“I want the truth!” – John 1:1-18

“I want the truth!” These words express what I believe is a universal desire. We want truth. We want, not just a truth—but the truth. We want to know. We want what is hidden and concealed to reveal itself. We want to know the secrets, purpose, and meaning of this life. We want to live in the dark no longer. We want to stand in the light of truth.

The Apostle John tells us that here—on Christmas Day—we have received this gift. We have received what we have been yearning for, for thousands of years. We have received the truth: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

The truth has come. Jesus of Nazareth, the helpless child lying in a feeding trough, has come. The truth has taken on human form. One of the most abstract concepts in any language—“truth”—has become embodied, has taken on concrete and tangible form.

John wrote in the opening of his first epistle: “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life” (1 John 1:1). John knew truth better than almost anyone. He had been privileged to be a witness from the beginning. He had been there shortly after Jesus had been baptized—he had been among the first disciples called by Jesus. He was there for the healings, for the teachings, for the miracles. He was there when Jesus boldly claimed: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He was there when Jesus boldly rode into Jerusalem with a joyous reception. John heard Jesus. John saw Jesus. John touched Jesus with his own hands. John heard, saw, and touched the truth. John was able to point and say, “There goes the truth!”

This is what we want, right? We want to hear, see, and touch the truth. But are we aware of the implications of what we desire, when we proclaim, “I want the truth”? Listen to Jesus’ words in John’s gospel: “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31-32).

This sounds great. We want to be free—and this desire often drives our lives. When people are young and bold, they run after truth idealistically—they fight for the freedom of truth. We see this in almost all youth movements. Activists for change and truth tend to be young, naïve, and inexperienced. But then something usually seems to happen. People age—they get a little older. People experience life—they get their hopes and dreams stepped on and their hearts broken. And through this, something changes. The fire seems to die. What I think most often happens is seen clearly in the most famous scene of the movie “A Few Good Men.” Lt. Kaffee, as played by Tom Cruise, is cross-examining Col. Jessep, as played by Jack Nicholson. Lt. Kaffee pushes Col. Jessep hard for what he thinks he wants, he wants to know what happened: “I want the truth!” And Nicholson’s character famously responds: “You can’t handle the truth!” People dig for truth and then they finally unearth it…and what they find shatters their idealism and leaves them confused and disheartened. They can’t handle the truth.

The journalist Herbert Agar said, “The truth that makes men free is for the most part the truth which men prefer not to hear.” Our desire, our bold proclamation “I want the truth!” we so often abandon because we don’t like what we find. We become discouraged and jaded by what we discover and stop our quest for truth altogether. We find the truth but we can’t handle it.

The Apostle John, as we have seen, was young, brash, and naïve when he started following Jesus. And everything that happened at the beginning fed his zeal and idealism. But as Jesus’ ministry progressed—after Jesus entered Jerusalem for the last time—things started to change. John had been there when it looked like Jesus would be accepted and praised by the people and crowned as their king. But now he was there when things began to get controversial and started spinning out of control. He was there for the ominous foot washing and final supper in that upper room when Jesus said: “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34-35). He was there in the garden when Jesus started acting very stressed and aloof, praying to God as though he was about to leave the world. He was there when the soldiers suddenly appeared, weapons drawn, and Jesus was betrayed by Judas (one of his own!) and arrested.

It was there in that moment, in the Garden of Gethsemane, that John finally began to see the truth for what it was—and it was difficult to stomach. Here was his master and teacher, being arrested. Here was his good friend Peter striking out with the sword and cutting off the ear of the high priest’s servant in defense of Jesus. Here was Jesus going quietly before his captors and ordering Peter to lay down his sword. Here was the one he had hoped would be king, getting treated like a dirty criminal—and he wasn’t even defending himself. This was too much. The truth of what he now saw in the life of Jesus was too much to handle—all his hopes and expectations were crumbling to the ground. And so, with the rest of his fellow disciples, he fled into the darkness.

But something compelled John to continue to watch from a distance. He may have wanted no part of this truth that he now saw, but he had a compulsion to see how this disaster would all end. He was there while Jesus was questioned relentlessly by the high priest. He was there as his friend Peter continually denied knowing Jesus to those who wanted to identify Peter as one of his followers. He was there when Jesus was put on trial by Pilate. And in this moment where any talk of the truth seemed absurd, Jesus boldly asserted to Pilate: “For this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth” (John 18:37). And who among us could fault Pilate—John certainly couldn’t—for responding, “What is truth?” (John 18:38).

And then John was there as Jesus was hauled off to be mocked, spit on, beaten, and tortured. He was there as Jesus was sentenced to death by the popular demand of his own people crying: “Crucify! Crucify!” (John 19:6). He was there as Jesus carried his own cross down that crowded but lonely path. He was there as the nails were driven through Jesus’ hands and feet, one by one. He was there as Jesus hung from the cross and suffered in agony. He was there as Jesus breathed his last. He was there as the spear pierced through Jesus’ lifeless side. He was there as Jesus’ dead body was taken down and placed all alone in a tomb. He was there as the disciples gathered in mourning to ask the looming question: “What now?”

The truth was too hard to handle—the man John had devoted his life to was dead—Jesus was dead. John’s idealism was finally crushed. In light of all that had just gone down, why would anyone want anything to do with Jesus’ proclamation of the truth? How could this man Jesus—this man who was rejected and abandoned by all, this man who raised no fist of retaliation and no voice of defense, this man who was beaten, mocked, and killed—how could this man claim to have been born in order to testify to the truth?

But then everything changed that morning that Mary Magdalene startled John out of a daze by declaring that the Lord’s body had been taken out of the tomb. John was immediately up and running, heading to explore the empty tomb with Peter, wondering what on earth had happened. And then, he was there when Jesus appeared alive, raised from the dead, with his resurrected body, revealing the healed scars in his hands, feet, and side. And it was here in this moment that John finally saw the truth in it’s all beauty and glory. Before, the truth had been too ugly and hard to handle, but now, all that—including the bloody and shameful death—had been transformed. This changed everything! John had heard Jesus teach. John had seen Jesus die. And now, John had touched the risen Jesus with his own hands. John heard, saw, and touched the truth, and John was now truly free because of it.

So, what about you? Are you bold to declare “I want the truth!”? And if so, can you handle the truth that you will find? What do you do with the truth once you have known it, seen it, heard it, understood it? Are you too intimidated by it to make it govern your whole life? Too scared of what the truth demands from you?

This Christmas, you are being confronted once again with the truth. Jesus of Nazareth was born in a lowly stable 2000 years ago. He came embodying the truth of God. He came to show you what humanity is meant to be—he came to transform you into God’s new creation. Will you turn a deaf ear to Jesus and the truth? Will you keep Jesus and the truth at an arm’s length? Will you stay in your comfortable and safe, middle-class, American existence? Or, are you ready to listen to Jesus? Are you ready to let the truth of Jesus transform and take over your life? Are you ready, like John, to step into the true freedom of the truth?

Jesus tells you that if you hold to his teaching, then you will be in the truth and you will be free. His teaching is this: “Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:12-13). This is the truth. It is hard and difficult. Never in my wildest dreams would I have supposed that the truth would require me to give up and lay down my very own life. But through the witness of John and all the apostles about Jesus’ life, you and I are now face to face with this truth.

So, you want the truth? Then, love one another—lay down your life for the sake of those around you, sacrifice your entire life for others. But can you handle this truth? If the baby Jesus who was born this day lies dead in the grave, then no you cannot. But God did indeed raise Jesus from the dead. John witnessed this. John heard, saw, and touched the risen Jesus who will raise your body from the dead on the last day. And John has passed this good news on to you. Therefore, desire the truth—seek after it, live in it, let it rule your life—want the truth because now, by the resurrection of Jesus Christ, you can handle the truth. Amen.

“The Advent of Freedom” – Isaiah 61:1-11

The time has come. The day of salvation is here. The time spoken of so long ago by the prophet Isaiah. You stand, today, in a privileged position in world history—God’s servant, as spoken of in Isaiah, has come!

Has this fully set in with you? Do you realize all that this means? We don’t sit here today in church because we are just going through the motions of life. We don’t sit here because it is a good investment for raising healthy families. We don’t sit here because this is what we have always done. We are here because something has happened—something big—something huge—something that turns life upon its head!

Your ancestors were slaves. They were oppressed. They were held captive by many different masters. They lived under burdens too great to bear. They crawled through life hoping and praying for something better, hoping that they might see a day of change, a day of freedom.

That day is here—right now! Do not miss it! Do not sit there daydreaming, asleep, or uninterested! This word is for you. Listen to it, absorb it, let it transform you: You…are…free! Regardless of how you may feel, regardless of what you see—you…are…free!

God’s servant, Jesus of Nazareth, has come “to bind up the brokenhearted.” You are free from the brokenhearted-ness of your past. You are free from your poor decisions. You are free from your sins and mistakes. You are free from divorce and broken relationships. You are free from the pain that others have caused you. You are free from every injustice done to you. Your past can no longer haunt you—it is transformed—you now know the end of the story and your past is now free to be an important part of that story.

God’s servant, Jesus of Nazareth, has come “to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.” You are free in your present situation, despite what you may see. Free from the rulers, powers, and authorities, which place themselves in the place of God and try to dominate your life. You are free from the world’s politics. You are free from your government. You are free from your boss. You are free from your money. You are free from your possessions. You are free from the capitalistic rat race. You are free from all oppression and inequality. You are free from racism. You are free from violence and abuse. You are free from retaliation and revenge. You are free from self-defense. You are free from all forms of hate. You are free from loneliness and depression. You are free from all disease, illness, and chronic pain. You are free from the desires and cravings of your flesh. You are free from your pride and ego. Jesus has come and bestowed on you a “crown of beauty” and anointed you with the “oil of gladness.” You “will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.” You stand out as a beacon of hope and freedom in this world of slavery and brokenness. As men gather around false ideologies of freedom, which are only disguised forms of slavery—you bear witness to true freedom.

God’s servant, Jesus of Nazareth, has come so that you can “rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated.” You are free from the unknowns of the future. You are free from all worry and anxiety. You are free for the future. You are free to work towards and build a future in accord with God’s will. You are free to be a new creation in the midst of an old creation that is dying away. With Isaiah you have been clothed in the new creation: “He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.” In Jesus Christ you are free to be a signpost of God’s new creation.

God will indeed create new life in the midst of the old. “For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up before all nations.” From the soil of this world of suffering, pain, and injustice, God will cause new life of justice to spring forth. In walking in the freedom of Jesus Christ, you are that new life—regardless of what you may feel and see, I say it again—you are that new life, you are a new creation in Jesus Christ. God has defeated death. The tomb is empty. Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead. Death no longer holds you. Death can no longer be used to manipulate you. Death has been defeated. You will rise from death on the last day. God is your future and he has a new and wonderful thing in store for you and all creation. You are free to live boldly now, pushing toward that future. You are the “light of the world.”  You are the “city on a hill.”

Therefore, you are free to be the new creation that God has made you in Jesus Christ. You are free to love—and when you love you are free. You are free to bind yourself in service to all mankind. As Paul said, “Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone” (1 Corinthians 9:19). Therefore, love boldly. Do the extraordinary. Don’t be like the dying world that only loves those who love them—follow in the footsteps of Jesus, love like he did—love your enemies. Love those who love no one and whom no one loves. Love those who do not forgive in return, who hate you when you love them, who insult you when you bless them. Love your religious, political, and personal enemies. Love those who are putting you to death. Live in the love of Jesus Christ himself—live the way of the cross. You are free to step beyond the world’s ways and to receive victory over the world through the way of the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Go forth and love! You are free! Amen.

“You Ungrateful Wretch” – Luke 17:11-19

“You ungrateful wretch.” These words haunted my father when he was a child. When his actions and attitude left his mother frustrated and without recourse, she would call it as it was—she would point out that he was an “ungrateful wretch.” My father now recalls how much he resented those words as a child—that they stung deep down. And who among us can argue with him on that? These words seem outright atrocious to us. In this world of niceties and tolerance the very idea of saying something like this to someone, especially our own child, and meaning it, absolutely blows our mind. It simply looks like verbal abuse on the surface, but the more I think about it, the more I am not sure. I am reminded of Jesus’ own harsh words. Jesus’ words about Herod, “Go tell that fox” (Luke 13:32), or Jesus’ words to the Pharisees and religious leaders when he calls them “fools,” “snakes,” “unmarked graves,” “hypocrites,” “blind guides,” or “brood of vipers.” Sometimes we need harsh words like these to teach us a hard truth about the world or about ourselves. Self-awareness does not come easy and what we discover is very often unpleasant and difficult to swallow.

Our text for today, if we look closely, is a text that does such a thing. This story from Jesus’ life I have heard every Thanksgiving, and, for me at least, it has often left me wanting more. I have always felt that the explanations given were too clean and too easy when in fact the text should hit us right between the eyes like the words “you ungrateful wretch.” Let me set the scene…

Jesus’ mind was made up. His destination was clear. He was between Samaria and Galilee and he was headed directly to Jerusalem—the city of his forefathers, the seat of the Temple of God. This is where his message needed to be proclaimed, where his message needed to be lived out. Confrontation with the religious authorities was inevitable. They had been skeptical of him before, and now they were beginning to show signs of violence towards him.  But he had a job to do—he was on a mission. He was here to show them that God’s rule had arrived—that the time of man’s rule was up; they would need to relinquish their crowns, they would need to lay down their swords.

Just as Jesus was about to enter the next village, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by spine-tingling cries: “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” He looked around. His gaze focused in on the group of men—ten in all. There they stood at a distance. The Jewish designation for these men was not just a name, there was no misnomer here—these men were clearly unclean. The clothes that clung to their withered forms were nothing but rags. Their limbs were gnarled and raw. Open wounds bled freely in some places, in others the scarring took on twisted shapes all its own. The sight was heart wrenching, but the grossness threatened to shove aside any compassion—this was not the way humanity was supposed to live—if this even was humanity. Jesus knew this was not right. This was broken, this was out of order, all was not right with the world—that was crystal clear. Jesus’ heart went out to them. “Go, show yourselves to the priests”—were his only words.

Confused and unsure what this meant, the men decided they had nothing better to do—so they headed out. Along the way there, the ones in the back began to notice something strange. The skin of the men in front of them was starting to clear up, the wounds were beginning to heal. They quickly looked down at their own hands and feet. They couldn’t believe their eyes—they were healing! This realization spread through them like wildfire. At once, the pace of the group quickened—they couldn’t get to the priests quick enough—salvation was at hand, this life as exiles and outcasts was almost over! Suddenly, however, one stopped dead in his tracks. He called out to the rest: “Wait! We need to go back. Jesus deserves our thanks.” The others replied: “Nonsense! We are finally as we should be, God has finally reversed this injustice. Jesus told us to go see the priests and that’s what we are doing.” Alone he stood. His companions were fading into the distance. He knew what he needed to do. He turned back. And he started to run.

The memory of his companions soon faded and the joy of his situation soon overtook him. Old songs and chants soon came to the surface—he shouted and cried aloud to God, praising him for the undeserved mercy he had just received. He had been as good as dead, left alone without the help and support of the community, and now he was whole—he was back in the community! As he approached Jesus, he threw himself at Jesus’ feet, thanking him over and over. The words he stammered seemed impotent and inadequate but he couldn’t help himself. This gift was too much. Who was he to deserve such mercy?

Jesus was startled by the scene. Here this man he had just healed thanked him, groveling at his feet seemingly without dignity, honor, or self-respect. And then things became even more baffling. Through the jumbled thanks Jesus heard an accent—this man was no Galilean, this man was a Samaritan! Stunned, Jesus asked the man and his disciples: “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” The disciples were bewildered and speechless. They looked around aimlessly at the surreal situation. The man who had been cleansed didn’t even register the question—he was too consumed with his praise for God. Jesus then grabbed the cleansed man’s attention and said to him: “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

This story is quite remarkable. Ten healed lepers—one thankful—and that one a foreigner, an outsider. The nine others, who were most likely Jewish, were nowhere to be found. They had no need to give thanks to Jesus—sure, they were happy and elated to be healed, but they were God’s chosen people, Jesus is what they had deserved all along and had now finally received.

Therefore, the message for us today is this: Be careful of being an “insider,” of being in a position of privilege, of being a “good Christian,” because you will very likely fall into the trap of the nine lepers, the trap of being an “ungrateful wretch.” If we are honest with ourselves that is exactly what the nine lepers were in the story—ungrateful wretches. They are often praised for obeying Jesus’ command to go see the priests but in reality that says little about them. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And they were desperate since they had been thrown out and ostracized from the community. But once they were healed—once the desperation was over—once they suddenly had prosperity—the true character of their hearts was immediately revealed. Fred Danker analyzed it well: “The other nine also had faith that Jesus could heal them but they exploited Jesus for the gift; they were not in the market for inward change.” In other words—even the demons know that Jesus is powerful and can heal, but that is not what true faith is about. True faith goes much deeper than this. True faith is intertwined with gratitude.

In her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle Barbara Kingsolver describes her family’s yearlong pledge to eat only locally-produced foods. Speaking of the incident Barbara talks about their discovery of gratitude:

“For me, the biggest miracle is the fact that this project, which may have seemed to us in the beginning to be an exercise in deprivation, very quickly guided us through a paradigm shift. Very quickly, we came to see this way of living with a sense of gratitude. We moved from beginning each meal by asking. ‘What do I feel like?’ to asking, ‘What do we have?’ We would look at what’s coming in — what’s wonderful and abundant right now — and work from there.”

The shift she speaks of is simple: it’s no longer about “what I want” or “what I deserve”, it’s now about “what have we been given?” For some strange reason human beings have the awful tendency to turn bounty, goodness, and prosperity into “not enough.” We have mastered the art of being ungrateful wretches.  Mark Twain said it beautifully: “If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.”

Mankind cannot seem to handle prosperity—we strike out to bite the hand that feeds us. You have probably seen it all over the place—in your own life, in your children, in a homeless person, in your coworkers—the tendency to take a gift and then bad mouth it behind the scenes, because it wasn’t the right thing, or good enough, or enough at all. We may be thankful for the big things we receive in life, but are we thankful for the small, insignificant things? Dietrich Bonhoeffer said it clearly: “We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the small gifts we receive daily. How can God entrust great things to those who will not gratefully receive the little things from God’s hand?” If we fall into complaining about what we “don’t have” or how what we have isn’t “good enough” or how God hasn’t answered our prayers to our liking, then we have lost sight of God.

So how can we overcome our tendency to be ungrateful wretches? And more deeply and honestly, how can we learn to be thankful in a world full of brokenness, suffering, and pain? Ellen Vaughn recognized this hard reality of life in her book Radical Gratitude, saying: “We cannot look at the child who has been raped and offer the theological maxim that God will draw something good from out of this. We cannot think of the children consumed by the fires of Auschwitz and Hiroshima and manufacture some easy gratitude. Gratitude does not take away the horrors of violence.” Gratitude cannot and must not overlook the tragedy of this life, though Vaughn continues: “Death makes it clear that each day of life is an opulent gift.”

We see this opulent gift of life most poignantly in Jesus Christ. He embodied gratefulness in his life—his life that was riddled with pain, suffering, and brokenness. In the face of a world that was spinning out of control around him, Jesus remained focused on all the gifts and blessings that his Father showered upon him. He remained obedient to the Father amidst a world that was rejecting him and putting him to death. It is here in Jesus that God’s love, bounty, and mercy are most clearly displayed. In Jesus gratitude knew no bounds. In Jesus gratitude was able to embrace even pain and suffering—not making light of this pain and suffering, but moving through the pain and suffering to God’s grace on the other side. We do not thank God for the suffering and tragedy in this life—we instead thank God in the midst of the suffering and tragedy of this life. Through gratitude even the darkest corners of this life are penetrated by God’s love. To be truly thankful means to say “yes” to all that God gives and takes away—to cry out with Job: “The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised” (Job 1:21). Gratitude embraces all aspects of our lives—even the darkness of our pasts—because gratitude knows the future. Through gratitude the brokenness of our pasts can become fruitful for the present and guide us into the future life God has in store for us after the resurrection of our bodies.

And so to be certain, gratitude does not rest complacent in the present, but pushes forward to God’s future. In Jesus we see that gratitude leads to generosity. Gratitude is not stagnant—it is active. Gratitude is not the nine lepers continuing on without returning to Jesus—gratitude is the one leper returning to actively praise God. Therefore, gratitude is not contentedly sitting at your thanksgiving table thanking God for what you have, while there are those around you whose table is empty. To thank God for what you have while doing nothing to help those who are without is hypocrisy. In Jesus we see that true gratitude passes on the love of God that we have experienced to others. Gratitude bears fruit by generously giving to others so that they too may praise God.

So, “you ungrateful wretch.” My dad now looks back on these words with a sort of fondness. Through the wisdom of a life of experience he now sees how right his mother was—and that she has taught him a valuable lesson that has remained with him when so much else has faded away. The poignant words, “you ungrateful wretch,” are a consistent reminder of our tendency to take advantage of the many gifts we have been given—to feel a sense of entitlement. But we do not despair in the face of this, for God came to us through Jesus when we were ungrateful wretches, and now you and I have been given new life and it is our turn to go forth giving thanks and praise to God by filling the tables of those who have none. Therefore, this Thanksgiving we not only say thanks to God, we live out our thanks to God by passing on the many blessings we have received. Thanks be to God! Amen.