"Do We Love Jesus?" A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on the Third Sunday of Easter.

"Feed My Sheep." Photo taken at the Primacy of Peter site, in Galilee, by Fran Hayes 

"Do We Love Jesus?"

John 21:1-19; Acts 9:1-20

We’re now two weeks past Easter Sunday.  But for a lot of folk, Easter already seems long ago and far away.   For some, great joy and hope have given way to the routine of daily life:  family responsibilities…health issues…work concerns.  In the midst of it all, what does the Resurrection mean?  What difference does it make?  Has it changed anything?

            In the last chapter of John, we hear how, after the Resurrection, the disciples’ lives don’t seem to have changed.  They have seen the risen Jesus.  But they’ve gone back to the same old thing they used to do.  They’ve gone fishing. 

            The disciples had given up everything to follow Jesus.  But he’d been crucified and buried.  They’re grieving… frustrated… confused. 

            True, they knew that Jesus had been raised from the dead.  But what did that mean?  What difference did it make? 

            So, they go back to something familiar—what they’d been doing before Jesus came into their lives.  They go fishing.  They fish all night.  But they don’t catch anything. 

            Yet, as the disciples return to the way things used to be, the risen Jesus seeks them out once again.  At dawn, they see a stranger on the shoreline, but they don’t recognize him. But Jesus knows them. This “stranger” calls to them with a term of endearment, “children.”

Jesus comes to them in their ordinary lives, and he blesses them.  He calls out to them, “You don’t have any fish, do you?”

            No.

            Then he tells them how to fish: “Cast your net on the right side of the boat, and you’ll find some.”

            The catch is so enormous that they can’t haul it in. There are fish of all kinds. The symbolic significance of the number—one hundred fifty-three—is lost on modern readers. But the meaning of the story is not: there are fish of all kinds. This is an abundance that is inclusive and diverse.

            This story reprises themes in several other traditional stories about the disciples: the work of the disciples as fishermen…the radical call for them to become fishers of people… and the reminder that Jesus told the disciples that “apart from me you can do nothing.”[1]

            John recognizes Jesus, and says, “It’s the Lord!”  Then Peter leaps into the water and swims toward Jesus.  Jesus knows how deeply Simon Peter needs to be forgiven for the three times he denied his relationship with Jesus on that awful night before Jesus was crucified.  Jesus says, three times: “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” 

            Peter responds with an affirmation of his love, saying, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”  Three times.  “Tend my sheep.”  “Feed my sheep.”

            Instead of praising his declarations, Jesus tells Peter that one day he will stretch out his hands    and someone will take him where he does not wish to go.   Feeding lambs and tending sheep can cost us—even cost us our lives.  It is work that will link our lives to pain and suffering.  It will lead us many places we don’t want to go.  If we love Jesus, our relationship with him will change us.

            On this third Sunday in Eastertide, the lectionary gives us two stories of transformation. The stories we heard are about two great saints of the church, Peter and Paul.  In the book of Acts, we encounter Saul, who was introduced in chapter 7, as the young man who was present when the angry mob stoned Stephen to death.  Luke tells us that Saul took care of their coats for them, that he approved of their killing Stephen, and that he was ravaging the church by entering house after house, dragging off both men and women believers, and imprisoning them.[2]

            In the story we heard today from Acts, Saul is “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.”  He has gone to the high priest and gotten letters of authorization to the synagogues of Damascus, so he can look for followers of the Way and bring them back to Jerusalem in chains.

            Now, Saul was well-educated and devout.  He was someone who had his faith and values all figured out.  His mission in life was to stamp out the movement of those who followed the risen Jesus on the Way.  Saul was very certain that he was right—and they were wrong.

            So far in Acts, Saul is described almost entirely in terms of his certainty and his violence.   It is this violence that Jesus addresses when he speaks out of the heavenly light, saying, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

            By identifying himself as the one whom Saul is persecuting, Jesus identifies with the believers in their suffering, and he makes Saul’s violence a central issue of his conversion.

            The voice of the risen Christ intrudes and devastates Saul’s self-confident journey.  He opens his eyes, but he can’t see.  He has to be led around by the hand, and he doesn’t eat or drink for three days.   Saul, who knows so much about religion, who could quote chapter and verse of the scriptures, is rendered helpless by the blinding light on the road to Damascus.  He needs to be led by the hand, healed, and instructed by the very ones he’d planned to round up and bind and drag back to Jerusalem to face the religious authorities.

            What happens to Saul on the road to Damascus becomes a transformative moment.  When Paul encountered the risen Christ, he was blinded by the brightness of the light of Christ and transformed-- from a man committed to aggression and persecution of those who were different, those who challenged what he believed— to one who was lost and struggling.  In the process of his conversion, Paul learns that the agenda he set for himself was futile, and that God’s plan is the only plan that matters. 

            Peter’s encounter with the Risen Christ helped to transform him from someone who was afraid to admit he even knew Jesus—into an apostle who was empowered to jump out of his familiar boat into waters that were over his head     and walk bravely into the world with resurrection power and hope. 

            In this third resurrection appearance, we hear Peter getting a new chance, as he experiences Jesus’ resurrection power in a quiet way over breakfast.

           The Risen Christ appears to the disciples, makes them breakfast, and then dialogues with Peter on the nature of discipleship. Loving Jesus leads to feeding God’s sheep, providing for their physical and spiritual hungers.

            Those who encounter Christ are called to reach out to the world sharing good news for body, mind, and spirit.

In an ordinary place and meal, the disciples receive a kind of re-commissioning.  They are reminded who they are and what they were called to be and do. 

            Easter is about living out our identity and calling as if we truly believe that Jesus has overcome sin and death.  It’s about living as if we trust in his gift of abundant, eternal life.    It means following Jesus, embodying Jesus’ love. It means being with Jesus as we gather together to hear the good news… and in the places we are led to serve.

            “Do you love me?”  Jesus asks us. Then, feed my lambs.

            Jesus calls his disciples to follow him.  Yet, we know all too well that the compelling call of human need often feels like it is taking us to places we don’t want to go.  Our ability and willingness to go there will be a testimony to the clarity and passion of our Christian discipleship.  Our ability and willingness to follow Jesus is a sign of how we are being transformed.

            The first disciples huddled behind locked doors, or went back to their old familiar routines.  They struggled with fear about how Jesus calls his followers to go places where they don’t want to go.

            When I get impatient with myself for my lack of courage, or my reluctance to go some of the places Jesus might call me to go in his name, I find comfort and hope in the conviction that God isn’t finished with me yet.  God isn’t finished with any of us yet.

            We have Christ’s promise that he will not leave us alone.  He will be with us, to help and to guide us…to provide for our needs…and to comfort and care for us.   The One who commands us to embody his love and light in the world   promises us that we will be given the power we need through the Holy Spirit.

           Again and again, Jesus asks us, “Do you love me?”   This is no cheap grace Christ offers us.  Again and again, Jesus calls us: “Follow me.”

            Do you love me?  Jesus asks.

            Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep.  Feed my sheep.

            Just as Jesus met with his first disciples at dawn on the Sea of Galilee, Jesus comes to us.  Jesus keeps coming to us to teach us and to lead us to places where we’d never have thought to go.  

            The gospel reminds us that God can make a way where there is no way, bringing abundance where there is scarcity, and joy where there has been sorrow.  Jesus’ resurrection gives us the promise of life after death, and the assurance of God’s healing and restoration in this life.

Today, in this time and place, as long ago, Jesus does many signs in the presence of his disciples.   We have the witness of the gospel, which was written “so that we may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God…and that through believing, we may have life in his name.”

Jesus meets us where we work, where we despair, or where we question or doubt. Whether we’re still feeling “up” from Easter or feeling let down, Jesus keeps coming to us.

            Jesus meets us in in our friends or in strangers.  He challenges us with a task to do—caring for his people.  He gives us work that truly satisfies us, and invites us to make him more and more the center of our lives.  One way or another, Jesus comes back and calls us to himself and to his new life. 

            Do you love me?  Then feed my sheep. Tend my lambs.

            As individuals and as a congregation, we often fall short of being the loving, compassionate, generous, welcoming people God created us to be.  We don’t always follow through.  Sometimes we even fall away for a while and go back to whatever felt familiar before we recognized the Risen Christ. 

            But Jesus doesn’t give up on us.  After each time we fail…or forget… or are overcome by our fears, Jesus comes to us again and invites us to try again, providing encouragement and nourishment, and calls us to put our love into action, caring for the world God loves.  If you love me, show it through your actions.   “Feed my sheep.”

Jesus comes to us today, this morning, inviting us to start again Easter-fresh, saying, “Follow me.”

            Thanks be to God!  Alleluia!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

May 5, 2019

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[1] John 15:5

[2] Acts 7:58-8:1

"Words of Life," a sermon on John 6:56-69, from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

Today the scripture passages given to us by the lectionary have something that could offend most everyone.  First, there is Joshua, hero of a book of wars, in which God serves as military commander of Israel’s invincible army.  As Barbara Brown Taylor puts it, Joshua is cleaned up for today’s speech at Shechem-- but he waded through blood to get there. 

            Then there’s today’s gospel lesson, which is the last in a four-part series on the bread of heaven.  The sixth chapter of John is full of statements that were offensive to those who heard them.  First Jesus suggested that he was God's own manna, come down from heaven to give life to the world.   Last week Jesus took the offense to an even higher level by choosing really gory words.   He uses the word for "chomp" or "gnaw", so that a more literal translation of his invitation would go something like this:  "Those who chomp my flesh and guzzle my blood have eternal life; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink."^[1]

            This is not a nice image.  As someone suggests, it sounds more like something for a butcher shop than for a church.  Add to that the fact that Hebrew scripture clearly forbids the drinking of blood, and you can understand why Jesus' followers began to pull away from him at that point.  "This teaching is difficult,"  they said.  "Who can accept it?"

           

            Any time we gather for Bible study, no matter what passage we study, if we take it seriously, eventually we might hear somebody ask, “Are we supposed to understand this literally or metaphorically?”   “If God did all that centuries ago—why is there such suffering in the world today?”  Or some other tough questions that keep coming up—some of them un-answerable.

            Jesus doesn’t give his first disciples simple answers—or a copy of “The Gospel for Dummies in Three Easy Steps.”  No.  Instead we have a paradoxical gospel that we’ll need to struggle with for the rest of our lives!  This teaching is difficult!

            If the disciples are going to follow Jesus all the way--  then they’re   going to have to give up their need to understand,  agree with, or approve of everything he said or did.   They’re going to have to believe him, even when he says something that offends them.  They’re going to have to trust him, even when what he does goes against everything they’ve been taught.  You can almost hear some of their minds slam shut. 

            Perhaps one of my colleagues, writing in The Christian Century a few years ago, has it right when he suggests that the real miracle in chapter six of John isn’t that Jesus fed thousands of people at the beginning—but that but that there were even a dozen disciples left by the end of the chapter.[2]

            When Jesus sees the crowds deserting him, he asks the twelve if they want to go away too. 

            Jesus wants them to know that following him on the way is no picnic.  The people in the crowd have their reasons for turning back.   Change is scary.   They don't want to give up their desires, their comforts, their security.  They want to follow Jesus on their own terms, without changing their priorities, without being uncomfortable.  They want to be in control of their lives.  So when Jesus challenges them and calls them to pay the cost of true, obedient discipleship--  a lot of them  leave.

            "Do you also wish to go away?"  Jesus asks.   

            This teaching is hard.   A lot of people aren’t looking to be challenged a lot in their faith.  So…at a time when many denominations and local congregations are seeking to grow or struggling to survive, doesn't it seem like a good idea to put out a message that will appeal to as many people as possible?  Wouldn't it be a matter of good business to find out what the customers want--and then give it to them?    The growing opposition to Jesus in this text seems to be the last word the church wants to hear today.

            But there's no way around the hard word of this Sunday's gospel lesson.  Jesus’ message didn’t didn't appeal to everyone.  Some people didn’t understand it. And some turned away because they did understand.

            The movement of the story in John 6 is telling:   one group after another turns away from Jesus.  At the beginning a huge crowd comes seeking Jesus… seeking what they hope he'll do for him.  In the beginning, the people who came because they want to be “fed” are happy with Jesus.  But later they become disillusioned by his words.  Some take offense at what he says.  Then, in today's text, Jesus' own disciples--  a larger group than "the twelve"--  become scandalized by his words and begin to desert him.           

            "Do you also wish to go away?"   Jesus asks.  Peter speaks for the little band of faithful disciples.  "Lord, to whom can we go?  You have the words of eternal life."

            What do you hear in Peter's response?  Peter is just as offended as anyone else by a lot of what Jesus is saying.  He keeps the traditional dietary laws.  We find out later, in the book of Acts, that Peter never eats forbidden foods, which would include meat with blood still in it.  The idea of gnawing flesh and drinking blood turns his stomach as badly as it does anyone else's.  But where is he to go?  As confusing as Jesus is, Peter has glimpsed something in him that he can't turn away from.  In Jesus, he has glimpsed God.  So, if trusting that means struggling with a whole lot of distasteful things that go with it, then Peter will stay and struggle.  He won't turn away from the life he has been led to--  even if it's miles from the life he thought he wanted.

            We live in a time when many people "shop" for the perfect church for themselves, a church they hope will meet their needs or satisfy their desires.   Peter’s words challenge a lot of us.

            There are times when some folk may be tempted to say,  "If my church votes the wrong way on this issue, I'm outa here."  Or,  "I can't belong to a church that would fund a project like that."  I couldn’t be part of a church that welcomes those people.  I wouldn’t belong to a church that believes that.     

            We may hear people saying,  "I don't go to church any more.  I couldn't take any more of the hypocrisy...  sexism...   liberals...   conservatives...   old-timey hymns with exclusive language...     new, unfamiliar hymns...  lousy preaching...      You can fill in the blank....

                       

            There are a lot of imperfect churches around--  large and small.        I agree with the way one of my colleagues puts it:  When the main reason not to belong to a church is that I can't find a community of faith that agrees with me on everything from what kind of music we should sing to where we should stand on homosexuality or abortion or the death penalty, then I have the perfect excuse never to belong to a church with more than one member--   me.^[3]

             There is no perfect church...  --  if perfect means that I understand, agree, or approve of everything that goes on there.  If you become a Christian, you get a Bible that says God helped Joshua exterminate whole tribes of people right down to the last baby.  You get a household code in Ephesians that makes wives subject to their husbands and tells husbands to sacrifice themselves for their wives… and slaves to submit to their masters.   But you also get the twenty-third psalm and the parable of the prodigal son."

            If you're a Presbyterian, you get a church that's been divided for decades over issues related to human sexuality, a church that was divided for decades over ordaining women to be pastors, elders and deacons…  a church that split over the issue of slavery and then took over a hundred years to get back together.  You get people who only want to sing the hymns they grew up singing… and some people who only want to sing contemporary music.  You get a church that’s been divided for decades over issues related to human sexuality, a church that through study and prayerful discernment has recently made some decisions that have thrilled a lot of people and disappointed and disturbed others.  You get a commitment to scholarly, faithful Bible study and theology and worship that once in awhile can fill you with awe and amazement when it helps us get a glimpse into the heart of God. 

           

            Jesus asked the twelve disciples, "Do you want to go away too?"

            Simon Peter spoke for the whole group when he said, "Lord, where can we go?  You have the words of eternal life." 

            Peter’s words can be a declaration of faith for an ambiguous and troubled world like ours and for people like us.  People who don’t understand everything about Jesus.  People who have plenty of unanswered questions, but keep hanging in there with him anyway.

            We know there are other options for pursuing spiritual enlightenment…  or we could choose not to pursue a spiritual path at all.  Yet some of us keep coming back to Jesus.  Maybe it’s because we’ve heard in his words something that rings true to us in deep ways.   Maybe it’s because whenever we’re in his presence we feel more alive.  Maybe it’s because when we’re joined with this imperfect group of people who are struggling to follow Jesus in the way of LOVE—we experience grace and joy.   Maybe it’s because we know we need to be part of the body of Christ to be encouraged and challenged to live into God’s kingdom of love and justice and peace and hope.

            In my study this week, I came across a story told by a Presbyterian pastor who was serving a church in Philadelphia. In The Christian Century, Wallace Bubar tells about a newcomer who came to their church and went through a new member class—but was reluctant to join.  He read a lot and asked a lot of questions.  He wasn’t sure if he was a skeptic…a seeker…or an agnostic, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t a Presbyterian.  He asked the pastor a lot of questions about the creeds…other religions…the relationship between faith and science…and what it means to believe in Jesus.  He nodded politely when the pastor tried to formulate answers to each question, but the pastor could tell he wasn’t persuading him. 

            In the end, this newcomer said, “Thanks.  I appreciate your time, but I just I just don’t think this is for me.”  They shook hands and parted.

            The next Sunday, the pastor noticed the man slip into a pew in the back of the church.  He stood and sang the hymns with everybody else, but he didn’t join in when they recited the creed.  But when it was time for communion, he came down the aisle.

            The pastor said he was thinking he’d like to ask this man if he’d had some kind of epiphany since they’d last talked, but he didn’t.  Instead, he said, “The body of Christ, given for you” as he gave him the bread.

            After the service, he greeted him and said, “I didn’t think we’d see you here again.” 

            The man shrugged—perhaps as Peter must have shrugged. 

            “Lord, where else can we go?” 

           

            Jesus Christ invites us to follow him in the way of love and life.  If we say "yes" to him, not just with our voices, but with our very lives, then we choose the path that leads to eternal life.

            I pray that we choose life!

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

August 23, 2015

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^[1]Barbara Brown Taylor, in a sermon on this text in Home By Another Way (Cowley, 1999), p. 176.

[2] Wallace W. Bubar,  in “Living by the Word” (The Christian Century, August 22, 2012), p. 20.

^[3]Taylor, p. 178