Losing our grip

Acts 9:36-43

Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heart that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” So Peter got up and went with them; and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows soon beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. Meanwhile he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want. The Lord makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. You restore my soul, O Lord, and guide me along right pathways for your name’s sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil, and my cup is running over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Revelation 7:9-17

After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!” And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.” Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

John 10:22-30

At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

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I've just got to put this out there right off the bat: sometimes the lectionary makes me cringe. Don't get me wrong, Good Shepherd Sunday is a beautiful thing, but the timing for my own life with these texts is just a bit… awkward. In case you haven't seen the Facebook or Table Talk, and no need to feel worried if you haven’t, I’ve just come back from my mother’s funeral in Ohio. She died in the middle of Bible Study just ten days ago, which is where she wanted to be, but it was so completely unexpected that everyone there is still in a sort of shock. I was able to drive back to Toledo instead of flying to my retreat last week, and arrived in time for Sunday worship with a very tearful congregation, a Tuesday visitation that was full of people from across the city, some whom I haven’t seen since the 1990s, and a funeral which brought everyone to tears multiple times… you know, as funerals tend to do. But then I took a look ahead to what I get to preach on when I get back from all of that, and it’s the lovely story from the Book of Acts, the raising of Tabitha called Dorcas. Devoted to good works and charity, as was my mother, Tabitha was loved by all the women, as was my mother, and they were in terrible grief when Peter showed up, as were we all for the entire week. 

So, where was Peter for my family last week? Where was the miracle raising of the woman who died unexpectedly so she could continue in the good work to which God had called her?

I don’t mean to sound trite, and I know my living so far away from my parents for so long means my grieving will be very different from that of the rest of my family, but, still. Could there be any more awkward Bible reading to come to today?

But any of us who have experienced death know this question: where was God? Where’s my miracle? Where does this resurrection promise make any sense in my sudden, or not so sudden, loss? And, why on earth are people allowed to die in the season of Easter when we’re supposed to be happy and joyful and full of new life?

It's times like this when we join with the Jews around Jesus in the colonnade, circling him like vultures: Why keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us! We're tired of waiting for an answer. We need to know who you are and why it matters.

Of course, we might be only half asking the right question.

Asking Jesus if he is the Messiah, we’re wanting desperately for him to be the one we are waiting for, the one to heal our wounds, to carry our hurts, to make the pain go away and the dark world grow bright again. We want a Messiah to cure addiction, to eradicate illness, to wipe out poverty, to destroy whoever is the enemy of the moment. We are wanting, demanding, a lot from a Messiah, and by making these demands on God we are being faithful to the relationship God began with us. We are being faithful by being honest. We are also, however, missing the point.

Because if we are asking for a Messiah, a Savior, a Redeemer, we probably have a particular image in mind of the way a Messiah operates, the sort of triumph a Savior will bring, the best possible outcome we can imagine a Redeemer providing.

If we have been paying attention to the way John writes his Gospel, though, we find that time after time this Jesus character upsets the story as we would write it. We try to grab hold of who Jesus is and what it means, and we cling so tightly that our fingers go numb, our arms get tired, and we start to lose our grip.

This happens a lot in life, losing our grip. Sometimes it’s a stressful job. Sometimes it’s the feeling of grief striking out of nowhere. Sometimes it’s too many obligations at once. Sometimes it’s feeling like we need to make a drastic change in our lives and yet nobody else seems to understand our decision.

This is usually a pretty scary thing, to lose our grip. On the other hand, it can also be a beautiful thing, to lose our grip. To let ourselves go. How often do we enter freewill willingly? How often do we sit with our emotions, our fears, our joys, without making them socially ‘acceptable,’ without boxing them up, or adjusting them to protect ourselves from conflict? How often are we able to wander, without fear of guilt or judgment when we turn out to be lost a little while? Because it’s okay when we lose our grip awhile, when we know we’re not ultimately in control, when we see that we cannot always determine the outcome of all of our planning and working.

After all, it is precisely in these places where we fall that Jesus catches us. It is when we are lost and alone that Jesus comes after us to return us to the fold. It is when we lose our grip that Jesus reminds us of the promise of God: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

Wherever in our lives we need resurrection and new life, wherever we might lose our grip, lose our way, God’s grip on us never falters. Never. We are sheep of God’s flock and fold, and our shepherd is good and gracious, compassionate and forgiving. Our shepherd prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies and our cups run over with goodness and mercy. The promise is true for each and every one of us, rich and poor, old and young, living and dead.

As John saw in his vision of God’s kingdom: “They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” This is most certainly true, because, after all, Christ is our Messiah, the one we need, the one who restores us, the one who was crucified and now lives again. The one who will never, not ever, let us go.