Luke 24: 13-35, April 26, 2020, Sermon

"A Life Changing Walk"

Pastor Randy Butler

It is a sad day for the followers of Jesus of Nazareth. It is the first day of the week. And after being with him for three years, they start this week without him. They are grieving, they are sad, they are bewildered at the sudden turn of events that led to his crucifixion and death three days before. And now there is even talk that his body is missing, or that he might be alive. They are wondering, is this some cruel hoax or what? This is strange day for them indeed. 

Two of them set out from Jerusalem where these things have taken place, for the village of Emmaus, a few miles away. Perhaps they have some business to attend to. One of them is named Cleopas. We don’t know the name of the other. And as they walk they are talking and processing all that has happened in the last couple of days, their hearts heavy and their minds confused. They are likely angry as well, at least frustrated. They do not understand and they are not seeing clearly the meaning of what has taken place. They do not yet recognize what has taken place. 

And as they walk, their heads down, a man draws near and begins to walk with them. We know of course that this is Jesus who was crucified, but they don’t know that yet. They are kept from recognizing him. And it is very mysterious the way Jesus steps in line with them. Luke simply says that he came near and went with them. That’s kind of understated. I mean this is Jesus back from the dead, and he just comes near and goes with them? No fanfare? No great angelic announcements? 

I read about a pastor who gave a children’s sermon on Easter morning, and he asked the children, “What were Jesus’ first words after he was raised from the dead?” And before he could say anything else, one of the young girls waved her hands excitedly, so he called on her. She said, “I know, I know, his first words were, ‘tah dah!’” Well, there is no “tah dah” here. He just starts walking with them, just falls in line. And then he asks a question, “What are you talking about on your walk?” And at this point we can see frustration boil over a little. Cleopas blurts it out, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who doesn’t know about what has happened in the last couple of days?” And Jesus asks, “What things? 

Now this is strange. Is Jesus playing dumb? Is he toying with them? Or is there more going on in his mysterious approach? Maybe this is just what these two sad travelers need. Maybe they aren’t at all ready for the big “tah dah.” Maybe they just need someone to ask them a couple of questions so that they can get out all that is inside them. Maybe Jesus’ simple questions come from his love for them. He wants to draws them out. Rather than bowl them over with his authority and power he just wants to draw near to them, speak gently to them at first, and lead them along at a pace they can handle. So he takes them, starting with questions, from their blindness and darkness to a new vision of him, a new recognition of him, of their lives and their world. “What things? What’s going on, tell me about it.” 

And they do. They pour out their hearts to him. And what is on their hearts as much as anything is their disappointment. We hear it in those words, “But we had hoped.” “But we had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel.” Their hopes have not been realized, their hopes have been crucified, their dreams are not coming true. 

What about our hopes? Where have our hopes been dashed? What are our broken dreams? “I had hoped to make more money this year.” “I had hoped that my marriage might last forever.” “I had hoped this was the job for me.” “I had hoped that our business would really take off.” “We had hoped that he would stay sober this time.” “We had hoped that our children would come to church, and their children.” Jesus asks and they share with him their broken dreams, and unfulfilled hopes. He asks within us and we share our broken dreams and unmet hopes. And Jesus listens. 

He won’t let us wallow in disappointment though. He listens, but he is direct in his response. “Oh how foolish you are and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared.” And then he adds, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” And Luke then says that starting with Moses and all the prophets he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. 

He listens to their story and then he tells them the story, the big story found in the scriptures. He interprets the scriptures and interprets our lives. He matches our life story to the grand story of scripture, connects them, and places our story within the epic story of scripture. He reinterprets our story of dashed hopes and disappointments. He sheds new light on the story of our broken dreams and failures, and helps write a whole new story line of those events in our lives. He acts as a sort of gracious heavenly editor, suggesting new possibilities to the story of broken dreams and dashed hopes that we have been telling ourselves all this time. 

Maybe it is a kind of revision, a re-write. And the biggest part of this re-arrangement of our own stories has to do with the role of suffering, and understanding the part that pain and failure play in our story, in the plot line of our life. The plot line takes many forms but the general outline is familiar – stories of loss, failure and pain. We all have a story. And yet Jesus says, “Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer and then enter glory?” 

We have the idea that life should be one never ending glory ride, an ongoing triumph. But in Jesus’ telling of the story glory only comes after pain. Pain is an indispensable part of the glory story. Resurrection follows crucifixion. It’s even kind of a necessary pattern. Life-death-then life again. Jesus says elsewhere that “unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies it remains just a single grain. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.” The story has a pattern of death followed by life. It is a story of the redeeming and the putting to work of our suffering. 

And so he is re-telling our story, connecting our story with his, placing our story within his story. We are now participants in his story. When I was a boy I used to love a series of books called “We Were There.” They always took a couple of young children about my age, and placed them in the famous events of American history. We Were There at the Boston Tea Party, We Were There at the Battle of Gettysburg. There was even one called We Were There on the Oregon Trail. I loved those books because it was like I was there for these momentous historical events. 

Jesus is making a "We Were There" connection, a "We Are There" connection. Because his crucifixion and resurrection story isn’t just ancient history, it is now our crucifixion and resurrection story. We are now in the big story. We are participants in the story. That’s why the apostle Paul can say, “I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me, and the life I now live I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and delivered himself up for me.” In another place he says, “Since we have knit together in the very likeness of his death in the same way we will certainly be united with him in his life.” He is seeing his life in the light of Jesus’ life now. That’s why Paul so often uses the phrase "in Christ"to describe our relationship with Christ. Jesus on the road to Emmaus is giving these two downcast travelers on that first Easter day a new way of seeing their sorrow, a new way of seeing their lives. 

And so this is unfolding as they walk along. Later they will say, “Didn’t our hearts burn when this man opened up the scriptures for us?” When they arrived in Emmaus he was ready to go but they pressed him to stay for dinner. And when they sat down he now acted like the host, took and broke bread, and when he did their eyes were opened. They recognized him. When they left Jerusalem they were blind to his presence. When they arrived in Emmaus they saw him. Along the way by the Word of scripture, and the word picture or symbol of bread and cup they now recognize him. His presence is made manifest by Word and sacrament. His presence. The presence of the risen Jesus with them and with us. His death, our death, his life, our life. When we see our life in his life then our life starts making sense. Then we go aha, and we recognize Jesus in our life, because we are in his life. We are in Christ, and Christ loves us.

I Peter 1:3-9, April 19, 2020, Sermon

“Now What?” 

by Pastor Randy Butler 

Churches around the world, ours included, have been spending a lot of time and energy on getting our video and audio technology up to speed so that we can best keep in touch with our congregations and still hold services, in some form, online. When shutdown orders started coming in March, it became clear very quickly that we wouldn’t be holding Easter services at the church. And so we all scurried and tried to do Easter as best we could. It kept us focused and energized to make sure that we worshiped in some way online for Easter Sunday. 

But now that’s over, and the initial burst of nervous energy and creativity brought on by the Coronavirus has been somewhat depleted. We are still in shutdown, and we still can’t worship together yet. And we don’t know how long this will go on, so it is perhaps fair to ask, "Now what? - On this Sunday after Easter? Where do we go from here?"

In our text this morning, the Apostle Peter is writing to those whom he calls exiles in the land of Asia Minor, what is now western Turkey. He is writing to followers of Jesus dispersed throughout that area in the first century, in small communities who profess a belief in the resurrection of Jesus. This resurrection movement is still gaining traction throughout the region. Their survival is still not certain. And they indeed feel as though they are exiles, strangers in a strange land, aliens in a culture that is very suspicious of their ways, and in some cases hostile. They too might have felt like asking, “Now what?” Tell us what to do now Peter.” Here is Peter’s answer: 

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” 

The "now what?" after Easter is this – not only is Christ risen from the dead. So are we. It is not just a one-time event, not just centuries old history, and it didn’t just happen to the one man. But because he was risen, and because we are now organically united with him, so are we risen. The letter to the Colossians says, “when you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead.” 

So we too have been given a new birth, as Peter puts it, a new birth into a living hope. What is living hope? Well it is hope that is alive. It is not dying hope. It is living, breathing, heart beating hope. Hope that never dies. 

I love the resurrection hope I read about in a letter that came from Health and Human Services to a resident of Greenville County, South Carolina. It said, “Your food stamps will be stopped effective March 1992, because we received notice that you passed away. May God bless you. You may reapply if your circumstances change.” That’s very optimistic but it isn’t exactly what we mean by living hope. Neither is living hope mere wishful thinking: “I hope the weather is nice in Baker today. I hope it’s not too windy.” Well okay, so do I. But it’s springtime and it is often windy. That is wishful thinking, wishful hope, kind of flimsy hope. Living hope lives because Jesus lives. No matter how it is going for you, there is always hope. You and I are never backed into a corner. There is always hope because just when it looked like all was lost Jesus was raised, and is now alive. And so are we. 

Peter says we have been given a new birth, like we are born into a new family. He adds the assurance that in this new family arrangement our inheritance is sure. Maybe you are driving around with that bumper sticker that says, “I am spending my kids’ inheritance.” We can’t do that with the inheritance Peter is talking about. The inheritance he is talking about is imperishable. It can’t be spent down. It is undefiled and unfading, and it is kept in heaven for us. It is set aside for me and for you, where as Jesus says, neither moth nor rust can consume and where thieves do not break in and steal. This is our eternal inheritance. It is settled beyond all the uncertainties of this life, and the ups and downs of our savings and retirement plans. 

So new birth into a living hope and into a sure inheritance. This is what you need to know when you feel like a stranger in a strange land. Because in the meantime it still doesn’t always feel like new birth and living hope and sure inheritance. And Peter acknowledges that. 

“In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith - being more precious than gold, that, though perishable, is tested by fire – may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” 

In this you rejoice, though for a while you suffer trials. The New Testament often connects joy with suffering and refining. James’ letter says, “My brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance, and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” Peter compares this process to the refining of gold. Just as gold is refined and purified by fire, so you are purified and refined by the fire of suffering. 

The Bible likes this metaphor, because it is exactly like what is going on with us. Isaiah 48:10 says, “See I have refined you, but not like silver, I have tested you in the furnace of adversity.” Proverbs 17:3 – “The crucible is for silver, and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.” 

Maybe you sometimes feel as though you are sitting in the crucible of adversity and the heat is being turned up so that you are nearing the melting point. Peter is saying that’s what it is like sometimes so that what is left after the refining process is pure and real, a residue of faith that can withstand any fire of adversity. We are being refined and purified, he says, for that day when Jesus Christ is revealed. In our current adversities, painful as they are for so many, there is nonetheless a kind of purifying that is taking place as we reflect on what is important in life and what is not, what is pure and what is dross. What do we really need and what can we do without? Peter continues: 

“Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” 

And I read that and say, “I do?” Even though I do not see him, I love him and believe in him and rejoice in him?” I would like to say that I do, but more often where I would like to love, I resent, and where I would like to believe, I doubt, and where I would like to rejoice, I complain.” 

Peter makes it sound like this is just fact, the way things are – that though I do not see him I love, believe and rejoice. I wonder if it might be helpful to say that even though I do not see him I can love, believe and rejoice. At even given moment and under any given circumstances, I can choose to love or hate, believe or doubt, rejoice or complain. I can love, believe and rejoice if I choose. 

I find it fascinating – the discoveries that brain scientists and neurologists are making about the brain and our mental processes. They say that by repeatedly having enriching and absorbing positive thoughts and experiences we can recreate our brains, rewire, and establish new positive neural pathways. This doesn’t mean that we ignore the negative in our lives. It does mean that we practice giving at least equal time to positive experiences and thoughts. Surely sometime in the week ahead you and I can find a moment to reflect on something good and positive about our life, even about ourselves, and even in the midst of, especially in the midst of difficulty. We spend a lot of time thinking negative thoughts about ourselves and our world. Wouldn’t it be okay to give equal time to positive thoughts about ourselves? Sometime this week, recall a moment in which you felt good about yourself. Stay with it for few minutes. Let a smile form on your face. The body sometimes leads the mind. Enrich that moment in which you felt good, and absorb it. Do that enough and you are rewiring your brain. It is better explained in the book, “Hardwiring Happiness: the new Brain Science of Contentment Calm and Confidence,” by Dr. Rick Hansen. 

The reason Peter can write like he does is that he knows we are receiving the outcome of our faith, the salvation of our souls. It’s happening right now. We don’t have to wait for salvation. It starts now. That’s enough to make you love trust and rejoice. 

So now what? Keep on going with a living hope based firmly on the foundation of Christ’s resurrection from the dead, and ours. Trust in the certain inheritance kept for us through the uncertainties of our time. And trust in the often painful but ultimately purifying, refining furnace of adversity. These are things that help us hang on in tough times, in tough places. 

Easter is not over friends, it is just beginning. He is risen, he is risen indeed!

Matthew 28:1-10, Easter Sunday April 12, 2020, Sermon

"The Voice of an Angel"

by Pastor Randy Butler

There is a fascination with angels in our time. There are books about angels, and television shows about angels. And I think this fascination comes from the sense that the presence of angels means that God is drawing close to us, in our time, in our world. The presence of angels means the mysterious presence of God. And so angels show up just at the time of Jesus’ resurrection. God is present. In all four of the gospel accounts angels appear, as God’s representatives at this very big moment. And in Matthew’s telling of the resurrection, the angel figures very prominently, with a lot of fanfare, and speaking at length. As he finishes speaking to the two women at the tomb he says, “This is my message for you.” So let’s explore this because the angel has a message for us too.

The resurrection of Jesus is not a quiet event. Matthew tells us that on the first day of the week, when the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene and a woman he calls the other Mary head for the tomb of Jesus at daybreak. And suddenly there was an earthquake, and an angel descended and rolled the stone away from the tomb. He was lit up from head to toe, and the guards were so stunned by this earth shaking experience that they were paralyzed with fear. Resurrection is not a quiet event, it is an earthquake.

We tend to tame resurrection. We prefer to celebrate it with pastel colors and Easter Eggs, and pretty dresses, and a well decorated Easter brunch. We like it when the sun shines warmly on Easter and hints at the spring time hope of new life. This is fine, and certainly understandable. It’s comforting. But really resurrection is more at home in a graveyard. That’s where resurrection happens. That’s where the risen Jesus appears. That is where resurrection is meaningful and relevant. After all resurrection only has meaning in the presence of death. If there is no death, there is no need for resurrection. Death and resurrection kind of go together. And so resurrection belongs right where there is sickness and disease and death, where loved ones get sick, and where family members die. Resurrection belongs right in the middle of the graveyard and dead ends of our own dreams and hopes. Right in the middle of our failures. When we feel like we could die, that’s where resurrection shows up.

And you don’t undo death and failure quietly. Death is not reversed quietly. It is an earthshaking undertaking, like throwing a car going downhill in reverse into drive again. Things rattle and shake. Resurrection is tumultuous. It takes a lot to throw a world going downhill into forward again. It doesn’t happen without some noise and fear. Resurrection, like any life changing event, is scary.

So it is comforting to hear the angel’s first words: “Do not be afraid.” Angels say that a lot. They said it at Jesus’ birth and they are saying at his death and resurrection. “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.” The angel understands these two fearful women. He knows what they are going through. God understands what we go through in life’s scary moments. God knows that we are fearful and afraid in this time of virus spread and social distancing, things we’ve never experienced before. God doesn’t cause the coronavirus. But neither apparently does God simply protect and eliminate this virus either. In our freedom we are left to figure our way through this. And perhaps resurrection is happening in ways we never thought possible: people who were once divided working together in our nation and in our world. New life and hope in the midst of disease, sickness and death. Resurrection, right where it belongs. And words of comfort from God: Do not be afraid I know what you are looking for.

So we have a message of assurance. And then the angel shows the women where Jesus was. “He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.” And then he adds, “Come see the place where he lay.” The angel respects the fact that this kind of event takes a while for us to process. We need to see it for ourselves, and make some sense of what has taken place. God gives us some evidence: “Here is where Jesus was. You can see for yourself that he is not there anymore.” Now an empty tomb by itself is not evidence of resurrection. It could be claimed that Jesus’ body was stolen, and that rumor in fact was spread at the time, that his disciples stole the dead body. But when you combine an empty tomb with the subsequent appearance of the one you saw placed in that tomb – why then, it looks like something quite amazing has happened here.

We are not expected to live the Christian life, the Jesus way, with our brains on the shelf, and simply accept everything we are told. In John’s gospel the disciples stick their heads in the empty tomb to look around. We use our heads, we use our minds. We need to look around around a little to make sense of things. We live by faith that seeks understanding. Every once in awhile when I think about how incredible it all is – this resurrection and other aspects of our faith, I take comfort in some of the great Christian thinkers throughout history. St. Augustine in the fifth century, a brilliant orator and professor in Italy, who already had an amazing career and in his early thirties he comes to faith in Christ. Historians acknowledge Augustine’s exceptional mind and towering influence on Western though. And he believed in the resurrection of Jesus. I think of C.S. Lewis in the twentieth Century, whose sharp and thoughtful mind could cut through to the core of any issue, and he believed in the resurrection of Jesus. I think about the intelligent women I have known who have trusted in God and in resurrection. And when I do, I know that I am in good company. And I am encouraged and my faith is strengthened. If they could make sense of this then maybe so can I. And I come to believe and trust in resurrection.

So the angel assures and then shows, provides some evidence for us to work with as resurrection becomes a reality for us. And then the angel sends. There is a stop, look and go quality to the resurrection this morning. We are stopped dead in our tracks, we look around and now we go. We don’t get stuck in looking around, we don’t get bogged down in theology or philosophy, or endless study. We use our minds, but sooner or later we have to get up and go. Go, says the angel. And he says first go and be together, with Jesus in Galilee. Go there all of you and he will meet you there. That makes me kind of envious, that they can meet together. When the women find Jesus near the tomb they fall and embrace his feet. No social distancing here. The angel doesn’t say, “Go to Galilee but wait until the stay at home order is lifted. Then you can go and be together.” I am so looking forward to when we can be together in worship.

But the angel is also sending them into the world. And Jesus will do the same. When he meets them in Galilee, he tells them go, and make disciples of all nations, and baptize and teach. They are sent to be missionaries. They have seen the death of Jesus, they have been with the risen Jesus and they are now sent to tell this good news. And that is for us too. We are sent to our families, our places of work, our community. Someone said that missionaries are simply ordinary people with a vision for better world that they want to share. We can do that. We can be missionaries. We followers of the risen Jesus have a vision for a better world we want to share. We can do that in love and with grace.

I have heard about some churches that have a sign above the exit door that says, “You are now entering mission territory.” That’s true for us too. A world stuck in COVID-19 needs to hear that good news. Amen.

Matthew 21:1-11, April 5, 2020, Sermon

“Is This the Best Time for a Parade?” 

Pastor Randy Butler

When you drive down Main Street in Baker City it is very clear that we are in shutdown mode. Restaurants are closed, stores are shutdown, hotels and motels are not open, the streets are empty. And of course it is true everywhere you go. I’ve been in Spokane this week, and the COVID-19 virus has shutdown things in Spokane as well. Beyond our local experience, on a larger scale, major events have been cancelled around the world. We began to see it few weeks ago when our local basketball tournaments were cancelled. And then the NCAA cancelled March Madness and Major League Baseball postponed their season. And the Olympics, the greatest worldwide celebration of all, is now put off for a year. These are devastating blows, but right now is not the time for worldwide celebrations, or national celebrations, or large gatherings, or games. Not the time for local celebrations and parades. People are getting very sick, and some are dying. And there is a lot of fear.

And now it’s Palm Sunday, the day on which the church usually celebrates the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem. We wave palm branches. We sing and we rejoice with the king who enters triumphantly to take his rightful place. “Hosanna to the Son of David, Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” But we immediately feel on this Palm Sunday a disconnect, between the rejoicing of this day, and what is taking place in our community and world. It definitely does not seem like the time for a Palm Sunday parade, or any other parade for that matter.

And yet for Jesus too there was a disconnect, and a kind of incongruity between this celebration at the gates of Jerusalem, and the reality of what lay before him as he entered the city. He knows that he is likely to ride into the arms of those who would arrest him and kill him, and yet he plans this very particular kind of public event anyway. Up to this point he has spent much of his time in Galilee, not quite ready to go public in Judea, in Jerusalem, where the real action was, where news about him would travel fast. But now he is ready, and he tells two of his disciples to go into Bethphage, a village just outside of Jerusalem, and to find a donkey and her colt. He has pre-arranged this or he has some kind of foreknowledge of this. He even tells the two disciples that if anyone asks you why you are taking these donkeys, just tell them the Lord needs them and they will let you go.

And so the disciples do just exactly as Jesus tells them and they return with these two animals. So Jesus very much wants this all to take place in a certain way, partly, says Matthew, to fulfill what the prophet says about him. But Jesus plans it, arranges it, and puts it into action, this entry, this parade into the Holy City. He is very intentional about it. He is not a victim, unaware of what is taking place, naively riding into certain danger. He knows the danger, and yet he does it anyway. He parades anyway. At best this triumphal entry seems premature, like announcing, “Mission accomplished” before the mission is really accomplished. In the same way, for us today to hold a parade would be a stark contrast to the reality around us. We are simply not ready to hold a parade yet, because we have not yet triumphed over this enemy virus among us. We can’t declare victory yet. And yet Jesus parades. Why, we ask?

A couple of reasons. First, it helps sometimes to act like you’re winning even when you’re losing. This is the Russell Wilson attitude. For Seattle Seahawks Quarterback Russell Wilson it is never too late to win the game, even if there is just one minute left and you’re two touchdowns behind. Just act like you are going to win. Sometimes we have to laugh in dark times like this. Sometimes we have to sing. The creativity and community that is being built online in this time of social distancing is remarkable. I recently saw a video from Barcelona, Spain, where the streets are narrow and the apartment buildings high on both sides of the street. And one guy up on about the eighth floor of his building, brought his electric keyboard out on the balcony and started playing the theme song from the movie Titanic, "My Heart Will Go On". Hundreds of people came out on their balconies and sang along. One man brought out his saxophone and played along. We are finding ways to rejoice when it doesn’t seem possible, or even right, to do so. These are our little acts of defiance, our ways of whistling in the dark, whistling at the dark, and saying “No” to the dark and to disease and sickness. We throw a parade anyway. It’s like saying with the apostle Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" "What do you have to say for yourself now, O death?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)

Let’s be careful here. This doesn’t mean we are foolish. Our defiance of the darkness does not mean our defiance of recent laws and orders regarding our behavior during the spread of this virus. We take precautions, we do the things we are told to do to prevent and protect, and we do our part. So if our parade isn’t a literal one, it can be a kind of spiritual parade.

And there is more here. This is the second thing we see in Jesus’ actions. Jesus’ triumphal entry is sort of a sneak preview of the way the story ends. It may not seem like a reality yet, but Jesus is hinting at the final chapter in the story of God’s love for and redemption of our world, when he rides triumphantly into Jerusalem, people singing, praising God, even in the face of death on a cross. This is a hint of resurrection triumph to come. “Where O death is your sting – thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:57), adds Paul in that passage from First Corinthians. Later in his second letter to them he says, “But thanks be to God who always leads us in triumphal procession.” (2 Corinthians 2:14) And to the Colossians he says that Jesus’ crucifixion disarms the rulers and authorities and makes a public example of them, triumphing over them in the cross. (Colossians 2:15)

Friends, the Coronavirus does not have the last word in this story, in our story. Whatever sickness and death and fear we have now is not the final word. The anxiety we have about ourselves, our loved ones, about our finances, about our community. These things, these thoughts, these feelings - they are very real, just as Jesus’ crucifixion was very painful and very real. But just as his cross in his time was not the final chapter so our cross in our time is not the final chapter. And just as he rides on in triumph so may we courageously do the same, because we trust in God the author of the story and who we trust will one day bring our story, the world’s story, to its redemptive and loving conclusion. Amen.