Easter, Week 3, April 30, 2006

Lyngblomsten Care Center, St. Paul, Minnesota
John 20:19-31 Waiting in the Dark and Wanting Jesus
Preacher: Kristie Hennig

Grace to you and peace, from God the Father and the Risen Christ!

We've had a lot of waiting to do these past several weeks.

Waiting for the joy of Easter to break through the darkness of Golgatha and the tomb. Waiting for the legislature to decide something about the stadium proposals.

Waiting for the price of gasoline to go back down and the temperature to go back up. Waiting for the jury to decide the fate of Zacharias Moussaoui. Waiting for the insurgency in Iraq to let up. Waiting for an end to the genocide in Darfur. Waiting for the rain to stop.

Our Gospel text for this morning folds us into another story of waiting. It is the first day of the week and the evening of Jesus' resurrection. The scene is a room filled with people who had known and followed Jesus, scattered after his arrest, and watched helplessly as he died a cruel and shameful death. Three days later, they had heard the bewildering tale of Peter and "the other disciple," who had followed Mary Magdalene to find the empty tomb and the abandoned linen wrappings that had held the Lord's lifeless body the day before. They heard Mary's announcement that she had seen the Teacher and he had spoken to her.

Now as the Sabbath drew past sundown, they huddled in fear, hiding behind the locked doors of a house they hoped could keep them safe, waiting in the dark for the other shoe to drop.

In one way or another, we all know what the disciples were doing. We know how it feels to be isolated and vulnerable. We know what it's like to cower behind locked doors, at least figuratively...hiding from the things that frighten us, trying to get our bearings when we get the wind knocked out of us.

Some of us have been walking the jagged edge of life. Heard a diagnosis and recoiled from the blow. Found a pink slip at work, or a Dear John letter on the kitchen table. Maybe grief and the loss of a loved one have gripped your heart. Maybe depression or anxiety has you by the throat.

We know people - aging family members among them -- who have been waiting in the dark for a long time. Nothing looks or sounds or tastes or feels the way it used to. Restful sleep is difficult to come by. Sleep disturbance can happen to anyone, regardless of age, of course. Disturbing images rise up out of the darkness, and we may cry out in fear...even if by the light of day we're pretty stoical.

Sometimes what drives us to hide behind locked doors is a tangible reality like illness or pain.

But all too often we run inside and slam the doors of our hearts, hiding behind our insecurities, our grudges, compulsions and addictions, the past hurts we nurse, the hurts we've caused, the relationships we do or don't have, our doubts, our self-righteousness, our sin.

What locks us in is our unbelief.

This is no place to live. The air in a room filled with frightened people is stale, starved for oxygen.

But the story of Easter doesn't end in an airless room. The story of Easter doesn't stop with an empty grave and the unsolved mystery of a missing body. The story of Easter goes on.

The central message of Easter is that God has gone through our locked doors -- just as Jesus did in John's Gospel-- and God has come to us. God did this before we knew we were fixed, even before we were better. Jesus didn't wait for the disciples to figure out that they didn't need to be afraid any more and unlock the doors themselves.

Jesus didn't wait for Thomas to resolve his doubts. He didn't wait for any of the disciples to do anything different, or to be anyone different. He showed up. And loved them. That's all. That's what he did, and that's what he does now. He comes through the doors locked against the night, and right into the middle of whatever darkness is there. And he loves us, holding us close. That's what the Risen Christ does.

And what about Thomas? We learned in Sunday School to call Thomas a less-than-attractive nickname. Thomas was the one tagged "the Doubter." It's not really fair. The other disciples had plenty of doubts. When the going got rough they left Jesus in the lurch, too.

Thomas had it mostly right, really.

He knew what he needed and he asked for it. He wanted Jesus. Not hearsay, not secondhand stories. But Jesus and his wounds. That old spiritual "Give me Jesus" (which we'll sing today) might have been Thomas' theme song. "Give me Jesus, give me Jesus. You may have all the rest, give me Jesus."

Jesus honors Thomas' need and comes to him in the darkness of his unbelief, giving him what he needs for faith.

Jesus comes looking for us, too, through locked doors. Jesus comes to touch and be touched.

The Risen Christ comes to us - as he did to Thomas and the others in hiding that Sabbath evening - bearing gifts.

The first gift is the peace of God. God's peace is Jesus' answer to our fear. We receive this peace by faith, by believing it is available to us even before we ask for it.We may have to "Fake it till we make it," but when we do it'll be there for real.

The second gift Jesus brings is God's own Spirit. The Risen Christ comes to us bringing a new creation, breathing God's holy breath on us to transform our lives from the inside out. He gives us a new life created and sustained by God's own breath. God's breath is the holy spirit of power. And it works on us whether we acknowledge it or not.

The third gift is purpose. The Risen Christ commissions the whole community in that house to continue the work that God the Father had sent him to do: to love the world God made. We are joined in the Body of Christ with Christians of every time and every place - including Thomas and Peter and Mary Magdalene and John Paul II, too... to make God in Jesus known. And the way we do this, Jesus says here in John's gospel, is to practice the forgiveness we've been shown. "Don't stay locked up, cowering in fear and pain," he says, "but go out into the world and forgive as you have been forgiven. Break out of the boxes you've been hiding in and break free. Let go of your fears and the drags on your creative energy, and let God transform your life. Receive God's peace. Breathe God's breath. Let go of your unbelief and receive God's healing."

The sacrament of the bread and wine we will soon share is the holy food of forgiveness, renewal, and peace. It is Jesus himself. With Thomas, we cry, "Give me Jesus!" ...and he shows up in the bread and the wine. By his wounds - the marks of the nails, the piercing of his side -- he opens his very body to us. In his life-giving blood, the essence of his interior life with God, we are joined with him and made whole. Whole and free.

Jesus has walked though our locked doors and come to us in love. He has breathed into us his very Spirit, and he has sent us into the world as he himself was sent by the Father. That's who we are. That is who you are.

You are a people loved, empowered, and sent into the world. God means to love that world through YOU and through me. The Easter story continues, and it continues with us.

The Lord is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!