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Finding Hope Together Spencer C. Lawrence, Church of the Cross, Hoffman Estates, IL, April 22, 2007 Thirty-three people died in Blacksburg, Virginia. Thirty-two victims and one murderer. They were all either college students or college professors. The shootings occurred on Monday. On Tuesday, before much was known about what had actually happened, the Virginia Tech community gathered for a memorial service. University officials spoke as did the president of the United States along with area clergy. All week TV cameras showed scenes of students gathered together, weeping, hugging, attempting to comfort one another. Many of those same students packed up their things and returned home to family and friends for the weekend. There is something about being with those we trust and love that helps us deal with tragedy. We sense intuitively that it is through community that new hope is born. Two of Jesus’ followers learned the importance of community in finding hope. It was while they were together that they met the risen Jesus. They were walking the road to the village of Emmaus about seven miles northwest of Jerusalem. As they moved slowly down the dusty lane in the late afternoon sun they remembered with a grim smile how the people had greeted Jesus on Palm Sunday. They laughed briefly as they recalled the way he had debated the religious authorities. Then there was the secret meal with the Twelve. Surely something was up. But then Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, mockery of a trial and execution at the hands of the Romans. And it was all over before it really got started. In one way this wasn’t much of a surprise. It was how the Romans had always dealt with those who had claimed to be the Messiah. On the other hand, they had believed there was something different about Jesus. But now they guessed not. As they walked along they spoke of dashed hopes and broken dreams. Their eyes were swollen and red. Their pace was measured. Occasionally they stared wistfully into space thinking about what might have been, what they had hoped would be, but now would certainly not be. As they plodded along a stranger caught up with them. He could tell they were distressed, and he asked them what they were talking about so earnestly. They were glad to have someone else to share their grief with, so they began telling him about Jesus whom they had thought would be the Messiah. They told about his miracles, his encounters with the authorities, and his tragic end on the cross. They also told how some of the women had visited the tomb where he’d been buried and came back saying that the tomb was empty. How could someone rob the grave of that good man? They were quietly amazed that the stranger had been in Jerusalem, but hadn’t heard any of this. His ignorance only deepened their sorrow. Their companion was equally amazed at their ignorance. He began to teach them from the Scripture about how, contrary to prevailing opinion, the Messiah was actually supposed to die and then rise again. All of this was part of God’s plan. The two disciples were intrigued to say the least. They listened eagerly as he continued to talk. The walk home went more quickly than they had anticipated, and before long they were near their village. It was growing dark and the hospitable thing to do – the very thing they were eager to do – was to invite their companion to dinner and then stay the night. He agreed. When dinner was served, they asked him to offer thanks for the bread. He did. When he broke the bread, they recognized him. Their traveling companion was no stranger. It was Jesus himself – risen from the dead, just as he had taught them. Then he disappeared from their sight. They were staggered by the revelation. They immediately packed up a few belongings and even though it was night, they headed back to Jerusalem to tell the others. On the way they remembered together how their hearts had burned within them as they listened to Jesus teach them. When they arrived at where the rest of Jesus’ disciples were they told them what had happened. Peter reported that he had seen the risen Jesus, too. Together they came to believe that Jesus really was alive. Together they discovered hope again. Now this is not to say that God never deals with us as individuals. That it’s only in the community that God speaks to us. Not at all. God does speak to us as individuals. Jesus revealed himself to Mary Magdalene. He also showed himself to Peter. Jesus has made himself known to countless individuals throughout history. But more often than not, Jesus reveals himself in the midst of community. He shows himself in the context of a fellowship. Last week Dawn spoke to you about Thomas. Thomas had trouble believing that Jesus had risen from the dead. Even though the rest had seen him and repeatedly told Thomas what they had seen and heard, he wouldn’t buy it. One of the interesting things about Thomas was that even though he struggled with believing he never left his friends. Sure he was away some of the time, but he never completely pulled away from that little band of Jesus-followers – even after they had seen Jesus and he hadn’t. And when Jesus met him, it was when he was with the others. It was in the context of the community that the risen Jesus became real to him. One thing that was important for me in coming to a faith that endured was a Christian community. It was in the midst of other young people that I knelt early one evening and recommitted my life to Jesus Christ. It was through the support of those same young people in our youth group in the Methodist church that my faith grew. Not only did I need to sense that God welcomed me, I needed to feel that I belonged. When I was a student at the University of Illinois struggling with lots of questions it was a small band of Christians who both challenged me and helped me. Since then, over the years, the Christian community has helped me find hope when it seemed far away. But it’s not just hanging out with a bunch of believers that makes a difference. That helps, of course. Just knowing you are around people who believe can be a source of encouragement. But a lively faith doesn’t come by osmosis. It doesn’t come alive without our consent. The experience of the two lonely walkers to Emmaus is helpful is seeing how faith can come alive. One thing that was important is that they talked freely with Jesus about their loss. They described in great detail what they had been through, what they had experienced, what they were feeling. They had nothing much to offer – just their neediness. They had no faith, just doubts and questions and confusion. And they were willing to talk to anyone about it. I don’t know about you, but I find it really encouraging. It’s hopeful to know that Jesus is willing to listen to us even if we don’t believe in him very much. That he is willing to listen even if we have more doubts than faith. That he is willing to listen to our questions. That he will pay attention when we ask why things like the shooting at Virginia Tech happened. It’s encouraging to hear that he is not at all shocked the way our friends and family might me. In fact, he invites us to keep on talking. Martin Luther once counseled a man struggling for spiritual certainty to “cry out to heaven. Do not leave off even if the law is distasteful to you and you think your prayers are unavailing or cold.” Why? Because God is more willing to listen to us than we are to talk to God. Faith begins to come alive when we can be honest with our questions and doubts, when we can offer them to God with the help of others. One of the implications for the church – this church – is that we become a place that can live with people’s uncertainties. That we become a place where we can talk about our questions. Not that we wallow in them. Not that we give way to them or be overcome by them, but that we can talk about them together, search for answers together and pray for one another. It would mean that instead of always trying to find a quick answer to someone’s dilemma that we take the time to graciously listen to her question before we respond. And if we really don’t have an answer readily admit it. Trying to explain why a young man could randomly kill his classmates defies logic. Trying to explain how such evil can occur is beyond our ability. The church needs to be a safe haven for those who struggle with hard questions. The Emmaus pair also listened to Jesus. They listened as he explained Scripture to them. They didn’t ask him for his credentials: “How do you know all this?” “Are you a Rabbi?” They simply continued walking and listening. They listened as he explained that the Messiah was really supposed to be a suffering servant. They listened as Jesus spoke to them of One who was the bear the sins of many. They had their doubts and questions, but when Jesus began speaking from holy writ they silenced their fears and listened. Things haven’t changed much. Whatever our fears, whatever our doubts, whatever our questions, the way to finding answers is by listening to Jesus. Of course, Jesus doesn’t speak audibly to us these days. Often Jesus speaks to us in silence. If we turn off the television or the radio, if we put down the paper and listen in silence we may hear him speaking in our minds, in our hearts, in our consciences. Sometimes I wonder whether the reason we Americans watch so much television, spend so much time in front of our computer screens, or constantly listen to the radio is that we’re afraid to be alone. Perhaps afraid of discovering who we are or maybe afraid of meeting God. Yet, it is in that quietness – even if we are with others – that Jesus can speak to us. That’s why we give you opportunities to listen quietly to God in worship. We recognize that God often speaks in ways that we don’t expect. And, of course, Jesus speaks to us through Scripture. He speaks when we are alone. He speaks even more clearly when we are with others. It’s when two or three are gathered in his name that Jesus is more surely present. He is there when we read Scripture with each other. When we talk about it together. Jesus speaks to us on Sunday mornings when we read the Bible from the pulpit. He speaks when the preacher – whoever it may be – tries to explain it and apply it to our lives. I know that may sound self-serving and could unduly exalt the role of the preacher, but that’s what we Presbyterians believe is happening. The church – this church – needs to be place where people can listen to Jesus. Where we are encouraged to pay attention to the still, small voice of God speaking in our hearts. Where Scripture is honored as the primary way God speaks to us. Where we are encouraged to listen to Jesus as he tells us of the love that moved him to overcome sin and death for our sakes. Where we can hear of God’s willingness to forgive us – no matter what we’ve done, and begin to make us new people. Where we can hear Jesus reminding us of his victory over death – even death that comes violently at the hands of a disordered mind. Finally, the Emmaus walkers invited Jesus into their home. As I mentioned earlier, it was partly cultural. You just didn’t leave travelers to fend for themselves at night. It was partly because what he had said intrigued them so. As they sat down to eat together they recognized Jesus. Everything clicked. The penny dropped. The light bulb went on. Hope was born. Then they ran to tell the other disciples. We can invite Jesus spiritually into our lives, into our families, into our homes, but we can’t really invite him to eat with us. But it was in eating and drinking with Jesus that their faith came alive. So are we at a disadvantage because Jesus can’t come to our homes for dinner? Not really. You see, the good news is that while Jesus can’t eat with us, we can eat with him. That’s what the Lord’s Supper is all about – eating and drinking with Jesus. And in the eating and drinking the little bit of food and the little cup of juice, we welcome the new life that God offers us in Christ. We can live in hope regardless of what tragic event may lurk around the next corner of our lives. As we eat and drink we recall that we are safe in Jesus’ strong hands. But there’s more. You see, there is a way we can invite Jesus to eat with us. We invite Jesus to eat with us when we invite the sorrowful and the poor and the sick and the thirsty and, yes, even the imprisoned to join us for dinner. Jesus made clear (Matthew 25: 31 – 46) that when we welcome the least we also welcome him. It’s risky sometimes. When you invite someone like this, you don’t always know who’s coming to dinner. But believing that Jesus meets us in the least helps us remember that he is never very far from us. And when we show love to the least we show love to him, who in turn reassures us of his love. It is with others that Jesus typically meets us. It is with others that we normally find the life of God. It is with others that we meet the risen Jesus. It is with others that hope is born and strengthened. | |||||
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