Good morning!
The last time I was in
this pulpit I was a couple of weeks away from finishing my first term at
Luther, and now I am almost finished with my first year. I love it even more now than I did then, and
I continue to have enormous gratitude for the support and mentorship I receive
here at CLC. Thank you.
At Luther right now, I
have a wonderful Systematic Theology professor named Lois Malcolm. One of the things I love about her is her
claim that “everything is theological.”
Do you ever have that
kind of day where you just see God everywhere?
In a song you hear, or in sun that splatters through trees, or a toddler
having a fit in Target? Well I confess I
have those days – a lot. And during
those times I can even see God all over a science fiction show like, say,
Stranger Things! I completely love it,
though I confess I shouldn’t watch it at night because I start jumping at every
sound…
But I think we get into
stuff like this because this is real life, right?
Maybe not the demigorgon
monster or the girl with crazy powers – but when those kids started talking
with their teacher about the gate to and from the upside-down… that grabbed
me.
“The vale of shadows is a
dark reflection or echo of our world – it is a place of death and decay. It is right next to you and you don’t even see
it.”
The Gates of hell -- Right
next to you and you don’t even see it.
Grace and peace to you
from God our creator and Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior -- Amen
I was asked a very
serious question a few weeks ago –
“Chavaleh, do you believe in hell?”
I had to think
carefully. Do I believe in the “turn or
burn” hell used to control people?
No. Do I believe that God would accomplish
God’s purposes by bringing eternal torture to the atheist teenager that was
killed in a car accident? Definitely not.
But yes, I believe in
hell. I’ve seen it up close and
personal. Maybe you have too.
Have you ever been in an
emergency room or a cancer clinic waiting for a diagnosis? Have you spent time with a stroke victim,
trapped inside her body? Have you sat in
silence with parents that have lost a child?
Have you heard the anguish from a person whose mother or father said
they would rather have them be dead than gay or transgender? Have you heard the screams of children being
taken from their parents?
Yes, I believe in
hell. And I know that the gates of hell
are open to be entered at any moment of loss or violence or accident. It’s a strong, awful word – but there is
simply no other way to describe some human experiences. Torturous moments that seem to transcend
time. An event that once experienced,
seems to color our lives in every direction – both the after, and the before.
There is another word
that is “eternal” in this sense. In New
Testament era Greek it is
“stavrosantes” This word is not in a tense that
exists in English our verbs are confined to past, present, or future – we have
to make a choice. Not so in Greek. This
verb has it all -- it is past, present, and future – ongoing. And it refers to Christ – crucified. Jesus Christ, the one being crucified. Now.
In every present. Transcending time,
coloring life in every direction.
But before he even
mentions the Gates in this passage, Jesus asks Peter some questions.
First, “who do others say
that I am?”
That’s the question we
love to answer, isn’t it? Myself
included, I’m not immune. The nice,
impersonal, refer to someone else theoretical question.
Last semester I was
working my way through the “Lutheran Confessions” class, which is, essentially,
the things the Lutheran Church expects us to agree on. Old documents that are sometimes beautiful,
and sometimes victims of their times and struggles to overcome ideas that grasp
at the authors from the past.
There was a lot of memory
work involved in this, and consequently a lot of time spent reciting things to my pastor/mentor.
We got to a section of the Augsburg Confession that essentially dealt
with heaven versus hell and how God dealt with people who didn’t “believe.”
“What do you think of
this?” He asked me.
“Well,” I said –
momentary hedge – “my professor’s response to a question on this was to quote
the section of the Bible that says if we ask God for bread he won’t give us a
stone.”
“No, Chavaleh – what do
YOU think?”
It is a risk, to answer
life altering questions from personal conviction, rather than through the
thoughts of others.
So Jesus’ second question
to Peter hits us right in the heart – who do YOU say that I am?
It’s hard, isn’t it? Jesus will not leave Peter or us in the
theoretical, the discussion of other people’s beliefs. He gets personal. He puts us on the spot because lives are at
stake. Not in a knock on your door “do
you have eternal life?” way – but real life here, now. Jesus knows that every moment of our lives on
Earth turn upon our answer to the question “who do you say that I am?”
We are forced to decide
over and over again. We are surrounded
by death, we are surrounded by hell and there is no hedging or standing on the
fence. We decide to ignore the
upside-down, to walk calmly by the death and decay and not even see it – or we
face it and with Jesus say “yes” to life.
Who do we say Jesus is,
and what will we do because of it?
This question is
important because we know, deep in our hearts, who Jesus is not.
Jesus is NOT someone who will leave us in our numbness. Jesus is NOT someone who will allow our
hearts to remain hard. And most importantly,
Jesus is NOT someone who will abandon any of us.
Not even in hell. He is with us -- Jesus the Christ, the one
being crucified.
What does it mean, then,
for us if we are willing to step forward and say “I believe that you are the
Christ.”
Well, the Jesus of
Matthew’s Gospel tells a story which begins to answer this -- he is speaking to
those who were faithful to that declaration.
He says; “you are the
ones blessed by my father, who will inherit the kingdom that is being prepared
for you from the foundations of the world:
For I was hungry and you gave me food to eat, I was thirsty and you gave
me drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you clothed
me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.”
We know this story – they
do not remember doing any of these things for the Son of God.
So Jesus tells them – if
ever you did these things for one of the LEAST – one of the nothings of the
world – you did it for me.
And that’s beautiful,
warm and fuzzy, isn’t it? But he
continues to the others, who were not faithful, “go from me into the curse that
has been prepared for you and for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry
and you did not give me food, thirsty and you did not give me drink, a stranger
and you did not invite me in, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and you did
not visit me, imprisoned and you did not come to me.”
They in turn say that
they had never seen the Son of God in any of these situations. He says to them – when you did NOT do these
things for the least, for the nothings of this world, you rejected me and did
not fill my need.
These are hard
words. Is it possible to so harden our
hearts, elevate ourselves and disregard the needs of others that we come to a
point where we would rather reject Christ and the life he offers us and trade
that instead for the curse “prepared for the devil?” I don’t know.
The very idea fills me with sadness.
But what I do know is
that if we claim Jesus Christ – if we say yes and our answer to “Who do you say
that I am” is “my LORD and my GOD” – we do not follow a shallow warm fuzzy
savior who will let us feel good if we disregard the needs of the least and the
“nothings” around us. We follow a Savior
who has been to hell and is present with those who are in it now. We follow a savior who expects us to follow
him through that death and into that compassion.
Who do you say that I am,
Peter? Who do you say that I am, Chavaleh?
I believe that you are
the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
And if in that
declaration we have followed Christ into his death – that means death is behind
us. We don’t need to look forward with
fear or uncertainty or anxiety or insecurity –
Jesus has given us an
eternal “yes” to life.
I am not a “believe in
Jesus and you’ll be happy” Christian. I
know that anguish is present here in this room, today.
But the good news is that
Jesus is also present, and with Jesus comes love and forgiveness and mercy and
hope. Who do I say that Jesus is? I say that Jesus is a persistent yes to
life. I say that Jesus is the one who
will not abandon us. I say that Jesus is
the one who challenges us to be present with the alone and a voice for the
voiceless. I say that Jesus is the
hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the imprisoned – and also the joyful, the free,
the full of grace.
Jesus you are the Christ,
the Son of the Living God.
And the only answer a
living and loving God has to the gates of hell in the world is that God moves
heaven and earth to beat us there. To be
to us both the one being crucified and the one who is risen. The one who can take us from death to life
and asks nothing in return. The one who
renews our “yes” to life when the world cries “no.”
Implicit in Jesus’
question to us is his willingness, his great desire to be what we declare him
to be – our Lord, our God, a stubborn gift of grace from a deep and undrainable
well of Love.
Who do you say that I am?
This is not an empty
question, not a theoretical question.
Lives are at stake.
Lives redeemed from hell
here and now through the incredible love of Jesus Christ. Lives that see the least and love them. Lives that can bring hope to the world.
Jesus cries a persistent
YES.
Upon that YES I shall
build my church – and the gates of hell shall not overcome it.
AMEN.
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