The Rev. Neale L. Miller

Service for  April 15, 2007

Texts: Acts 5:27-32/John 20:19-31

Title: “The Second Chance”

               I denied the Lord, not just once, but three times.  No, the years have not erased the memory of my betrayal, but I have learned to live with it, though the living with it has never been easy.  Just below the surface waiting to reassert itself when I feel stressed or inadequate my thoughts carry me back to the courtyard of the high priest, the scene of my treachery.

              It was a rash act to follow the processional that delivered my Lord up to the high priest.  But what was one more rash act likely to matter considering what I had already done. I was not accustomed to using weapons, and if I had had my wits about me I would have kept my sword in its sheath.  What was I thinking?  Outnumbered there is no way I or James, John, Thomas or the others could have prevented Jesus’ arrest. 

              A vain attempt to protect the Lord.  What was I thinking? I could have been arrested along with my Lord if the man I had attacked hadn’t been a slave. I took the slave’s ear, but made myself a fool in doing so.  The Lord put me in my place, demanding that I but my sword back in it sheath. 

                Rash, a bold display signifying nothing, I stepped back into the crowd until the soldiers led Jesus out of the garden to the high priest’s house.  The soldier’s torches lighting the way, we arrived at the house in less than a half hour.  The other disciples, save one, drifted off into the night before reaching the destination.  

              So there I was.  To do what? I can’t say.  Prevented from going into the courtyard itself, for guards had been posted, I drifted over to a fire to warm myself.  Should I stay or should I go.  Even as I considered my options, I became aware that those who were milling around the gate, for the word of my Lord’s arrest had by that time attracted the curious who were drawn to the excitement, [I became aware] that people in the crowd were sizing me up. “Why are they looking at me?”

              I wasn’t in suspense for very long, for one of the women standing next to me asked, “Why couldn’t she keep her voice down?” [one of the women asked] if I was one of the Lord’s disciples.

              It was a reflex more than anything, a spur of the moment reflex.  “No, not me,” I passionately declared.  Did I regret what I said? I was too much into the moment to feel anything.  All I wanted was to be left alone.

              I knew attention was focused on me, but I felt I would only draw more attention to myself by walking away, and attention was the last thing I wanted.  It’s too bad that my wishes were not consulted.  My sword play in the garden caught up with me, for one of the high priest’s slaves, a relative of the man whose ear I cut off, fingered me.  “Did I not see you in the garden with him [Jesus]? 

              I ask you, “What would you do in my place?”  In the midst of strangers, guilty of assault on a member of the high priest’s household, what could I do?  Afraid for my life, I did what I imagine you would have done in my place. 

              Unlike the first denial, which I earlier characterized as a reflex, this second denial was grounded in a motive any of you might respect, self-preservation. Because I lied deliberately to save my skin, this second denial was more painful than the first.  The truth, that I was Jesus’ disciple, could have spared me the personal recrimination I suffered later, but in that moment of decision, the fear for my life overrode any thoughts I might have entertained about how the lie might eventually affect my psyche. 

              I feared for my life, yet only upon denying my Lord the third time, and hearing the cock crow to seal my disgrace, did the weight of my denial fully descend upon me, a weight I continue to carry to this very day.

              Jesus’ prediction fulfilled.  How rash I had been to tell Jesus that I would lay down my life for him.  What a fool I had been in believing I could fool Jesus. He had me pegged.

              Jesus had put with my foolishness for a long time, my denial of him on that dreadful night only one of many occasions, albeit the most serious, on which I had denied him. Denial comes in my forms, my denial was my unwillingness to entrust my Lord with what he most wanted from me, my life. Oh, I wanted my life.  I had plans for my life.  It happens, however, that my plans for my life were not the same plans the Lord had for my life.

              I never really took to the notion of servant hood despite the fact that service to others was the crux of my Lord’s message.  He made it work for him, but I couldn’t make in work for me.  He was able to hold up under the stresses and strains that came with his public life, and I and the other disciples performed quite well ourselves, but to be honest, only with the Lord as a buffer. To a man we thought that the serving vocation would ultimately lead to a pay off. 

              Messiah, savior of Israel, with each passing day the idea that Jesus was the long expected one seemed more and more plausible. The prospect he would reign over the house of Israel intrigued each of us who shared in his work, it was particularly intriguing to me because I was his right hand man. I came to him Simon the fisherman, but it was not by that name that I became known to him and the other eleven.  Your name, he said, is Cephas, or Peter, which in the language of the Greeks means “rock.” “Rock alright, and porous to boot.

              I took not so secret pride in the fact that my Lord made me his second in command, though the word “command” hardly fit the position I filled. Jesus didn’t ask me to command, rather, as I think back over the role I played in his life, I believe I was set apart for special responsibility to extend his life to the world, and that is, in fact, the vocation to which I have dedicated my life these several years after his resurrection.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

              I denied my Lord, not just once, but three times. Sad to say the declaration that I would betray him those three times were among the very last words the Lord spoke to me. If only I had stood with the Lord in his need. It was not to be.

              I denied the Lord, and this may sound self-serving to say, but I wasn’t alone, and I’m not referring only to Judas Iscariot’s treachery.  Each of us whom the Lord chose to follow him deserted the Lord when he needed us most.

              Deserters sacrifice the world’s respect.  Deserters sacrifice their own self-respect. I was a deserter who allowed my best and most respected friend go to his death alone.  End of story.  At least I thought it was. 

              I, and the other disciples, thought that death was the end of the story as we, in fear that Jesus’ enemies might want to round up his followers, hid out in a house on the edge of Jerusalem.

             We were a solemn bunch, as you might well expect, this despite the fact that only that morning I had discovered the tomb where Jesus’ body had been laid was empty. While my Lord had told us that he would live again, I must tell you, I doubted.  Oh yes, the tomb was empty, I had witnessed that myself, but the fact that the body was gone could be explained on other grounds. Jesus enemies may have been up to no good and carried the body off somewhere.

                 We were a solemn bunch, and if the others were looking for me to take charge, it wasn’t going to happen.  Much had happened over the course of the last three days, but no one felt like talking. Who knows, we might have talked ourselves into something we would live to regret. Shocked, numbed, each one of us lived within the bounds of our own minds.  But then, suddenly, our minds were engaged by something that put an abrupt end to our meditations.

                   Was it truly Jesus?  Couldn’t be.  The signs on Jesus’ body, however, didn’t lie. The sudden turn of events sent us into shock once again, as you can well imagine. Shock first, but then, almost immediately, joy. We were in the presence of the risen Lord.   

                   Even as words formed in my mind to ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, he took control. His breath was fresh against my skin, a gentle wind that came suddenly and was gone. His words, however, have lingered onto this present day: “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

                  I betrayed the Lord, not just once, but three times, but each of us whom he called “brother” betrayed the Lord. Once betrayed could you ever trust your betrayer again?  As you ponder that I would ask you to consider what Jesus did.  He came to us, the very men who betrayed him, and entrusted us to continue his work in the world. Why?  He had other options

I know what I would have done.  I would have gone out and chosen a new team.  But despite our failures, Jesus came to us and sent us off with his blessing.

                 Over the years the other disciples and I have spent hours discussing Jesus’ motives for re-commissioning us to service.  Our discussion hasn’t yielded a final definitive answer for why he came back to us, but the answer that makes most sense to us is that while we may not have been the best team he could have found to carry his name to the world, we were his team.

                  Not the best, but we were his team. Looking back on the many years I have spent in service to my Lord and all the people I have met, I don’t know that I can tell you what a best team would look like, but I can tell you that the power in the word I have been privileged to carry is building a team.  I can look with pride on the efforts I have made, but more importantly rejoice that the Lord chose the likes of me, despite my failures, to continue his work.

                  My friends at Lakeview, I didn’t leave that room in Jerusalem on the night Jesus was resurrected the best specimen he might have found to continue his work, but never did I doubt I was part of his team. And, my friends, you are part of his team, you are my teammates, and not because you are the best he could find in Christendom, and not because you yourselves decided to be part of his team.  You are part of the team because he chose you to be part of the team, and that was his decision, not yours.

                As I have grown older, and I hope wiser, I have learned to be less anxious about the makeup of the team God is forming, and more trusting of the God who is forming it.  I know you share the anxiety of this community about the future of the neighborhood you have been serving for nearly one hundred years. Even as this community has lost much vitality, the vitality of your ministry has suffered under diminished numbers, resources, and the loss of key leaders.

               Yet the risen Christ I serve with my whole heart would have you to know that you are very much part of his team, and he has sent you a delegation of teammates from Maryland to affirm that reality.  Not the best, not the team you were nineteen months ago, but part of the team, you are definitely part of the team, Jesus’ team.

                Lessons learned over a long lifetime have taught me that I don’t have to be the best, but that I am expected to give my best where my best can help the rest.  Lakeview I pray that you will find your best to help the rest.

              It is time for my visit here to end, but before I do the Lord whom I serve in heaven wanted me to tell you that you have a “best” in you you haven’t even discovered yet. Through the window of your faith and trust you will see it, [you will see it], through the service your faith and trust inspires you will attain it. You will attain your best. AMEN

PRAYER

              Even as the initial word that you were risen was spreading, O Lord, you visited your disciples and breathed on them your Spirit. Not the best you may have chosen, but they learned to give their best, and that is all you asked of them, and all you ask of us.  Prone to acknowledge our limits before counting our gifts, you have placed more much more potential in us individually, in our churches, than we are using. 

Called to go forth and share good news, our attention often fastens on our dissatisfaction with what the General Assembly is doing, dissatisfaction with the music we sing in worship, or dissatisfaction with decisions made by the session or minister.  Forgive us for our lack of imagination in bringing your word to the world, and over exercised imagination in finding issues to dispute.

              O Christ we pray your blessing on the church, and the partnerships we in this church have been privileged to form with other faith communities around the country. We welcome our friends from the Gaithersburg church and celebrate our solidarity as Christians who are also Presbyterians.  Even as they fellowship with us today, may that solidarity you formed with your disciples inspire our two churches to celebrate our common heritage in mutually beneficial ways.

              Prince of peace is but one of the titles conferred upon you.  It is in peace you come to us, ever promoting peace. We acknowledge with profound sadness our failures to live at peace, nations rising up against nations, religious groups insisting that their way is the only way to enlightenment.

We are armed to the teeth, while the poor are neglected.  Security here at home is on everyone’s mind, but we tolerate budget priorities that stuff the defense cow while starving those who are most vulnerable. We send men and women to war with no plan for bringing them home. O Christ, we technologically sophisticated in preparing battle plans and building bombs, but we have no plans for achieving the peace you gave your life to secure.  In your mercy, protect us from ourselves lest we destroy ourselves.

              Living God, we lift up all who mourn this day, those who have experienced the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, the news that therapies are not working.  Abide with those who see no point in life, who through the haze of addiction stagger down one dead end after another.  Support children in school who are subjected to the ridicule of classmates, those who lack nice clothes, the slow learner, the overweight child, and the physically disabled.

              We pray for our city and those we have elected to conduct its business. Each day exposes some new crisis, some new frustration to vent.  May your Spirit reveal a way through the problems that tax us so. May old ways of conducting the city’s business give way to transparency and the wise utilization of resources.

              Abide with those who harbor anger this day, who feeling ill-treated seek to settle scores. Brace those whose wounded feelings isolate them from those upon whom they counted for support and encouragement.  Support the misunderstood whose words and deeds continually alienate them from those to whom they would draw near. 

              Support, O God, those who, detained without charge, and are deprived of justice. Be with the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay. Be with advocacy organizations that bring their plight into public view, and seek to give the imprisoned names and a faces.

              Father God, may your grace continue to disclose new ways and means to communicate the story of salvation, and may those who are called to bring the message of life do so with integrity and courage.

              For the fellowship of the saints we enjoy this day, and other blessings received through this gathering, wae pray the prayer our savior taught us….