Where's Your Victory?

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

John 20:19-23; 1 Corinthians 15:51-58

March 31, 2013 (Easter) • Portage First UMC

VIDEO INTRO

And then there were six...and by tonight, there will be only four and they will be headed to Atlanta. I’m speaking, of course, of the annual religious celebration we know as March Madness. Today, Louisville and Duke battle it out in Indianapolis, and Michigan and Florida play each other in Texas, and the winners of those games will join Wichita State and Syracuse at the worship service of basketball known as the Final Four. Several weeks ago, they started with sixty-four teams, sixty-four who are, in many ways, the best of the best in college hoops. All of them started out with hopes (even plans) of victory, but only one will make it to the winner’s circle. Only one will be victorious. And then...what? What happens then? Well, they get to have their names added to the winner’s list, and they get a trophy and probably a celebration, and people remember them...for how long? Seriously, how long? Other than the most dedicated sports fans, who really remembers the victors of March Madness year after year after year? Anyone know who has won the tournament the most (UCLA)? Who won the first tournament in 1939, the only tournament this team has ever won (Oregon)? What was the first year IU won (1940)? And when was the last year Ball State (my alma mater) made it into the Sweet Sixteen (1990)? So, we get all worked up about this game, but really, what difference does victory make? Who remembers it in the end?

Today, we’re here to remember the most significant victory in all of history, because it was a victory snatched out of what seemed to be defeat, and it was a victory that forever changed the course of human history. No matter how the victory of March Madness turns out, whether it’s to your liking or not, it’s unlikely things will change much in the next couple of weeks because of it. But this victory, the victory of Jesus over hell, death and the grave, changed everything and upended much of what we think is true. We gather here this morning, hearing the same story we hear every year at this time: how Jesus went to the cross, was killed by the Romans and the religious leaders, was buried, and then on Sunday morning, rose from the dead. We remember how the women were the first to report it, but it wasn’t long before Jesus was showing up everywhere: in a garden near his tomb, on a road to a town called Emmaus, and that evening, back in the Upper Room where his disciples were hiding out. John is quite clear that’s what they were doing, and he should know, because he was there. They are meeting in terror, fearful that every step they hear outside might be a religious leader, coming to arrest and kill them just like they did Jesus (20:19; Barclay, The Gospel of John, Volume 2, pg. 272). And then, suddenly, without warning, Jesus is just there. He stands among them, just like he used to. And, as if to confirm that it’s really him, he greets them the way he often had: “Peace be with you!” (20:19). But notice, then, how he goes on to confirm his identity. He doesn’t point to his face. He points to his wounds. He shows them his hands and his side, the places where the nails once were, the place where the spear was thrust deep into his body (Card, The Parable of Joy, pg. 242). Despite being raised from the dead and having a resurrection body (one that, it seems, can walk through locked doors and appear and disappear at will), Jesus is still known by his scars. And when they see the scars, they are filled with overwhelming joy (20:20).

As I said, it’s a familiar story. We circle back to it every year at this time. But why? I mean, why do we keep coming back here, to the empty tomb? The reason is really quite simple: this is the story that defines us. This is our story, which makes me wonder: do we come here with overwhelming joy? The disciples only got to that point once they realized the man before them was Jesus, but we know the story. We’ve known the story from the beginning. We knew how it would come out, even before Lent began. So do we gather here with that same joy those first disciples experienced? Let me put it another way: do we get more excited (whether we show it outwardly or not) about the resurrection this morning as we do about the basketball game later today? We should, because this story, more than any other story, is what defines us, is what shapes and molds us. This story, Jesus’ resurrection, tells us four things that should shape us as followers of The Way (cf. Hamilton, The Way, pg. 164).

The first thing the resurrection tells us is that love has conquered hate. The worst the world could do it did to Jesus. He came, he lived, he taught that the most important thing is to love God and love others. He forgave sin, and he called people to live in a new way. The Gospels tell us over and over how he loved people, especially those no one else cared about or gave a second thought to. The least, the last, the lost—the sheep without a shepherd. And for all that, in response to his love, they killed him. They ambushed him in a garden, they put him on trial in a kangaroo court, they convicted him of trumped-up charges, and they managed to get Rome to sentence him to death. But not just any death. Jesus was convicted to die in one of the most painful, brutal, horrific deaths possible. Rome may not have invented crucifixion, but they perfected it. They made sure it was a lingering death, one that lasted several days and was more about suffocation than blood loss. And they did it out in public to show people their power. This was what happened when you defied Rome. And even then, in agony beyond what we can imagine (the word “excruciating” means “out of the cross”), Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). To the very end, Jesus would not let hate win. And when he was raised from the dead, the disciples and us were shown again that love always conquers hate. Hate does not and will not have the final word.

There is a lot of hate in our world, and it comes from all directions. In fact, each “side” wants you to believe that the other “side” is hate-mongering. But the reality is that the language we use, on both sides of whatever issue is out there, is full of hate. It seems to be the only way we think we can be heard. This past week, again in a strange collision with Holy Week, the Supreme Court heard two cases: one regarding same-sex marriage in California and the other focused on the Federal Defense of Marriage Act or DOMA. Rulings aren’t expected until June from the high court, but it was fascinating to watch the way people on both sides responded. Much hate. Little love. Regardless of where you stand on these issues, the call of the Christian is to love the other, especially the other who is on the opposite side from you. That’s the example of Jesus. I’m not saying love means we change our standards or just “let anything go.” Our United Methodist Church has a stance on the issue. What I’m talking about is the way we respond to those who believe differently than we do. Love must always conquer hate because that’s The Way Jesus has laid out before us. The same thing is true in our families, in our neighborhoods, in our church. It’s far too easy to draw up battle lines, to slip into thinking of “us” and “them.” We live in a culture that nurtures that kind of thinking to the point where we have well over a million attorneys currently practicing, calling us to constantly challenge the “other.” Hate is rampant, but as Christians, we are people for whom love must be allowed to conquer hate. Jesus is risen—and love wins.

The second thing the resurrection tells us is that grace has conquered sin. “Sin” is not something we talk about much today, especially outside of the church. The word for “sin” in the Bible is hamartia, which has the meaning of “missing the mark” or “straying from the path.” You might think of it like your GPS. I have mine on my phone, and so before a big trip, I program in the beginning and the ending points, and we take off. Siri talks to me as we travel, telling me when I should turn and when to get ready for the next change in direction. And when I turn a way she doesn’t think I should, I get this message (you’ve probably heard it, too): “Recalculating.” That’s computer-speak for, “You dummy, you’re going the wrong way.” A while back, I was out on 20 and I missed the turn because the road has been moved since the maps were made. And Siri said, “Recalculating,” and then she told me to make a U-turn. I’m not sure that was entirely legal at that point, but I did it and was soon back on the right road. That’s kind of what it’s like. Sin is what breaks our relationship with God, and takes us off the path he has for our life. It may look good for a while, but it messes us up and we need to make a U-turn. That’s where grace steps in.

Jesus met a woman one time who thought things were good. She had a boyfriend, and they were often together. There was a problem: he was married, and she was being used by the religious leaders. They came and grabbed her out of her bed, and threw her before Jesus. Her sin had been found out, and they were ready to stone her. They had the law on their side; Moses had said they could kill her for what she had done, for the ways she had strayed off the path. But Jesus let grace conquer sin. “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her” (John 8:7). And no one could. That doesn’t mean Jesus overlooked her sin; in fact, he tells her to leave her life of sin behind her, to make a decided U-turn. But grace conquers sin. Condemning people because of their sin means no one wins, which is why Jesus offers grace and forgiveness.

Paul put it this way: “The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law” (1 Corinthians 15:56). In other words, sin only brings hurt, heartbreak and death—sometimes physical, but more often spiritual and emotional and relational death. Sin does not lead to life. And then Paul goes on: “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (15:57). What Jesus did on the cross, taking our sin upon himself, paying the price for our sin, was validated when he was raised from the dead. “Where, O death, is your victory?” Paul asks. Death lost when Jesus was raised, and his work in offering grace and forgiveness was accomplished. Sin has no victory. Grace does. Let me say just quickly that if you struggle with either experiencing or offering grace and forgiveness, beginning next Sunday, Pastor Deb and I are going to be speaking for the month of April on just that topic: finding forgiveness from God, from your spouse, from friends, and offering it to others. I can’t encourage you enough to join us as we look at the ways grace conquers sin. Jesus is risen—grace wins.

The third thing the resurrection tells us is that hope has conquered despair. You will likely not find people more hopeless than those disciples on Saturday. Just a week earlier, they had thought Jesus was “the one.” He was going to kick out the Romans, take over Jerusalem, and set up his kingdom on earth—and even better than that, they would be his advisors, his closest friends, his Cabinet members. And then came the week of all weeks, and by the end, Jesus was hanging between heaven and earth on a Roman cross. Most of them couldn’t even bear to watch; they ran away. Only John stayed near the cross. Judas hung himself. Thomas, after the burial, couldn’t even bear to be around the rest of them and was off by himself. They gathered back in the Upper Room because, very likely, they didn’t know what else to do. And when Sunday came, most of them didn’t even go out to the cemetery. The women went, not to look for a risen Lord, but to anoint a dead body, to finish the work that had been interrupted on Friday. Even when the women come back and tell the disciples that Jesus’ body is missing, most of them don’t bother to go check. Only Peter and John run to the tomb, and out of the two of them, only John has any sort of hope at that point (John 20:1-10). These are hopeless people. Every hope they had was nailed to the cross. Every hope they held onto expired when the last breath left his body. And even that evening, they still aren’t sure what to believe, until he shows up and wishes them peace. Through locked doors, in the midst of hidden disciples, Jesus is suddenly there and their despair is overwhelmed by joy, by hope.

But one of them wasn’t there that night. Thomas was still off by himself, and he missed seeing Jesus. That’s what happens when you miss church! The rest of them are talking all week about Jesus showing up, Jesus being risen, and Thomas, poor Thomas, just wants proof. “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (20:25). How many times that week do you suppose he repeated those words? Because Jesus doesn’t appear to Thomas until the next Sunday. And when Jesus shows up, he invites Thomas to do as he has demanded. Thomas doesn’t. He no longer needs the proof. Instead, he falls down in front of Jesus and proclaims, “My Lord and my God!” (20:28). In an instant, for Thomas and the other disciples, hope has conquered despair.

Kyle Idleman tells the story of Robert Reschar, who says he was very good at keeping secrets, especially when it came to his addiction. He was a nice guy, a churchgoing person, but he couldn’t quit going to what he calls Theater X. He frequented places of pornography, and even though he tried and tried and tried to stop, he would always find his own determination lasting just a few days. Even a few days after his wedding, he found himself driving back to that theater. “I felt like I was beyond help and beyond God’s forgiveness,” he wrote, “so why bother trying?” When he shared his secret with his wife, they tried together to get help, but still the addiction persisted, and one night, Robert says, he came to the bottom. Despair overwhelmed him, and he went into their bathroom, swallowed a fistful of painkillers and sleeping pills, then crawled into bed hoping to just fade away. Instead, he began crying, and his wife woke up. When he told her what he had done, she rushed him to the hospital, where they were able to save his life. He also got connected with a ministry that focused on this kind of addiction, and for the first time, he says, he really began to find hope in Jesus. “There was no way,” he says, “for me to be free from this through self-determination or inner strength. It wasn’t until I finally admitted defeat and began to walk humbly with God each day that I began to experience freedom” (Not a Fan, pgs. 83-84). In the depths of despair, Robert found hope. Maybe you’ve known people like that, too. Some say we can’t really follow Jesus until we come to the end of ourselves, but despair will not have the last word. Jesus is risen—hope wins.

And ultimately, the resurrection tells us that life has conquered death. Paul says Jesus’ resurrection is the “firstfruits” of our own (1 Corinthians 15:20). Basically, he means that Jesus went first, and because he was raised from death, death no longer wins. In the resurrection, God the Father has done for one what he ultimately will do for all who believe (cf. Walker, The Weekend That Changed the World, pg. 182). We may still have to go through death, but for all those who trust in Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord, death is not the final word. We will be raised. The worst thing is never the last thing! And so as bad and awful and horrible as death is, it’s not the end for those who trust in Christ. Life is ahead. In fact, Paul says if there is no resurrection, then our faith is futile. It’s worthless, and we are idiots for believing it (15:12-19). He says if all we have is faith for this life, then we are, of all people, most to be pitied. But, the good news is, life has conquered death. There is life beyond this life. Because Jesus was raised, death has been defeated and life is the victor—beginning right now and right here.

And not just any kind of life. We’re empowered to live the life Jesus has been describing. We’re empowered to walk The Way. All throughout Lent, we’ve been looking at the ministry of Jesus and seeking to understand how he wants us to live. And it’s hard. It’s not an easy life. Love your enemies? Bless the peacemakers? Care for the outcasts, the lost? Die to ourselves? How can we ever live that kind of life? In our Gospel lesson this morning, Jesus tells the disciples how they’re going to do it. He “breathes” on them, John says (20:22). The word that’s used there is the same one that’s used in the Greek translation of the book of Genesis, when God breathes life into Adam and he becomes “a living being” (Genesis 2:7). All throughout his Gospel, John has been emphasizing that what God the Father did at creation, Jesus the Son is “re-doing” in the midst of his people. As the Father gave Adam life, the Son now gives his disciples new life, Spirit-empowered life. That’s what they receive when he breathes on them: the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God, the breath of God, the wind of God (20:22). Earlier, Jesus told them that the Spirit would come to help them keep Jesus’ commands (14:15-16). Loving our enemies, caring for the outcast, blessing the peacemakers and all the rest is only possible when we live life the way Jesus intended us to, filled with the Holy Spirit, when we have the very Spirit of God living within us (cf. Wright, John for Everyone, Part Two, pg. 149). It’s because of the Spirit that we can live the way Paul instructs: “Stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (15:58). Spirit-empowered life: that’s the kind of life that overcomes death. That’s the kind of life that gives hope even when we stand beside the grave. That’s the kind of life that even enables us to, as John Wesley said, “die well,” knowing that there is more beyond this. The Spirit gives us the strength and the power to face whatever comes. In life, in death, in life beyond death, we know that because Jesus is risen—life wins.

Love wins. Grace wins. Hope wins. And ultimately, life wins. The worst thing is never the last thing. And it was that truth, those promises that caused these disciples, who on that first Easter Sunday were hiding out for fear they would be the next ones on a cross, to go out, to spread out across the known world and proclaim Jesus Christ, crucified and yet risen. Most of them died a martyr’s death; they were killed because of their faith in Jesus. Had it been a hoax, had it been a made-up story, had someone been able to produce evidence that it wasn’t true, we wouldn’t be sitting here today. The movement Jesus started would have died out very quickly, because the Christian faith rises and falls on the truth of the resurrection. Those first disciples were counting on the truth of the resurrection to carry them through, and that begs the question: what are you counting on?

People count on all sorts of things to get them through life. Some trust in their skill—in the next couple of weeks, those college basketball players and coaches will be counting on all of the skill in those players on the floor to be able to win, to achieve victory. Others count on money or sex or power or influence. Some people count on drugs, addictions, or alcohol. Some people count on relationships, and when that goes sour, they’re left without any kind of rudder or anchor. Others count on their good deeds. I’ve known plenty of people in my life who say, “Well, I do good things, I don’t really need Jesus, I think I can do it on my own.” I wonder how you know. When have you done enough “good” to outweigh the times you’re not so good? Because none of us is always “good.” So what’s the equation? Can we ever be “good enough”? What’s the standard? How do you know when the scales are tipped in your favor? You can’t. It’s always a guessing game. That’s why Jesus came, to do for us what we could not do for ourselves, to conquer death and to win for us an eternal home. Because of Jesus, love wins. Because of Jesus, grace is available. Because of Jesus, hope can be our steadfast companion. And because of Jesus, life is offered to all. What are you counting on?

During these last few weeks, we have been virtually visiting sites all over the Holy Land in an effort to see Jesus in his setting. Last summer, in Jerusalem, we were able to visit two sites that both claim to be the location for Calvary and the empty tomb. One, located inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, has the weight of tradition behind it, and the other, the Garden Tomb, has some scholarly backers and simply looks more authentic. And good guides will tell you the merits of both. It’s true that being at the Garden Tomb feels and looks more like it would have on that first Easter, but when we went to the Holy Sepulcher, I had an altogether different experience than I’d had before. The church was crowded, and it was difficult to impossible, that late in the day, to get too close to the sacred spots—the top of Calvary, the stone where Jesus was laid, the remnants of the empty tomb and so on. We went into some corners of the church I had not been in previously, but then I wandered out into the great rotunda where what’s left of the traditional tomb is located. Our guide had warned us there would be a long line, likely a two-hour wait or longer, just to get into the tomb for a few seconds. And it was hot; I had no desire to stand in the line, plus I had been inside before. So I took a few pictures, and moved on, and as I did, I couldn’t help but think that it didn’t matter whether or not I went into the so-called “tomb.” Standing in line for two hours or more was not going to change the truth: Jesus is still risen. It doesn’t matter whether the site is the church or the garden; Jesus is still risen. I can count on it. I am counting on it. Jesus is risen, and therefore the worst thing is never the last thing. Love wins; hate loses. Grace wins; sin is defeated. Hope wins; despair is done for. Life wins; death is crushed. Where’s your victory? My victory is found at the door of the empty tomb. Jesus is risen—he is risen indeed!

Where’s your victory? What are you counting on? Have you put all your hope in this crucified and risen savior? If so, then you, like all who trust in him, have to reason to sing this morning: Hallelujah, for the Lord God, the Almighty, reigns! He is risen...he is risen indeed!