John 1:1-18 (New International Version, ©2011)

John 1:1-3, 9-14, 17, 18

The Word Became Flesh

 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
 9 The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. 11 He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. 12 Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— 13 children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.
 14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
16 Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. 17 For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known.

On Good Friday I began the message with these words ...

It was to hillside shepherds that an angel spoke.
“Do not be afraid,” the angel said.
I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.
Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you;
he is Christ the Lord.”

And when the angel had finished speaking
a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel
praising God and saying,
“Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to all people
on whom God’s favour rests.”
And with those words spoken,
and with the birth of that Child,
the story began.

Whether one believes in angels or not …
whether one would be dismissive of such a tale or not …
there is a majestic truth in the words that were spoken.

The Child who was born …
the One who would become our Saviour …
came to bring us peace:
peace with God …
peace among ourselves …
peace deep within.

This Child who was born
would become the instrument of God’s peace.

And I ended the Good Friday message with these words of St. Francis of Assisi,
          offered as a prayer by Jesus as he was dying ...

 

“Lord  -  in the midst of this  -
make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is injury, let me bring pardon.
Where there is discord, let me bring union.
Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.
Where there is error, let me bring truth.
Where there is despair, let me bring hope.
Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.
Where there is darkness, let me bring light.

“Lord, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.

“For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.” 

And  this One who had become the instrument of God’s peace ...      
this One who had become our peace ...
bowed his head, breathed his last, and died.

AND THAT WAS THE END OF IT.               

For Pilate, that was the end of it.
          He had washed his hands of the whole sordid mess.

For Peter, lost in the guilt of his denials
          and for the others who had abandoned him,
that was the end of it ...
the end of the hope they had in him
and the hope they had for themselves.

Judas, out of the shame of his betrayal, had hanged himself.

 For those who welcomed him the Sunday before
          with the waving of palm branches,
                   who hailed him as king and Saviour,
                             that was the end of it.

For the Roman soldiers who had served the crucifixion detail,
          even though one of them had said that
                   “Surely he was the Son of God,”
                             that was the end of it.

This One who had become the instrument of God’s peace ...    
this One who had become our peace ...
bowed his head, breathed his last, and died.
         That was the end of it.

Now it happened that a man named Joseph of Arimathea,
a member of the council,
went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.
And Pilate, learning from the centurion that Jesus was dead,
gave the body to Joseph.

Joseph brought some linen cloth,
took down Jesus’ body,
wrapped it in the linen,
and placed it in his own tomb cut out of rock
and rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb.
And that was the end of it.

For Ciaphas and the chief priests and the elders
          that was the end of it ...
                   the end of this trouble maker.
                             But not quite.

The next day, Saturday, the chief priests and Pharisees went to Pilate
          and asked that a guard be placed at the entrance of the tomb.
                   They told Pilate that Jesus had said he would rise again in three days ...
                             and they were afraid that the disciples might come and steal the body
                                      and tell everyone that he had been raised from the dead.

So Pilate sent a guard and the tomb was sealed ...
          and the guard was posted there to keep watch.
                   And that was the end of it.
                             THAT WAS THE END OF IT.

For some there was relief that it was over.
          Life could return back to normal.
                   Life could go on.

But for others the day between Friday and Sunday
          seemed like it would never end.
                    It was as though time stood still.
                             There was disbelief.
                                       There was numbness.
                                                 There was inconsolable sorrow.
                                                         There were unstoppable tears.
                                                                   There were broken hearts.
                                                                             There were crushed spirits.
                                                                                       It seemed like the day would never end
                                                                                               because that was the end of it.

Who wanted tomorrow after that yesterday?
Who wanted to live after he had died?
Who wanted to go on after it had all been stopped?
Where was the love in this loveless world?

But their tomorrow did come.
          They awoke to it.
                   They awoke to that same emptiness.
                             But as the day unfolded they awoke to something more.

Some of the women were on their way to Jesus’ tomb
to anoint Jesus’ body with spices.
And as they journeyed there they wondered who would roll away the stone
from the entrance of the tomb.
But when they arrived the stone had been rolled away.
          And as they entered the tomb
they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side.
          And they were afraid.

And on this empty day, to broken hearts, to broken hopes and to broken dreams,
          as at the beginning of the story
the angel, this heavenly messenger, spoke to them.
         “Do not be afraid,” he said,
                  as another angel had said to hillside shepherds.
                            “Do not be afraid.
You are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.
                                       He is risen!  He is not here ...”

As an angel had announced years earlier
that their Saviour had been born,
on this empty day, to broken hearts, in an empty tomb,
an angel announced that that their Saviour had risen!
And with those words
it was no longer the end of it:
IT WAS THE BEGINNING!

Whether one believes in angels or not …
whether one would be dismissive of such a tale or not …
there is a majestic truth in the words that were spoken.
And we are here today bearing witness to that truth ...

The Child who was born …
the One who lived his life among them ...
the One in whose presence they experienced the very presence of God ...
the One who had been crucified and buried ...
this One had risen ...
this One ... had ... risen!

But that was then.
And this is now.

We know what it meant for them.
What does it mean for us?
What does it mean for you?

Because we have all been at that place of brokenness,
and maybe you’re there today:
the broken heart place of great sorrow ...
the broken spirit place of difficult things to get through ...
the broken heart place of relationships that are fractured ...
the broken life place of wrongs done that cannot be undone ...
the broken hope place where all we feel is despair ...
the broken peace place where everything weighs so heavily on us.

Still, we have come to a place like this.  Why?

Isn’t it because we want what we hear today to be true?
Isn’t it because we need what we hear today to be true?
That there is comfort for our sorrow ...
and a way through ...
and forgiveness ...
and hope ...
and light for our darkness ...
and not just a promise of peace, deep peace within, but its reality ...
and a Love for us that can make all of the difference in the world?

I have a story to tell – that speaks to the glory of this day.

My friend and mentor, Bob Trimble,
was never able to use this story in his own preaching.
The remembrance was too emotional for him.
And he had never written it down, until he wrote it down for me the other day.
I tell it, finally, for him and for us on this Easter day.

It was during the 1950’s that Bob Trimble,
was the minister at Burton Ave. United Church.
He was determined, he wrote me, to preach Christ-centred sermons
with many a call to Christian commitment of different kinds.
This is Bob’s remembrance ...

“Early on in the second year,
          a small group of men came to visit me.
                   They expressed a desire to learn more of the faith
                             and said they wanted to build a prayer life –
                                      they were able to pray in church
                                                but not at home with their families.
                                                          I was thrilled to meet them
                                                                   and we started a mid-week prayer/study fellowship.
                                                                             It soon took root and although it remained a small group,
                                                                                      it was powerful!

“One of the members sang in the choir.
His wife taught in the Church School.
They had one young daughter attending public school.
Tragically she came down with leukemia, was hospitalized,
and in time was transferred to Sick Kids in Toronto.

“Well, our prayer group rose to the occasion,
          went into high gear
                   and naturally and faithfully prayed for a miracle week after week
                             but at last the child died.
                                      The funeral was held in our church  -
                                                a sad, heavy, mournful time  -
                                                          a packed sanctuary  -
                                                                   the floor wet with tears.

“That man and his wife were heartbroken.
They kept the little girl’s room as a shrine,
stayed away from church
and seemed to be forever broken.

“Then one Sunday he showed up at the evening service.
He put on his gown, joined the choir and attended in the choir loft.

“In those days the sermon closed the service following the offering.
          And that night as the offering was being received,
the man, who had been broken by his daughter’s death,
 stood up and to the accompaniment of the organ (although unannounced)
sang in a strong, clear voice the old Gospel song,

My Father is omnipotent
and that you can’t deny
a God of love and miracles
‘tis written in the sky

It took a miracle
to put the stars in place
it took a miracle
to hang the world in space
but when he saved my soul
cleansed and made me whole
it took a miracle of love and grace

“He sat down.
There was dead silence.
I should have shut down the service right then.
But we sat quietly for a long, long time  -
not a dry eye in the house.

“It was one of the finest messages I have ever heard.
          From that day, he was back.
                   It was one of those experiences that people talked about for years.

“Out of the four founding members of that prayer/study group,
three went on to full-time service in the church.
(And that’s another good story...).”

 

It is, of course, the story of a man, even in his emptiness and brokenness,
who, in experiencing the wonder of the risen Christ within
was able to rise from his brokenness and emptiness
to wholeness and fullness.
                                     
I have been a person of faith for as long as I can remember.
When I was just a boy I heard the story
and let it become part of the story of my life.
And although I have grown and changed through the years ...
although my faith has been shaped and reshaped
by all of the things that have unfolded in my life ...
although , like you, I have been at my places of brokenness ...
although I have had my unanswerable questions
I have, in faith, like the man in Bob’s story,
embraced an unquestionable answer:

Jesus Christ is risen.
In life, in death, in life beyond death
God is with us.
We are not alone.
And it has made all the difference.

So on this day, as you leave this place,
let the One who rose on that glad Easter day
rise within you ...
let the One whose name is Love  - in a miracle of love and grace  -
be the One that fills you with hope and peace ... and joy.

SOLI  DEO  GLORIA
To God Alone The Glory