Desperately Seeking Jesus (sermon draft 1/20/08)

John 1:29-42

A couple of scenarios, to illustrate…

Scenario number one. I’m sitting at home on the couch, minding my own business, watching another scintillating episode of that informative television show, American Idol, when suddenly I’m hungry. No mater that we finished dinner barely an hour ago. I’m starving! So, I drop my remote, hot foot it into the kitchen, and open the fridge. And stand there looking. Top shelf, middle shelf, bottom shelf, crispers. Full to the brim with food. Top shelf, middle shelf, bottom shelf, crispers. Not one thing that looks like something I’d want. Middle shelf, top shelf, bottom shelf, top shelf—(forget the crispers only vegetables there). Bottom shelf, door, freezer—nothing!

Scenario two. I’m working in my office, typing away on the sermon for the week, trying hard not to make it so exciting and compelling that people jump right up out of their seats and run to do the Lord’s work immediately, leaving the church empty—when I get a sudden notion. I need the scotch tape I left in the pulpit after last week’s children’s sermon. Because you never know when you might have to scotch tape something.

So I get up and start towards the sanctuary. On the way, however, I see that the flowers have moved off the shelf in the sacristy—leaving room for the box of nativity figurines sitting on the arm chair in my office.

So I go and grab the box, and stow it up on the shelf, safe and sound—at least till I get my hands on it next Christmas Eve. That done, I walk into the sanctuary, to get what I originally wanted. But, suddenly, I catch a glimpse of life in the hereafter. Because I can no longer remember what I came here after! Not a clue.

Scenario three. I’m walking into the ER in a hospital in Norway, Maine. It’s after midnight and I have been called in because I am the volunteer chaplain this week. It had been quiet up to this point—I made the usual rounds to visit patients on Wednesday, and never expected to get paged—we very rarely did. But this evening a 50 year old man and his wife went to see the races at Oxford Plains Speedway just outside of town. They had a wonderful time cheering on their favorite drivers. Then, he left to go to the restroom while she stayed put—holding on to their bleacher seats. He never came back.

And now she is sitting in the sanitized florescent bleakness of a hospital trauma room with his dead body, son and daughter-in-law nearby—all waiting for the chaplain to come and make sense of it all. It’s a room in which all mental and spiritual resources are tapped out just trying to assimilate the realization that he’s not waking up, that he’s not walking out of here, that he’s not going to be there for birthdays and grandchildren and Christmases to come, that he’s dead…that there is no hope. And I’m walking into that ER, God’s representative in a room in which God is not so welcome at the moment, to talk with a family desperately seeking something—anything.

Another scenario, this one from today’s gospel. The Baptist points his disciples in the direction of Jesus, calling him the Lamb of God, not once, but twice. That’s not something you’d call just anyone. That’s Messiah talk! Well, exactly two of those disciples can take a hint, so they go over to Jesus, and perhaps at a loss for what to say, they just take to following him, like puppy dogs. Following from place to place, seaside to hillside and back again. Jesus turns and sees them tagging along, and he asks them a strange question. Not what you’d think—not, “Why are you following me?” or “What do you want?” or “What are you, stalkers?” But this: “What are you looking for?” What are you looking for?

The answer is deceptively easy—“You—we’re looking for you, Jesus bar Joseph of Nazareth, the one whom our master calls Lamb of God. We’re looking for the Messiah. The anointed of God. We’re looking for power, for freedom, for salvation, for righteousness, for justice, for peace, for healing, for forgiveness, for wholeness, for hope! We’re looking for you, Jesus. We’re desperately seeking Jesus, the Christ. Are you he?”

The answer is deceptively easy—but the two tag-alongs can’t even wrap their mouths around the simplicity of his name. Instead they blurt out, “Where are you staying, teacher?” And Jesus’ answer fits that question, but it also invites them to find the answers to all their unexpressed longings and questions, as well. “Come and see,” Jesus says to them—and to us.

I wonder. What are you looking for? Do you know? As you sit there in your chair and wonder if the Annual Meeting will be over before the opening kickoff, what are you looking for? As you contemplate later on the difference between our response to God’s abundance and the cost of doing ministry in this mission outpost—what are we looking for? As you think about where this church as been and where we want it to go—what are we looking for? Do you know what you’re looking for?

As a visitor, who was somehow drawn here this morning—by an invitation, perhaps, or after looking us up on the internet—as a visitor do you know what you’re looking for here?

As someone who is hurting this morning, knocked down and dragged about by life, wondering if God is supposed to be our protector why he was lying down on the job in your case—as someone who is mad at God or doubting whether God’s really there at all—what are you looking for? What are you looking for here?

The answer is still deceptively simple. What are we all looking for? (Jesus) Jesus is the one we’re looking for. The problem often is this: we can’t get our minds to wrap themselves around that concept. Like those two disciples who asked Jesus, “Where are you staying?”, we choose to look for something else in which to place our trust. We choose to look for anything that will give us instant relief from our problems, instant gratification for our efforts, and instant answers to our questions.

Remember scenario number one? Top shelf, middle shelf, bottom shelf, crisper? That illustrates those of us who hunger for something—though you can’t put a finger on just what. And despite all the world has to offer—good and bad, you just can’t seem to find what you’re looking for.

And scenario number two? That represents those of us who have been to the mountaintop, have experienced God’s love flowing into them. But then life got busy, the kids have the flu, and concerns and worries creep in. And you just can’t seem to recapture that feeling, that feeling you used to have each Sunday as you worshiped together.

Number three doesn’t really need explanation—it stands for those of us who have come to the end of the rope, whose faith has been stretched to its elastic limit, those beset by disease, dysfunction, and disaster—those for whom there appears to be no hope. Those who have just about given up looking.

To all these ones, to all these misguided and mistaken searchers, who ask all the wrong questions and chase after the wind, Jesus says, “Come and see.”

When nothing satisfies, come and see what Jesus has to offer. Grace, peace, and mercy. Forgiveness in the wine and bread that is his body and blood. See the poor being cared for, the rich joyfully giving of their resources, the sick and imprisoned visited and prayed for.

When you can’t remember what first brought you here, remember what Jesus has done in your life and come and see what he’s doing right now in the life of this church. See children grown into fine young Christian adults. See families grown to include new grandbabies baptized at this font. See the people served. See the smiling faces at worship. See the new members God has brought us. Look into the future and see the vast potential God has entrusted to us—to us—Messiah Lutheran Church

And when all hope is gone, come and see that Jesus is hope. Jesus is the light. Jesus is life. See people praying for each other, delivering meals, standing in solidarity with those for whom the bottom has dropped out of life. See beyond the bleakness of the world to the community of faith where hope is taught, sung, read, preached and lived. See beyond this life to the promised kingdom of God where there are no more tears, no more sickness, no more broken-ness, where there is peace, where there is mutual respect.

Yes, we’re all looking for something to fill that Jesus-sized hole in us. The good news for today is that there is a Jesus-sized Jesus given by God to fill that whole. To make us whole. Where does one find it?

Come and see… Amen