SERMONS BY REV. CHRISTOPHER MOORE-KEISH

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Sermon by Rev. Christopher E. Moore-Keish

March 30, 2008

ON THE MOVE

Scripture: John 20:19-31

Last week we gathered in this sanctuary with standing room only, to celebrate that Jesus had risen. Jesus was on the move, first appearing to his frightened follower Mary Magdalene, revealing to her that he had risen and then appearing “in another form” to two of his disciples. Jesus was certainly on the move. This morning we read in John’s gospel that Jesus is still on the move appearing first to his disciples who have huddled together behind locked doors and then to Thomas.

Have you ever caught yourself wondering what it would be like if Jesus were to come and visit you behind locked doors? In his novel Where Trouble Sleeps, Clyde Edgerton describes life in the North Carolina town of Listre, population 511. The church secretary, Dorothea Clark, is temporarily living in the church office, and one evening she has the following encounter. Edgerton writes:

“(Dorothea) heard steps, quiet steps in the library room out there–approaching her door. Dear Lord she thought. Could that...? It wasn’t Mr. Crenshaw’s walk, or the janitor Andrew’s, or (her husband) Claude T’s and they were the only ones who...It was a very soft walk. Could that...be...? His Own Self? Here in His own house? Did He live here sometimes, too? Should she...should she speak?

“Jesus?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Jesus, Is that you, Jesus?”

“Verily, verily, it is. For God so loved the world He gave His only begotten son that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. All is well. Do not be afraid. I am, ah, come to save the world.”

She heard a chair being pulled up to the door. This could not be. But what if it was? He’d said believe....”

“....She had dreamed and dreamed of walking in the garden with Him, alone, but she’d always believed she’d have to die first and go to heaven. Now she was actually talking to Him through a closed door at the church and it was taking her breath. It was all true. The Bible was true. God was true....”

Edgerton continues, “....Dorothea tried to picture the face behind the voice. She never liked hair on a man’s face, but she’d never questioned Jesus’ right to have it. Then it struck her that He might not have a beard. All that had gone on so long ago when customs were different. “Jesus, do you have a beard?”

“No, I don’t, Dorothea. I do have a mustache, though. I, ah, shave when I come to America.”¹

Dorothea’s encounter with the man she believed to be Jesus took her breath away. I can only imagine that the breath of the disciples was taken away when they first encountered the risen Christ. We read how it was evening and the disciples had retreated to the house where they met, possibly the same house where they had shared the Passover meal with Jesus before he was arrested. The doors had been shut and bolted tightly. These followers of Jesus were fearful and they sit huddled together, feeling far from secure. They knew that beyond the walls of their hiding place people are looking for them, and if they were caught, the dreadful death that befell their teacher would certainly be their punishment.

In their fearful silence, what was going through their minds? Were they thinking how they had failed Jesus? Or were they facing the fact that Christ, their Christ, had failed them? Were the promises he had given them only hollow words, with no body or substance in them? Was the teacher to whom they had pinned their faith, and for whom they had risked everything, nothing but an imposter? I wonder if they had any uncertainties about this man they called their Lord.

And then suddenly, Jesus, who was on the move, broke in upon them in that dark vale of disillusionment and despair. Defying locked doors, and locked hearts, and locked vision. Jesus simply appeared. He said to them, "Peace Be with you." The disciples did not recognize him at first. Then he showed them his wounded hands and side. This is a common thread throughout the resurrection stories. Jesus appears in the midst of the people closest to him, the people who know and love him, and they do not recognize him. Mary Magdalene outside the tomb mistakes Jesus for a gardener until he calls her by name. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus do not recognize the risen Christ until they share a meal with him. And the disciples locked in a home afraid for their lives do not recognize him until he shows them his wounds.

Thomas was not present with the other disciples when Jesus first appeared to them. Later, when his friends told him, "We have seen the Lord," he refused to believe them, discounting the appearance as a hallucination born of frayed nerves or of a longing to be with Jesus once again, a longing, in his opinion, for what could never be.

Thomas was a matter-of-fact person, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. As a result he refused to believe his friends until he himself could with his own eyes see Jesus, and put his own finger in the nail marks in Jesus' hands and his own hand in Jesus' side.

A week later, we read, "the disciples were once again in the house, and Thomas was with them." Jesus comes and stands among them. He says, "Peace be with you." Then turning to Thomas he offers a powerful invitation, "Put your finger here and see my hand. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe."

The invitation to see and touch Jesus greets Thomas's disbelief with loving acceptance, assuring him that Jesus Christ himself doesn't mind Thomas's questioning and doubting.

Like the community to whom John's Gospel was first addressed, we did not know Jesus when he walked and taught and healed. We were not there to witness his crucifixion. And we were not there on that first Easter morning when sadness and confusion were replaced by surprise and joy.

Like Thomas, we missed the first appearance of Jesus to his disciples. We are asked to believe having not yet seen, asked to see with eyes of faith what we could not witness. It’s no surprise that some of us may occasionally have doubts in the midst of faith.

In fact, the Presbyterian minister and writer Fredrick Buechner once wrote, "If you don't have doubts, you are either kidding yourself or asleep."² He goes on to say that "Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith - they keep it alive and moving." ³ In this story, Thomas’s doubt is precisely the reason that the risen Jesus appears again. His doubt provides the context for encounter with Jesus.

And yet, perhaps this is too easy, to say that doubts are merely a helpful part of the faith process. Doubt can be painful. It is painful, in those moments when God is not what we wish God to be, those times when we cry out, and there seems to be no response. We want things to be certain and we want things to be sure.

Jesus said if we have faith, even a small amount of faith, we will be able to move mountains. But most of us don’t want to move mountains with our faith. We merely want to keep going, to have hope in the midst of difficult circumstances. And so we ask and look for signs to foster our belief.

Thomas's story is powerful because it speaks to our own questions and fears, and to our real desire to be a faith-filled people and to know the risen Christ.

How do we grasp the truth that through the Holy Spirit, Christ is now among us, on the move, just as he appeared to his disciples on that first Easter evening? There is no easy way, but there are glimpses of this truth if we have eyes of faith to see.

In the Gospels we read that where two or three are gathered in Jesus' name, he is there among us. Jesus Christ is made known to you and me right here in this sanctuary during worship. He is made known to us in the Presbyterian Women’s gatherings. He is made known to us during our Wednesday evening meals and programs. He is made known to us in our efforts of collecting household goods for our refugee resettlement families or preparing breakfast for our homeless guests every Sunday morning. He is made known to us when our Stephen Ministers pray or visit with those in need; and he is even made known to us when our church session gathers for their monthly meeting. When we gather together something amazing comes into being: community is created where there was isolation, there is hope where there was despair, and there is resurrection where there was death. Friends, Jesus is on the move.

Bishop William Willimon of the North Alabama Conference of the United Methodist Church wrote in his commentary on the Book of Acts: "When you think about it, the quality of the church's life together is evidence for the truthfulness of resurrection. The most eloquent testimony to the reality of resurrection is not an empty tomb or a well-orchestrated pageant on Easter Sunday, but rather a group of people whose life together is so radically different, so completely changed from the way the world builds a community, that there can be no explanation other than that something decisive has happened in history."⁰

The truth of Christ's resurrection is made known to us through the Holy Spirit. In our gospel reading, Jesus breathes on his disciples and says, "Receive the Holy Spirit." This burst of holy energy stirs up the disciples and they are never the same. In Jesus’ commissioning of the disciples, there is a sense that God is spilling over with an emphatic affirmation of life, filling the world with both urgency and joy. Jesus was certainly on the move.

Jesus Christ still comes among us. Jesus is on the move. When my wife Martha and I were serving a church in Scotland, fifteen years ago, we met a short stocky man, named Geordie Aitken. Geordie had formally been a terrorist for the Protestant Ulster Unionist Militia, a terrorist organization whose sole purpose was to inflict pain and death against Roman Catholics and the IRA in Northern Ireland. His arms were covered with tattoos, permanent badges of honor he got while in prison in Belfast. He told us that when he was a terrorist he was guilty of bombing and shooting people. This man who lived and breathed hatred became reborn by the Spirit of God. It was hard for many people to believe, but Geordie became a new person. He opened Loaves and Fishes, the first soup kitchen in Glasgow and he ministered to prostitutes and IV drug users in a pub after closing hour. Instead of killing Roman Catholics he became a messenger of peace and reconciliation and tried breaking the vicious cycle of sectarianism. In Geordie Aitken the Spirit of Christ was mediated through human flesh. I saw it with my own eyes. Through Geordie’s ministry Jesus was saying to me "Chris, put your finger here and see my hand. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt Chris but believe." Jesus was on the move.

And Jesus is still on the move. This morning we are going to commission five adults and eight older youth to be Stephen Ministers. Months ago these church members in our midst made a commitment to be trained to minister to you. They have heard the call to reach out to others with compassion. But why, why do they and why do we reach out to others, placing ourselves in potentially uncomfortable situations?

Because, let’s face it, our lives can get a little messy at times: messy with anger between parents and children, husbands and wives, friends and neighbors. Life gets messy when the letter arrives stating that you have not been accepted to the college you had so hoped to attend. Life gets messy when the decision is made to ask your 82 year old mother for her car keys because it’s to dangerous for her to be driving. Life gets messy when the vicious circle of homelessness doesn’t let up. Life gets messy when the company you work for has decided to downsize and you are let go. Life gets messy when the bank says they’ll not refinance your mortgage loan. Life gets messy when the doctor tells you that you that you have cancer. Life gets messy.

So why did these ministers, these Stephen Ministers, commit to being in the midst of the messiness of life? Because Jesus keeps breaking down those closed doors and sending people like you, me and our Stephen Ministers to walk along side us and those in need. I think Jesus is on the move among us and in spite of us. Through the messiness in our lives and in the midst of our doubts Christ comes to us, and says, "Put your finger here and see my hand. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. See me in the transformed life of Geordie Aitken. See me in the compassion of your Stephen Ministers. See me in the care that members here at First Presbyterian Church share with one another, with our resettlement families, with the homeless, with the members of our partnership congregation, Hillside Presbyterian Church, with those facing illness or grief from a death. Do not doubt but believe."

This morning when you entered the sanctuary an usher handed you a card like this one. On one side is a prayer and on the other side is the name of a homebound member of our church, or the name of a serviceman or woman deployed in Iraq who is connected with our congregation. As a compassionate church we are called to pray for one another, and so I want to encourage you to keep this person in your daily prayers, asking Jesus to comfort and protect them, and to break down the closed doors in their lives.

Friends, Jesus is on the move. Jesus offers all of us who are gathered here today the same power he gave the disciples on that long-ago evening: the power to share with one another and with others beyond these wall, His shalom-His peace, love and forgiveness. He just keeps appearing, again and again, to unlock the barriers between faith and doubt, between life and death, between past and future, between fear and joy. Jesus just keeps on appearing - a dependable reminder of our dependable God.

Jesus is on the move. And we too like Thomas are able to proclaim, "My Lord and my God!" Amen.

Endnotes