Gethsemane—Surrender

Luke 22:39-45

“Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. On reaching the place, he said to them, “Pray that you will not fall into temptation.” He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. When he rose from prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow.”

When times are desperate, often we take comfort in the familiar. So soldiers in the trenches recite snatches of Bible verses memorized in Sunday School years before. An old man ready to die travels back to the mountains of his birth. A business man with a fateful decision to make hides away in a hunting lodge. A child who has been sharply disciplined slips away to an attic hideaway. A young person wounded by the betrayal of a friend retreats into the pages of a favorite book. A mother exhausted by the unrelenting grind of cleaning and parenting calls a special friend for a long talk. So it was for Jesus. “As he was wont...” the King James Version of the Bible phrases it. The New International Version simply says that going up to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray was his “usual” practice. Jesus did it all the time. Climbing the hill, Jesus approached God. The Garden was a spiritual home, a sanctuary, let us say, a place where he was always safe with God. But, that night nothing was as it usually was. Jesus was anything but safe. On that night of terrors, in the previously peaceful garden, Jesus was arrested by the Romans, sold-out by his compatriots and betrayed by a beloved friend. But that’s not the worst of it. That night Jesus was not even safe in the presence of His Father. Even God stood in opposition to Jesus’ plans for his life. Even God would be, it seemed, the author of more suffering than anyone should ever have to bear.

You see, Jesus and the Father had always been in agreement concerning everything and the Father always met all of the Son’s needs. When Jesus was empty, God filled Him with power. When Jesus was lonely, God was his companion. Jesus climbed the Mount of Olives and He climbed mountains in the countryside, and always God was easily found. Always the purpose of the Father and the Son were the same. Except. Except when it came to crucifixion.

Jesus had not agreed to having nails pounded through his hands and his feet. Jesus had not agreed to humiliating defeat. Jesus had no desire whatsoever to have a spear thrust into his side. Jesus was not committed to this excruciating ordeal. Of course not. Who in the world would be? Not you. Not me. Remember, if you can, the most terrible suffering that you have ever had to endure as the innocent victim of another’s cruelty. Maybe it was a bully’s fist, another child’s taunts, racial slurs, an angry parent’s insults, a husband’s abuse, a boss’s accusations, a friend’s lies, the hatred of those who will not allow you to be who you are, the betrayal of a sacred commitment. Did you sign up for this abuse? Was it your will? Your plan? Did you like it for even a microsecond? No way! Neither did Jesus.

Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray--not the polite prayer of a person at peace, not the prayer of praise or thanksgiving or petition he often taught his disciples. Jesus went to the top of the Mount of Olives to stand toe to toe with God, to argue for a change of plans, to protest the absurdity of crucifixion. His was the prayer of a grandmother weeping in the hospital as she watches her child, the mother of four children of her own, dying of cancer. “There’s got to be another way God!” His was the prayer of a soldier waking up in the field hospital without a leg. “God, I can’t live this way.” Everyone, on days such as this, says, “There has got to be a better way.” “Good God”, Jesus says, “I could draw up a better plan with my eyes closed.” Any dim wit can come up with a better plan than crucifixion!

Try it sometime. Try to design a plan for overcoming all the evil and all the sin in the world. Certainly you can do better than crucifixion. Try to design a plan for a creature who can have fellowship with God and at the same time a will different from God. Write an alternative plan for the world which does not result in so much rebellion and so much suffering. Can’t you do it?

Well, maybe you can’t. But don’t despair, Jesus couldn’t do it either. But that doesn’t mean that Jesus didn’t try. On that night of horrors there was a struggle in that dark garden, a clash of wills that has something in common with the very worst struggle you ever had with God:

When life was monstrously unfair.

When the one you loved died so tragically.

When your dreams crumbled all around you.

When your children were hurt as no innocent should ever be wounded.

When illness of body, mind or soul was destroying the force of life within you.

God, why me?

Why now?

When will this pass?

I hate you God!

Some of us can remember speaking those words in the midst of a terrible battle with God.

Jesus was engaged in this kind of battle with God. And one thing you know already, such spiritual battles are never over when we want them to be. They can be both furious and long. The writer of the text, seeking to be concise, does not directly reveal how terrible a struggle it was. The battle of wills is summarized by Luke with these words, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Lk. 22:42)

That is only a summary of the encounter in the Garden, in the way that, “The Germans started the war and the allies finished it,” is a summary of WWII; in the way that, “Sally’s child died. Paula learned to forgive God.” is a shortcut around the hell Paula went through before she surrendered and found peace again. In Luke’s Gospel we know that the words of Jesus are only a synopsis because of what is said in verse 43.

“An angel appeared to strengthened him.”

The battle with God almost killed Jesus right then and there. An angel had to come to restore Jesus so he could survive until the next day. The angel only came, however, after Jesus surrendered. And that is what Gethsemane is all about. Surrender. Letting go of my will and taking hold of God, God’s plan and God’s love. It was a battle for Jesus and it is always a battle for us. If you don’t believe it was a battle, then listen in on an imagined extension of the conversation between Jesus and God as they vie for control in the Garden of Gethsemane. I ask myself, how did the conversation between Jesus and God go that night. Here is an answer:

Jesus--Give me one good reason why I should die?

God--Because I said so.

Jesus--I said a good reason, a reason school children and scholars will understand.

God--Substitutionary atonement.

Jesus--Excuse me?

God--How about “Someone has got to pay the piper.”

Jesus--Let’s hire someone else.

Hold it a second here! There is no way that on that day the tone of the conversation between Jesus and God was light or humorous.. They were dealing with dark matters of cosmic consequence. They were talking about blood, agony, death, and an eternity of salvation or damnation for the whole world. And I found myself writing a dialogue that was light, and maybe even irreverent. Why? I think I know why. If I were to write the dialogue that really could have taken place between Jesus and God in the Garden of Gethsemane, I would have to reach down deep in my own soul to find the pain that I have experienced when my will has also battled the will of God. I would have to remember, I would have to feel, the anguish of striving with God, like Job strove with God, like Jacob wrestled with God. I would have to write from my guts what my guts would do almost anything to avoid experiencing again.

Every Christian sometime along the way contends with God, cannot fathom God’s will, hopes beyond hope that a cup will pass. It will not pass. Since it will not pass, we must pray for the courage to listen to the voice within that knows what Jesus said to God.

When I listen to that voice I can write about what really might have been said. When I listen and hear, the spiritual transformation that Jesus experienced in the Garden may also happen to me. Let’s try the story and dialogue again:

Jesus stumbled down the path a ways distant from the apostles. Down a narrow trail, past some trees, up a small knoll, around some rocks. He left the disciples behind because he didn’t want them to witness this terrible encounter with God. He needn’t have worried though, for they were already collapsed in their exhaustion.

Jesus collapsed, hard, to his knees, small stones slashing his skin, but he did not notice the pain or the blood, because he was already crying out: Jesus--”My God, My God, I have come to Jerusalem as you commanded and traveled everywhere and did everything your way. Why can’t it stop here? Like this path ends at this rock, let this path of suffering end on this mountain. Let a new journey begin today. There is so much that I can do and so much that I can be. There are women and men I have yet to love, your children Lord. They need me.” And Jesus hears a voice speak from deep within:

God---”They need ME.”

Jesus--”I have borne so many griefs and carried so many sorrows,” Jesus continued. Some days it seemed like the sins of the whole world were on my shoulders. I endured the loneliness of having no place called home. I persisted despite the rejection of friends and the condemnation of authorities. I have suffered enough. I can bear no more.”

And Jesus hears the voice of God again. This time it seems to come from within the rocks and stones. They too have found their voice and they cry out for God:

God--”I will endure.”

His arguments have gotten him nowhere. Feeling utter despair, Jesus begins to weep. His tears drip down his face and fall upon his robe and some reach the ground. To his horror, Jesus notices the ground around him turning red. His tears have turned to blood. Immediately, Jesus knows the meaning of this. He screams out:

Jesus-—”No! Not this!”

He is angry. He does not want his blood to be spilled out on the ground like the blood of Abel, like the blood of martyrs, like the blood of centuries of innocent victims. Jesus shouts at the rocks and the trees and the hills and the sky and the stars and the Father:

Jesus—-”I want to live.”

Then there is silence. Jesus is silent. The rocks have nothing to say. The disciples are still asleep. But then Jesus thinks he hears the voice of God again. This time it seems to speak from amongst the spaces between the leaves of the trees. It is a hushed voice, a gentle voice yet a powerful voice:

God—--”Then you must die.”

Jesus cried out:

Jesus--”I want to live.”

God returned:

God--”Then you must die.”

And I, weak kneed in my Garden of Gethsemane, protest, “No way. Not this! Anything but this! Don’t take away my marriage. Don’t ask me to let go of the one I love the best! Don’t ask me to believe that you can turn even this to the good. Don’t ask me to surrender my dreams. God, they were such good dreams, wholesome dreams, dreams for my children and for the people we loved and served together. God, I want my dreams to live!”

And in the silence of this sanctuary when no one else is here, and in the ebb and flow of faith as it passes between my children and I and other people we love, and in the hopes of new beginnings, and in the darkness of the night, in my personal and private Gethsemane, I hear the voice of God saying, “Then your dreams must die.”

I say, “God, I want my dreams to live.” God answers, “Then your dreams must die.”

Did you notice what just happened? By asking for God’s help, even as I was writing this sermon, I was given the courage to go deep within myself so that I could know not only what may have passed between God and Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane but also what must pass between God and me in my own personal Gethsemane. If I want to live God’s plan for my life instead of my own plan, then I must go to Gethsemane and contend with God like Jesus struggled with the Father. And if I want to be a whole human being, instead of an angry and fractured and incomplete human being, then I must surrender my will to God’s will and get on with my life. I must say with Jesus, “Not my will, but thy will be done.”

For that was exactly how the dialogue between Jesus and God ended in the Garden of Gethsemane. It was not an easy surrender. It cost Jesus terrible suffering. None the less, it had to be. “Not my will, but thy will be done.”

So, have you been mistreated, lied about, spat upon, spitefully used, gossiped about? Are you a victim of disease, disability, despair? Are you the victim of broken promises? Have you been betrayed? Have they doubted your abilities, fired you unfairly, forced you to sacrifice your integrity or your identity? There is only one way back to wholeness, and that way is along a pathway that leads to the top of the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. There is only one way back to wholeness, and that way requires surrender to God’s will. There is only one way back to wholeness and you will know you have found your way when you can say, “Not my will, but thy will be done.”

So be it. Amen.

I

I.t.i]c 23 : 2

Rev. Kenneth C. Whitt

June 11, 1995

Luke 23:26—43: “As they led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. A large number of people followed him, including women who mourned and wailed for him. Jesus turned and said to them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children. For the time will come when you will say, ‘Blessed are the barren women, the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then “they will say to the mountains, “Fall on us!” and to the hills, “Cover us!” For if men do these things when the tree is green, what will happen when it is dry?” Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with him to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals--one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots. The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Christ of God, the Chosen One.” The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!” But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

No one, to test the orthodoxy of another’s faith, ever asks; “Do you believe in crucifixion?” Often people do not believe in God. People are skeptical about miracles. People distrust testimonies about spiritual experiences. People question the resurrection. People doubt the power of prayer. Many scoff at the possibility of a virgin birth or a whale swallowing a man or a flood covering the earth. But I have never known anyone to question crucifixion. No one has ever asked me the question, “Did Jesus really die on a Roman cross?” Non— Christian sources testify to the crucifixion. The horrors of crucifixion are all too real, and everybody knows it. We live in a world that crucifies its saints, and everybody knows it.

Yet it is not

just the

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crucifixion of Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, that no one doubts. No one also doubts that other human beings have been and are being crucified.

state

Martyred apostles Tortured enemies of the

Abused children

Persecuted minorities

Oppressed nationalities

The Jews in Germany

The Armenians in Turkey

The Native Americans in the United States

The Anabaptists in 16th century Europe

The gruesome history of crucifixion goes on and on and on...

The New Testament encourages us to think of crucifixion in this broader way when we are told to take up our crosses and follow Jesus. We think of people with terrible burdens to bear as carrying their crosses. Any time an innocent person experiences unreasonable suffering we may speak of crucifixion.

However, I want to propose today that not all unreasonable suffering of the innocent is crucifixion. Some unreasonable suffering, tragically, sadly, never becomes anything more than suffering, misery, despair, affliction. Some adversity remains only adversity. It has no meaning. There is no redemptive or transformational value. No one learns anything from the pain. In no way is the misery turned into any good of any kind.

What is the difference between

simple misery and the misery of crucifixion? What transforms some undeserved and unreasonable suffering

crucifixion-—crucifixion leads to resurrection, redeems, transmutes, converts, makes all things new?

I gave you the answer to this question in my sermon last

Sunday. The answer is

Gethsemane. The answer is

surrender. For millions of people, suffering, misery, tragedy remain only suffering, misery and tragedy because they do not, will not or cannot go to Gethsemane. At Gethseinane we struggle with God and learn to surrender our wills to God’s will. At Gethsemane the battle that occurs in the darkness of the night as we strive with God, like Job strove with God, as we wrestle with God, like Jacob wrestled with God, at Gethsemane we decide that God is the author of our lives and we are going to trust the story God is writing for us rather than the one we would write for ourselves. At Gethsemane we surrender to God and tell God that whatever God has in mind is O.K. with us. Whatever script God writes, be it:

Be it:

disease death divorce

failure

betrayal rejection

discrimination persecution

into that that

Be it:

B

Be it:

condemnation

sin

addiction weakness evil

We will not despair. We will no longer rage. We will no longer hold on to our bitterness or our grudges. We will no longer endlessly rehearse the wrongs that have been done to us. We let it all go because we know that God has authored our lives and God knows the way across this wilderness——and we will follow wherever God leads.

The choice is yours and the choice is mine. Everyone experiences unreasonable suffering sometime. The suffering of innocents is of epidemic proportions in the human family. The only choice we have is between meaningless misery and crucifixion. To surrender to the flow of events in our lives, to believe that the Author of our lives can rewrite the script and make even this tragedy meaningful; this is the way, the only way, for wholeness to replace the brokenness we have experienced. It is an extraordinarily difficult way, however, because for the most part we find it easier to nurse grudges, retain bitterness, harbor resentments, feel sorry for ourselves, and

• cultivate the pity of others. Anything is better than just

• letting go. Good friends, I assure you, I know of what I speak.

Look what becomes possible when

we just let it go. I would find what I am about to say hopelessly sentimental, unbelievable and unavailable to me and to you, except for one thing. Jesus struggled with letting go just as intensely as you and I. In his humanness he was frightened nearly to death as he thought about how he would endure crucifixion, to say nothing of how he would forgive those who betrayed and abandoned and pounded and denied and washed their hands of him and mocked and crucified. Yet on that cross, in the midst of unspeakable agony, that is exactly what Jesus did. Jesus forgave. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” What startling words! Who would have expected it? “Father forgive them....I have been stabbed in the side with a sword. Forgive the soldier who thrust his blade. He did not know what he was doing. The crowd ridicules me and laughs at my pain, but, Father, forgive them for they are lost and afraid and do not know what they are doing.” Jesus could say these incredible things because he had been to Gethsemane and he had decided, “Not my will, but thy will be done.”

Crucifixion is common. It is even common for human beings to make their way to Gethsemane. However, Jesus may have been the only one who ever went to Gethsémane before he was crucified. Think about it. It’s staggering. Jesus forgave them while he was on the cross. I’ve known some pretty mature Christians who have been able to forgive some pretty terrible

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assaults. Stan Manierre was a close friend in Massachusetts. He was captured by the Japanese in World War II and spent 18 months in a POW camp being tortured. He faced starvation and suffered from unimaginable diseases. He did not forgive his tormenters while he was being tortured. He was released at the end of the war but he did not forgive his captors during the year he spent recovering in a Navy hospital. It took him five years, five terrible years of struggle atop the Mount of Olives, kneeling in the Garden of Gethsemane, at first praying for vengeance, later praying for release from all the pain, until finally he surrendered his experience to God. Stan decided that God was the author of his life and that their must be meaning even in the horrible experience of a POW. He went to seminary. He became a missionary. He volunteered for an assignment in Japan. He served Christ in Japan for eighteen years. He arranged a face to face meeting with his prison guards. He forgave them.

I’ve known Christians who have forgiven spouses who committed adultery. I’ve know Christians who have forgiven the sexual abuse of a parent. I’ve know Christians who have forgiven betrayals, failures, prejudice, and all kinds of hate. I’ve know Christians who forgave 25 years of alcoholism and all the torment that went with it. But I know of no Christians who offered the forgiveness while the offense, the violation, the persecution, the defilement was going on. Dietrich Bonhoffer,

a Lutheran Pastor, was imprisoned and eventually executed by the Nazis because he supported an attempt to assassinate Adolph Hitler. They said of him, seeing the way he carried himself in his prison cell, that he bore his cross with dignity and courage. But describing himself, Bonhoffer confessed the bitterness and rage that nearly consumed him. It was only with the greatest spiritual effort that he learned to forgive his captors.

Jesus went to Gethsemane before he was crucified. He placed his life in God’s hands and thus was prepared to forgive his tormenters even as he hung there in unfathomable pain. We go to Gethsemane, if we go at all, only after we have experienced crucifixion. We go when the bitterness and rage are consuming us. We go when we cannot stop blaming and complaining. We go to Gethsemane when our feelings of abandonment by God and our feelings of hatred towards whoever it was that hurt us are threatening to destroy our souls. Vengeance and hate and anger and self-pity can absolutely ravage our lives. We go to Gethsemane after we experience crucifixion in order to learn to look at our experience through the eyes of God.

In Gethsemane, seeing our lives as God sees them, learning to surrender to God’s will and God’s way, we are shown something that few of us have any desire to see. But if, when we are praying and wrestling with God in

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Gethsemane, we see what God has in mind to show us, it becomes immeasurably easier to surrender. What I see, in addition to myself as the crucified one, is myself as the crucifying one. Jesus Christ was crucified, but he crucified no one else. You and I, along with all other human beings, are notorious crucifiers. We regularly inflict suffering on the innocent, just by seeing the world through our own selfish point of view, just by failing to see beyond our own noses, our own race or religion, our own country. We crucify the poor with our greed, we crucify the ones we love the best because we are wounded and forget that others are wounded too. Majorities crucify minorities. The supposedly righteous crucify the apparently guilty. In Gethsemane we see everything and everyone the way God sees. We see that we share the blame. We see that the sin of each one of us——no matter how pure we think we are——was sufficient to send Jesus to the Cross. As convicted but forgiven people, we learn to pray, “Father, forgive them——even those who have injured me--for they did not know what they were doing.” Because Jesus forgave me, I was saved from a life time and an eternity of hell. I can-- though it will be a struggle--I can extend that forgiveness to another:

Even my brother

Even my enemy

Even my wife

Even my captor

Even my employer

Even my would be destroyer

Because I know that the destroyer cannot destroy me, if I go to Gethsemane, if I let God’s will be done, if I will to forgive.

Paul teaches us that we spend a life time growing to a greater measure of the fullness of Christ. One meaning of this instruction——a meaning that does not sell well in a society hell bent on conspicuous consumption and personal pleasure——is that as we mature as Christians, crucifixion will be more frequently and more deeply part of our lives. Crucifixion, leading to forgiveness, leading to resurrection and new life, is God’s way of redeeming a fallen creation. You will never hear popular religion singing a jingle like, “Come be crucified with me!” But Jesus sings it over and over again. Jesus sings this song until something amazing begins to happen. Growing closer and closer to the full measure of Christ, the time lapse between our experience of crucifixion and our offer of forgiveness to our enemy begins to decrease. As we mature in Christ we find ourselves, when we are attacked, going to Gèthsemane sooner. We find ourselves letting go of the anger and the bitterness and the hurt sooner. We come closer to Jesus, until one day we may find ourselves offering forgiveness even as the injury is being done to us. We stop experiencing insults and attacks personally. They become, instead, opportunities for God to be glorified in our lives. Would it not be interesting to discover one day that God has allowed these

experiences of rucifixion in our lives exactly for that purpose——for our spiritual transformation and God’s glory. Would it not be interesting to discover one day that the painful experiences we fear the most are God’s greatest gifts of love to us, given for the salvation of our lives and the salvation of the world.

You and I may find ourselves a very long way from accepting crucifixion in such a way. The very idea that we could value our experiences of suffering, that we could forgive even as we are being abused, may seem to be a fools wish. But this is the spiritual destination of our lives. Jesus has already shown us the way. All we have to do is follow.

So be it. Amen.

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1: ]. : L—14

Mark l6:l-14--”When the Sabbath was over Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?” But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.

“When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons. She went and told those who had been with him and who were mourning and weeping. When they heard that Jesus was alive and that she had seen him, they did not believe it. Afterward Jesus appeared in a different form to

two of them while they were walking in the country. These returned and reported it to the rest; but they did not believe them either. Later Jesus appeared to the Eleven as they were eating; he rebuked them for their lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him after he had risen.”

Mark’s account of the resurrection of Jesus compels us to notice the failure of those closest to Jesus to bear witness to his resurrection and to believe that he was alive. The women said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. When Mary Magdalene finally overcame her fear and gave witness to the disciples, the men did not believe and remained stuck in their mourning and weeping.

Then two of the hopeless men met Jesus themselves and they went to tell the others. Still the remaining nine did not believe and continued in their despair. Finally, Jesus appeared to them all and had to reprimand them for their lack

of faith. These were

frightened and stubborn men and women, paralyzed by their lack of hope, unable to bear witness, unable to believe, unable to get on with their lives. Have you ever known

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people like that?

The people who first read Mark’s Gospel were like that. They also were frightened into silence, by persecution. Would they, the first century Christians, also say nothing to anyone because they were afraid? What about Christians down through the ages? What about Christians today? Will we also bear witness to no one because we are afraid? Will we remain trapped behind the walls of our wounds, unable to believe?

Do we believe in resurrection? This is not only a question of what we think about the audacious claim that Jesus, who died on a Roman Cross on a Friday left a Jewish tomb very much alive on a Sunday. When I ask, “Do you believe in the resurrection?” I am asking for much much more than an intellectual affirmation of an historical event or a theological doctrine. I am also asking if you believe that you too will one day rise from among the dead. I am asking if you will overcome your fear and bear witness to Jesus Christ. I am asking about your hope.

This sermon is the third in a series of messages that take us from Gethsemane, where we surrender to God’s will, to Crucifixion, where we must learn to forgive, to resurrection, where we experience renewed hope. Gethsemane, Crucifixion and Resurrection are unalterably connected. There is no resurrection without crucifixion——no new life without death. Crucifixion

remains only death and misery without Gethsemane. If I cannot •learn that God authors my life, my entire life; if I refuse to get my will out of God’s way, I will remain bitter and angry when things don’t turn out my way. Holding on to my rage and my judgements I will never learn to forgive. Stuck in the past there will be no new life, no hope, no resurrection. I must believe in resurrection——with all of my body, mind and soul. If I do not and cannot believe in resurrection then I am spiritually and emotionally dying or dead. I have only to wait for body to catch up with my heart and soul in order to exit this vale of tears.

In the plan of God, resurrection follows crucifixion, always. That’s the way God made this world. Resurrection is not just a distant historical event. It is woven into the very fabric of life. It is a fundamental principle of creation. Water flows downhill. The earth revolves around the sun. Like attracts like; thus love attracts love and good repels

evil. Fundamental principles

of creation——resurrection

always follows crucifixion. When we learn to say, “Not my will but thy will be done” meaningless death becomes crucifixion leading to resurrection. We learn to forgive and all manner of pent up energy is set free for new life.

When crucifixion is followed by resurrection in our lives, what do you think that means? Do you think it means...

...a happily ever after ending?.

.everything coming up roses?

What has crucifixion followed by resurrection meant for you? Has it meant...

...no more betrayals? sin,

...no more brokenness?

Once upon a time you went to

Gethsemane. You prayed

desperately. In time, much more time than you desired, God rescued you from your fiery anger and your consuming bitterness. Now you were free for resurrection, for new life, for a new beginning. You forgave the adultery of a spouse or the abuse of a parent or even your own failure. You were born again. You knew it and everyone around you knew

it. You let out a deep sigh of relief and said, “I’m glad I won’t have to go through that again. I’ve learned my

spiritual lesson well.

Resurrection is mine.”

What do you think? Does it work that way? Do we go to Gethsemane only once? Do we experience crucifixion only once? Do we need resurrection power only once?

I do not think so.

“But”, you say, “at least it will be easier the next time around.” Maybe, in some ways, but my experience is that as we mature spiritually God’s challenges to our willfulness—-- my desire to have it my way-- get more intense and we have to spend even more time in the Garden of Gethsemane. As we

mature spiritually, our usefulness to God grows. The closer we are to God the more likely we are to be crucified on God’s behalf. Every time misery and despair enter our lives, we have to remember again, in these new circumstances, that God is the author of our lives and we can trust the entire story that God writes.

Hope is not the same thing as “happily ever after.” Hope is different than things turning out exactly as I planned them. Hope is knowing that God is with me and that God has a plan. Listen to the prophet

Jeremiah:

Jeremiah 29:ll I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the LORD, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.”

This is the promise of God in the scriptures and it is the promise of God that has been fulfilled in my life many times in the past. Thus I can know today that God has a plan. The difficulties are that:

It is not my plan.

It does not emerge in my

wounds,

time.

And my personal well being is not the only thing God is concerned about.

God is also concerned about preparing me for the next twenty years of my ministry.

God is concerned about the well being of my children.

God is concerned about everyone I serve.

God is even concerned about the salvation of those I have experienced as enemies.

Everything is not going your way either and everything is not going to go your way. But if you are going God’s way it doesn’t matter. Because God will be with you.

I trust that you understand how difficult all of this is. Hope is birthed in the Garden of Gethsemane, in the midst of the blood, sweat and tears of surrender. The future is born on the day when we let go of the pain of the past and believe, really believe, that God has authored our lives, and that God can work for good even in this crucifixion experience. Resurrection hope matures in the midst of crucifixion when we look our persecutors in the eyes and say, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

What does resurrection hope, born in Gethsemane and matured in crucifixion, actually look like?

Resurrection hope looks like frightened women walking to the tomb on Easter morning because they had to do what they had to do. They felt no hope but they

acted with faith and love. Sometimes resurrection hope means just taking the next step forward.

Resurrection hope looks like the decision of a widow not to die after her husband of 45 years dies of cancer. She wants to die. She can’t imagine how she will live through the pain. But she doesn’t give in to death. She holds on to a promise she cannot see.

Resurrection hope must cover each and every situation of despair, darkness, crisis, disappointment, catastrophe, death, desperation, disaster, calamity; every situation or it is not resurrection hope. Resurrection hope easily covers those minor losses when any optimistic person can see the way through the grief but also must cover those profound losses and catastrophes when even a giant of faith would be crushed. Resurrection hope covers those experiences of death where we learn that new life is possible on this earth and resurrection hope covers those experiences of death when faith can look only to eternity.

Resurrection hope is not an elixir that makes all things fine. It is a promise that God is mine.

There have been times in world history when circumstances were so bad and darkness was so absolute and suffering was so overwhelming that Christians have only been able to hold on to Resurrection hope by placing the locus of all hope in heaven. The black slaves had

little hope of liberation in this wand, so they turned towards heaven. Many of the most popular hymns of the church reach out for this same hope.

“When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound, and time shall be no more, and the morning breaks, eternal, bright and fair; when the saved of earth shall gather over on the other shore, and the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.”

But there have been times when history has turned so ugly and the suffering of the righteous has been so terrible——for example, Christians were being fed to the lions or burned at the stake——that even a vision of heaven was not enough for the people of God. In such times another vision was given to a prophet of God, like John on the isle of Patmos, a vision of a coming battle in which the forces of light ultimately would win the victory over the forces of darkness. God’s people, finally, would share in the victory and God’s enemies, finally, would be destroyed.

Resurrection hope has taken many forms because it covers every situation that has happened and can happen in our lives.

The death of divorce, covered.

The death of a child, covered, though not easily.

The death of a spouse,

covered.

The devestation of

war,

covered.

Aids, cancer, bubonic plague,

leprosy, covered.

Poverty, hunger, covered, though sometimes I do not see how.

The holocaust in Nazi Germany, though beyond any human reason, covered.

Unemployment, covered.

Loneliness, covered.

Alcoholism, covered by resurrection hope.

We arrive at a moment in time, having traveled the painful road to Gethsemane and the treacherous road of crucifixion and the astonishing road of resurrection. We stop and are amazed, even stunned, at how far we have come. Even now it seems like an impossible journey——this journey of surrender, forgiveness and hope. But we know exactly how we made it. God. lininanuel. God with us. And the tears come. We give thanks. For resurrection. For hope. For new life. For new beginnings.

So be it. Amen.