A Reflection, a Farewell

Every Tuesday night I have the privilege of leading a bible study at the house of some of my wonderful parishioners. We start around 9pm and end as close to 10pm as I can get us without going too far into the night. Then we gather in the kitchen to continue to chat and eat whatever delicious food and sweets are present that night. By the time we leave (often somewhere between 10:30 and 11pm), I am so sleepy and stuffed that I zone out as another couple drives me home.

A few nights ago, we had bible study, realized that we only have a few weeks left together, and scheduled our very last bible study (which will end up being us gathering for food and possibly talking about Jesus a little bit). That evening as we drove home, I noticed the odd sound of country music coming over the Malaysian radio station. Thomas Rhett's "Die a Happy Man" washed over my ears and I smiled. Oo how I miss country music and seeing the stars at night and bonfires. I felt ready and eager to be "home" in the United States.

Then as I kept listening to the lyrics, I felt sorrow and maybe even regret. It's hard to name exactly the emotions that flooded into my heart, but it wasn't the joy of leaving, it wasn't the excitement of seeing my family at home.

"If I never get to see the Northern lights
Or if I never get to see the Eiffel Tower at night
Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand
Baby, I could die a happy man"

The premise of the song is that this man has some "bucket list" items, but he sings that even if he doesn't get to do all of those things, he would "die a happy man" just because he gets to spend his days with this woman. I know this feeling all too well. Daniel and I used to move the furniture and dance in the living room. Or we would turn his small apartment into a movie theater. We went on some pretty incredible dates, but my favorite times together have been when we didn't have to spend any money at all. We were just together and happy. We have dreams and plans, but even if they didn't work out, we are still so happy simply being together.

But as I heard this song, I realized that we did get to see our metaphorical Northern lights this year. We did get to see our metaphorical Eiffel Tower at night. And while it's true that our love would be just as incredible and we would be just as happy without these experiences, the truth of the matter is that we have done things this year and seen things that we never could have imagined in our wildest dreams.

And I don't think I've been as grateful as I should have been. I took a lot of it for granted. I think part of it is because I never could have imagined being here and seeing these things this year - or maybe everything happened so quickly that I haven't had a chance to digest it- but I won't use that as an excuse. Until I started to hear that song play over and over in my head, I don't think I fully realized how amazing our first year of marriage has been. Every once in a while we would turn to one another and say, "We are living in Malaysia. How odd the way life turns out," but I don't think it all sank in the way it did the other night.

We saw the famous tea fields of the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia.
We dipped our toes into oceans and seas that I never would have thought we'd visit in our lifetime.
We rode a 40 year old elephant and fed an eight year old elephant!
We watched the sun rise over Angkor Wat.
We watched the sun set on a beach in Bali.
We rode on a crazy cable car in Langkawi and walked on a long curved suspension bridge.
We spent part of Thaipusam at Batu Caves.
We saw the giant reclining Buddha at Wat Pho.
We ate authentic pad thai from a street cart in Bangkok.
We watched a storm roll into the city, sweeping over the Petronas Towers and KL Tower, on the helipad of a skyscraper.
I've preached in three countries and had my sermons translated into several languages.
We went to Universal Studios in Singapore.
We also went to the rooftop pool at Marina Bay Sands and rode the Singapore Flyer.
We had dinner on the rooftop of the #1 restaurant in Phuket.
We shared many of these memories with my parents and Daniel's brother.

And last, but certainly not least, we spent the entire year being welcomed and loved by people who knew nothing about us and committed to helping us grow in ministry, in life, and in love.

This past year has been more incredible, difficult, and surprising than we could have ever imagined. And I think I am just now realizing that this isn't normal. This life is a privilege and an honor. This year has been such an unfathomable blessing from God and I know that we will not soon forget the beautiful memories we have shared in this first year of marriage.

It also gets me excited about what God has in store for us next. We are ready- where will our next adventure lead us?

A Terrifyingly Beautiful Call

(Sermon at Luther House Chapel on April 10, 2016 - John 21:1-19)

Last year when I was working in a church, I was approached by a parishioner after preaching. He said, "Sarah, you should really stop starting your sermons with 'I love this story of Jesus.' Surely you don't love every story of Jesus. And anyway, you use the same beginning for every sermon."

At the time, I smiled sweetly and said, "Oh but I do love every story of Jesus. There is not a single story of Jesus and his disciples that does not bring me great joy. I love them. And I love telling them! But you're right - I should probably stop repeating myself."

And I do. I love every story of Jesus - but I understand his point. Sometimes saying I love every story of Jesus doesn't quite do every story justice. Take this story, for instance - I do love this story of Jesus and his disciples. The imagery is rich, Jesus nourished his friends - it is a beautiful scene. But I don't just love this story - this passage actually terrifies me.

Like the disciples, we really have no idea what we are getting ourselves into when we encounter God incarnate in Christ Jesus. We encounter God - or rather God comes crashing into our life - and suddenly things are turned upside down and inside out. It's terrifying.

My husband calls these "mountain-top experiences." And I would guess that many of you have had these experiences throughout your life. It could be while you are on a mission trip, it could be the moment you hold your newborn baby in your arms for the first time, it might be in the midst of great pain and sorrow... You can have these experiences throughout your entire life - in fact, for some of us, it is what brought us to church in the first place.

One of my mountain-top experiences happened in the Central American country of Honduras, literally on the side of a mountain in a small village.

It is the kind of experience that makes God feel so close. Suddenly and beautifully you know that you're walking on holy ground and the existence of God and the love of Christ are undeniable. And somehow, in some way, you know your whole life has changed. You know your identity has shifted and your goals and your mission in life are new and more important.

All of that happened to me on that side of the mountain in Honduras - everything change and all of a sudden I knew I wanted to do international mission work. I knew I wanted to travel the world and meet new people and fall in love with all of God's creation. I was so ready for the next adventure, I wanted to change my plans and change my life to go where God was leading me.

But ten days later, I was back in the United States and I decided not to quit seminary, I decided not to immediately become a missionary. I began classes again and I started work once more. And as I entered the usual drudgery of providing for myself and thinking of my own needs, I slowly forgot about all those powerful moments on the side of that mountain. The fire that had been blazing in Honduras started to diminish until it was just embers.

That's exactly where we meet the disciples in the passage this morning. They had been following Jesus for nearly three years - surely having mountain-top moments on a daily basis as Jesus healed people around him and taught them about scripture. Their lives had been changed, their hearts had been renewed and shifted in these moments. There was a fire lit in their hearts that was roaring for the mission that Christ had given them.

But then Jesus died, and the fire faded - they became scared and worried that maybe they couldn't live out this mission for Jesus. And then they witnessed him resurrected - another beautifully terrifying mountain-top experience.  But then he was gone again, and they were left with this mission that seemed too hard and too crazy.

And isn't that exactly where we are today? Two weeks ago, we came to church early (early early) and greeted one another with joy and thanksgiving that our redeemer lives! And we shouted "hallelujah!" And we sang songs and hymns with more energy than we should be able to muster at 6:30am.

And now, only a few weeks later we can barely drag ourselves out of bed to make it to church. We have forgotten that it is still Easter and we should still be shouting "hallelujah!" We have forgotten that Christ lives.

So the disciples are coming down off of all these mountain-top experiences and they know deep within their bones that everything has changed. They themselves have been changed but they are lost and they don't know where to go from here.

So they decided to go back to what they knew before Jesus had entered their lives and completely changed them. But if I know anything, it is that once Jesus enters your life, there is no going back to the way things used to be. You can try, but it will not be the same. So they went fishing. The disciples went back to the everyday drudgery of life. They did what they needed to do to provide for themselves and their families.

But I imagine that the reason they didn't catch any fish might be because they could feel that uneasiness, the restlessness, knowing everything had changed and that fishing was not what they were supposed to be doing. I imagine they felt something similar to what I felt when I came back from Honduras - I was restless and unsatisfied with life. Nothing seemed to be quite right because I tried so hard to go back to my old ways of living - before Jesus had come so close to me on that mountain.

And Jesus, as loving and persistent as he is, and wanting to make sure his disciples completely "get it" before he leaves them, he comes back and reminds them again. He reminds them who he is and what his mission is. He reminds them of whose they are and what their mission is.

And this is the terrifyingly beautiful part - Jesus doesn't just leave the disciples with a new job or a check list of things they need to get done as his disciples. He says, "feed my lambs, provide for my lambs, feed my sheep." He commands them to become shepherds. And if you know anything about being a shepherd, you know that "shepherd" is not a job title, it is an identity.

You can't take your "shepherd hat" on and off as you please. You cannot go out to the fields and throw food out to the sheep and lambs twice a day and call yourself a shepherd. Being a shepherd is 100% effort, 100% of the time. It is our new identity, it is our new mission and our new life. That is what it means to be a disciples of Christ.

Following Jesus is not easy and it is certainly not a list of things that we can check off our to do list every day. And that's why this passage is so terrifying to me. That is why mountain-top experiences are so terrifying and beautiful - because when God comes so close that we can no longer deny God,  we are in for real change. Our lives are no longer about taking care of ourselves. All of a sudden we are given all of these sheep in the form of our brothers and sisters in this world - our loved ones, our friends, our enemies, people in foreign lands we have never met - for whom we are called to lay down our lives. Just as Jesus laid down his life for all.

So this morning and throughout this season I pray that we take these mountain-top experiences, these moments when God comes so close that we suddenly feel changed and re-created, and we do not back away. When Jesus call us to feed his sheep and follow him, I pray that we understand the terrifyingly beautiful call to be his disciples and accept it - empowered by the Holy Spirit and renewed by the promise of our risen Christ and of the coming Kingdom. Amen.