Today

breakfast before a prayer,
a look out the window
as I heat a bottle,

thumb a Hebrew lexicon, looking
for the word "sack-cloth,"
my ear pins back at a tiny moan.

I clean up vomit in three places:
the play pen, the bouncy seat, my shirt
man in episode of ER loses his wife.

waiting for Kris to come home
I watch Ava play with her foot
and wonder about dinner

I have watched the three windows
in our living room illuminate
a cradle swing and draw dim again

a theology text book rests
on the coffee table and I
breathe exactly with my daughter.

An attempt at prayer

I confess my
damp eyelashes,
heavy and pressed
between lids. I looked
but could not keep
my eyes on the sun.

Sermon Audio


The Drama of Resurrection
David Ayres








Morning Coffee

blackbirds are screaming
on telephone poles, irate shrills
provoked by daybreak.
They are so loud
starbucks can't hear my order,
"black?," No, "one cream, one sugar."
I roll my window and sip
bitter coffee disguised as palatable,
this is why we like it, the disguise.
there's a hearse rolling down
a street of paint-chipped houses
and my eyes are all that follow it.
it might not have anyone,
I say to my daughter,
but she is asleep and does not hear me.
I watch until sunlight,
glinting off black paint,
directs my eyes to the road before me.



A Thought: Philopoetica

If we are thankful,
not for freedom
but for the relative lack
of negative consequences
in the exercising
of our freedom
we are no longer free.



Morning

The sleepy smell of sweat
and cold wake me.
I wait for you to notice
the absence of my warm
breath against your neck.
You roll towards me and stretch
like first light spreading across
still water, alone with the sun.

Turritopsis Nutricula

I read this article today about an immortal jellyfish. This poem is in response.

-------------

It will not be long now
before we chant your name,
invoke your biological heritage,
You will be a body nailed
to the black wax bottom
of a dissecting tray
and somewhere in a lab
a mortal will whisper your secret
to his laptop.
Then it will be finished.
Your blood will sell
to the highest bidder
and sold again.
All of this while you go on,
immortal, the deep water dance
of your crystal tentacles forgotten.


The Path of Life

I am convinced
that the path of life is a dirt trail
where wind-borne sand
moves, and floats, and pelts
God's children
until it settles finally
and the path
made wholly new.

Trust

A tree does not coax
the wind to bring rain
and the apple that falls
to be eaten by worms
does not complain.

A Sermon

Below is the sermon I preached this previous Sunday at Round Rock Church of Christ. I've had the opportunity to preach there before and it was a blessing to be a part of worship both times. I apologize for the erratic punctuation. When writing a sermon I punctuate the text in a way to help me speak it, I hope that it helps you get a sense of what this sermon would "sound" like. Also, the text that is italicized is a note to myself that I need to emphasize that phrase. Either it will appear again, like a refrain, and I want to make sure the audience draws a connection between the two (or three) repetitive usages or it is just a really important part. Thought I'd let you in on a couple of my trade secrets. Enjoy!

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"The Drama of Resurrection"

John 11:17-48

Jesus is a man on the run. He is a wanted man. In the previous chapter Jesus escapes first being stoned and then being arrested. Tensions are running high because Jesus is making some pretty lofty claims for himself. “I am in the Father and the Father is in me.” Some call it truth, many call it blasphemy. And the face-off that Jesus had with the Jews in chapter ten is lingering in the air of chapter eleven. “I have shown you many good works from my Father. For which of these are you trying to stone me?” Jesus asks. The response comes, “We are not stoning you for a good work but for blasphemy. You, a man, are making yourself God.” Jesus tells them you can’t have one without the other, the good works and my identity as the Son of God are one in the same, it’s a package deal, take it or leave it. The Jews are decidedly leaving it. So Jesus goes into hiding.

And it’s in hiding that Jesus hears about Lazarus. His dear friend who is buried in Judea, where his enemies wait for him. For Jesus to go back means life for Lazarus but death for himself. Resurrection is dangerous work.

By the time Jesus gets there, the family and close friends are already back at the church eating lunch, sharing memories of Lazarus. He’s late to the funeral. If Mary and Martha followed Jewish custom they had visited the burial site everyday for the last three days to make sure Lazarus was actually dead, that his soul hadn’t returned to his body. During those three days it just wasn’t quite over yet for them. Jesus shows up on the fourth day and Lazarus is not just dead, he is way dead. What’s done is done, Lazarus is gone, the funeral is over, it’s time to mourn and try to move on.

My Granddaddy passed away this last October, he died unexpectedly after falling in his home. Ava Kate was only a week old at the time but we made it to the visiting hours. I’ll remember a lot about those few hours in the funeral home. My Granny meeting Ava for the first time, hearing stories about the kind of man Granddaddy was, seeing my dad weep. But the thing that haunts me most about those few hours was seeing my Granny touch Grandaddy’s hands and saying to me “Oh, they’re so cold.” She kept saying that all night. She’d touch his hands and say “Oh, they’re so cold.” As if she thought they might warm up again. When we were leaving I heard her say, “Bye-bye Granddaddy, we’re leaving now, I’ll see you tomorrow.” It just wasn’t quite over yet for her. But the next day was the funeral. She broke down between my dad and my aunt as they said their last good-byes. Then they closed the coffin. And that’s when Jesus shows up. It’s not until then that Jesus shows up.

It’s Martha who greets him and you can hear the pain in her voice. “If only you had been here.” Martha is reeling in the world of “what if.” It’s that tortuous place that all those who mourn put themselves. That churning in your gut when you think that just last week they were here, if you had just said this or done that… what if. It’s the sick realization that there is no going back now. What’s done is done, Lazarus is gone, the funeral is over, it’s time to mourn and try to move on. Martha’s eyes are set on the past. “Lord, if only you had been here.”

Jesus offers a word of consolation. “Your brother will rise.” He lifts her chin, moves her eyes out of the past and invites her to look into his eyes. But she can’t see him. She looks up to the clouds and says, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” She is not without faith. But she can’t see what is right in front of her.

So Jesus takes her face in his hands. A hand on either cheek, looks into her eyes and says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” Don’t look to the past, don’t look to the future. I’m right in front of you. I’m right here. Walking, talking, loving, eating, smiling, coughing, crying, hugging Resurrection right in front of you. “I am the resurrection and the life.”

The power of resurrection is that it has a face. Resurrection has a name: Jesus of Nazareth. We have hope, not because of a future we wait for but because of a future we have right in front of us.

My wife makes fun of me because I like McDonald’s coffee. I’d take a cup from McDonalds over Starbucks any day. We have a ritual of going through the drive-through on our way to church on Sunday mornings. She gets a Dr. Pepper and I get my coffee. The funny thing about doing that every Sunday is that you see the same people over and over again. There is one woman who works there, she takes my money and sends me up to the second window. This woman is striking to me because she has a tattoo on her neck, it’s one word: Hope. That is something to see in a McDonalds drive-through, hope tattooed on her neck. And I don’t know this but if I had to guess why she has that tattoo I’d say it was the name of her daughter. I don’t know this but I’d guess she’s held Hope in her arms. She’s changed Hope’s diaper. She’s held Hope’s hand. She’s washed Hope’s face. She’s probably sung to Hope, and eaten a meal with her. And I don’t know this but if I had guess the name of the woman at McDonald’s, I’d say it was Martha. Martha who has hugged Hope’s neck, Martha with Hope tattooed on her neck.

We’ve got to learn to see what Martha learns to see. The conversation that Martha has with Jesus is critical to the story. It isn’t the climax of the narrative, but it is the theological highpoint of the text. We have to read the rest of our story with Jesus’ words in our minds. The rest of the story is an elaboration on “I am the resurrection and the life.” Jesus is telling us that what he is about to do is not just about the resurrection, it’s about who he is. When we look at Lazarus we don’t just say “Praise God, he raised him from the dead.” That’s only part of picture. The kind of doxology, the kind of praise this story invites us into sounds something like: “Praise God, he is God!”

You can hear it in Martha’s confession of faith. She says, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” That is profound faith.

Mature faith is not “Lord, If only you had been here…” I know some “if only” Christians. I remember back a while, I was feeling pretty good about my spiritual life. Me and God were tight. I’d talk to him and I tried to listen. Just trying to do what a good Christian should do. Well, I was out driving and I saw a guy at a stoplight and he looked pretty ragged. Big beard and a filthy Coors light sweatshirt. He was begging for money. He had a sign that said, “Need Help, God Bless.” And I’m a good Christian so I talked to God, I said, “Lord, if you want me to help this man, give me a sign.” I waited and I looked, no sign. Then the light turned green. I would have helped him, I really would have, “If only” is a powerful thing. I’m an “If only” Christian an awful lot, how about you?

But that’s not the only obstacle to Mature faith. Just as dangerous as “If only” christianity is Future-tense christianity. Jesus tells Martha “Your brother will rise,” And she slips into Future-tense mode, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” It takes faith to say that, no doubt. It takes incredible faith to be a future-tense Christian, to look around at the suffering around you say with conviction: it won’t be like this forever. A Future-tense Christian, no matter how dark the night, never takes their eyes of the horizon, faithfully waiting for the sun to rise. But that is only half of faith. We are waiting for the glory of God to be revealed, we are waiting for God to make all things new, we are groaning with all of creation for the new creation which God will establish. BUT! God has already begun that work in Jesus Christ. “I am the resurrection and the life.” We are waiting for the glory of God to be revealed, and he has already revealed it in Jesus. “I am the Resurrection and the Life!” We are waiting for God to make all things new and he has already made things new in Jesus. “I am the Resurrection and the Life” We are groaning with all of creation for the new creation God will establish and he has already established it in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

When Jesus asks us “Do you believe this?” we say with Martha, “Yes, Lord. We have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” And Now we’re ready to hear the rest of the story.

(Read vv. 28-48)

Now it’s Mary’s turn to talk to Jesus and we hear echoes of what Martha had to say. “If only you had been here…” But this time Jesus doesn’t correct or console her. He just asks a question. “Where is he?”

My wife makes fun of me because I like to listen to NPR, that’s National Public Radio. If I am in the car --I have it on. Kristen likes to call it Old Man Radio. So I’m listening to “O-M-R” the other day and my favorite program is on. It’s called Speaking of Faith and Krista Tippet, the host, was interviewing a chaplain for the parks and wildlife service in Maine. The parks and wildlife service is responsible for recovering victims of animal attacks, drowning, and other wilderness accidents. Needless to say, the chaplain has a hard job. But it was fascinating to me to hear her describe the work she does. When the family hears the news she says they most often sit on the floor and weep while she joins them. She holds them, she is just there, a presence in the midst of suffering. And then, she says, the most remarkable thing happens. After 20 minutes, and it’s almost never more than 20 minutes she says, they get a hold of themselves, take a deep breath, and ask a very practical question. Most of the time they ask: “Where is he?” It’s that question that becomes the hinge the rest of their life swings on. It’s that question that becomes a pivot point, it’s a change of direction. It will be the question that marks the beginning of their journey towards healing. And It’s that question that let’s us know that Jesus is up to something, it’s the pivot point in our narrative. In response to the mourning of those around him Jesus asks “Where have you laid him,” and we know The Resurrection and the Life is on the move.

When he sees the tomb it’s his turn to weep. It’s all caught up to him I think. His conflict with the Jews. The time spent in hiding. Coming late to the burial. The sorrow on Mary and Martha’s face. The voices and tears of all the mourners. All of it has culminated to this point, and he weeps. The resurrection and the life faces death in all of its sorrow and power to destroy… and he weeps. And behind him, in the background you can hear the conflict building. Some see the weeping Christ and see love for a dear friend. Others see a negligent healer. Both think the story is over. But if you listen carefully you can hear John whispering to us. Reminding us: I am the Resurrection and the Life

And it is then that the Christ stands up. The story is boiling over at this point. He’s got everyone’s attention. What will this weeping Messiah do? And Martha’s stomach drops when she hears his words. “Take away the stone.” “But Lord… it’s been four days… the smell…please…” And Jesus simply tells her, “Don’t you remember our earlier conversation, have you already forgotten.” The whisper comes again, stronger: I am the Resurrection and the Life.

As the odor of death comes over them Jesus offers a prayer. “So that they know that you sent me.” John’s voice is getting louder: I am the Resurrection and the Life. I am the Resurrection and the Life. I am the Resurrection and the Life. Until Jesus says it, “Lazarus come out.” John’s voice goes silent as we hear Lazarus’ footsteps. Jesus tells them, through smiling teeth, “Get the guy a shower and a change of clothes, he smells!”

And I’d like the story to end there but it doesn’t. News spreads fast. It’s not long before the Pharisees and the chief priests hear about it. And they are devastated. Resurrection is a threat to them. Because they know it’s not about the miracle, it’s about who Jesus is. People will believe this blasphemer. He will steal more faithful out of the flock if they let him continue. They must end him. Resurrection has a price.

It’s interesting that in the Gospel of John it’s the resurrection of Lazarus that gets Jesus killed. It’s not what we want to hear. We want the next scene to cut to Lazarus with Mary and Martha eating dinner together - not a secret meeting of Pharisees plotting Jesus’ death. And maybe if this were a lifetime movie that’s exactly what we would see. But it’s not, this is gospel. And in the gospel Resurrection changes things. It challenges us. It gives us a choice. The resurrection of Lazarus takes us to the cross.

My wife makes fun of me because I have a thing for crucifixes. She thinks they’re creepy and she’s probably right. But I like them because they bring me face to face with the choice I have to make. I took a tour of a Catholic church once. The priest showed us around pointing out the fountain of holy water, the confessional, the stations of the cross set up along the back wall. When we reached the front of the church there was really only one thing any of us saw, a life-size crucifix hanging conspicuously on the wall. It was clear that - if you saw nothing else, you were supposed to see this, it was the focal point of the entire worship space. Someone in our group asked the priest, “What’s up with the crucifix?” And his answer was this. “The crucifix reminds us that we can choose to cross, the resurrection is the work of God in us, only God can choose to resurrect us.”

That’s where this story leads us. It’s not about Lazarus, it’s about who Jesus is. When we know that he is the Resurrection and the Life, when we believe that he is sent by the Father, when we can confess alongside Martha “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” Then and only then we can choose the cross, we can lay our lives down for others, because we trust that God will not leave us to rot in the tomb. Because God does not just promise us Resurrection, he is resurrection himself and in him all things will be made new. Praise God, because he is God!

We are glints of light reflecting You

We are glints of light reflecting You,
the way moonlight flickers
on waves of lake water:
distortion upon distortion,
distortion and then true,
contorting until dawn
when your breath
stills the surface
with light
and fog.