Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Unhappy Story

The death of Stephen in Acts 7 is hardly a happy story. Christianity is not always a straight and well-paved road.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the seventh chapter of Acts of the Apostles (Acts 7:55-60), and it is not a happy story. Acts 7 describes the trial and then the execution of Stephen, one of the first deacons of the Christian Church.

While the deacons were selected and assigned to make sure that the members of that Jerusalem Church had enough to eat, it’s very clear that they rapidly had additional duties. Stephen, in particular, was noted for his preaching for declaring the story of Jesus around Jerusalem and saying what it meant for the people, for the faith, for the future.

That got him presented to the temple authorities, arrested, tried.

Most of Acts 7 consists of something we frequently call “The Sermon of Stephen, and it is not a speech designed to make the hearers happy. Stephen accused them and accused their ancestors of resisting the Holy Spirit of God by executing those who had spoken on God’s behalf. Not surprisingly, the judgment went against him. Stephen was dragged out of the city, and they threw rocks at him until he died.

As he lay there — and this is the part of the story that we will be reading on Sunday — as he lay there, he asked Jesus to receive his Spirit, and in a deliberate echo of what Jesus himself had said on the cross, he asked God’s forgiveness on those who were killing him.

The simple truth is that Christianity is not an easy road. It is not a level and graded path for us to follow. It is a winding road. It is a rutted road. It is one in which there are intersections that are not marked, and which way should we go?

Should Stephen have accused his judges in such inflammatory terms? Probably not.

But there was a truth to what he was saying. People in every age, including our own, resist the Holy Spirit of God. People in every age, including our own, set their own interests above those of the people around them. People in every age, including our own, act with cruelty, and with snap judgment, and with a disregard for the truths that they may hear.

Stephen died, yet he died with forgiveness on his lips. Stephen died, and he died with his faith in Jesus.

May we live with forgiveness on our lips. May we live with a sense of Jesus’ constant presence. And when the road does get severely rough, may we find Stephen’s courage and rejoice in Stephen’s faith.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Named and Loved

Jesus compared himself to a shepherd, one whose sheep recognized, and one who knew all the names of the ones he cared for.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the tenth chapter of John’s Gospel (John 10:1-10). This opening section leads toward one of the better known “I am” statements in John’s book, when Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd.”

Leading up to that, Jesus spoke about how sheep recognize their shepherd and how shepherds know the names of their sheep. “I am the good shepherd,” Jesus said.

Names were extraordinarily important in the ancient Middle Eastern world. Moses wanted to know God’s name. Adam gave names to the animals in the Garden of Eden. And Jesus was given a name which means salvation.

Names were important. Names still are important.

Someone who knows you is somebody who will remember your name. Somebody who values you will work to remember your name. Someone who loves you knows your name.

Jesus told those folks 2,000 years ago that he knew their names, that God knew their names. And through John, Jesus still speaks to us 2,000 years later to reassure us that God knows our names. God cares about us. God loves us.

That’s what I am thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Fed by Jesus

One of the first encounters with Jesus after his resurrection took place on a road, where he fed their minds and spirits, and then at a table, where he fed their bodies. Feeding people is at the heart of Christian faith.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about a passage in the twenty-fourth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 24:13-35) that I think at least a little bit about every month in the life cycle of Church of the Holy Cross. It’s the story of Jesus’ encounter with two of his disciples on the day of his resurrection, on Easter.

He met them on a road as they were leaving Jerusalem. They walked with him. They talked with him. He explained things about his death and the reports of his resurrection that nobody at that point much understood. He sat at a table with them. He broke bread and that is when they knew who he was, that is when they recognized him.

I mention this story every time we move into celebration of the Lord’s Supper, as we come to the table of Holy Communion. Because to my mind this reality of knowing Jesus when he feeds us is central, not just to our understanding of the sacrament, but to our understanding of Christianity itself. Christianity is about seeing that people are fed, fed in body, fed in mind as he did along that road, fed in spirit, in ways that are unique to the exercise of religion in general, but also unique of course to the practice of the faith of the followers of Jesus.

We feed people and we are also fed.

Jesus fed them on a hillside miraculously with bread and fish. Jesus fed them by the lakeside with understanding and knowledge. Jesus fed them in the days after his resurrection with a Holy Spirit that has continued to guide us, inspire us, and empower us to this very day.

So come, let us be fed. Come, let us feed others on the spirit of Jesus Christ.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Assumptions

Sometimes people are glad to be wrong about their assumptions. Easter morning was like that.

Here’s a transcript:

Well, now it is Holy Week. And there is a lot to think about.

I could be thinking about the Monday Thursday text, and indeed I will be. I could be thinking about the seven last words of Jesus, which we’ll read on Friday from noon to three, and indeed I will be. At the moment, though, I am thinking about the twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel (John 20:1-18, John’s account of the discovery of the resurrection.

Most of the time we tend to say that we’re talking about the stories of the resurrection, but we’re not. In most of the Gospels, the resurrection occurs outside of anybody else’s sight or awareness. They learn about it when they come in some of the Gospels to an empty tomb, or in John’s case to a tomb where there are a couple of angelic messengers saying that Jesus is not here.

In John’s Gospel, it’s Mary Magdalene who went to the tomb. She found it empty, rushed back to the city, brought Simon Peter and the disciple that Jesus loved. They looked at the empty tomb and went away. Mary then encountered this angelic messenger whose words didn’t seem to make any impression upon her.

She realized that there was somebody else in the garden with her. She assumed it was the gardener and asked him where Jesus was.

It was, of course, Jesus.

When he said her name, “Mary,” she realized who he was and rushed to embrace him.

The discovery of the resurrection.

It strikes me that there are so many assumptions people made on that first Easter Sunday. The first and the easiest and, frankly, the one that makes the most sense, is that everybody assumed that Jesus had died — as he had — but that he continued to be dead as he hadn’t.

That would be the assumption they were most grateful to find was incorrect.

Mary ran back to the city to find Simon Peter and the disciple that Jesus loved, assuming that they could do something to help. As, of course, they could not. Mary assumed that these words she was hearing weren’t meaningful to her, as they were. Jesus [Ed. Correction: Mary] assumed that this other person moving around the garden had to be a worker and she was wrong again.

And as glad to be wrong as ever a person was glad to be wrong.

The story of the discovery of Easter, the learning of the resurrection, the realization of what had happened: doesn’t it say something to us about the assumptions that we make about the world? How likely is it that the things that we firmly believe turn out to be wrong?

Perhaps the world is a more wondrous and miraculous place than we have let ourselves imagine.

Is not the world one in which Jesus of Nazareth lives again?

Happy Easter to you.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Humble Monarch

Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem was his first public act proclaiming he was the Messiah – and he chose the humblest possible way to do it.

Here’s a transcript:

This coming Sunday is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, so I’m thinking about the twenty-first chapter of Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 21:1-11), Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.

In Matthew, this was really Jesus’ first public proclamation that he was the Messiah. He had discussed it with his disciples, others had speculated about it, but here Jesus actually did something that people would recognize as a Messianic claim. Here Jesus did something that people would recognize as the act of a king.

It was still a somewhat peculiar choice. Jesus chose to have his disciples find a donkey, and in Matthew’s account they also brought a colt, so that he came into the city, matching not lots of other Prophetic or Psalmic descriptions of the arrival of a monarch. Instead, he emulated a prophecy of Zechariah. “Your king comes to you, humble and mounted on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

It is possible, even likely, that on the other side of the city another procession similar but much grander was going on. The Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, would have entered Jerusalem at about this time: his annual visit to coincide with the Passover. That would have included trumpets, that would have included marching soldiers, that would have included the governor mounted on a great big horse.

On the other side of the city, Jesus entered to the accompaniment of cries of “Hosanna!” or “Save us!” His humble beast strode over people’s cloaks and branches that they laid in the road. It was a distinct, dramatic, and telling contrast to what would have happened on the other side of the city.

If it’s big and grand and showy we have to ask ourselves: just how Christian is it?

I come out of a tradition which includes significant influence from the Puritan part of the Protestant Reformation. The Puritans, in addition to concerns about clothing and modesty and all the rest of it, were very concerned about humility. Not always, I grant you, once they got into power.

Jesus, even as he made a proclamation of power did so in the humblest way possible. The twenty-first century since Jesus: so far, at least, it is not a humble age. It is not an age that values humility. It is not an age that rewards humility. Pride and hubris get the attention. Pride and hubris get the rewards.

But pride and hubris are not the ways of Jesus. They are not or should not be the ways of Jesus’ followers. Let us come into this Holy Week faithfully following the one upon a colt, the foal of a donkey, humble and coming to us and hearing our cries of “Hosanna,” “Save us,” “Help us.”

This is our prayer, O Jesus.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Never Too Late

Jesus arrived after Lazarus had died. It’s a hard moment – Jesus shared the grief – but it turned out that he was not too late, because he was and is the resurrection and the life.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the eleventh chapter of John’s Gospel (John 11:1-45), the resurrection of Lazarus.

It is a wonderful and uplifting story. It demonstrates that the power of Jesus was not limited to day-to-day life, but extended beyond life and was, in fact, a power over death. It features perhaps the deepest of Jesus’ “I am” statements: “I am the resurrection and the life.” It offers and reassures the promise of eternal life and resurrection for us all. It’s a marvelous story.

It also contains some truly troubling elements. It is this event that persuaded some of the leadership to seek an occasion where they could arrest Jesus and have him executed. That’s a harsh element of the story.

It is also a story that is marked with grief: the grief of Lazarus’ sisters Martha and Mary. Each of them expressed their faith in Jesus, but each of them also say something along the lines of, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Onlookers say the same thing. If Jesus had been there in time — and John made clear Jesus might have been there in time — Lazarus would not have died.

What explanation we’re given, and it’s not much, is that Jesus saw this as an opportunity to demonstrate his power over death, to demonstrate that he had authority even beyond the veil. It’s not a satisfying explanation. I don’t think it even satisfied Jesus, who stood outside the tomb of Lazarus and wept.

What are we to say? I think we are to take our lead from Jesus’ own tears. We are the followers of one, we are the worshipers of a God, who knows our grief, who has shared our sense of loss. We believe in a God, we trust in a God, who knows how we have felt, who has felt what we have felt.

And whatever we might think or feel about the timing of Jesus’ arrival, it has to be said that for Jesus it was not too late. Yes, he might have prevented Lazarus from dying, and yes, there was some grieving that happened, and grief he participated in, but there was no such thing as being too late for Jesus. Illness was no barrier to him, death itself no barrier to him. There is no such thing as too late for Jesus in our lives.

And there is that marvelous “I am” statement. “I am the resurrection and the life.”

We trust in One who is not the agent of death, we trust in One who is not the agent of suffering, we trust in One who is the agent of life and renewed life.

“I am the resurrection and the life.” And this is the one in whom we trust. This is the one we follow.

That’s what I am thinking. I’m curious to hear with you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Inclination of the Heart

What did God see in David’s heart to choose him? We don’t know. We can only try to imitate his courage, compassion, and mercy (and not his flaws).

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the sixteenth chapter of First Samuel (1 Samuel 16:1-13): the anointing of David.

At the beginning of this section, God spoke to Samuel, the chief prophet of the day, and said it was time to move on from King Saul. Saul had been selected to be the first monarch of Israel, and God and Samuel had become increasingly disappointed with his conduct and his character.

It was time to move on. It was time to select Saul’s successor. This would be — was — an act of rebellion, one that would eventually move into a lengthy civil war between Saul and Saul’s successor.

God directed Samuel to the house of Jesse, a resident of Bethlehem, because Saul’s successor was to be found amongst Jesse’s sons. You might remember this part of the story: one by one Jesse presented his sons to Samuel. One by one Samuel looked at them and said, “This young man looks like a king.” Each time God said, “This is not the one. Human beings see with the eyes, but God sees into the human heart.”

Eventually Jesse presented his youngest, David. “This one,” said God, and Samuel anointed him.

I do wonder what it was that God saw in David’s heart that God did not see in the hearts of Jesse’s other sons. Certainly David displayed a lot of desirable characteristics as we moved through the story. He was brave. He was compassionate. He could be generous and kind. Were those things not in the hearts of the others?

It is also true that David displayed some of the worst of humanity, especially as he became king and lived into that power. He committed sexual assault. He connived at murder. Were these things not in the hearts of his brothers?

The story doesn’t say.

I do think that the potential for evil dwells in the hearts of any human being. I also think the potential to do good dwells in the hearts of any human being. So what was it that God looked for? What was it that God saw?

I think it was not just potential. I think it was inclination. Which way was David likely to go as compared to his brothers, as compared to anybody else? Was he just a bit more likely to choose the paths of righteousness, of courage and generosity of mercy, than were his older brothers? Again, the story doesn’t say except by describing the things that David did later in life.

I hope that each of us will remember how much we can and can’t see when looking upon our brothers and sisters, our family of humanity. I hope that each of us will make our judgments based on what is revealed of character through choices, decisions, and action. And I hope that each of us will, to be honest, do better than David, that we will each emulate his compassion and mercy and keep away from the sins that he committed.

May we each find ourselves viewed in the heart by God, and may God be satisfied with what is there.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Refreshment

When Jesus met a woman at a well in Samaria, it turned out that they both had something to offer to one another: Refreshment.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the fourth chapter of John’s Gospel (John 4:5-42): the conversation between Jesus and a woman he met at a well in Samaria.

The conversation started with Jesus’ simple request that she share some of the water she was drawing so that he could have a drink. It went from there to matters much deeper — deeper even than the well, if you like. It went to spiritual matters. It went even to the identity of the Messiah, the Deliverer, the one who was coming.

Unlike lots of other conversations, Jesus actually acknowledged to the woman that he was the Messiah.

The conversation was persuasive enough that she went back to the town and invited her neighbors to meet him. She said, “Come and meet a man who told me everything I’ve ever done. He couldn’t be the Messiah — or could he? Come and see.”

It occurs to me that this story is about refreshment. It started with Jesus asking to be refreshed with the literal water to be drawn from the well. It continued with the refreshment that Jesus offered to this woman and to her neighbors: refreshment of the spirit.

He offered and delivered not just an acceptance, but also real valuing for her and for those around her, despite the fact that she was a Samaritan, despite the fact that she was a woman, despite the fact that there were a number of things that should have kept them distant from one another.

Yet they refreshed one another.

I think refreshment is a central activity, a central calling, a central obligation, if you like, of the life of faith. We are not simply here to be ourselves. We are here to support one another, to be a community, to be a family, if you like. In that family we refresh one another. We provide refreshment such as water, food, shelter. We provide refreshment emotionally and relationally. And when and how we can, we offer refreshment for the spirit: that living water of which Jesus spoke that flows through our very souls and renews our lives.

Refreshment.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Expanding Grace

Who can receive grace? According to the Apostle Paul: anybody and everybody.

Here’s a transcript:

 I’m thinking about the fourth chapter of the Apostle Paul’s letter to the church in Rome (Romans 4:1-5, 13-17).

Paul faced a real challenge. It was a challenge of theology. It was a challenge of thought. It was a challenge of relationship. He firmly believed that the salvation that God had offered through Jesus was urgent and important. He firmly believed that it needed to be extended to the entire population of the world.

The relationship with God, however, have been understood for centuries as mediated by a couple of limiting factors. They believed that the relationship with God was primarily for the descendants of Abraham. Other people could be added, but it took time and effort. Further, they believed — Paul believed —that through the gift of the Law offered through Moses, God had codified that relationship. Therefore people who followed the Law were those who could expect to receive any kind of grace from God.

The apostle Paul believed that that grace needed to be offered and expanded and extended as far and wide as possible.

So he went back the God’s relationship with Abraham. He went back and he found a critical aspect of that relationship. When God said to Abraham, “I will make you an ancestor,” even though that seems incredibly unlikely at Abraham’s advanced age, Abraham believed God. Abraham trusted God. There, said Paul, was the seed. There, said Paul, was the key to open the door.

 Not the keeping of the Law, because as we know about law, law defines not “keeping” so much as it defines breaking. Not even kinship, ancestors sharing from Abraham, that was not where that original relationship had begun. It had begun in trust.

Trust in God, said the Apostle Paul, and that relationship is yours. That offer of salvation can be accepted. That place next to Jesus can be yours.

Not only for Abraham, not only for the countless others who had followed Abraham, not only for them, but also for you.

As we continue our Lenten journey, it is worth remembering that it was the Apostle Paul who, for the vast majority of us, made it not only for them but also for us.

May it also be a part of our Lenten journey to see that we understand and share God’s grace as not only for us, but for everyone.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Temptation

Each Lent we tell the story of Jesus’ Temptation – because like Jesus, temptation is a part of our lives.

Here’s a transcript:

Lent begins this Wednesday, so I’m thinking about the fourth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 4:1-11). Each first Sunday in Lent, the Revised Common Lectionary tells the same gospel story (if from a different gospel each year). That story is the Temptation of Jesus.

As Matthew put it, after his baptism, Jesus went into the wilderness “to be tempted by the devil.” There were three of them that Matthew named. First, that the devil advised Jesus to transform stones into bread because he was hungry. The devil then invited Jesus to leap from a high place to demonstrate the protection of the angels to everybody else. Finally, the devil took him to a mountain and showed him all the realms of the earth, and said that they could be his if Jesus would just worship him: him, the devil. Jesus refused them all, and the devil left, and the angels came and ministered to Jesus.

Why did the editors of the lectionary place this story in front of us at the beginning of each Lent? I think it’s because it is a characteristic that we share with Jesus — not necessarily a direct encounter with a personification of temptation or evil (I suspect that those experiences are rare).

We do, however share with Jesus the experience of temptation, now don’t we? We know that there are times when we are invited to do things, to say things, to act in ways that are contrary to what God expects of us, to what society expects of us, to what our faith community expects of us, to what we expect of ourselves. Temptation may be small or it may be great. It can range from certain kinds of hungers to the temptation to ultimate power.

We share the experience of temptation with our Messiah.

Hopefully we also experience the resistance of temptation. Jesus did not rely solely upon his own inner strength to do so. He went back to the Scriptures. He went back to the things that he had been taught as a youth and as a young man: things that would help him to decide between what was right and what was wrong, what was good and what was better, what was fit to the circumstance and what would not help in this moment.

Somebody who is hungry should eat. That’s simply true. But in that temptation, Jesus refused to use his power to make stones into bread. And I think it could only be because he was tempted by the one he was tempted by.

So one of the questions for us is always: where is the temptation coming from? Are we hungry simply because we’re hungry, or are we in being invited to satisfy our hungers in ways that transform us into something we should not be? We should not be someone who exercises our power erratically or selfishly. We should be people who exercise our power on behalf of others.

Jesus resisted his temptations because he had the support of the wisdom of the ages and, of course, because he was he was. May we resist our temptations with the support of the wisdom of the ages, and with the aid of Jesus, who was who he was and is who he is in our lives.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.