Sermon 23rd May 2010
Today, our Vicar, Cameron Barker continues our study of the story of Lazarus this week's reading - John 11: 38-46)
I wish! I wish I had £1 for each time someone has asked if I've lost weight since surgery, or told me that I have, or said that I look somehow different, lighter, better, changed ... I'm sure that £1 a pop would have been enough to pay for at least one flight to Cambodia by now!
It really has happened that often. The strange thing is that I definitely haven't lost any weight! What I don't doubt, though, is that something has happened. I'm sure that something important has changed because of what I went through in those roller-coaster few days at the start of this year. And, as this truly amazing series has unfolded, so has another dawning realisation. I have come to the point of believing that it would be helpful for more than just me if we end today by reflecting on that time. And, just as importantly, by reflecting on where God wants to lead us from here.
Of course that fits with the rest of the series. From the start we said that it would be one of personal reflections arising from the story of Lazarus rather than expository sermons on it. That's what we have had; and the response to that has been unprecedented. The preaching team met again last week, to look back as well as plan ahead. We agreed that none of us has ever seen, much less been part of, anything like this. We are riding on a wave of shared pain that has resulted in expressions of Godly compassion and love of the most moving kind in this church. And that in itself has vindicated tackling this subject in the way we have.
I said at the start that we had no idea where this series would go. There was 'just' a sense that this was the right, Godly thing to do, in the right way, and at the right time. One question I did hear raised was why we didn't preach on the book of Job if we wanted to explore the nature of suffering. The reason we didn't was because this wasn't, this isn't, about suffering! Not primarily anyway. As we've acknowledged, there has been, there is still, plenty of that about here. As Jesus did in this story, we have shed tears together over some of that suffering, because it hurts. But all that pain has been set in the context of what happened at Lazarus' tomb. This has been, this is, a series about hope, then. It has been, it is, about the hope of resurrection, the hope of new life that we can hold on to, even in the worst of times.
All the way through, we've taken it that we do all know the details of the Lazarus story. It may be that to some extent we've not dwelt long enough on the miraculous nature of it – yet! But we couldn't possibly end without ensuring that we have fully grasped just what Jesus did in Bethany. Of course if we were good 1st-Century Jews we'd be talking about that before and above all else! We'd know that though souls stay around a dead body for 3 days in case there's been a mistake, by Day 4 they are gone! How did Jesus reunite Lazarus with his soul, then?! For those who saw it happen, that was just as impossible as raising dead body!
Be that as it may, stop and think about the facts: Lazarus was 4-days-in-the-tomb dead; Jesus brought him back to life, in front of many witnesses, just by speaking, it seems! It is amazing; it was a miracle. We should be stunned and awed, and full of praise, not to mention full of faith and hope. More than that, this is absolutely central to what Christians believe – the resurrection from the dead. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, if there is no resurrection from the dead, then we're wasting our time! We're mega-fools who deserve only pity if our hope ends at the grave. But it does not! The raising of Lazarus from death shows us without doubt that Jesus has power even over death itself.
Of course John told this story partly to point on to Jesus' own death and resurrection. As I'm sure you've realised, the events of Easter are more significant than the raising of Lazarus, by way far. Because, even in the the midst of the amazement, the praise, the hope, and the everything else of this story, there has been a big 'BUT' always in the background. To name it as a question, where is Lazarus now? Can we go and ask him what happened in those 4 days? Can we talk with him about life and death, or knowing Jesus? No; because he's long dead! This resurrection – miracle as it was – was 'only' ever a temporary reprieve! Lazarus, as all of us do, had to face the end of his human life – and then encounter what Jesus' resurrection means.
The evidence is that none of us will know what that is like until we get there ourselves – as we all will one day. But I have found myself idly wondering what Lazarus did with the rest of his life before he died again. It's a rather strange experience, to have life again when you thought you didn't any more. I think that I perhaps have a little insight into that myself now, after what I went through at the start of this year. I know that many of you already know the details of that, but I'll repeat a few, for those who don't.
Having been fairly ill for a few weeks, but not knowing with what, I landed up puzzling a succession of doctors in A&E one Thursday in January. In the end, the Consultant settled on a ruptured appendix. But my symptoms weren't classic; so they – unusually – gave me a CT scan. That confirmed the appendix rupture; but a vigilant technician also spotted something else, maybe. So the next day I was given an echo scan of the heart. That showed a very rare, and very large tumour (almost the size of a tennis ball), growing inside my heart.
Clearly this couldn't be left, any more than the long ruptured appendix – but it was now Friday afternoon. So, having been told what the problems were, and how serious, I had to wait until Monday for double-surgery to try and fix them. There was always the option of doing it in an emergency before then, so I think that I had to sign the consent forms just in case. I was feeling very ill by then, but I'll never forget the doctor's words. He showed me the part of the form where it rates your chance of dying on the table. He said that mine was much higher than usual. “But don't worry about that”, he said: “the death rate if we can't sort this out is 100%”!
As I say, I was feeling very ill, and got worse over the weekend. But in retrospect I'm sure that what I did was face the prospect of death head-on. When I was awake it certainly felt like I was dying. I tried to write, or record, a piece for my funeral, but that was more than I could manage in my semi-conscious state. Not much could get outside my head, not even through my mouth. But it all churned away in here, and then surfaced in my first 'proper' conversation after all the drama. By then I was back home, with the surgery all done and sorted. As I've said before, my friend Philip asked what I'm going to do with this life that I've been given back, after so nearly losing it. And that, I think, is indeed THE question.
It's THE question not just for me, but for each one of us. It's THE question for us as a church too – and I think that I now have at least the beginnings of an answer to offer. We mustn't rush to get there, though. I'm aware that I've had a rare and special privilege in going through this. Not all of us have had that – though the story of Lazarus is meant to help us to face our own mortality. Generally we're not great at death in Western culture, though. We like to pretend as best we can that it's not going to happen to us. So we're not ready for it – when those we love die, or when it's us. That can change, though; and I hope that it will, as a result of what you have seen, heard and learned from this story.
As I said, we chose it because it is a story of hope. It's a story of hope that we can hold on to in faith in the midst of whatever. Nobody has ever said that it's easy, facing the pains, challenges and uncertainties that we do, personally and as a church. Of course we don't always get it right, personally or as a church. And of course each of us does ultimately have to face death, even death that we may see as untimely or unfair. But we can do that in hope. And THE question still remains: what are we going to do with this life that we have been given, for as long as we have it? How are we going to live, ahead of meeting Jesus, and discovering for ourselves what resurrection means and what eternal hope looks like?
When Gill spoke in this series she focused on some of the practical ways in which we can help one another to live as people of hope through difficult times. I very much agree, that this is a special feature of this church, and wonderful to see at work. Gill also told of how we'd had a comment from someone, saying they believe that God is affirming this church as a gift to people who are suffering. I agree with that too; and also believe that it's God's time for us to stretch that care and compassion even wider than now.
It's too early to speak of this in detail yet. But we are in the early stages of developing a strategy that we'll work at in earnest from September. It will give as many who want to the chance to go out into our parish with this message of God's hope in the midst of whatever. It won't be in any way in-your-face, so much as the offer of prayer, support, care and love for whoever 'out there' may need it. Our aim will very much be to go on offering exactly the same to all of us who need it 'in here' too. And no doubt there will be times when we can give that, and times we need to receive it. What I remain sure of is that, however it all works out, we will see Jesus bringing some new part of God's future bursting into our present with hope and joy – into the mess, pain, and all. So let's pray that he will do that, this Pentecost and beyond ...
I wish! I wish I had £1 for each time someone has asked if I've lost weight since surgery, or told me that I have, or said that I look somehow different, lighter, better, changed ... I'm sure that £1 a pop would have been enough to pay for at least one flight to Cambodia by now!
It really has happened that often. The strange thing is that I definitely haven't lost any weight! What I don't doubt, though, is that something has happened. I'm sure that something important has changed because of what I went through in those roller-coaster few days at the start of this year. And, as this truly amazing series has unfolded, so has another dawning realisation. I have come to the point of believing that it would be helpful for more than just me if we end today by reflecting on that time. And, just as importantly, by reflecting on where God wants to lead us from here.
Of course that fits with the rest of the series. From the start we said that it would be one of personal reflections arising from the story of Lazarus rather than expository sermons on it. That's what we have had; and the response to that has been unprecedented. The preaching team met again last week, to look back as well as plan ahead. We agreed that none of us has ever seen, much less been part of, anything like this. We are riding on a wave of shared pain that has resulted in expressions of Godly compassion and love of the most moving kind in this church. And that in itself has vindicated tackling this subject in the way we have.
I said at the start that we had no idea where this series would go. There was 'just' a sense that this was the right, Godly thing to do, in the right way, and at the right time. One question I did hear raised was why we didn't preach on the book of Job if we wanted to explore the nature of suffering. The reason we didn't was because this wasn't, this isn't, about suffering! Not primarily anyway. As we've acknowledged, there has been, there is still, plenty of that about here. As Jesus did in this story, we have shed tears together over some of that suffering, because it hurts. But all that pain has been set in the context of what happened at Lazarus' tomb. This has been, this is, a series about hope, then. It has been, it is, about the hope of resurrection, the hope of new life that we can hold on to, even in the worst of times.
All the way through, we've taken it that we do all know the details of the Lazarus story. It may be that to some extent we've not dwelt long enough on the miraculous nature of it – yet! But we couldn't possibly end without ensuring that we have fully grasped just what Jesus did in Bethany. Of course if we were good 1st-Century Jews we'd be talking about that before and above all else! We'd know that though souls stay around a dead body for 3 days in case there's been a mistake, by Day 4 they are gone! How did Jesus reunite Lazarus with his soul, then?! For those who saw it happen, that was just as impossible as raising dead body!
Be that as it may, stop and think about the facts: Lazarus was 4-days-in-the-tomb dead; Jesus brought him back to life, in front of many witnesses, just by speaking, it seems! It is amazing; it was a miracle. We should be stunned and awed, and full of praise, not to mention full of faith and hope. More than that, this is absolutely central to what Christians believe – the resurrection from the dead. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, if there is no resurrection from the dead, then we're wasting our time! We're mega-fools who deserve only pity if our hope ends at the grave. But it does not! The raising of Lazarus from death shows us without doubt that Jesus has power even over death itself.
Of course John told this story partly to point on to Jesus' own death and resurrection. As I'm sure you've realised, the events of Easter are more significant than the raising of Lazarus, by way far. Because, even in the the midst of the amazement, the praise, the hope, and the everything else of this story, there has been a big 'BUT' always in the background. To name it as a question, where is Lazarus now? Can we go and ask him what happened in those 4 days? Can we talk with him about life and death, or knowing Jesus? No; because he's long dead! This resurrection – miracle as it was – was 'only' ever a temporary reprieve! Lazarus, as all of us do, had to face the end of his human life – and then encounter what Jesus' resurrection means.
The evidence is that none of us will know what that is like until we get there ourselves – as we all will one day. But I have found myself idly wondering what Lazarus did with the rest of his life before he died again. It's a rather strange experience, to have life again when you thought you didn't any more. I think that I perhaps have a little insight into that myself now, after what I went through at the start of this year. I know that many of you already know the details of that, but I'll repeat a few, for those who don't.
Having been fairly ill for a few weeks, but not knowing with what, I landed up puzzling a succession of doctors in A&E one Thursday in January. In the end, the Consultant settled on a ruptured appendix. But my symptoms weren't classic; so they – unusually – gave me a CT scan. That confirmed the appendix rupture; but a vigilant technician also spotted something else, maybe. So the next day I was given an echo scan of the heart. That showed a very rare, and very large tumour (almost the size of a tennis ball), growing inside my heart.
Clearly this couldn't be left, any more than the long ruptured appendix – but it was now Friday afternoon. So, having been told what the problems were, and how serious, I had to wait until Monday for double-surgery to try and fix them. There was always the option of doing it in an emergency before then, so I think that I had to sign the consent forms just in case. I was feeling very ill by then, but I'll never forget the doctor's words. He showed me the part of the form where it rates your chance of dying on the table. He said that mine was much higher than usual. “But don't worry about that”, he said: “the death rate if we can't sort this out is 100%”!
As I say, I was feeling very ill, and got worse over the weekend. But in retrospect I'm sure that what I did was face the prospect of death head-on. When I was awake it certainly felt like I was dying. I tried to write, or record, a piece for my funeral, but that was more than I could manage in my semi-conscious state. Not much could get outside my head, not even through my mouth. But it all churned away in here, and then surfaced in my first 'proper' conversation after all the drama. By then I was back home, with the surgery all done and sorted. As I've said before, my friend Philip asked what I'm going to do with this life that I've been given back, after so nearly losing it. And that, I think, is indeed THE question.
It's THE question not just for me, but for each one of us. It's THE question for us as a church too – and I think that I now have at least the beginnings of an answer to offer. We mustn't rush to get there, though. I'm aware that I've had a rare and special privilege in going through this. Not all of us have had that – though the story of Lazarus is meant to help us to face our own mortality. Generally we're not great at death in Western culture, though. We like to pretend as best we can that it's not going to happen to us. So we're not ready for it – when those we love die, or when it's us. That can change, though; and I hope that it will, as a result of what you have seen, heard and learned from this story.
As I said, we chose it because it is a story of hope. It's a story of hope that we can hold on to in faith in the midst of whatever. Nobody has ever said that it's easy, facing the pains, challenges and uncertainties that we do, personally and as a church. Of course we don't always get it right, personally or as a church. And of course each of us does ultimately have to face death, even death that we may see as untimely or unfair. But we can do that in hope. And THE question still remains: what are we going to do with this life that we have been given, for as long as we have it? How are we going to live, ahead of meeting Jesus, and discovering for ourselves what resurrection means and what eternal hope looks like?
When Gill spoke in this series she focused on some of the practical ways in which we can help one another to live as people of hope through difficult times. I very much agree, that this is a special feature of this church, and wonderful to see at work. Gill also told of how we'd had a comment from someone, saying they believe that God is affirming this church as a gift to people who are suffering. I agree with that too; and also believe that it's God's time for us to stretch that care and compassion even wider than now.
It's too early to speak of this in detail yet. But we are in the early stages of developing a strategy that we'll work at in earnest from September. It will give as many who want to the chance to go out into our parish with this message of God's hope in the midst of whatever. It won't be in any way in-your-face, so much as the offer of prayer, support, care and love for whoever 'out there' may need it. Our aim will very much be to go on offering exactly the same to all of us who need it 'in here' too. And no doubt there will be times when we can give that, and times we need to receive it. What I remain sure of is that, however it all works out, we will see Jesus bringing some new part of God's future bursting into our present with hope and joy – into the mess, pain, and all. So let's pray that he will do that, this Pentecost and beyond ...
posted by Parish Administrator at 2:23 pm
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