This space is devoted to sharing the sermons preached at Park View Mennonite Church, in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Please feel free to read, listen to, or watch any of these sermons, and then offer your comments, questions, or reflections, using the "comment" link at the end of each sermon. May these sermons challenge you to think and to act in new ways, and to grow in grace and in faithfulness to God's call.
September 25, 2011 -- Communities of peace in a world of insecurity
Mark 12:35 to 13:10
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Guest preacher Roy Hange (pastor of Charlottesville Mennonite Church, and overseer of Park View) brought the sermon this morning, to conclude our three Sunday series on "Communities of Grace, Joy, and Peace."
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September 18, 2011 -- “Communities of joy in a world of economic anxiety”
Luke 12:22-34
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In all the troubles of the world today,
in all the seemingly insolvable problems facing the human race—
terrorism, war, oppressive dictators,
health crises, hunger, poverty, global market collapse,
climate change, ethnic and religious violence, and on and on—
I wonder if at the bottom of it all,
feeding all these global catastrophes,
like taproots that feed a towering tree,
is a deep human anxiety rooted in economics.
Yes. I think we grossly underestimate the role
that economic anxiety plays
in feeding these intractable problems of the world.
I actually think there’s biblical evidence to support my wondering.
Some scholars, who count these things,
claim there is more scripture devoted to economic matters,
than on any other subject. Period.
Not strictly about money.
But about wealth, poverty, possessions, wages, tithing,
labor, economic justice, generosity, hoarding, etc.
The Spirit of God who inspired these words
apparently thought we needed to hear them a lot,
apparently thought this subject applied to all areas of life.
Jesus, more than anyone, talked about economics.
At least half his parables were about that.
And much of the rest of his ministry—
from the widow who gave her last penny,
to the rich young ruler who didn’t let go of his wealth,
to his lessons on taxes, debt, investment, generosity,
and more.
I think today’s Gospel reading,
might be considered Jesus’ most important, and core teaching,
on how he desires his followers to think, feel, and act economically.
Luke 12, as well as its counterpart in Matthew 6, says,
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat,
or about your body, what you will wear.
Life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.”
And he goes on with the examples of ravens and lilies and grass,
saying that God cares about, watches over, feeds, clothes,
and provides for the smallest things in creation.
How much more, his human creation.
Therefore, do not strive for these things—
food, drink, clothing, wealth, material and economic security.
The nations of the world strive for these things,
and look how messed up they’ve gotten from all their striving.
But you, “strive for the kingdom of God,
and these things will be given to you as well.”
In other words, rather than strive for economic and material security,
strive for the kingdom,
and economic necessities will find their proper place.
Striving for things of secondary importance,
only produces anxiety,
the kind of anxiety we see in “the nations of the world”
to use Jesus’ words.
When I expend all my energy
striving for things of secondary importance,
it renders me off-balance.
It “strives me crazy.”
It “strives me” toward actions, and attitudes, and beliefs, and words,
that heighten my anxiety,
that raise my defensiveness,
that reinforce my self-protective posture in the world,
that make me suspicious and aggressive and even violent
toward others.
It works directly against the purposes of the kingdom of God,
the kingdom of righteousness, peace, and joy.
It’s this all-out striving for the secondary,
and neglecting the primary,
that’s . . . striving me crazy.
Even in much simpler and slower times,
like first-century Palestine,
Jesus knew what misplaced striving would do to people’s souls.
He asked, “Can any of you by worrying
add a single hour to your span of life?”
His rhetorical question, obviously, is answered with a “no.”
He might even by implying that worry could subtract an hour.
So invest in what comes first, Jesus said.
“Sell your possessions, give alms.
Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out,
an unfailing treasure in heaven,
where no thief comes near and no moth destroys.
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
This is a repeated emphasis by Jesus, and by the rest of scripture.
We are to redirect our energy, away from the temporal, and earthly,
and toward the eternal, and heavenly.
This idea is not, as some suggest,
meant as an escape from the unpleasant realities of this life.
Focusing on the kingdom of God and its priorities,
is not so we take our focus off this earth.
It is so we can live on this earth in the way God intended,
with freedom, with joy, with compassion,
and with generous abandon.
The intention of God for creation is shalom—
peace and harmony and beauty and wholeness.
But the anxiety that results in
striving for earthly wealth, possessions, and power,
destroys shalom—
replaces it with power-grabbing, one-upmanship,
deceit, greed, violence.
Striving for the secondary,
doesn’t just distract us from primary kingdom values,
it is anti-kingdom.
_____________________
Mennonite World Conference, some years ago,
came up with seven shared convictions,
that every member of the World Conference—
Anabaptist-related groups all over the world,
from all cultures and language groups—
agreed together are the core convictions of our faith.
Just seven short statements,
and one of them speaks directly to this issue, I think.
Here’s what it says:
“The spirit of Jesus empowers us to trust God in all areas of life,
so we become peacemakers who renounce violence,
love our enemies,
seek justice,
and share our possessions with those in need.”
This is fundamentally an issue about trust.
Anxiety over our personal, physical, and economic needs
is not just an emotion.
If it’s only an emotion,
the opposite of anxiety is calm.
But anxiety, as Jesus used the word, is a frame of mind.
It’s a mindset.
And as such, the opposite of anxiety is trust.
As our shared conviction statement says,
when the Spirit of Jesus empowers us to trust God in all of life,
we become peacemakers who renounce violence,
we become people who love enemies and seek justice,
we become people who rather than grasp their possessions,
or worry if there’s enough,
share their possessions freely and joyfully.
When we trust,
we put away the anxious striving that gets us off-balance.
When we trust,
there is no need to take up arms.
No need to run roughshod over others to get what we want,
or even to keep what we have.
No need to stay awake at night worrying over our 401K.
No need to walk through life,
with our fists clenched,
with our arms crossed,
with our hands securely in our pockets.
Those are the bodily postures of economic anxiety.
Protecting what I have,
against any unwanted intrusion,
against any threat to my stuff.
Those who live in trust can walk through life differently.
The bodily posture of trust is arms wide open.
Trust is a posture of openness, of hospitality, of vulnerability.
This goes against the “nations of the world” as Jesus pointed out.
In stark contrast to Jesus’ followers,
in stark contrast to those who strive for the kingdom,
the so-called “nations” teach us to keep our hands in our pockets.
To guard what we have. To ward off pick-pocketers.
To be reserved, to hold back, to hide.
It’s an inhospitable posture.
It’s an anxious gesture.
And “the nations” teach us the posture of fisted-hands.
Arms raised to either shield us from a blow,
or to strike out ourselves,
anxiously waiting the next attack.
You can see how this anxiety that flares up
if we’re afraid we don’t have enough, or
if we’re afraid someone might take what is ours, or
if we’re afraid our security is crumbling around us,
you can see how this anxiety expresses itself
in other areas of life.
It’s hard to deny.
There is a direct relationship,
between economic anxiety, greed, or protectionism,
and the kind of violence and national self-centeredness
that plagues the nations of this world,
and shows up in all sorts of brokenness and catastrophe.
Individually, corporately, and nationally,
we have come to see it as normal,
to be poised in a posture of fisted-hands,
crossed arms, or hands-in-the-pocket.
We live our lives in that posture, metaphorically.
How might we live differently as disciples of Jesus,
how might the whole world be different,
if we held the posture of arms spread wide!
Arms that communicate warmth and invitation,
that my first concern is not to guard my personal space,
but to open myself to that which is beyond me...
to you, to my friends, to the stranger,
to my enemies, to God.
To stand with arms spread wide
is to make a profound theological statement.
It is to say that I don’t belong first of all to myself.
I belong to God.
Everything I am, everything I have, belongs to God,
who is the source of everything worthwhile.
It is to say, “I trust God.”
It is what it means to have faith.
It’s difficult for me to understand how persons of faith in God,
persons who trust God,
can justify killing another person,
in order to protect my personal property
or defend my personal well-being.
I know the ethical questions get sticky,
when it comes to defending the well-being of others,
especially those who are most vulnerable and helpless.
But it’s still worth pondering the question,
can any act of violence
ever be defined as an act of trust in God?
_____________________
People of God at Park View Mennonite—
We are called to be a people of arms wide open.
We are called to be a community of hospitality,
of receptivity, of vulnerability, of freedom,
and thus . . . a community of joy.
How many people do you know who you could describe as
full of joy and full of anxiety?
The two don’t go together.
I know that I need, for my human well-being,
to be around people of open arms.
Because my default posture is not arms wide open.
I am not, by nature, as perhaps some persons are,
a joyfully open, unreserved, and risk-taking free spirit.
I am by nature cautious, risk-assessing, deliberate.
I can easily keep my hands in my pockets.
So I realize, for my own spiritual good,
I need to be immersed in a community defined by its open arms.
Open-armed living is contagious.
Now . . . that’s not to say I should have no boundaries.
Being healthy means being clear about appropriate boundaries.
We don’t stand wide open to anyone or anything
that encroaches on us.
That’s why Jesus told his disciples as he sent them out,
“be wise as serpents, and innocent as doves.”
But, even though sometimes drawing back is the right move,
our default posture as a community,
our characteristic posture,
the posture that give us our reputation in the world,
is that of arms open wide.
God calls us, the church,
to be communities of joy,
in a world full of communities of anxiety,
That is our political posture in the world.
Remember how I used the word “political” last Sunday?
Today I mean it the same way.
It’s the way we are structured,
the way we are positioned,
the way we are postured to live with each other,
in relation to the world.
It is the church’s political calling to be a community of joy,
as a healing antidote in a world of anxiety.
Which brings us back to our own denomination’s
political manifesto,
which, as I said last Sunday,
has been our official vision statement for the last 16 years,
called, “Vision: Healing and Hope.”
It’s as relevant today as it ever has been—
this profoundly political vision statement,
that we are to be communities of grace, joy, and peace.
Last Sunday we reflected on our call as communities of grace,
this week communities of joy,
next Sunday, communities of peace.
So let us again recite this statement together.
Like any good political body,
at a political rally,
we ought to frequently recite our political manifesto.
You know, in a way, worship is a kind of political rally.
It’s where we get reminded of who we are,
as a people of God,
as a society of the kingdom.
It’s where God’s story intersects our story.
It’s where we get clear again about where we stand.
It’s where we lay out our platform.
So let’s recite it together, from the print either in your order of service,
or on the cover of the bulletin.
“God calls us to be followers of Jesus Christ and,
by the power of the Holy Spirit,
to grow as communities of grace, joy, and peace,
so that God’s healing and hope flow through us to the world.”
It is my hope and my prayer
that we will learn how to live as communities of joy
in a world of economic anxiety,
and all kinds of other anxieties.
It is my hope and my prayer
that we will stop letting our anxieties “strive us crazy”
and instead, will focus all our striving toward the reign of God,
and toward God’s purposes in this world.
That we will strive first, or seek first, the kingdom of God,
and the righteousness of God,
and let “all these things” be added unto us,
in God’s time, in God’s way, according to God’s desire.
I invite us to a time of prayer, with a sung response.
Turn to HWB #324, Seek ye first the kingdom of God.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Lord, we come to you with our cares and anxieties.
We are uncertain about our economic future.
We are concerned—no, worried—that the world is changing fast,
that the comforts and securities we’ve gotten used to
may not always be available in the future.
Help us hear, anew, these words of Jesus.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Some of us facing retirement in the next few years,
are watching our savings shrink and cost of living go up.
Some of us now in college
are watching our debt increase, and the job market dry up.
Help us hear, anew, these words of Jesus.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Some of us in business have seen our earnings plummet,
and made painful choices to lay off employees, or sell off assets.
Some of us are right now unemployed,
or inadequately employed.
Help us hear, anew, these words of Jesus.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Some of us are rethinking how generous we can be
to our neighbors, to our community, to our church.
Some of us are fearful that what we have now
may soon be taken from us,
and are closing our fists, holding on more tightly.
Help us hear, anew, these words of Jesus.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Some of us are worried about our physical security,
in a world of terrorism and war and greed.
Some are worried about our national borders,
are fearful of the strangers and aliens among us.
We see people around us as potential threats,
before we see them as potential friends.
Help us hear, anew, these words of Jesus.
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.”
Lord, we are people with many worries, many anxieties.
Work in us, we pray.
Help us remember who we are.
Help us remember we are your people.
That we belong to the God who feeds the ravens,
and who clothes the lilies.
That what we have is not our own,
but belongs entirely to you.
And is shared with us,
to use for your purposes in the world.
Help us now, and always,
to hear these words of Jesus ringing in our ears:
“Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness,
and all these things shall be added unto you, Alleluia.
Alleluia . . . alleluia . . . ”
—Phil Kniss, September 18, 2011
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Which brings us straight back to the question of the morning,
how should Christians live with each other,
and relate to the world around us?
What should our posture be, as a people of God?—
as a polis? a baptismal society? the body of Christ in the world?
How should the church live?
I suggest that the best response we can have in a world of dividing walls,
is to live and grow as communities of grace.
_____________________
The message of the apostle Paul to the church in Ephesus,
which Brian read a few moments ago,
is that the gracious, saving work of God,
accomplished through Jesus Christ,
is a work of divine reconciliation.
God’s abundant and miraculous grace
brought together that which used to be apart.
In Paul’s own words,
“You who once were far off
have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
Ephesians 2 is not about an individual, personal, internal
reconciliation with Christ.
It’s understood, of course, that as individuals
we do need to be reconciled with God through Christ.
But that’s not the thrust of this particular text.
Paul is getting real down-to-earth.
He’s getting political, in the good sense of the word.
He’s addressing the dynamics of human relationships
in a diverse community.
He’s concerned about the dividing of people from people,
taking place in the church.
He is concerned about the systematic discrimination,
the outright hostilities that characterized Jews and Gentiles.
And he is saying to these estranged peoples,
“In Jesus Christ, God has broken down the wall.”
“God is creating one new humanity in place of two.”
Because of Jesus, Paul says,
“You are no longer strangers and aliens to each other.
You are [all] citizens with the saints
and members of the household of God.”
God did this.
God took two different peoples—Jews and Gentiles—
different culturally, socially, morally, religiously.
Every bit as different as Eastern and Western culture today.
Every bit as different as Christian and Muslim religions today.
God took these two, who could barely coexist in the same town,
and put them together in the same house church!
Through Christ,
they were thrust together,
and made to sort things out by the power of the Spirit.
They only way these communities would even survive,
would be to become communities of grace.
Communities of persons who each knew themselves
as people reconciled to God only by grace,
just like their Jewish or Gentile brother and sister.
Because of these miraculous communities of grace,
popping up all over Asia Minor,
consisting of Jews and Gentiles together,
they became powerful demonstrations of the grace of God
to a sharply divided, and violent, world.
_____________________
That is still the role of the church in today’s divided world—
to demonstrate God’s saving and reconciling grace,
through their life together in the world.
To become demonstration plots of grace.
When MCC and other development organizations
go into an area to help farmers improve their production,
they don’t set up a classroom and lecture local farmers
about superior methods.
They plant demonstration plots.
They show what can actually happen.
The church needs to be a demonstration plot for our culture.
Today, maybe more than ever,
our culture needs communities of grace.
We have altogether too many
communities of condemnation,
communities of derision,
communities of aggressive one-upmanship,
communities of violent rhetoric,
communities of self-righteousness,
and communities of protective isolation.
Our culture is full of communities that have
divided themselves one from another,
building higher and thicker walls out of fear of the other.
There is a growing rift between Christian and Muslim,
West and East,
immigrants and citizens,
Republicans and Democrats,
doves and hawks,
gays and straights,
pro-choicers and pro-lifers,
developers and environmentalists,
and the list goes on and on and on.
We are gearing up for another presidential election year.
Election years, it seems,
tend to expose the deep cultural wounds that we carry.
Instead of putting our differences on the table
for rational discussion and mutual enlightenment,
people resort to personal character attacks.
They pit families and neighbors against each other.
They arouse intense emotions of fear, bitterness,
anger, or betrayal.
Partisan politics take on deep religious significance,
and our differences even divide congregations,
and Sunday School classes,
and families.
They cause otherwise kind, considerate people
to engage in derogatory labeling, stereotyping, and slander.
How might the church, in particular the local congregation,
the one called Park View Mennonite Church,
answer God’s call to be a Christ-centered community of grace,
in a divided society?
Stanley Hauerwas once said that when it comes to public life,
the best thing a church can do, is be the church.
That means we put our loyalty to the kingdom of God first.
It means that we embody, in our common life,
a centeredness and clarity of life,
that allows us to thrive as a Christian community,
not in spite of, but because of, the differences among us.
It means that we are willing to seek out deep conversations—
not happen to have, but seek out—
deep conversations between persons
with very different philosophies, and views of the world.
Sisters and brothers in Christ,
who happen to have very different ideas,
gather together to discern, by the power of the Holy Spirit,
how best to contribute our gifts to public society.
And out of those conversations come relationships
of such deep mutual respect and love
that it will capture the attention of a watching world.
Wouldn’t it be great if followers of Jesus everywhere
could show the post 9-11 world a different way to live together?
if they could be living demonstration plots of grace?
if seeds of grace could be planted, cultivated, nurtured,
and bear fruit?
Wouldn’t it be great if the church understood its calling to be
a community of grace in a time of social brokenness?
And if it developed a widespread reputation
as a community that exudes Christian kindness and civility?
as a community that speaks respectfully to,
and respectfully about, people we disagree with,
as a community that is amazingly generous
even in times of economic crisis,
as a community that goes to, and identifies with,
the marginalized and forgotten people of our society,
as a community that is willing to sacrifice its own agenda
to give itself to the greater good,
as a community that can live in deep peace with each other,
in joyful hope,
even when we have very different visions
of what the public good looks like.
It’s not that differences about public politics don’t matter.
Different visions of how to lead a nation
bring different results.
Sometimes those results impact millions of lives.
So let open and respectful public debate continue.
But in the church that acts like a church,
there is a greater, and more hopeful vision, that guides our life.
It’s a very different thing than the politically-expedient
“reaching across the aisle” on a rare occasion.
It is the building of brother- and sister-hood
made possible only by the grace of God in Christ,
and it is far more profound, and far more hopeful,
to a fragmented, and watching, world.
Let us, by the grace of God,
become that kind of community of grace.
—Phil Kniss, September 11, 2011
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September 10, 2011 -- memorial service for Freda Redekop
2 Timothy 4:1-8
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A meditation by Pastor Barbara Moyer Lehman on the occasion of the memorial service for Freda Redekop. Barbara reflects on Freda's life, and on the biblical text from 2 Timothy 4:1-8
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September 7, 2011 - funeral of Christopher J. Yoder
Romans 8:25-39
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The sudden and unexpected death of Christopher Yoder, has,
as one would assume,
plunged his parents, his brothers, and their families
into the experience of raw grief,
into a space where deep disappointment, sadness, and agony,
somehow coexists with an equally deep love, trust, and hope.
It has pulled them, not of their choosing,
into a place of profound mystery and paradox.
And those of us who knew and loved Chris,
those of us who know and love
Lawrence and Shirlee and their family,
have been pulled into those places with them—
places of grief, of hope, of mystery.
There is so much we don’t know.
So much that remains hidden to us.
So much that compels us to ask unanswerable questions.
Like . . .
Why does such deep human suffering go on and on and on,
without God intervening to stop it?
How is it that a young man’s heart and spirit
can so deeply desire to be whole,
while his mind and body remain so fragmented, and disordered?
There is so much we don’t know
about schizophrenia and other mental illnesses . . .
about the working of the human mind,
and just about . . . the ways of God in this world.
There are some kinds of questions for which
we won’t find easy answers in the scriptures, or anywhere else.
These are the questions we must live with, must struggle with.
Perhaps for the rest of our days.
There are many other people in this world
living with the same sort of questions, day after day.
There is so much pain and suffering and evil in this world,
that simply must go unexplained.
This afternoon as I open the pages of scripture,
I don’t open them looking for words to explain this tragedy to us.
I don’t open them to uncover the unknowable.
I open them to remind us of what we do know.
So, based on the words of scripture,
based on the stories of faith passed on to us,
and confirmed by our experience in this world,
today I wish to proclaim what we know.
This we know . . .
Christopher Jonathan Yoder was close to the heart of God.
I don’t make that statement lightly.
We know it to be true.
This truth is proclaimed in scripture over and over and over.
Perhaps it is summed up best in the words of Psalm 34:
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
and saves the crushed in spirit.”
We serve a God who is not removed from suffering,
but, in fact, draws especially close when there is suffering.
Chris was close to the heart of God.
Of that we can be confident.
Chris was in many different ways, broken and crushed.
So I trust completely the words of the psalmist,
that Chris remained, ever and always,
close to the heart of God.
Even when God seems far removed,
even when God seems utterly silent and absent,
we are persuaded by faith,
we are persuaded by the psalmist and other biblical writers,
when they say
“The Lord is near to those whose hearts are broken,
and whose spirits are wounded.”
The psalmist goes on to say,
“The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.”
The Lord redeems the life—
that is, the Lord returns full value to the life—
of those who seek God, who look to God for refuge.
Nothing is lost. Nothing is wasted.
Nothing is removed from God’s attention and grace.
Nothing is separated from God’s love.
One of the best-loved passages of scripture, and rightfully so,
is the end of Romans chapter 8.
That text is rich with meaning, rich with comfort.
In so many different ways, and repetitive ways,
it says that God is on our side, unequivocally.
Even when we’ve run out of words,
even when we can no longer pray,
God’s Spirit intercedes for us,
with deep sighs of divine compassion.
This we know. This we know—
there is nothing, but nothing,
that can tear us away from the love of God.
The apostle Paul was over-the-top in his confidence of that.
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ?
Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness,
or peril, or sword?”
“No! Of course not!” the Paul declares.
“In all these things we are more than conquerors
through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers,
nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers,
nor height, nor depth . . .
nor schizophrenia, nor addiction, nor depression,
nor disordered thinking,
nor any other kind of illness or disorder—
physical, mental, or spiritual—
nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God
in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Of course, I added a few words there, but Paul would have approved.
I think my words are included in “anything else in all creation.”
This we know.
Chris Yoder was, and is, close to the loving heart of God.
Nothing could separate him from that love.
And where the love of God is, the power of God is.
Yes, Chris was suffering deeply.
More deeply than I think any of us can imagine.
Especially in the last several years,
he was tormented, at times constantly, by voices,
by entities that were entirely real to him,
that spoke disturbing, demeaning, dehumanizing thoughts.
These voices seemed intent on destroying anything that remained
of Chris’ self-worth.
Day in and day out.
I cannot imagine the depth of his suffering.
Whatever you think about the origins and causes of schizophrenia,
and these voices and entities Chris would hear,
and the darkness and confusion that would envelop him,
it’s clear that this illness attacked not just one organ, the brain.
It attacked the whole personhood of Chris—
mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual.
It took what God created whole and orderly
in the personhood of Chris
and over time, fragmented it, dis-ordered it.
Whatever we might believe about the origin
of these destructive forces within Chris,
whatever our particular view
about the powers of darkness and the demonic,
this we know . . .
This we all know, and can all affirm.
These destructive forces—mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual—
were not of Chris’ own making,
and they were not of God.
They were oppressive.
They sought to destroy the whole person of Chris Yoder.
They represent the opposite of God’s good will for Chris,
and God’s good will for this world as a whole.
So does the fact of Chris’ death mean God lost
against these contrary powers?
No. Emphatically, no!
The powers that oppressed Chris did not, and will not,
have the last word.
The victory still belongs to God who created Chris
in his own image.
Scripture tells us that the same power
that raised Jesus from the grave,
is at work in our lives, and in the world today.
Does that power act to eliminate all suffering, pain, and death?
Of course it doesn’t.
It didn’t do that in Jesus’ own ministry.
It doesn’t do that in today’s world, as we all know.
But the power of God does act in this broken world,
and in our broken lives,
not only to be with us in our suffering,
but to redeem our suffering,
to transform it,
and ultimately, to preserve the divine image in us,
that image in which we were created.
It is not happenstance that this man was given the name Christopher,
which means “Christ-bearer,” one who carries Christ.
He was named Christopher by parents who believed, and still believe,
that their son carried in his person the image of God in Christ.
That image was never destroyed,
nor could it have been destroyed.
It was obscured, yes.
It was made difficult to see.
At least, it was hard for some to see.
But it was always there.
Clearly visible by those who loved him most,
and named him “Christ-bearer.”
And now, in his death—though no one wished it to happen this way—
everything that tried to obscure that image of God in Chris’ life
has been rendered powerless.
The living spirit of Christ,
which the “Christ-bearing” Christopher bore in his person,
is no longer trapped by that disease and its related powers.
Chris’ life, is a life that is now redeemed.
Returned for full value.
As the psalm says,
“The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.”
This we know.
Chris Yoder desperately sought refuge in God.
Yes, his disordered thinking seemed to take him to some
strange and confusing places in that search.
But he did not lose hope.
He kept persisting, kept hoping, kept reaching.
He kept seeking refuge, seeking rest in God.
So this we know.
“The Lord has redeemed the life of this servant.
The Lord has not condemned him who sought refuge in God.”
Rather, the Lord has given him rest.
May we all—and especially may Lawrence and Shirlee,
and Greg and Brad and their families—
also find rest in the rifted Rock, which is Jesus Christ.
—Phil Kniss, September 7, 2011
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