The New Normal

Text:  1 Peter 1:3-9

Theme:  "The New Normal"

2nd Sunday of Easter

April 27, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

³ Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴ and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, ⁵ who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. ⁶ In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷ These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. ⁸ Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, ⁹ for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

People in my line of work use tools -- just like folks in just about any line of work.  My tools are words.  One word I've been kicking around quite a bit lately and having some fun with is the word NORMAL Consider a few sentences that use the word normal:

There really is no such thing as normal.

Normal reactions to this medicine include nausea and headache.

Your behavior is not normal.

Sometimes I pretend to be normal, but it gets boring; so I go back to being me.

The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well.

I grew up in Normal, Illinois.

I tried being normal once -- worst two minutes of my life.

Remember, as far as anyone knows we are a nice, normal family.

Personal experience -- along with, hopefully, a bit of mature wisdom -- leads me to the conclusion that NORMAL, for all intents and purposes,  is a setting on your washer or dryer.  When you get right down to it, is there really such a thing as normal anymore?  I'm beginning to wonder.

Pull out your handy-dandy dictionary and you'll learn that normal has to do with conforming to an accepted standard.  The question then becomes:  "What is the standard?" and "Who sets the standard?" 

A few years back, I joined the Rotary Club.  We're the group that puts out the flags on federal holidays.  When I was initiated, they gave me a red badge with my name on it.  I noticed that everyone else had blue badges.  I asked why I didn't get a blue badge. (I had paid my dues, after all.) I was told that I could after I had given a classification talk, attended a board meeting, and verified that I visited another club.  After that, I would get my blue badge and be a NORMAL Rotarian.

Part of that rubbed me the wrong way.  It could be that I'm a bit of a non-conformist.  I have a hard enough time conforming to the various and sundry standards I set for myself.  If somebody else imposes standards on me, I don't like that.  And I'm not alone.  Therefore, I'm not normal.  There is something refreshing, I admit, to being abnormal -- or being a non-conformist, if you will.  It feels like freedom.

Into this conversation about being normal or not comes this reading from Saint Peter.  Peter, you will recall, was a disciple of Jesus -- a Christ-follower.  Our friends in the Roman Catholic tradition consider him to be the first pope.

Peter was a fisherman by trade.  He comes off the pages of Scripture as the classic, "Type A" personality. If Jesus walks on the water, then, by golly, he's going to do it too.   If Jesus is asking about what people are saying about Him, it's  going to be Peter who says  "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."    When Jesus talks about being executed on a cross, it's Peter who wants nothing of it.  And Jesus says to him:  "Get thee behind me, Satan."  When the pressure is mounting, it's Peter who cries out to Jesus:  "I will follow you to prison and to death!"  Jesus replies:  "Before the cock crows, you will deny me three times."   When the cock does crow, Peter realizes what happened and he went out and wept bitterly. 

Being out-going and gregarious was the "normal" for Peter.  Sometimes he's get it right.  Other times he'd get it wrong.  But that was just Peter; it was normal for him.

Like many of his colleagues, Peter was afraid the those first few days after the first Easter.  If the authorities could manage to kill Jesus, then could easily target his followers for the same fate.  So the disciples were hiding out behind locked doors.  It was an early version of what the CIA calls a "safe house."  Fear was the new normal.

Fear is the new normal -- for folks in the Ukraine. Fear is the new normal -- for folks in Syria and Egypt.  Fear is the new normal -- for the shrinking middle class.  Fear is the new normal -- as students go to school wondering who is packing a gun.  Fear is the new normal -- for those who face radiation and chemo. 

But Peter didn't have to stay in that safe house for long -- and neither do you and neither do I. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!" says St. Peter.   "In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade."

Here come the gifts of the glorious victory of Easter.  The coordinates are set.  The Holy Spirit pulls the trigger.  Fear is decimated, and we are set free from the "safe house".  We are born anew into a living hope. Living hope is hope we truly can live in.  Living hope is what we embody.  Living hope is what we, the members and friends of FPC, can offer humbly and energetically to all within our view.

Something happens to us:  we are born anew.  And something is given to us:  an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade."   Speaking of inheritance, here are a couple of stories that point out what this inheritance is and what it is not.

In the city of Boston, Massachusetts, there is a Holocaust Monument.  Inside visitors will find a sculpture hat bears this inscription from a holocaust survivor: 

Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present that night to me on a leaf.  Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry and you give it to a friend.

Ilse died in that camp the next day.

Then there's another story which took place years later.  You may remember from news reports a very wealthy lady by the name of Leona Helmsley.  When she died, she left a sizeable inheritance  (twelve million dollars, to be exact) --to her dog.  There's no word to date on how the pooch has spent the money.

Obviously, the story of Isle more closely resembles the great Easter inheritance we enjoy.  But even raspberries will decay; they lack permanence.  But this Easter inheritance?  It will never "spoil, or perish or fade," says St. Peter.

Yes, there will be trials; yes, there will be suffering; yes, there will be grief.  St. Peter, and the Bible along with him, make no bones about that.  To  be sure, those trials, pains, and sorrows will test and try our faith, but they are the old normal. The new normal is the new birth and the everlasting inheritance that trumps it all.

No, we don't see Jesus -- but we love Him; we believe in Him.  The joy, says our text, is "inexpressible" and "glorious".  Our language falls short; there really aren't words sufficient enough to describe the joy.  "Joy," said  C.S. Lewis, that great master of the language, "is the serious business of heaven."

What is chief end of man?  Our catechism answers as follows:  (the chief end) "is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever."  Here is the new -- and ultimate! -- normal:  joy!

I hope people will always say of us:  "They enjoy God!"  Indeed, I hope it can be a tagline for our church:  "We enjoy God!"

Enjoy God!  It's not as abnormal as it sounds, for Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed.  Alleluia!  Amen.

They Got the Message!

Text:  Matthew 28:1-10

Theme:  "They Got the Message"

The Resurrection of the Lord/Easter Sunday

April 20, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

² There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. ³ His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. ⁴ The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

⁵ The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. ⁶ He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. ⁷ Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

⁸ So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. ⁹ Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. ¹⁰ Then Jesus said to them,“Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Well, of course they went to the tomb!  What else were they going to do?  You just can't sit there; the grief will crush you.  Mary Magdalene and that other Mary were holding on to the last shred of humanity they had.  It has been said one of the marks of humanity and, indeed, that of civilization, is the respects we pay to those who have died.  Hats off to the ladies; they went to pay their respects.

The Sabbath was over, and it was just another Sunday morning like so many others they experienced before they met the man whose tomb they were about to visit.   Soon, it would be back to the same old hum-drum, the same ole hub-bub and rub-a-dub-dub that they were accustomed to.  We call it the "daily grind" -- et cetera and so forth.  The last few years had really been something.  Jesus made quite the splash, said a bunch of nice things, healed many people.  He's just the kind of guy you'd feel safe to pin your hopes on -- like so many others had done.  But He goes off and gets pinned to a cross -- and their hopes and those of many others are crucified with Him.  Hope, as it were, moves into the past tense-- as those two disciples said the first Easter evening on the Emmaus road: "We had hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel"; as John Greenleaf Whittier, the poet, said so well:  "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'" 

It might have been really something, but THEY KILLED THE MAN. It might have been a new way of life; it might have been a future filled with hope, but THEY KILLED THE MAN. They were all in, in for good, in for the long haul,  but THEY KILLED THE MAN.  They were ready to live, really live, but all that had ended in yet another trip to pay respects, another journey to the grave.  Why?  Because they KILLED THE MAN.  So sad.  Oh, the thought of what might have been.  Their hopes were dashed.  Like that Annie Lennox song, they must have felt like they were "walkin' on broken glass."

Are there any seismologists in the house this morning?  Did you bring a Richter Scale?  Matthew reports:  Kai idou seismos egeneto megas!  Literally translated, it goes like this:  "And behold, a seismic event happened -- a big one." For you linguistic purists, the NIV translates it as a "violent earthquake."  Either rendering is just fine with me.  Then something happens amid all  this seismology.  An angel -- the word angel means "messenger", by the way -- comes down from heaven, goes to the tomb, rolls back the stone, and then the aforementioned angel sits down on it. I just love that image, that visual!   Did the angel cross his/her/it's legs?  We do not know.  Did the angel twiddle his/her/it's thumbs?  We don't know.  Almost as an aside, Matthew reports that the angelic clothes were "white as snow."

Oh, I almost forgot.  How about the guards?  They were the representatives of the great and mighty Roman government. They were the servants of empire!  They had their armor; they had their swords; they had their orders to make sure no grave robbers would show up to launch another ridiculous religious myth.  They were ready; they were TRAINED to play the game of thrones if it came to that.

What became of these grand and glorious representatives of the state?  What happened to these armed guards?  They were so afraid of that white-robed angel that they "shook and became like dead men," says our text.  Where's the courage?  Where's the valor now?  Their behavior was close to treasonous!   Meanwhile, the angel just sat there on the stone -- possibly with his/her/it's legs crossed and/or twiddling his/her/it's thumbs, and seemingly amused at the fear which caused those soldiers to fake their own deaths.

Jesus didn't fake His death.  The women knew it.  The angel knew it, and, more than that, the aforementioned angel had a message for the ladies:  "Do not be afraid."  ("You don't have to put on an act like these men.") "I KNOW that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here, he has risen, just as He said."  Then, beckoningly, the angel continues:  "Come and see where He lay." 

Every Easter rolls around, and I ask myself:  did the angel roll away the stone to let Jesus out?  Every Easter rolls around, and I get the same answer:  the angel rolled away the stone not to let Jesus out.  After all, He rose from the grave by the glory of His Father and not because a big rock get relocated.  No, that stone was rolled away so that we could look in, so that we -- like the Marys -- would get the message:  death does not have the last word.

There's a little bit more to the message; it's a word of instruction:  "Go quickly and tell His disciples:  'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee.  There you will see him." 

The soldiers had their orders, and they end up so afraid that they fake their own deaths.  The angel had orders too, but the angel delivered. 

The women hurry away from the empty tomb, for they had the message and the instructions were to share it.  Maybe it's high time the holy catholic church run away from the empty tomb as well.  Maybe it's time to get the message straight (about Christianity) and to get it out.  Instead of standing at the tomb; instead of standing on our Bibles; instead of standing on our piety, isn't it high time to get out there, share the Gospel as the good news it really is, and then live it with love and joy?

 It says the women were "afraid yet filled with joy."  I wonder which emotion won out.  Which emotion carried the most weight?  Was there more fear and less joy? Or was there more joy and less fear?  It doesn't happen very often, and it's pure craziness when you have both of those emotions at once.  Think of the fear and joy there is when you're about to buy a new house.  Think of the fear and joy there is when a young couple finds out they're about to become parents for the first time.  What a mixture of emotion.  That's what the ladies felt when they hurried away with their instructions.

Then all of that was interrupted.  They're going ninety-to-nothing and emotionally overwrought and all of that, and what happens?  They're interrupted.  They hear a voice:  "Greetings!"  It says that they "suddenly met Jesus."

"They came to Him, clasped His feet and worshipped Him."  They got the message, and they didn't miss the opportunity of a lifetime.  Today, we have that opportunity too.  God help us not to miss it.  When we get the message, we welcome Him and worship Him.  You're here.  I'm here.  The Spirit of the risen Jesus is here.  And that means that hope is NEVER in the past tense.

Finally, Jesus says to the Marys:  "Do not be afraid."  Jesus tipped the emotional scales!  They didn't head out with joy and fear.  It was just joy, for Jesus bid them not to be afraid.   Ditch the fear; keep the joy!   The instructions, however, stayed the same:  "Go and tell!"  And here we are over two thousand years later.  Our very presence proclaims that they got the message.  Now, it's our turn.  We can be Roman guard style Christians who, truth be told, are paralyzed with fear and end up faking their own death.  Or we can be Mary and Mary Christians who go and tell because the Spirit of the risen Christ has met them in their hearts and lives TODAY!

My wife shared with me a beautiful prayer by Brian McClaren that was written for pastors on Easter.  The last part of that prayer, though, is good for all of us and is a fitting conclusion.  Here's how it reads:

 

I pray they all will (have) the simple joy
Of women and men standing in the presence of women and men,
Daring to proclaim and echo the good news;
Risen indeed! Alleluia!
For death is not the last word.
Violence is not the last word.
Hate is not the last word.
Money is not the last word.
Intimidation is not the last word.
Political power is not the last word.
Condemnation is not the last word.
Betrayal and failure are not the last word.
No, each of them are left like rags in a tomb,
And from that tomb,
Arises Christ,
Alive.

And all God's people said:  Amen.

 

Gratitude from The Beginning to The End!

Text:  Psalm 118:1-2, 29-29

Theme:  "Gratitude from the Beginning to the End"

Palm Sunday

April 13, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
    his love endures forever.

² Let Israel say:
    “His love endures forever.”

Open for me the gates of the righteous;
    I will enter and give thanks to the Lord.
²⁰ This is the gate of the Lord
    through which the righteous may enter.
²¹ I will give you thanks, for you answered me;
    you have become my salvation.

²² The stone the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone;
²³ the Lord has done this,
    and it is marvelous in our eyes.
²⁴ The Lord has done it this very day;
    let us rejoice today and be glad.

²⁵ Lord, save us!
    Lord, grant us success!

²⁶ Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
    From the house of the Lord we bless you.^[b]
27 The Lord is God,
    and he has made his light shine on us.
With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession
    up^[c] to the horns of the altar.

²⁸ You are my God, and I will praise you;
    you are my God, and I will exalt you.

²⁹ Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
    his love endures forever.

Holy Week begins with a parade and ends in a grave.  Weird, isn't it?  Holy Week begins with the sounds of the crowd shouting their "Hosanna"s to Jesus.  Holy Week ends with a bloodthirsty "Crucify Him".  As the song says:

Sometimes they strew His way, and His sweet praises sing;

Resounding all the day Hosannas to their King.

Then "Crucify!" is all their breath,

And for His death they thirst and cry.

What a difference one week can make.  On Sunday, it's "Yip,Yip, Yahoo and Hip Hip Hooray" for Jesus.  On Friday, just days later, it's "Away with Him!  Crucify Him!"  It's the week that changed the world forever.  The question is:  has it/will it change us?  "Were you there when the crucified the Lord?  Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble."

Holy Week begins with "Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord."  It ends with the sound of a large stone being rolled into place in front of a borrowed grave.   There Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea laid down the lifeless corpse of Jesus -- and the government put a seal on the sepulcher for good measure. They even stationed guards there.

Psalm 118 -- or at least selected verses of Psalm 118 -- is our guide for meditation and prayer today.  It begins and ends with gratitude.  Gratitude is its structure; gratitude is its punctuation; gratitude is its animation.  Why is there such a call to be grateful?  That's tough stuff for a culture that has gone all in for cynicism and pessimism.   What is the cause, the impetus, for such gratitude?  Sometimes we hear people say, ever-so-nicely and with a smile:  "Thank you so much!"  Do they really mean it and are they truly grateful, or is it just a polite way to end a conversation?

Looking around, one might say that reasons for gratitude are too few and too far between. They've lost what they thought were the pings coming from the black box on the vanished Malaysian airliner; the batteries are said to last only about a month, so the media reports.  The Nasdaq index has nose-dived in our schizophrenic economy; biotech stocks have been hit the worst. You blue-chippers can breathe easy -- at least for a little while.  The takeaway, overall, is that your savings, your retirement, is on shakier ground, on losing ground.  They tell you that it will take seven days to fix your hail-damaged car only to call back and say it will be more like three weeks.  Our church is covered, but there is that little item called the "deductible".   But hey, at least Longhorn -- and Presbyterian! -- Jordan Spieth, who is too young to drink alcohol legally, may just win the Masters' green jacked this afternoon.   Here you can plug in your own examples of things that make you feel less than grateful or only a tiny bit grateful.   It takes a special kind of person that can sing and pray Psalm 118 when they just learned of a cancer diagnosis, or the doctor has written a prescription for hospice. 

Our feelings, however, no matter how intense they may be, are not the cause for gratitude.  No, the cause, or the grounding, for gratitude -- if the Word of God has anything to say --  is simply this:  because "the Lord  is good", declares the psalmist.  In the same breath, we are told that God's "mercy endures forever." That's it, period.  End the discussion. 

Some of you might recall the table prayer of your childhood.  After the meal, you returned thanks and said:  "O, give thanks to the Lord; for He is good; for His mercy endureth forever.  Amen."  This is where it comes from:  Psalm 118.  Hesed -- that's the original Hebrew for "mercy", or "loving-kindness" -- is the great Gospel word of the Old Testament.  There it is -- salted and peppered all over Psalm 118.

Along with gratitude for God's hesed from beginning to end, Psalm 118 has Holy Week written all over it.  The references to Palm Sunday all but jump off the page.  "With branches in hand,  join in the festal procession," says verse 27.  "Lord, save us", or "Hosanna", is there the verse 25.  I read too much.  Based on that, I can tell you that we have so many of these modern historians and pseudo/crypto/neo-theologians who, with an air of sophistication, question the truthfulness, the veracity, and the historical accuracy of the Bible's narrative.  But rarely do they notice how interconnected the Scriptures are. The Bible does a fine job interpreting itself!

That said, Psalm 118 must have been the air they all breathed on that first Palm Sunday.  There was Jesus, poised and ready for the week to come, at Bethphage.  He had "set His face to go to Jerusalem" (that's Luke 9:51), and now he was about to enter.   Seated onboard a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, the Lord, with crowds all-around, makes His way down the Mount of Olives, through the Kidron Valley, unto the gates of the holy city.  "Open for me the gates of the righteous," says the psalmist, in verse 2. 

"This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."  That's Psalm 118 as well -- and it's another snippet of verse that has been shouted down through the centuries.  But saying that is one thing; saying it and really meaning it is another.  One day a minister began the service with:  "This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."  He then enjoined the worshippers to turn to one another and give to each other what he called "a happy hug in the name of Jesus."  What the minister didn't know is that the elderly lady, the visitor who had sat down quietly in the back pew, had just learned, the week prior, that her husband of over fifty years, had only six months or less to live. Do you think she was in the mood for rejoicing, gladness, and choreographed hugging?  Maybe she came to give God a good piece of her mind.

No.  So we have to do some pushback on this psalm; we need to press it further. We have to squeeze it; we need to ring it out. Like Jacob of old wrestling with the angel, we need to grapple with the text until it blesses us.

Verse 22 is a great place to grab on.  "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes."

Jesus Christ is that stone.  He is our "Ebeneezer", our "rock of help".  "On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand." 

His oath, His covenant, and blood support me in the whelming flood;

When ev-'ry earthly prop gives way, He then is all my Hope and Stay.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

The builders rejected that rock. The religious leaders of His own people condemned Him to death.  Pilate, the representative of the Roman government, washed his hands and sealed his fate.  In other words, church and state had Jesus executed.  But all of them forgot something;  they forgot someone.  They could reject Jesus and have Him executed a thousand times, but there was someone who had yet to weigh in.  And weigh in He did.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here; He is risen -- even as He said."  He was raised from the grave "by the glory of His Father" (that's Romans 6).  In other words, "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes."

Now there's something the elderly lady in the back pew can grab onto and celebrate -- "that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

"O, give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good.  His mercy endureth forever."

Amen.

"Immortal, Invisible God -- Only Wise"? Yes. Yet today, however, we will leave it at FRIEND.

Text:  John 11:1-45

Theme:  "When Something Happens to A Friend"

5th Sunday in Lent

April 6, 2014

FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

+In the Name of Jesus+

This story of the raising of Lazarus has me at a loss.  It is so rich in meaning and powerful in content that I really don't know where to begin.   All week long, this account has been on the back of my mind; it has haunted me -- even through the golf ball, tennis ball-sized hail that pummeled our building.  You can study the words of John eleven in their original Greek.  One can read commentaries galore on the chapter.  You can examine  its narrative backwards and forwards and sideways.  Interpretively speaking, you can spar with the text, wrestle with text, squeeze the text, poke and prod the text, try to drain the text dry. But the more you work on it, the more you feel  as though you're  imposing on it. What does one do when confronted with a masterpiece of staggering proportions?  You just take it in and let it move you -- perhaps even change you -- as it will.

As I marveled at John chapter eleven this time around, one topic did emerge -- and I kept coming back to it.  It's friendship.  Friendship, in the classical Greek sense, is a form of love.  You know, the New Testament has three different Greek words for love.  First, there's agape -- which means the love of God, the love that can only come from God, the love that has its origin in God.  Second, there's eros -- which means physical, or sexual, love.  And third, there is phileo -- which means brotherly love or friendship.  There's lots of phileo, brotherly love, friendship in John chapter eleven. 

In the Old Testament book of Proverbs, there is a snippet of wisdom that reads like this:    "A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother."  Think of what ties people together.  It may be blood.  It could be an ethnic background.  It might be that we have similar viewpoints.  We like the same kind of music, support the same kinds of causes, et cetera. 

But friendship?  That's different. There is something about a genuine friendship that is almost impossible to explain.  The bond of a true friendship borders on the mystical. Certainly, there were curiosity-seekers who followed Jesus around during his three year public ministry.  Others became followers and believers.  Then there were the twelve disciples that were chosen by Jesus -- even though one would betray him. But what emerges from the interaction of Jesus with Mary, Martha, and their brother, Lazarus, is that these three siblings were His friends.  Let that sink in for just a moment:  they were His friends, and He was their friend.  Like the theme song from the sitcom "Friends" says:  "I'll be there for you 'cuz you're there for me too!" 

They had a little home less than two miles away from Jerusalem, and when Jesus was in town He would go hang out with his friends.  He was there for them, and they were there for Him.  Mary comes off as the quiet, contemplative one in the trio.  She sat at Jesus' feet and listened and anointed his feet with perfume.  Martha seems to be the more driven individual -- the type A personality, if you will.  Then there is Lazarus.  We know nothing about the mother and father of these three siblings. All we know is that they're sisters and brother and brother and sisters.  And Jesus was their friend, and they were friends of Jesus.

I hope you won't mind if I share something of a personal testimony.  My name is Paul, and I am an alcoholic.  For over twelve years, I have not felt the need to take a drink of alcohol.  For that, I am truly grateful -- and so are a lot of other people!  Along the road of recovery, I learned a few things.  When my disease was active, God had become, in my mind, like some kind of heavenly version of a parent that I could never please enough.  All God had become was someone, something that I had to make happy.  And I resented that; I got sick and tired of that; I hated that. 

I have a sponsor in the program who is also a good friend.  He asked me:  "How are those ideas about God working for you?"  If this person hadn't become a friend, I would have told him that he could stuff his question where the sun don't shine!  But he had won me over simply because he took the time to share his experience, his strength, and his hope with me.  The answer was obvious:  no, the ideas in my head about God were not working.    I can tell you this, though.  When I came to believe that God, in Jesus Christ, was my friend -- that "friend who sticketh closer than a brother",  that was when it was like the gates of heaven had re-opened for me.  Early in recovery, I remember being home one night.  I picked up the old hymnal from my childhood.  It had an evening hymn in it called "Abide with Me".  One of its verses took on new meaning for me; it said exactly what was going on in my heart:

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings,

But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings;

Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea.

Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me.

Tears for all woes?  Indeed.  The shortest verse in the Bible is in John chapter eleven:  "Jesus wept."  Why?  His friend died. 

Jesus had made it back to Bethany.  When Martha -- that dear friend, that outspoken friend -- saw Him, she said:  "Lord, if you would have been here, my brother would not have died.  But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask."      Jesus said:  "Your brother will rise again."  Martha said:  "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day."  Jesus replied:  "I am the resurrection and the life.  The one who believe in me will live even though he dies.  And the one who lives and believes in me will never die."

Moments later, sister Mary says the same:  "If you would have been here, he would not have died."  Genuine friendship is like that:  what binds you together is stronger than the painful truths of life; in short, you tell it like it is to each other. 

In the end, Jesus told it like it is to the grave itself.  He shouted:  "Lazarus, come out."  Out came Lazarus covered in grave clothes.  "Take off the grave clothes and let him go," says Jesus.

Only days later, they would wrap Jesus Himself in grave clothes and place his body in a borrowed tomb.  There was weeping and mourning then, for Jesus had died.  The grief went on; friends went to the tomb.  But someone rolled the stone away.  And then a friendly angel told it like it is:  "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; He is risen -- even as He said." 

So think of it:  the One who holds the power of life and death in His hands, the One who is the resurrection and the life, is your friend.  Again, He is your friend. 

Amen.