Seeing the Wounds

“Seeing the Wounds”

A week ago we proclaimed that Christ is risen; God is triumphant over sin and death. Yet today we are keenly aware that the news of the past week does not indicate that sin has been eradicated from our world. The simmering civil war in the Ukraine continues; South Sudanese rebels divided the people of a strategic oil village by ethnicity and kill hundred’s, American doctors were killed in Afghanistan and here on the home front, less than a week after we declared that no human weapon will save us, Georgia’s governor signs a bill allowing guns in places of worship. And less than a week after we proclaimed the God’s victory over our sin, Cliven Bundy, conservative folk hero makes racist statements that so sadly are not just the sentiment of an old rancher, but a deplorable number of Americans. No, sin has not been eliminated from our world.

But we don’t need the mass media to tell us that; our own hearts and homes and workplaces offer abundant evidence that sin has not loosened its grip since last Sunday. Some years, for any one of us, there is a huge gap between the Easter proclamation of joy and the felt reality of hopelessness -- a gap that threatens to swallow us and our fragile faith.

That is why it is good to have the Gospel of John in the Bible, because John takes on directly the disappointment of Easter, the real difficulty of believing two things: first, that Jesus has risen from the dead, and second, that anything has really changed as a result - including us.

Thomas is the one who blatantly calls attention to the gap between the Easter proclamation and our present reality. Thomas is stuck in that gap. He wasn’t there when the risen Jesus appeared to the other disciples, but he has heard that Jesus is alive, and he’s not buying it. Disappointed, heartbroken by the death of his Lord, Thomas now just wants to get on with his life; he was off somewhere else, on his own, when Jesus showed up in that locked room the first time.

How Thomas finally comes to believe is one of the most familiar scenes in the gospel; countless artists and musicians have taken it as their theme. “Come on, thrust your hand into my side,” Jesus says. The instant Thomas touches the raw wound, he blurts out, “My Lord and my God.”

We might remember that single moment when Thomas touches the wounds, but we forget what Jesus says next, though certainly the Evangelist John means for us to think deeply about these words: “Because you have seen me you believe? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (20:29). I hear some impatience in our Lord’s voice, as though Jesus were saying to Thomas and all subsequent doubters, ourselves included: “Look, I will not continue to do this. There is a better way to learn to believe than sticking your hand in my side. There’s a better way to feel the truth of the resurrection. You can start by being the truth of the resurrection.”

Jesus had already shown his other disciples that better way, when he breathed into them the Holy Spirit. He said to them, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” The power of Jesus’ ministry to heal and forgive has been handed over to us. If nothing has changed after Easter, whose turn is it?

Did you note that a week after the disciples had seen the Lord (absent Thomas); they’re still hiding out in a locked room. Not much can change when you don’t leave the house. Not much changes when we wait for someone else to change a situation or when we are afraid or in denial about what is outside our doors.

Today is National Children’s Sabbath and what our Child Abuse and Neglect Council calls, Blue Sunday. That’s why you see the pinwheels, the prayers, the insert with alarming realities and many opportunities to be the change called for in the resurrection. The story from our Gospel shows us the scars of evil and hatred upon our Lord. Isn’t it curious that God could raise Jesus from the dead but didn’t heal the nail wounds in his hands? Do you think this was an oversight? Surely not. The power of death is conquered but the scars and wounds remain- wounds to the very heart of God.

It seems that there are scars we love to show off, to tell stories about, and there are others we want sewed up as neat as possible so that no one ever knows. There are children all around us who are hiding their wounds and wherever children are wounded, our God is crucified again.

In 2012, approximately 7,300 children in Saginaw and Bay counties were involved in

Children’s Protective Services investigations. One in four girls and one in six boys are sexually abused before they turn 18. About 90 percent of abused children know their abusers. There are close to 39 million childhood sexual abuse survivors in America. This does not even take into account the children who are verbally abused, physically assaulted by other means. We are with good cause worried enough to address the bullying that goes on in the schools peer to peer. What about the bullying that goes on at home – in “good” homes, I might add?

A few years back I was in a fitness club, a nice club, with nice people just like us. It was early in the morning, before school hours. I was the only one there until a dad came in with his young elementary aged son. Skinny and small in stature, the little boy’s growth spurt was obviously a few years away. Before too long that sweet faced little guy was on the bench press, face red with exertion, the weights far too heavy for his fragile frame, he was crying, real tears, “Daddy I can’t, Daddy, I can’t” as dad screamed at him, “Come on you wimp.”

God forgive me, I left the room. I couldn’t stand to hear the boy cry, so I gathered my things and I left. Only later to learn that this dad was not only making decisions for his children he was, in a more official capacity making decisions for some of your children too. And I never challenged it. I saw the wounds, but choose to stay in my locked room.

On Easter morning, lilies grace the sanctuary and give us that great Easter fragrance. Jesus uses the image of the lily to share a gospel message of freedom from anxiety. “Consider the lilies of the field…” In the fall of 2011, a “Sesame Street” character named Lily expressed another message.

The children’s television show introduced a new Muppet, Lily, in a special episode to share a message about childhood hunger in America. Lily was a 7-year-old with pink fur, a blue dress and red hair. “Sesame Street” introduced her to represent one of the 16 million American children whom the Department of Agriculture classifies as “food insecure.”

Lack of reliable access to food is a real problem for millions of Americans, and yet this problem often remains invisible. “Sesame Street” introduced Lily to draw attention to the problem while also reassuring children who may feel isolated by hunger and scarcity. Mere words of comfort are not enough for us to offer Lily and her peers, the one in five children in America who don’t have enough to eat. Do you know that Lily’s character brought tremendous criticism upon Sesame Street? How dare Sesame Street instill within children that it’s okay to receive food assistance? Most of the blog responses clearly held the belief that no one in America is going hungry.

It’s Low Sunday, where is the change that was supposed to happen because of Easter? Is it not found in this, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”

At North Carolina Baptist Hospital mandatory new employee orientation training started in 1992. The inductees are given a simple instruction, “No one should be lost in this hospital.” A primary obligation for every employee was to help anyone who could not find the way. If helping a patient or visitor required being late for a meeting, so be it.

This instruction came in the context of explaining the hospital’s key values of compassion, excellence, integrity and innovation. These values were printed on cards hooked to our employee identification badges. Every new housekeeper, physician, accountant, food server, chaplain and clerk receives the same two days of orientation. It struck me as brilliant that all were given a simple, single instruction that if embodied would shape the culture of the institution with one central and clearly stated value: Help every person who is lost.

I read what a new chaplain wrote about joining the staff at Baptist Hospital. “Prior to joining the hospital staff, I had been a student in its clinical pastoral education program during seminary and had visited many of my church members. During those 10 years, I noticed that employees were friendly and quick to give directions. I had witnessed all the key values embodied by countless employees. Yet, I never stopped to think about what specific practices nurtured this culture.

In my daily routine as a new employee, I moved through seven different buildings built over a 60-year period. I noticed that every person who stood staring at a sign was interrupted by an employee. If I was more than 30 feet from the “lost” person, I was never the first employee on the scene. It did seem as though everyone stopped to give directions.

I wanted to help, but was often lost myself. I asked a colleague what she did when she did not know how to get to the inquirer’s destination. “Get lost with the person,” she replied. “Walk with the inquirer until you can find someone who can help them.”

I’ve thought about that a lot in terms of our church in these post-Easter days. No one should be lost in this community. Shouldn’t this be our stated value as the body of Christ. And if we don’t know the way to help them, we should get lost with them until we can find someone to help. No one should be lost, especially not one child.

It is Low Sunday. Low-spirited or not, we have come here, each of us hoping to believe that Jesus has risen from the dead and that something -- everything -- has changed as a result. And look, each of us has been given the Spirit of Christ and his resurrected power with these words, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.”

Christ is risen. And so are we. God is stronger than death or anything else that threatens us. He’s still robbing graves. He sends us out with the same power as Christ our Lord to see the wounds, and be the ongoing healers and hope bringers in the name of our risen Savior.

What we are doing for children…we cannot stop doing. It matters, you are making a difference – listen to what Karen Volk, the principal of Westdale, wrote to you