April 18, 2010 – Acts 9:1-20, John 21:1-19
Acts 9:1-20; John 21:1-19
Defined by the Love of Christ, Not by Human Failure
Third Sunday of Easter – April 18, 2010
Does anyone here know who Fred Snodgrass is? Baseball fans? Uh-huh.
Snodgrass, besides having a great name,
was a center fielder for the New York Giants back in the day. Way back.
Like 1912. In that year, the Giants met the Red Sox in the World Series.
In extra innings, the teams were tied when a flyball fell into Snodgrass’s glove –
and . . . fell out again.
The Red Sox went on to win the World Series and that error dogged him for the rest of his life.
And it was a long life: he lived to the age of 86 until finally dying in 1974.
62 years after the fact – 62 years! – you know what his obituary said in the New York Times?
“Fred Snodgrass, 86, Dead; Ball Player Muffed 1912 Fly.” Really.
That’s how he was remembered. As if nothing else in his life mattered except his one big failure.
(cited in James Harnish, “Reflections on the Lectionary,” The Christian Century [April 6, 2010], 2)
Paul was on that track, well on his way to being remembered as
the first guy who really persecuted the early Christians,
followed by such illustrious Roman emperors as Nero, Decius, and Diocletian.
He could have been the first bad guy remembered among the early Christians.
His New York Times obituary might have read,
“Paul of Tarsus, Dead; Pharisee responsible for the death of many Christians.”
But something happened to Paul: Paul was encountered by the Risen Christ.
And, like we saw last week in his encounter with Thomas and the other disciples,
the Risen Christ doesn’t encounter those who fail him,
or who display unsavoury human failings, with the threat of destruction.
And he doesn’t encounter Paul in order stop him by whatever means necessary from
persecuting the apostles.
This is not how God in Christ deals with evil.
Rather, the risen Christ confronts this seemingly evil person with grace: love and forgiveness.
And it changes him: it changes him from a person who is bent on destruction into a person who
is bent on sharing the love of Christ with Gentiles across the known world.
This encounter in love isn’t just for Paul’s personal conversion: it’s for the sake of
God’s mission to love and bless and heal the whole world. Paul is sent after this.
That’s why God in Christ encounters each one of us in love:
in order to be sent to share the love of the one who has encountered us and
forgiven us for our failings.
Christ is meant for sharing.
Recently a monk was asked by an earnest if misguided Christian of a certain stripe:
Do you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Saviour?
No, the monk replied, I like to share him. I like to share him. (Christian Century, April 6, 2010, 42)
After his encounter with the risen Christ,
Paul needed to share this magnitude of love he’d experienced.
God redeemed his human failings – his awful human failings – and in so doing ensured that
Paul was not defined by his failings, but by the love of Christ, so much so that, indeed,
Paul’s obituary, were it to appear in the Times today would surely read,
“Paul. Encountered by Christ on the Road to Damascus.
Apostle to the Gentiles with message of the Wideness of God’s Mercy.”
Or how about Peter? Peter was on the same track.
Even more of a failure in some ways than Paul.
Here was a person who hung out with Jesus for years,
who apparently knew all about him and who when crunch time came
vehemently denied knowing him three times to save his own skin.
You remember the scene: we heard every detail on Good Friday:
the charcoal fire in the courtyard of the high priest, the accusations, the denial.
He’s muffed it. So he goes back to his old life, fishing.
And even at fishing he’s a failure: out all night and caught nothing.
His obituary was on track to reading something like,
“Peter, formerly Simon. Dead. Failure as a disciple. Failure as a fisherman.”
But something happened to Peter: he was encountered by the Risen Christ.
As with Paul, as with Thomas and the other disciples, he encounters Peter with
grace and with a commission, a job.
First, Jesus sets him straight on the whole fishing thing.
Then, he cooks Peter a delicious breakfast over a charcoal fire.
And around that fire, the very same kind of fire beside which Peter denied Jesus three times,
Jesus now gives him the opportunity to affirm his love for Jesus three times.
Simon son of John, do you love me?
Yes, Lord, you know that I do.
Then feed my lambs.
Simon son of John, do you love me?
Yes, Lord, you know I love you.
Then tend my sheep.
Simon, Son of John, do you love me?
Yes, already! You know everything: you know that I love you!
Then give your life to me and to my mission to love this world and every person in it the same way that I love you, and follow me.
And he did, eventually dying a martyr’s death in Rome for love of the one who loved him so.
After his encounter with the Risen Christ, Peter needed to share this immense,
forgiving, feeding love he’d experienced.
God redeemed his failure – his glaring failure – and in so doing ensured that
Peter was not defined by failure, but by the love of Christ, so much so that
Peter’s obituary, were it to appear in the Times would surely read,
“Peter. Also known as Simon. Main leader of the early church.
Tireless worker in behalf of God’s mission to love this world and every person in it.”
We all tend to identify ourselves by our failings and by our failures.
I know I do: we all do, right?
If only I were more this, or more that, or if only I hadn’t done that stupid thing way back when.
Well, we’re not alone. Along with Peter and Paul,
some of the most significant people in God’s story of healing this world
experienced tremendous failure but were able by the love of God for them to
nove beyond it and become the people God intended them to be:
Moses? He was a murderer. Jacob and Esau? Rascals from an exceedingly messed up family.
King David? An adulterer who managed to very neatly murdered his lover’s husband.
(see Dan Clendenin at http://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20100412JJ.shtml)
God redeemed these people from their failings by astonishingly forgiving them.
By inviting these people to leave them in the past, and step into a new future.
And . . . by giving them a new job to do.
God redeemed them from their failings for a purpose: defined by their failings no longer,
they were sent to make a difference in this messed up world that God dearly loves.
And this morning, the Risen Christ, in all his beauty, is present with us once again.
Standing on the shore, beckoning us to return from our preoccupation with other lesser things,
feeding us with what looks like the food of failure – broken bread and poured out wine –
but what is really the food of the greatest love you will ever know
And as he stands in our midst, the Risen Christ encounters all of us this day,
All of us who have failed him and his mission, and says:
I love you with a mighty love. Leave your failures behind. Leave your failings here with your nets. Come: we have love to share. Come: we have hungry people to feed. Come: we have the hurting to heal. Come: we have others who need to know that they are not defined by their failure. Do not be defined by your failure. Be defined by my love for you. And follow me.
Amen
Pastor Michael Kurtz
If you enjoyed this post, please consider to leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.
