Sermon
April 19-20, 2008
Psalm 66:1-8; John 14:1-14
The Risk of Loving
Hillary T. West
You may know of Marc Nikkel. Marc studied as an artist, a teacher, and a theologian and eventually he was ordained to the priesthood. He served faithfully in Africa; primarily in Southern Sudan among the Dinka people, where he was known as a white Dinka. Sudan, the largest country in Africa, has spent much of the 20th century in civil unrest. The threat of conflict and war still crouches throughout. Northern Sudan relentlessly imposes Arab influence and Shari’a (Islamic law) while Southern Sudan passionately defends its liberation as a Christian land.
It’s into this tension and conflict that Marc Nikkel enters in 1981. Marc’s journey begins as he is told to go “to the end of the world, and then [go] on from there another hundred miles or so.” (Nikkel, Marc, Why Haven’t You Left? p.19). The journey leads him to great joy teaching in a theological school in Mundri while spending his spare time learning the language and customs of the Dinka people.
But, his joy is short lived as the tragedy of war becomes all too real. By 1985 Marc and his colleagues cannot avoid the news of rebel forces invading. He writes that he doesn’t know how much longer the school can sustain itself. Ignoring the warnings to evacuate, Marc takes the risk and stays put. He can’t separate from the bond that has formed between him and his students.
Eventually Marc and his three colleagues are seized in the dark of the night and forced to walk scantily clothed and barefoot for days and weeks on end.
Throughout the journey SPLA (Sudanese People’s Liberation Army) guards, much too young for such a role, lead the way, poking and prodding their captives with AK47s. Ridden with parasites, the pricking of ticks, a diminishing diet of questionable food, the group finds strength in reading to one another, day after day from their only book, one volume of the Good News Bible. Despair and anxiety build each day as they question their fate. Together, choking out prayers of hope for healing and reconciliation, the group finds nourishment and sustenance as they gather around a “battered ammunition box” they fashion as an altar. A small piece of mealy bread, kissera, and their tiny ration of daily milk serves as the body and blood of Christ. And again, in him, and through him, and with him, they find the will to endure the abuse of their captors. After nearly eight weeks of captivity, their evacuation comes as abruptly as their abduction. Out of the air, miraculously having avoided gunfire, a plane appears, lands on the airstrip and representatives from ACROSS, the Christian relief agency make the rescue.
Once taken to safety, treated for infection, and dehydration, given warm baths and clean clothes for the first time since their capture, the team begins to reflect on the horror of their abduction. Often they are asked, “why didn’t you leave?” When the call came to evacuate and thousands fled, why didn’t these four khawajas, these strange white folks, make a get away?
Nikkel shares what is on his heart. He couldn’t leave his students, he confesses. Throughout his time with these eager young people, he found they shared more in common than they noticed in differences. Nikkel goes on to say that in his relationships with these young people, he encountered the Divine. He reminds us that we’re able to see Christ in all aspects of life. But, for him, what he calls, “small incarnation” became a daily experience. Every encounter, every interaction, every event revealed for him, the presence of God. Even in the midst of horrible violence, degradation and destruction; in the face of disappointment and unbelief, Nikkel looked straight into the face of Jesus, compassionately loving, caring, shedding the same tears each victim shared; intimately entering into the very pain of each frightened soul. That’s why he didn’t leave. The love of Jesus Christ was so profound, so strong, he couldn’t part from it. And, somehow, that very love, equipped him with a power to love in turn, to give freely of himself, his gifts, the Christ within him, making a difference he never knew possible.
Nikkel is too humble to tell us in his memoirs of how he served as a model for Jesus during this fearful time. He doesn’t refer to himself a missionary. He doesn’t talk about how he risked his life to care for his students; how he served day after day with the threat of violence hovering and how he refused to give into fear and mistrust. He does, expound on how these extraordinary people overcome suffering and pain only to live in the hope of a God who comes with the promise of forgiveness and love. But, he doesn’t boast about how he is found worthy and precious in their eyes as they take him into their community and love and trust him as one of their very own. Instead, what he shares is how he craves more than anything, a profound desire to be in a closer relationship with Jesus Christ; to be brave and bold enough to love Jesus the way Jesus loves us. He doesn’t know that his gifts of compassion and wisdom and perseverance will help change the lives of these beautiful people as he serves as a model of hope and promise. What he does know is that in loving these people, he will come to know the love of Jesus Christ as he has never known it before. So, he trusts. He turns to Jesus and responds to his call.
It’s risky business, this loving that Jesus asks of us. Often, it means suffering, pain, and sorrow. And for the disciples, such loving will most certainly bring sadness for the one they love is soon to depart. So, Jesus prepares them to continue loving him even when he’s gone. And, the loving will look different.
Jesus tells us that in believing in him, trusting in how he gives his life for us, we are Jesus in the world. We are the very beings who, because we’re filled with the love of Jesus Christ, move about revealing God’s love and forgiveness. We are those very souls who do the work of Jesus. Jesus demands this of us. He says, “In all truth I tell you, whoever believes in me will perform the same works as I do myself, and will perform even greater works.” What a loaded statement. Does it mean that we perform miraculous acts as Jesus does? Well, imagine, if we understood our gifts to be those very parts of us that come from Jesus’ love for us; his very trust in how we’re able to reach well beyond what we think ourselves capable of doing.
Imagine if we looked into the faces of one another and saw each other as Jesus sees us: in the likeness of God, good, living in loving relationship with one another, striving for what is better, what is just and right. This happens. Through Jesus, we use our gifts; we make a difference: By the end of the 20th century thanks to efforts made in public and environmental health the average life span of every American has increased more than 25 years. The Iron Curtain fell in Eastern Europe opening the door for freedom. The computer age has revolutionized commerce, banking, marketing and education. A record number of Americans, well over 75 million, now own their own homes. Over 17 million Americans attend college. The childhood leukemia survival rate has elevated from 4% to 80%. And 63 year old Joe Buford, after a lifetime of illiteracy, is now learning to read. There’s more. It is the Jesus within us who enables us to lean on the side of tenderness and mercy instead of a wall of resentment and shame; to push against all obstacles and reach for what is true; to live with the knowledge that we are worthy of Jesus’ love. He rejoices in us. In Jesus we don’t avoid or sidestep. Instead, we move in, we risk loving and we may well discover that in so doing, we will see the glory of God’s love for us.
So, here’s our challenge. Why not risk loving? Why not risk living a life completely grounded in loving as Jesus calls us to love? The potential is extraordinary. Doors are opened. New possibilities emerge. But, beware. There’s a discomfort level. Risking to love as Jesus loves and asks us to love, means life is messy. Plans may be disrupted. It also means the best is required of us. It means wrapping our arms around how much Jesus loves us, and knowing the power he has placed within us to do wonders. That, when we act in Jesus’ name, we are giving our all. That, because of him, we’re able and equipped to make change, to be his kingdom planters, here and now. That very first Easter morning, when risen from the tomb, in conquering death, he overcame fear, and worry and doubt, and gave to us the gift of him in us, forever. He tells us, not to be troubled. Believe in him, trust and we will always know his love for us. All we have to do is risk loving him. And, he knows we’re up to the challenge; up to the challenge to live out our mission of growing, inviting and living.
Long ago our ministry to youth outgrew the confines of the garage. You’ve seen remnants of their activity on the lawn throughout the campus, in the worship space and in the trailers. Adult offerings continue to give birth and grow. Groups emerge, ministering to one another through teaching and study and prayer. Parenting classes help to encourage and support; couples and marriage enrichment classes remind us of the covenant promise God has made with us; Bible studies open our hearts and minds to a deeper trust in Jesus. Christ Church bursts with energy at its call to serve the community and the world. We host CARITAS, providing not just a meal and shelter for those in need. But, rather, we find that we’re building relationships, connecting, learning to love the Christ in one another. This week, we’ll begin classes for those who wish to learn English as a second language. My guess is that we’ll not be surprised at the new friendships that will emerge, as trust builds, and that we will grow in understanding with our new friends. Our preschool continues to blossom since its beginning last year with 24 students in two classes to 66 students in 5 classes next year who will run across our lawn daily, eager to soak in the love and joy that comes from this place in those who teach and mentor. This morning 35 men showed up for a breakfast of steak and eggs. They’ll continue to meet and invite others to join them as they explore ways to know one another and to know Jesus.
These are only a few of the countless activities and offerings in the life of Christ Church. We have a wonderful challenge. We can’t stop being Christ in the world. We’re called to change. There’s passion and energy about who we are as Christ’s own and where we’re supposed to be.
Over these past months we’ve attended house meetings, congregational gatherings, and spent time with the building steering committee and the sanctuary team sharing ideas about building plans for Christ Church.
Record numbers of us have completed a survey. Thanks to your efforts, the Episcopal Church Foundation, gathered your input into a feasibility study that evaluates our ministries, our resources and our needs. Over these next days and weeks, you’ll hear from your vestry and Paul the results of the exciting news of this study.
We can give thanks for much; for much about how Jesus calls us to be him in all that we do; to risk loving. And Jesus means, in this loving, that we take action. Action to do what is the very best of us and then to look even beyond.
He says, simply, “ask me”. “Ask me,” he begs. Ask Jesus what is the action we need to take for him. He promises, that if we do, if we ask in his name, he will do it; he will give us what we need to do what ever is demanded of us; to be his people, his church, his faithful community, caring for one another; building each other up, always loving. Because when we love, there is no fear. When we love we can trust. When we love, we live with the very promise that Jesus is with us.
In such love, we can’t help but rejoice. As the psalmist tells us, “be joyful in God…,bless our God, who holds our souls in life and will not allow our feet to slip.” Alleuluia! Alleulia!
