though he would sometimes add new intros or change the ending—making it more dramatic. 

    He definitely had a gift.

    I was sad when, after 2 years, my piano teaching days with Nathan came to an end. We were moving from Maryland to Pennsylvania.

     But Nathan, at that point, was ready for a real piano teacher.

     Being Nathan’s piano teacher was the beginning of something new for me.  It was the first time I would take a risk—and venture to do a job I didn’t know how to do.  I would do that again when I became a journalist. And here I am with you now, still learning how to be a pastor.  

      Being Nathan’s teacher taught me how to help others find and develop their gifts. And I learned that I liked doing that. But it also revealed to me a weakness in myself—that I only liked trying something new if I thought I could do it well. I didn’t have enough confidence in the Lord as my guide and teacher. I was afraid to fail. The Lord needed to cut that part of my character away. Chop it off, if I were to bear spiritual fruit for Him! 

    I had to learn to be a risk taker, to do the uncomfortable thing if it meant serving the Lord with all of my being.  I had to learn to trust Him and His power to work through me—or else I would never be able to be the person God wanted me to be.

***

    Christ gives us the image of the Church as a vineyard in today’s gospel. We are connected to God, our heavenly Vinegrower, in Christ, who is the True Vine. We are His branches. The Vinegrower prunes us all, according to what He has planned for us—the shape of our character, works, and lives.  No one escapes those pruning shears!

     God cuts away at us—removing parts of our character and things in our lives that get in the way of us bearing good fruit. Don’t be alarmed when the Vinegrower starts His pruning work in you.  Expect this as part of your faith journey.

    And don’t be dismayed when our Vinegrower removes branches that DO bear good fruit. This is part of our faith journeys, too, so we will bear MORE good fruit.

     Friends, the Lord promises that if we abide in Him, He will abide in us and we will bear MUCH fruit. 

    But if we fail to abide in Him, we are incapable of good works. 

    Jesus says, “Apart from me, you can do nothing.”

 ***

     Out of the blue, I received a letter and photograph from my former piano student who had captured my heart.

       The boy I had known had become a handsome young man, graduating from high school, like Rachel and Maya this month.

     My eyes filled with tears as I read how he had continued with piano and voice lessons.  He was headed to college to study music. And he was thinking of me. He thanked me for helping him, for encouraging him.

    Nathan is now a professional singer/actor and dancer. He has performed in many Christian and secular productions. What impresses me most is that his long list of credits includes mission work in Africa.

   He thought it was cool I was studying to be a pastor. I thought it was cool he remembered me!

   I will never forget Nathan. He showed me how to follow the passion God has placed inside of us, even when there are challenges to overcome. 
   God will make a way for us to do what He wants us to do, to do what we are passionate about.  He will bring the right people into our lives to help us along the way.

   I pray that our graduates, Rachel and Maya, will trust that God will do the same for them.

   And may we all learn to trust that Christ abides in each one of us, always, as we abide in Him.

 Let us pray.  Heavenly Vinegrower, thank you for giving us The True Vine, Jesus Christ, to make a way for us to be reconciled with you.  Thank you for forgiving us for our sins and doing your pruning work in us for Your glory.  Give us courage and patience for when we need to do things that make us uncomfortable, things we aren’t sure we know how to do, and things we aren’t sure we will be able to do.  Help us to submit to Your Will for our lives and trust that You will give us everything we need to do whatever You ask—including help from other people.  Teach us how to abide in You as you abide in us.  In Christ we pray.  Amen.  

"And I lay down my life for the sheep"

    Meditation on John 10:11-18

Sunday April 29, 2012

    “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep.

      I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.

     For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.” (John 10:11-18)

   ***

    The first time I visited a dairy farm, I didn’t have the right shoes.

    The family I was visiting graciously loaned me a pair of tall, black rubber boots. 

    Then I proceeded to get stuck in ferocious mud as we walked about the farm, viewing new, state of the art buildings with machines that would make milking and feeding faster, easier and more efficient.

    I stood in the mud and cried out softly when I could no longer lift my feet and remain inside the rubber boots.

      My guide lifted me easily out of the mud, boots still attached, as if I were a shovel she was preparing to use.  She chuckled softly as she steered me to drier ground and continued her description of life on their farm.  

    A busy life.  A hard life.  An exhausting life. But a satisfying life for this family, most of the time.

    I had just begun my full time parish internship in a small church in a rural community. I had spent most of my life in suburban settings, so I had a lot to learn about the people I had come to serve.

    They kindly agreed to my visit so that I could understand. They even fed me a dinner of pork roast, creamed corn baked in the oven, onion potatoes, and bread.  And yes, it was the noon meal.

    I want you to know that I have changed their names to respect their privacy.

    Sarah’s father, Jack, owned a good-sized dairy farm—around 100 head or more. They also grew some crops, including corn.  Sarah’s life was taken up with caring for the farm and feeding those who worked on the farm—a few hired hands but mostly family members.

     Sarah’s husband, John, also came from a local farming family, though he and his brother farmed crops.  It wasn’t the same life as the constant, year-round demands of dairy cows.  But it seemed to suit him well.

    Sarah and John had one child—a son.  He was around 14 or 15 when I met him. He was being trained up to continue the family business.

    Sarah’s father had expanded the farm in recent years—adding cattle and the new cattle buildings.  Jack told me it was the only way he could stay in business and support all the family.  The machinery meant that fewer people were required to do the work. And of course, more cows meant more milk and more calves.

   But even with new technology, there was still more than enough work to do! They were still working when I left in the evening.  The darkness did not slow them down. 

    As I made the 20-mile drive back to our home, I thought about all that I had heard and seen.

     How did Sarah do it all?

     Somehow, she found additional time for many projects—such as making furniture or stripping wallpaper and painting the old, family home in which they lived. 

    Somehow, homework got done, as did shopping, cooking, cleaning, and laundry.  And they rarely if ever missed a Sunday morning worship service.  Their son always came to Sunday school.

    Compared to my more sedentary, comfortable life, hers seemed overwhelming.

    I asked why they did not have more hired hands to help.

   She gave me a list of reasons, including the high cost. They would have to pay benefits and Social Security for every worker. And then it is difficult to find workers. Fewer people grow up on farms nowadays and not many know the work and have experience. Also, few are interested in learning it—especially for the pay they would receive—a great deal less than many jobs offer.

    But it wasn’t just money and a shortage of qualified people that kept the family from hiring more workers.  What it came down to was hired hands wouldn’t have the same loyalty or work ethic. They might not work as hard or as long as a family member—an owner—who is motivated to learn and do all they can to make the farm as productive as possible and to ensure that the farm would continue to provide for the family for generations to come.

     Most of all, a hired hand wouldn’t care about the animals like family would. 

     A family member would stay up all night if a calf was being born and the mother was in trouble.  They would grieve the suffering and loss of one cow—many of whom they had nurtured since birth.     

    Would a hired hand do that?

***

    Jesus, in our gospel today, calls Himself the Good Shepherd. We—His followers—are His sheep. This is an image in which we are familiar.  And we find this image of Jesus very comforting.

     Jesus compares His care for His flock to that of a hired hand who, when the wolf comes, takes off!! The hired hand looks after his own wellbeing. If he is in danger, the hired hand abandons the flock to be snatched and scattered, torn and devoured.

     Not the Good Shepherd.  He stays, protects, and defends His sheep. Why?  Because the sheep belong to Him, and they have a long relationship of trust and care.

      The shepherd for His sheep. The sheep for their shepherd. 

     “I know my own sheep,” Jesus says. “And my own know me.”

      The hired hand in the story is the world that pretends to care for us—only the world takes care of itself.  There is only one in whom we can rely.

     And He isn’t of this world, though He is here, in this world, with us always.

     Christ tells the Pharisees and His disciples about the other sheep who are not of “this fold,” but still belong to Him. They will hear His voice, He says. His flock that began with the children of Israel will widen to include people of every nation. The Jewish Messiah is to become the Lord, the shepherd, of all. 

    One flock.  One shepherd.

   The Good Shepherd is the only one to obediently conform His Will to His heavenly Father’s Will, though it will cost Him everything. 

     But dying for us is His choice.

   “As the Father knows Me,” Jesus says, “even so I know the Father, and I lay down my life for the sheep…”

***

    Friends, we can trust in the one who cares about us with a love that isn’t fleeting and unreliable—not like what the world offers.  

    The Lord will never give up on us! He is ready to forgive us for all our failures, for every time we chase after something in the world and find that it leaves us feeling empty inside.

     Seek the One who would grieve the suffering and loss of one sheep. Just one! You are that valuable to God!

     He has known you since before you were born. He has plans for You.

     His Spirit will strengthen, comfort and guide you along your journey of faith. He will carry you into eternity with Him.

    Let us trust in Him, who has done what He promised to do, when He said,

   “I am the Good Shepherd and I lay down my life for the sheep.”

***

Will you pray with me?  Holy God, thank you for Your Son, Jesus Christ, who is our Good Shepherd. Thank you for His example of obedience to You and His willingness to give His life for our sakes. Thank you for your love and abiding presence with us. Guide and strengthen us so that we won’t neglect our calling to follow our Good Shepherd, going where you want us to go and doing what You require. Open our ears to hear only Your voice and keep us from straying onto the wrong path. Use us to be Christ’s presence for other people, and to love, serve, and forgive for His sake. In Christ we pray. Amen.

“Have You Got Anything to Eat?”

    “While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’ And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence. 

      Then he said to them, ‘These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.” (Luke 24:36-48, NRSV)

***
 
Sermon for the 3^rd Sunday of Easter

Meditation on Luke 24:36-48

      So Jim and I are at the Super Walmart the other day buying yogurt, cottage cheese and popsicles—staples in our house.  And I say to Jim,  “Do you have everything you need to make our meal for church on Sunday?”

     And he says, “No, come to think of it.”

    “We”—and I say this emphasizing the quotes around the “we”—needed Ziti and mozzarella cheese.

     It was understood that Jim would be preparing the meal we would take to church, without needing to discuss it.  It’s no secret that I would rather be doing almost anything BUT cooking—and, amazingly, Jim married me anyway!

     One of the first things I learned when I moved to Minnesota to be your pastor is that you have to know the language and etiquette of food and eating.  I knew what a potluck was because that is what churches out East have all the time—but Marylynn and Ken Aalderks warned me that someone may mention a “hot dish.” 

    “What’s a ‘hot dish’?”  I asked.

    “A casserole,” Marylynn said. “Or a potluck dinner.”

     After that, I decided I liked the sound of “hot dish” and would adopt it as my new expression. “Potluck” kind of sounds like we are relying on luck for the food to turn out OK. Luck can be good and it can be bad—especially if I am the cook! “Hot Dish” sounds more like comfort food on a cold winter’s day.  Yes, I liked the sound of it.

     Knowing I needed all the help I could get, Marylynn and Ken brought me a cookbook called, “The Great Minnesota Hot Dish.” It has such treasures as “Hue’s Ham-Corn Hot Dish,” “Tater Tot Hot Dish,” and “Ham-Potatoes Hot Dish.”  I was on my way!

    I gave the book to Jim.

    Soon we will know everything we need to know about Minnesota food language and etiquette.  Pretty soon everyone will think we are natives.

    Now if only I can figure out what lunch is and what time you are supposed to eat it….

***

     Well, Jesus and His disciples didn’t have hot dishes or potlucks—not exactly.  But they did share very simple meals together. They weren’t that picky about what they ate—and this came to the attention of the Pharisees, who criticized them for not always obeying the dietary and purity laws.

     I think it was like this.  They got hungry.  They found food or were offered it.  Jesus gave thanks to the Lord. And they ate.

      Sometimes they were blessed by the hospitality of strangers or fed by Christ's friends—such as when Mary and Martha had them over to their house for dinner. That was the time when Martha was stuck in the kitchen grumbling, doing all the work, and Mary was sitting at Jesus’ feet, hanging on His every word.

       They were not wealthy, and they did not have money for fancy ingredients. They did not have servants to shop for them and prepare their meals.  They didn’t stay in one place for very long on their missionary journeys.  And they often didn’t stop to eat while they were busy with ministry until it was very late in the day—as people flocked to Jesus seeking healing. So when they finally got around to eating, they were exhausted as well as hungry. Who would feel like cooking, then?

    A typical meal might have been a little bread.  A little wine or water.  And a little fish, if they had managed to catch any that day.

    But although the meals were simple—they were intimate and often emotional.  Jesus taught His disciples about God, ministry, and the heavenly kingdom during and after they ate.  He shared with them His heart and soul.  Think of the emotion of His Last Supper on the night before He was arrested, when Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and was saying goodbye to them as He gave to each one, saying, “This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

    Our gospel passage today follows the walk to Emmaus, when two of his disciples are with the risen Jesus, talking about Him, and are totally unaware of His presence.  They don’t realize it is He until Jesus blesses the bread, breaks it and gives it to them—and their eyes are opened! 

    And then …. He vanishes into thin air!

    Excitedly, they go to Jerusalem and gather the other disciples to tell them the Lord has been raised from the dead!

    And that is where today’s gospel begins.  As they are talking, Jesus suddenly appears and says, “Peace be with you.”  But they are scared to death and think they are seeing a ghost.

     Christ, who knows the hearts and minds of every human being, asks,  “Why do doubts arise in your hearts?”

    He shows them the wounds from where they nailed His hands and feet to the cross. He says, “Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones.”

     Then, while the disciples are both joyful and disbelieving, Jesus asks them, as if it is like old times, “Have you got anything to eat?”

    And they sit down together and have a simple meal. A little broiled fish.

    It must have seemed like a feast to those who loved Him so and thought He was gone from them forever!

     And just like old times, Jesus begins to teach them. He opens their minds to the Scriptures. He says that now that the prophecy of the Messiah suffering, dying, and being raised has come true, repentance and forgiveness must be proclaimed in His name to all the nations. 

    He is saying to them, “This is your job, all of you” when he tells them that they are His witnesses. He is saying goodbye again before He ascends into heaven. But before He leaves, He will promise to clothe them with power from on high—the Holy Spirit. And He will assure them that He is coming back.

***

      Today, we will gather after worship for our hot dish dinner. And Jesus will be with us in Spirit, as He is whenever we gather in His name. It is fitting that we will learn about the Nicaragua mission after our simple meal, just as Jesus taught His disciples about ministry and life in His kingdom during and after their meals.

      Jerry and Liza will share their experiences when they traveled with Marylynn and the others to share Christ’s love by providing medical care and food to people who live with poverty and hunger we cannot imagine.

      We will be reminded of Christ’s compassionate command to His followers to proclaim repentance and forgiveness to all the nations. 

       Christ is saying to us, “This is Your job…  All of you...

       Because you are My witnesses.”

Please join me in prayer.  Holy God, thank you for the resources and opportunities you have provided our church so we may serve You by helping needy people around the world.  Thank you for the passion, kindness, and enthusiasm of your servant Marylynn Aalderks, who stirred us to action, made the arrangements, and took responsibility for those who joined her on this mission of love.  Lord, bring us more mission opportunities. Tell us when and whom you want us to serve. Show us how. Give us the talents, energy, generosity, confidence, compassion, patience and passion we need to bring Your love, forgiveness, and hope to a hurting world. Open our eyes to Your presence and Your vision of salvation. Guide our footsteps as you teach us like babies learning to walk. Help us to be your faithful, obedient servants, more like your Son, Jesus Christ.  In His name we pray.  Amen. 

“I go to prepare a place for you…”

Meditation for April 15, 2012

Second Sunday of Easter: John 14:1-7

     Sometimes people count sheep when they can’t sleep.

    The other night, when I woke up and had trouble going back to sleep, I tried to count how many places I have lived.

    Let’s see now, before moving to Renville, we lived in a house in York Township, Pennsylvania, for 7 years.  For 2 years of that time, I also lived in an apartment in Princeton, New Jersey, when I attended seminary.

     Before the house in York Township, we lived in two apartments. 

     Before that, a home in Jacobus, Pennsylvania, for 7 years.

     Before that, a townhome in Bel Air, Maryland, for 6 years.

     And before that, 2 apartments in Baltimore. 

    That takes us to 1988. 

     I went back to sleep before I figured out how many times I moved in the 1980s, when I graduated high school, went to college, and got married.  Rough estimate?  Probably 8 different places.

      Thoughts of these moves bring back emotions associated with the life events that triggered the moves.  I remember the sense of relief to move into a tiny apartment with my three young boys when I was a newly divorced mom. My children and I were happy to find a place where we could recover and heal from the emotional brokenness we felt.  

      We worried there wouldn’t be a nice place for us again as we left a comfortable single family home, a far cry from the crowded, 5-room apartment in which the two youngest boys shared a room the size of a walk-in closet and my eldest slept in the dining room. But in 2004, the Lord provided us with another place—a home that was at least as nice as the home we gave up. This was where we lived when I met Jim. We married in 2005. 

      I felt I was finally in the place where God wanted me—we were altogether as a family in a dwelling that really felt like home.

      I hoped we would be there forever, but it wasn’t to be.  The Lord had another place and another life He had been preparing for us. And we are happy to be here with you now.

      And though I would rather stay in one place and never move again, there may be more changes in the future. God will position us where He can best use us for His work. I have accepted this with His call to ministry.

       But the truth is, there is no forever home on earth for Christians.

***

      In today’s gospel, Jesus reassures his disciples that when He leaves them to go and be with God, they will be OK.  Their separation when He dies will only be temporary. 

     Every time he brings up the subject of His death, the disciples are too emotional to listen and understand.

    Jesus says, “Don’t be upset! Do not let your hearts be troubled.” 

    All He has taught them about Himself and God will be enough to continue their life of faith and ministry on earth, until they join Him in the world to come.

    Then Jesus shares a vision of heaven with them.

    He says, “In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places” or “many rooms,” as some translations say. 

    They can trust His word, Jesus says, because if it weren’t true, would He have said it?  Of course not!

    He tells them, “I go to prepare a place for you.  And if I do this—and I will—I will come back and get you and bring you to where I will be.”

***

     Going to live with God in heaven after we die is something we first accept as a reality when we are young Christians.  And then, as the years pass and we grow nearer to Him in our journey of faith, we take comfort that our struggles here will eventually end and we will go to be with Him.

      But what do Jesus’ words, “I go to prepare a place for you” mean for us today?

     One important idea is that His “going to prepare a place for us” is the means for our salvation. Jesus needed to die and be the first one to be raised from the dead and go to be with God to show us the way—and to make a way for us to be with Him. Christ was God’s sacrifice for the sins of all humanity, making ready salvation for those who believe on Him.  This is what Jesus means when He says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.”

      Another important point we can learn from Jesus’ talk of going to prepare a place for us is that, though His saving work is finished with His death and resurrection, the salvation story isn’t over. Jesus is still waiting for us and getting things ready!

       Like the bridegroom who longs to be reunited with His beloved bride, Christ has gone ahead to make sure that everything is perfect for our life together in the next world.  He wants His bride to have everything she needs and all that her heart desires. He wants her to be pleased with their home and with Him.  He wants her to be happy!

    And He is so in love with His bride, He stretches out His arms wide, preparing to hold her in His embrace, as soon as they are together, face to face.

    But He isn’t going to wait in heaven for His bride to come to Him.

    Jesus says, “And if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”

   And there is one final point I want you to take with you today.

   We have heard this verse so many times as Christians that many of us have it memorized. But do you know what it means? Have you learned to trust Him, yet?  Have you learned to walk by faith—in Him?

     Jesus, after telling His disciples that He will return for them, adds, “And you know the way to the place I am going.”

     And Thomas, always one for honesty and skepticism, bursts out, “No, we don’t! Lord we don’t know where you are going.  So how can we know the way?”

      Jesus’ answer?

      I am.

      I am the way.

     “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

Let us pray. 

      Merciful and Gracious God, thank you for making a way for us to come to you in Jesus Christ.  Thank you for your message of love to us in your Word.  You love the world—that’s why Jesus came and died for us!  You long for us to come and be with you in the kingdom of heaven.  Thank you that you are also with us now, in our earthly dwelling place, guiding and strengthening us with your Word and Spirit and never leaving us on our own.  Give us the faith that Christ spoke of to His disciples—a faith that will carry us through our years in this temporary living space, when life is ever changing, unsettling, and frightening, at times.  Grant us a vision for your kingdom of peace, where we will joyfully dwell with you in your house of many rooms forever, worshiping you all of our days.  In Christ we pray.  Amen.

“King on a Donkey”

Sermon for Palm Sunday 2012

Meditation on Mark 11:1-11

       We are walking the dusty road with Jesus and His disciples in our gospel lesson today. They are headed toward Jerusalem to celebrate the Holy Festival of Passover. 

       Their last stop was in Jericho, where Joshua had so long before led a battle for the Lord, and Jesus more recently had healed a blind beggar in the streets.

       Between Jericho and Jerusalem is only about a dozen miles. But the walk is a steep, rocky climb—desert most of the way.  Jericho, at 800 feet below sea level, is the lowest city on earth. Jerusalem is nearly 3,000 feet above sea level.

       Before Jesus and his disciples reach the Holy City, they rest on the top of the Mount of Olives, where desert gives way to green vegetation. Jesus sends two of his disciples ahead to a village to fetch a colt.

      We assume this colt is a donkey because the gospel of Matthew fills in that detail, as does Zechariah the prophet in our reading today. 

       This donkey has never been ridden and has no saddle.  The disciples throw their cloaks over the animal’s back. Jesus climbs on.

       What scholars call Christ’s Triumphal Entry begins.

       It is a kind of royal procession, on a small scale.

       People see Jesus coming. They rush out to him, remove their cloaks and spread them on the ground in front of him. Others pick branches from the trees and gather straw from the fields to wave jubilantly.

      They cry out, “Hosanna!” a Hebrew word from a prayer asking the Lord to “Come quickly! Save us now!”

      They shout, “Blessed or welcome is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!”

       Jesus enters the Holy City.  King on a donkey. 

       This king of heaven is unlike any worldly king. No weapons display or show of military force. No colors blazing on banners held high; no drums rumbling or trumpets sounding.

        No other king would come so quietly, so peacefully, so humbly. Christ’s kingdom is like none on earth we know.   

        The triumphal entry ends in almost an anticlimax. A letdown.

        Jesus rides in, goes to the temple, looks around.  And because the hour is late, he heads right back out of the city again—to the village of Bethany, where he will stay with his disciples during the few days leading up to the Passover.

       Mark leaves us hanging as to what will happen now that Jesus has made His presence known in Jerusalem.

***

        Today, on Palm Sunday, when we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry and begin our first day of Holy Week, we also welcome five young women into membership in our church. 

       All five have been coming to Ebenezer since they were babies in their families’ arms.  They were baptized here.

     When they were baptized, their parents and everyone in this church vowed to nurture them in the Lord and help them—and their parents—along their journey of faith.

      These five have now completed confirmation. Last Sunday, each shared their faith statements with their parents, mentors, pastor, and members of session. 

     But their journey of faith has just begun.  They have a lifetime of spiritual growth and learning ahead of them. They will need your encouragement more than ever in the next few weeks, months and years, when it may seem like a kind of an anticlimax or a letdown to them.

     For all of their lives, they have participated in a structured Christian education program with specific goals, some of which they have now achieved.

     Today there is excitement and joy, celebrating their decision to follow Christ through service in this church and their completion of the program. There will be prayers and hugs, cards and presents, and parties with cake and relatives and friends.

     And then tomorrow will come. And next Sunday.  And the next.

    What will happen, then?

    Ebenezer has no structured program for confirmation graduates. We have no senior high class or weekly youth group.  No adults have come forward—not yet, anyway—expressing interest in leading such a class or group.

     These five are urged, of course, to attend adult Bible studies and Sunday school classes, and stay involved with mission and outreach. All have expressed interest in helping out with the children’s programs, including Vacation Bible School.

      But will they be motivated, without a structured program, to come to church every week?

      Will they, like some of our teens and young adults have done in the past, start to drift away...?

      They will have to make choices, with our help.  And they will choose to follow Christ with all their hearts. Or they will choose to chase after the activities, friendships, and feel-good rewards the world has to offer, leaving them little or no time to pursue the things of God’s kingdom, which is like nothing else on earth.

      What happens in their lives of faith from here on out depends on them and whether their faith statements and commitment to serving Jesus Christ and loving others are real or simply words spoken to please other people.

       What happens in their lives of faith also depends on all of us. Is our faith and commitment to serving Christ and loving others real?

      Let us care enough about our young people to demonstrate the gospel to them through our own lives, words, and journeys of faith.

      Let us remember to pray for them, reach out to them, and hold them to the responsibilities that go along with membership in the Body of Christ.

      Let us have the courage, then, to walk as our humble king would have us walk—as individuals and as a church. 

***      

       Our gospel lesson reveals to us a day in the life of Christ that was joyful and triumphant. But the triumph is bittersweet.  The joy is fleeting.

     Mark hasn’t really left us hanging.  We know what’s coming. In a matter of days, Jesus will be scorned and rejected. Abandoned by those who welcomed Him at Jerusalem’s gates.  Abandoned by his own frightened disciples.

       There will be no donkey for our humble king to ride and no cloaks laid on his path on the way to His crucifixion. He will have no garments of splendor to wear—only a cruel crown of thorns.

       There will be no waving branches, no royal procession—not even a small one.

       No cries of “Hosanna!  Come, Lord! Save us now!”

Will you pray with me? 

      Merciful Lord, forgive us when we have taken your work on the cross, your love, suffering, and sacrifice for our sakes, for granted.  Send your Holy Spirit to strengthen us to do your good works and obey your will.  Help us to love and nurture these five young ladies and the other young people of the church so they will have a faith to carry them throughout their lives.  Keep them strong in Spirit and committed to serving You. Give them hearts of compassion for the needy and a desire to take the gospel out through loving words and kind deeds. Protect them from discouragement and apathy.  Keep the evil one and his temptations away.  Thank you for your love and your forgiveness through your Son, Jesus Christ.  In His name we pray.  Amen.