Sermons

“I Have Seen the Lord!”

I Corinthians 15:1-11; John 20:1-28 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – April 1, 2018

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might receive the Easter good news and recognize it in our world even today. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

The other day, as you may know, I had the opportunity to preach at the Good Friday service at Shepherd of the Valley Lutheran Church. It was one of the three-hour services when they have seven different preachers reflect on the seven different things the gospels tell us Jesus said from the cross. I was scheduled to go last. The pastor who invited me had made clear I wasn’t expected to be there the whole time, so I wasn’t. When I arrived, there was some nice classical music playing. Then without introduction, the fifth preacher got up and gave a very dramatic sermon about the line “I am thirsty.” Then there was more music, including a beautiful version of the Andrew Lloyd Webber “Pie Jesu”. Then, again without introduction, the sixth preacher got up and talked about “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Now see, one important thing you need to know about this story is that both these preachers came from behind where I was sitting in the sanctuary, so I hadn’t seen if the host pastor had given them a signal or not. It seemed not, but I couldn’t really tell. So then preacher number six sat down, and the music came back on, picking up the “Pie Jesu” right at the end. Then some baritone baroque thing I didn’t recognize came on. It was also quite nice. And then when it finished, well, I wasn’t sure what was happening. At first, it sounded like something outside was beeping. Had the music stopped? I was very sure it wasn’t time for me to get up yet. But was there music? Wait, yes, maybe… For whatever reason, the next song, which had no vocals, just strings and something chimey, was so quiet I could barely tell it was there. I kept waiting for the sound guy, whom I assumed must exist, to turn it up, but it never happened. And by my watch, there were at least 8 more minutes before I was supposed to preach. And so I sat there, for what felt like an eternity, straining to hear the music, worrying that the older people in the room couldn’t hear it at all and were wondering why the sound guy wasn’t more on the ball. Or worse, wondering why I wasn’t taking my cue to preach!

Eight minutes is a long time to sit, straining to hear something. I started noticing what an interesting state that puts you in. When you think you’ve heard something, and you want to make sure it was real, or to figure out what it was or where it came from, the energy of your whole body shifts. You hold still in a more intense way. Your other senses quiet down. You swiftly hush anything else that’s making noise, whether it’s your breath or your phone or your husband. (Friday wasn’t the only time this has happened to me this week!)

Do you know the heightened state I’m describing? It makes you tilt your head a certain way and focus more than normal. It occurred to me that maybe that’s what seeking Jesus should feel like. It also occurred to me that it’s what Mary might have felt like on that first Easter morning. We forget, in our amusement at the idea that Mary thought Jesus was the gardener, that this whole story starts “while it was still dark.” It seems to me that trying to see in the dark isn’t that different than trying to hear music at a volume just below what the ears require. It was dark. She was grieving. Were her eyes playing tricks on her? Was she really seeing what she was seeing?

And do you know that feeling when you finally figure out what you heard? And that you really did hear it? Let us magnify that a thousand times so we can begin to imagine what exploded in Mary’s heart when Jesus called her name and she recognized him. “I have seen the Lord!”

Never mind that he said mysterious, confusing things about ascending and such. Never mind that he wouldn’t let her embrace him. “I have seen the Lord!” she told the disciples. And everything changed.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one. It’s somewhat astounding to me that none of the gospels have an account of the appearance Paul references when the risen Christ appeared to “five hundred brothers and sisters at one time.” That must have been quite something. And Paul himself, of course, “one untimely born” seems to be the last appearance recorded in scripture. But that doesn’t mean he was the last person to see Jesus.

You’ll remember that I spent the first ten years of my ministry in Alabama. Now there are a lot of Baptists in Alabama, as you might imagine, and some of them like to baptize outside the church walls. They say there was once a revival that a church held and the last afternoon was held down at the creek, so the preacher could do some baptisms. And somehow, a guy who’d been drinking all night in the woods wandered into the line of baptizees, and ended up getting dunked by the preacher. “Have you found Jesus?” the preacher cried as he pulled him up out of the water. But the drunk guy looked confused, so he tried again. Down into the water and back up just as quickly. “Have you found Jesus?” Just a frightened, blank stare. Back down and up, “Have you found Jesus, son?” the preacher thundered. And the man finally caught his breath and yelled, “Well, are you sure this is where he fell in?” I’m pretty sure that preacher is retired now.

It’s a good question though. Have you found Jesus? Have you seen the Lord? Are you feeling focused, up before dawn, straining to see in the dark? Or are you feeling “untimely born,” “unfit to be called” a disciple? What does it mean to see the Lord at Easter 2018? Mary thought he was the gardener. I’m pretty sure I saw Jesus a couple months ago, and he was a farmer. Two farmers, actually, brothers, Daher and Daoud Nassar, whose farm has been passed down three generations. But the Israeli government has been trying to confiscate it for 27 years. Twenty-seven years they’ve been in court trying to prove ownership of their land. And in the meantime, they’ve kept farming. So many different attacks, dozens – hundreds of trees bull-dozed, one time right before the apricot harvest, and what do they say? “We are still here.” Their faithfulness was so inspiring, I wrote a bunch of direct quotes down in my journal. They quoted scripture to us. “All things go well for the people who love God.” They compared their farm to Naboth’s vineyard in First Kings, saying “What we have inherited we cannot sell.” Daoud told us about these four principles that guide their resistance to their oppression. 1. We refuse to be victims. 2. We refuse to hate. 3. We act differently, non-violently, because of our faith. 4. We believe in justice. The motto of the farm, which has become an environmental education center with summer camps for kids, is painted on a rock at the entrance: “We refuse to be enemies.”

“We refuse to be enemies.” It almost sounds like something Jesus said from the cross. I have seen the Lord. “Peace should grow from the ground,” he said, “like an olive tree.” Never mind the violent destruction visited upon their groves again and again. A farmer knows that persistence is the only way to achieve fruitfulness. But who else but Jesus could remain so steadfast and peaceful in the face of such repression? Patiently collecting rain water, setting up solar panels, walking in the final distance because the army blocked the lane with boulders, and yet, “we refuse to be enemies.” I have seen the Lord. Have you?

Did you see Jesus last month when people were fed breakfast? When a church member gently helped a man pick out the necessary toiletries, which was challenging because of the ways he’d adjusted his body chemistry earlier that day? When enthusiastic hugs were shared with someone who lives alone the rest of the week? When people took to the streets shouting “Enough!” because it’s time for the violence to end? I’ve been seeing the Lord all over the place lately. What about you? Are you still straining to hear him calling your name? Do you need to slow down and hold still, so you can catch a glimpse? Paul may have felt “unfit” but he certainly wasn’t “last of all.” The song said “I have not seen yet I believe.” But truly, it’s when we believe – that is, when we give our heart to it, to the humble, gracious way of loving that is Jesus – it’s when we believe that we see. And resurrection starts breaking out all over.

We start committing resurrection ourselves. We start sharing it with others. We’re no longer straining to hear the good news; we’re receiving it, and standing in it, and finding ourselves saved and saving through it. There’s plenty of violence out there, waiting to be answered with love. There’s plenty of misery that needs to be assuaged. There’s plenty of injustice that needs righting. There’s plenty of enemies who need us to become their friends. This is what it means to welcome the Risen Christ into our lives, to truly see the Lord. This is what we’ve been seeking, focused and still these long weeks of Lent, straining to hear the thin notes of hope floating in on the breeze. Easter is finally here, my friends. Christ is risen! Alleluia and Amen!