John 20: 19-23 (links validated 4/25/24a)

A couple years ago, a student came into a discussion group on faith and spirituality, a weekly event that was sponsored by a professor from the Philosophy and Religion department. He came into the first meeting with a t-shirt with the words “God is dead” on it. Having majored in Philosophy in college, I knew this quote was from Friedrich Nietzsche—whose philosophical works have had a profound impact in the last two centuries. The man’s philosophy is a bit more complex than those three words—but, I doubted this student was looking to have a discussion on that. The kid wearing it was looking for a reaction from people in the room and got it from many of them. It was truly a Holy Spirit moment for me that I just was smiling to myself and kept quiet at the entire drama that was playing out. After the fireworks had ended at the end of the meeting, I said to him “I admire you’re wearing that here.” He smirked and said “oh yeah?” And when I said “yeah, that’s Nietzsche, right?” he gave a shrug, a little surprised I knew that and wasn’t attacking him. I told him I appreciated his boldness, that he actually had a position he was passionate about, enough to get a t-shirt and wear it. Honestly, he was easier to talk to than the majority of kids who showed up—kids who were Catholic, but were clearly not practicing, who felt guilty in front of a priest, but not enough to do anything about it. This student had strong feelings and opinions, and kept coming every week the rest of the semester, and over the weeks and months, he warmed up. We had real, authentic conversations there, and whenever we’d bump into each other on campus. At one point, a couple months later, during one of these weekly meetings on faith and spirituality, the topic for the week was on human suffering, he shared that his mother was sick with cancer. I saw him after and asked if there was anything I could do, if his mom would want a visit. (I was never quite sure if they had been Catholic at some point or what the situation was at home, but I explained sometimes when people are sick, whether they are Catholic or not, they like to talk to a priest.) He started to get choked up and shook his head “no,” just mouthing “thank you,” and I said I was going to pray for her and for him. He seemed surprised by that, and I just said, “I know you think God is dead… I know He’s not… that’s why I’m praying for you and your mom.” We never had a debate about doctrine. We just had conversations—and a little bit of trust, a little bit of friendship, and I pray that a little bit of the Holy Spirit passed between us...

We have a congregant who shapes strong ministries. She stays up late planning for our sister church in Cuba and wakes up early to bake bread to share with strangers. Once, when I detected the resonance of grief from her and inquired, she shared the story of visiting her father as he lay dying. She described the process she invented to find a way to survive his leaving. Day after day, in the same hospital parking space, she sat in her car with her hands on the steering wheel. Each time she inhaled she said “God’s peace”; each time she exhaled, “God’s presence.” She said she waited there until “something in me changed.” She was receiving the presence of the Holy Spirit to guard her breaking heart and to guide her practice of faith.

("Have you ever awakened to a day that dawned like any other day, only to find it turning into a totally different day from any other day you have ever experienced?...")

In the classic 1939 film, The Wizard of Oz, a powerful wind, God’s ruah if you will – in the form of a tornado – comes into Dorothy Gale’s drab, dull life and it lifts her out of her place, spins her around, disorients her and drops her smack in the middle of a new world, where she has a very important mission to accomplish. In this new world, nothing is the same as it had been before the wind came. There is beauty and wonder the likes of which Dorothy has never seen before, but there is also danger. As Dorothy is faced with these new dangers, she also meets others who have exactly the gifts she needs – wisdom, compassion and courage. And in the end, Dorothy and her new friends accomplish an incredibly unlikely mission...

"Peace be with you" - which in this very short passage of only 4 verses, he repeats... "Peace be with you" before he bestows the Holy Spirit on them. Those words seemed jarring in light of, yet another terrorist attack which occurred less than 24 hours earlier in London. To be honest, as soon as I started to see tweets with the headlines of this atrocity last night - I tuned out. I could feel myself getting tense, and upset, and fearful... I could sense my own anger just seeing the British flag circulating on social media as people in their own way want to express their connection to people who are suffering. Anger that it seems every time we see a flag it means there’s another horrific atrocity that has taken place.

("C.S. Lewis was obviously taken with John 20's presentation of Jesus' breathing the Holy Spirit onto his disciples because he wove just that image into the final scene of his first Narnia chronicle The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe....")

("I am most certain that if you, like me as a child, one of your favorite cartoon series was Popeye the Sailorman. As you recall, Popeye was regularly brutalized by Brutus. Brutus would often seek to wreak havoc in the life of Popeye in all kind of ways. He would try to steal Olive Oyl...")

("When someone loves us, mentors us, walks with us through life, the thought of their leaving us–the thought of them not being with us any more–is heartbreaking. So we can understand that during the Last Supper, Jesus' disciples are distraught. Jesus is saying that he must leave them, and they do not want to lose their dear friend and mentor; they do not want to be without the one who called them; the one who loves them; the one they love. They long for his presence; they fear his absence...")

The family was tired and sleepy as the car drove through the night. Suddenly there was a sputter, and the car came to a stop. The driver groaned, realizing he had run out of gas. The family waited on the lonely stretch of road. A car stopped and a man came over to the anxious family. He was dirty and disheveled and the car he drove looked like it had come from a junkyard. Much to the family's surprise the man produced a can of gasoline and refused any money for it. As he drove off into the dark the mother said, "He was a real character." From the backseat the little girl remarked, "I think he was Jesus."...

C.S. Lewis was obviously taken with John 20’s presentation of Jesus’ breathing the Holy Spirit onto his disciples because he wove just that image into the final scene of his first Narnia chronicle, “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.” If you have seen the movie of this made a few years back, then you recall this scene when Aslan, after returning from the dead, goes around and breathes on all the creatures that had been turned to stone by the White Witch, bringing them back to life. It’s a moving image but those of us who have focused more on the film of late may forget the lyric description of this act of new creation that Lewis wrote in the book. “I expect you’ve seen someone put a lighted match to a bit of newspaper which is propped up in a grate against an unlit fire. And for a second nothing seems to have happened, and then you notice a tiny streak of flame creeping along the edge of the newspaper. It was like that now. For a second after Aslan had breathed upon him, the stone lion looked just the same. Then a tiny streak of gold began to run along his white marble back—then it spread—then the colour seemed to lick all over him as the flame licks all over a bit of paper—then, while his hind-quarters were still obviously stone, the lion shook his mane and all the heavy, stony folds rippled into living hair. Then he opened a great red mouth, warm and living, and gave a prodigious yawn. And now his hind legs had come to life. He lifted one of them and scratched himself. Then, having caught sight of Aslan, he went bounding after him and frisking round him whimpering with delight and jumping up to lick his face.” It’s a text that really does put one in mind to anticipate those great words: “Behold, I make all things new.”

("C.S. Lewis was obviously taken with John 20's presentation of Jesus' breathing the Holy Spirit onto his disciples because he wove just that image into the final scene of his first Narnia chronicle, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Aslan, after returning from the dead, goes around and breathes on all the creatures that had been turned to stone by the White Witch, bringing them back to life...")

("Some years ago there was a television series called Mission Impossible. It centered on an ultra secret government operations unit that was charged with carrying out missions that were seemingly impossible. These operations involved toppling hostile foreign leaders, rescuing hostages, stopping acts of terrorism, etc....")

One of the most fun things to do is see the words for groups of animals. Cattle are, of course, in a herd. Lions, and anyone who has ever seen the movie or play The Lion King knows, are called a pride. A group of flamingoes are called a flamboyant. A group of owls are called a parliament. Actually, owls do a look a little like English politicians... One of my favorites is what we call a group of buzzards. They’re called a committee. Over the years, as a minister, I’ve, on occasion, understood this. Then there is the rhinoceros. Your typical rhino weighs between one to two tons, are between four and five feet tall, and usually ten to twelve feet long. Their forward horn is usually just under two feet long. Rhinos are incredibly fast. They run at the amazing speed of 30 miles per hour. A squirrel, as a point of comparison, runs at 27 miles per hour. The rhino is an incredible combination of speed and power when it runs. There is, however, one thing about rhinos. They have very poor vision and can only see about 30 feet ahead. Thus you have an incredibly large, powerful, fast animal, with a huge horn on its snout, running without having the ability to see very much in front of it. So, now as you’re sitting in drama, wondering what my point is, the point is this. A group of rhinos is called a crash. When you think of a group of blind, two ton beasts running at 30 miles per hour, that sort of brings one word to mind. Crash. In so many ways, the Holy Spirit moves the church to be a lot like the rhino...

("Not too terribly long ago I made my way up to a first church in a rural county seat town in the South to deliver the Sunday morning message. As I drove into town, I nearly ran off the road when I saw a sign just in front of a little brick ranch home that said 'Laotian Buddhist Temple'....")

("Listening is not one of my natural gifts. My 17-year-old son recently said something like this to me - 'Dad, you sure do seem to have picked jobs where you get to do a lot of the talking'....") (You will need free passwords to access this site.)

The evening class had gathered around the large table. Everyone had a cup of coffee or a soft drink. Some of them had a cookie or some form of refreshment. As they began to take their seats the leader called the group to order and offered a prayer for the evening. Then the leader asked everyone a question. Where have you seen the work of God in your life this week? Everyone was still for a moment, and then one of the men cleared his throat. He was a family doctor and he had been quiet most of the evenings. Everyone was a little surprised that he would speak first. He said," I've been a family doctor for a long time now. I've helped people with coughs, infections and such. I have helped bring many of my patients into this world. The other day I was thinking. I have all of this medical knowledge. I help women through their pregnancies. I check on the mother and the unborn child at regular intervals. I can tell if everything is going all right. I can help if there is a problem. I even wait with the mother and father for their child to be born. I take the child and I check them over. I clean out the mouth and the nose. I do everything exactly right. There is one thing I cannot do. I cannot make that baby take its first breath. I might pinch the baby or pop it on its behind to try and shock it a little. No matter what I do I cannot make the baby take the first breath. This week as I delivered a healthy child and that baby took its first breath I realized something. I've always believed in God, but this week God became real. I realized as I held that child that something bigger than me was in control. I realized that baby's first breath and every breath there after was through the grace of God. Breathing, life is a gift. After he spoke the room was silent. Yet, there was something mysterious in the air. The feeling from everyone was that they had unintentionally stumbled into one of the greatest mysteries. The silence was not a pregnant pause as if waiting for someone else in the room to speak. The pause was holy time. The pause was time to ponder the mysteries of God. It was as if everyone expected God would suddenly speak further on the matter...

("Years ago I walked out of our family home to begin life on my own. Minutes before I left my dad blessed me. It was short and simple. I doubt it took 30 seconds. He made me kneel on the stark and faded tiled floor of our simple living room and, placing his hands on my head, blessed me. My father was a fairly articulate man and might have said a lot. He chose not to...")

Scroll down the page for this resource.

Scroll down the page this resource.