April 21 — Fourth Sunday of Easter

Listen to this sermon HERE.


“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.”

What kind of a good and gracious shepherd would do that?

You would think that the Good Shepherd would prepare a table before me that’s nowhere near my enemies!

But...“thou preparest a table before me in the presence of the Boston marathon.” [pause]

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of cancer, of shingles, of depression, addiction, and overwhelming grief.”

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of marital strife and broken families.”

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of unclean air and water and contaminated food.”

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of violence...abroad and violence at home and violence in my heart.”

“Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my own fears and anxieties.”

Jesus lifts us up out of the thicket,
but we’re still in the valley. 

The Good Shepherd doesn’t promise a life free of danger and pain.  The Good Shepherd, in fact, leads us right through the valley of the shadow of death and prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies, in the presence of death itself.  

Not many with whom I have ministered, in those difficult days following the death of a loved one have chosen to have Holy Communion at the funeral or memorial service of their dearly departed.  Usually families opt out, usually for logistical reasons, or feeling like some might feel excluded.  And that’s OK.  But I hope you have it at my funeral…and that the pastor invites everyone to the table with open arms...

...because I can envision no better image of verse 5 of Psalm 23 than having Holy Communion at a funeral!  God’s table prepared, right in the face of death.  Right in the face of all that would defy God, Christ offers us a banquet of grace, hope, forgiveness, freedom, Christ’s own presence and love!  Right in the presence of what was once our greatest enemy—death. Christ has risen!  And so death is no longer our enemy.  “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies."

Still, even post-resurrection, Christ doesn’t promise us a life free of pain and suffering, in fact Good Shepherd leads us right through the valley of the shadow of death.  But, we still come out alive, maybe not in this life, but we still come out alive!   Jesus lifts us up at the last.

This is a different kind of leader, this shepherd leader, who picks us up, raises us up, but not without some scratches and bruises from life’s thicket.  We all have scratches and bruises from life’s thicket.    

But friends in Christ, the Good Shepherd calls us again today, calls out to you...
“My sheep hear my voice,” Jesus says.  I wonder if that means that despite all the other voices, we Christ-followers can still hear our shepherd leader’s voice.  Despite the voices that call us to venture after other things, things of this world, [pause]
despite the voices that call us to seek revenge (“to blow that ugly kid’s head off, because that’s what he did to us”), despite the voices that call us to seek protection (“Just get safe.”)—a scratch and bruise-free life, despite the voices that call us to look out for ourselves and our favorite friends and family first and only—despite all the other voices, Jesus’ flock can still hear the Shepherd’s voice.  The other voices aren’t going anywhere.  Jesus doesn’t silence the clamor.  No, Jesus prepares a meal before us right in the middle of the clamor, of the evil, of the distractions, of the pain!  

I think it’s good to commune with the sounds of the world right on the other side of this wall.  We’re not sealed up in here; we’re not safe.  It’s a good reminder, to eat Christ’s body and drink Christ’s blood as motorcycles rev, and sirens blare just right out there…’cause we’re in the world.  We can’t help but hear the voices of the world.  We hear them, and sometimes we follow after them.  Sometimes the world’s voices hook us.  We’re part of the world.  Let’s not kid ourselves.  

But here’s the thing:  Christ comes to find us today.  To pick us up, despite our scratches and bruises, despite our angers and fears, Christ comes to pick us up and feed us right in the presence of the danger all around, and to lead us anew, right through the valley of the shadow of death, we are comforted, fed, anointed with oil, forgiven.  That’s a God worth celebrating—might not be a God that everyone in this world wants to follow—but that’s a God worth celebrating, a God who enters our pain, and gives us peace.

Jesus comes and finds us today! Jesus lifts us up out of the thicket, but we’re still in the valley.  And yet we feast, for we know, that death does not have the final say, that Tabitha gets up, that communion of saints exists right here and right now, even right smack in the midst our grief and our suffering.  Christ holds us.  We dwell in God’s house, which is far bigger than this building, we dwell in God’s house just by breathing.  God is with us even now, in our dark valleys, for Christ has conquered the power of death and raised us up to new life.   AMEN.