In Which I Commit All Manner of Biblical Heresies

Dear readers, while I almost never actively try to solicit comments from y’all, this is one of these rare exceptions. After my past few Bible study sessions with my congregation, I’ve had these questions rolling around in the old noggin and can’t seem to shake them. Let me know if you think I’m on- or off-base here. –E.A.

(Also an aside, this post was inspired by a recent re-read of Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan’s excellent book “The Last Week,” which is a detailed, day-by-day exegesis of the Passion story as told in Mark’s Gospel, as well as by Rachel Held Evans’ memoir “Growing Up in Monkey Town.” All Scripture quotations are from the Common English Bible.)

I’ve touched on aspects of God’s grace (and my relationship with it) in previous entries, but I haven’t actually written much about sacrifice as a component of that grace (even though I preached on sacrifice as a theological concept just a few weeks ago), whether in terms of the sacrifice of Christ himself as a means of grace, or our sacrifices in our good works as a means of demonstrating our justification as a result of that grace-through-Christ’s-atonement.

In a sentence, this is what I've been thinking: that Jesus had to die because He had a human dimension to Him (and we all must die), but He did not have to be executed. If He had to be executed, that makes His sacrifice less than ultimate because it means the Crucifixion was inevitable, which gives us an out—there was nothing we could have done to prevent the Crucifixion, which mitigates the egregiousness of us putting the Messiah to death. And because Christ did not have to die, that means we have inherent worth to God outside of the cross despite our sinfulness—that is, even if the Passion had never happened, we would still have worth and value to God.

Borg and Crossan tackle the first question in their Good Friday exegesis, framing the issue as one of divine necessity or of human inevitability—essentially, did the Crucifixion have to happen because it was the will of God, or did it have to happen because we are sinful?

Borg and Crossan take the latter perspective, and while I don’t agree with everything they say in this book (they are much more interested in the historical Jesus, while I think the theological Jesus is equally important), I do happen to agree with them on this one, though not entirely for the reasons they state. Their exegesis centers around what happens to prophetic teachers when they challenge the sinful status quo, as they refer to the executions of John the Baptist, Peter, Paul, and James as well as Jesus Christ as preachers and teachers who were executed for challenging the sins of the status quo in world they inhabited.

But Borg and Crossan gloss over what I think is the crucial aspect of the sacrifice of Good Friday when they write, “Did it have to happen? It might have turned out differently.” That single reality makes all the difference in the world to me—that it did not have to be this way (apologies to Tim Rice’s Jesus that sings, in Jesus Christ Superstar, “everything is fixed, and you can’t change it.” That lyric simply isn’t from the Bible).

Did Jesus have to die because it was God’s plan for Him to die? Yes, because He was made human—“The Word became flesh and made his home among us” (John 1:14). So, yes, Jesus did eventually have to die. But was it God’s will that Jesus die by execution? I’m not so sure. I realize that Jesus prays, “Not what I want, but what you want” to God at Gethsemane (Mark 14:36), but I still struggle with the notion that a God of love, a Father (as Jesus calls him, Abba, or ‘Dad’) would “want” his Son to be executed. It implies something about God that, if I’m completely honest with myself, I’m not quite willing to accept.

So too does the theology of St. Anselm that Crossan and Borg are critiquing in their book.  St. Anselm's argument revolves around the idea that God demands a price or a debt before He will recognize our inherent worth and have a relationship with us. But for me, it makes God seem petty and arbitrary rather than gracious and forgiving.

Instead, assume for the moment that it is God’s will that Jesus live. By going against God’s will, we create the most extreme necessity for God’s grace (certainly more so than Adam and Eve eating a durned apple would have created). We give the cross even MORE meaning when we admit to ourselves that Christ’s execution could have been prevented by us, and that we disobeyed God’s will by putting Jesus to death.

To be sure—this is not me arguing that we are utterly without worth in the eyes of God because of our sinfulness. Rachel Held Evans calls this “pond scum theology” (ie, that we are no better than pond scum to God), and about it, she says, “To believe that people are inherently worthless to God strips the incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection of all their meaning and power. It makes Jesus look like a fool for dying for us.”

The ONLY way that I can come up with to explain how our sinfulness gives, rather than strips, the Passion its meaning and power is to say that we went against God’s wishes by executing Jesus, and that God loves us and sees our inherent worth anyways.

Which means that it was not God’s will for Jesus to die on the cross. If anything, this underlines the sacrificial nature of the Crucifixion even more—that God, in all His glory and power, subordinated His divine power to our earthly power. It was not merely that Jesus made Himself “obedient to the point of death” (Philippians 2:8), it is that God did as well by standing there, watching us kill His Son. I cannot imagine that God would have allowed Himself to witness this if He didn’t believe in our worth and in His own capacity to redeem us.

And here’s the kicker—we KNOW from Scripture that we do have worth in the eyes of God. God created humanity “in God’s own image” (Genesis 1:26). Jesus came “so that (we) could have life” (John 10:10). God’s love, in Christ, for us is “beyond knowledge” (Ephesians 3:19). And, of course, there's the big one—God so loved the world, He gave His only Son (John 3:16). I could go on and on, but hopefully you see my point. We did not need Christ’s death to give us worth before God. We did, and do, need Christ’s death and resurrection as a source of redemption and forgiveness for the sins we have committed and created. But our worth before God was already there, long before Christ ascended to Calvary.

Sola gratia…by grace alone.

By grace alone, indeed.

Yours in Christ,
Eric

ReMainline

After sunset, when the lights go on in my apartment complex, I can look from my kitchen table out the window and see all of the lights come on—in the building across the way, around the outdoor pool, on the outdoor staircases leading to the other apartments. Intentionally or not, these lights all look a little different against the dark backdrop of night. Some glow more softly, others have more of a tint to them. They burn brightly regardless.

In our Tuesday Bible study, we have been spending the last few weeks reading through the first letter of John. Like the Gospel itself, 1 John speaks extensively of light, of its power against the darkness, of its power to lead us on the path to God.

To me, the light represents, among many other things, the church. But I’m pretty sure at this point that of all the churches out there, even in all of their wisdom and virtue and grace, few if any burn the way we have been called to, whether because we worry that we are too small and feeble to minister in the ways we want, or because we sometimes abuse the sheer scope and scale of the power inherent in caring for a person’s soul.

So we see another church, another light, doing it differently, doing things in a way we do not like. And we create a new church—a new light, a light that looks a little different from any of the other lights currently burning in the darkness. This is where I think my spiritual lineage still lingers, with the venerable mainline Protestant churches beginning to flicker rather than illuminate when compared to the newer, brighter lights of megachurches.

It’s funny, in a sad clown sort of way. Like, there’s no way on earth I’d join the frequent flier programs of American Airlines or United or Delta or US Airways. I fly Southwest or Alaska whenever I can. But when it comes to brand loyalty to churches, I’m still firmly a legacy flier.

But that doesn’t keep me from wanting my legacy denomination to create out of itself, to paraphrase Revelation, a new thing.

As Paul wrote, when I was a child, I spoke like a child and I thought like a child. But then I became an adult, and I gave up my childish ways.

The Disciples have gone from one stage of life to another, but I realize we still have a rap for not giving up our previous ways of doing church that don’t quite translate to our current context.

Maybe that reality should test my loyalty.

But it doesn’t.

It has, though, made me realize that I am tired of identifying as a “mainline” Christian. Not because of the stigmas of old, or irrelevant, or enfeebled that still often come with that identity. But because the label of “mainline” Christian is incomplete. I’d just as soon be identified by the new life that I see happening in my mainline congregation than by the shallow perception of dying, of light fading into the darkness, that is associated with my mainline Christian tradition. I’d like to feel connected to the newness of church, not just the tradition.

Thing is, I don’t think I quite fit in with any of the other new movements that are happening in American Christianity right now. There’s definite overlap, sure, but it’s like a Venn Diagram—always some unique territory. I’m not entirely emergent, or post-denominational, or post-evangelical, but I am realizing that I am part of something new…

I see new visitors in the pews every week, and I believe that renewal is at hand.

I hear stories around the table of fellowship about the new missions we are supporting, and I witness resurrection at work.

I listen to the music of a praise team that has re-arranged its lineup and repertoire to include the folk influence of a banjo and a tambourine along with our more typical worship instruments of guitar and bass and keyboards, and I hear the promise of rebirth.

And it’s the Easter season—for Pete’s sake, I’ve just spent five weeks preaching about all of these “re-“ things: renewal and resurrection and rebirth.

Look—I know it’s schlocky, maybe cheesy, and more than a little presumptuous, but please indulge me in a moment of rebranding fantasy. It isn’t enough to simply say that I am a mainline Christian. I have REMAINED on the LINE of the Christian journey towards God. I can see the RE-newal of my mainline church all around me, and it still is a MAIN part of my identity.

After all, if you stick the prefix re- in front of almost anything, you lend that term a sense of creation, of promise. Whether it’s recycling old cans, redoing a failing essay, or repairing a well-traveled car, we have never hesitated to use that re- syllable whenever it fit.

Why can’t we do that in describing our church?

Why haven’t we done that in describing our church?

Because…it’s a pretty natural fit.

Long live the ReMainline Church.

Yours in Christ,
Eric

Scripture and Generation Y in the Culture Wars

(Author’s note: Just an FYI—I am taking the next two Sundays off to be with my family for Mother’s Day and my younger sister’s college graduation, so there won’t be any new sermons here until May 27, but I’ll still be posting during the week. –E.A.)

A lot has happened in the last 48 hours on the cultural wedge issue of same-sex equality.  North Carolina voters passed Amendment One (their same-sex marriage ban), and President Obama came out in favor of full same-sex equality.

Now, to begin this post, a disclaimer: Some, perhaps many of you, may disagree with what I am about to say on the subject. I want to borrow, then, for a second, from Dan Kimball when he wrote about his own wrestling with the issue of same-sex equality (albeit to a somewhat different conclusion than me) in his excellent book They Like Jesus, But Not the Church:

“I recognize that by stating my position, I seem to be drawing ugly lines in the Christian world when I wish there didn’t have to be an “us versus them” over this issue. I hope you sense my heart in this, and I hope that I demonstrate compassion and understanding to those who hold a different viewpoint than I do. If you knew me, you would know that I’m only trying my best to base my position on the Scriptures. It’s from my best understanding of the Scriptures that I take the position that I do.”

Additionally, truth be told, I have been holding in this particular blog post for a number of weeks, because Washington state has been wrestling with this issue as well while signatures are gathered for a ballot measure to overturn the legalization of same-sex marriage that was passed by our legislature and signed into law by Governor Chris Gregoire earlier this year.

While my own views on same-sex equality are well-formed (ie, not evolving, har har har), I realize that I pastor to a congregation that, while theologically rather moderate, is very politically diverse, from hard-right wing Republicans to Prius-driving Democrats. Part of my calling is to offer no favoritism to anyone in my flock on the basis of political ideology.

Yet politics and religion cannot help but clash. (Don’t blame me. Blame all those ancient empires who claimed that their emperor was a deity.) Trying to thread the needle between being prophetic and being gentle has tested all of my creativity and psychic energy. At the same time, I love and cherish Scripture, and have believed in same-sex equality since I was a teenager.

However, my reasons for that belief have shifted over time. At first, I saw it simply through the prism of equality. But in conversations with fellow Christians who were opposed to same-sex marriage, I realized that, sooner or later, I would need to tackle the Scriptural side of the issue.

Now, I recognize what Levitical law says about same-sex intercourse in the context of two men: “You must not have sexual intercourse with a man as you would with a woman; it is a detestable practice.” (18:22) And,  “If a man has sexual intercourse with a man as he would with a woman, the two of them have done something detestable. They must be executed, their blood is on their own heads.” (20:13) (Both verses are from the Common English Bible translation.)  This is also to say nothing of Paul's own writings on the topic in Romans 1.

I cannot, and will not, dismiss that these verses are in Scripture, which I consider to be the inspired Word of God. However, there are a couple of realities worth noting—

First, this does not mean that the Bible views marriage as between one man and one woman. In fact, Deuteronomy 21:15-17 is all about rules for men with more than one wife, and the Biblical heroes Abraham, Jacob, David, and Solomon all practiced polygamy. Yes, some parts of the Bible do indeed say that it is (1 Corinthians 7 is a great place to start). But, clearly, parts of the Bible also do not, and to argue that the Bible says marriage is only between one man and one woman necessitates some picking and choosing.   And so, after lots of study and prayer, I have come to the conclusion that I honestly do not believe that the Bible is of a uniform opinion of what marriage is.  I think you could maybe make the argument that the Bible may say what marriage isn't, but not necessarily what marriage is.

Second (and on the topic of picking and choosing) I doubt any of us would say that same-sex intercourse should be a capital crime today, even if we do believe that it is wrong or sinful. If we believe that same-sex relations should not be criminalized (and that ship has clearly sailed with the Lawrence v. Texas Supreme Court decision from a few years back), then we have already begun to discount Scripture by ignoring the proscribed punishment for a transgression. More to the point, we have already begun to pick and choose within the very verses that condemn same-sex attraction, and are already choosing to discard the portions of those verses that we find distasteful. I feel like I’ve said it a million times on this blog, but it probably bears repeating…all of us pick and choose when it comes to Scripture. Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

This leaves me with the question of, why, then, do we pick and choose these precious few verses from Leviticus and Romans? (I’ll dispense with the Sodom and Gomorrah story right now by simply quoting Ezekiel 16:49-50: “This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. They were haughty, and did abominable things before me.” The way I understand this passage is that it is a laundry list of sins, and so if same-sex intercourse is indeed what Ezekiel is referring to here by “abominable things,” then it is simply #6 on God’s list in this passage.)

And I’m genuinely wondering why this is, because, to borrow from Rachel Held Evans, I am a member of a generation that is tired of fighting the culture wars. One of the defining characteristics of my generation (Generation Y) is that we were taught to celebrate diversity from an early age, and so we really do try to practice the mentality of live and let live. We were taught that service is more important—witness the record numbers of young adults going into programs like Teach for America. And so for us, the efforts to ban same-sex marriage rather than, say, to further education or alleviate poverty, does violate our collective ethos.

Please understand that by saying this, I am not trying to say that my generation is right and all others are wrong.  But I can say, based on my own individual and anecdotal experience with my peers in my age group here on the West Coast, that the culture wars do alienate a LOT of people my age from the church, which saddens me greatly.  They see our priorities as being misplaced, and...well, they have a point.

About $3.3 million was spent by both sides combined on North Carolina’s Amendment One, which constitutionally bans same-sex marriage and which was passed by voters on Tuesday. Here are some things that the $3.3 million could have paid for instead:

Full funding of UNICEF’s humanitarian education aid in Ethiopia for all of 2012

OR

30 days of emergency food and shelter from the American Red Cross for 7,857 people (at $350 for 25 victims per day)

OR

Providing 2,374,100 beds in international hospitals with Bibles from the Gideons. That’s over 2.3 MILLION patients being provided with God’s Word. (at $1,112 per 800 beds)

I understand and recognize that this is an issue of tradition and of Scriptural interpretation for a lot of people—perhaps including you—but I have to admit that it really hurts me (and, I think, a lot of people my age) that we are devoting so much of our time, money, and energy on campaigns to keep people from getting married when thousands of children die every day from starvation and malnutrition, or when the governments of nations like China and North Korea deny their people access to God’s Word and routinely persecute Christians.

Approve of same-sex marriage, don’t approve of it…you’ll have Scripture to back up your view either way. But in my heart of hearts, I feel like preventing people from getting married is the gnat being strained out while we swallow many, many camels in the form of human suffering and the absence of God’s Word.

Yours in Christ,
Eric

Letters to the Editor

Today is a first (of sorts) for me...the first time I decided to write a letter to the editor since I was in high school was last week, and today, The Daily News (our local paper) is running it.  You can find both my letter and the letter it is responding to in their entirety (sans individual names) below.

I have one clarification to make--I am identified by occupation in the letter.  This can make it look like I was speaking for my congregation in an official capacity.  I was not, I was speaking only for myself, though I did strive for my thoughts on Christian diversity to be reflective of the Disciples of Christ ourselves.  When I emailed my letter in, I simply signed it "Rev. Eric Atcheson," but below it was all of my occupational contact information that is standard in my email signature, and  the newspaper included part of it.  I apologize.

Yours in Christ,

Eric

The letter I was responding to:

Christianity vs. liberalism

Some people have a strange idea that Christians want to force their will upon you. Think again. Who thinks you shouldn't spank kids? Liberals. Who thinks you should be able to spank kids? Christians. Did Christians pass laws forcing you to spank? No. Who forced their will upon all so you can't spank kids? Liberals.

Who doesn't want to use the morning-after pill? Christians. Who tries to force pharmacists with principles to sell the pill? Liberals. Who doesn't want to use contraceptives? Some Christians. Who wants to spend tax money from Christians to purchase these items for some girls? Liberals.

Christians feel if somebody wants contraceptives, give up a couple of visits to Starbucks and purchase their own or go to a free clinic to obtain them. Christians refusing to spend their tax money on something which they believe morally wrong is far from forcing their will upon others.

Christians invite, Liberals demand. If you don't believe me, check out what the Liberals are doing to farm families — pages of new regulations saying what farmers' kids can and can't do.

Read more: http://tdn.com/news/opinion/letters-tea-party-values/article_349491ac-93d7-11e1-951b-001a4bcf887a.html#ixzz1uNFusYb6

My letter: 

The diverse Christian spectrum

This is in response to a letter of May 2. Or, more specifically, this is in response to the fundamental premise of that letter, which seems to be that Christianity and liberalism are complete opposites.

I cannot imagine how someone could arrive soundly at such an over generalized, "us and them" premise. Not only does scripture speak to issues often associated with "family values" conservatives, like divorce (Matthew 5:31-32) and chastity (1 Corinthians 7:8), but it also speaks to issues often associated with "social justice" liberals, like equality for the poor (Luke 6:20) and protecting the vulnerable (James 1:27).

In other words, there's a reason why Christians come in all political flavors — it is because scripture instructs us on many issues across the spectrum, and it is up to us to determine how to use our faith to inform our votes.

So, when you see the cross I wear around my neck, please do not just assume that I think a particular way about things. Instead, have a cup of coffee with me and hear what I have to say. I would be happy to return the favor.

Rev. Eric Atcheson Pastor, First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) Longview

Read more: http://tdn.com/news/opinion/letters-their-kind-of-town/article_7d4119ec-9950-11e1-803c-001a4bcf887a.html#ixzz1uNFRIkEp

If You Can Read This, Thank a Teacher

...and if you can understand my writing, even more power to you. :)

So it turns out that this week, May 7-11, 2012, is National Teacher Appreciation Week.

And, even though I protested, at our final preschool chapel here at church last week, the preschoolers insisted that I was a teacher as well, just like their regular preschool teachers.  It was very sweet.

But really, there is in fact a lot of overlap between what I do and what our public and private schoolteachers do.  There's a reason why many pastors are referred to as teachers.  If I wanted to be really egomaniacal, I could go on a discourse about how Jesus was referred to as "Teacher," but so was Sir Leigh Teabing in the Da Vinci Code, so, you know, it cuts both ways.

As a student, I tended to express my appreciation for my teachers with time-honored behaviors like not paying attention in class, turning in my homework late, and doodling cartoon caricatures of them as '60s-era hippies on the back of said late homework (sorry, Mr. Spurlock.  It was my way of voicing my opposition to the existence of precalculus).

But there is more than a germ of truth to the cliche that it takes a village to raise a child.  And there is no way that you would be able to read the mildly deranged ramblings of a young solo pastor if that pastor didn't take high school English seriously.  So, I want to offer a quick shout out to just a few of the greatest teachers I benefited from during my vaguely meaningful time in America's public school system...

First and foremost to my high school band director, Steve Adams.  Marching band under him gave me not only a sense of purpose, but an irritating case of obsessive compulsiveness.  But band truly was my saving grace in high school.

To my high school speech and debate coaches, Scott Sowers, Jo Ball, and Cathy Wood.  Their guidance, support, and tough love gave me the skills to not only be good at public speaking, but to actually enjoy it, and to turn it into a wonderful scholarship opportunity in college.

To my junior high school gifted education teacher and debate coach, Stan Stern.  Not many teachers would let you get away with designing a video game with your best friend as a part of your individual exploration curriculum; even fewer would encourage that sort of creativity.

To all of my math and science teachers after about, oh, the seventh grade...I'm sorry.  It isn't that my religion was opposed to your fields of study, it's that my brain and work ethic were.

And this is to say nothing of the plethora of religious teachers who I appreciate on a daily basis.  But then the Establishment Clause police would probably come and read me Miranda if I conflated the two ("Eric Atcheson, you have the right to remain religious.  Anything you say can and will be held against you at the Final Judgment.  You have the right to a Messiah.  If you cannot afford a Messiah, then you should probably stop listening to the Prosperity Gospel...")

Teachers rock, y'all.  Let one know how much you appreciate them.

Yours in Christ,
Eric

PS: In case you're wondering--these days, the pastor prefers a nice latte, too.

This Week's Sermon: "Rise Up, Lazarus!"

John 11:34-44

34 He asked, “Where have you laid him?” They replied, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Jesus began to cry. 36 The Jews said, “See how much he loved him!” 37 But some of them said, “He healed the eyes of the man born blind. Couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?” 38 Jesus was deeply disturbed again when he came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone covered the entrance. 39 Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said, “Lord, the smell will be awful! He’s been dead four days.” 40 Jesus replied, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believe, you will see God’s glory?” 41 So they removed the stone. Jesus looked up and said, “Father, thank you for hearing me. 42 I know you always hear me. I say this for the benefit of the crowd standing here so that they will believe that you sent me.” 43 Having said this, Jesus shouted with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” 44 The dead man came out, his feet bound and his hands tied, and his face covered with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.” (CEB)

 “The Lazarus Mission: In Search of the Meaning of a Miracle,” Week Four

I began this sermon series four weeks ago by invoking the dusty dunes of the outskirts of Tijuana, Mexico, and it is there that I want to end this sermon series as well.

When our time constructing houses there was complete, in June of 2010, we held a prayer circle for the families who would be moving into these new, humble, but lovingly created homes. We formed circles, prayed, sang, and gave each family a cross to decorate their new home with before departing.

And after the service at one of the new houses, I slipped away and saw the family next door—also moving into a new house—I saw the young husband and wife, both about my age, sitting on a rock together wrapped up in the fiercest hug I think I have ever seen.

But hearing the steps of my clearly not-very-stealthy-or-ninja-like feet, they broke apart. And as privileged as I felt to see such a display of love and intimacy, I felt even worse for having intruded upon it, for the simple truth that really, I had not earned the right to witness that kind of hope. And in that way, I had become like the crowd gathered at Lazarus’s tomb, who has not earned the right to witness that miracle, to intrude upon a family’s grief and celebration, but who have gathered here anyways. We are all in that crowd now, waiting for our own next miracle.

This Sunday marks the final installment of this sermon series for us that we have been exploring as a celebration of the church season of Easter, as well during as of the earthly season of spring—which means that for both Christians and non-Christians alike, this is a time of growth and renewal and, most importantly, of new life! Having heard almost one month ago the most famous resurrection story the Bible has to offer on Easter Sunday, we have spent the last four weeks going verse-by-verse through the second-most famous resurrection story—the story of the raising of Jesus’s friend Lazarus, a story that is only found in the Gospel of John. It is not the only resurrection miracle that Jesus performs—there is also, in the other three Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), the story of Jairus’s daughter being resurrected by Jesus. But the raising of Lazarus is told in such rich and lavish detail that it has come to occupy a unique place in our collective memory as an exceptionally well-known and well-loved story. The first week, to kick off the story, we began with Jesus first hearing that Lazarus has fallen ill—not that Lazarus has died—but that he is sick. The second week, Jesus pronounces Lazarus dead and finally acts—to return to Judea to raise Lazarus, and last week, He arrives and we see the drama begin to unfold with his exchange with Lazarus’s sister Martha. And this is the grand finale, the moment we have all been waiting for, the moment that Lazarus is actually risen from the grave!

I spoke about this phenomenon two weeks earlier in this sermon series, but I really do believe that the character whom we are supposed to identify with as the audience, as people gathered in this crowd, changes as the story progresses. The story begins with Jesus, but in week two’s passage, we are meant to identify with the disciples and with Thomas as they figure out how they’re going to respond to Jesus’ intent to go on what could well be a suicide mission, to return to Judea where He is a wanted man. And in last week’s passage, we are clearly meant to identify with the frustration and faith of Martha. It would be easy to say we are still meant to identify with Martha and her sister Mary even now—in the interim, Mary echoes Martha’s frustration in saying to Jesus, “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” and we can tell that Martha’s faith is still incomplete when she objects to Jesus’ command to roll away the stone at Lazarus’s tomb, saying, “Lord, there will be a stench because he has been dead for four days.” Which only serves to drive the point home—this is not, John is saying to us, the raising of Jairus’s daughter, of a person thought dead but who was actually sleeping, this is a person who is, without a doubt, deader than Lindsay Lohan’s Hollywood career.

And it may not be our instinct to relate to that state of being dead, but we’re meant to. The person who represents us, the audience, in this last part of the story is Lazarus himself. Jesus, the Resurrection and the Life, is calling to the deadness in our own souls—the absence of life in our own journeys that has been caused by hurt and pain and sin and strife. Amid the death that those things create, Jesus invites us to experience life by simply saying, “Rise up, Lazarus.”

Eugene Lowry, an emeritus professor at Saint Paul School of Theology in my hometown of Kansas City, he calls it the “homiletical plot.” We would think of it in terms of the proverbial curveball—we see an obstacle coming, it looks like a fastball, but then it dips down, and it is up to us to adjust, and then we either swing and miss, or hit a home run. Professor Lowry calls these stages “upsetting the equilibrium,” which would be when Lazarus falls ill, the status quo has been altered. Then comes “analyzing the discrepancy,” which is a way of saying, “What are we going to do?” That took place during week two of the story, when Jesus and the disciples debate returning to Judea. Then there is learning “the clue to resolution,” discovering what it is that will solve the problem—which is us learning from Martha of Jesus’ status as the resurrection and the life. And now is best and greatest step—experiencing the Gospel—experiencing the Resurrection and the Life of Jesus Christ in Lazarus, and, by extension, in each of us as well.

Because when the equilibrium of our own lives is upset—when the delicate balance of health and work and finances and security that we are always carefully adjusting is thrown asunder, we are left asking, just like the disciples, “What are we going to do?” The answer from God is the same—experience the Gospel. Experience the Good News. For, Lazarus experiences the Gospel and is shown the way out of death and into life—to simply rise up, and walk!

A colleague and friend of mine in ministry was diagnosed with a T-1 cancerous carcinoma in his kidney last month. He underwent surgery this week to remove part of the kidney, and the pathology report came back this weekend to say that he is now cancer-free and will recover in 6-8 weeks. Out of death and into life…for Christ says, rise up, Lazarus!

Also just earlier this week, a classmate of mine from seminary was attending the general conference for the United Methodist Church in Tampa, Florida. She was struck by a Chevy Silverado pickup truck and rushed to Tampa General Hospital. She made it through with a heavily injured right foot, but without any life-threatening injuries, and after asking, “What am I going to do,” she returned to be at the general conference the next day. Rise up, Lazarus!

Those Sunday evenings I am able to visit the Narcotics Anonymous group that meets in our Upper Room, I see the ritual that they begin every meeting with, of asking those who have been sober for one month, three, six, nine, and then a whole year or more raise their hands to show the program works. I hear their stories, their testimonies, and I think, rise up, Lazarus!

A young family, impoverished and struggling, lives on a dirt floor of a cobbled-together shack. They are contacted by a non-profit charity that brings Christian volunteers from the States to build houses. A house is built. A family is saved. And God says, rise up, Lazarus!

A historic church that has been a pillar of its community for decades upon decades sees its numbers shrink and its ministries lessen. They respond by saying that they know that God is not finished with them yet, and fueled by this faith, they begin building new ministries, and initiating new missions, and spreading the Gospel of Jesus Christ to more people. Their numbers slowly begin to grow again, and God says to this church…to our church, rise up, Lazarus!

And I wish I could tell you that we are given no burden that we cannot bear, but that is not always true, for as it is written in Ecclesiastes, time and chance happens to us all. But where in your life do you need to be risen up, to be resurrected and given new life by God? Because even as the forces of time and chance work against us, God continues to work for us by repeating to us the same mantra that worked a miracle two thousand years ago—“Rise up, Lazarus!”

Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Rev. Eric Atcheson
Longview, Washington
May 6, 2012

Letters from the Soul: This Month's Newsletter Column

“Tradition for Today” 

When I saw something happening slower than I would have liked it to, I used to describe that thing, whatever it was, as “moving slower than molasses in January.” But since I started seminary, I have begun using the expression “moving at the speed of church” instead!

Congregational churches, especially fully autonomous ones like ours, are deliberative by necessity. We take time, consider options, and proceed forward. That is as it should be. Even so, we have managed to accomplish quite a lot together so far. Consider that in the last eight months, we have begun several new ministries together, including:

-Participating in the Kessler Elementary Backpack Buddies program and provided three completely full grocery carts worth of food for it in a span of under three months

-The monthly Christian Music Jam sessions

-The evening Bible study

-The young adults Sunday School class

-The “Second Sundays” new member’s class

-A new Pastoral Relations Team and a new Personnel Committee

That’s an awful lot for moving at the speed of church!

And there are still more new opportunities on the horizon—Lynn Taylor and I have been collaborating on a new Sunday evening prayer service to take place in the Fellowship Hall beginning May 6. Look for this exciting new service to be making a splash very soon!

But as with every ministry that we do, these new programs emphatically do not mean “out with the old.” They mean that we are discovering new and exciting ways to be church together in the 21st century while also continuing to be inspired by the Christians who have come before us. As The Daily News headline about us in October said, we are about tradition for today. Let that be our vision as we continue to move forward together.

Yours in Christ,
Pastor Eric