I don’t know if you have ever noticed, but on the first Easter morning everyone is running. In John’s Gospel, we read how there is a great deal of dashing about. Note how folks were racing to and from the tomb.
First, there is Mary Magdalene. She is first to arrive at the tomb and she sees how the stone in front of the tomb had been rolled away. But what does she do? She starts running. Not that she believes at this point, that comes later, but in the darkness of the morning, she begins running back to tell the rest of the disciples that Jesus’ body is gone (20:1).
But as she is sprinting back, she meets Peter and the one who is called the beloved disciple. She tells them what she had seen, or didn’t see, and then they break out into a run.
Mary is running away from the tomb, but now Peter and the beloved disciple are running to the tomb.
John says that these two disciples didn’t just run together, they ran against each other. In fact, they get into some sort of footrace, sprinting – one gaining on the other, and then other falling behind and gaining again – but toward what?
Some scholars suggest that there was some kind of rivalry between Peter and the beloved disciple. John says that it is Peter who is the leader of the disciples, the one who is ready to speak up on most occasions, but that it was the beloved disciple, whoever he was, maybe John himself, who seemed closet to Jesus’ heart.[1]
Whatever the case, they ran to see who would arrive first.
Yet, surely, there is something within them telling them that, in this strange moment, they are running toward some new, some different possibility, a future that was arriving faster than they were running. Can you imagine running toward something like that?
Easter is that moment when we find ourselves running! Yes, we run to and from all kinds of things, but on Easter we run toward Christ, toward the One who meets us in unexpected ways, just long enough to surprise and slow us down, toward the One who wants to call us by name and greet us with a new hello!

Pastor Andy Kinsey

           At the beginning of the most important week in the Christian faith, we are at that inflection point where the cheering crowds along the streets of Jerusalem will stop, giving way to a jeering mob. The memories of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee will fade as the forces of political and religious power collude to eliminate him in Jerusalem.
          An overnight sensation in Galilee, Jesus will now face his biggest challenge yet. In Galilee, people knew Jesus for his healings, his feeding the multitudes, his teachings, his miracles; he captivated rich and poor alike. Yes, there were those who opposed Jesus, but it was typically in the context of argument, which was a Jewish way of seeking what God was doing in the light of the law and the prophets.
         Those images, however, fall away as Jesus rides through the gates of Holy City on a colt and a donkey (21:30.) The crowds are shouting, “Hosanna in the highest,” or “God saves,” with palm branches and cloaks before him. Excitement is in the air. There is this expectation that something big is going to happen, but what? God will save, true, but from what?
          The cheering did not last long. The tide against Jesus begins to turn, as Matthew indicates, with the city “in turmoil” (21:9). Indeed, there seems to be confusion as to who Jesus is. Even the religious leaders are asking, “Who is this man?” whose caravan stops traffic and upends business. Yet, the crowds are quite clear that the man on the donkey is a prophet from Nazareth in Galilee (21:11).
           Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the religious leaders become more open in their attacks against Jesus: they see how the crowds are reacting, and they are fearful of how Jesus might excite them. It is Passover, after all; the city is already abuzz.
      Palm Sunday is the day when the Passion of Jesus begins. It is a time that ushers in Holy Week. In terms of our discipleship, it is a time of saying goodbye to the old ways and hello to the new, noting the cost of it all: Jesus’ life. Palm Sunday is a time of turning and realizing what the love of God encompasses – a cross and a tomb, God’s ultimate goodbye. 

Pastor Andy Kinsey

I love looking up at the sky on a clear, dark, night and seeing the velvet black canvas dotted with beautiful light but I do not like walking down a dark street alone at night.  I love the warmth and sound of a campfire as the wood pops and crackles but I do not like having to make a run in the dark for the tent or the bathroom.  I don’t like walking into a dark house or room but I love the sound of the house at night when all is dark.  I don’t like waking up when it's still dark, but I like having coffee and quiet before the world gets noisy.  What I have come to realize then is that we can’t have one without the other.  We wouldn’t know it was dark if it wasn’t for light or vice versa.  
Artists capture such truth when they create beautiful images and scenes that would lack detail, depth, and emotion without the contrast or play of light and dark.  Consider your favorite songs.  Some of the best and most meaningful lyrics use the interaction of light and dark to create a poetic and musical connection to life’s most breathtaking and heartbreaking moments.  Light does not cast out darkness, but rather, it reveals to us what we can not see.  It shows us what we stub our toes on or keep stumbling over.   
What would happen if we approached darkness and light with such understanding?  What might we learn or come to appreciate if we recognized a different kind of relationship between darkness and light?  How might our thoughts be stretched, our emotions enhanced, or our souls transformed, if we looked upon darkness as a gift to light and light a gift unto darkness?  
The writer of John gives us a story that invites us to do just that, the story of Lazarus.  The first twelve chapters of John’s gospel are referred to as “the book of signs” and the raising of Lazarus is perched at the pinnacle of these signs.  It is considered the ultimate sign or miracle and it follows six previous signs that are amazing in and of themselves.  That makes the raising of Lazarus, number seven, a number that represents fulfillment or completeness.
Each “sign” or miracle is like the building blocks that make up a bigger story and then the raising of Lazarus, puts a final exclamation mark on one of the most important chapters of Jesus’ ministry; a bold, all caps, impressive font kind of exclamation mark and reveals the fullness of who Jesus is.  This event reveals the totality of the authority, power, purpose, love, imagination, and creativity of God, contained in his one and only son, Jesus. 
 Is it any wonder then, that following this event, the plot to kill Jesus became not just another item toward the bottom of the agenda list, but rather the plot to kill Jesus became THEE agenda of the Pharisees and religious leaders?  The story of Lazarus,  brought together just how powerful, important, and influential Jesus’ message of hope, mercy, and love was, NOT just for a select few, but for all.  It brought to light what was in the darkness that so many could not or would not see.  In turn then, it set in motion the actions that led to the darkest hours to come for Jesus and his closest followers; the arrest, trial, crucifixion, and death of Jesus.  AND it also made way for the most brilliant love light to appear three days later when Jesus rose from the grave. 
It is a message telling us that there are both people who are spiritually dead, in need of new life, and there are times when Jesus’ followers must walk through a metaphorical death.  A time when we recognize something in us must die, or be given fully over to God.  We must enter the darkness and allow the light of Jesus to show us what we cannot see.  We must let go of whatever anger, regret, pain, hatred, bitterness, envy, betrayal, or disappointment that grows within us like an illness and trust that in the darkness; in that tomb-like place, there God is. Other times it might be the death of a dream, a long held idea, practice, or way of doing things.  It might be our pride, ego, or refusal to be wrong that grows within us.   
That process is difficult to bear and difficult to watch.  It is grueling, and metaphorically speaking, like Lazarus; how long was he in the grave and what did Martha say about the smell?  The longer it takes the more it stinks!  It stinks to be dealing with it and probably stinks for anyone who might be in it with us. 
Sitting in the dark, realizing what must symbolically die, working through issues, facing fears, making tough decisions, experiencing pain, seeking truth, holding on, letting go, and existing in everybody's favorite place to be: the unknown.  Who is ready to sign up for that class?  
We are reminded today that it takes time but remembering the words of Jesus, “this darkness is not fatal,” it is just hard.  People of God, we can do hard things.  We already have.  You already have.  AND it will bring glory to a God that is bigger than all of it. 
What happened when poor Lazarus emerged?  What were his family and community to do?  What action has to happen in order for it all to matter and mean something for God’s greater purpose?  If we are the ones outside the grave, outside the darkness and we see, hear, meet, come across, or are presented with someone who has been inside the grave for days, weeks, or even years, what does Jesus tell us?  “Unbind him and let him go.” 
It is our job to unbind and release.   Lazarus didn’t come out dancing, jumping up and down, ready to lead the charge.  I imagine he came out tired, still bound but alive; hesitant but wanting to know what was next;  cautious or wary and needing someone to say “welcome back, here, let me help.”  Jesus tells us it is our job, people of God, to unbind those who emerge from darkness and release them into the new life Jesus has given.   In other words, it is our job, to meet, greet, welcome, and approach the Lazarus’ among us and say, “let me help you - lay down the grave clothes and experience the life Jesus has given you.”  What does that look like here at Grace?  What does that mean to you?  Who are the people walking around you - us in need of someone to come along and unbind them from their pain, sorrow, disappointment; and let them loose to live into the new life Jesus brought them to?  Christ has no hands but ours.  
Whether you feel like a part of you is dying or that something within you must die that you might live more fully, or you are the one standing outside the  grave:
 Lazarus has something to say,
Jesus has life to offer, and
We have work to do.  
May the Love of God guide our steps on this journey of darkness and light.
May the peace of Christ guide our hearts and minds throughout.
May the power & presence of the Holy Spirit bolster our courage to keep on keeping on.
AMEN
Pastor Jenothy Irvine

In the Bible, knowledge is not just about mental cognition or logic. Rather, knowledge is relational, intuitive, imaginative, beautiful, intimate, embodied. The Hebrew word for knowledge, yada, is about sexual union. In other words, knowledge is relational. Knowledge is having eyes to see God’s works.
I can remember how my father who was the head of the math department for years at the University of Southern Indiana would share at times how the professors there would tend to get into conflict with each other over all kinds of things. After a while, I told him that his department sounded like the church I was serving at the time. I guess all that head knowledge did not always translate into relational or spiritual, insight.
With respect to the story of the man born blind, I can’t help but wonder if this might be why so many people are so unhappy! They all think they know what Jesus is doing, but they miss his lovingkindness right toward this man who had been excluded from the community. Indeed, at the end of the passage, the blind man gets kicked out for believing in Jesus.
I also can’t help but wonder if this is what Jesus was getting at when he told Nicodemus that true knowledge of God is about understanding that the Spirit blows where it wills (John 3:8). No one controls what the Spirit does, or whom the Spirit rests upon – whether it is college students at Asbury University, or sanitation workers in Memphis in 1968, or a Jewish carpenter from Nazareth.
The test of faith is not about dismissing outright what the Spirit is doing, but seeking further what the Spirit is up to, for if something is truly of God, it will bring forth good fruit, along with healing which builds up and does not tear down.
How may we receive the Spirit to see what Christ is doing? What are the way we may confess Jesus as the Christ, knowing that there might be risks involved? 

​Pastor Andy Kinsey

I don’t think it is too much of an overstatement to say that when we read the Gospels, we see how there is prejudice toward outsiders. Jesus is always in trouble when he spends time with folks who are thought to be unfaithful, uninformed, uncommitted – e.g., poor, female, outcast, blind, lame, orphaned, leprous, to name a few! Indeed, the great charge against Jesus from insiders was that “He ate with and received sinners.” To which Jesus replied, “The Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.”
          Again, I don’t think I am stating it too strongly when I say that with respect to any church I have served, that there have typically been two types of folks in conservation with Jesus on any given Sunday – insiders and outsiders. The insiders tend to know, or we think we know, a lot about religion; we think we have all the answers. But, as is often depicted in the Gospels, we are the ones who are confused by Jesus, who try to put him in a box, only to be surprised when he uncovers how little we know him.
          On the other hand, the outsiders, like the Samaritan woman at the well, don’t know much about religion, which is not a bad thing; and they don’t know how the church works, again not a bad thing. Indeed, sometimes outsiders can feel as if they are inadequate, or second-rate, because of insiders like us.
          This is strange because the Gospels bend over backwards to show that Jesus seeks out and leans toward people on the edges. In fact, I don’t think it is too far off base to say that if we are to judge a church biblically, we are to do so by how many outsiders it gathers to worship on a Sunday. If, when we come to worship, and we have nothing but people like me as an insider, then we are not the church that Jesus gathers, at least according to the New Testament.
          How might we share in God’s mission to seek out, welcome, and share Christ’s mercy? What kind of people do we need to be to engage in conversation with persons who might not see how we are to love God and neighbor? 

​Pastor Andy Kinsey

Why would anyone ever want or choose to be born again?  It’s a process and nobody enjoys the process of much of anything whether it's getting a cavity filled at the dentist or the paperwork for purchasing a car.  It’s painful.  One word: contractions!  It’s messy.  You’ve seen the documentaries and zoo videos.  You’ve been on the farm.  Birth is messy no matter what the animal. It involves a lot of things happening all at the same time. It’s emotional.  Everything from joy, wonder, and excitement to fear, anger, and bewilderment arise.  It takes everything you got.  Your energy, strength, determination, grit, and stamina.  You can’t do it alone.  At the very least there is always the one birthing and the one being birthed!  

In John 3:4-6 a man named Nicodemus asks Jesus one of the most theologically challenging and debated questions of all time:  “How can I be born again?”  Nicodemus was a Pharisee - meaning he took a pledge that he would spend his life observing every detail of the Hebrew Scriptures,  The Pharisees believed the Law was the perfect word of God.  To add or take away from it was a deadly sin.  They believed the Law contained everything a person needed to know for the living of a good life, if not explicitly, then implicitly. If it was implicit then it was the Pharisees who determined what the word of God meant.  It was their life’s work to interpret and enforce the letter of the Law.  In all of their interpreting and enforcing however, the Pharisees turned the overarching principles meant to establish community and sustain a sense of purpose and order within the community, and created a massive list of legalistic bylaws and regulations for everything.

Nicodemus was a member of the Sanhedrin, which was the high court of the Jewish community. The Sanhedrin had religious jurisdiction over every Jew in the world; and one of its duties was to examine and deal with anyone suspected of being a false prophet; anyone challenging or changing what they established as law.  Guess who was at the top of their list? Jesus. Nicodemus was most likely from a distinguished Jewish family; an elite Jewish aristocrat if you will.  He knew people who knew people and had people who had people.  Nicodemus was wealthy - we discover in John 19:39 that when Jesus died it was Nicodemus who brought a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes to prepare Jesus’ body. Something not just anyone could afford.  In other words Nicodemus had it all.  He was smart, educated, financially stable, socially established, respected, and well known, AND YET with all that, it is believed that something must have been missing for him to feel so strongly about going to see Jesus. 

Nicodemus represents an age-old human struggle: the desire and awareness of a person who longs to change but who cannot change on their own or of their own accord.  We can almost hear Nicodemus saying to Jesus with a yearning in his voice, “I know that change is necessary; but in my experience it is impossible. All that I know - all that I practiced - in all that I have come to know - there are no written laws, regulations, or bylaws telling me how to do it - how to change and be transformed. Tell me how Jesus!  There is nothing I would like more, but you might as well tell me, a full grown man, to enter into the mother’s womb and be born all over again. “

Nicodemus was stuck.  Stuck in that place where what was and what is not yet holds a tension between his head and heart and creates a tug-of-war.  He was stuck in the place of saying goodbye to that part of his old self; the part that served him well, brought him through to that point in his life, had given him meaning and direction but now was no longer enough or perhaps it hadn’t been enough for a long time.  He was stuck inside a box that wouldn’t allow him the grace to consider what Jesus was offering him. This was Nicodemus’ goodbye / hello moment.   

I imagine we have all been there- stuck in those old patterns, ideas, or behaviors.  Stuck with what we have always known, always done, and always pursued even if it left us wanting more.  Stuck knowing something needed to change but afraid to let go of what we know and reach for what we don’t know. Stuck knowing we needed to say goodbye to that which limited our experience and connection with God and hello to that which expanded our experience and connection with God.   Goodbye old self - hello to new birth.  

Lent is that place of goodbye and hello. Nicodemus teaches us that there are times when it is necessary to say goodbye to our old self - to who we were or who we thought we were.  Goodbye to who we thought we needed to be or who others thought we needed and expected us to be, and hello to who we are in Christ.   There are times when we need to say goodbye to what we were convinced was right or what we thought to be true and hello to a deeper understanding of how the Holy Spirit works.  It is by the Spirit we are made new (born again) and our faith is made stronger, more resilient, and more complete.   

This change that happens is what Jesus was talking about.  It is the metaphorical birthing process, and being born is hard work.  It is often painful, frightening, disorienting, emotional and messy work.  True change - true rebirth of self is the work of you and the Holy Spirit.  There may be a few of us along the way to help, but at its core, it is you and the Holy Spirit.  By ourselves we can be nothing more than what we are - human; limited by our own thoughts and emotions; bound by what others say, think, or do; captive to the fear of the unknown or fear of change and yet longing for more.  We are impatient, often frustrated, disheartened, and discontent.  But the very essence of the Spirit of God is love and life and that energy force of Divine Love cannot be contained by any system, regulation, institution, bylaw, demand, expectation, or box we or anyone else tries to fit it in.  That was the invitation extended to Nicodemus and now to us: to allow the Spirit of God, not the spirit of self or the spirit of legalism to birth something new within.  

It’s hard work being born.  I wonder, what is the Spirit of God birthing in you?  Will you stay the course this Lent and find out?   May it be so. 

​Pastor Jenothy Irvine

Temptation, dear friends, is never simple. Temptation is always subtle and seductive. That’s why it is called temptation.
Look at Jesus’ first temptation: turning stone into bread. Who doesn’t want to solve hunger? But that’s what Satan is offering Jesus: To be able to be relevant to society, to help people. What is wrong with that? After all, Jesus is hungry, starved to death. It sounds reasonable. Why not accept the invitation? Well, as Jesus says, “Because man shall not live by bread alone.”
          And what about the second temptation: what kind of religious leader or preacher doesn’t want some kind of press or celebrity for getting out the word? After all, won’t that help the cause? It could get more people to come to church. Who wouldn’t want that? Just show off by performing a stunt every week by parachuting off the church steeple, or by hosting someone famous. It can work. Why not? Well, as Jesus says, “You shall not put God to the test.”
          Then again, what about the third temptation: Satan shows Jesus all the kingdoms and nations of the world saying, “The world could use a strong man like you about now. Look at all the problems. Someone like you could whip the countries into shape. Think about it, Jesus. You don’t even have to tell the truth. Just say what people want to hear,” Satan says. 
But then comes the clincher when Satan tells Jesus, “All these things are yours, if you worship me…” And Jesus says, “You shall worship the Lord and serve the Lord alone.”
Again: temptation is not about a cartoon saying ‘no’ to Hot Fudge Chocolate! Rather, temptation concerns what is reasonable, what is helpful, and what is good; that is to say, fundamentally, temptation is not about the question, “Would you like to do something wrong?” It is about the tempter in the Garden asking Adam and Eve, “Would you like to be like God?”
Now what is wrong with that? Isn’t that what we are about? Isn’t that what we want?  What temptation is about is saying ‘goodbye’ to such silliness and saying ‘hello’ to more fundamental questions like what kind of God am I worshipping? Who is this Jesus I am following? It is about asking yourself: what am I going to do with my life? We need to understand that the struggle of faith, the path of discipleship, is a struggle between spirit and ego, true self and false self; it is about asking: what are we going to do with the rest of our lives?
During this season of Lent, how would you answer these questions?

Pastor Andy Kinsey

​You may or may not know their name.  You may or may not see them in action.  Without them however,  the church would not be what it is.  For example: He is the one who arrives before anyone else and gets tables and chairs set up, then stays late to put it all away and take out the trash.  She is the one doing the grunt work to make sure things come together as planned.  The one behind the scenes making sure details are taken care of and those of us up front look good.
They are the ones who give above and beyond without recognition so that another family gets Christmas.  They are the ones that buy extra food without expectation and put it in the pantry basket. He waters the poinsettias every year.  She cleans out the flower beds.  She checks expiration dates and rearranges the food in the donation cabinet. She prays in the middle of the night and ties fleece blankets for homeless youth. He packs sack lunches and knits hats and scarves to the homeless. 

They don’t do it for the  accolades.
They don’t do it for fame.
They don’t do it for money or prosperity.   
They do it simply because that is who they are; because that is how they show Jesus to the world. They are the disciples the rest of us count on.  The disciples whose shoulders we stand on.  The disciples the church was and is built on.

Her name was Tabitha, also known as Dorcus. She lived in the port city of Joppa and her trade was that of sewing - making clothing, tunics, and other garments for the locals there.  She served the marginalized and forgotten people of her community.

The church at this point is very young - gaining momentum.  It is critical that the disciples and the people they reach out to and minister to realize that it is the power of Jesus at work and not the power of the person being called to preach, teach, or perform miracles.  This is essential to the growth of the early church because this would set them apart from all the other false prophets, teachers, and alleged “gods' ' vying for their allegiance; an allegiance to the human and not the divine.  They needed to know it was Jesus as the fulfillment of the Old Testament Law - the promised one and not some trickery or political plot supplied by the hands of power hungry, controlling people.

Underneath the public healings and all the noise, chatter, and energy that happened through the likes of Paul and Peter, however, was another layer spreading the message and promise of Jesus.  It was a more quiet and subtle, but no less essential and no less powerful truth.  A truth illustrating that the same force that moved in those who lead the charge was a work behind the scenes, in private homes, and with small numbers of on-lookers.  The same power that appeared through those who took on the public demands and faced obvious widespread challenges of the day, was at work through the lives of people like Tabitha.  Tabitha in her own way was just as much a disciple as Paul and Peter.  

The text itself tells us …a disciple whose name was Tabitha” (Acts 9: 36).  She is not identified as a widow, although she is surrounded by many at the time of her illness and subsequent death.  She is not identified as a wife with her purpose and status tied to her husband’s name.  She is not identified as  a foreigner although by using both her Hebrew and Greek name, the author is highlighting the fact that her story is told to a mixed community.  She is not identified as a daughter of so and so, or the mother of so and so. 

Dorcas reminds us of five crucial lessons:  
1  Use the Gifts You've Been Given to Help Others
2. Stay Faithful in Doing Good for Others
3. Build Relationships That Will Have Lasting Impact on Others
4. Make Service and Ministry Toward Others a Priority
5. Let God Use You to Witness to Others

To all who have eyes to see and ears to hear:  How does the story of Dorcas speak to you?  Where do you see Jesus’ invitation to bring who you are, use what you have and connect your life with the life of others? How does Dorcas challenge you? How does your life reveal the love of God, the hope of Jesus, and the power and presence of the Holy Spirit?  How does your life reflect what it means to be a disciple - to be a follower of Jesus?   

 May God be with us as we live into the answers.  Amen.

​Pastor Jenothy Irvine

When we look about Aaron in the Bible, we get a glimpse of someone who is not the main figure in the drama of God’s salvation, but whom God uses anyway to play a vital role of communicating who God is and what God will do to the people. We see Aaron serving as Moses’ mouthpiece in front of Pharoah and leading as the high priest. In fact, the role of Aaron as the high priest was critical to the worship of God, both in the tabernacle and eventually in the Temple. When the people worshipped God, they looked to the high priest.
This is one of the reasons why the worship of the golden calf is so important: Aaron was to lead the people in the true worship of the God of Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob. It was Aaron’s job to make sure this was done according to God’s instructions, with all the sacrifices and rituals and guidelines. After all, the correct way of worship, according to Torah, would lead either to life or the incorrect to death, which is a reminder that how we worship is a big deal in the Bible – not to mention Who we worship.
Yet, there is still that nagging question about what makes Aaron special or unsung. Is Aaron somehow above judgement?
Well, first, we need to understand that God does punish Aaron. Aaron might not have received punishment at the time when Moses burned with anger and threw down the tablets, but Aaron was judged, first, by not getting to go into the Promised Land, and second, by losing two of his sons as part of God’s reckoning.
Yet, the thing that makes Aaron an unsung hero is how he was among those who repented, (32:26), who turned to God, admitting what he had done. He was able to receive Moses’s intercession for forgiveness (v. 30).
          And you might ask, ‘And that’s it? That’s the point?’ Yes, what makes Aaron an unsung hero like the rest of us is forgiveness: again and again, God uses flawed people like us to serve important roles. Aaron, who had led the people astray to worship a golden calf, was the one God chose to lead the people closer to God in worship, to seek and receive God’s forgiveness, despite what he and the people had done. God’s forgiveness made it possible for Aaron to lead!
          How does God’s forgiveness make new beginnings possible? What does a person like Aaron teach us about how we can move with God? How can a lack of humility lead to our downfall? 

​Pastor Andy Kinsey