He Is Risen

Luke 24:1-12

 “He Is Risen”

27 March 2106 St. Andrew’s Military Chapel Singapore

We’re here. After a 40 day Lenten journey we are here at the tomb. We started with ashes, reflected on tough Scripture, sat in the darkness of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday and the silence of Holy Saturday. Now we stand here at the tomb, but he isn’t here.

HE IS RISEN!!!!

            From the very beginning, Christ’s life is full of surprises. A future king that was born in a manger, not in a palace. Fully human yet fully divine. A refugee, even though he was God. A carpenter turned rabbi who studied at the very feet of God and called unlikely students to follow him. God hanging out with prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers, and all kinds of assorted outsiders. A teacher who answered questions with questions, such that two thousand years later people are still scratching their heads trying to make sense of it all. And now, an empty tomb.

            And no one saw it coming. For if they did, the women wouldn’t have been perplexed at the sight of an open tomb. They wouldn’t have assumed his body was stolen. Perhaps the sight of the two men in dazzling clothes would have been expected instead of so terrifying they put their faces to the ground. Peter might have actually believed their story instead of second guessing their testimony.

We cautiously peer into an empty tomb two thousand years later still perplexed and doubting the testimony of these faithful women. For if we truly believed this first testimony of Christ risen, we’d all (including yours truly) live markedly different lives.

Do our lives testify to the Risen Lord? What testimony are we giving with our actions, for we know they speak much louder than words, bumper stickers, or symbols we wear?

Martin Marty in describing testimony pondered, “What do witnesses do when they testify? They put their lives on the line.” We have all witnessed God in our lives. We have all been invited into the story. We are all called to be a living testimony to the Risen Lord. What testimony are we speaking? Does our testimony put our lives on the line?

Now, we won’t all share the same testimony, because Christ invited us into the story at different times, different places, in different ways. Maybe we are like these unnamed, yet vital women who point to the empty tomb saying, “he isn’t there” and are told by other unnamed men to quit looking for Christ among the dead. Because he is among the living, among us with a living and growing faith.

Our testimony could be one of small acts of charity that become spectacular when viewed over the course of our lives. It could be putting our lives on the line for the righting of an injustice. Some of us will testify through spending time with children, patiently helping them explore their faith each week for years. Perhaps our testimony is silently supporting those in the spotlight, keeping them focused on finding Christ among the living and not in the tomb.

We must always remember that testimony is never easy. Just look at the first testimony to the living Christ. The women were perplexed which makes sense as Christ confounded culture then and continues to do so all these many years later. Next, as the truth was revealed to the women, they bowed their heads in fear. Not in an modern definition of fear like we are expected to react to the word terrorism, but a deep respect and acknowledgement of the fact that they are in the presence of the Great I Am.

Their testimony is one of action, not sitting around pondering the beautiful truth of the resurrection. They are told to look among life for true life, so they go and tell the disciples their new story, inviting them into the one story that matters, explaining what they have experienced over the last few years. Testimony invites others in and inspires their testimony inviting yet even more into the story.

But, not everyone wants to hear the story. We, like these women, may not succeed at first and people will doubt the story into which we invite them. Sometimes truth is harder to believe than fiction. So not everyone will believe without the proof they require. That didn’t discourage these women. They lived the story. Peter needed immediate confirmation and sought it, then stood there amazed at what he saw. We aren’t to worry about the reaction of others to the story, we are called only to tell the story that “He is Risen!”

However we share our testimony, we have one because we have witnessed Christ in our lives and the lives of others. Part of that testimony is to invite people into the empty tomb. We need to enter the tomb to know that Christ was there in the darkest corners of life and death and that, despite that, his light overcame and will always overcome. As perplexing as it seems, we need to enter Christ’s tomb to be led out of our own tomb by his light.

The light of Christ leads us from the dead to the living. Our own resurrection occurs on that journey, something we physically enact during a full immersion baptism where we spring forth from the depths clean and full of a new life. In this light, the question of our mystery men, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” comes to life and is still worth asking all these many years later.

Where are we looking for a living God among the dead? Where do we see past the living God because we think something or someplace is dead?

Those aren’t easy questions to answer and as I reflect on them myself, I know there are many areas in which I need to shift my gaze. In fact, they are questions that spur other questions and deeper reflection. But, that’s a good thing, that’s a sign of the Spirit working in and through our lives. That’s proof of a living God on the loose and free from the tomb.

He is Risen!

Now let us go forth and live like it.

Shouting Stones

Philippians 2:5-11

Luke 19:28-40

 “Shouting Stones”

20 March 2106 St. Andrew’s Military Chapel Singapore

Getting engaged, scoring the game winning points in any level of sports we play, scoring tickets to a dream vacation or a concert you really want to attend, pulling an A in a class you were certain failure was the only possible option going into the final exam, discovering something new and exciting (at least for you), or the birth of a child. All of these events in our lives are definitions of joyous events and inspire us to climb a mountain shouting the good news for the whole world, or at least to go on Facebook and update our status in ALL CAPS!

            But, we don’t just want a status update or a photo. We want to know details so we can be there with those we care about in their lives. So we tell stories of those joyous days. Stories matter. They connect us with events we couldn’t attend. Sometimes its the joyous stories that get us through the pain of tragedy. Sometimes if we weren’t there we focus on the joyous story and forget the tragedy that is there in the midst of the joy.

Today, Palm Sunday, is the day when we look back 2000 years and remember the day Christ entered Jerusalem for the final time. In 2016, we see this as a day in which we celebrate by waving palm branches because we live on the other side of Good Friday and Easter. We celebrate because we know the rest of the story. However, back on the day Luke describes in this story, only one person knew what was going on, only one person knew it was a celebration, a coronation unlike anything we would expect. So, Christ’s comment that the stones will shout out in place of any silenced followers is peculiar.

When Christ entered Jerusalem, he came in through an entirely different gate than the one through which Herod would enter the city. Herod arrived with a parade and foot soldiers showing the rebellious and difficult Jerusalem that he was the one true king and ruler over their lives. Jesus entered on a donkey with a ragged, motley band of fishermen, reformed tax collectors, and other rejected and forgotten people. Yet his plain entry elicited excited shouts of “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Why?

We only have to look as far as the portion of Paul’s letter to the Philippians that we just read. This poetic description of Christ the servant is why people were shouting with such joy that couldn’t be contained. Granted, the people of Jerusalem also expected a warrior king who would come and destroy Roman rule over their lives. But, more importantly, and more pressing on their minds was the possibility of a new reality where a system that was set up to dominate every aspect of their lives and prevent them from ever getting out from under the oppressive weight of Rome was something worth publicly rejoicing over.

It needs to be in our minds that these people who were shouting Hosanna to Christ were putting themselves in a very dangerous position. They were committing a seditious act in speaking out against Rome and Roman rule while Herod was in the city. They had to believe in something more than a military victory by Christ. They believed in something bigger than themselves. And, as Christ notes when he says that stones would shout if necessary, they believed in resurrection.

Resurrection of their people. Resurrection of their culture. Resurrection of their faith. Resurrection of their economy. Resurrection of their dignity. That’s something for stones to shout about.

They were resurrection people, but didn’t yet know it. Nor did they expect it to come only after death on a cross, both that of Christ and their own. Most times, we don’t want to accept that our own resurrection necessarily requires an emptying of ourselves to the point of death on a cross.

Most likely, we will also one day be called to the same obedience of Christ that Paul describes in Philippians. Because, to embody Christ necessarily means death on a cross. It could mean a physical death for Christ and the church or it could mean a metaphorical death for Christ and the church. We are called to a sacrificial death that will glorify Christ as a necessary condition to fully embody Christ. But, what does a sacrificial death for Christ look like?

One denomination beautifully describes this as, “The Church is called to undertake this mission [of making disciples of all nations, demonstrating Christ through the love of its members to one another, ministering to the poor and broken, seeking justice and freedom for all people, and giving of itself to the service of others] even at the risk of losing its life, trusting in God alone as the author and giver of life, sharing the gospel, and doing those deeds in the world that point beyond themselves to the new reality in Christ.” That’s something for stones to shout about.

That’s a tall order, and we can’t do it alone. Nor do we have to because we have the Spirit upon us and Christ leading us, supporting us, prodding us, and walking beside us to accomplish this mission. It won’t look like we expect, nor will it follow any plan we make. So, the question we face on this Palm Sunday, where despite knowing the whole story, we still cheer Christ’s entry into Jerusalem is how will we spend our energy until our resurrection day?

Will we spend it on things for us or things for others? Will we seek our own promotion and glory or will we walk behind someone else letting them bask in the glory of our efforts? Will we spend all of our money on things for our benefit or will we set aside a sufficient amount to further the Kingdom of God here on earth? Will we spend more time watching television, on the internet, or playing computer games alone than we spend in devotional time and building and sustaining relationships with our fellow travellers in life? Will we love more than we are loved? Will we seek to change the world or be the conduit through which Christ changes the world?

When we focus our energy and time not on ourselves but on those who need the love of Christ in their lives, we become more like the servant described by Paul in the Philippians passage today. We then become more like Christ. Not only that, but we also become the people that can’t be contained. That’s something for stones to shout about.

Many years ago, President John F. Kennedy said, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” Today as we not only celebrate the entry of Christ into Jerusalem with palm fronds and shouts of hosanna let us not forget the journey that this week entails. Let us seek to participate fully in the journey of Holy Week no matter how dark it may seem. Let us walk with Christ and learn how to be a suffering servant for Christ that glorifies his plan and call on our lives. So as we journey during this final, sacred week of Christ let us ask not what Christ can do for us, but what we can do for Christ and then the stone and all of creation will shout when we can’t.

Three Years Later

Three years ago is a night that is seared in my memory not only for the tragedy, but also for the heroism of some Corpsmen as well as the amazing ability of Marines and Sailors to care for each other and the families of those with whom they serve. While it was the worst single night of my career, the aftermath is probably one of the most rewarding experiences of my life in seeing just what it means to love others.

Ripp, Josh, Joshua, Billy, Rog, Mason, and David you are not forgotten, you are the Walking Dead. Di Bo Chet!

Here are my thoughts from the first anniversary here on this space:

Personally, I am grateful for not having any night vision goggles that night. If I had some I would have been down range following my Marines and would have been close enough to the blast that at a minimum I would have spent some time in the hospital. The individual with whom I ran the two previous day range events was seriously injured and I was always within arms reach of him.

I learned what secondary trauma looks and feels like. I wasn't on the hill, but I can tell you exactly what it looked like, what it smelled like and what happened in all of its tragic detail. I learned just how surreal it is to know the full story and less than 12 hours later seeing CNN leading the news talking about and making some crazy guesses about what happened.

I miss Josh, Billy, Ripp, Mason, Joshua, David and Rog. We all do. They were good men. Their families raised them right and were so gracious and loving towards us as we all grieved together at many funerals over the span of a week.

But, what I didn't expect was to find so much beauty in the midst of all that carnage. I saw bravery and heroism that we don't speak much of in peacetime and training. There are Marines and Sailors that are here who wouldn't have made it without the quick thinking of those on the scene and due to the amazing leadership and training of the Battalion Surgeon.

I saw communities pour out their hearts for their lost sons and welcome their brothers in arms as if we had grown up right alongside them. I saw people lining a highway for 50 miles to honor someone they never met, people pulling over to the side of the road just to nod to those of us in a long processional. I saw a funeral crowd for a Lance Corporal that surprised and briefly overwhelmed the staff at Arlington.

That night and the events that followed impacted me and made me a better chaplain, a better minister and a better person.

I leave you with the memorial remarks at the two memorial services; one at Bridgeport and one at Camp Lejeune.  

Lost Sons

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

 “Lost Sons”

06 March 2106 St. Andrew’s Military Chapel Singapore

Parables are always dangerous to read. We easily find ourselves in the story as one of the characters. This pulls us deeper into the fabric of the story. As we become more and more interested in the story because of our connection with one of the characters, we begin to get a bit nervous. Because, those of us who know Christ’s method of telling stories are anxious about the impending plot twist. And this parable doesn’t disappoint in the twist department.

The first twist comes with the return of the lost son. When he decided to leave, the younger son, in a fit of jealousy, immaturity, ignorance, a combination of them all, tells his father to just die. Not in those exact words, but by asking for his share of the inheritance he has told the father he’d rather see dear ole dad in the grave. The father grants the request and the son heads off into the sunset.

For a long time, the son is living the life. He settled in Vegas and is enjoying all sin city has to offer a young, wealthy, single, rebellious young adult. The young son is living it up without a care in the world. Then the money runs out. He hits proverbial rock bottom. He realizes that his father’s servants (whom he probably ridiculed growing up) have a better life. He has one option left to live, go home. So, after years of partying and not caring about anything, including himself, he comes to his senses, and with that comes deep regret and remorse for what he has sown.

He’s got the apology all worked out and is ready to take his lumps and become a hired hand to the father he disowned many years ago. However, his father rushes out to greet his son and throws the party of the year. Whaaat? Would we welcome a strung out or alcoholic child who told us to die on their way out the door back in that manner? Without ever asking: Where have you been all this time? How are you doing? Why are you back?

As if that plot twist wasn’t enough for the audience, the second son, who we’ve totally forgotten by now, re-enters the story. And he is none too happy at dear ole dad for spending money on and treating the one who disowned the family with such love and respect. I’m sure the crowd is nodding their heads in agreement with the older son. The annoying little brother didn’t want to be a part of the family, so let him keep on walking and figure it out on his own.

But, the father looks at his eldest, probably with sad eyes, and says, “You have everything I own. What more do you want? Your brother was lost and now he is back, we have to rejoice at this miracle. Haven’t I taught you anything?” Plot twist #2, disappointment at the judgmental older son. Perhaps this should be known as the parable of the lost sons.

Sometimes we are the younger son, struggling to find our way or in the midst of making bad decisions for ourselves without regard to consequences. Sometimes we are lost without anyone beside us by our own choice. Sometimes we find ourselves at the end of our rope and are desperately looking for a place to turn. Sometimes we are lost and alone, and that can be worse than death. If you relate more with the younger son, the church is called to be here for you, to welcome you with open arms. Here you will find rest. And grace.

Many times, however, we find ourselves in the role of the older brother. One of my seminary professors, Richard Lischer has written, “The elder son is the Pharisee and the scribe, not only miffed by outraged and threatened by what they see being done to their religion. The elder son is the Good Christian from the Bible belt, or the liberal Episcopalian, Presbyterian, or Lutheran, who is baffled and not a little irritated by the rising authority of churches in the Global South. The elder son shakes his head at his own congregation’s embrace of people he has always disapproved of. The elder son is the church-going deacon who believes that because he has never been to a literal far country, he has never been lost. The elder son is any believer whose prosaic goodness has never been turned to poetry in a public celebration. The elder son is the best of us at our very worst.” If you are the elder son, the church is called to be here for you, to welcome you with open arms. Here you will find forgiveness. And grace.

If you ask random people on the street which character reflects the church in America, you’d probably hear them describe us as the older brother. In fact, the church in America has a reputation of being the older brother by excluding those whose appearance or behavior we find appalling. But, isn’t the younger brother the one the church should be there for? We are called to welcome everyone regardless of what is going on in their lives. We are called to be like this father and rejoice at the return of someone from the brink. We are called to offer love and grace without qualification.

If being lost is worse than death, shouldn’t there be a place where people can be found? Where people are free to be themselves and find true relationship? A hospital where every sinner can go for healing?

It’s supposed to be us, but because of some stances we as the church universal have taken over the years, people view us at best as a club for good people and, at worst, as a gathering of cynical hypocrites. If you want a good look into the outsider’s view of us, I direct you to the book UnChristian. One of the young adults they interviewed described the church as, “Christianity has become bloated with blind followers who would rather repeat slogans than actually feel true compassion and care. Christianity has become marketed and streamlined into a juggernaut of fearmongering that has lost its own heart.” Sounds just like the older brother in this parable.

But, there is a way out of that. There is a way to be the church again. We need to really look at what this father can teach us and then go and be like this grace filled father. First, we need to shift the gaze of those watching us away from the down and out as well as the self-righteous in our midst to the grace offered within our family. When grace is equally offered to all, because we are all in desperate need of grace, then the reason we seek grace doesn’t matter. This father successfully shifted the focus from the sons to the grace he offered both. To the younger son he offered restoration and relationship. To the older he offered the grace of reconciliation. Both are necessary for us to fully live.

The father also demonstrates that grace abounds. When the older brother complains about the unfairness of restoring the younger brother (he never calls him his brother, rather, “your son”), the father asks, “what more do you want? You are always with me and everything I have is yours.” Let us not worry about the amount of grace someone else receives. Christ has provided us the grace we need, and some of us need a bit more grace in our lives. Just remember that a slave trader wrote probably the most memorable hymn ever. There is plenty of grace to go around and we don’t need to hoard it to keep others from it for fear of a shortage.

Because grace isn’t a finite resource we are encouraged to freely spread grace throughout the world. Everyone needs a different amount and type of grace. Sometimes we spread that grace through generously giving of our time, talent, or treasure. Sometimes we show grace through a simple smile, hello, or a much needed phone call from afar. Other times, we provide grace through prayers of intercession on behalf of those we know and love, and even for those we have never met or can’t stand.

Grace is abundant and pre-paid at a dear cost, so we can’t let it go to waste. The younger brother saw and accepted that grace and will most likely shower that grace sowing seeds he’ll never see grow. The older brother, in withholding grace from those who he deems unworthy is, in fact, rejecting the grace he so desperately needs. Let us go forth looking for where we need to accept grace so that we can liberally share that grace throughout our lives to those who we think don’t really deserve it so that we can always be in a mode of receiving the endless grace that Christ offers.