Thursday, May 28, 2020

“Surprised by Joy”


Midweek Reflection
May 27, 2020
Matthew 9:9-17

Intro – story of my kids this past Easter – didn’t want to dress up in the morning, but when we set the table for a fancy dinner (china, silver, centerpiece with candle), then they got it and went to go change into fancy clothes

1.      There are times when we’ve got to set the scene for how we want it to be.
a.       I’ve talked about this before – sometimes to feel better, all you have to do is dress nicer and the nicer clothes help to elevate your mood. Sometimes, you need to dress how you feel and wear the sweats. But other times, clothes can help get you out of the blues.
b.      Similar to “fake it til you make it” – dress better than you feel, act better than you feel, and you’ll likely start to feel better. John Wesley even had an experience with this when he was concerned that he couldn’t preach when he was experiencing some doubts about his faith. A friend told him, “Preach faith till you have it; and then, because you have it, you will preach faith.” It boggled John Wesley’s mind, but he found that it worked.
2.      “Surprised by Joy”
a.       Title of semi-autobiography by C.S. Lewis – story of his conversion from atheism to Christianity – he went looking for joy – book is about the events surrounding his accidental discovery of and consequent search for the phenomenon he labeled “Joy,” his best translation of the idea of Sehnsucht (German: longing). This Joy was so intense for something so good and so high up it could not be explained with words. He is struck with “stabs of joy” throughout his life.
b.      Title actually comes from a poem by William Wordsworth “Surprised By Joy — Impatient As The Wind,” about a time when Wordsworth was surprised by joy, and turned to tell his daughter about it, having completely forgotten that she had died. It was published in 1815; his daughter died in 1812. I couldn’t find out just when he wrote it, only the publishing date.

    Surprised by joy — impatient as the Wind
    I turned to share the transport — Oh! with whom
    But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
    That spot which no vicissitude can find?
    Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind —
    But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
    Even for the least division of an hour,
    Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
    To my most grievous loss? — That thought's return
    Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
    Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
    Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;
    That neither present time, nor years unborn
    Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

c.       Part of what I love about it is that it holds two strong emotions within the same poem – joy and grief. Wordsworth has this high moment of being surprised by joy, and then this low moment of having to remember again his daughter’s death.

3.      There is a relationship between joy and grief. In normal times, I’d say especially for those of us who work in helping professions (medicine, teaching, pastoring, etc.). During this pandemic, it is obvious for everyone. We are going thru trauma. We are hearing so much news of loss. We are feeling so much grief. I heard an interview this week with Gary Haugen, the founder of International Justice Mission, and he said, “Compassion is the job; joy is the oxygen.” Their job, and our job as the church, is to have compassion on those who are hurting. It’s to be like the Good Samaritan and help the wounded man on the side of the road. It’s to love our neighbor and not turn a blind eye to injustice and suffering. Compassion is the job. And compassion fatigue is real. I preached a whole sermon on it a few years ago at my previous appointment. One thing that helps combat it is finding moments of joy. It’s the antidote. It’s the oxygen in the room that lets everyone breathe and get through the hard stuff. And this is where my example of our fancy Easter dinner comes in. We all have stuff we’re saving for special occasions, right? Well, this is the special occasion. Make your own special occasion. Especially if the grief and time has been wearing down on you. Pull out the fancy china and crystal and have a fancy dinner. Put on your favorite music, be your own DJ, and throw yourself a dance party. This is the rainy day you’ve been saving for, because this is a time when we need extra-special things to get us thru. Pull out that dress you got for a special occasion but then you never had the chance to wear it. Tonight is your chance! Make your own special occasion. Tomorrow is not promised to us. We are only given today; that’s why it’s called the ‘present,’ right? Pull out whatever you’ve been saving. Create your own fancy occasion. And by doing so, you’ll find your spirits lifted. You’ll find joy. Maybe even be surprised by it.

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

Rise Up: God Rises Up, Too


May 24, 2020
Ascension of the Lord Sunday
Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35; Acts 1:1-14

            We are now over 40 days after Easter. Ascension Day was this past Thursday, which is the 40th day after Easter, and which we celebrate the following Sunday, which is today. It means the season of Easter, which lasts 50 days, is almost over. Pentecost, the birthday of the church, is next Sunday, and then we enter into the season known as “Ordinary Time.” Jesus’ ascension into heaven is covered only by one Gospel writer, Luke, although he makes sure to cover it twice, in both books that he authors. It is how he ends the Gospel of Luke, the last three verses being, “While Jesus was blessing the disciples, he left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God.” And it’s how Luke starts the book of the Acts of the Apostles, which we read this morning. Part of it is for Luke to show continuity between his two books, as Acts is the sequel to the Gospels. Another part is that it offers Luke a chance to describe and explain Jesus’ ascension more fully the second time around (which is why we read the longer version). Our Easter theme has been Rise Up, and today we are reminded that God rises up, too.
            What does it mean that God rises, too? Well, the funny answer that I shared on our church Facebook page on Thursday is that it means Jesus works from home, too. A more serious answer is that it means we do not rise alone. We are not pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. We are all rising together, along with Jesus. We are not in this by ourselves. You are not in this by yourself. You are not alone. Together, with Jesus, we rise up. We become more fully who God created us to be, the church. We’ve been living into that especially the last 10 weeks as we’re showing that “the church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the church is not a resting place, the church is a people.”[1] We have been rising up during this time of physical distancing. We have still been the church. You can’t close the church, because you can’t close people! We are resilient, we are learning new ways to do ministry and to be in relationship with each other and with God. We never needed a building; the early church met in each other’s homes. Our identity as the church is not tied to a building; it’s tied to Jesus Christ. As we sang last Sunday, he is “the church’s one foundation.”[2] And with Jesus, we rise up.
Second, even though Jesus ascended to heaven, we are not abandoned by God. When Jesus ascended to heaven, he did not leave humanity to figure it out on our own. Among his last instructions to the disciples were telling them, “Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about. For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”[3] This coming of the Holy Spirit is what we celebrate next Sunday on Pentecost. The Holy Spirit is the third member of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, or Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Jesus tells his disciples time and again that he is not going to leave them orphaned. They will still be cared for. He will still be with them. It will look different, because he won’t be physically next to them in the form of a human being. Instead, the Holy Spirit will be with them. The Holy Spirit who blows as the wind, who nudges us to action, who speaks to us through Scripture or well, really, God can use anything. Sometimes it is a fellow person. Or maybe a book you read or a show you watch. The Holy Spirit moves and inspires and creates and speaks. Sometimes, we have trouble discerning those movements, but they’re still there, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. God rises up, too, yet never forsakes us. God is always with us.
            Third, what it means that God rises up, too, is that our fears are scattered. Many psalms, including the Psalm 68 that we read this morning, call for God to rise up! The NIV, which is the translation we usually read at LUMC, phrases it rather politely, “May God arise, may his enemies be scattered, may his foes flee before him.”[4] Other translations, however, are a bit more direct, complete with exclamation points: “Let God rise up! Let his enemies scatter; let those who hate him run scared before him!”[5] This isn’t a meek, “God, if it so pleases you, if you wouldn’t mind, if you’re not too busy, would you please rise up?” This is a calling out, “God, we need you! God rise up!” A few weeks ago I mentioned that during this season I’ve been reading a lot from the psalms and whenever I read “enemies,” I’ve been replacing it with the word “fears.” That’s because lately, my fears have been my worst enemies. So, let’s paraphrase this verse a little bit: “Let God rise up! Let fear scatter. Let anything that is against God’s will, that is not of God, go away!” In our hymn this morning, Charles Wesley wrote, “scatter all my unbelief.”[6] It makes a wonderful prayer: “Lord, whatever is not from you, whatever thoughts are not from you, whatever words do not honor you, make them flee far away from me, and fill me with your love.” Let God rise up and let fear scatter.
            I mentioned Wednesday night that the Festival of Homiletics, a weeklong continuing education event on preaching was happening last week online and that I’ve gone to it before. Yesterday a memory popped up on Facebook of a quote I’d shared from 2018’s Festival of Homiletics. Craig Barnes is the President of Princeton Theological Seminary and a regular speaker, and he said, “Fear goes away by being loved, not by being certain.” Certainty does not drive out fear; it does not cause fear to scatter. Love drives out fear. And that makes sense, because we know that “God is love.”[7] God rises up, and scatters our fears. God is our patronus, for any Harry Potter fans out there. And that makes this prayer from Psalm 68 all the more powerful, “God, rise up! And let your enemies be scattered.” “God, rise up, and scatter all fear.” What a world we would live in if there no fear! Can you imagine?
Finally, let’s tie this in to the end of Psalm 68. “Let God rise up” is the first verse. The last verse says, “Awesome is God in his sanctuary, the God of Israel gives power and strength to his people. Blessed be God!”[8] One way God drives out fear is by giving power and strength to his people. That’s us. Back to the Ascension story: did you catch the exchange that happened after Jesus ascended? Jesus ascends, the disciple watch… and they keep watching, even after Jesus vanishes from their sight. They’re just staring up at the heavens, even though their necks must start to hurt and mouths so agape that they might even be drooling and not know it. Luke, in Acts, tells us, “suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. ‘Men of Galilee,’ they said, ‘why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.’ These two men in white are to here to remind us that there is still work to do. Looking up is not the same as rising up. Moreover, don’t just look up, rise up! Quit gaping at the sky and get back to work. Continue Jesus’ teaching. Keep working to bring heaven here on earth. “Christian faith is an expectant faith,”[9] and we know from the expectancy around Advent and Lent that you don’t just sit idle during a season of anticipation. You work to turn hopes and expectations into reality. We work, just as we pray, to bring God’s kingdom here on earth as it is in heaven. We don’t stand around, looking at the sky, waiting for something to happen. We work with God, we rise up with God, who will scatter our fears, who will not abandon us, who will shower us with his love and mercy so that we, in turn, can shower that love and mercy on our neighbor. Thanks be to God. Amen.



[1] “We Are the Church,” UMH 558
[2] “The Church’s One Foundation,” UMH 545
[3] Acts 1:4-5
[4] Psalm 68:1, NIV
[5] Psalm 68:1, CEB
[6] “Christ, Whose Glory Fills the Skies,” UMH 173
[7] 1 John 4:8
[8] Psalm 68:35
[9] Daniel Migliore, “Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology,” p. 231

Saturday, May 23, 2020

Brokenness


Midweek Easter Reflection
May 20, 2020

I texted my mom after worship on Sunday to tell her I didn’t feel well and ask if she thought it affected worship that morning. She said “No, and it sounds like you’re running on empty.” I rested the rest of Sunday and felt better (although not 100%) on Monday. I’m trying not to run on empty. I (mostly) eat healthy, get enough sleep, exercise, read my bible and pray daily. I’m doing my favorite stress relievers of reading for fun, baking, and doing puzzles. How did I still end up on empty when I’m doing everything right? Because we are being traumatized right now. We are living thru trauma. But it’s not one-time event like 9/11, it’s ongoing, it’s months-long, and we don’t know when it will end. It’s wearing. It’s unsustainable. And so we’ve got to continue those self-care practices, even when we feel empty.
My children’s health lesson today was about self-care, and it was reassuring to realize that we’re doing a lot of the suggested activities: exercising for 10 minutes, dancing to your favorite song, playing a game, organizing your room, reading your favorite story, talking with your favorite person, creating something that makes you happy, and more. Self-care is when you do things to take care of yourself. It helps you manage how to care for yourself as well as make good choices for your wellbeing and the wellbeing of others. And so we’re doing many of these activities, sometimes many of them all in one day, and yet, we can still wind up feeling empty and broken.
I called our accompanist yesterday to ask for ideas for tonight’s song, and she’s the one who came up with the variation of “Just As I Am” with the addition of the chorus, “I come broken to be mended. I come wounded to be healed. I come desperate to be rescued. I come empty to be filled. I come guilty to be pardoned.” And I started thinking of different examples in the bible when people are experiencing those feelings. I mentioned on Sunday how Elijah flees to Mount Horeb, broken and empty. David comes guilty before God after having Uriah killed in battle so that he can marry Bathsheba. There’s the father of a sick child who comes to Jesus for his son’s healing and shares that great statement of faith, “Lord, I believe. God, help my unbelief!” There’s Nehemiah who weeps over a broken wall. There’s the man who’s possessed by many spirits, called Legion, who lives in a graveyard and comes to Jesus for healing. Then there’s emptiness. “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was formless and empty.” We’re in the season of Easter, when we celebrate the fact that the tomb is empty. And almost any time there’s a feeding of thousands of people, it begins with hungry people, empty bellies, and Jesus telling the disciples, “Do not send them away empty.” So, the disciples find some food and Jesus multiplies it to feed everyone with basketfuls leftover. Finally, there are many, many psalms about brokenness and wounded-ness and emptiness and guiltiness, including Psalms 31, 42, 79, and 142, should you want to look them up later.
But the two stories that kept my attention more are from Elijah and Elisha in the books of Kings. In 1 Kings 17:7-16, we read the story of how there’s a famine, which is not quite a pandemic, yet people are stressed figuring out how they’re going to provide for their families and not knowing how long it will last and if they’ll die from it. During that time, God sends Elijah to a widow in Zarephath who’s supposed to supply Elijah with food. He meets her out at the town gate and asks for some food. Can you imagine, during a famine, being asked by a stranger for food? What would your response be? I wish I could help? Mister, don’t you know there’s a famine? No one has any food! Instead, she’s polite and says she has no food, only a handful of flour and a little oil, which she is planning to be her and her son’s last meal before they die. She’s trying to tell him, we have nothing left. There is no food. Just enough for us for one last small meal before we die from hunger. We’re running on empty. Elijah responds by telling her to not be afraid. Go do as she planned. But, first make a small loaf for him and God promises that the flour and oil will not run dry until the famine is over. The lady is at her wit’s end. She has nothing left. She cannot provide for her son. She cannot get more food. There is no more food; there’s a famine. And yet she agrees to do what Elijah asked and make him a small loaf first. What does she have to lose? She does it and there is enough food every day during the famine for her, her family, and Elijah. There is enough.
Then there’s a story of Elisha and a widow in 2 Kings 4:1-7. This time the woman comes to Elisha and asks for help. She’s the widow of a prophet and apparently either has inherited or racked up a lot of debt, because the creditor is about to take her two sons into slavery in order to pay her debts. Elisha agrees to help and asks what she has. She says we’re running on empty. All they have is a little bit of oil, even less than the widow in Zarephath had. Elisha says we can use that. Collect as many empty jars as you can and pour the oil into them. She does that and the oil does not run out until all the jars are full. Then Elisha tells her to sell them and use the money to pay her debts and live on what is left.
The Festival of Homiletics, a weeklong preaching continuing ed event that I love attending is going on this week, online, of course, and free if you watch it live. I listened to a sermon yesterday by one of my favorite preachers I’ve heard at this Festival, Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III from Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. He talked about brokenness, among other things, and shared a story that is told in Jewish circles of a conversation between a rabbi and a child. The child asks, “Why does God allow our hearts to break?” The rabbi replies, “So that he can feel the cracks.” Then Dr. Moss quoted from Leonard Cohen, who writes, “Everything is broken. Everything has cracks. That’s how the light gets in.” Everything is broken. Everything has cracks. That’s how the light gets in. It reminds me of the different between a solid pane of glass and broken glass. A solid pane looks nice, sure. But the light that shines through broken glass is infinitely brighter.
There is an ancient Japanese art called “kintsugi” which is the art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with gold. It treats the brokenness and repair as part of the history of the object, rather than as something to disguise or pretend it isn’t there. Moreover, these pieces that have been repaired with gold are considered of a higher value than pottery that hasn’t been broken and repaired. It’s something to think about, isn’t it? To value your scars, to value your gray hairs, to value the bumps and bruises and places of brokenness you’ve acquired along the path of life. To highlight them and show them as things of beauty, instead of ugliness and trying to paint over them. We’ve each been broken. We all bear scars, whether physical, mental, emotional, spiritual. We all have them. We all have times of emptiness. We all have times when we have bare cupboards, save for a little bit of oil.
At the beginning of his public ministry, in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus quotes from Isaiah 61:1-4. He reads the scroll out loud in the temple, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory. They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.”
What God can do with brokenness is beyond our imagination. What God can do with dust, with us, is more than we dare dream of. We want to hide our brokenness, but God says, it’s ok. I love you, just as you are. Come to me. Do not fear being broken. I will put you back together again, with gold in your seams. The cracks are how the light gets through, the light of Jesus Christ, who is the light of the world, who came that we might have life, and have it abundantly. It may not feel abundant now. In fact, it may feel pretty empty and broken now. But God can do more with brokenness than if you’re whole. There are more pieces to work with, for one J Pride doesn’t get in the way. Don’t be afraid to show your scars and your emptiness. If someone can’t handle it, that’s their issue, not yours. Come broken, to be mended. Come just as you are.

Rise Up: Living Stones


6th Sunday of Easter
May 17, 2020
1 Peter 2:2-10; Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

            One of the things that has shown up in the front garden of the parsonage is a rock garden. My children like to pick up rocks at random places and I find them in their pockets, in their car seats, on the kitchen counter. I had to do something with these stones, so I’m the one who created the rock garden and that’s where all the rocks go. If either of my children has ever come with me on a visit to your house, there is a good chance that a rock from your yard is now in our rock garden. It’s become a regular practice on our walks and bike rides; somewhere along the way, they have to stop and look at the stones on the side of the road and figure out a way to take one (or more) home. I’m not quite sure what the appeal is, other than something they can look for and find and bring home.
Stones are our theme for this morning. In 1 Peter we read that we are to be “like living stones,” which is to say like Jesus, who 1 Peter also calls a living stone. Verses 4 and 5 invite us to “Come to him, the living stone, rejected by humans yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” So, what does it mean to be a living stone? Living things are usually defined by their abilities to grow, move, breathe, reproduce, and adapt to their environment. Stones don’t typically meet all of those requirements, and yet we are encouraged to be living stones, like Jesus. So, let’s examine a few different types of stones.
One of the lectionary passages that we didn’t read this morning is from Acts 7, the story of the first Christian martyr. Stephen was one of the seven chosen by the disciples to oversee the daily distribution of food to the widows. Stephen is described in Acts 6 as being full of faith and the Holy Spirit, full of God’s grace and power, and someone who performed great wonders and signs among the people. Scripture says that opposition arose from certain parts of the Jewish people and they argued with Stephen. However, these folks could not stand up to the wisdom that the Holy Spirit gave Stephen when he spoke. So, similar to Jesus, they got Stephen arrested on charges of blasphemy and the Sanhedrin, the Jewish ruling council, condemned him to death, death by stoning.
Stones can be used to harm, even to kill. It may be a stone that causes someone to stumble and fall. It may be an unmoving stone that blocks your path and will not budge. Stones can be used as obstacles. Stones can be used to destroy. Stones can be used in very hurtful ways. There is a story in John 8 where the Pharisees and teachers of the law bring to Jesus a woman who was caught in adultery. They’re trying to trick Jesus, because the old law from Moses said that a woman caught in adultery should be stoned. Jesus replies, “Let the one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, the crowd puts down their stones and leaves until only Jesus and the woman are left. Sometimes we are quick to throw stones. We are quick to judge and quick to condemn. It’s ironic because we serve a God who is described throughout the Hebrew Scripture as being slow to anger and abounding in love and compassion. Let us not throw stones at each other but respond with love and compassion.
A second kind of stone is that which is used for refuge. “Rock of ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee.” There are stones that provide shelter. In this case, I’m reminded of when Elijah fled for 40 days to a cave on Mount Horeb in 1 Kings 19. He is grieving the loss of his fellow prophets. His own life has been threatened. He needs shelter, a safe place to be, to rest and recoup. He’s been through a lot. We can relate to that. We are grieving the loss of how life used to be. I’ve been doing a lot more refuge-type activities: reading, doing a puzzle, coloring, playing with my children. After Elijah gets some rest, God asks him, “Whatcha doing here, Elijah? You know, a month’s journey from where you’re supposed to be ministering, despairing for your life, and after I just proved myself dramatically against the false prophets of Baal. Why are you worried about Jezebel’s threat?” Elijah tells God “I’ve been very zealous and passionate for your cause, God, and they killed all your other prophets.  I’m the only one left and now they’re coming after me, too. I’m worn out and at the end of my rope. I don’t have anything left.”
God responds by telling Elijah to go stand on the mountain, one the edge of the rock, because God is about to pass by. First Elijah feels the gust of a strong wind, strong enough to knock him off his feet, but God’s not in the wind. Then Elijah feels the ground shake underneath him in an earthquake, but God’s not in the earthquake. Then Elijah feels the heat of a fire, but God’s not in the fire. And then there’s a very quiet sound, a still, small voice, a gentle and quiet whisper; one translation says it’s the sound of sheer silence. When Elijah hears it, he covers his face and goes out to stand before God. Again, God asks him, “Why are you here, Elijah?” and you can hear the tender gentleness in God’s voice. And again Elijah says, “I’ve been very passionately serving you, God. They killed all your other prophets. I’m the only one left, and now they’re trying to kill me, too,” and you can hear the grieving and despair in Elijah’s voice. He’s been trying so hard to keep it all together. That’s why he needed to come to this rock for refuge. It’s not sustainable to keep it all together, by yourself. You won’t last long. You may have learned that at some point during these 9 weeks apart. You can’t do it by yourself. You need a place of refuge. You need rest. After Elijah gets that rest, God sends him back, but not by himself. This is when Elijah starts mentoring Elisha. You are not in this work by yourself. You are not alone. Take refuge and comfort in the rock of ages, a rock that doesn’t go anywhere and is not an obstacle but a place of shelter. Tell God what all’s going on. Lament, wail, grieve, let it all out. Life is irrevocably changed and the future isn’t going to look like the past. Our psalm this morning asks God to “Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me. You are indeed my rock and my fortress; for your name’s sake lead me and guide me, take me out of the net that is hidden for me, for you are my refuge.” “Rock of ages, cleft for me.”
Last, let’s talk about rocks that you build on. I officiated at a wedding outside on our church grounds a couple weeks ago and the Scripture the couple chose was from Matthew 7, a parable that Jesus tells about wise and foolish builders. The wise builder built his house on rock so that when the storms came, the house stood firm. It didn’t fall because its foundation was rock. The foolish builder built his house on sand and when the storms came, the house crashed down. Storms of life are going to come. They’re usually not quite the category-5 hurricane that COVID-19 is, yet we know that storms come in different sizes and shapes. Some of them are life-threatening. Some of them are life-changing. I’ve shared with you how almost everything in my life was impacted when I was first diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. My faith was one of the constants, because it’s built on rock. “On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.”
When you build on that rock, there is what’s called the cornerstone, or in Pennsylvania, the keystone. When you are building, it is the first stone that is set in the foundation. It is laid on purpose, with intention, and it doesn’t move. It stays put, not to be an obstacle, but to be the foundation. 1 Peter talked about cornerstones by quoting from the Hebrew Scripture. From Isaiah 28:16, “See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.” Jesus is this cornerstone, precious and chosen. Whoever believes in him will not be put to shame, but will inherit eternal life. Then from Psalm 118:22, “The stone the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” Jesus was rejected by the chief priests and authorities of his time, yet he is the chief cornerstone of our faith. When he is the foundation of your life, then when the storms of life come, and we know they will come, you will not be swept away. You will be able to hold firm.
With Jesus as the cornerstone, then we can be living stones. Then we can rise up, our theme this Easter season. With Jesus as our foundation, a sure and steady rock that will not break or sway, with our life tethered to that rock, then we can survive anything. And, not only survive, but live life to the full, “called out of darkness and into God’s wonderful light” (1 Peter 2:10). That’s what it means to be living stones. We aren’t big, blocky, dead stones. We’re rolling stones. Even during this time apart, we’re still rolling stones: writing cards, calling neighbors, helping those in need, coming together for worship and prayer. We’re still God’s people, “being built into a spiritual house” and “offering spiritual sacrifices” (1 Peter 2:5). We’re still rising up!
On Easter, I quoted from Lauren Daigle’s song, “Still Rolling Stones” and it’s still the best example I can think of of what it means to be living stones. She recorded it again with her band while social distancing and this new version premiered on Easter.[1] The link will be in the email, if you want to watch it and listen all the way through. It begins, “Out of the shadows/ Bound for the gallows/ A dead man walking/ Till love came calling/ Rise up/ Rise up. Six feet under/ I thought it was over/ An answer to prayer/ The voice of a Savior/ Rise up/ Rise up. All at once I came alive/ This beating heart, these open eyes/ The grave let go/ The darkness should have known/ You're still rolling stones/ You're still rolling stones.” Thanks be to God that we are rolling, living, stones!