Sermon; Easter 4B; John 10:11-18

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday, so named because on the 4^th Sunday of Easter we always hear from John 10, the Chapter of shepherds and sheep.  Today’s selection is my favorite of the three, and one of my favorite passages in John.  Not only is this one of the selections for funerals, but it has a very inclusive tone to it.

This particular passage is all about Jesus as the Good Shepherd.  He will not run away when faced with death.  Instead, he will actually die to protect his sheep – us.  This bears out in his willingness to die on behalf of us.  He died for our sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world; and by his death he took away death.  He knows his sheep precisely because he is the good shepherd.  He feeds them, cares for them, and protects them.  And because he knows them in this way, the sheep – us – also know him.

This image of sheep and shepherd was certainly familiar to the people Jesus was addressing.  The prophet Ezekiel likened the kings of Israel to bad shepherds who neglected their flock.  Those shepherds, the kings, oppressed their sheep.  They fed themselves, not the sheep.  They took the sheep’s wool and left them naked.  They did not strengthen the weak, they didn’t heal the sick and injured, and they didn’t search for the lost.  Therefore, Ezekiel prophesies, the Lord God will become the good shepherd.  He will find the lost, heal the sick and injured, and feed the hungry.  And now both the Pharisees and us hear Jesus say he is the good shepherd.

We are also familiar with these images of shepherds and sheep.  Shepherds were the first people to see the infant Jesus in the manger.  Priests and bishops are seen as shepherds of the flock.  A bishop’s crozier is modeled on the shepherd’s staff – to protect, guide, and defend.  And in this part of the country, you are all familiar with sheep and shepherds.

One of the things some people pull from this passage is an exclusionary view of Christ and Christians.  “I know my own and my own know me,” can be seen as a way of saying, “Christ knows those who have been saved and only those who are saved know Christ.”  Extrapolated out, of course, is a belief that only Christians (and often only the right Christians) are saved; all others are outside the protection of the flock.

But Jesus goes on to say, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.  I must bring them also.”  Early interpreters, people like Augustine and Theodore of Mopsuestia, pointed out that this statement had to do with Judaism and Christianity.  Since Jesus is talking to Pharisees, they are not wrong.  The new movement of Jesus were those sheep the Pharisees didn’t know about.  Two thousand years later, Christianity is now the established religion that Jesus is talking to, and we are being reminded that Jesus has other sheep that do not belong to this fold.

I can’t tell you who those other unknown sheep are, but I can tell you how we should approach this.

The first thing we can do is to recognize that people we may not approve of can be called  by Jesus.  Whether that’s due to differing theologies, different status, different abilities, different class, these are those other sheep that don’t belong to this fold.  We are not trying to convert everyone to become Episcopalians – although that might be nice.  We are simply trying to lead by example and proclaim the good news of God as exemplified in and through Jesus Christ.

The second thing to remember, and this should be self-evident, is that Jesus is in charge, not us.  If he’s telling us he has other sheep to bring into the fold, then it’s not our job to keep them out.  It is not our job to serve as gatekeepers in an effort to protect what we have, or to create a litmus test as to who belongs to Christ.

This is not to say we don’t have expectations and guidelines, because we do.  We are Trinitarian.  We have a baptismal covenant we try to live into.  We won’t tolerate hate speech or abusive behavior.  And these are those people for whom the Episcopal church isn’t a good fit – because of liturgy, or theology, or our acceptance of those whom society shuns.  But that’s different than trying to be gatekeepers.

This passage also speaks to the mission of the Church.  According to the Catechism, what is the mission of the Church?  The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ (BCP 855).  This sounds a lot like what Jesus has to say today:  I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold – All people.  So there will be one flock – restore to unity; one shepherd – in Christ.

Getting everyone to become an Episcopalian isn’t the goal.  Guarding the gates of heaven or the doors of the Church to protect it from the wrong people isn’t the goal.  The goal is to proclaim the good news of God in Christ in such a way that people feel welcome to explore the faith and examine their doubts.  The goal is to live in such a way that people who are not part of this fold want to be part of the flock of Christ.  The goal is to make the kingdom of God present on earth as it is in heaven.  We do this through our actions and through our words.

As St. Teresa of Avila said, “Christ has no hands, eyes, or feet on earth but yours.”  I might also add, “He also has no mouth but yours.”

We are both sheep and shepherd.  Sheep in that we follow Christ’s voice and try to live as he leads us.  Shepherds in that we are now Christ’s hands, feet, and mouth as we work to bring others into the one flock of Christ.

May we not only do the hard work of following Christ’s voice ourselves while helping lead others into this flock, but may we also be willing to open our eyes to see those whom others see as not belonging, welcoming them into the flock.

Amen.

Sermon; Easter 2B; John 20:19-31

Today’s gospel story spans a week’s time.  The first half takes place Easter evening.  The women (or woman) had gone to the tomb early in the morning only to find it empty.  This news spreads throughout the group of disciples and they are now secretly gathered together to talk about what’s going on.  While gathered together, Jesus miraculously appears and gives them John’s version of the Great Commission.  But Thomas, who is called “the twin,” wasn’t with them.

Scripture doesn’t say this, but I’ve always maintained he was down at the bank filling out new signature cards because Judas was obviously no longer the treasurer.  Anyway, he wasn’t there and he doubts their story, demanding proof of the Resurrection.

A week later, so . . . today . . . Jesus appears again, but this time Thomas is with them.  After seeing his wounded hands and side, Thomas utters those famous words, “My Lord and my God.”

The first thing I want to say is that Thomas gets a bad rap for this.  Throughout the millennia and all over the world he has become known as . . . what? . . . Doubting Thomas; as if that were a bad thing, or as if he was the only one who doubted.  But listen to this:

            The eleven disciples went to Galilee as Jesus had directed them.  When they saw him, they worshipped him, but some doubted – Matthew

            Mary Magdalene went and told the disciples, but they would not believe it.  He also appeared in another form to two other disciples as they were walking in the country.  They went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them – Mark’s longer ending

            The women told the news to the apostles, but these words seemed to them to be an idle tale and they did not believe them . . . While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering – Luke

 

The only difference is that Thomas is named.  We could easily have had Doubting Peter, Doubting Andrew, Doubting James, or Doubting John.  But it’s Thomas who has been saddled with that unfortunate nickname.

I say “unfortunate” because people have this idea that doubt is bad, especially when it comes to faith.

Doubt, however, far from being a bad thing allows us to grow.  It allows us to explore.  It allows us to test.  It allows us to question.  Thomas’ doubt, his questioning, allowed him to have his own experience of the risen Christ.  No amount of prodding or proselytizing from the other disciples was going to convince him otherwise.

This is a lesson for us.  When we talk with other people about our faith, we should approach that discussion not with, “I know Jesus and this is what you need to do,” but with, “This is how I experience Jesus, and I invite you to explore how you might experience him.”  The first approach assumes you know what’s best for the other person, while the second approach invites them to join you on a journey.  And that’s exactly what this is – a journey.

Personal faith is a process, not a one-time event.  Faith is a journey with many twists and turns, and ups and downs.  Our faith can be challenged by personal events – the unexpected death of a friend or family member, as well as larger events – war, famine, homelessness.  Look at Peter who said Jesus was the Messiah, and then denied knowing him.  Or any of the other disciples who promised to follow him to the death, but deserted him instead.  This is just one of the reasons I dislike the question, “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?”  Because it’s simplistic and assumes a one-and-done event.

Personal faith is our response to Divine Truth.  Divine Truths are those Truths which we have been gifted by God through the Holy Spirit and Scripture.  Things like:  God created, the Trinity, God is love, the Resurrection, Holy Communion.  These are Truths which have been revealed to us, which we have come to believe are True, and through our faith are acted upon.

Faith, like love, is a verb.  Our faith shapes who we are and leads us to particular actions.  Our faith leads us to worship God on a regular basis – we don’t just believe in God, we come and worship.  Our faith leads us to sacrificial love – we don’t just pray for those in need, we work to alleviate whatever is causing the problem.  Our faith allows us to explore the mystery of God.  Our faith isn’t about understanding; it’s about being open to mystery and exploration, and finally bringing us to a place where we can, like Thomas, proclaim, “My Lord and my God.”

This statement of Thomas’ carries more weight than we often think it does.  In a time when Caesar was seen to be a type of divinity, in a time when Caesar had ultimate power, Thomas’ statement was the ultimate statement of revolution.  Only Christ would be worthy of his loyalty.  Only Christ would be worthy of his worship.  Only Christ would dictate how he would live.  Because of his faith, he could do no other.

To whom are we loyal?  Who do we worship?  Who dictates how we live?  If Christ doesn’t inform and guide every aspect of our lives, are we really living into our faith?

As we continue to explore what the empty tomb means, don’t be afraid of doubts, because those doubts can and should lead you to explore and deepen your faith.

Amen.

 

Sermon; Easter Day 2024

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!                                            

The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia!

Today is a day of celebration.  Today is the day of Resurrection.  Today is the day all creation lets out its collective breath.  Today is the day Christ has defeated sin and death.  Today is the day we’ve hoped for – let us shout, “Alleluia!” to the Lord.

On this day the sun shines brighter, as the darkness of death has been vanquished.  On this day our steps are lighter as we shrug off the gloom and weight of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday.  This is the day of triumph, and I am glad you are here to celebrate this day with us.

For those who don’t know, there’s a tradition here at Saint Luke’s where the kids, as they come back into church from Sunday school, as the priest a question.  It’s not exactly a “Stump the Rector” kind of thing, but I need to be ready for anything, and I need to be fairly quick-thinking.  The question last week was, “What is your favorite resurrection story?”  I actually have two of them, and we get to hear them both this year.

The first is from the Gospel of Mark, which we heard earlier this morning at the Easter Vigil.  The women go to the tomb only to find an angel who tells them 1) Don’t be afraid (because that’s what angels do); 2) Jesus has been raised; and, 3) Go tell his disciples.  And what do the women do?  They run away and say nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.  The end.

It’s such an odd and unsatisfying ending to Mark’s gospel that later writers added not one but TWO different endings in an effort to make it more appealing.  But I like the original ending.  Among other things, Mark is known for things happening “Immediately.”  Immediately the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.  Immediately Simon and Andrew left their nets to follow Jesus.  Immediately the Pharisees conspired with the Herodians as to how to destroy him.  Mark uses immediately as often as all the other gospels combined.  Because of that, it becomes easy to see Mark as a gospel of action.  But when it comes to today, we are left hanging.  Why didn’t the women immediately go and tell the disciples about the resurrection?

My take on this is that this is Mark’s way of saying it’s no longer about the characters in his gospel story, it’s now about us.  It’s now about those reading the story.  It’s now about you.

Today the tomb is empty.  Today we meet an angel who tells us that Jesus has been raised, he is not here.  Today we are told to go tell people about the Resurrection, the fulfilled promise, and the news that sin and death have been defeated.  Today we are given the same choice the women were given:  we can run away from here and say nothing to anyone because we are afraid, or we can choose to tell people what we have seen and experienced here today.

If we run away, the story ends with us.  If we tell people, the story continues.  And that’s why this is one of my favorite resurrection stories – because in a story of resurrection and new life, I can’t let the story die with me.

My other favorite story is the one we just heard.  Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb alone, finds it empty, goes and tells Peter and (traditionally) John, has an encounter with “the gardener,” and then realizes that the gardener is really the resurrected Christ.

There are some bits of humor here – how does she think she can carry a corpse by herself, and where is she going to put it? – but it’s really a story about how we see.

The first question everyone always asks is, “Why didn’t Mary know it was Jesus?”  The answer is because resurrection fundamentally changed the human Jesus.  He was no longer fully human/fully divine, he was now fully divine.  He went from being Jesus to being Christ.  Mary was not yet used to seeing him this way.  Mary didn’t realize who he was until she wasn’t looking at him and heard his voice.  Sometimes our eyes blind us from seeing what’s really there.

How many times have we judged people based on what we see – hair styles, skin color, what they drive, what they wear, etc.?

Sometime during my teenage years, so maybe 45 years ago or so, I used to ride a Greyhound Bus from Seattle to various points in eastern Washington.  I met some interesting people during those trips, most of whom I’ve forgotten; but one person stands out in my memory. 

I think my mom dropped me off at the station and I got on the bus and found a seat, hoping, as you do, that nobody would sit next to me.  About one minute before departure, I saw her.  She was overweight, disheveled, was struggling with one-too-many bags, and had long hair that looked like she hadn’t washed it in a week or more.  And she sat down right next to me.  I promptly turned toward the window and pretended to fall asleep.

Unfortunately I couldn’t pretend for the whole trip, so halfway through I “woke up.”  At which point she told me she had saved half of her chocolate bar to share with me (because Greyhound doesn’t serve snacks), and we began to have a really good conversation which included me explaining the appeal of Pac-Man to her.  When we reached our common destination, I sprung for a couple games of Pac-Man in the lobby and then we went our separate ways.  It wasn’t until I stopped looking at her with my eyes and began seeing her by getting to know her that I could see her for who she was – a very nice, thoughtful, and compassionate person.

Unless we take the time to hear someone, we just might see them for who we think they are, not who they really are.  This is why this resurrection story is one of my favorites – because it reminds me, us, to see people with more than our eyes.

On this day of Resurrection, may you be filled with joy and amazement.  May you hear the angel say, “Go and tell.”  May you not run away in fear but go with purpose and excitement at sharing this good news.  May you see how Christ can change people.  May you learn to see with more than your eyes.

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!                                            

The Lord is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

Today is Easter.  May you not be afraid.                                                                   

Amen.

Sermon; Easter Vigil -- John Chrysostom

Are there any who are devout lovers of God?  Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival!

Are there any who are grateful servants?  Let them rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord!

Are there any wear with fasting?  Let them now receive their wages!

If any have toiled from the first hour, let them receive their due reward; if any have come after the third hour, let him with gratitude join in the Feast!  And he that arrived after the sixth hour, let him not doubt; for he too shall sustain no loss.  And if any delayed until the ninth hour, let him not hesitate; but let him come too.  And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour, let him not be afraid by reason of his delay.  For the Lord is gracious and receives the last, even as the first.  He gives rest to him that come at the eleventh hour, as well as to him that toiled from the first.

To this one He gives, and upon another He bestows.  He accepts the works as He greets the endeavor.  The deed He honors and the intention He commends.  Let us all enter in the joy of the Lord!

First and last alike receive your reward; rich and poor, rejoice together!  Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!  You that have kept the fast, and you that have not, rejoice today for the Table is richly laden!

Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one.  Let no one go away hungry  partake, all, of the cup of faith.  Enjoy all the riches of His goodness!

Let no one grieve at his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed.  Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave.  Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free.  He has destroyed it by enduring it.  He destroyed Hell when He descended into it.  He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh.

Isaiah foretold this when he said, “You, O Hell, have been troubled by encountering Him below.” 

Hell was in an uproar because it is done away with.  It was in an uproar because it is mocked.  It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed.  It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated.  It is in a uproar, for it is now made captive.

Hell took a body, and discovered God.  It took earth, and encountered Heaven.  It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see.  O death, where is thy sting?  O Hell, where is thy victory?

Christ is Risen, and you, O death, are annihilated!  Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!  Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice! 

Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!  Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead; for Christ having risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

To Him be Glory and Power for ever and ever.  Amen!

Sermon; Good Friday, 2024

Today is Act II of the Triduum.  Last night in Act I, we shared a meal, we served each other as we washed feet, then we betrayed and denied Jesus as he was arrested and sentenced to death.  That betrayal and denial is represented by the emptiness of the sanctuary.

Today we recall the events of last night and follow Jesus on that painful walk to the cross.  Tonight we watch as Jesus dies on the cross.  And yet, in the midst of that horrific event, in the midst of the agony and bloody sweat, in the midst of death, we believe that by his holy cross he has redeemed the world.

Good Friday reminds us that we all die – even Jesus.  Sometimes that death is unexpected, like those who die from violence.  Sometimes it’s painful and agonizing, like Jesus or like those who suffer from a long illness.  Sometimes it’s at the hands of a disease or accident that takes a life much too soon.  Sometimes it comes after a life well-lived and it’s just time.  In the words of the funeral anthem, “In the midst of life we are in death.”

Knowing about the inevitability of death, however, doesn’t make it any less painful.  We mourn the loss of a parent or child.  We weep at the death of a friend.  We are angry at a life lost too soon. We can be hurt to the core when a beloved pet dies.  Death has been with us from the beginning of creation, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

It is especially difficult when we realize that we had a hand in that death.  Oh, we didn’t kill Jesus.  We weren’t the ones to give the execution order, that’s on Pilate.  And we weren’t the ones who drove the nails through his hands and feet, that’s on the Roman soldiers.  But we most certainly are the ones who cried out for his crucifixion.  We most certainly are the ones who denied knowing him.  We may not have given the order, and we may not have hammered the nails, but we are complicit.  And when we realize that, it makes today that much more difficult.

But in our sorrow, in our grief, in our self-pity for participating in these acts, we cannot stay there.  We must be able to admit our guilt, and we must be willing to repent and ask for forgiveness.  It’s about now that the Confession we’ve been using in Rite I is particularly relevant:

            We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness.

            We are heartily sorry for these our misdoings.

            The remembrance of them is grievous unto us.

            The burden of them is intolerable.

            Have mercy upon us.

 

We need to be willing to ask for forgiveness and we need to be willing to amend our lives.

Only God knows this for sure, but I think that was the difference between Judas and Peter.  They were both sorry for what they had done, but it was only Peter who made the effort to ask for forgiveness and was willing to change.  Judas remained in his guilt, which led to his suicide.

So on this day when we participate in Christ’s death, when we deny him and call for his execution, let us remember not to stay here.  Let us have the courage to ask for forgiveness.  And let us work to amend our lives so that we may live anew, helping to manifest God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

Sermon; Maundy Thursday 2024

Tonight is Act I of the Triduum – the Great Three Days.  Tonight we share a final meal before we begin our fast.  We shared a meal a few minutes ago, and we will share a final Communion meal in just a bit.  Tonight we also have the opportunity to wash feet.

The Communion meal reminds us that Jesus gave his body and blood for us.  Not only for us, but for all.  As Jesus said, “When I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all people to myself.”  He sacrificed himself so that we might live.  Our participation in Holy Communion is two-fold:  1) it draws us into the Body of Christ sacrificed for us; and 2) it is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

The foot washing reminds us that part of our calling is to serve others.  When we wash the feet of another person, we are humbling ourselves.  We bow down before them and take on a task that not many people would willingly do.  To paraphrase Jesus, we are here not to be served, but to serve.

Like Communion is two-fold, so is the ceremony of foot washing.  On the one hand, we serve as Jesus served.  And on the other, more difficult hand, we allow someone to serve us.  Sometimes this isn’t a big deal – waiters, cleaners, delivery drivers, etc.  But it’s a different feel when it’s a friend or equal who is on their knees washing our feet; see Peter, for instance.  It’s also hard to ask someone to do that for you; but washing feet is a gift, and it takes a level of grace to accept that gift.

So tonight we share two meals, we serve others, and we allow ourselves to be served.  But that’s not where or how Act I of the Triduum ends.  After our second meal, the meal of Holy Communion, we will then watch as the altar is stripped.  This isn’t just some act of remembrance done on the Thursday before Easter.  This is a formal recognition of our betrayal and desertion of Jesus.

Before you say, “I didn’t, or wouldn’t, betray him,” let me remind you that just a few days ago you all shouted, “Crucify him!”  We are all complicit. 

Between the mob mentality of crying out for a man’s death, or the desire to save our own skin by saying, “I don’t know the man!” we are all guilty.  If we are honest, there have been many times when we have wanted Jesus out of our lives.  The reasons don’t matter.  At some point, we have all been Judas, or Peter, or the crowd.  At some point we have all wanted to be done with him.

Tonight Jesus gives us what we want.  Tonight we betray Jesus and allow him to be dragged out of our lives.  Tonight we deny even knowing who Jesus is.  To symbolize not having Jesus in our lives, the altar will be stripped, and anything associate with Jesus will be removed.  The altar will be as bare as our lives.  And when we look for Jesus, he will not be there.

As you watch the altar being stripped and laid bare, as you watch each piece of our holy sanctuary being removed, recall each time you betrayed Jesus, or each time you denied knowing him.  Each betrayal, each denial, is a piece of Jesus being stripped away until there is nothing left.  As Hymn 158 poignantly states:  “I it was denied thee, I crucified thee.”

And when it’s all over, we will have left Jesus abandoned and alone, while we ourselves will leave here lonely and pitied for our selfish and cowardly actions.

May God have mercy upon us.

Sermon; Lent 5B; John 12:20-33

Some Greeks want to see Jesus, so they reach out to Philip.  “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”  Philip then goes to Andrew, and they both go tell Jesus.  And then Jesus begins talking about his impending death.  At first blush, this seems odd at best.  Telling them that, no, he was sorry, he had a full calendar and couldn’t see them would have made sense.  But the response Jesus gives just makes you scratch your head.  This would be like Monica telling me there was someone in the office to see me, and I replied, “It’s time for the snow to fall.  For if one flake falls, no one pays attention; but if many snowflakes fall, they create a new heart and allow people to share resources.”  What?

As I’ve said, and as you and many others have noticed, the Gospel of John is . . . different.  There are different time stamps.  There is a different feel.  There are different focal points.  And it often seems like Jesus is thinking and talking on one level, while everyone else is thinking and talking on another level, as is the case today.  The unnamed Greeks, Philip, and Andrew are talking about seeing Jesus like we would probably talk about seeing a person we’ve wanted to meet for a long time.  Jesus is somewhere else.

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

If you want to see Jesus, look here.

In the Lenten devotional, Living Well Through Lent, there was a section called, “Forgiveness and Letting Go.”  This particular section reminded us that in order to practice forgiveness we need to let go of control, resentment, self-righteousness, and other things that create a barrier to forgiveness.  When we work on forgiveness, we are really working on changing our heart.  Change and growth often (always?) require letting go of what was.  We let go of some things and we take on other things.

The author mentioned an old joke, “I want to grow, but I don’t want to change.”  Another way of saying that is, “I want our church to grow, but I don’t want to give up my pew.”

In the context of forgiveness, we let go.  We let go of control and resentment, we let go of being controlled by the hurt and pain done to us.  We let go of what was and become a new person.

In the context of the Church, we also evaluate, or reevaluate, who we are and what we want to accomplish.  There are some things which we will choose to continue, but there are probably some things of which we need to let go.  We need to face the, “We’ve never done it that way before,” and the, “We’ve always done it that way,” arguments.  Sometimes it’s okay to continue that way, but sometimes not.

All of everything I’ve been speaking of is about change.  We change through our ability to forgive.  We change in order to find new ways to minister.  Our baptism changed us.  Our Lenten disciplines change us.  Christ’s death and resurrection changed him.  It also changed the world.  It should change us.

The Greeks who wanted to see Jesus wanted to see the superstar of their day.  They wanted to see the man who changed water into wine.  They wanted to see the man who raised the dead to life.  They wanted to see the man who made the lame walk and the one who fed the 5000.  But those things are only a part of who Jesus is.  Jesus is also the Son of God, second person of the Trinity, the eternal Word, who sits at the Father’s right hand.  He is God incarnate.  If you want to see Jesus, you not only look for prophet, healer, and miracle worker, but you also need to look for him who died, was buried, rose again, and ascended to heaven.  If you want to see Jesus, find the grain that falls to earth and dies.

The grain falls to earth, dies, is changed, and rises in a new form, bringing forth much fruit.  Likewise, for us to see Jesus completely, we must also allow parts of ourselves to die so that we may be changed into his likeness, from glory to glory.

Those who love their life will lose it.  Maybe this is a recognition that those who love their life in Christ Jesus are willing to lose those parts of their lives that keep them separated from God. 

Sir, we wish to see Jesus.

You wish to see Jesus?  Very well.  What part of your life are you willing to let fall to the earth?  What part of your life are you willing to lose, to let die, and to change, in order to see Jesus?

Amen.