Sermon: Meeting violence with love (Mar. 11, 2018)

Lent 4 (NL4)

March 11, 2018

John 18:28-40

INTRODUCTION:

            “He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried.” We all know his name: Pontius Pilate. He lives in infamy in our creeds. All four Gospels include in the passion narrative an account of Jesus’ trial before Pilate. But John’s account is the longest. We’ll hear part of it today, and more of it next week. So before we get into it, I wanted to give you a little info on this famous character in the story of Jesus’ passion.

            Pilate was a Roman prefect, and a notoriously brutal one. He even had to be removed from one post in Samaria because he had been so harsh in stopping an uprising. In the first century, Philo, the Jewish philosopher, described Pilate as having “vindictiveness and furious temper.” In governance, Philo describes Pilate’s “corruption, his acts of insolence…, his habit of insulting people, and his cruelty, and his continued murders of people untried and uncondemned, and his never-ending, and gratuitous, and most grievous inhumanity.” Yeesh! All this makes it especially curious that Pilate seems to be trying to set Jesus free! Certainly an interesting character.

            Now, about Jesus’ and Pilate’s conversation: Remember back when we started John’s Gospel, I talked about how in John, Jesus pulls a kingdom of God canopy over the world, and Jesus talks from “up here” in the land of spirit and light, while people of “the world” (and Pilate certainly represents “the world”!) talk “down here” from the land of flesh and darkness. This is abundantly clear in this exchange between Jesus and Pilate. Jesus talks about how his kingdom is not of this world, and Pilate has no clue what he’s talking about. So, let’s see if we can figure it out. Please rise. [READ]

Antonio Ciseri, Ecce Homo ("Behold the Man")

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

            In an exercise with our confirmation class this past week, I asked the students to describe the world 20 years ago, the world today and what they predict the world will be like in 20 years. It was hilarious to hear them try to describe the world as it was when I was their age. But it was disheartening to hear some of their descriptions of the world today. “Scary,” they said. “Violent. High crime.” I agree with them. The world today is a scary place, for a lot of reasons. In many ways, it does not feel physically or emotionally safe, and it is difficult for people or societies to thrive in that environment.

            “My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus tells Pilate. Well, I should hope not! I hope that God’s kingdom is something utterly different than this world so often full of tears, loss, pain, and sadness. Yet, I don’t think Jesus is talking here about an afterlife, or heaven. Throughout John, Jesus has been the light of the world, dwelling in and overcoming this darkness. He has brought God’s kingdom to earth. And so, I think when he refers to “his kingdom,” he is referring not to some different place, but to a way of life – right now – that is of God. A way of life that is “belonging to the truth,” as he says. Isn’t that what we pray for, after all, when we say, “Thy kingdom come”? We’re not praying that we would go to God’s kingdom, somewhere else, but that God’s kingdom would come here, on earth as it is in heaven. Whatever it is that makes God’s kingdom, God’s kingdom, we pray that it would come here, to earth, and soon!

            So… what does that mean? What is it that we are praying to come here? Well, looking back over John, Jesus has made pretty clear that to “belong to the truth,” to have abundant life, to live as a part of God’s kingdom… means to be in an abiding relationship with God. In other words, God’s kingdom is about relationship. And while yes, the primary relationship we’re talking about here is the one we have with God, we could also say that our relationship with God is played out in our relationships with one another. After all, what commandment did Jesus give after he washed the disciples’ feet? … That we love one another as God has loved us.

            Love one another. That’s what it looks like for God’s kingdom to be here and now. Love one another. Sounds simple enough, yeah? Of course depending on the situation and the people involved, loving one another can be pretty difficult. I wanted to talk about one such difficult situation for loving today because Jesus brings it up, and that is: violence. “If my kingdom were from this world,” Jesus says, “my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish authorities. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” In other words, in the kingdom of this world, “down here,” the one of flesh and darkness, people fight one another when they feel threatened – just like we saw last week, when Peter pulled his sword in the garden. Peter, Jesus’ follower, was willing to fight for him to keep him from being handed over! But Jesus says no. Jesus told him to put that sword away, because that is not the way of his kingdom. Jesus’ kingdom is something different. In Jesus’ kingdom, his followers don’t resort to violence.

            Now, I think a word about the meaning of violence is necessary here. Usually when we hear that word, “violence,” we think of physical violence – weapons, or hand-to-hand fighting, the sort Peter demonstrated. But I think words can be just as violent, maybe even more so. The childhood chant about sticks and stones is simply not true – words can and do hurt us. Bones heal in a few weeks, but the damage done over the years to our hearts and spirits – and yes, to our relationships – by people’s words can be incredibly difficult to overcome. And so if we are talking about a kingdom of God that is based on loving relationships, we need to address how we talk to one another.

This past Wednesday, as a part of our Lenten series on healing and wholeness, a group of us gathered with Kit Miller from the Gandhi Institute for Non-Violence. We talked about whether it was possible to have “conflict without contempt.” What would be required, she asked, for us not just to agree to disagree, which is sort of passive, but to actively work toward peace and restoration, even if we don’t end up agreeing with each other? We talked about how usually when we feel angry, it is a sign that there is some other emotion going on that is presenting itself as anger. If a child runs in front of a car and narrowly escapes injury, the parent will grab the child by the arm and say, “Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear me??” The parent seems angry. What do you think is the real emotion there? … Fear. So Kit challenged us, next time we are acting angry, to consider what the real emotion is behind that anger. We talked about how, when a conflict is present, whether big or small, it is because some emotional need is not being met, and she provided some tools for determining what our needs are. Once you can name the need, you can start working toward seeing that the need is filled in a healthy way, and conflict without contempt becomes possible.

I can’t speak for others who were present, but for me, as we worked through various scenarios, it felt as if my heart was weeping and healing, all at once. I felt like the struggles, needs and hopes of my heart were being acknowledged, named, spoken aloud. I felt hope – hope that we as a society can, actually, love each other, even in the midst of division and conflict, and that there is indeed such a thing as “conflict without contempt.” I felt hope that Jesus’ “out-of-this-world” kingdom can exist even in this broken world.

Martin Luther King, Jr., as you know, was a champion of non-violence. He drew a lot from the teachings of Gandhi, but his primary strength and guidance came from Jesus, especially his words in the Sermon on the Mount. This week I came across this wonderful quote from Dr. King, that could have come straight out of John’s Gospel: “The ultimate weakness of violence,” he says, “is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder the hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

Jesus’ kingdom, Jesus’ truth, invites us to something different from violence – something a whole lot harder, but absolutely worth the effort. Is it risky? Sure. Who ever thought love wasn’t risky? Love is what got Jesus hung on a cross, after all. Love makes us vulnerable. It softens our hard hearts, and removes our guard.

But it also offers a lot more hope than the alternative. Love does diminish the evil. Love does establish the truth. Love does decrease the hate. And love does bring the Truth and the Light – indeed Christ himself – into the darkness of this world.

So… which followers do we want to be? The followers of this worldly kingdom, who try to overcome violence with violence, who fight to keep Jesus from being handed over? Or do we want to do the hard work of the followers of Jesus’ kingdom, who strive toward love and non-violence, who strive to mend and heal and build relationships, even when conflict threatens to destroy?

“For God so loved the world that He gave his only Son so that we would not perish but have eternal life.” What a gift of love. If God loves us that much, then I, for one, would like to find it in myself to seek the more difficult, but also more loving path in my encounters with God’s other beloved children. It is hard work. But I believe this work can bring healing to this dark and broken world.

Let us pray… Loving God, you are the Light that dispels the darkness. You are the Love that establishes truth. You are the Truth, and the Way, and the Life. Help us to be citizens of your kingdom, who seek to overcome contempt and darkness with your love and light. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Two and a half years of Grace

March 10, 2018

My dear Big Girl,

This girl just pooped in the potty
for the first time!

We've (almost) reached a milestone: potty training! While we're still working on consistency with #2, you are pretty darn good at peeing in the potty, and you take it very seriously.

We’re so proud of you, Grace! You are such a brave little girl – you faced something really scary and overcame it. You kept trying. You are truly amazing. Now, you are quite proud that you wear “underwears,” like some of your friends at daycare (and you can name all the friends who do).

Like most of your milestones, watching you meet this one has shown us so much about who you

Chose this outfit herself!

are. You are earnest, and you want badly to do a good job. You are fiercely independent, often choosing to go in the bathroom alone and shut the door, and insisting on doing all the steps yourself. You are responsible – you get up in the morning and go about your Grace business, then at some point remember and say aloud, “Oh! I go potty!” and run to the bathroom. Then you narrate all the steps, diligently making sure you are doing the best you can. You have a strong sense of self and solid self-esteem, congratulating yourself and celebrating when you do well, and recognizing but not getting too down on yourself when you make a mistake.

And through all of it – you are every day more funny, smart, kind, helpful and imaginative. Earlier today, you suggested we have a dance party in the bathroom after you finished your business. You are at the age now where imaginative play is really apparent. You love to pretend that our bed is a boat, and you get the whole family in the boat with your paddle, and we all become characters from Moana, who are trying to catch fish and get away from monsters (it appears we have an infestation at our house - they were also in the potty, apparently, until I made a monster-dispelling wand for you, and now that situation seems to have mostly cleared up). 

Helping mom in the kitchen

You are in love with the hand puppet daddy made up, “Batti” (there is a Daddy Batti, a Mommy Batti, and a Baby Batti, which is you), and you will take Batti and stroke him and put him to sleep and tell him you love him. 

You’re a kind and compassionate big sister, stroking Isaac’s head and telling him, “It’s all right,” when he cries, and informing us of what his need is (“Isaac wants milk.”). 

You make up songs – and demand I do the same at bedtime, as you request songs about various things you are thinking about, and I do my best to deliver. You think often of your friends from daycare and include them in our songs and games. 

You have taken an interest in helping me in the kitchen. You pull over a chair (by yourself, of course – if I help, you push it back where it started and do it again), and stand right up where you can see. I let you dump things in bowls, stir, or sometimes, even sauté. We talk about the colors, and I give you taste tests (you always like things better right out of the pot). Then you rush off to your play kitchen, put on your apron, and make dinner for everyone, reminding us to be careful because, “It’s really hot.” Sometimes, you even help me with the dishes, either washing or putting away. I’m so grateful for your help!

Watching the Nutcracker and dancing
(she said, "I need my dress!" so she could twirl).

You love Thomas the Train so much, and especially you love Gordon, and are learning his token phrase, “Oh, the indignity!” which is of course adorable. You like to play with your wooden train set with daddy. And of course, your Thomas shirt: you have this shirt that is for 12-18m size, but you want to wear it Ever. Single Day. Nothing else will do. And you believe this shirt will protect you from any inclimate weather, any monsters, anything. No surprise, it's what you were wearing the first time you successfully pooped on the potty... but it makes sense, since you wear it ever other day. And as soon as it is clean, you take off what you're wearing and put on "My Thomas." (Yes, we have purchased other Thomas items, but your favorite remains the one that is too small.)

Snow bunny LOVES the snow

You also love to watch “E-I-O,” which is what you call this bunch of nursery rhymes with little animations. You know SO many songs, and always know the right time to sing them. You are very enamored with my ukulele (which you call a violin) and with my old, plastic recorder (which you call an oboe), and increasingly interested in dancing. Miss Kerri says when the lady comes who does music at daycare, you do so well. “She doesn’t just do it. She gets it,” she said. You’ve got a song in you, kid! Let it sing! I can’t wait to hear more of the tune as you grow older.

In short, my Grace, I think you’re tops. Every day with you is a joy and a delight. Thank you for being your wonderful self!

                                                                                                Love always,

                                                                                                Your mama

15 months of Laughter

March 10, 2018

Dear Isaac Karl,

You are now the age that Grace was when you were born. She seemed so big to us then, and at the same age you still feel like our baby boy – but really, you are such a big boy! You can do more and more all on your own, and keep impressing us with what you know. You love to help put things away, you are always exploring things and learning about them, and of course you are always trying to do whatever sister does. You are smart, kid. At just over a year, you started

saying some sentences. We kept looking at each other and saying, “Did he just say…? Nah…” but you were consistent. You say, “Read a book?” and, “I want down,” “I want bottle,” and “I want the ball,” and an assortment of single words as well, including bye-bye, mama, dada, Grace, cheese, yellow, yeah, and a few others. (At this stage in talking most words sound like, “ball” but it is usually pretty clear what you are referring to!) You still have your sweet little raspy voice, and you love to try out new sounds, sometimes in the form of long, serious monologues. This morning you were letting your voice slide up and down, checking out all the different registers (which would have been much cuter if it had not been quite so early!).

Books are your favorite thing in the world. You bring one over, looking hopefully up at us, say, “Read a book?” and when we take the book, you double over giggling in happiness and start crawling into our lap, and settle in for a good read. I’m so pleased with this – I thought we would ruin you because we hardly ever read to you as a little baby. Bedtime with two was hard, and Grace is such a book hog that every time we would try to read to you, she would muscle her way in and steal the lap and the book. Now that you are stronger, you do this back, and now you two get about equal time with books. Sometimes you will happily sit through an entire book (even read along with us), but sometimes you are just too eager for another book, and after a few pages you get up and find another one for us to read. Your favorite books right now includeFreight Train; Moo, Baa, La La La; Goodnight Moon; Doggies (A Counting and Barking Book); and Very Hungry Caterpillar. (You like sticking your fingers through the holes – it brings you much glee!) You also love the set of 10 chunky nursery rhyme books we have, and almost always carry one around with you. Whatever the book, you “read” along and point at the pictures, because you know pointing is what you’re supposed to do with a book.

You also love music. When Miss Jen comes to do music at daycare, you participate fully! She said she had never had a baby as young as you be able to participate as much as you do. Proud mama moment! You like to play our instruments at home, too. Last night we played my ukulele together, and you were loving it. You grinned and strummed and grinned some more. Since the day you came into this world, I have thought you would play the violin someday, and watching you take to this stringed instrument made me imagine all over again what sort of musician you might grow up to be. (No pressure!)

As you grow older, you’re becoming a bit of a ham! Daddy brought out the camera yesterday, and you immediately stopped what you were doing and, I kid you not, you grinned and posed, arms out, like, “Here I am, world!” and you held the pose and tried a few others while Dad kept snapping pictures. When music comes on, you start dancing and grinning, and, your favorite, spinning in circles. I thought Grace was the performer, but I think you’ll give her a run for her money!

For all of your wonderful qualities, you are also, these days, growing very clingy. You do not want to be left alone, and if you had your druthers you would be held all the time, preferably by me. On the one hand, any problem you have is quickly solved by my picking you up – which I am often compelled to do because the more adamant you get the more your cries resemble those of a tortured bird of some sort (seriously, kid, it’s the worst), and your face looks like I have just

given you the worst possible news. If I ignore you, so as to show you who is boss and that I cannot be manipulated, you will put your head on the ground with butt in air, and scream into the ground. I have a feeling your “terrible twos” might actually be, really terrible. You can throw a tantrum with the best of them.

You also are showing a bit of a mischievous streak. You have figured out how to get out of the high chair, and if you aren’t climbing down, you are standing up, and crawling out onto the table. You know this is wrong because as soon as you are caught, you look guilty and return to sitting. You go places you know you shouldn’t and when we say, “Isaac, come out from there,” you grin and shake your head. You’re so quiet, you are always slipping away and into something you shouldn’t be in, you rascal! But then you get caught and it is all love and giggles again and where your tantrums are the worst, your giggles are, in fact, the most beautiful sound in the world, so all is forgiven.

We love you so much, my dear son! I love getting to know you more each day. Keep shining.

                                                                               Your proud Mom

Sermon: Peter's denial, and ours (Mar. 4, 2018)

Lent 3 (NL4)

March 4, 2018)

Peter’s Denial (John 18:12-27)

INTRODUCTION:

            A lot has happened since the last story we hear. Where we left off last week, Jesus had washed the disciples’ feet, describing this as an act of deep and devoted love, and imploring the disciples to follow his example by washing one another’s feet. Directly following that is what is known as the “farewell discourse.” For four chapters, Jesus explains to the eleven remaining disciples (Judas has already left to go betray him) that Jesus is going to the Father, and that the Holy Spirit will be coming to guide the disciples in faith. He tells them to love one another as he has loved them. He warns them of the challenges and persecutions they will face, but assures them that the world cannot overcome them, because Jesus has overcome the world. He finishes the discourse by praying for them, praying, “that they would all be one, as the Father and I are one.”

            Then they all head out to the garden, and there they meet Judas and the soldiers and police, who are wielding swords and torches. They say they are looking for Jesus, and Jesus willingly hands himself over. Ever impulsive and eager to please, Peter leaps into action, pulling out his sword and cutting off the ear of the slave of the high priest. He must have missed the previous four chapters in which Jesus told them to resort not to violence, but to love one another! Jesus tells him to put his sword away, adding, “Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?” And that brings us to today’s story.

            Today we really get into the passion narrative. One thing to notice about John’s telling of this story, today and in the coming weeks, is that Jesus is absolutely willing, from start to finish. He will not pray that the Father let this cup pass from him, he will not cry out in anguish from the cross. He is fulfilling God’s will, at just the right time and place. Of course Jesus’ calm is in sharp contrast so the immense anxiety felt by the other characters in the story, so watch today how that plays out. Please rise.

[READ]

Ethiopian, 17th century
Accessed at http://cr.middlebury.edu/bulgakov/public_html/peter.html

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

A couple weeks ago, I spent two days at an event learning about family systems theory, especially how it can be applied to leadership in a congregation. What is family systems theory? In short, it sees any group of people who spend a lot of time together as a system, in which each member is affected by another’s actions. We are, each of us, formed by our family of origin, and then what we learned there plays itself out in whatever other systems we find ourselves in.

In particular, training yourself to see things through a systems lens helps you see how anxiety plays out. Now, anxiety is something we all feel, at various levels, and it can be triggered by all kinds of things. If you had a parent who left you as a child, you may find yourself getting anxious whenever you sense in life you are being abandoned by something you care about. If, as a child, your parents used food as a bargaining chip, you may find you have an anxious relationship with food as an adult. If you were a middle child always seeking to be noticed, you may spend the rest of your life trying to please people. And if you don’t get what your child’s heart determined you need, then your anxiety is triggered. That anxiety can play out in all kinds of different ways – as anger, sadness, fear, overcompensating, as making jokes at inappropriate times, perhaps as trying to make others feel as anxious as you do to diffuse your own anxiety, by offloading some of your anxiety onto someone else... or usually, some combination.

Now, not all anxiety is bad – indeed it is necessary for survival! If you don’t feel anxious when you meet a bear, then you become that bear’s lunch! But when the role of anxiety is not recognized and named, it can wreck all kinds of havoc in our relationships, in our families, in our workplaces, and yes, even in our churches.

Today, in our journey through John’s Gospel, we truly enter into the Passion narrative. And with my mind on family systems, I am also noticing the anxiety in that story – an anxiety that is so perfectly carried out in Peter’s story. Let’s recall again what happened directly before this scene, in the garden. When the police come to take Jesus away, Peter’s instinct is to unsheathe his sword and go for a man’s head. In other words, his first, anxious instinct is to meet the threat with violence – even though Jesus specifically told them in many and various ways that as disciples they are called to love one another, even when the loving gets tough. (After all, let us know forget that just before this, Jesus knowingly washed the feet of his own betrayer, Peter who would deny him, and the rest who would desert him at their first opportunity! For Jesus, “love one another” does not depend upon someone deserving love or not. Love means love, for everyone.)

But in a moment of such intense anxiety, it should be no surprise that Peter’s instinct would be not to love, but to fight… because isn’t that true for all of us? Most people, when they feel threatened or are in a high anxiety situation, resort not to love, but either to attack, or to protect. Fight or flight. We’ve seen these reactions following the Parkland shooting, in the call for more guns, in the form of arming teachers, or putting resource officers in schools, or by tightening school security. Defend and prepare to attack. We see it also in our personal relationships – if someone says something hurtful to me, my first instinct, whether or not I act on it, is either to defend myself, to attack back, or at the very least to go complain to someone else, “Do you know what so-and-so said to me? What a terrible person!” …which is its own sort of violence. Am I alone in this? I didn’t think so! And so to see Peter draw his sword seems to us, fellow anxiety-prone humans, like a completely reasonable reaction – it is a normal first instinct.

But Jesus calls for more than an instinctual reaction. He calls for a response – in fact, to a loving response. “Put your sword away,” Jesus tells him, and then willingly goes with the police to his certain death. And so now here we are where our text begins. Back in that upper room where Jesus had washed their feet, Peter had vowed he would never leave Jesus’ side, even if it meant dying right along with him, and so, Peter follows Jesus into the city. I suspect Peter’s anxiety at that point had never been so high. His friend was in danger, and when he tried to defend him, he got rebuked. He feels helpless, and afraid, maybe even a little ashamed – all anxiety triggers. Yes, Peter is anxious. And, we all know from experience, that when we are anxious, we rarely behave at our best.

And so when comes the ultimate test of his loyalty – when the first person asks him, “Aren’t you one his disciples?” – Peter’s anxiety gets the best of him. He knows better now than to attack; this time he chooses defense. He responds, “No, I am not.” Remember, throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus has identified himself as, “I am.” I am the Good Shepherd. I am the Door. I am the Light of the World. I am the Resurrection and the Life. I AM. And so here, in utter contrast to and denial of all that Jesus is, Peter offers his anxious, if somewhat pathetic, “I am not.” He not only denies Jesus, he denies himself, dismissing his own story, his own identity as a disciple, in favor of keeping himself safe.

One commentator on this passage observes, “Violence is easier than testimony.” From the beginning of John’s Gospel, we have seen the importance of testimony in the life of faith. John the Baptist came to testify to the light. Philip invites Nathanial to “come and see.” The Samaritan women at the well runs into town to tell everyone about the man who told her everything she has ever done. The man born blind testifies, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” And now, Peter himself has the opportunity to testify, “Yes, I am his disciple!” … and he balks. He misses his big chance. When he felt threatened in the garden, he quickly sprang for the sword… but testifying is so much harder. Testifying takes some serious guts – vulnerability, courage, conviction, assurance of self. And it also takes a whole lot of love, of God, self and neighbor. In his anxiety, Peter can tap into none of this. And so he denies his Lord, and he denies his own identity as a disciple of Christ.

            It makes me wonder – have we, as individuals or as the church, ever allowed our own anxiety to lead us to deny our identity as disciples of Christ? Have we fallen short of testifying our commitment to the demanding, self-giving, high-risk love that Jesus demonstrated as he washed the feet of his own betrayer? When we feel anxious – about the world, about our relationships, about our future, about our safety – when we feel anxious, is there some part of our Christian identity we would be willing to deny, in order to make ourselves feel a little safer?

I’ll answer for myself, but not with pride: absolutely. Jesus’ command to “love one another” would have me put my safety and interests secondary to the love and care of outcasts, even people who I see as dangerous, sketchy, or who make me nervous. I don’t want to do that. I want to feel safe and prepared for anything.

To “love one another” by Jesus’ definition would have me find it in my heart to let go of resentments toward people who have hurt me deeply, to forgive them, even to serve them. I’m not comfortable with that.

Jesus’ “love one another” command would even have me find a way to love a mass shooter (not condone his actions, but to love him with the love of Christ, by seeing him as the broken human being in need of love that he is). I definitely do not want to do that.

All of those things make me very anxious. A lot of things in the world right now make me very anxious. And sometimes, our anxiety does get the better of us, just like Peter’s. Sometimes we find we, like Peter, would sooner deny being disciples, or at least just pick and choose what parts of discipleship work for us, if it means we can feel safer and less anxious. But the question that I am trying to let guide me, as I navigate this demanding life of faith, is, “What does the love of Jesus look like in this instance? What would Jesus have me do?” …and then, striving for that.

And even as we fail (and we know we will – this is hard!), we can also find consolation in the fact that, even though Peter chose violence over love, and safety over testimony, God still had an important use for him. This darkest moment of his life of faith will not, finally, define Peter. After the resurrection, Jesus will come to Peter and ask him – three times – “Do you love me?” and then tell him to feed his sheep. And Peter does! Peter will have plenty more chances to testify to the love of Christ, in thought, word and deed, and because of Peter’s testimony, many – even thousands! – will come to faith in Christ. That is grace. That is the promise that God can use even us bunch of sinners and Christ-deniers for good. That is the story of the resurrection – that God’s power and love can overcome even our anxiety, just as Jesus overcame the world.

Let us pray… Gracious God, calm our anxieties and bring us your peace, as we navigate this broken world and seek to live into our identity as disciples, and help us to testify in all cases to your self-giving, life-changing love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.