I Doubt It
Cross posted at Practicing Families
At the dinner table, my pre-teen kids and I sometimes play a game called, “I doubt it.” Somebody says something about their day, and the rest of us get to say whether we believe it or not.
“Today in school, the electricity went out in the school, and we had to work by candlelight, like in the olden times.”
“I DOUBT IT!”
“I met Taylor Swift and she wants me to be a backup singer!”
“I DOUBT IT!”
“They were just handing out free tickets to Disney World today–flight and hotel included!”
“I DOUBT IT!”
It’s a silly game, but it’s fun and gives us permission to dream and imagine the seemingly impossible.
It may be an overcorrection on my part, but when I was a kid, there was not permission given to say “I doubt it.” Not about the Bible anyway. But I had doubts–plenty of them–and I felt such guilt for them. I was not allowed to voice that very human feeling of doubt, because doubt meant that I didn’t believe. And that was certainly not true for me. .
With the Easter season just beginning, we tell this crazy, unbelievable story of Jesus coming back to life. After Jesus was murdered, he was put in the grave, and three days later, he came back to life and spent time with his friends, teaching them and helping them to understand. This is what happens in fictional books our kids read–did this really truly happen to Jesus? And if it did, how was it possible?
Jesus’ disciple, Thomas, had doubts. When the rest of the disciples saw Jesus after the resurrection, they told Thomas, and he said, in so many words, “I doubt it.”
So when Jesus showed up again in the room, without opening any doors or windows, Jesus knew Thomas had doubts. He went directly to Thomas, and invited him to touch his wounds and sore spots.
But Thomas didn’t even have to do touch Jesus to believe. Just the invitation to have his doubts gave Thomas what he needed to believe. Just the invitation to wonder was enough for Thomas to believe, enough for him to say, “Jesus, I believe!”
Our kids have doubts about the things we talk about in church, the things we believe, the faith we hold dear. And if we are raising them to believe in something, they have to have space to put that to the test. They have to have space to make it their own. This doesn’t happen in great depth when they are very young, but as they get older they need space to question, to say, “I doubt it.”
Doubt doesn’t mean we don’t believe. It means that we are trying to understand more deeply. It means we are trying to make our faith our own.
We can hold on tightly to our children, and ask them to believe what we do, or we can give a space for them to say, “I doubt it.” I’m convinced that when we give them a safe place to ask their questions and to doubt, they will be stronger, more faithful followers because of it.
Just like Thomas.
Fear and Great Joy
Easter Sermon based on Matthew 28:1-10
I had a dream a few weeks ago about this church. I dreamt that the front of the building fell into a sinkhole and disappeared on a Sunday morning, just before worship. I arrived at the church, and the tremendous hole in the sidewalk was just being taped off–to prevent folks from falling in. It was an alarming sight, but it was Sunday morning, and we needed to get ready for worship.
I went inside and found folks trying to recover artifacts from the rubble. What they discovered was that the part of the building that fell into the sinkhole was actually a funeral home. Folks were finding empty coffins and urns. It was sad but, like said, it was Sunday morning, and it was time to get ready for worship.
So we began to gather in this sanctuary.
And then the building began to shake. We wondered if we needed to get out–if the building was unsafe. But then the shaking stopped. We dusted ourselves off and–with fear and great joy–we began to worship.
This dream has been a metaphor for wider issues I’ve seen tearing at the seams of denominations. There are certainly things that are pulling our Church institutions apart. It’s painful to watch, and nearly unbearable to read about.
But this week–in the light of the resurrection–this dream has taken on some new meaning. This dream is the story of resurrection.
On the first day of the week, the women disciples went to the tomb. And as they arrived, the earth began to shake because an angel had come to roll the stone away from the tomb. This terrified the guards at the tomb whose fear made them appear dead.
The angel told the women, as the angel had told so many folks in the gospel of Matthew–“don’t be afraid–Jesus is alive! Go to Galilee and Jesus will meet you there.” And the women–full of fear and great joy–ran to Galilee to tell the other disciples.
We’ve talked about fear this Lenten season, and what is on the other side of our fears. But in order to know what’s on the other side, we’ve had to wade through our fears To be vulnerable, to accept our humanity, and our frailty.
This is what the women did at the tomb. They came to the tomb that day to face their fears. To face the reality that the person they put their trust in, the person they called Lord, the man they thought was their Messiah was actually no less invincible than any of them. We was made of the same stuff that they were.
The women were at the tomb on the early morning of the first day of the week to lay to rest their hopes and dreams. But instead, the earth shifted beneath their feet. This was not the end of their story. It was a new day–it was a new beginning.
New life can be as terrifying as death, especially if it’s something you never imagined was possible. So these women ran off to tell the other disciples–they ran with fear and great joy. But notice that it wasn’t a balance of fear and joy. While the fear was still there, the joy was greater. While the fear was still there, the joy overshadowed the fear.
This joy is not a giddy, adolescent happiness. This is something deeper. This is a joy that has been through the heartache of death, a joy that has seen the end, and has been surprised by a new beginning. This is a joy that has known hopelessness, but has not been overwhelmed by it.
It’s the joy that brings us to worship on a Sunday morning, even when part of our lives has fallen into a sinkhole. It’s the joy that brings us to celebrate new life, even when we are finding death all around us. It’s the joy that leaves us trembling and grateful.
Resurrection means that that worst thing is never the last thing. This is the morning of the first day of the week. This is the day that the earth shook, the guards appeared dead with fear, the stone was rolled away, and Jesus was alive! And this is the day that we, the fearful, joyful disciples go out to worship and to share the good news. This is a day of new beginnings. Our God is making all things new.
In our fearful lives, may you feel the great joy that comes in the new beginnings, made possible in the resurrection of Christ Jesus.
Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!
Unbind Him and Let Him Go
April 6, 2014
Unbind him and let him go–based on John 11: 1-45 and Ezekiel 37:1-14
It’s good to be in the light, to be out in the open. But there is a bit of comfort to being in darkness, in the tomb like Lazarus. Because in the tomb, you know the landscape. You know the grooves and folds of the rocks, you can pace the space, and know it’s size and depth. In the tomb, you know what is there–darkness and silence and cold stone. And you are held tightly in your pain, sadness, and grief. There is some comfort in the darkness and in the confinement. It’s just you and your hurt and sadness there in that tomb.
But Jesus had the stone removed, and call into the tomb, “Lazarus, come out.” And he told the crowd of people, after raising Lazarus, “Unbind him and let him go.”
In his conversation with Martha, Jesus asked her if she believed that Lazarus would rise again. Martha did, but not in the way Jesus was talking about. She believed in the resurrection of the dead, this notion that at some point in time all the Jewish ancestors would come out of their graves and be reunited. But this was not what Jesus was talking about here. Jesus was talking about something more immediate. And Jesus said to her–Martha, I AM the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes this, even though they die, they will live. Martha, do you believe this? And Martha believed.
Mary, hearing that Martha had met with Jesus, ran out to him, and said one of the most human things in this text, “Jesus if you had been here, our brother would still be alive.” She knew that Jesus could have prevented this. Even in her accusation, she knew who Jesus was, and what he was capable of. Even in her accusation, she was declaring him to be the resurrection and the life.
And Jesus was moved by these words from Mary, and he went to the tomb where friends and family were gathered, crying together. And Jesus asked the stone to be rolled away. And as the stench from the body filled their nostrils, Jesus called Lazarus out of the tomb. And when Lazarus came out, Jesus called to those around him, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
Jesus is doing the resurrection, but that is not the end of the story. He calls the crowd is called to do the unbinding.
Unbind him and let him go.
Resurrection is the I AM. It is God with us. It is the spirit breathing new life into us. And it is here in this body that we take the next steps with that gift we have been given–we do the unbinding. We do the releasing. We share in the joy of releasing each other from oppressive systems, from outdated institutions, from broken destructive relationships, from powers structures that no longer need to have power over us. We play a part in what comes next. We unbind. We set free.
As oppressive as the tomb may be, it can feel safer than the uncertainty of being unbound. The darkness and solitude is predictable, and no one can hurt us in the tomb. But this is not the life to which we have been called. This is not why God came to us in human form. God came to us to breathe life into us, to give us hope, to show us resurrection.
And Jesus went to the tomb, had the stone removed, and called out to his friend, “Arise–come out!” And when his friend had left the safety of the tomb, Jesus said to the community, “Unbind him and let him go. Unbind her and let her go. Fear and death no longer have power in this place.” And the community gathered around their resurrected friends, released them from their burial shroud, embraced them, paying no mind to the smell of confinement, and rejoiced with them for the new life they had experienced that day.