Bored To Death (Acts 20:7-12)

On Sunday we met to break bread. Paul was discussing Scripture with the people. Since he intended to leave the next day, he kept talking until midnight. (Many lamps were lit in the upstairs room where we were meeting.)

A young man named Eutychus was sitting in a window. As Paul was talking on and on, Eutychus was gradually falling asleep. Finally, overcome by sleep, he fell from the third story and was dead when they picked him up. Paul went to him, took him into his arms, and said, “Don’t worry! He’s alive!” Then Eutychus went upstairs again, broke the bread, and ate. Paul talked with the people for a long time, until sunrise, and then left.

The people took the boy home. They were greatly relieved that he was alive. (God’s Word Translation)

I’m bored

When I was a kid, the church worship service on Sunday was the longest hour of my week. I wanted to play in the pew, but my mom wouldn’t let me. I asked to go the bathroom, but my dad wasn’t having it. I tried to draw in the hymnal, but my sister always took everything around me ought of sight. My only relief was to sleep and drool on whatever I could lay my head on.

I’ve come a long way since then. But my experience taught me something. God isn’t boring, so I’m not going to be boring, either. Maybe I could have taught the Apostle Paul a thing or two.

In our New Testament lesson for today, the lateness of the hour (past midnight) and the ambiance of the room (all those burning oil lamps, presumably to keep people awake without any coffee) clues a church-going person immediately that something bad is about to go down. A long-winded preacher only serves to make for a combustible situation.

Uh-oh

In all fairness to Paul, if the congregants were bored out of their minds, the text doesn’t tell us. My guess is that the author, Luke, doesn’t want to go there. Yet, we have evidence of a bored person in the form of none other than a young person, a kid named Eutychus.  

He’s over by the open window, propped up on the ledge, and can’t keep his eyes open. Heck, for all we know, everyone was starting to doze off. And, as every preacher has experienced, as somebody slips into sleep, we just talk even longer.

The young man’s precipitous position leads to disaster: he falls out the third floor window. And, as one might expect, he fell to his death. Now, instead of some slap-stick comedic set up, we have a genuine tragedy: a young person literally bored to death by preaching.

The Apostle Paul raises Eutychus to life, by Gerard Hoet, 1728

All of a sudden, the story is no laughing matter. So, what might we learn from the preacher who bored Eutychus to death?

He finally stops preaching

The sermon is interrupted (as it turns out, of course, only momentarily) in order to attend to the tragedy. Sometimes, the sermon has to stop. Everything has to stop. We have to take a good, hard look at what’s going on. There are questions to ask, things to notice, conversations to begin. We have to get particular about where we are, and what we’re doing, before we can keep going with anything.

Maybe, just maybe, if Eutychus was part of the communion service, he wouldn’t have been on the margins and at risk of falling. As for many churches today, it could be there’s no young people around because they all fell out the window. Never underestimate the power of participation. Most youth just need to be asked to help out. But most adults don’t ask. And most kids aren’t going to volunteer.

He threw himself on him

Paul went down to Eutychus, and bending over him, took him in his arms in an emotional embrace – similar to what the father did when the prodigal son came home. (Luke 15:11-32)

In both cases – the prodigal son and Eutychus – they each needed a new life. The prodigal fell asleep to who he was, in a living death, and woke to his condition and went home. Eutychus literally fell asleep to an actual death and was woke to a resurrected life – returning back to the congregation (and even more preaching! *sheesh* leave it alone, Paul).

Each was found. Each had someone care about them by throwing their arms around them and giving them new life. That’s what grace is. Grace is giving the gift of seeing another person and embracing them – no matter whether they’re worthy of it, or not.

He’s alive

“He’s alive” is a statement of fact, of reality. It puts all the attention on what is true, right now, in this moment – and deflects attention away from who’s around the living person. In other words, Paul doesn’t take credit for Eutychus coming to life or restoring breath to him.

Implicitly, we know where the power comes from to raise Eutychus to life. It doesn’t come from the preacher. However, there is an important task that every preacher can do: witness a new life and bring the announcement of that life to the community. Preaching can (and ought to) bear witness to the activity of God in raising the dead and granting life.

The preacher can encourage the congregation to celebrate life around the Lord’s Table, notice the people on the margins of the community, and stay awake to the possibilities of what God can do amongst us.

Turns out, neither the length of a sermon nor the level of boredom is the issue. What’s most important is proclaming the gospel of grace in word and sacrament. And that’s something we all can participate in together and celebrate.

God of life, may we learn how to live from the mercy which was brought to us through the mission of your Son – whose saving love extends to every person, whose presence reaches into every place, Jesus Christ, who makes all things new, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

What Does God Want? (John 11:1-45)

The Raising of Lazarus, by Rembrandt, c.1632

Now a man named Lazarus was sick. He was from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. (This Mary, whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair.) So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick.”

When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days, and then he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”

“But Rabbi,” they said, “a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and yet you are going back?”

Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in the daytime will not stumble, for they see by this world’s light. It is when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

After he had said this, he went on to tell them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.”

His disciples replied, “Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better.” Jesus had been speaking of his death, but his disciples thought he meant natural sleep.

So then he told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.”

Then Thomas (also known as Didymus) said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

Therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. (New International Version)

The Raising of Lazarus, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1890

Here’s a Captain Obvious observation:

what God wants, and what we want, is not always the same thing. 

Today’s Gospel story centers around a man named Lazarus, the brother of Mary and Martha. The disciples were familiar with them since they were committed followers of Jesus. 

Their friend Lazarus became deathly ill. Christ and the disciples caught wind of it. Everyone believed Jesus could do something about this. But Jesus stayed put. He didn’t make a move to go to his sick friend. 

After a few days, Lazarus died. It was only then, that Jesus made his move.

The religious authorities in Jerusalem had it out for Jesus. But Jesus decided to go to Bethany and Jerusalem anyway. This made no sense to the disciples. Lazarus was lying dead in Bethany. Going there would put everyone at risk – which is why Thomas uttered the defeatist and dramatic statement, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

Yet, they all went. And once they arrived, Christ and his disciples found the grieving sisters. Mary and Martha believed that Jesus was the promised Messiah who would come and save the people. They didn’t understand why Jesus stayed away and didn’t come sooner. 

If Jesus had been there, he could have healed Lazarus. He healed other people, so why not a friend and a brother?

The death of Lazarus seemed to be the end. No one was happy with how things shook-out. Lazarus died. The disciples’ plans were dead. Mary and Martha’s expectations died…

but death is exactly what it takes in to have resurrection.

There’s no such thing as a painless miracle. Death isn’t a pleasant affair. I have been with countless people at the end of life, and I will tell you that, although it’s possible for a death to be peaceful, it’s still ugly business. 

It’s also painful to watch carefully laid and prayed over plans die. It hurts to see a long sought after dream just go up in smoke and die. To see anything or anyone we deeply care about die is gut-wrenching. Yet, in order for a resurrection to occur, there must first be a death.

There cannot be a new life unless there’s an old one. 

Jesus did the impossible by raising Lazarus from death and giving him new life. And the resurrection of Lazarus pointed to an even greater truth: Christ’s own death and resurrection was coming, and it will change everything.

Whenever what we want dies, then we are in a position to ask: So, what does God want? 

God wanted something better than what everybody else wanted. By allowing ourselves to be consumed with what God wants, it turns out to be the very best thing for us, even if it does not quite jive with what I want.

Everyone’s expectations needed to die, along with Lazarus, for the resurrection to become reality. Only then did Jesus act by rising Lazarus from death.

Jesus pointed to himself as the one able to bring life to all that is dead among us. Sometimes:

  • dreams must die so that Jesus can resurrect them to new life, with outcomes far more glorious than you and I could ever imagine
  • plans have to be dead and buried before Jesus will breathe new life into them, making those plans so much more than they could ever have been in our hands.
  • ministries, even churches, need to be dead as a doorknob so that Jesus can resurrect them and give them new life, invigorated with spiritual resurrection power.

If we desire to see the miracle of resurrection, we must die to ourselves – take up our crosses and follow Jesus into the grave so that he can transform our lowly expectations into a glorious new existence. Death does not have the last word because Christ’s resurrection makes it possible for us to have new life. Again, I ask:

What does God want? God wants to raise the dead to life.

Do you believe this? Yes, I believe. Help me in my unbelief.

Follow the path of what God wants and watch what the Lord will do for you.

What Must Come (Mark 9:9-13)

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They kept the matter to themselves, discussing what “rising from the dead” meant.

And they asked him, “Why do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?”

Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah does come first, and restores all things. Why then is it written that the Son of Man must suffer much and be rejected? But I tell you, Elijah has come, and they have done to him everything they wished, just as it is written about him.” (New International Version)

Christ’s disciples, bless their wondering hearts, always seemed to be a few steps behind in following Jesus. And, truth be told, so are we, much of the time.

Since we know the end of the story, it’s easy for us to observe how clueless the original disciples of Jesus were, and how slow to the uptick they were on what their Lord was telling them.

The disciples were confused about Christ’s transfiguration on the mountain; puzzled about why they needed to keep their mouths shut about it; and betwixt about what the heck “rising from the dead” even means.

As they scratched their heads, trying to get a handle on things, they ended up asking about something they thought they knew about: Elijah. After all, if you don’t understand something, like a student in class, maybe you can ask about something else in order to get the teacher diverted from the thing you don’t understand. But bringing up Elijah only muddled their spiritual distraction.

The beauty of Christ is that he takes any discussion, any question, and turns it toward what must happen, what we must come to grips with.

What goes up, must come down

The disciples had the incredible experience of seeing a glorified Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration. There is a time for bright illumined mountain top encounters, but there is also a time to come down off the mountain and walk through the shadowy dark valley.

Christ’s exhortation to stay silent about the mountain top meeting may be a reminder that following Jesus is not all glory; it also involves the hard slog of dealing with adversity because of one’s spiritual commitment.

A fundamental truth about the nature of God is consistency and constancy, much like a mountain. And we can always look up, remember, and find strength in our time of need.

I raise my eyes toward the mountains.
    Where will my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
    the maker of heaven and earth.
God won’t let your foot slip.
    Your protector won’t fall asleep on the job. (Psalm 121:1-3, CEB)

What goes down, must come up

Just as life is not all mountain experiences, so it is not all about the valley. Jesus was letting his disciples know that they were about to face the darkest time of their lives. He would be rejected and suffer much – to the point of death. But the grave would not be able to hold him. A resurrection was coming; Christ would rise from death.

There cannot be a resurrection without a crucifixion – and the agony of the cross is not the final word. Resurrection, ascension, and glorification all result from the terrible suffering and ignominy of death. And since we have died with Christ, we will also be raised to life, as well.

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. (Romans 6:5, NRSV)

What goes first, must come last

Jesus linked the Old Testament prophet Elijah with John the Baptist. Just as Elijah put the Lord first and was God’s servant, so also John considered Jesus as first, and himself as last.

John testified concerning him [Jesus]. He cried out, saying, “This is the one I spoke about when I said, ‘He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me…

I baptize with water,” John replied, “but among you stands one you do not know. He is the one who comes after me, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie….”

The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! This is the one I meant when I said, ‘A man who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.” (John 1:15, 26-27, 29-30, NIV)

What goes around, must come around

I’m not referring to karma, nor to a circular view of history, but to the reality that suffering and death is a result of life, and paradoxically, glory and life come from death.

Christianity is, I believe, inherently paradoxical. The way up is down; in order to save our lives we must give them up; to be great is to be a servant; and the last shall be first, and the first, last.

We neither need to understand every jot and tittle of the Bible, nor have every word of Jesus fully comprehended in order to be a Christian and serve Christ’s Church. There is a great deal of mystery to faith, and so much yet to discover and learn. We will spend an eternity getting to know God and never plumb the breadth and depth of comprehending the Lord.

So, we need to learn to enjoy this awesome God and embrace the paradox of divine sovereignty and human responsibility so that we may worship, fellowship, and live in grace and freedom. In doing so, we are witnesses to a faith that transcends understanding, and allows us to serve within our churches, families, and communities without having every loci of theology nailed down.

All things shall eventually come back around to the Garden – a place of unhindered fellowship with God and one another without any sin or deceit to get in the way. Disaster, disease, and death are temporary; Love is permanent and shall come around to being the overwhelming and only force in this big universe.

We bless you, O God, for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.

Give us such an awareness of your mercies, that with truly thankful hearts, we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to your service, and by walking before you in holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory forever. Amen.

Hope for the Grieving (Jeremiah 31:15-22)

Orthodox icon of Rachel weeping for the children

This is what the Lord says:

“A voice is heard in Ramah,
    mourning and great weeping,
Rachel weeping for her children
    and refusing to be comforted,
    because they are no more.”

This is what the Lord says:

“Restrain your voice from weeping
    and your eyes from tears,
for your work will be rewarded,”
declares the Lord.
    “They will return from the land of the enemy.
So there is hope for your descendants,”
declares the Lord.
    “Your children will return to their own land.

“I have surely heard Ephraim’s moaning:
    ‘You disciplined me like an unruly calf,
    and I have been disciplined.
Restore me, and I will return,
    because you are the Lord my God.
After I strayed,
    I repented;
after I came to understand,
    I beat my breast.
I was ashamed and humiliated
    because I bore the disgrace of my youth.’
Is not Ephraim my dear son,
    the child in whom I delight?
Though I often speak against him,
    I still remember him.
Therefore my heart yearns for him;
    I have great compassion for him,”
declares the Lord.

“Set up road signs;
    put up guideposts.
Take note of the highway,
    the road that you take.
Return, Virgin Israel,
    return to your towns.
How long will you wander,
    unfaithful Daughter Israel?
The Lord will create a new thing on earth—
    the woman will return to the man.” (New International Version)

The bereavement of losing someone you care about is awful. A parent experiencing the death of a child is next level grief. There is no bereavement like it.

As a hospital chaplain, I occasionally attend to a grieving mother who just lost her baby. I have shown up for premature and stillborn deaths, full term births, then death, sudden infant death, and more. The grief is indescribable.

On some level, there is no comfort – and never will be. I know that, for me, providing grief support to mothers who are enduring the death of a baby or young child has profoundly changed me and forever impacted my soul. So, I can only imagine what it’s like for a mother.

Many Christians will recognize the verse of Rachel weeping for her children as part of the early story surrounding Jesus:

An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”

So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt,where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:

“A voice is heard in Ramah,
    weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
    and refusing to be comforted,
    because they are no more.”(Matthew 2:13-18, NIV)

It’s really hard to have hope when you’re in the throes of lamenting the death of children. We need hope. It’s necessary to life. We cannot survive, let alone thrive, without it.

It is possible to simultaneously experience hopelessness and hope. At the same time, we hold both despair and desire, anguish and anticipation, in our hearts. While we may never forget who we have lost, we make it through our days believing that another child can change the world for the better. We place our faith in the Christ child, in Jesus.

Wily old King Herod massacred innocent toddlers in order to ensure the destruction of Jesus. Behind his atrocity was the devil himself who knew that Jesus was the coming King who would one day bring salvation. But the old King’s sinister plan didn’t work. 

Reflecting on a vision of Christ’s birth, the Apostle John stated:

The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that it might devour her child the moment he was born. She gave birth to a son, a male child, who “will rule all the nations with an iron scepter.” And her child was snatched up to God and to his throne. (Revelation 12:4-5, NIV)

Satan wars against God’s Son and God’s people, whose roots go all the way back to the first prophecy of Christ:

And I will put enmity
    between you and the woman,
    and between your offspring and hers;
he will crush your head,
    and you will strike his heel.” (Genesis 3:15, NIV)

There has been bad blood, ever since the Fall of humanity, between the serpent and the seed of the woman. The Old Testament Israelites were continually being threatened with extermination; they were constantly tempted to conform to pagan ways for handling their suffering and grief. 

Herod was just another in a long line of demonically animated men trying to perpetuate the kingdom of darkness. The devil knows that his time is short; and he uses twisted persons like Herod for his insidious schemes.

Many people experience hell on earth because Satan is on a rampage; mothers and their children are often the collateral damage.

The holiday season is a hard time of year for many people, filled with depression instead of joy, grieving over lost loved ones for whom you will not spend another Christmas with. And yet, there is a reunion coming, the hope of a bodily resurrection in which we will be with Jesus and God’s people forever.

Satan’s most powerful weapon, death, has lost its sting because of Jesus. Death does not have the last word; resurrection does. And this hope for the future helps us in the present to keep going and not give up.

The prophet Jeremiah was dealing with children lost in war to the invading Babylonians. His words are a lament in the context of the hope that captivity and exile will not be forever. 

Matthew wants us to see that the exile is over for us; Jesus has arrived, and the tears that were shed will shortly dry up. There may be a time of suffering that we must endure, but there is glory ahead.

Jesus is the Great Deliverer who brings us out of the grip of death, grief, and lament and into the promises of God. Christ is our hope. Amen, and amen.