Today I will be preaching the first of three installments of a short sermon series called “Lessons from the Early Church”. I hope to lead you through three different stories from this era. The themes of death and resurrection, the cost of faith, and the necessity of love are among the most important messages that Jesus shared with those who had ears to hear. Together we will look at how some of the themes they wrestled with back then and relate them to our covenantal life together today.
The period of time that I am calling ‘early church’ is from the sacking of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. until Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire in 313 A.D. The apostles and other followers of Jesus had scattered following the first Jewish Revolt. Many of them became martyrs and died for their faith, others founded religious communities in far-flung places like Antioch, Alexandria and Rome.
At first, these communities followed the Jewish Law and the Prophets of the Hebrew Bible and some of the Psalms. There were no formal creeds or confessions. They began to use simple affirmations of faith, such as "Jesus is Lord". Worship was unstructured, held in secret locations throughout the Mediterranean, and existed in a variety of forms.
This early community anticipated the imminent return of Jesus Christ, and yet the first generation of believers had begun to die. So they decided to write down all the stories that were being told in their communities, those that had been passed down by their apostolic founders. The Gospel of John which we read from today came together around 90 AD.
Sometimes I think we forget how radical a story the Raising of Lazarus might have been to those who heard it first. Given the very real problem of living in a violent time of religious persecution, I imagine that hearing these words brought comfort to those who feared for their lives. I also think that telling a resurrection story about one of Jesus’ closest followers gave them a lot of hope. I think it opened the
door of possibility for them, it unbound them from the expectations of death
and turned them towards life.
When I think of what it means to be unbound from limitations I am reminded of my son Zack. Before I go any further, it’s really important to me that you know I have his permission to talk about him today. If he had told me even ten minutes ago that he changed his mind, I promise you that I would stop.
Many of you know Zack as a sensitive, tall, twelve year old boy. What you may not know about him is that when he was a small child we began to suspect something was different about him. Most babies begin babbling at about a year, but Zack didn’t really speak until he was three. He had sensitivity to light, sound and touch, so much in fact that when we would go see a movie I knew to cover his ears during the
sound test because he would panic. When he did finally speak, he could tell you
with amazing clarity everything there is to know about dinosaurs, bugs and
spiders whether you wanted to know about them or not. But when he spoke he
couldn’t look you in the eye.
We began taking him from one specialist to another when he was five. They ran a battery of tests to try and understand what it was that was causing some of his social skills to be delayed. His behavior seemed to slip further and further behind his peers.
Finally, in Kindergarten, we were given a diagnosis. Zack lives with a very mild form of autism called “Aspberger’s Syndrome”. Some of the characteristics
of ‘Aspies’ include: delayed speech, trouble with reading facial cues and
emotions, obsessive behavior and clumsiness.
Our next job as his family was to learn everything we could about how our son related to the world. We found out that autism is a spectrum that presents itself differently in each individual. Although he would have to work hard to learn things that many of us take for granted, there was hope. We advocated for special education at his school and enrolled him in social activities that he could handle. We taught him very
specifically how to communicate with another person. We even quizzed him on
things like sarcasm and metaphor – which to his logical mind is still a little
bit like learning a foreign language.
Possibly the very best thing we did for his development was to enroll him in a martial arts program. I remember in 2008 when he took his first Tung Su Do class he was unable to do a jumping jack. He struggled that first year, but kept up with it. Zack practiced at home and attended 2 or 3 classes a week. He studied his Korean terminology and forms. He even demonstrated his progress at last year’s MCC coffeehouse! In a few short weeks he will test for his black belt.
When I think about how far Zack has come, and how hard he has worked, I am overcome with gratitude for all of the people who have helped us. We know that he will always have to work a little harder in social situations, but there are also gifts to be found in someone living with Aspberger’s. Delayed speech can become thoughtful response. Obsessive behavior can become a thirst for knowledge. Being taught to interpret emotions can lead to a deep sense of empathy. I can’t wait to see what is
possible in his life as he continues to grow.
I think that when the early church told the story about Lazarus being raised from the dead by Jesus they were speaking about new life and possibility – same kind of possibility I see in my son. Jesus says to the crowd surrounding Lazarus at the edge of the tomb: “Unbind him and let him go”. Just when his family thought there was no hope, Jesus is there. Just when the disciples felt their faith had been in
vain, they discover that hope never dies when God is involved. Lazarus becomes
for them, and for us, a symbol of new beginnings, of hope and possibility, not
just for an individual but for the entire community.
We know that many churches like ours are facing overwhelming difficulties. Shrinking mission budgets, apathy, overwhelmed lay leaders, interpersonal conflict, power struggles and a desire to “keep things the way they have always been” are just some of the struggles we face. We say that we are “resurrection people” one moment, but that “our hands are tied” the next. I want to suggest to you today that our life together need not be this way.
We belong to God; we belong to one another. In his book, Reaching Out, Henri Nouwen tells of a reunion with a former student, an experience that revealed to him the meaning of community: “It is the Christ in you, who recognizes the Christ in me… From now on, wherever you go, or wherever I go, all the ground between us will be holy
ground.”
Let us be a community that walks on holy ground, practicing the radical hospitality Jesus modeled. Starting with our most personal relationships and moving through expanding circles – of friends, relations, church family, co-workers, and others with whom we come in contact. And then, let’s widen our circle, reaching out to unknown neighbors. As a center of hope and transformation, of possibility… let us be a church that shepherds people onto holy ground.
There is life and hope. There is joy and love. There is compassion, and generosity, goodwill, energy, and passion. All these things are gathered here, in this community of faith. And there are people outside our walls that need to know that MCC has these
things to offer. They need to hear that in this place we have been unbound, set
free, able to lead a new life of bold possibility.
