Jesus is Lord

Last week we read the great commission “Go, therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Spirit.” We talked about the false notions we have about these words and phrases and tried to instill a deeper knowledge of the real meaning. We saw how Christ’s Lordship was one of choice, one where the Lord wasn’t dominating and controlling, but humble and giving. With Christ, we have a choice. We are not subjugated to his role as we would be to a dictator or tyrant. Instead we are invited to share in his kingdom, to be a part of his community. We like that choice. We like knowing we have some power, some say so, that we aren’t just forced to comply with the whim of the Lord.

We also learned more about what it means to be a disciple. We saw that it is like being an apprentice, that we learn from the master and that in order to become like the master, we must follow the master’s instructions…even when it seems repetitious or ridiculous. For it is only by emulating the master that we will become experts ourselves in their ways and practices.
Emulating the master is a choice we make. We are not forced to do what the master does. Instead we are invited to follow and to live like he lived. It may seem basic, or overly simple, but the reality is we have to make the choice. Jesus is a gracious Lord who offers us the choice, and we have to make that decision. We have to choose Jesus as Lord, which isn’t simply an affirmation of who he is, but it is a submission of our will to his, it is to follow him even when we do not want to go, it means mimicking his actions so that we might become more like the master. Choosing Jesus as Lord is something we must do over and over and over again.

To choose Jesus as Lord is not simply to affirm him, but it is to submit ourselves to him, it is to become his apprentice and try and learn all that he has to teach. It is to imitate his practices until we have the same expertise. Becoming great doesn’t happen just by osmosis—it comes from practice—long hours of practice, day after day, year after year.

I will never be as gifted on the piano as Inah if I don’t practice—no matter how much I listen to her or sit by her side, her skills will not become mine. Her mastery will not be my own unless I take time to practice each and every day.

The same is true for following Christ. Listening to his words and knowing his message don’t make us Christ-like. Practicing Christ’s behaviors, his teachings, and emulating his example is what makes us Christ-like. It is in the doing, not simply the believing, that we grow in our discipleship and are transformed into the person God would have us be.

Being a disciple means taking the master’s guidance even when we don’t want to or don’t understand. Jesus tells us to forgive and most of us go “ok. I can forgive.” And then we get hurt again and we think, “Hey, I forgave you! You weren’t supposed to are that again! Jerk!” And then the master says, “Forgive again.” “Again?! No way. I did that once…look where it got me!” And the master insists…again. So we begrudgingly forgive again. And then we get hurt a third time and we think, “See, I knew I shouldn’t have forgiven again! He’s never going to change! I don’t know why you thought it would make him any different.” And the master kindly tells us to forgive again.

• “yeah right!”
• Yes, I am right. Forgive again.
• But it didn’t change him. Why would I do it again?
• Because forgiveness will change you. If you want to be like me, if you want to be great, you must forgive again.
• And just how many times are we going to do this?
• Until you perfect it. Until it becomes so natural that you don’t even have to think about it.

And sometimes, the practice hardly seems worth it. We don’t want to forgive. We don’t want to love our enemies. We don’t want to be stretched and transformed anymore. Which is why we can’t focus on the strain of the action itself, but must stay focused on the goal: to be like Christ.

In 1984, Karate Kid hit the theaters. In it Mr. Miyagi teaches a promising young man the art of karate. Daniel is already trained in martial arts, but it’s a violent, dangerous form and Mr. Miyagi wants to train Daniel in a better way. Daniel agrees, only to spend his first day waxing Mr. Miyagi’s car. Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off. Daniel is resistant to the chore, but still continues with the practice, hoping the next day he will be able to do karate. The next day he returns, only to be told he will have to paint the fence. Up down. Up down. Up down. Daniel is frustrated, tired, and sore, and still waiting for his chance to do karate. The third day he returns, ready for action, and Mr. Miyagi instead assigns him the task of sanding the deck. Sand the deck. Sand the deck. Sand the deck. Daniel is furious that all he is doing is Mr. Miyagi’s bidding…his chores, but he is doing no karate. Daniel almost leaves, but instead spends another long day working in the sun. Daniel is frustrated and sees himself as nowhere closer to his goal of being a karate great. Mr. Miyagi sees it differently, he knows that Daniel wasn’t learning to wax the car, or paint the fence, or sand the deck, he was training his muscles to respond and react in the motions of Karate.

Daniel learned the skills he would need to make him great, through days of repetition. He trusted the master even when the task seemed ridiculous and exhausting. Only through the repetition of the action the master instructed was Daniel able to perfect the real art of karate.

What was true for Daniel is also true for us. We will become expert disciples, true imitators of the master, not by sitting and listening to the message, or even by believing the greatness of the master. We will only become expert disciples through action. Proclaiming Jesus Christ as Lord is less about our words and more about our actions. Claiming Christ as Lord is not just an affirmation of who he is, but it is following him and doing his will in every area of our lives. We must repeat the simple tasks he gives us, over and over and over again, so that they become engrained in our muscles and a natural reaction to the world.

Claiming Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior is a choice we make, one we are graciously offered by a humble Lord. And when we make that claim, we make it not just with our words, but with our actions. The only thing that will make us more Christ-like is repeated imitation of the master. We make Jesus our Lord not with celebration and words of affirmation. We make Jesus our Lord by submitting to his instruction and by living out his commands. My prayer this day is that our lives would be a reflection of who Christ is, that we would persevere through the tasks that seem mundane and unrelated, and come to be truly expert disciples, perfected in the ways of the Lord.

The Obligation of Power

The book of Esther is one of my favorites from the Bible.  I love Esther’s courage and Mordecai’s will and determination that do not let her back down.  I don’t know how many of you know the story well, so I will go over some of the details that were not read this morning.  King Xerxes is the king in power, and the Jews have recently returned to the land out of exile. Many are back in Jerusalem, but the city itself is in shambles….there is not much protection, and being new in town and the regular under-dog, the Jews were often persecuted.  Just before this chapter, the king’s assistant, Haman, who hates the Jews, devises a plan for them to be killed.  He has the king sign an official decree, which by law, cannot be overturned.  This is when Mordecai comes to the King’s gate to urge Esther to speak out and get involved.  As we hear in the story, Esther is reluctant.  She had not been invited to see the king in a month and could be killed for entering his court without permission.  Much like Moses, her excuses are to no avail.  Mordecai pushes back and urges her that she must go speak out.  That even though she lives in the palace, as a Jew, she will not be spared.  She has a responsibility to do something to save the Jews. 

Like the last two call stories we have heard, Esther is asked to take on the impossible.  She is asked to risk death and save thousands upon thousands of people.  Her task is not easy and will require a lot of her. 

Have I mentioned God calls us to the impossible?  That God places before us huge obstacles and challenges?  What we are called to do is not easy, but it is necessary.  While the call before us is challenging and risky, it’s not the risk that tugs on our heart strings….it’s the need.  I don’t think anyone signs up specifically for the job where they could die…not at first anyway.  At first you sign up to help people, to save lives, to feed children, and protect victims of violence.  We sign up to fight an injustice, or change circumstances, and find out later that the risk is much larger than we expected. 

This last week I was talking with some women about being prophetic—about speaking truth to power and challenging the problems in our world and we talked about how hard it is.  And then from there talked about how hard it is to continue to grow in our discipleship, to always be helping someone new, going beyond ourselves for the sake of someone else—often people we have never met or will never see again, but we keep helping and doing because it is what we are called to do.  Most of us admitted that if we had known what would be required of us as Christians—all that we would be asked to sacrifice, the challenges we would face, we probably wouldn’t have signed up.  But we didn’t face the challenges first.  First we saw and felt the overwhelming love of God.  First we were compelled by the needs of others, and then we decided we would do whatever was necessary to help. 

 The need is real and the circumstances are urgent.  People need potable water.  People need basic health care.  People need to sleep at night and not to hear gun shots or bombs.  People need education.  People need to know they are valued and precious—not just in God’s eyes but in our eyes.  Remember God uses us to reach us—and when we live that love, we share God. 

As Christian, we learn we do not just live for ourselves—we are not independent free agents.  Instead, we are connected to each other. God has created us to be inter-dependent—we are to rely on one another—ask for help and offer assistance.  Our livelihood and well-being are inherently connected to that of our neighbor.  As the scriptures say in 1 Corinthians…when one part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers.  If one sister in Christ suffers—so do each of us.  If one brother suffers, so do all others.  We may not always feel the physical pain, but our livelihood suffers when they cannot do or create or live as God intended them to.

Living in a privileged society, it can be easy to feel comfortable, to settle into a place of privilege.  For us, water flows freely and clean.  Food is easily accessible.  Hearing gunfire is the exception rather than the rule.  Education is public, free, and mandatory rather than a privilege maintained for the elite of society.  We enjoy so much privilege it has become everyday to us—so normal that we take it for granted and often forget that millions around the world do not and will never enjoy such “everyday” luxury.

Celebrating Pentecost reminds us that we are a global church and that God is the God of all nations.  That Christ died for everyone and loves us all equally.  We are reminded that in Christ there is no Jew nor Greek, no slave nor free—that in Christ there is no hierarchy—that we shouldn’t find distinctions of class between Christians, that there shouldn’t be separation based on race in our churches.  As we hear other languages spoken, we are reminded of the other faithful disciples who have gathered to pray and praise and worship God this morning.

And as we see Esther, the woman with power risking even unto death for the welfare of a people we are reminded of the call to risk for those same brothers and sisters around the world so that they don’t have to worship in secret, so that they have clean water to drink, and food enough to fill their bellies. 

 

 

When we have great privilege or power, we also have an obligation—a responsibility to do something with it.  We are called to help others, to fight for their rights, to speak out against injustice.  We have an obligation to make a difference—to use our power—individually and collectively to do something to save God’s people. 

The call is not easy.  It is risky and challenging.  But we are not compelled by the risk, we are compelled by the need—the individual lives that are crying out for comfort, mercy, and safety.  We are much like Esther, we enjoy a position of power and could rest well in our palace of everyday luxuries, while others suffer, but we are called to help.  We are called to speak out, to make a difference.  And we cannot be so vain as to think that we will be unaffected by the persecution that happens to our brothers and sisters.  If they suffer, so do we, and we need to be faithful to the call and make a change in our world. 

 

 

The Road to Emmaus

For almost a month now, we have been looking at Easter texts. First, we heard Mark’s account, then John’s, then Matthew’s. In each story we were left waiting for the triumph and loud celebration of Easter. There was silence, fear, and a Jesus we couldn’t even recognize. But there wasn’t triumph and victory—not like we anticipated anyway. We’ve lived Good Friday trials and were left waiting for the true uplift of Easter.

Today we hear another Easter story—Luke’s. Here we meet Cleopas and his companion on their way to Emmaus. I don’t know about you, but I read this story and wonder how these men could be so blind. How could they be walking and talking with Jesus and enjoying his company so much that they asked him to stay through the night, and yet they didn’t even know who he was? They don’t recognize Christ for who he really is and I can’t help but shake my head at them. I mean, surely any one of us would have recognized Christ if he had walked and talked with us, right?

Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news. The bad news is, not only is your pastor a sinner, but she’s also thick-headed. The good news is, it’s still appointment season and you can ask the bishop and the cabinet for a new one come July.

The truth is, I haven’t just been preaching about the search for Jesus and a real Easter moment. The truth is, I’ve been searching for him. I’ve been living that quest. I’ve desperately been seeking to find a splendid and grand appearance of the risen Christ. And I couldn’t find him.

And then this last weekend, I participated in the El Shaddai walk to Emmaus and the fog was lifted and I saw Jesus. But I didn’t see Jesus in marvelous and extravagant ways. I realized that I was like Cleopas and his friend, I had been walking with Jesus the whole time and I was just too blind to see him.

As I was surrounded with extravagant agape love and ceaseless service, I saw Jesus in each of those people around me. I saw Christ in their smiles and their hugs, in the ways they cooked for each of us and cleaned so that we could focus on the Word of God—it was incredible.

I realized that God uses us to reach us. Let me repeat that: God uses us to reach us. Without our love, compassion and mercy—there is none to be found. Yes, God continues to be a compassionate and loving God, despite what we do, but without love for each other—there is no love to be experienced in the world. Without our acts of compassion, there is no compassion to be known in the world. Without our voice calling for justice, there is no advocate for true justice. If we sit back and do nothing, Christ will never be known.

In order for us to know Christ, we have to experience Christ in each other. We have to live that Christian life.

That seems like a simple idea when I say it, and yet somehow it was an incredible revelation to me. We sing the song “the spirit in me greets the spirit in you” all the time and yet somehow I’ve been blinded to truly seeing Christ in you. I can see Christ’s love and light in you. I can see the semblance of Christ…a resemblance….but I don’t know that I had actually seen Christ in you until this weekend.

Friends, there is more good news and more bad news. The bad news is that in many ways we will never be like Cleopas and his companion. Most won’t travel to the holy lands and walk that road to Emmaus, but even if you do, you won’t find Jesus in the way these men did. You won’t be able to touch him in that 33 year old body from the 1^st century.

But there is also more good news. The Good news is Christ’s story didn’t end in the first century. His story continues because Easter did in fact happen. It wasn’t a grand and glorious moment for anyone. Not one of the gospel stories has a choir of angels or another triumphant entry story. There is no pomp and circumstance. He comes simply, and humbly and quietly back into the lives of those who love him. The Good news is he comes! The good news is he comes in way we can recognize and relate to.

And if we’re honest, that’s what we should have expected. After all, time and time again in Christ’s story, God has come to us through this Emmanuel in ways that we didn’t expect. The king of kings and lord of lords was not born in a palace and held by a queen. Instead he was born to an unknown teenage mom in a stable far from home. He wasn’t greeted by the Jewish leaders of high esteem, he was met first instead by lowly shepherds, the outcasts of society. His whole life was spent upending our expectations—he didn’t overcome Rome. He didn’t conquer. He didn’t rule with power and might.

· He ate with sinners

· Touched the unclean

· Offered himself in humility

· Washed the feet of his followers

· Gave himself over for our sins

· Fought the fight against sin and death—the eternal battle, rather than the one against Rome—the temporary battle.

· He loved his neighbor, wholly and completely

· He forgave his enemies time and again

Throughout the Gospel story we are challenged to find God in ways that are difficult and unexpected. Ways that are counter to our expectations. And so why on earth I would have expected something different from the resurrection I do not know.

We are everyday people with everyday problems looking at an everyday world and everyday concerns and hoping that everyday answers will make a difference….why would we want anything other than a God of the everyday? We need a God who will meet us where we are…in the simple things…while we are doing dishes, while we are listening to a friend, while we are eating homemade jam, reading a note of encouragement from someone who cares. We need God who meets us in the simple things, because we are not people surrounded by the spectacular, we are people surrounded by the simple, and we need Emmanuel to truly be with us…in the simplicity of the everyday.

I re-met Jesus over the weekend. He was not the Jesus I was looking for. He was not the Jesus I expected. He might not have even been the Jesus I wanted. But he was definitely the Jesus I needed. I needed to meet Jesus again. I needed to see the Risen Christ in a new light. I needed to see how Christ’s promise that he would “live in [us] if [we] live in him” is actualized in our world.

Christ tells the disciples, “Lo, I am with you until the end of the age.” He promises to live in us if we live in him. So, when we accept Christ, when we invite him to live in us and we do our best to live in him, we become one with Christ. And when we are one with Christ, we are able to share the Risen Christ with others. I do not mean to say we become the Son of God, or that we become more than human, but we do become Christ, and not just Christ-like, but if Christ truly lives in us, then he becomes part of us, and then when we share joy, and love, and compassion, we share Christ because the Risen Christ lives in us.

There is good news brothers and sisters—abundantly good news. Christ is Risen! He lives in us! We can see him when we look to our neighbor on the right or our neighbor on our left. Christ is here in our midst because we have invited him in, because we have offered him our hearts and our lives and because we share the love he gives us. Maybe you’ve never had the chance to meet the Risen Christ, maybe you’ve only heard stories…if you are ready to have him live in you…if you are ready to live a resurrected life because you have invited Christ to live in your heart, this is the day of invitation! This is the day of the resurrection! This is the day of new life! Or maybe you know Christ and are looking for him like I was…in extraordinary and grand ways….maybe you’re ready to see him in the simplicity of the everyday—Christ is ready to reveal himself to you!

Let us pray: Christ I want to see you. I want to know you. Please live in my heart. Please transform my sinful ways. I submit myself to your will. Help me be a revelation of your love to all those I meet. Be with me Lord. Walk with me. Lead me to be a faithful disciple humbly serving you and my neighbor. In your precious and mighty name. Amen.

Matthew 28:1-20

When we went through Holy Week, we saw how the people anticipated the Messiah to come and conquer the Romans. On Palm Sunday, we witnessed the celebration and then we saw how as Jesus was prosecuted and beaten, the hopes for the Messiah were dashed. There was no way this man, who refused to even argue his case could have been a great and mighty Davidic warrior, who would lead the people to victory. We saw the anger and resentment of the people as Jesus failed to live up to their expectations.

And on Good Friday, we saw him die a brutal and painful death. And we struggled with the discomfort of the gory crucifixion. We struggled to see this so-called Savior die, but we also struggled because many of us were living good Friday for ourselves—we were in a state of isolation, of fear, of darkness, of depression, of rejection and anxiety. We suffered Good Friday as we struggled with life’s trials. And so we waited, desperate for Easter. And on Easter we saw 3 women approach the tomb and meet an unnamed, unknown man. They did not find Jesus as they had expected and they left in fear. There was no celebration, there was no joy. Just fear and confusion. Mark’s account of Easter morning was rather anti-climatic and disappointing. No pomp and circumstance. No earth shattering moments. Just fear and bewilderment and 3 women who walked away in silence.

And for many of us, while that Easter encounter was disappointing, it was real—we came on Easter to see the Risen Christ and we did not find him. And we feared that in not seeing and touching him that our Good Friday moments might last forever. We feared that Easter hadn’t and wouldn’t happen for us. And yet the promise was still there. There was still the promise of an encounter with Christ and so we kept looking for that Easter event.

Last week we came back, still seeking Easter and we followed John’s account and saw Mary Magdalene by herself as she approached the tomb. Again Jesus was not to be found and she was distressed—someone had stolen her Jesus and she was desperate to find his body. Then as she left the tomb she saw Jesus, but did not know him. She couldn’t recognize him. And in her story, we found our story—that sometimes the Jesus we expect to meet is not the one we find. We saw that if we are to encounter the Risen Lord that we have to remember that our God is a god of the unexpected. We will find answers to prayers in place and at times we simply did not expect. And as we left, still seeking our own Easter encounters, we were to look in unexpected places and know that God would meet and answer us in ways we never even could have imagined.

And today we hear the Easter story from another perspective—we hear Matthew’s account. Again we see Mary Magdalene and with her this time is “the other Mary”—possibly Jesus’ mother, possibly the mother of James, possibly another Mary entirely.

Matthew’s account, I think, is more of what we hope for. The angel comes with great power and rolls away the stone and it’s like an earthquake—the other book end on Jesus’ battle with death. Earlier in Matthew’s story, as we stared at the cross on Golgotha, as Jesus breathed his last, the sky went dark, the temple curtain tore, and the earth shook. Jesus entered the battle with death and now, on Easter morning, with the sun shining and an angel whose brightness was like lightening, the earth quakes again. The end note on death! The battle has been fought and Jesus won!

And the angel says to the women, “Do not be afraid!” The angel tells them that Christ is risen and they must go to Galilee to share the good news. And so they leave with a bit of fear, but also with joy! Finally there is joy!! And then there’s Jesus—on the road, ready to greet them and he too tries to assuage their fear—“Do not be afraid.”

Those words aren’t just for Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, they are for us—Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid of life’s trials. Do not be afraid of those Good Friday moments. Do not be afraid—I am with you. Do not be afraid—I have conquered death and I am with you—full of life and of promise. Do not be afraid! And the women bowed down and worshipped the risen Lord and then went to proclaim the Good News.

Finally, an Easter story that feels like Easter! The earth moves, the mountains tremble, there is joy and celebration. There is an actual encounter with a Jesus we recognize and we can worship him as our Lord and Savior! Praise God!! I don’t know about you, but I was starting to wonder when we were actually going to experience the Good News—not fear and doubt, but actual Good News!

But there’s a hitch. There’s this part in here that I’ve never really paid any attention to until this year-the guards told the chief priests what had happened and they told the elders and the elders paid the guards big bucks to lie and say that Easter didn’t happen, there was no resurrection—the body was stolen and yes there was an empty tomb, but Jesus is still dead. There is no risen Lord. The Easter story is a lie.

What?!?! We just met and worshipped the Risen Christ—we finally got to an Easter moment we could believe and you’re gonna lie about it?! And not only did you lie about it, but people believed you! Lots of people believed the Easter lie. There is no victory—just death and sin. You can’t be saved, this Jesus is a fraud! And the scary thing is that when you’re living a Good Friday trial, it’s easy to believe the lie. When you’re stuck in desperation, it’s easy to reject the Good News because you can’t feel it or see it. It’s easy to question whether Jesus really did rise, if he really did conquer darkness when you’re still trying to stave off the darkness, still desperate for the light.

But the story that it didn’t happen is a lie! It’s a lie!

The truth is Jesus rose from the dead. The truth is he conquered death. The truth is that through him we have new life and new hope. The truth is he meets us on the road, or in Galilee—the place where we’ve always known him, or in unexpected ways, but he meets us! The truth is Jesus is the light of the world and he came to us and the darkness could not overcome it!

The truth is Easter is real and we have to have faith in that. We have to hold onto the truth, even when we can’t feel it because the truth is real and the doubt is false—it is of the devil and in it there is no freedom.

How many of you know that Utah beat the Lakers again last night? No really, a couple of nights ago they played and Utah tore ‘em up and last night it was like there was no chance of recovery—the Lakers just couldn’t beat them.

No? Hmm…well, if you didn’t see the game or if you don’t follow sports, you might be inclined to believe me…after all, I’m the preacher, why would I lie? Unless you were there, you’d fall for the lie. But here in this room there is an evangelist—someone who will proclaim the truth and proclaim it with such tenacity that you will have to believe him-for he holds the true story—that the Lakers came back from defeat and beat Utah. But without an experience of your own—or without the testimony of the evangelist—you’d fall for the lie…

It’s much the same with the Easter story. For people who haven’t experienced Easter—a life-giving encounter with Christ, or for people who are overwhelmed by the darkness of Good Friday00it is easy to believe the lie. And we need enthusiastic and dedicated evangelists to speak the truth. We must battle the lie that Jesus is just a man and not a Savior. We must battle the lie that we have to earn God’s love and forgiveness. We have to battle the lie that God has neglected us and does not care.

For our God is real! Our God is alive! Our God saves! And our God reigns—the gospel needs you to be an evangelist. We need you to tell the story. We need you to share the Good news.

The end of this passage contains “the great commission” where Jesus tells the disciples to go and make disciples of all nations and to baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. AND to teach them to follow everything that Jesus taught.

Our call isn’t just to proclaim the good news, and not even just to baptize, and not just to teach, but to teach so that people will DO what Christ taught. Now, he’s a pretty radical guy at times—loving our enemies, eating with prostitutes and criminals, giving everything away for the sake of the gospel—people aren’t just going to jump on board, they need to be convinced that Jesus matters, that he’s real, not just in general, but real to you, alive in you! Giving your hope, even in those Good Friday moments. People need you to proclaim the Easter story in a way that is vibrant and tangible and believable, they need you to share the light and the hope and the promise.

Christ is Risen!

And the story needs to be told!

Palm Passion Sunday

Sometimes I think we wonder how the people could have crucified Christ. Why on earth were they so violent? We judge them as evil-doers, as narrow-minded, short-sighted zealots who couldn’t see who Christ really was. We see ourselves as different from them. Afterall, we didn’t put Christ on the cross—we didn’t call for his death—they did. They betrayed him where we have been faithful. Right? We love and praise Christ. We don’t condemn him or call for his death. Right?

Right. Well, sort of. See, the thing of it is, if we pay attention to the story, we will see that there aren’t a group who loved Jesus and a group who betrayed him—not as far as the masses are concerned. If we pay close attention, we will see that they are all the same. When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the crowds were there—thousands upon thousands had come for the Passover celebration. They would have made their annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem and they would have filled the streets. So when Jesus came in on the donkey it wouldn’t have been just one or two people coming to see, not a small parade but thousands upon thousands walking toward the city, camping out in the area, reuniting with friends and family, sharing the story of Passover where God brought them out of slavery to the Egyptians. Of how God liberated them and then led them to the promised land. They would have recounted these stories of oppression and slavery—the bitterness of their years under the Egyptians and would have felt like they were repeating history as they lived under Roman rule. The stories of God’s liberating work would give new hope for liberation from the Romans. They would have shared stories of Moses and Aaron and Miriam and their leadership and been hopeful for another leader who could deliver them to a new life. The climate would have been charged with excitement, anticipation, and some desperation for the promised one to finally arrive.

And then we see Jesus coming in on a donkey—the Jesus people have heard about—this healer, this teacher, this man who has not been afraid to stand out and take a stand and it dawns on them—the oppression and the need for a leader and here is this man who’s done so much—clearly an agent of God.

Could it be?

It must be!!

The Messiah!

He’s here!

Hosanna in the Highest!!

He’s here. It’s time! We are going to be saved! God has sent us a new leader—he will save us! He will deliver us from Roman oppression. We will be freed to live in the Promised Land as God’s people again. Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna! Save us! Hosanna!

And we hear the excitement and the energy—the momentum behind Christ. And so he spends the week teaching the people—reviewing the lessons he’s shared in the last 3 years of his ministry and people become more and more hopeful for the day he frees them. The people are behind Jesus—they want him to be the Messiah—their savior—their liberator.

And then something happens—this story of deliverance from the Romans comes to a shrieking halt. It slams into a brick wall. Jesus is arrested. He doesn’t fight back. He hardly even says anything. He doesn’t break out of jail. He doesn’t rally these followers to free him so they can all conquer this oppressive authority.

This liberator doesn’t do any of that. Doesn’t free them or even free himself. He can’t be the Messiah of the kingly line of David—he’s a coward and a fake! He’s a fraud and they’ve been deceived. They’re hurt and disappointed. They trusted him and his teachings and it turns out he’s just a fraud.

Kill him! Kill the liar! Kill the wannabe Messiah! Kill the “Savior”! if he’s really so great, he’ll save himself.

And they call for his death. Not because they are evil people, but because they feel betrayed. This man who they thought would do so much did nothing. He didn’t even try to fight. He embarrassed himself, but worse yet he embarrassed all of them by allowing them to follow him.

And he deserves to be punished. Period.

And so he is. He is beaten and mocked and spat upon. He’s stripped of his clothes and hung on a cross to die. He was murdered. Crucified doesn’t fully convey what happened. Jesus was murdered. And as far as most can figure it…rightfully so.

He was a rebel rouser.

He fraternized with prostitutes and thieves.

He led and misled the people

This man deserved to die.

And so he did—after hours of agonizing pain on the cross—he breathed his last.

That’s where our story is supposed to end today—with betrayal and death.

A so called leader hanging from a cross—naked and alone.

A defeated people walking by to see this coward they only wish could have saved them. And a handful of disciples—heartbroken and crying, astonished and dumbstruck that their Rabbi is dead.

That’s where our story is supposed to stop today. That’s all there is in the lectionary. We are supposed to have to leave in the discomfort of those moments until we come back next week.

But the thing about us as Christians is we can’t simply see things one way. We don’t just see devastation and destruction when it happens—we see a need for hope. We don’t just see the sick, we see the possibility for healing. We don’t simply see death—we also see life eternal. We refuse to be bound by the bad because through Christ we live in God’s hope. And today is no different. Yes, the story of today ends with death, but we can’t help but tell the rest of the story….we have to go on to tell what happens next.

Today we will celebrate holy communion—we will take the bread and the juice and remember the body and blood of Christ—though his sacrifice comes through death—we don’t concentrate on his death when we partake—we concentrate on his resurrection—the new life he offers. If we took communion focusing simply on his death, it would be rather morbid….but rather when we take the body and blood of Christ, we are not celebrating death—rather we celebrate the rest of the story—the story of life.

We take the body and blood of Christ and celebrate life---Christ’s resurrected life and our lives transformed through him. We can celebrate life and deliverance because we know the rest of the story. We know that this story is one of liberation—not the liberation from the Romans that was hoped for but true liberation—freedom from sin and death. We are free to live a new life in Christ—free from the chains of our past, free to be healed of our deepest wounds and free to love as Christ loves.

Because we know the rest of the story we know he was not a coward or a failure, but rather the ultimate victor who conquered the most evil powers there are—not for his own benefit, but for ours.

Jesus did not come as the Savior the Jews anticipated. He did not liberate them from an earthly rule as Moses had. Instead he offered them and us something much greater—freedom in life—and life after death. Christ offered us something much better than we ever could have anticipated—forgiveness for all of our sins, freedom to have an open and honest relationship with God despite our failures, and freedom to be restored to community even after we have committed the most egregious of errors. Christ gives us freedom. It may not have been what was expected or hoped for, but sometimes, we fail to see the whole picture. We fail to grasp what we really need and are blessed when we don’t get exactly what we want.

As you come to the table today, I hope that you will see and taste the body and blood of Jesus Christ. And that you will take it with a grateful heart—thankful for the ways God has defied your expectations.