Selected Passages from the Gospel of John
I thought about what I might have to say today, in the
sorrow and the darkness in which we gather. What word from the Lord would
suffice today?
This hasn’t just been a bad week. It’s been a terrible
one. Horrible. Tragic. Painful. Hurtful. I run out of adjectives to
describe it.
And the tears that began to rain Thursday evening have
continued unabated. We hurt. We hurt for Chris and his family. We hurt for
the Fuentes family. We hurt as a community.
It’s a terrifying thing, as a pastor in moments like
these. Knowing that many are looking, listening for a word that will bring
comfort. A word that will explain. A word from the Lord that will help the
hurt go away.
I am sad to say, I don’t have a word that will console, for
the sadness right now is inconsolable. I’ve searched, but I don’t have a word
right now that will explain, for this tragic thing is unexplainable. I don’t
have a word that will help the hurt go away, for it is simply too soon. And the
wound too deep.
What I do have is an understanding from the Gospel of John,
an understanding of the world and God’s plan for it. And then…some words about
what we do here today. And what we do here this afternoon.
John, more than the other gospel writers has a fix on this
world. What it is about. John is the one who gives us that wonderful memory
verse: (3:16) “For God so loved the world that whosoever believeth in him
should not perish but have everlasting life.” He goes on to say, (17) “Indeed,
God did not send the Son into the world to condemn it, but in order that the
world might be saved through him.”
For John, the world is a place of darkness. Over and over
again, he talks about the people of the world in contrast to the children of the
light, or the children of the kingdom. Jesus is not of this world, John tells
us, but came into the world. The broken world. The world of darkness, that it
might be saved. Redeemed. Healed and made whole.
Listen: (8:23 ff) you are from below, I am from above; you
are of this world, I am not of this world. I told you that you would die in
your sins, for you will die in your sins unless you believe that I am he.”
(And 12:44) Whoever believes in me believes not in me but
in him who sent me. And whoever sees me sees him who sent me. I have come into
the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.
Do you hear it?
This is the world in which we love. A world filled with
darkness, despair, sin, brokenness, suffering, hurt and even death. And that
means such a world is bound to be filled with terrible things. Things like
Tsunamis. Violence. Terror. And…such a world will be a stage for tragic
things which have no other explanation except to say, they are a part of the
brokenness of this world.
Some will sometimes thoughtlessly say that God is the one
who causes such things to occur--that God “took” Ashley, that God has a reason
for such a terrible thing to occur. I don’t believe that is true. It is clear
in the Gospels that death is an enemy—that suffering is an enemy—that brokenness
is an enemy—that pain is an enemy. And that these things are NOT of God. They
are the very things of this world against which the battle has begun in Jesus’
descent from heaven into the world below.
So if terrible tragic things happen in this world, and God
has yet to fully redeem this world, where does that leave us? On the Saturday
before Easter, I spoke with the children and their families who gathered here
for the Egg Hunt. Ashley, her sisters and her daddy were all here that day.
And I showed them a clip from a movie all the children had previously seen and
knew by heart: Finding Nemo.
I showed them the scary part of the movie when NEMO is
captured and his daddy has that frightening moment when he is powerless to save
his son from tragedy. Swimming frantically, NEMO’s daddy asks if anyone had
seen the boat that took off with his son. Here, there, everywhere he darts
asking over and over, “did you see a white boat?” In his haste, he swims into a
rock and floats lifeless to the bottom of the sea.
That’s where I stopped the movie. The scariest part. And
I asked the children a simple question. I asked them if they knew how the story
ends. A hundred little hands shot into the air. Yes! They knew! This was not
the end of the story. It was just the scary part. But it definitely was not
the end!
The end of this story we are all living this week we trust
in faith is a much better ending. But to get to the ending, we have to go
through the scary part.
That’s where we are. That’s where we live. In the scary
part. In a world where the scary part sometimes comes too close, sometimes
pulling us and those we love into it.
And when we find ourselves in the scary part, it’s
important to do what we are doing here, now this morning. Gathering
together—for together there will be others to remind us. Others to help us find
hope when we cannot. Others to help us pray when we cannot. Others to help us
remember that the scary part is not the end of the story. This is the
redemptive work of God, you see.
If one theme of John’s Gospel is the brokenness and
darkness of this world, then the other arching message of John is this: God is
love. God sends Jesus in love. And God asks that we love as God loves.
For the work of love is redemptive, and is the only hope we
have in a dark, broken and destructive world.
This is how love redeems a broken world: A tragic accident
happens no one can explain. And there is pain beyond comprehension. There is
suffering. There is anger. There is guilt. There is despair.
And in response to all of this hurt and pain, there is. .
.kindness. Compassion. Arms reaching out to touch and hold the pain. Others
come to help bear the unbearable. Others with tender words to light candles in
the darkness that surrounds such pain. There comes gifts and hugs and smiles
and tears that help soften the blow. All of this being the response of God’s
love to the bitterness the world has to offer.
And bit by bit, the darkness is beaten back. Bit by bit,
the dawn begins to break. Bit by bit, the heavy weight begins to lift. Bit by
bit the sadness begins to abate.
And hope returns. We find faith. And we begin to
believe…death is not the end. Death does not win! Darkness does not last!
Suffering will not consume! Brokenness does, in fact, heal.
That is what we do, here, in the scary part. We draw
together in this community of faith. We come together in this body of
believers. Together in the family of Christ. And we declare that we are
children of the light and not darkness. That we are children of the kingdom and
not the world! That we will not let the evil and the brokenness and the death
of this world lay claim to us or to those we love!
I hope you will join us here this afternoon as we gather
again for little Ashley’s funeral. And as we do, it will be our testimony, our
bold testimony, that despite the pain, despite the hurt, despite the tragedy
that has come to our community, to our church, to this family, we will trust in
the One who came to bring light into a darkened world.
Let us pray:
