Stop Waiting for Jesus [Easter 7C - Revelation 22]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21

 

 

Stop Waiting for Jesus

 

Almost ten years ago I re-wrote a sermon.  On a Friday.  In the background, the babbling of a toddler clashed with the increasingly devastating news reports coming through my television screen.  As I struggled to find words, something worthwhile to say to my people, something to say about something unspeakable, the death toll kept rising.  Parents kept weeping.  I was a new dad and I was watching people live my worst nightmare.

 

Except for the exceptionally cruel people with their conspiracy theories, it felt like the entire nation wept with the people of Newtown, Connecticut.  How could we not?  Twenty children, little children, children barely able to tie their own shoes.  Six adult staff members.  All stolen away without mercy and without warning.  The victims walked into school, an elementary school, days before Christmas, to live a normal day and do normal things, fully expecting to hear the end of the day bell.  And then everything normal disappeared forever.  For the victims.  And for the victims that witnessed such terrible violence.  And for the victims that buried their children, their friends, their family members.  That buried hopes and dreams, pieces of their hearts and something of the future.

 

I cried a lot that weekend.  I cried as I preached that sermon I re-wrote.  That sermon I re-wrote on that Friday.  In the Advent season.  Almost 10 years ago.

 

I’m tired of preaching that sermon.  I’m tired of crying those tears.  I am tired of struggling to find the words to address yet another unspeakable tragedy.  I’m tired.  And I know you are too.

 

But more than that I’m sad.  And I’m angry.  And I’m frustrated.  I’m trying not to fall apart every time I see the faces of the nineteen children, every time I think about the horrible things their classmates saw, every time I imagine their parents handing over DNA swabs in exchange for the worst news one could ever hear. 

 

My heart hurts and my soul is weighed down.  I’m trying not to give up or give in.  I’m trying to believe that a better future is possible, that something will change, that things will be different – this time.  I’m trying to convince myself that I won’t have to preach this sermon over and over again for the rest of my life.  And I’m trying with all my might to keep my hope, even if my hope now wears scars.

 

What I desperately want to pray is, “Come, Lord Jesus!” like one would summon a genie.  And then wish the world better.  Just like John does at the end of the book of Revelation.  Things were bad for his people and he wanted things to be better, for all to be well.  For the pain and the tears and the death to stop.  And he knew that if Jesus returned and established his kingdom on earth then the nightmares would end and all would be well.  And all the bad things would be replaced by the happily ever after.

 

And I get that because I too just want it all to be fixed.  Of course.  I don’t ever want to see another grieved parent or hear about another mass shooting or read another long list of names.  I want us to wake up from this nightmare.  I don’t want to weep for children who never got to grow up or families torn apart.  I want all things to be well, for the pain and the tears and the death to stop.  I want what John wanted.  I’m praying his prayer.

 

But the truth is: we’ve been waiting for Jesus for almost 2000 years.  We’ve been waiting for Jesus to come back and wave his magic wand and clean up the mess we have made of things.  And in those 2000 years, too often the Church has been disengaged from and disinterested in the heartache and brokenness of this world.  All the while, humanity has been busily developing ever more devastatingly efficient ways to destroy each other.

 

Passivity is not our calling.  The Risen Jesus great commissioned his followers to continue this work of healing in the world.  The angels told the disciples who watched Jesus ascend to stop staring at the sky and get busy.  “Come, Lord Jesus” is meant to be the prayer of not just our lips, but the prayer of our lives.  Christ will come again but God doesn’t want us sitting on the couch watching the door.  We’ve got important work to do.  We have a world to change, in Jesus’ name.  It’s time to stop waiting for Jesus to do the work he is calling us to do. 

 

Terrible things happen here, but we cannot write this world off.  We cannot allow a lack of courage or lack of will to become a theology of otherworldly detachment.  See we say we’ve been waiting for Jesus to come and fix this world but in truth Jesus has been here all along.  That is the promise of the Ascension, the Feast we celebrated on Thursday.  The prayer for Ascension Day, in our Prayer Book, tells us that Jesus “ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things.”  The prayer for Ascension Day, in our Prayer Book, tells us that Jesus abides with us “on earth, even to the end of the ages.”  You see Jesus is already here.

 

Embracing those precious, little children through their nightmare. 

And weeping with those grieving parents. 

And comforting those traumatized teachers. 

Holding them all in his wounded hands and in his broken heart.    

 

And also Jesus is with us.  Jesus is in us.  Jesus is living through us even now.  We are the Body of Christ.  And so we already have the God-given power to make heaven of this earth.  We are not helpless.  We are not hopeless.  We are possessed by the Prince of Peace.  The One through whom all things were made can make things new through us.  The love in us is more powerful than hatred; the love in us is stronger than the forces of evil in this world.  The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead lives in you.  And that Spirit has conquered death before. And that gives me hope. 

 

I am tired, tired of all this killing, but I refuse to give up.  God is calling us to stand up to the forces of death in this nation and in this world.  To believe, in thought, word, and deed, that a better future is possible.  To defy the sprawling spread of despair with our stubborn hope. 

 

God is calling us to stop waiting for someone to come and save us.  Because the Savior is already here.  The Savior this world is waiting for is in this world, is living in you.