"With the Holy Spirit"-Sermon for Easter Sunday, Acts 10:34-43:
I have noted before that, in a real sense, our family of faith began with a dream. Ashley, my wife, and I were in Mexico some 17 years ago now, studying Spanish in a language immersion program. I had already accepted the Bishop’s invitation to plant an unnamed new Episcopal Church in the Avery Ranch, Brushy Creek area…but was yet to officially dive into this new ministry. Ashley and I were having dinner at a rooftop restaurant in San Miguel and dreaming and scheming about what this new community might be like and, specifically, for whom it might be named. Ashley was the first to mention Julian, a favorite Christian Mystic, author and Holy Woman of hers. Though I am sure I had a passing affair with Julian in seminary, honestly, at that point, I really did not know that much about Julian or her writings. Well, that very night, as we laid our heads down to sleep, I had a vivid dream that felt as much like a vision as a dream, a God-given vision. Over my lifetime, I have felt like it has been in dreams that God has most clearly spoken to me. This particular dream, or vision, was of a community gathered in a hill country setting…remarkably like the very nine acres we sit on today. There were lots of children laughing, playing, running in all directions…like most Sunday mornings in this church. There were bells ringing…like from the bell tower that sits above us in this very moment. We were preparing to celebrate a wedding, which we have hosted in this very space in our first months here. And, maybe, most importantly, I remember, very distinctly, that the church was named St. Julian’s. In the act of dreaming, God had provided our name, a vision of our future to work toward, and our Matron Saint who has been a powerful guide and inspiration from our planting to this very day. This Easter Sunday.
The Old Testament prophet Joel speaks of the power of what I will call a Holy Imagination that God would release into the world at the first Easter…at the very moment the resurrected Jesus would emerge from the tomb. He writes, “Then afterwards I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions…in those days, I will pour out my spirit.” At Easter, in the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord that we celebrate today, God did not just restore one man’s life unjustly taken on the hard wood of the violent cross. Instead, in Jesus’ resurrection, the God of life and love…the God who dreamed and spoke all things into being…the God who said, “Let there be light”…utterly destroyed sin and death for all time and for all people…even you, even me. God shattered the very darkness that seeks to diminish our vision…keep us small…hold us back…keep us in the chains of our own and others’ making. God shattered the darkness of sin and death that seeks to squelch our imagination. For out of the empty tomb that we remember today, along with Jesus’ resurrected body, God’s own Spirit pours out…like an unstoppable flood…soaring in all directions…to dwell in all flesh…yours and mine…filling our imaginations with holy dreams and visions…not of what is…in this present darkness…but of what can be and of what, most assuredly, will be. For love’s triumph over sin and death…means, as Paul says, all things are possible with God…whatever our holy imaginations, inspired by God’s Spirit, alive and active in each of us, can possibly dream up…for good and for God.
So, what dream or vision is God’s Spirit, flowing endlessly from the empty tomb, inspiring in you? And, if none come immediately to mind, I invite you to pray…to intentionally and specifically pray that God’s Spirit will inspire your holy imagination…that God will give you the courage to envision, to dream of what can and will be for your life…and for the life of the world. Perhaps a life resurrected to find new love and purpose after profound loss and grief, remembering, as the empty tomb promises, that death is more gate than grave. A career resurrected that brings purpose and bears good fruit for your family and for the world around you…something that inspires joy in you as you wake up each morning. A body or mind resurrected after disease, addiction or injury that discovers new and creative ways to be productive, to serve and to connect meaningfully with those you love. A ruptured relationship resurrected through honest conversation, reset boundaries, the letting go of resentment, and the hard work of forgiveness. A deeply divided community resurrected by leaning on shared hopes and dreams and values and friendship building that transcends difference and disagreement. For, friends, I believe every conflict or crisis or uncertainty that any human or human community has overcome by creativity, collaboration, and genuine care, one for another, began through a God-given holy imagination…a God-given dream or vision that saw what is possible, beyond human sin and brokenness…beyond the certainty of physical death…all rooted in the power and promise of the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord.
When I was in seminary, I served a parish called Christ Church in Washington, DC. And, like in so many Episcopal Churches, including our own, on Palm Sunday, one week before Easter, Jesus’ Passion, the story of Jesus’s death, was read dramatically in parts. And, one year I was assigned the role of Jesus. I’ll allow you to come to your own conclusions about that casting decision. Now, there was a young girl, four or five years old, in the congregation named Julie who was enraptured by the story. In the holy imagination of this little girl, the story of Jesus’ suffering and death was, in fact, happening, playing out right before her eyes. Her mother later told me that the girl was hanging on every word. And, though I did not notice, when the passion narrative ended with Jesus’ death and burial, Julie began to cry. In fact, her mother told me that Julie continued to weep off and on long after she returned home. Being so young, we don’t know how much of the story Julie actually understood. But, one thing for sure, Julie knew Jesus’ death was deeply wrong and her heart was profoundly broken. Julie had heard from her parents and in church many, many times that Jesus loved her, and she believed it. And, seeing his death, through the imaginative eyes of her heart, was almost too much for her to take.
Now, there is a twist to this story. In her mind, as she entirely stepped into the story, something I actually hope we all do each Holy Week, Julie thought that I was actually Jesus. And that I, Miles, had really been crucified. Well, her parents did their best to assuage Julie’s suffering. They explained to Julie that, in fact, she had only seen a reenactment of an event that happened a long, long time ago. They assured her that I, Miles, was only reading from the bible and that I was very much alive. They also, wisely, jumped ahead and told her the Easter story…that though Jesus, not Miles, but Jesus had been wrongly killed, many, many years ago, that on the third day, God’s great love for his Son resurrected Jesus back to life. Her parent’s words seemed to assuage Julie’s grief to some degree; however, they were not convinced that she completely believed them.
Well, Easter arrived and the family was back in church. At this point, I had heard nothing of Julie’s experience. It was 9:00 AM, Easter morning, and the brass and organ fired up. The procession began, the whole congregation stood, and we began to joyfully sing out, “Jesus Christ is Risen Today, Alleluia. Our triumphant, holy day, Alleluia.” The acolytes led the way, followed by the choir…finally the clergy and I began down the center aisle of the church. And, just as I came into the congregation’s view, Julie saw me. Before her parents realized what was happening, she bolted out of her pew. She ran straight toward me, stopped me in my tracks, and she threw her arms around me. I returned her most wondrous and unexpected gift and wrapped my arms around her. Then she stepped back and said, “It’s true…you’re risen. God brought you back to us. You’re alive.” By then her father had caught up to her. He gently grabbed her hand and slowly led Julie back to their pew with a smile on her face…stretching from ear to ear. The miracle of Easter had come for Julie. Her small body and her holy imagination filled all the way up by the Spirit…endlessly flowing…through all time and space from the empty tomb, as Jesus himself, bodily emerges from the vanquished shadows of sin and death’s final and forever defeat.
And, friends, this is also exactly what I hope we all experience, you and me, personally and powerfully, as we enter once again into the timeless tale of love’s great triumph in the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord…a Spirit fueled holy imagination no longer diminished, controlled, or held back by the darkness of sin and death. For, as the great saint of the Church and Spirit inspired dreamer exclaimed…we are…free at last, free at last, great God Almighty, free at last…to dream God inspired dreams…for young and old to prophesy…to imagine together…and then, with the Spirit’s ever-present inspiration, bring into reality profound expressions of resurrection, of hope, of love…like, as I began, St. Julian’s…to bring to new life…what can and what, most assuredly, will be…for ourselves, for our communities, for our world…all made possible through the glorious resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.