Do You Trust Jesus?

“Do you trust me?”

It's THE question. It's the question Aladdin asks Jasmine as they are escaping the palace guards and before she climbs onto the magic carpet to experience a whole new world. It's the question Donna Pinciotti asks Eric Forman in the epic Dine and Dash episode on That's 70's Show. It's a version of the statement Han Solo says to Lando Calrissian as he rescues Lando from the Sarlaac pit in Return of the Jedi. It's the question every sixteen year old asks their parents when they want to borrow the car. It's the question Jesus is, in a way, asking Thomas and Phillip. It's the question Jesus asks us on a daily basis. “Do you trust me?”

Well, do you?

John 14 is part of a larger story that is taking place. Jesus is gathered in the upper room with his disciples. He just instituted the last supper and he begins to lay some heavy news on his disciples. He informs them that one of them will betray him. He tells them that where is going, they cannot go. He informs Peter that he will deny Jesus three times. After laying the heavy news on Peter, he continues, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust in me also. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a palace for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.”

Thomas says, “We do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” In other words, “Do you trust me, Thomas?”

I'm sure there was stunned silence when Jesus made this declaration. I'm sure the disciples have been in stunned silence when the night began. Philip makes a statement. It's a bold statement. Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father , and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, “Show us the Father?” Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; bu the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.” In other words, “Do you trust me, Philip?”

It's an amazingly difficult question to ask a group of friends after dispelling them with bad news. It's an amazingly difficult question to answer when your best friend, your mentor, your teacher, your Lord is about to die. Jesus puts Peter, Thomas, Philip, and the others in a tight spot. How can they answer him knowing what he just told them? How can they answer with any word but yes? Perhaps that is why Philip's statement is the last statement from a disciple until John 16:29. Perhaps that is why, when they do speak, they say, “Now we know that you know all things, and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God.” Perhaps that is why Jesus tells them, “In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!”

In other words, “Do you trust me?”

I can see why John 14 is used at funerals. It's a very comforting chapter. It's comforting when standing in the shadow of death to hear that Aunt Mildred has entered the room Jesus has prepared for her. It's comforting when confronted by the evilness of death to hear that Uncle Ben is in a better place because Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” John 14 is very comforting but the question Jesus asks, the question that lies underneath his claims, is not a very comforting question. “Do you trust me?” It's the amazingly difficult question presented in the midst of comforting words that leaves us with the inability to answer with any other word but yes. Plus, who among us wants to be the only one to answer no?

But do we really trust Jesus?

We're quick to say we do. We're quick to prove it by quoting a few scripture verses. We're quick to say a pray and say out loud, “I trust Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.” We do not have a problem saying, “Yes we trust Jesus.” But do we really trust Jesus when he says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life”? Do we really trust Jesus when he says, “Because you have seen me, you have seen God”? Do we really trust Jesus when he says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Put your trust in me and in God. I am going to prepare place for you and in my Father's house, there are many rooms and room for all”?

Do we really trust Jesus?

I believe if we were honest with one another, our answer would be no. It's difficult to trust Jesus when he says, “I am the gate; I am the good shepherd; I am the bread of life; I am the vine; I am the resurrection and the life; I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” It's difficult because we're afraid he cannot keep his word. We struggle to trust Jesus because our culture is full of reasons to not trust anyone's word. It is difficult to trust words that bring life when they bring pain as well. It is difficult to trust one who said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. And, by the way, you are going to persecuted and die because of me.” It is difficult for us to trust the Son of God when he says, “It is finished.”

Do we really trust Jesus?

Fear is a powerful thing. It can turn your heart black you can trust. It can take a God filled soul and fill it with devils and dust. Fear enters our hearts, our minds, our souls causing us to lose the strength to trust in words of one whom we have never met. Fear causes us to lose our faith in Christ and look for certainty. We fear that there is something in God, in Christ, other than love. Often we see God's love surrounded by limitations and conditions; since our own love for one another is built on conditions and limitations. We fear that what presents itself to us as the truest form of love will lead us to disappoint me so we look for moments of certainty. In our fear, we look for bible studies that are concerned about certain salvation instead of studies on trusting in God's unfailing love. We concern ourselves with talks of raptures, end times, heaven and hell, instead of talks about how to love God with all our heart, all our mind, all our soul, and with all our strength. We fear that it isn't true when Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” We fear that God isn't big enough to overcome our human limits. We fear death is stronger than God's love. We fear God did not accomplish everything God set out to do in Christ. And that is our greatest fear.

In our fear, we reject those who are hungry, those who are naked, those who are sick, those who imprisoned. In our fear we cling to the past. In our fear we demand proof from those who ask for help. In our fear, we only give ten percent. In our fear, we become blind to the one who says, “Because you have known me, you have known God.” In our fear, we become dispassionate. In our fear, we forget that Jesus is the way, and the truth, and the life. In our fear we continue to return to the voice of despair instead of the voice of love. Fear is a powerful thing.

Jesus lived his life with the trust that God's love is stronger than death and that death does not have the last word. We are called to live the same. We are called place our faith and trust in the one who says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. I am the resurrection. I am the good shepherd. I am the gate.” We are called to place our faith and trust in the one who commanded us to love one another as he loved us. We are not called to be a people of certainty but a people of faith. So, we return to the question that Jesus asks, “Do you trust me?”

I have found myself being forced to answer that question over the past few weeks, over the past few months. I have found myself being forced to answer that question in places I never expected. Last week, I encountered two situations in which I could hear Christ ask, “Do you trust me?” The first was in the form of a black man who walked six miles looking for food for his family. He wandered into the church office desperate for help. He came looking for something I knew we were supposed to provide. I became uncomfortable when, through his tears, he asked me if I could do anything. I walked him to the door, handed him some cash. Then he asked for something I did not expect. He asked for a ride to the store. I began to think of the reasons why I shouldn't but I could hear God's voice, “Do you trust me?” So, I drove a stranger to the store. But I failed when pressed to give up more of myself when he asked to have his prescriptions filled.

Do you trust me?

I was asked that question again last Sunday. Two hitchhikers on their way to West Virginia, found their way into our traditional service. They sat in the balcony and afterward, solemnly approached me asking for food and other supplies for their trip. In their voice I could hear the voice of Christ ask me, “Do you trust me?” In the presence of two strangers, I encountered the voice of the one who I had just preached. I took them over to the Lamb's basket drop box and we began to search. Fortunately, David Lynn was there and had more food to give them. As I left, these two strangers were gathering their things to begin a long trek to a new home. Yet, I could hear the voice of the one asking me again, “Do you trust me? There's more you could do.” I could feel the grip of fear on me. I could feel myself shrinking because I knew I had only trusted a little.

When we come to recognize that in and through Jesus we are called to be daughters and sons of God and listen to him with total trust and surrender, we will see that we are invited to be no less compassionate than Jesus himself. When we come to believe that in God nothing exists love and mercy, we will see Christ in our neighbors. When we come to trust and place are faith in the unending love and grace of Jesus Christ, we will live without fear and we will give up own lives because they do not belong to us. When we fully believe we are loved for who we are; when we fully believe God requires only us; when we fully believe that God is love, we will truly believe that in Jesus we have seen God because Jesus is love and Jesus is in the Father and the Father is in him.

So, we once again return to the question, “Do you really trust Jesus?” Only you can answer that; but know this, no matter your answer, God's love remains with you because we have seen Christ, we have seen God.

Our Prayer

You have the words of eternal life,

you are food and drink,

you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

You are the light that shines in the darkness,

the lamp on the lamp-stand,

the house on the hilltop.

You are the perfect Icon of God.

In and through you we can see the Heavenly Father,

and with you we can find our way to him.

Be our Lord, our Savior, our Redeemer,

our Guide, our Consular, our Comforter,

our hope, our Joy, and our Peace.

To you we want to give all that we are.

Let us give you all--

all we have, think, do, and feel.

It is yours, O Lord.

Please accept it and make it fully your own.

Amen. (Henri Nouwen)

The Voice of the Gatekeeper

http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=172575991

Every morning I walk through a smokey haze that builds up under the awning. Under the smoke, on and around the bench sit/stand a group of recovering addicts who in their smoke search for hope. Every morning I say hello and spend a brief moment checking in. When I say moment, I mean a moment, no longer than a minute. For the most part it is no more than a simple hello. Each morning, after the greeting, I walk up the ramp way, unlock the door, and go inside. Every morning my routine is the same.

One morning, the Wednesday before Easter, something strange happened. That morning my eyes saw something new. After a brief conversation with a young lady named Kim, I headed up the ramp way and out of the smoke filled air I heard a voice saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you." I looked back and my eyes became open to what was taking place. There on the bench sat a long hair, bearded man saying to each one, "I love you. I love you. I love you."

I began to tear up knowing that the voice that is speaking out of the smoke of our desperation, out of our pain, out of our selfishness, out of our ignorance is the voice of the one shepherd who is the good shepherd. The one who says, "I am the gate" "I am the good shepherd" "I am the living water" "I am the bread of life," speaks out of a cloud of nicotine to people who are clinging to whatever hope they have. The voice of the gatekeeper, of the shepherd is bringing life to those who feel they have none.

Unlocking the door, I turned back once more and the vision that came just seconds before remained: there sat Jesus saying, "I love you. I love you. I love you." I stepped inside knowing that Jesus would probably not come in that day.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I do not think, if Jesus was alive today, he would be with us this morning. It's not that I think he'd be completely absent from the church. I just do not think he would here. I do not think Jesus would choose to spend his time listening to someone, like me, preach about him or hear songs about himself. If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I think Jesus is out gathering his sheep. If I was being honest with you, I would tell you that I think Jesus is out being Jesus while we sit here and practice piety. I would tell you that, if I was being honest with you.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

Our scripture this morning takes place right Jesus heals a man born blind. You may recall this story. Jesus and his disciples are walking along and they pass a blind man. The disciples ask, “Who sinned, this man or his parents?” Jesus responds, “Neither. He is blind so that God's work might be revealed in him.” Jesus then spits on the ground and puts mud in the man's eyes, tells him to wash in the pool. The Blind Man does as he is told and receives his sight. The story doesn't end there, remember?

The man is brought before the Pharisees and questioned. Eventually, he is thrown out of the synagogue. Having heard this, Jesus seeks the man out and after revealing himself, the Pharisees near him say, “Surely, we are not blind. Are we?” Jesus responds, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see,” your sin remains.” Jesus then launches into his parable about a gate, gatekeepers, thieves, sheep, shepherds, destruction, and life.

Jesus doesn't speak in parables too often in John's gospel. At least, not parables we're accustomed to in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Those around Jesus look at him confusingly so Jesus kindly explains. He is the gate. He is the gatekeeper. He is the one who has come so that all may have life and have it abundantly. Not only is he the gatekeeper, he is the shepherd. He is the good shepherd who lays down his life freely for his sheep. They know his voice, he calls them by name, and he knows them. Jesus explains, he alone is the gate, the gatekeeper, the shepherd, the voice that brings life.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus' response to the Pharisees is an invitation. It's an invitation to freedom. Freedom from a restricting ideology that prohibits life. Freedom from an ideology that only brings about death and destruction. Freedom from an ideology focused to preserve the past by fearing the future and stealing breath from the present. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus is freeing them from what binds them. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that we, the church, have become the Pharisees. We've become the ones who are more about protecting the past, doctrines, and the way things were, than we are about providing life. If I were being honest with you, I would tell you that Jesus' declaration to be the gate and the good shepherd, frees us from that which binds us...ourselves. But that's if I was being honest.

From the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

The voice of the gatekeeper frees us from ourselves. The voice of the gatekeeper brings life; the voice gives life. We fear that we won't be good enough so we ignore the voice. We fear that we are unlovable so we create a list of rules to give ourselves a sense of security. Our actions say, “If I just follow these rules, I know Jesus will love me.” We fear that we're doing it wrong so we put our trust in things of this world, things we can grasp, things we think we understand, instead of placing our trust in the one; the one who is both the gate and the good shepherd. Nothing but ourselves bind us to the voices of destruction and despair.

Yet, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

A few weeks ago, I was talking with one my students about her relationship with God. In our conversation she expressed the desire to grow closer to God. She said, “I want to get close to God and trust that God loves me but I have to first love myself before I can fully love God. Right?” I laughed and holding a photo of Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son, I asked, “Are you familiar with the story of the prodigal son? There was a man who had two sons. The younger son came to him and demanded his inheritance. The father divided his property between them and the younger son left home. He spends the entire fortune on women, wine, and dissolute living. Broke, he begs for a job feeding pigs. One day he decides, “I will go back to my father, after all how many of his hired hands are treated better than this. I will leave here, go to him, ask to be forgiven and to be hired.” So, he leaves. While the younger son was still far off, the father saw him and was filled with compassion; the father runs to him throwing his arms around him and kisses him. The son begins his practiced speech but the father tells a slave, “Bring some clothes, put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Get the fatted calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate! For my son has returned.”

“The younger son, in no uncertain terms, wished his father dead when he demanded his inheritance. His motivation to return to his father is not out of a renewed love. He doesn't even really want to be a part of the family again. He simply wants to be hired. His motivation is about his own security. His own safety. He returns to simply survive. Here's the kicker, the father doesn't care. He doesn't even allow his son to finish his confession. He embraces him saying, “He's back home, and I am so glad to have him with me again.” I looked at her said, “All you have to know is that God loves you. Trust in that and one day, you will see the beauty that is within you. And you will love yourself because God loves you.”

It is true, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

Jesus says, “I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly.” We yearn to become fully alive. We long to respond the voice that says, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” We desire a life free of our own damning, self protective habits. Yet, there is a voice that tells us otherwise. A seductive voice that tells us we are unlovable. A voice that manipulates our insecurities and preys on our greatest fears. A voice that is of nothing more than despair. A voice that says, “I fail and fail. I sin over and over again. I'm worthless. It is better that I get out of people's way, be forgotten, no longer around, dead.”

Christ has come to open our ears to another voice that says:

"I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits. Do not run away from me. Come back to me--not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God--the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you any more, that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I so much want you to be close to me. I know all your thoughts. I hear all your words. I see all of your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but that will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close to your ear and say to you, 'I love you. I love you. I love you.'" ¹

There is a voice that cries to those of us who feel lost in the wilderness. A voice that cries out to us and says, "You are loved." It is a voice that knows our name. It is a voice that we know. A voice that cuts to our core. A voice that relieves our doubts, our fears. A voice that accepts. A voice that loves unconditionally. It is the voice of gatekeeper. It is the voice of Christ.

Very truly I say to you, from the shifting shadows of the earth, our eyes lift to Him, where steady arms of mercy reach to gather children in.

1Henri Nouwen, Show Me the Way, pg 76-77

The Best I Can Do

Gracious, loving, and almighty God,

I am not sure how to respond to the news of Osama bin Laden's death. I feel relieved knowing that the world's most dangerous terrorist is dead. I am relieved knowing that head of a terrorist organization is no longer in this world. I am relieved. Yet, I am disheartened and sad. I am sad at the words chosen by your people, your children. Words that do not bring about reconcilation and peace but words of destruction. I understand the mix of emotion of anger and justice. I understand the responses. But they sadden me. I simply do not know how to respond. Therefore, I simply will pray to you.

Lord, I thank you for this life. I thank you that I may praise you publically, that I may write what is on my mind, and that I may speak and live a life of freedom thanks to you alone.

Lord, I lift up those who are serving in the military across the world. I lift up those men and women, of all nations, who are seeking to put an end to terrorism. I lift up those who have to make the difficult choice to take a life. I pray for those who have had the unfortunate experience of doing so. I pray your love and guidance be with all. Love them as you love me.

Lord, I pray for those who have been affected by terrorist attacks all over this world. I pray that your love and peace find them, protect them and lift them up. I pray they find a peace of mind in a violent world. I pray for the childern left with a family. I pray for those whose lives have been destoryed by war, murder, and destruction. I hold them up to you. Love them as you love me.

I pray for the hurting victims of the violent storms that took place last week. I pray that in the midst of their suffering they find you. I pray they know you are there. I lift them up and ask that you give the rest of us the strength to help them as they recover. We live in a creation where violence extends beyond war and hate. We live in a creation where violence manifests itself in the forms of horrible weather and natural disasters. Be with those affected by your creation both here, in Japan, and around your world. Love them as you love me.

Lord, I seek forgiveness where I and others who call your name have failed you. In anger, in fear, in relief we spew words that contradict your own words. We forget that you became one of us, you know our suffering, and we know that you do not take joy in the suffering of anyone. We know our justice is not your justice. I pray that you forgive us for when we do not lift high the risen Christ. Forgive us of our trespasses. Forgive us of our debts. Forgive us for when we have stumbled. Forgive us when we do not speak up for the oppressed. Forgive us for when we remain silent. Forgive us when we forget, “As surely as I live, says the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of wicked people. I only want them to turn from their wicked ways so they can live.” (Ezekiel 33:11) " "Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing." 1 Peter 3:9. I humbly come before you and seek forgiveness. Love us as you have loved others.

Grant us the strength to truly remember and live your words, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Give us the strength to change this world. Give us the strength to live out your life before others. Give us the strength to stand, to kneel, to serve. Guide us as we live. Love us as you have loved others. Lord, I do not fully know how to respond. So I am simply praying to you. Love me as you love others. Give me the courage to love others as you love me; knowing that is the best I can do.

Amen.