The New Jerusalem Revelation 21:1-6

I remember retreating to my high school library during study hall so that I could read Hal Lindsay's Late, Great Planet Earth. The book was a feast of modern-day interpretations of the text of the book of Revelation. It confirmed what Americans had suspected: Red China and the Soviet Union together comprised the beast mentioned in the apocalypse. Lindsay managed to associate many other countries and personalities with major themes in Revelation. I can offer a defense of my reading such a book: I didn't know better. Now I do, and so do many other Christians who have done even the most rudimentary Bible study. But, as the "Left Behind" series attests, folks still like the spooky "God is going to rub out the bad guys and take only we chosen Christians" way of looking at the world.
Chapter 21 mentions the New Jerusalem, which, to my way of thinking, means that the City of God has no resemblance to anything that we have formulated in our theologies and thoughts. But we still create our ideas of what it will be like to be with God, after we die, or when the world ends. As the Reverend Ike used to say, "I want apple pie in the sky when I die." Well, actually his was a prosperity gospel, so he wanted the apple pie now. Think Joel Osteen, with less greasy hair!
It is no coincidence that this passage from Revelation is offered during the season of Easter. If resurrection is about anything, it is about things turning out in ways we never expected. Easter is beyond comprehension, and so is the New Jerusalem. We should think of the New Jerusalem not as a place that we can go to when we die, but a place that comes to us. How so? As Brian Peterson phrases it, "We do not go to God, God comes to us." The Revelation to John was written to offer hope to a church under persecution, something we American Christians like to feign when someone disagrees with us, but, in reality, something that we do not experience. Salvation is found not in places, like cities, but wherever God is present. The New Jerusalem may not be a place, but, rather, an encounter with the living God through Christ.
I once spoke to a group of students who identified themselves as evangelical Christians. I asked them if they thought that salvation could have to do with this world. Only two persons out of 50 thought that salvation could relate to this life, and not just life after death. When I pressed them further and asked if Christ came for the whole world, they cautiously said yes. When I asked them if they agreed with the quote "The task of the Christian is not to save the world, but to tell the world that it has already been saved" I had a near riot on my hands. We like the idea of the new Jerusalem being a place, because that means that we can set up rules and keep some folks out of there. If the new Jerusalem has to do, instead, with the re-creation of humanity, we get uneasy, because it implies that we must do something now, rather than later, in the sky, after we die, to help bring it about. And so we wait, and read books and allow TV preachers to scare the wits out of us. It beats venturing out and meeting all kinds of people who have just one thing in common: they all belong to God, and will be residents in the new Jerusalem.

Lest We Turn Others into Sheep - John 10:22-30

Like many pastors before me, I have often used the occasion of this scripture passage appearing in the lectionary as an opportunity to once again remind people that it is not a great complement to be referred to as sheep. So, I am not going to take that tack this year. Instead, I want to look at the passage, and the whole idea of being God's sheep as a comforting thought, which is what I think the original intent of the image, and the passage was. The lectionary pairs Psalm 23 with the John passage, which is one of the better connections made by a device that sometimes mystifies me as from whence came the rationale to have selected some scripture passages that don't seem to have the slightest family relationship to other passage with which they have been paired.
Psalm 23 was the first scripture passage I ever memorized. I was asked to do so for a program at our church when I was a very young boy. It was a major production, as far as I was concerned, and, as I remember it, I got most of it right that night for the program. What touches me more about the passage in the context of that program is the memory of that church and its people. My home church was a place of great comfort to me as a child and adolescent. For that reason, the imagery of Psalm 23 always calls to mind that place and those people. The fact that the church was destroyed by fire when I was fourteen and the congregation split as a result of a rift over the decision not to rebuild the church makes the memory all that much sweeter, because the physical place is gone. Perhaps because of that wonderful nurturing faith community, I catch myself when I am tempted to turn others into sheep, not looking deeply to see their uniqueness or their joy or their hurt. Sheep tend to all look and behave alike to non-shepherds, and Psalm 23 is an assurance to us that God never views us as a herd, but as individuals, in need of loving care and pastoral respite. I can think of no greater comfort than to "lie down in green pastures" because God comforts us in whatever ways we need to be comforted, and such love and care make it difficult (or should make it difficult) for us to look past the needs of those all around us, dismissing them as a part of the herd.

The Most Misunderstood Holidays in the Christian Year

I write this on a gorgeous Good Friday morning. The campus is quiet, and even though we do not have an Easter break, this place will be rather empty in a few hours, as students retreat to spend time with their families. Later, I will lead a quiet prayer service. And then I will spend a quiet weekend with my family. I have always loved the spirit of Holy Week, and by the time I get to Easter Sunday, I do feel a sense of rejuvenation and hopefulness. However, the reason that I feel that way may differ from the reasons that many Christians would use to explain their sense of joy on Easter.
I cannot separate Good Friday from Easter, and have never been able to do that. For many, Good Friday is a downer and it is best to move on to Easter as quickly as possible. While serving my first parish, I was part of a ministerial association that sponsored an annual seven-part Good Friday service. The service was held in one church, so it did not move from church to church as some services do today. Each half-hour segment was a self-contained worship service, with hymns, prayers and homilies. I recall that one year I was the last preacher of the day, the last one to preach about the significance of the day we were living. Enter the preacher before me. He got up and chastised the congregation for being bummed on Good Friday. After all, Easter Sunday meant that Good Friday did not matter. It was "good" because the resurrection was coming. I don't recall what I said during my homily, but he made the task much more difficult, I'm sure.
I tend to look at the equation from the opposite direction: Easter makes no sense without Good Friday. In the crucifixion, God touched earth with compassion and empathy and a willingness to experience all that is common to men and women. The joy of Easter, for me, has to do with the fact that there is nothing that I must face in this life that God does not understand. Death is not the great destroyer, because God knows the pain of a loved one's death. I am a person of deep faith, but my father's death devastated me, and no amount of theologizing about it made the pain lessen in the least. But I did have this assurance from deep within that his death would not destroy me and that I did not have to bear it alone. When I die, my children will not have to bear the pain alone, either. The God of Good Friday and Easter will be there too, and they will come to understand the connection of the one day to the other.
So, may you experience a Good Friday of deep meaning and quiet assurance, and may Easter affirm for you, and for all, that resurrection has to do with the eternal presence and faithfulness of a God whose love we can never fully imagine.