And a Child will Lead Them

This weekend I am going to be speaking to about 45 students ranging from 13-18. The theme of the weekend is Unlikely Heroes and the focus is finding our call to be "heroes" in the kingdom of heaven. I was sitting here working on the sessions when a thought occurred to me. I am going to tell these teenagers that they have the ability to do wonderful things for the kingdom of heaven. I am going to tell them God has placed a call on their hearts and they could be heroes.

I am going to tell these students, they have the ability to find their calling and live out a life being the person God is creating them to be. Yet, many of these teenagers will not be offered any leadership role outside their expected social role as a member of the youth group. I am going to tell these youth that they are the leaders of today; yet they are most likely not going to find a leadership role on a church committee or on the deacon board because they are not encouraged to find one.

I'm wrestling with that truth right now.

How can we claim them to be leaders if we do not entrust them with serious leadership roles within the church? How can we expect teenagers to be a part of the church if we only encourage them to lead within their respective social church groups? How can we expect youth to claim ownership of our visions and stories if we do not allow room for their leadership abilities in our heavy leadership roles?

How many of your church's youth sit on committees that are not youth related? How many of your youth are nominated every year to be ordained as a deacon or as a church elder? How many of your youth sit on search committees, vision committees, or community ministry groups?

Why not?

Because they are too young?

Not quite mature enough?

Are we adults really that much more mature? Were the disciples really that much more mature?

Are we not told to not look down upon someone because of their youth?

A couple of years ago, I proposed to the deacon chair that they open the deacon nominations to our youth. I had several who were wanting to have an invested role in the church and wanted to be a part of the deacon board. The chairperson came back to me and said, "We talked it over, it's never been done, so we decided they could be junior deacons. If they'd like to." I declined.

Normally, I work to find a solution that is win/win for both parties but this was not a win/win. It was their way of saying, "You can be a part of the group but you can't be a part of the group." Either they were fully ordained deacons or they were not. Either they were treated in the exact same manner as an adult who was nominated or they were not. They were not going to be JV deacons. I believe in allowing space for our youth to be leaders, to have real leadership roles in our churches.

I have books that are on my shelves and on my desk telling me how to get youth involved but not one of them suggests giving them a real leadership role within the church. Not one suggests having teenagers and adults work side by side on Sunday school committees, or Community Ministry teams. Not one dares to challenge the church to chose seven faithfully mature teenagers and lay their hands on them and ordain them.

Not one.

So the message we give to our youth is this: We want you to come to church. We want you to sit quietly in our pews. We want you to have fun in youth group. However, you're here to be seen not heard or lead."

We can form all the task forces we want and explore the reasons why youth today rarely commit to the church life; but I again ask, "How can expect teenagers to darken the doors if we do not expect or allow them to lead from the same positions we entrust to adults?"

Why not open our leadership roles to youth who want them?

What are we afraid of? Are we afraid that these teenagers would lead better than we do?

Are we afraid that our churches will suddenly find themselves filled with excited teenagers who make us anxious? Are we afraid that our churches will have a new sense of youth and vigor and excitement?

What are we afraid of?

We have nothing to lose by opening our leadership roles to our youth and children.

Nothing.

We do have everything to gain.

Everything.

"At Dawn Look to the East"

I am becoming an optimist of the future, at least for the moment. 

It's hard to think of being one in the wake of the violence in Boston and the violence that engulfs our world every day. And after the factory explosion in West, Texas, we are justified to become more pessimistic or apathetic toward the future. We would be justified in removing our kids from school and keeping them home so that they may be safe. But we know that the home does not provide any more safety than the local playground. We know when we step outside and participate in this world, we are going to encounter dangers and horrible deeds; but we are going to encounter good deeds as well.

We may be bombarded by the images of explosions, crying, and terror; but in the midst of that terror are people who are working to right it. These events do not just happen here in our land of freedom but every day in countries where fear is an ominous cloud looming; yet there are people who are out there right now, striving to make a wrong world right. Every day, untold stories are happening. Every day someone is trying desperately to help usher in the kingdom of heaven. Every day, if we just looked hard, we might see the rainbow hiding behind the clouds.

There are moments though when we are simply unable to see any good in the world or in anyone. There are moments when there is nothing but broken rainbows and dreams. There are moments when words will not do and all we can afford is a tear or two. There are moments when we simply want to wash our hands of this and go sit on a hilltop awaiting the return of the Lord. Those are the moments when we see light and dark wrestle for dominance. Those are the moments when light has all but been extinguished and it is has hard to see the good; but there is still good in those dark moments. Even if our tears are all we have, we still have our tears. There is light in such a thing. There is still good if our tears are all that remain.

In a vision of sight beyond sight, John writes of seeing a parade of people from every nation, every tribe, every people, every language, and they are standing before the throne of God and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands, crying out in one loud voice: "Salvation belongs to the our God who is seated on the throne, and to the lamb."

Whether this cry is a cry of rejoicing, happiness, or sorrow and pain, we are not fully told. John continues saying that an elder places his arm around asking, "Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?"

"Sir," he replies, "You are the one that knows."

"These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and been made white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne. They will worship day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." (Revelation 7:9-17 Loose Translation)

I find strange comfort in this vision. I find comfort in the healing of the promise of the one who will be our God and we God's people. In the vision a strange sense of hope overcomes me in this hopeless time and my optimism is renewed because I truly know that if I, if we want to sit in the awe of the kingdom of heaven then we must wade through the hell of this earth. I, we cannot look upon the throne and find comfort if I, we do not look in this earth and seek to give comfort. This vision is empty and vain without the souls of those who were torn apart under the empire of Rome. John's vision is empty without the souls whose tears water the ground beneath our feet. This vision holds no meaning without the 8 year old cheering on his father. This vision holds no meaning without the firefighters and volunteers searching through the rubble. This vision holds no meaning without the memory of the young and innocent.

This vision holds no meaning if we are not connected through both the beauty and ugliness of our world. We are not blessed because we mourn, or are poor, or meek; but because ours is the kingdom of heaven; because we comforted; because we will inherit the earth. The persecuted are not blessed because of persecution but because theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I am reminded of a story, one that I am certain that I have shared before, but it fits so allow me a repeat:

There once was prominent preacher speaking at a local church one evening. After his well crafted sermon, the church gathered up at the front of the sanctuary for a discussion and he asked if anyone would like him to recite their favorite scripture passage. Someone stood up and said, “I would like to hear the 23^rd Psalm. If you'd please.” The preacher happily obliged and he began eloquently, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me. You prepare a table before me. In the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.”

After he finished the congregation applauded such a reciting. The eloquence of the words came through so beautifully, and they are were all impressed. An old man stood up asking, “Preacher, that was a fine reading. May I give it a try.” The preacher obliged and the old man began, “The LORD is MY shepherd, I shall not want. HE makes ME lie down in green pastures; HE leads ME beside still waters; HE restores MY soul. HE leads ME in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for YOU are with ME; YOUR rod and YOUR staff—they comfort ME. YOU prepare a table before ME. In the presence of MY enemies; YOU anoint MY head with oil; MY cup overflows. Surely YOUR goodness and mercy shall follow ME all the days of ME life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD MY whole life long.”

After the finishing the old man with tears in his eyes took his seat. The congregation sat in stun silence, many with tears of their own. Finally, after a few minutes, the preacher stood up and said, “I know the 23^rd Psalm. This man knows the shepherd.”

We, the church, know the shepherd. Those who have gone through the great ordeals of life know the shepherd. We know what it means to blessed as we mourn because we are being comforted. We, who know what it means to suffer, are blessed because ours is the kingdom of heaven. We know the shepherd.

Again, these stories remind me of another. In All Star Superman, Superman has essentially died and has a vision of his father who guides him back to life, "You have given them an ideal to aspire to, embodied their highest aspirations. They will race, and stumble, and fall and crawl, and curse, and finally they will join you in the sun. In time you will no longer be alone. For Krypton, it was always too late. But the rest of us, the gold in us, will survive in you. All that is impure will be burn to ash. And all that is strong and great and true will survive and be reborn” (All Star Superman issue 12)

We, the church, have been given an ideal, an image to aspire to. This image embodied our highest aspiration, our highest meaning, and we have raced after it. We have run this race, striving to be like the forerunner, to be like Christ (as the writer of Hebrews urges us to do, “And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”), and yes we have fallen. Yes, we have stumbled. Yes, we have crawled. And yes, oh yes, we have cursed. In those dark moments, we have cursed and felt alone. But as the dust begins to clear, we have our found ourselves with Christ, standing in the sun.

The vision of Revelation reminds us in the dark moments of factory explosions, wildfires, and the destruction of school shootings, movie theater massacres, bombings, terrorist attacks, national and local tragedies, the random of acts of violence, if we look to the east we will find ourselves standing with Christ in the sun.

The vision of Revelation reminds us in the dark moments that go unpublicized; the dark moment of the soul, the dark moments of cancer, Parkinson, Alzheimer, depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, Dementia, suicide, imprisonment, sexual and physical abuse, loneliness, anger, and even death, if we look to the east we will find ourselves standing with Christ in the sun.

The vision of Revelation reminds us in those dark moments of this life, when hope is absent and fear, anger, and hate are all around, to reach out to our neighbor, take them by the hand, and look to the east. To look to the east for the sun will soon rise. Let the words of elder speak to us and remind us to look to the east for soon we will find ourselves in the green pastures and beside the still waters of the springs of life, and there we will be standing in the sun with Christ.

Come, Lord Jesus, come and let it be so. Amen and amen.

The Thin Line Between

At the request of a church member, I made a visit to the Saluda Jail today. I've never been to a jail before. I've seen them. I've driven past the Huntsville State Pen several times but I've never seen the inside. Today, I saw the inside and I could feel the isolation the second I stepped through the secured doors.

I sat a table in the library for almost two hours with an inmate who was enduring the fear of being locked away for the rest of his life if justice was not served. As he walked in and I introduced myself, I could feel his fear and his anguish as he immediately burst into tears. I sat and listened to his story and did my best to offer words of comfort to him as he cried, as he wrestled with how he got where he was.

There is a reality behind those bars that I was never fully aware of, the reality of isolation and the reality that reconciliation, redemption, and forgiveness are either absent or isolated as well. Innocent or guilty, severity of the crime, killer or dealer, tax evader or thief, behind those bars you are the same. Behind the bars you are no longer Shane or Elizabeth, you are a number. Behind those bars you are stripped of everything you were on the outside and you are isolated from your friends, family, anyone and everyone. I am not going to make excuses for why people are there but the sense of hopelessness that I felt in that place gives me great worry about those who are eventually freed.

How do you become yourself again after you've stripped of you?

As I listened to his story and situation, a truth was reaffirmed: it is a very thin line between everything going extremely well and everything going to hell. In the midst of all the gun control talk I have constantly heard: "We need to keep guns out of the hands of criminals. We need to carry to protect ourselves from criminals." The universal truth is that no one is a criminal until they are proven to have committed a crime. Or in our day the truth has become: no one is a criminal until they are accused of a crime.

We say "so and so" cannot or would not commit a crime because they were raised right. In the midst of listening, I kept hearing, "My parents raised me right. I've never done anything wrong. Why is this happening?" It does indeed rain on the just and the unjust alike and no matter our upbringing, we are all one misstep away from being labeled a criminal. The line is so thin that it does not take much but a small accusation or a small rumor or a moment of unreasonable anger. That is the most real universal truth of our life.

Because of this truth, you would think compassion is spilling from our church walls. Instead we have churches and ministers lacking the very compassion that they claim. We cannot expect to change the world if our compassion for the brokenhearted, downtrodden, or imprisoned is less than it is for a stray animal. If we do not have compassion for our neighbors then how can we have love? How can expect to be a part of the kingdom of heaven if we are not compassionate towards those we have labeled as unworthy? How can we claim amazing love while denying to extend that love to everyone is imprisoned both literally and metaphorically?

How do we expect to re-clothe those who have been stripped of who they were without compassion?

It is such a thin line.

The reality of our day is seen in the very real breaking news. One minute we are watching cartoons and the next we are tearing up as people flee from explosions. In a sitting we are talking about tax returns and the complicated tax code and in the very next we are wondering how a tragedy could take an 8 year old from this world.

You and I are separated by a very thin line. If I do not have compassion for you, how can I have love for my family? If I do not have compassion for my enemy, how can I have love for my friend? If I do not ache at the sight of an 18 year old in chains, how can I enjoy the playfulness of a 3 year old? I do not have compassion for the imprisoned, how can I have compassion for the sick?

A thin line separates
Unseen until crossed
We discover the meaning of loneliness
When compassion is lost

A thin line separates
Healing or remaining
In anger or in hate
Love is abandoned when compassion is ignored

A thin line is between
Where you are and where I could be
Or where you could be and where I am
In my chair or on the sidewalk

A thin line is all there is
Separating joy and sorrow
Perhaps we'll come to see
In each person's face a reflection of our own

A thin line is indeed all there is
Between remaining stripped
And being re-clothed
In the image we see in the other

And I Said How About Breakfast with Jesus

I would like to begin with a couple of jokes, some that you have might already have heard. The first goes like this:

Two brothers are terrible trouble makers. They are always breaking things, stealing things, lying, and making all kinds of general trouble. The parents have tried everything to get the boys to change, to no avail. Finally, out of options, they ask their pastor if he can help. He says he will talk to the boys, but only one at a time. The parents drop off the youngest and go home, promising to return to get him soon. The boy sits in a chair across from the pastor's desk and they just look at each other.

Finally, the Pastor says, "Where is God?" The boy just sits there and doesn't answer. The pastor begins to look stern and loudly says, "Where is God?" The little boy shifts in his seat, but still doesn't answer.

The pastor is starting to get angry at the boy's refusal to converse and practically shouts "Where is God?" To the pastor's surprise, the little boy jumps up out of his chair and runs out of the office.

The boy leaves the church and runs all the way home, up the stairs and into his brother's room. He shuts the door and pants, "We're in BIG TROUBLE. God's missing and they think we did it!"

The second is like this:

A pastor was making a visit at the request of a family who had recently visited his church. He took a seat in a chair by the fireplace and began to talk with the mother and father. During the course of the conversation, the couple's 6 year old son kept coming into the living room in desperate search for something. Finally the father asked, “Son, what are you doing?” “I'm looking for Jesus.” the son answered. The pastor, being an astute individual, offered this pearl of wisdom, “Well, I think Jesus is right where you looking. All we have to do is open our eyes and see.”

The boy looked quizzically at the pastor as the father begin, “Sorry, Pastor but...” “No, dad,” the boy interrupted as he dropped to the carpet. Rising back up with a cat in his arms he said, “He was right. I found Jesus! He was under the couch!”

Silly stories, I know.

In today's scripture reading, we experience a silly story of sorts. The disciples are out at the Sea of Tiberias, collecting themselves when Peter decides to do what most men do when they don't want to talk, he decides to go fish. Nothing spectacular but the others decide fishing beats sitting around on the beach, so they go with him. They spend the entire day and night out on the boat fishing, and like most fishing trips, they catch nothing. At daybreak, a voice from the shore shouts, “Have you caught anything?” Without hesitation, they respond, “No, nothing!” The man on the shore yells back, “Cast your net on the right side of the boat!”

The disciples do not question the man. They simply cast their nets and within seconds their nets literally runeth over. John immediately says, “It's the Lord!” and Peter, in Peter like fashion, dives into the water and swims to shore while the disciples row like crazy to get catch up. Nothing mattered in that moment but being with Jesus and all it took to see Jesus was to go and do nothing.

In this resurrection journey, we often get caught in the results of the journey. We focus on the outcome as proof of God's involvement instead of looking at the experience of the journey. The church gets trapped in this “business model” in which it's purpose is solely about numbers, figures, attendance, conversions, baptisms, and building projects. Each of these measurable outcomes invoke an attitude of superiority above others. It invokes this notion that a church is blessed by God by the number of people who come instead of who comes. It invokes this notion that the church is blessed by how much they've spent on their building project instead of who are giving and what are they building for. It invokes the notion that the church is blessed by the number of baptisms instead of the who are being being baptized. The church judges itself on the visible, tangible results of our activities instead of judging itself on the love they have for their Lord and their neighbor. In the hustle of this visible result attitude that is infesting the modern church, we forget to stop and ask, “Where's Jesus?”

I am reminded of a story I once read. Mike Yaconelli, in an article on “Where's Jesus,” tells of a time when he was forced to ask that very question:

“I was recently hit with that very question (Where's Jesus?) during a meeting with a well-known evangelist. After an hour and a half of his very organized presentation on a new, nationwide program for spreading the gospel, he stopped and asked some of us to respond.

I started to speak, but the words caught in my throat. My tears ambushed me, and I was unable to respond. Taken by surprise, I wondered what my tears were all about. Instantly I saw the following mental picture: A man was leaning against the wall a few feet from us. He seemed lonely and sad, like a wallflower at a dance. One look at his eyes, and I could tell he desperately wanted us to notice him, to pay attention to him, to talk to him—but we just went on with our business and ignored him.

That man was Jesus, of course. There he stood in the midst of our long conversation about strategies, programs, and target markets, and we didn’t even notice the very reason why we have these meetings in the first place! I believe that in much of modern youth ministry (ministry in general), the question "Where’s Jesus?" has been replaced with “Who needs Jesus?””¹

Jesus didn't care about the amount of fish the disciples caught. He cared about them. He simply wanted to have breakfast with his friends. He wanted to be with them and wanted them to be with him. They didn't need a classical church setting with hymns. They didn't need a rock concert or evangelism conferences or church leadership conferences. They didn't need a young hip preacher with orange hair or Billy Graham in his suit. All they needed was a boat, a net, and go fishing to see Jesus.

Jesus is dangerous. If he was dangerous to the religious leaders before he was crucified, he is even more dangerous to us today now that he has risen. When Jesus shows up, plans go out the window, visions get altered, and we become radically different. I think that's why we rarely ask, “Where's Jesus?” I think we're terrified of the wounds of the resurrection journey. I think we're terrified to place our fingers where the nails were. I think we're terrified to place our hand inside where the spear struck. I think we're terrified because we will fall to our knees crying, “My Lord!” We are terrified that if we look to the shore and if we cast our nets, our boat will sink. We are terrified that Jesus may actually just love us for who we are and that doing nothing is all it takes to see Jesus.

We have become convinced that what Jesus wants in the church is a group of people are in constant motion, busy bodies building anthills. I believe, even in our mission mindfulness, we are so concerned with being Jesus that our churches are constantly drowning out Jesus' voice, “Come and have breakfast.” Maybe what Jesus really desires in our churches are followers who say, “Sorry, I don't have time to read your article. Sorry, I don't have time to hear about your guaranteed program. I'm busy taking some folks fishing and having breakfast with Jesus.”

Maybe what Jesus wants the most out of us and our churches is nothing. Maybe what Jesus wants and what the church needs are churches that would prefer to go fishing than to go knocking on doors. Maybe what Jesus wants are churches that are willing to have breakfast with him instead of doing things for him. Maybe what Jesus wants is for us to slow down, sit by the fire, and be with him. Maybe we over-think this church thing. Maybe all we need is boat, a net, and breakfast with Jesus. Maybe that's all it takes to really change the world.

He's on the shore with a fire and breakfast is waiting. Just waiting.

1Yaconelli, Mike. “Where's Jesus?” http://www.youthspecialties.com/articles/wheres-jesus/

The Peace of the Resurrection Journey

“When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” John 21:19-31

The evening of Resurrection Sunday, Jesus appears to his disciples. They are gathered in a room, locked away and hidden from the world. They are probably scared, nervous, and confused. They are in fear of what will happen to them. If they crucified Jesus, the cross is a real possible outcome for them as well. So they have locked themselves in and stay hidden.

Perhaps they are still in mourning. They shouldn't be though. They should be rejoicing, if they believed what Mary had told them earlier in the day. Perhaps they are feeling a little bewildered by all that has taken place. Whatever the case may be, they are hidden behind locked doors when they receive an unexpected visitor.

Suddenly, Jesus appears standing before them saying, “Peace be with you.” It is not a peaceful, easy feeling peace, but a calming peace given in a terrifying resurrection moment. He grants them his peace as he sends them out and lays the Holy Spirit upon them. He shows them his wounds and they believe; but all are not there.

Thomas is not there. He is out, apparently the only brave one, and what he is out doing we are not told. We are just told that he was not among them. When Thomas arrives back, the disciples tell him what they had just experienced and he does not believe them. He refuses to believe they have seen the risen Lord because he too wishes to touch him and experience the resurrection himself. The other 10 disciples do not demand Jesus to show his wounds; he does this voluntarily. He gives them proof of life, if you will, without being asked. The disciples rejoice because they have seen and experienced the risen Lord. Is it wrong then for Thomas to demand to experience the same?

Thomas' demand of the disciples, maybe even of Jesus, is a demand that does not go ignored. Singled out because he was not there the first time, Jesus shows Thomas his wounds. He urges Thomas to place a finger where the nails were. Jesus urges Thomas to reach out his hand and place inside the wound where the spear struck. Thomas is invited in, being given the peace of Christ, to embrace the wounds of the resurrection journey. For Thomas and the disciples, reaching out and touching Jesus is a risky move and it is one that is necessary for their faith development, their growth. Jesus invites them to become active participants in the resurrection and by doing so they are required to take the risk of touching him. They are asked to embrace the wounds of resurrection because they will need the peace of Christ within as they go out into the world. The Spirit that is laid upon them is the Spirit that will strengthen them in those terrifying resurrection moments. It steel them as they are stretched, boiled, beheaded, exiled, and abandoned.

Thomas is encouraged to touch Jesus, to experience the resurrection in the most real sense. Thomas is not denied his encounter with Christ. He is not denied receiving of the Spirit. The faith of Thomas, the faith we see in John 11 when he is the only one to voice, “Let us go so that we may die with him.” is perhaps a reflection of our own faith as participants in the resurrection. His faith and likewise the faith of the disciples and Mary, call upon us to be demanding in our faith. Their faith and the blessing of Jesus, call upon us to be active participants in the resurrection life as they are. It is for us, as it was for them, a moment in which we deepen in our faith.

After Thomas touches Jesus and rejoices in his discovery, Jesus says, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” It is here we find the words of Jesus, the words of the writer of the gospel, blessing those who have come after the resurrection. Our faith is blessed because we have believe not because we have seen but because we have heard. We are blessed because we demanded to hear the resurrection story and thus our faith is one based not on what is seen but what is unseen. We hold to our faith because we are told we are blessed for not having seen the risen Lord. We are blessed because we have not touched the resurrection wounds and still have believed. It is in the unseen that we need to hear Jesus say once again, “Peace be with you.”

We have created a Christian culture in which faith must be proven and dictated. We try to rewrite history so our perception is taught and enforced. We no longer allow our children to be like Thomas and demand to see Jesus for themselves; instead we are yelling at the top of our lungs: “Believe like I did!” We have allowed the church to fall victim to this false theology that through power faith is proven. We forget that in a small crowded apartment, Jesus chose to appear not to a Governor or the Chief Priests but to his friends. We forget that “blessed are those who believe but have not seen” is a blessing like those who mourn. They are not blessed because they mourn but because they will comforted. We are not blessed because we believe. We are blessed because we believe without seeing. We struggle to make room for Christ to appear and say, “Peace be with you.” yet we need him more and more to appear and say, “Peace be with you.”

Our faith journey is one that requires the risk in which the peace of Christ is needed. When we seek to move up the ladder we risk slipping. Each time we seek to grow deeper in our faith we run into moments when there are more questions, less answers, less guarantees and the peace of Christ reminds of this resurrection story. It does not give us a peaceful easy feeling but it brings us closer to Christ and therefore our faith is renewed. The peace of Christ renews our spirits and we are lifted up on the wings of eagles, making it possible to continue each step of this resurrection faith journey. The wounds of Christ remind us that the resurrection journey is not without the valley of the crosses. It is in those wounds though we find the peace of Christ within.

When we look upon the wounds of the resurrection journey, hearing the words, “Peace be with you”, we not only find the strength to continue deepening our faith but we find compassion for our fellow travelers. We do not look upon their scars with judging hearts that say, “You know if they really believed...” instead we look upon their scares with loving hearts that say, “Peace be with you. Place your hands in my scars.” The wounds of the resurrection journey and the peace of Christ reminds us of the need for room in our churches when allow honest questions and allow room for the honest answers.

The blessing of believing remains the unseeing, and the wounds of the resurrection are fill our hearts with the peace of Christ; making it possible to continue this journey together. We find the peace of Christ to steel us as we ask our questions. We find the peace of Christ to steel us as we demand God to show up. We find the peace of Christ to steel us as we seek justice in an unjust world. We find the peace of Christ to steel us when God does show up and we are treated, as Job was, to a parade of creation. We find the peace of Christ steel us when we are at that inevitable faith crossroads to either leave the faith altogether or find strength to keep believing. Such peace gives us the courage to keep such faith because we are blessed because we have not seen yet believe. Such peace is a beautiful thing.