Pastor Hurst

The Passion Week, Easter Sunday

HE IS RISEN! The women have spent the evening gathering and preparing spices to go and anoint Jesus’ body as soon as the Sabbath is passed. They fitfully snooze intermittently awakening through the long night. It is still dark, morning not yet come, when one said, “None of us can sleep. Let’ just go ahead and go.” The others agree. They gather their tunics and spices and head into the darkened streets. They are alone as they trudge through the empty avenues. The birds are not yet singing. Only an early rooster falsely crows that dawn has come. As they walk, they begin to whisper the question that has plagued them throughout the night. “How will we get in? We can never move that huge stone. How?” As they leave the city, the eastern sky on their right begins to lighten. The birds begin to sing. Just as they enter the garden and approach the tomb, the first rays of the rising sun illuminate the rockface of the grave. The women abruptly halt, stumbling into one another, astonished. The mouth of the tomb gapes open; the stone pushed off to the side. Cautiously, timidly, they enter the sepulcher to an even greater shock: there is no body! Yet, the tomb was not empty. To either side of the stone shelf where Jesus’ corpse had been laid, are two in shining white array. Angels. They seek to calm the women. “Don’t be afraid. We know that you seek Jesus. But, He is, as you can see,” the angel points to the empty ledge, “He is not here! He is risen!” The other spoke, “Go tell the Eleven, and all His other followers.” Greatly amazed, trembling, the woman slowly leave the garden. Mary Magdalene in her haste is separated from the others. She is in a hurry. She searches for the Eleven, but finds Peter and John. At the news, those two rush away running at full speed. They leave Mary alone. She feels drawn to return to the garden. A question gnaws: “If Jesus is not in the tomb, where is He?” John is younger and faster. He passes panting Peter, and enters the garden ahead of him. He brakes at the entrance of the open tomb. Fear or wonder or the prospects of what he might find stops him. He only sticks his head into the door. His eyes begin to adjust to the dark. It is true. Jesus’ body is not there. Nothing is there. Except…except the linen, the shroud, with which Joseph and Nicodemus had wrapped him. He hears Peter approaching him. Peter pushes past John. John follows him. Then, they notice together not just the linen cloth but also the face napkin neatly folded, over to one side. Greatly wondering and beginning to believe, they find themselves exiting the garden as Mary re-enters. Mary stands before the tomb. The adrenaline of her wonder has turned to weeping. Blinded by her tears, she looks again into the sepulcher. The two angels have reappeared. “Woman, why are you crying,” they ask. “Because,” she chokes out, “They have stolen the body of my Lord, and I don’t know what they have done with it.” She turns away from the tomb and is startled by a man standing in front of her. She is half-turned away from this impediment in her way when He spoke. “Woman, why are you crying? Tell me for whom you are searching.” Not looking at him, she mistakes the man for the gardener and thinks, “Here is a man who may be able to tell me what they have done with Jesus’ body.” “Sir,” she pleads, “If you have had to move him, please tell me where. I will take his body off your hands.” There is a slight pause. Then, He speaks again. Just one word. Her name; “Mary.” As two questions collide in her head, “How does he know my name?” and “Why is that voice is so very familiar?” it begins to strike her who He was. She whirls around and sees Him. It is Jesus! Her voice shaking with wonder and love and relief, she too responds with one word, “Master.” Later, this day Jesus appears to the other women who, having left the tomb, are on their way to report to the remaining of the Eleven. That evening He will appear to the Eleven. Well, to ten. Thomas refuses the company of the others. Two other disciples had decided to get out of Dodge—Jerusalem. He will make an appearance to them. They will return to Jerusalem. But, first He had appeared to Mary. Only afterward, as others tell their experience of having seen the Risen Lord, does Mary realize she was the first! Jesus had appeared to her first! A woman! One who had been possessed with seven demons! One who had lived so wickedly! One who had been shunned by society! Today, I reserve my commentary to one note, a quote from Jesus Himself. No reflection on the Resurrection and all it ramifications could result in a more concise conclusion: “Because I live, you will live also!” --Jesus May we realize Jesus is truly risen from the dead. People today are still encountering the Risen Lord. If you have not, because He is risen, you could run into Him today. If you do, you will know it is He. He will have known where to find you. He will know your name. There will be something about how He speaks to you. If that happens, there is but one response, “Master.” Jesus lives! Scriptures: Matt. 28:1-20; Mark 16:1-20; Luke 24:1-53; John 20:1-25 Pastor Clifford Hurst

LAYING OUT THE RED CARPET

This week, while studying the Triumphant Entry passages in preparation for Palm Sunday, my thought became ensnared by one integral detail of the narrative—the people’s taking off their outer garments and strewing them before Jesus on the path the donkey carrying Him would travel. What highlights their actions to me is two facts of that time. First, their garments were much to be valued. Check it out in Scripture how wealth was often measured in clothing in an era when textile material was handmade and rare. The second was the mode of transportation and the condition of roads in those times. Roads were not concreted or asphalted. They were dirt. The mode of transportation—donkey, horse, oxen, mule, emitted a form of exhaust that ended on the road and not in the air. Jesus’ donkey did not step off asphalt onto their garments but with hooves filthy from the dirt and animal “exhaust” of the road, that donkey stepped on the valued and needed garments of those who had strewn them before Jesus. They had blanketed Jesus’ path in keeping with the custom of the day of welcoming and paying homage to a coming King or conqueror. It was their laying out the “red carpet.” Some things struck me about these folks’ actions: First, they gave--sacrificially. They had no assurance their garments would not by ruined by hoof and dirt rendering them unwearable or unsightly. Worship cost them something. It still does. It always does. Worship happens when we give of ourselves. Second, they had to step forward out of and away from the crowd. The crowds of people appear to have massed around Jesus. To spread one’s garment in the path would have required pressing one’s way out of the crowd in front of the crowd. Worship entails stepping out from the “crowd,” out of one’s comfort zone, away from the pressure of what others think. Third, they had to bend over. A simple toss from a standup position would not have resulted in the garment’s being spread over the path covering it in a manner that would accomplish the purpose of the gesture. One had to bow down towards the path and, thus, consequently before Jesus. Worship still cannot truly take place without the bowing of our heart, a humbling of ourselves before God. Lastly, having bent down to spread their garment, they then stood back up to praise. And praise they did. Waving palm branches and shouting hosannas they praised Jesus as King and Savior. Standing up and waving and shouting they were conspicuous. The enemies of Jesus disgruntled by the whole proceeding certainly noticed. But, the people were thinking, not of themselves, but only of Him. True worship will be expressed by unashamed, demonstrative praise. It is noted that they got loud with all that praise. Perhaps, it would be well for us and bring honor to Jesus if today, this Palm Sunday, we would follow the garment layers' example in welcoming Jesus among us: Give, step out, bow, and stand up to praise. Layout the red carpet. --Pastor Clifford Hurst

HELPING THE BREATH MINT INDUSTRY

We cannot begin to comprehend the severity and extent of the effects and consequences of the Great 2020-2021 COVID Lockdown/Shutdown. There are effects directly caused by the Shutdown that we would never think of. I was impressed by one of these when this week I read an article about Listerine. Now, this causality of the Shutdown on the surface is seemingly so trivial and inconsequential that I do not, by mentioning it, desire to in any way detract from or minimize the awful consequences such as deep depression, suicide, loss of employment, etc. But here it is: The sale of breath mints and breath strips and mouthwashes was down 40% during the Shutdown in one major company and 20% overall across all companies in the industry. That is huge—if you’re in or have an investment in that industry. Who would have thought of that? COVID hurt breath mint sales! Not coming together in close clusters with other people (and wearing facemasks too) meant not having to worry about halitotic breath. Not worried about bad breath means buying fewer breath mints. Of course, being a pastor, I always think of things in terms of the Church. During the Shutdown, the Church was often prohibited from gathering because of enforced directives and serious outbreaks. Also, some folks were reticent about gathering even if the doors were unlocked. That people did not gather together to pray, worship, hear the Word, and have fellowship, had to have had great consequential effects on them—all of which we are yet to discover and realize. I’m thankful for the role of Livestream during shutdown. It was a vital venue and connective link. Yet, I don’t believe anyone settled into his Lay-z-boy, cued the stream for his church’s service on his device, and then, just before the stream went live, grabbed a breath mint and inserted it in his mouth. Simple, I know, but you don’t need breath mints to watch a Livestream. Point is, there are other things, vital things, one needs, participates in, experiences, etc., in a live gathering that he never will over the Livestream. Of course, I am not dissing Livestream, nor those who have it as their only option. I am merely pointing out that there are extensive, wide-ranging effects, some we never have yet imagined, to one’s not gathering together with others in worship. No social gathering means fewer breath mints sales which means more stinky breath. Less involvement in worship means less_______________ which means more ________________. Whatever it is that fills that last blank, it is a negative for our life. I suppose that, if our bodies can have halitosis, so can our souls. But see, bad breath doesn’t matter much if you’re not around people. Likewise, there are many things that seem to stop mattering so much when you’re not coming to church. Things worse than bad breath. One thing is for sure, folks didn’t stop popping breath mints into their mouths because their breath had gotten better during the Shutdown. No. Their breath was as bad or worse--some gave up even brushing their teeth too. There just wasn’t someone around to point out to them that their breath stank. In life, there are those rude enough or kind enough to inform you when your breath stinks. A grandchild, when young, is unhampered in letting you know, “Grandpa, your breath stinks.” Spiritually speaking, whether we find it pleasant or not, in a gathering of the church, the Holy Spirit during worship, a brother or sister with loving concern, the minister by preaching the Word, someone, will tell us if our soul stinks. Hearing that, we know it’s time to pop in and suck on a spiritual breath mint. It’s time to pray. It’s time to repent. It’s time to pour out the abscesses of hurt, bitterness, etc., in our soul. Some have yet to make it back to their places of worship after the reopening of society. I would encourage you; get your vaccine (if you are so inclined), buy some breath mints, and come on back to the assembling of the fresh-breathed. Heart-rendered collective worship emits, even to God, a sweet-smelling scent. Who knew just how much coming to church helped us—and the breath mint industry?

Not His Job To Make Us Happy But To Get Us There

“Life is a journey.” This oft-repeated assessment of life has become hackneyed, yet, still, folks, as if they had just experienced a great epiphany, are stating it like they are disclosing arcane, eye-opening, life-changing sagacity. Ironically, for all their insistence that life is a journey, they continue to act as if they believe that life is sitting on a beach gazing out over the ocean, enjoying sun and surf, separated from the buzz, activity, and responsibility of real life back there on the other side of the ribbon of sand. On social media, by far, folks post more photos of sitting on the beach than hiking through the mountains. They reveal they believe that life should be a happy place, not a grueling trek. Folks want, by instant translation, to find themselves in their happy place. There is a happy place, but it takes a journey to get there. These days, the prevailing philosophy is “I should be happy.” I should make myself happy. My family and friends should make me happy. The government should make me happy. The Church should make me happy. God should make me happy. Last night I completed a biography of Roald Amundsen, arguably the greatest explorer of the 20th century. He was the first to traverse the infamous Northwest Passage on top of the world. He was the first to stand at the South Pole. He was the first to travel across the North Pole from Norway to Alaska. Each of those journeys was marked and filled with the horrible misery and suffering which the harsh, brutal Arctic and Antarctic never fail to exact. However tough and loyal his companions were whom Amundsen led on these exploratory, excruciating excursions, however, tough their public persona and recounting, their private journals, letters, and conversations were filled with descriptions of how miserable, frustrating, hardship-filled, and tedious the days of these journeys were. Reacting to this, the biographer made this note: “It wasn’t Amundsen’s job to make his men happy, but to lead them to victory, alive.” It wasn’t Amundsen’s job to make them happy but to get them there. Intact. Life is not one big “my happy place.” Life is a wilderness of harsh terrain we must journey through and across. But, for the believer, there is a promised happy place at the end of the journey. The believer is not trekking aimlessly through life on a journey that leads nowhere, ends nowhere. He is following Jesus. People conceive that it’s Jesus’ job to make them happy, right here, right now. Jesus’ “job” is not to make them happy. Jesus’ “job” is to lead them to victory, to the ultimate happy place. Interestingly, Amundsen’s men, who journaled so melancholily and critically of how miserable and awful the days were while they were experiencing them, spoke and wrote fondly and warmly of those same days after the journey had been completed and victory had been secured. No journey can be that awful if it gets you to victory, joy, eternal life. Nursing homes and other care facilities began opening up for pastoral visits recently. Last week I visited three folks in two different assisted living facilities. Before praying before departing, I read the same passage at both places. John 14:1-6. “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God…I go to prepare a place…the way you know…” Both times, as I began to read the residents began to quote the passage with me as I did so. They did it reflexively and probably did not think to themselves why the passage so resonated with them. Yet, the conviction was in the atmosphere of our “two or three” gathering; there was a happy place, and they were headed there. That happy place was at the end of their journey. We certainly can just sit in our happy place--when we get there. And, Jesus will get us there. It’s not His job to make us happy, but to get us there. And could it be, that we too, when get there will reflect back fondly and gratefully on the rough days of our journey? P.S. Do you prefer beach-sitting or mountain/wilderness-hiking?

LOPPING OFF EARS

"How are folks going to hear the Truth if we go around cutting their ears off." Memory fails me in quoting him verbatim, but professor and apologist John Lennox said something like this while making a passing comment about Peter’s slashing off Malchus' ear--Malchus, the servant of the high priest who was part of the party who arrested Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. This seminal, unique thought has been growing in my head for the past three weeks. I hate to say it, but I believe we Christians have too often been guilty of doing just that--lopping off folks' ears with the swords of our internet screeds, ranting posts, and ad hominem attacks on those with whom we disagree, particularly on political matters. I do not doubt folk's motives any more than I question Peter's. Odd thing is, Peter very probably acted out of deep devotion for Christ. Yet, acting out of devotion for Christ, he acted contrary to the nature of Christ. Many Christians act out of devotion, passionate patriotism, and genuine alarm. One says, “I posted that attack because I was devoted to my choice of presidential candidate and his conservative true-to-the-constitution convictions. I get it. But Peter was devoted to Jesus when he hacked off Malchus’ ear; nevertheless, Jesus rebuked him for it. It is futile for us to expect unbelievers to hear the Gospel we share if, prior to sharing it, we have hacked off their ears with our made-personal trolling of their posts and caustic comments. One’s beliefs may reveal the ignorance of modern thought. But the moment we call him a fool, we have lopped off his ears. Another’s political stance may embrace ignorance, but by calling him an idiot, we have severed his ear. And these are benign examples. Jesus, rather than lopping off folks’ ears, scanned the crowds looking for folks with them, “Who has ears to hear.” He wanted people to have ears to hear the Gospel. He reattached Malchus’ ear lopped off by Peter. It is doubtful that Malchus minus an ear, hacked off by a disciple, would have ever listened to the Gospel shared by a disciple. But, Malchus with an ear miraculously reattached by Jesus, I think, definitely would. He’d want to hear about this Jesus who’d given him back his ear. What does all this about this ear lopping say to us? First, Christians should have ears themselves: Folks are in bad enough shape without our lopping off their ears. Spiritually seen, most people are earless already—and, sadly, among them are many Christians. Imagine rising to speak to a crowd of people and each of them is earless. Grotesque indeed. But, not only are they earless, they have huge mouths—huge from use; all they do is talk, talk, talk. Perhaps, I should say, they have huge index fingers, huge from pecking at a keyboard. Allegorically, I say some people have no ears but huge mouths because they are quick and constant in spouting off but slow to hear. As Apostle James points out, this is the opposite of how a Christian should be: “Let every Christian be swift to hear and slow to speak.” I believe that the first step towards having unbelievers listen to our sharing of the Gospel is for Christians themselves to have ears—for Christians to show a willingness to listen to others before reacting with vitriolic vituperation. Second, Christians should fervently want unbelievers to have ears. It is not enough for a Christian that he has heard the Gospel that liberated him; a Christian desires that others hear it too. A Christian before going off on a tirade should ask, “Is it worth my lopping off this person’s ear with my political rant against him if it will leave him earless, incapable of hearing the Gospel?” It is funny but not funny how lopping off someone’s ear can leave such a bad taste in his mouth for the Gospel. Calling people names, insulting their level of intelligence, disparaging their character never put them in a frame of mind to hear the Gospel. Third, Christians should be circumspectly conscientious about saying or doing anything that would make them guilty of or complicit in lopping off the ears of those without the Gospel. The scriptural query, “How shall they hear without a preacher?” is a pertinently valid question. It is also a valid question to ask, “How shall they hear if we have lopped off their ears?” So many have no ears for spiritual things. We for sure don’t want to lop off the ears of those who do. It may be passion, patriotism, devotion, and zeal that lops off an opposing party’s ear. But it is Christlikeness that seeks to reattach the ear lopped off.

“CAN’T WE HAVE ANY HEROES?”

Although it had been percolating for months, news of apologist Ravi Zacharias’ sexual improprieties, recently investigated and verified, has become ubiquitous. Discussing this apologist’s posthumously-revealed moral failures with a younger minister, I found myself expressing great sadness and disappointment with a rhetorical question: I asked, “Can’t we have any heroes?” I realized that’s an odd sentiment for an old preacher to express. But though I was feeling the loss, I was thinking of younger ministers everywhere. Not only had they lost another hero, but they will also have to live and minister under the stigma his failure has created. They don’t need my empathy, but I felt it nonetheless. It’s the same I feel during presidential elections when I say, “I feel sorry for new, young voters today; they don’t have a Ronald Reagan to vote for as I did when I came of voting age.” I was thinking of younger ministers because I was also remembering the time when I was a young minister and news broke of a major Pentecostal minister’s moral failure, news that shocked the classic Pentecostal world. Such letdown. Such disappointment. Such letting the air out of the ministry balloon. Such sucking of the oxygen out of the room of anticipation, vision, hopes, and dreams. But I wasn’t thinking of ministers alone. Many non-clergy Christians also held these Christian leaders in high esteem. Ravi and other fallen ministers were their heroes too. “Can’t we have any heroes?” I first answered my own question with “Maybe we aren’t supposed to have heroes.” If we don’t have heroes, we won’t be so often disappointed. But having heroes is inescapably human. We need folks to admire and emulate. We need to see the ideal embodied. We need to see excellence performed. Heroes inspire us and give us something to which to aspire. Second, I pondered, “Maybe having heroes is people worship.” Perhaps, we shouldn’t have heroes at all, not only because we are likely to be disappointed, but also because having heroes is akin to worshiping people. Since we are commanded to worship God only, maybe the really spiritual thing to do is to say “God is my Hero,” and leave it there. Yet, God doesn’t seem to think we shouldn’t have human heroes. He gave us a Bible full of choices of them. He filled the hall of one whole chapter, Hebrews 11, with portraits of heroes of faith. Admittedly, it is an error that many make; they worship their human heroes. Yet, we don’t have to worship heroes to be inspired by them. Next, I wondered: “Maybe we are not to have contemporary heroes only dead ones”—ones dead long enough that no posthumous revelations will discredit and tarnish the esteem we had for them. Maybe. But we need to see the exceptional modeled right now in our world, our times, our circumstances. Non-living heroes may excite and inspire. But so often we cannot relate to them. They’re from another time and another world. To believe we can model them, we also need heroes who live in our time and world, not just those from another time and world. My next thought seemed to be leading towards some kind of answer to our hero quandary: “Maybe we are looking in the wrong places for the wrong things in the wrong people.” Technology has brought the wider world to us. We have instant access to the stage of popularity across which parades those of exceptional talent, abilities, aptitude, and performance. We’re not even required to judge for ourselves whether these are worthy to be heroes. We are told they are by the thousands of followers of their channels, the tens of thousands that fill their venues, the millions of likes of their videocasts, and the hundreds of subscribers who share them. By acclaim of their popularity, these who become our heroes are those of extraordinary talent, charisma, and ability—their character is rarely a factor since it is unknown. In a sense, these heroes are but images of people and not real-life people. The Apostle Paul encourages believers to esteem the laborers and leaders among them. It is implied that they esteem them because they know them. (I Th 5:12-13). Though not sure-proof, personally knowing people in shared real-life experiences vets them far better than simply being impressed by their online persona. “Can’t we have any heroes?” Yes! But lest we set ourselves up for further disappointment when yet another hero fails, we must remember: Our heroes are only instruments. If they have/are doing something great in the Kingdom of God, God is the one doing that thing. Our hero is, in the end, only the channel, tool, instrument used by God when He does the thing. Our heroes, however well they perform, preach, or sing, are not the force that makes a difference in people. The force is in the message, the Gospel of Christ, that they share. Any lasting, eternal change does not come from their talent or personality but from the power of the Gospel itself. Our heroes are worthy of our following and emulating only in as much they follow and emulate Christ. He is our true Hero. He’s The Hero—I started to say “behind the hero”—ahead of the hero. Any hero we follow should be wholly following Christ. Our heroes are not best chosen from the popularity pantheon of the big names, the widely known, the exceptionally talented on the wider stage of the world, but from those faithfully consistently serving God in our own homes, churches, and communities. Don’t look for charisma. Look for faithfulness. That’s the metric God uses to judge the stature of a person. Certainly, we should judge our heroes as He does. For every well-known Christian figure who falls into moral failure, there are millions of faithful laborers in their hidden corner of the Kingdom who never morally fail, never violate the trust put in them, never shame the role they fill, never err from the truth. It may sound platitudinal, but we would be better served if our heroes were chosen from the faithful folks we know. The faithful mother of small children, the faithful elder who has never varied in his devotion to Christ, the faithful Sunday School teacher who has taught three generations, the faithful local pastor who consistently studies and preaches the Word, the faithful youth pastor, the faithful church-secretary, the faithful deacon, all serving us among us. These often unheralded, unseen, faithful servants of God, these are heroes we can and should have. Can’t we have any heroes? We do have them. We’ve just been looking for them in the wrong places.