Acts 2:14a, 22-24, 36-39; John 20:19-31

They were just going about their ordinary lives. It was a holiday. They were celebrating the way they always had, and their parents and grandparents before them. But suddenly there was an uproar: strange noises, strange sights. They gathered into a crowd and listened as a man told them:

    “You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth,
    a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and
    signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know--
    this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and
    foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those
    outside the law. But God raised him up, having freed him from death,
    because it was impossible for him to be held in death’s power.”

They listened to him speak, and the world changed, and nothing can ever be the same.

They were not going about their ordinary lives; they were hiding in fear. Their leader had been captured by the government, tried and executed as a common criminal. For all they knew they would be next. For all they knew they would live in fear for days more, or weeks, or years, or forever. But suddenly there was a gasp: their dead leader was alive and with them. They felt his breath, they saw his wounds, and he told them:

    “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you.”

They listened to him speak, and the world changed, and nothing can ever be the same.

We were just going about our ordinary lives, on a most ordinary day. It was April, 1963, nearly 45 years ago. What we didn’t know, was that Martin Luther King, Jr. was in jail writing a letter to the pastors of Birmingham:

    “We know through painful experience that freedom is never
    voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the
    oppressed.… There comes a time when the cup
    of endurance runs over, and [people] are no longer willing to be
    plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can
    understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.…”

Hardly any of us read that letter, or even heard about it, but he wrote it, and the world changed, and nothing can ever be the same.

We were just going about our ordinary lives, during an ordinary political campaign. It was March of 2008.  There were sniping and misquoting, soundbites and arguments, and the hate-filled speech of talk show hosts. But suddenly there was a moment of calm, and Barack Obama overcame his fear, and stood up in Philadelphia to speak.

I think almost everybody in this room has heard at least a portion of that speech. Is this a moment when the world can change, and nothing can ever be the same? We’re about to find out.

For the purposes of this sermon, it doesn’t matter whether Obama becomes president or  Clinton, or McCain. The issue of race is now out in the open for all of us to face, or hide from. Will we bury our heads in the sand like so many ostriches, and pretend that we don’t see anything wrong, or will we decide we want the world to change, we want ourselves to change, and start together to make that change?

We stand today on the brink of a painful opportunity. It is an opportunity because we now have the chance to bring our country much closer to that “more perfect union” dreamed of in our Constitution, to move closer to the ideal America that ought to be. It is painful because we white Christians will be forced to face our own failure to do much at all to bring about that more perfect union, we will be forced to face our own racism, we will be forced to admit that we relaxed too soon. I know that I myself have thought and said that the hard work of defeating racism has already been accomplished, and all that remains is a little mopping up. I was wrong. Deep down I even knew I was wrong, but I justified it by telling myself that I served an almost completely white congregation in an almost completely white community, and what could we do, in Creston, to affect change in the world around us?

Well, now I know I can do more, I can do better, and just because I live and preach in Creston doesn’t relieve me of my Christian duty.

The merchants of hate have attacked Jeremiah Wright, the honorable minister of the flagship congregation of our sister church, the United Church of Christ. I have read the words of John Thomas, General Minister and Presdent of the denomination in praise of Reverend Wright, and of Trinity United Church of Christ. I have viewed a video on the internet of his Regional Minister. She and her husband are white, but they drive an hour one way to attend Trinity UCC, because it’s the best church within reach. I have read the sermons that contain the soundbite words circulated so widely, and seen them in their context. I can imagine myself preaching sermons very much like them. I actually think I have preached sermons that are like them.

Reverend Wright has certainly said things that make me cringe. So what? I can say, just as Barack Obama said, that people in my own family have said things that make me cringe. Some of you have said things that made me cringe. I don’t doubt that I have said things that made YOU cringe. Because I KNOW I have said things that make ME cringe. It is very instructive, but painful, to look back over some of my past sermons. If any of you ever runs for president, you can be very thankful that hardly any of my sermons are on tape!

If someone were following any of us around with a tape recorder, they could embarrass us pretty quickly. There are some very embarrassing things said by Isaiah and Jeremiah and the other Hebrew prophets. Mostly, we preachers try to ignore them. There are some pretty shocking things said by Jesus of Nazareth. Mostly, we Christians try to ignore them.

But as painful as this is for Reverend Wright, and as painful as it is for Barack Obama, and as painful as it is for me, and for you, it is still a great opportunity, maybe the best opportunity we’ll ever have, to do something about race relations in this country.

Will it be easy? Certainly not. Again, it doesn’t matter which of these three people, Clinton, McCain, or Obama, becomes president. Just because Obama overcame his fear once doesn’t mean he can again. The power of fear is strong inside each of them, and inside their supporters. The power of fear is strong inside me.

And there is my clue: I cannot change the world until I change myself. We all know how much Peter had to overcome inside himself before he was able to preach the world’s first Gospel sermon:

    this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and
    foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of
    those outside the law.

And I am sure that even while he was preaching it, he was scared. Those are scary words to say. But frightened or not, he said them anyway, and the world changed.

We cannot change the world until we change ourselves. We will never stop being afraid. With God’s help we can speak up in spite of our fears.   Yes.   We.   Can!

I can imagine the disciples in that upper room, after Jesus has just popped in, thinking to themselves, “Wow, look at the holes in that man! And he is saying, ‘As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you’! If God sent him to have holes hammered through him, does that mean Jesus is sending me to get holes hammered through me?”

Yep! That is the risk of being Christian. This business of being a disciple of Christ, whether big ‘D’ or little ‘d,’ ought to be thought of as very dangerous. As dangerous as being an African-American in white America.

When the merchants of hate want to bring racism into our elections and into our national life, it is the duty of us Christians to say, “Not this time!” And when we get afraid and think we can’t speak up, let’s tell ourselves, “Yes, we can!”

With God’s help the world is changing. And nothing can ever be the same. With God’s help we can change ourselves. And we … will never be the same.

(Comments to Don at donaldhoffman379@centurytel.net.)
Creston Christian Church
Creston, Washington, USA