Do This Remembering Me...
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
"Do this remembering me..." by C. David McKirachan
"Dirty feet" by C. David McKirachan
"Reflecting Martyrs" by Frank Ramirez
"A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way" by Bryan Meadows
What's Up This Week
Service and suffering go hand in hand as we approach the lynchpin event of the Christian faith. Maundy Thursday commemorates the last night Jesus was with his disciples. C. David McKirachan reflects on our act of service in remembering that Last Supper in "Do this remembering me..." Jesus, knowing what was to come, never lost his servant's heart toward his disciples, and he still serves all of us who are unworthy, as McKirachan reflects in "Dirty Feet."
Out of that service of Maundy Thursday came the suffering of Good Friday. Jesus' willingness to suffer for the sake of others and the gospel is still seen today, as shown in Frank Ramirez's "Reflecting Martyrs." Bryan Meadows also reflects on the nature of suffering in "A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way."
* * * * * * * * *
Do this remembering me...
By C. David McKirachan
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Sometimes I wonder how we've gotten to the stilted ceremonial enactment of the fellowship meal that was the beginning and the core of the Christian experience. We use starched linens and little shot glasses loaded into silver trays like bullets into a magazine. Then there's the cubed wonder bread. I worry sometimes that in our effort to be faithful to the Lord, we forget Him by making this gift of sharing He gave us into a dry ritual.
What are we supposed to remember? We're supposed to remember Him. We're supposed to remember His life -- His vibrant, real, messy life. We're supposed to remember His passion to share the glory of God's presence in every moment, in spite of the obtuseness of His friends and followers. We're supposed to remember His insistence on pushing His disciples closer to each other and closer to God, in spite of their desires to be individuals and run their own agendas and maintain control. We're supposed to remember His compassion and empathy that realized and understood all the hang-ups and fears and foibles of these people who sat around Him, and His forgiveness and deep, deep hope for their growth beyond all the idiocies. We're supposed to remember His joy at the smallest and most glorious bits and pieces of life. We're supposed to remember His sorrow and grief at the shadows that they preferred to the light of all that glory. And we're supposed to remember His love that infused each and every word He said and movement He made.
Does all of that come through our ritual? Does He stand in our midst?
No. And yes.
The mystery of our feast is not in our excellence but in His presence. We're no better than they were. We're obtuse and confused and hung up and angry and judgmental and controlling and afraid and self-centered and hard-hearted, just like they were -- and He still comes among us. Once in a while, as the bread is broken, His hand scarred by our sin, rests on our shoulder and calls us beloved.
And we remember Him.
Dirty Feet
By C. David McKirachan
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
I have a hard time with Holy Week. I used to think I was so grumpy on Palm Sunday because I was pooped from Lent. I used to think that Maundy Thursday was rough because I was so busy getting everything in order for all the services. I used to think... since I gave up thinking, everything's been much easier.
One year the calendar put communion on the day for having the kids do the parade into church with the palms. I got up to do communion and I started to cry. I realized I was so mad it hurt. Everybody was whoopee-dooing and He was crying. Where the hell do any of us get off being as obtuse as everybody was then? How can we be so self-centered? How can we ignore the Christ in His pain? Whew! It took me a minute to get that set of monsters back in their harness. People told me I ought to get some rest. I must be really tired from Lent. They were lucky I remembered my mother telling me it wasn't nice to knock people down and punch them in church. Yo! His heart is broken and you're discussing how to make little crosses with leaves?
Since then, I've approached this whole thing a lot differently. They have, too. Funny thing -- maybe we spiritual leaders need to spend more time with the Lord. Might do us all some good.
This washing the feet thing still gets me. Since I realized what was going on during this week, the relationships and all their give and takes are so poignant, so loaded, I don't know how He got through it. Here He was, knowing what was going on (I really don't think it required the Great Kreskin to figure out what was ahead), and they're having a party. That would leave me somewhere between walking out on the idiots and getting Gabriel to fry them. But He stuck in there, even without a pension to preserve. He moved inside all the self-centered idiocy and gave them a lesson they would never forget. He wounded them with the only weapon that would leave them with anything except embarrassment and self-defensive excuses. He washed their feet. Talk about counter-intuitive.
It left them abashed. It leaves me absolutely positive that I am not worth His concern. I am still so angry about His pain and their unwillingness to pay attention to it. I know I haven't learned what I need to.
That's the point, isn't it? We'll never learn. Even at our best, we're a lot less than good at this growing-up-into-our-potential-as-children-of-God business. Our own anger and pain and lack of vision and faith and generosity and compassion and courage and so on will always, sooner or later, put us in the shoes of the Pharisees or Judas or Peter or good old naked John. That's when we'll see Him kneeling in front of us, taking our feet in His hands as He tells us that He loves us.
I don't know about you, but this guy gets under my skin, dirty feet and all.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Reflecting Martyrs
By Frank Ramirez
Isaiah 52:13--53:12
Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed
-- Isaiah 53:4-5
In the eyes of some people, the Amish are the stuff of postcards, quaint men with long beards and women in black bonnets riding horse and buggy as a vague rejection of modernism. It is often forgotten by tourists that their lifestyle is based on their fierce commitment to live every aspect of their lives as disciples of Jesus. "What would Jesus do?" is not a slogan for a bracelet but a question that is not only asked but also answered and then lived.
If any were ignorant of this fact they were simply not paying attention after the killing of five Amish girls at the Nickel Mines schoolhouse on October 2, 2006, referred to by the Amish as their own 9/11.
One of the most striking aspects of the Nickel Mines murders was the way the families of the victims and the Amish at large immediately visited the family of the murderer and extended forgiveness and grace. They also shared a portion of the financial contributions that came streaming in from around the world with the killer's family.
Also memorable was the way one of the older girls in the one-room schoolhouse told the murderer to shoot her first. Her intent was to allow others to live by dying first.
To the Amish this self-sacrifice, this willingness to die for others, comes as naturally as the ability to forgive. For them this is what it means to take the Sermon on the Mount seriously. If scripture were not enough, Amish children grow up with stories from the immense volume known as The Martyr's Mirror, stories that make such actions automatic.
The Martyr's Mirror, published in 1660, tells the story of those Christians, including Mennonites and other Anabaptists, who died at the hands of other Christians because they chose to serve Jesus rather than acknowledge the lordship of Caesar. The book connects the suffering of faithful Christians who chose to be baptized as adults rather than be part of the state churches of Europe, with the faithfulness of martyrs in all ages. You will find a copy of this book in nearly all Amish homes.
One of the most famous stories, well known to Amish children and told as an example of the selfless love that all Christians should have, is that of Dirk Willems. In the year 1569 Dirk was arrested by the religious authorities in Asperen, Holland, for having held Bible studies in his home and for having been baptized as an adult. The account of his arrest follows:
Concerning his apprehension, it is stated by trustworthy persons, that when he fled he was hotly pursued by a thiefcatcher, and as there had been some frost, said Dirk Willems ran before over the ice, getting across with considerable peril. The thiefcatcher following him broke through, when Dirk Willems, perceiving that the former was in danger of his life, quickly returned and aided him in getting out, and thus saved his life. The thiefcatcher wanted to let him go, but the burgomaster, very sternly called to him to consider his oath, and thus he was again seized by the thiefcatcher, and, at said place, after severe imprisonment and great trials ... put to death at a lingering fire by these bloodthirsty, ravening wolves, enduring it with great steadfastness, and confirming the genuine faith of the truth with his death and blood, as an instructive example to all pious Christians of this time"
Having saved his rescuer, Dirk Willems endured a particularly gruesome death. The Martyr's Mirror notes:
In this connection, it is related as true from the trustworthy memoirs of those who were present at the death of this pious witness of Jesus Christ, that the place where this offering occurred was without Asperen, on the side of Leerdam, and that, a strong east wind blowing that day, the kindled fire was much driven away from the upper part of his body, as he stood at the stake; in consequence of which this good man suffered a lingering death, insomuch that in the town of Leerdam, towards which the wind was blowing, he was heard to exclaim over seventy times: "O my Lord; my God," etc., for which cause the judge or bailiff, who was present on horseback, filled with sorrow and regret at the man's sufferings, wheeled about his horse, turning his back toward the place of execution, and said to the executioner: "Dispatch the man with a quick death." But how or in what manner the executioner then dealt with this pious witness of Jesus, I have not been able to learn, except only, that his life was consumed by the fire, and that he passed through the conflict with great steadfastness, having commended his soul into the hands of God.
For Amish children, Dirk Willems and other men and women like him are as real as George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are to what they refer to as "the English," their term for non-Amish. The stories of The Martyr's Mirror bring to life those who have practiced nonresistance to evil and self-sacrifice even to the point of death for others. The example of Jesus is not just theoretical -- Amish children know that his example on Calvary's hill has been emulated by thousands and thousands.
As we begin to contemplate the sacrifice of Jesus let us also think about what stories in our lives, if any, ever really challenge us to truly follow in his footsteps.
Source: Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, and David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy (San Francisco: John Wiley & Sons, 2007)
You can download The Martyr's Mirror at www.martyrsmirror.com.
Frank Ramirez is a native of Southern California and has served as a pastor for nearly thirty years in Church of the Brethren congregations. Frank has served congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. He and his wife Jennie share three adult children, all married, and three grandchildren. He enjoys writing, reading, exercise, and theater.
A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way
By Bryan Meadows
John 18:1--19:42
If I may, allow me to share with you an interesting detail of my life. I'm what you call a product of the 1980s. I know, scary stuff. Perhaps you can remember the era. Big hair, really bright spandex clothes, a whole lot of the "me" attitude, and who could ever forget the heavy metal rock and roll music?
Try these names out for size: Twisted Sister, Quiet Riot, Ratt... okay, you get the picture by now. In any case, I sure enjoyed listening to the rock music of the 80s. I suppose that it was from that branch unto which I was cut in terms of my music preference.
Today, I still like rock music. Only now I get to listen to these incredible Christian bands as they hammer out some absolutely brilliant rock tunes that are all in an effort to glorify our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The message is relevant, and it is especially effective to a younger generation that is by and large being raised outside of the Christian church. My response: Keep up the good work. (Forgive me as I digressed just a bit.)
Back to my story of being a product of the 80s rock scene. Not long ago I needed to take my dog to the veterinarian's office for a typical check up. This was no ordinary veterinarian's office. It was a brand new, state-of-the-art animal hospital! Since it was my first time in since the new building was erected, I took the time to drink in all the newness.
The lobby area was spacious. The receptionists were very friendly. The entire area was clean. On the end tables sat a wide range of magazines to look at, which was hard to do when trying to keep my dog from visiting all the other animals in the waiting area. Nevertheless, it was the thought that counts.
Finally, they called for my dog and I to enter one of the side rooms. Upon entering this examination room, I realized the obvious: The vet's left nothing to chance. The room was immaculate! However, here's where things got interesting for me. Well, I don't know if I'd call it interesting.
After the nurse asked the customary questions, she reported that the doctor would be in soon to see my friendly four-legged companion. That's when the door shut and it was just me and the dog... and the music playing over their sound system. That music... it was, of all things... Soft rock! The Carpenters... Lionel Ritchie... Air Supply. One soft rock hit after another poured out of the speakers and it was almost like glass breaking in my head!
Moment of truth here. There should be a law against taking a former hard rocker and making them sit in the confines of a room with soft rock music. About the facility that was impeccable -- let's just say my attitude began to change.
I looked at my dog, who knew my pain but was unable to help. I thought about leaving, but looked at my dog and realized I just couldn't. What was I to do? The only thing a man in my position could do: Suffer; just suffer through the whole set of songs. Painful as it was, I bit my lip and endured.
You could have given me country music, smooth jazz, even classical. They're a completely separate genre. But soft rock! Come on!
I tell that story tongue-in-cheek. I make it out to be worse than what it really was. I do so to make a point, which is: At some points along the way in our life, we will all have to experience what it is to suffer.
This process begins at an early age. Ask my wife, who was responsible for changing diapers when our children were young. Ask my children when they want their way and all they received from us was a "NO." Pretty simple forms of suffering, aren't they?
You and I both know that suffering goes much deeper. It crosses all boundaries in this life. It breaks down the toughest of walls. It does not matter who you are, how much money you make, where you live, or what you do for a living.
Ask the spouse who doesn't want the divorce. Touch base with the teenager who's been abused. Ask the homeless person sleeping outside during the winter. Ask the girl or boy who gets made fun of at school every day. Ask the one who's fought the good fight through their chemotherapy and now are just days from drawing their last breath. Nobody likes the idea of suffering.
During this time of the Christian year, I have trouble moving beyond the issue of suffering. This is when we remember the "Passion of the Christ." Nice substitution for a name such as "suffering." We'll call it "passion." Call it what you will, but it's not pleasant.
Jesus' final days were like a clinic for understanding suffering. Starting in chapter 18 of John's gospel, it seems like a crazy carousel of human emotions and warring factions. Should they kill Jesus or let him go? If only Jesus would take a stand! If only he'd answer the questions. It was an absolute mess of soldiers, officials, over-zealous religious leaders and political figures who all wanted a piece of Jesus.
Truth is, Jesus could have by-passed the suffering with the wave of the hand. One word, and the history books could have been re-written. But it wasn't to be. At the time of the passion, no one really understood Jesus' mission. Maybe that's why it was so chaotic.
Looking back, even with the insight of thousands of years to understand why Jesus endured the suffering, it's still difficult. I for one think that's the way it should be. If your heart is filled with the love of God, and if you've accepted the forgiveness of your sins through faith in grace, then by all means these next few days of Holy Week should be difficult.
When we realize that Christ suffered for a broken world that includes you and me, this Holy Week should stop us in our tracks. It should make us sit back and take note of just how incredible and amazing this God is whom we serve.
Things can become heavy spiritually when we move into the passion of Christ during this week. As opposed to being too weighed down with the suffering of Christ, please be sure to take the time this week to realize that Jesus suffered the physical pain only for a time.
Three days after his death, he awoke to find himself completely restored. I think that's a good way to bring a wrap to these thoughts about Good Friday, for the same can happen to us if we accept the work of Jesus Christ and the cross. If we believe that his suffering was for us and a world that stands in dire need of a Savior, then one day we too will awake to another life, made completely whole. That place: Heaven. The prize: Forgiveness of sins. The payoff: An eternity at peace.
Friends, suffering is a real part of life. No one makes it out of this life without it. Knowing that doesn't necessarily make our times of suffering any easier, but it should remind us of this simple fact: Jesus suffered the ultimate price, and He did so on our behalf, so that when our own suffering is finished in this life, we, like Jesus and the thief on the cross beside Him, will one day receive the crown.
You can't buy this crown. You can't make this crown. You can't even forge this crown. It's already been made and paid for. Our role is to live out our life, endure the tough times, and keep fighting the good fight. It worked for Jesus, the apostle Paul, and countless others from the Good Book. It'll work for us as well. Here's to a Holy Week. Shalom.
Rev. Bryan Meadows has served as pastor of The Huntsville United Methodist Church since 1998, following his graduation from The Methodist Theological School. He and his wife, Alice, are the parents of three children: Caleb, Josie, and Hannah. Rev. Meadows enjoys photography, playing guitar, and bird hunting with his dogs.
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You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply email the story to us at storyshare@sermonsuite.com.
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StoryShare, March 20-21, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
"Do this remembering me..." by C. David McKirachan
"Dirty feet" by C. David McKirachan
"Reflecting Martyrs" by Frank Ramirez
"A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way" by Bryan Meadows
What's Up This Week
Service and suffering go hand in hand as we approach the lynchpin event of the Christian faith. Maundy Thursday commemorates the last night Jesus was with his disciples. C. David McKirachan reflects on our act of service in remembering that Last Supper in "Do this remembering me..." Jesus, knowing what was to come, never lost his servant's heart toward his disciples, and he still serves all of us who are unworthy, as McKirachan reflects in "Dirty Feet."
Out of that service of Maundy Thursday came the suffering of Good Friday. Jesus' willingness to suffer for the sake of others and the gospel is still seen today, as shown in Frank Ramirez's "Reflecting Martyrs." Bryan Meadows also reflects on the nature of suffering in "A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way."
* * * * * * * * *
Do this remembering me...
By C. David McKirachan
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Sometimes I wonder how we've gotten to the stilted ceremonial enactment of the fellowship meal that was the beginning and the core of the Christian experience. We use starched linens and little shot glasses loaded into silver trays like bullets into a magazine. Then there's the cubed wonder bread. I worry sometimes that in our effort to be faithful to the Lord, we forget Him by making this gift of sharing He gave us into a dry ritual.
What are we supposed to remember? We're supposed to remember Him. We're supposed to remember His life -- His vibrant, real, messy life. We're supposed to remember His passion to share the glory of God's presence in every moment, in spite of the obtuseness of His friends and followers. We're supposed to remember His insistence on pushing His disciples closer to each other and closer to God, in spite of their desires to be individuals and run their own agendas and maintain control. We're supposed to remember His compassion and empathy that realized and understood all the hang-ups and fears and foibles of these people who sat around Him, and His forgiveness and deep, deep hope for their growth beyond all the idiocies. We're supposed to remember His joy at the smallest and most glorious bits and pieces of life. We're supposed to remember His sorrow and grief at the shadows that they preferred to the light of all that glory. And we're supposed to remember His love that infused each and every word He said and movement He made.
Does all of that come through our ritual? Does He stand in our midst?
No. And yes.
The mystery of our feast is not in our excellence but in His presence. We're no better than they were. We're obtuse and confused and hung up and angry and judgmental and controlling and afraid and self-centered and hard-hearted, just like they were -- and He still comes among us. Once in a while, as the bread is broken, His hand scarred by our sin, rests on our shoulder and calls us beloved.
And we remember Him.
Dirty Feet
By C. David McKirachan
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
I have a hard time with Holy Week. I used to think I was so grumpy on Palm Sunday because I was pooped from Lent. I used to think that Maundy Thursday was rough because I was so busy getting everything in order for all the services. I used to think... since I gave up thinking, everything's been much easier.
One year the calendar put communion on the day for having the kids do the parade into church with the palms. I got up to do communion and I started to cry. I realized I was so mad it hurt. Everybody was whoopee-dooing and He was crying. Where the hell do any of us get off being as obtuse as everybody was then? How can we be so self-centered? How can we ignore the Christ in His pain? Whew! It took me a minute to get that set of monsters back in their harness. People told me I ought to get some rest. I must be really tired from Lent. They were lucky I remembered my mother telling me it wasn't nice to knock people down and punch them in church. Yo! His heart is broken and you're discussing how to make little crosses with leaves?
Since then, I've approached this whole thing a lot differently. They have, too. Funny thing -- maybe we spiritual leaders need to spend more time with the Lord. Might do us all some good.
This washing the feet thing still gets me. Since I realized what was going on during this week, the relationships and all their give and takes are so poignant, so loaded, I don't know how He got through it. Here He was, knowing what was going on (I really don't think it required the Great Kreskin to figure out what was ahead), and they're having a party. That would leave me somewhere between walking out on the idiots and getting Gabriel to fry them. But He stuck in there, even without a pension to preserve. He moved inside all the self-centered idiocy and gave them a lesson they would never forget. He wounded them with the only weapon that would leave them with anything except embarrassment and self-defensive excuses. He washed their feet. Talk about counter-intuitive.
It left them abashed. It leaves me absolutely positive that I am not worth His concern. I am still so angry about His pain and their unwillingness to pay attention to it. I know I haven't learned what I need to.
That's the point, isn't it? We'll never learn. Even at our best, we're a lot less than good at this growing-up-into-our-potential-as-children-of-God business. Our own anger and pain and lack of vision and faith and generosity and compassion and courage and so on will always, sooner or later, put us in the shoes of the Pharisees or Judas or Peter or good old naked John. That's when we'll see Him kneeling in front of us, taking our feet in His hands as He tells us that He loves us.
I don't know about you, but this guy gets under my skin, dirty feet and all.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. He is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Reflecting Martyrs
By Frank Ramirez
Isaiah 52:13--53:12
Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed
-- Isaiah 53:4-5
In the eyes of some people, the Amish are the stuff of postcards, quaint men with long beards and women in black bonnets riding horse and buggy as a vague rejection of modernism. It is often forgotten by tourists that their lifestyle is based on their fierce commitment to live every aspect of their lives as disciples of Jesus. "What would Jesus do?" is not a slogan for a bracelet but a question that is not only asked but also answered and then lived.
If any were ignorant of this fact they were simply not paying attention after the killing of five Amish girls at the Nickel Mines schoolhouse on October 2, 2006, referred to by the Amish as their own 9/11.
One of the most striking aspects of the Nickel Mines murders was the way the families of the victims and the Amish at large immediately visited the family of the murderer and extended forgiveness and grace. They also shared a portion of the financial contributions that came streaming in from around the world with the killer's family.
Also memorable was the way one of the older girls in the one-room schoolhouse told the murderer to shoot her first. Her intent was to allow others to live by dying first.
To the Amish this self-sacrifice, this willingness to die for others, comes as naturally as the ability to forgive. For them this is what it means to take the Sermon on the Mount seriously. If scripture were not enough, Amish children grow up with stories from the immense volume known as The Martyr's Mirror, stories that make such actions automatic.
The Martyr's Mirror, published in 1660, tells the story of those Christians, including Mennonites and other Anabaptists, who died at the hands of other Christians because they chose to serve Jesus rather than acknowledge the lordship of Caesar. The book connects the suffering of faithful Christians who chose to be baptized as adults rather than be part of the state churches of Europe, with the faithfulness of martyrs in all ages. You will find a copy of this book in nearly all Amish homes.
One of the most famous stories, well known to Amish children and told as an example of the selfless love that all Christians should have, is that of Dirk Willems. In the year 1569 Dirk was arrested by the religious authorities in Asperen, Holland, for having held Bible studies in his home and for having been baptized as an adult. The account of his arrest follows:
Concerning his apprehension, it is stated by trustworthy persons, that when he fled he was hotly pursued by a thiefcatcher, and as there had been some frost, said Dirk Willems ran before over the ice, getting across with considerable peril. The thiefcatcher following him broke through, when Dirk Willems, perceiving that the former was in danger of his life, quickly returned and aided him in getting out, and thus saved his life. The thiefcatcher wanted to let him go, but the burgomaster, very sternly called to him to consider his oath, and thus he was again seized by the thiefcatcher, and, at said place, after severe imprisonment and great trials ... put to death at a lingering fire by these bloodthirsty, ravening wolves, enduring it with great steadfastness, and confirming the genuine faith of the truth with his death and blood, as an instructive example to all pious Christians of this time"
Having saved his rescuer, Dirk Willems endured a particularly gruesome death. The Martyr's Mirror notes:
In this connection, it is related as true from the trustworthy memoirs of those who were present at the death of this pious witness of Jesus Christ, that the place where this offering occurred was without Asperen, on the side of Leerdam, and that, a strong east wind blowing that day, the kindled fire was much driven away from the upper part of his body, as he stood at the stake; in consequence of which this good man suffered a lingering death, insomuch that in the town of Leerdam, towards which the wind was blowing, he was heard to exclaim over seventy times: "O my Lord; my God," etc., for which cause the judge or bailiff, who was present on horseback, filled with sorrow and regret at the man's sufferings, wheeled about his horse, turning his back toward the place of execution, and said to the executioner: "Dispatch the man with a quick death." But how or in what manner the executioner then dealt with this pious witness of Jesus, I have not been able to learn, except only, that his life was consumed by the fire, and that he passed through the conflict with great steadfastness, having commended his soul into the hands of God.
For Amish children, Dirk Willems and other men and women like him are as real as George Washington and Abraham Lincoln are to what they refer to as "the English," their term for non-Amish. The stories of The Martyr's Mirror bring to life those who have practiced nonresistance to evil and self-sacrifice even to the point of death for others. The example of Jesus is not just theoretical -- Amish children know that his example on Calvary's hill has been emulated by thousands and thousands.
As we begin to contemplate the sacrifice of Jesus let us also think about what stories in our lives, if any, ever really challenge us to truly follow in his footsteps.
Source: Donald B. Kraybill, Steven M. Nolt, and David L. Weaver-Zercher, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy (San Francisco: John Wiley & Sons, 2007)
You can download The Martyr's Mirror at www.martyrsmirror.com.
Frank Ramirez is a native of Southern California and has served as a pastor for nearly thirty years in Church of the Brethren congregations. Frank has served congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. He and his wife Jennie share three adult children, all married, and three grandchildren. He enjoys writing, reading, exercise, and theater.
A Little Suffering Goes a Long Way
By Bryan Meadows
John 18:1--19:42
If I may, allow me to share with you an interesting detail of my life. I'm what you call a product of the 1980s. I know, scary stuff. Perhaps you can remember the era. Big hair, really bright spandex clothes, a whole lot of the "me" attitude, and who could ever forget the heavy metal rock and roll music?
Try these names out for size: Twisted Sister, Quiet Riot, Ratt... okay, you get the picture by now. In any case, I sure enjoyed listening to the rock music of the 80s. I suppose that it was from that branch unto which I was cut in terms of my music preference.
Today, I still like rock music. Only now I get to listen to these incredible Christian bands as they hammer out some absolutely brilliant rock tunes that are all in an effort to glorify our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The message is relevant, and it is especially effective to a younger generation that is by and large being raised outside of the Christian church. My response: Keep up the good work. (Forgive me as I digressed just a bit.)
Back to my story of being a product of the 80s rock scene. Not long ago I needed to take my dog to the veterinarian's office for a typical check up. This was no ordinary veterinarian's office. It was a brand new, state-of-the-art animal hospital! Since it was my first time in since the new building was erected, I took the time to drink in all the newness.
The lobby area was spacious. The receptionists were very friendly. The entire area was clean. On the end tables sat a wide range of magazines to look at, which was hard to do when trying to keep my dog from visiting all the other animals in the waiting area. Nevertheless, it was the thought that counts.
Finally, they called for my dog and I to enter one of the side rooms. Upon entering this examination room, I realized the obvious: The vet's left nothing to chance. The room was immaculate! However, here's where things got interesting for me. Well, I don't know if I'd call it interesting.
After the nurse asked the customary questions, she reported that the doctor would be in soon to see my friendly four-legged companion. That's when the door shut and it was just me and the dog... and the music playing over their sound system. That music... it was, of all things... Soft rock! The Carpenters... Lionel Ritchie... Air Supply. One soft rock hit after another poured out of the speakers and it was almost like glass breaking in my head!
Moment of truth here. There should be a law against taking a former hard rocker and making them sit in the confines of a room with soft rock music. About the facility that was impeccable -- let's just say my attitude began to change.
I looked at my dog, who knew my pain but was unable to help. I thought about leaving, but looked at my dog and realized I just couldn't. What was I to do? The only thing a man in my position could do: Suffer; just suffer through the whole set of songs. Painful as it was, I bit my lip and endured.
You could have given me country music, smooth jazz, even classical. They're a completely separate genre. But soft rock! Come on!
I tell that story tongue-in-cheek. I make it out to be worse than what it really was. I do so to make a point, which is: At some points along the way in our life, we will all have to experience what it is to suffer.
This process begins at an early age. Ask my wife, who was responsible for changing diapers when our children were young. Ask my children when they want their way and all they received from us was a "NO." Pretty simple forms of suffering, aren't they?
You and I both know that suffering goes much deeper. It crosses all boundaries in this life. It breaks down the toughest of walls. It does not matter who you are, how much money you make, where you live, or what you do for a living.
Ask the spouse who doesn't want the divorce. Touch base with the teenager who's been abused. Ask the homeless person sleeping outside during the winter. Ask the girl or boy who gets made fun of at school every day. Ask the one who's fought the good fight through their chemotherapy and now are just days from drawing their last breath. Nobody likes the idea of suffering.
During this time of the Christian year, I have trouble moving beyond the issue of suffering. This is when we remember the "Passion of the Christ." Nice substitution for a name such as "suffering." We'll call it "passion." Call it what you will, but it's not pleasant.
Jesus' final days were like a clinic for understanding suffering. Starting in chapter 18 of John's gospel, it seems like a crazy carousel of human emotions and warring factions. Should they kill Jesus or let him go? If only Jesus would take a stand! If only he'd answer the questions. It was an absolute mess of soldiers, officials, over-zealous religious leaders and political figures who all wanted a piece of Jesus.
Truth is, Jesus could have by-passed the suffering with the wave of the hand. One word, and the history books could have been re-written. But it wasn't to be. At the time of the passion, no one really understood Jesus' mission. Maybe that's why it was so chaotic.
Looking back, even with the insight of thousands of years to understand why Jesus endured the suffering, it's still difficult. I for one think that's the way it should be. If your heart is filled with the love of God, and if you've accepted the forgiveness of your sins through faith in grace, then by all means these next few days of Holy Week should be difficult.
When we realize that Christ suffered for a broken world that includes you and me, this Holy Week should stop us in our tracks. It should make us sit back and take note of just how incredible and amazing this God is whom we serve.
Things can become heavy spiritually when we move into the passion of Christ during this week. As opposed to being too weighed down with the suffering of Christ, please be sure to take the time this week to realize that Jesus suffered the physical pain only for a time.
Three days after his death, he awoke to find himself completely restored. I think that's a good way to bring a wrap to these thoughts about Good Friday, for the same can happen to us if we accept the work of Jesus Christ and the cross. If we believe that his suffering was for us and a world that stands in dire need of a Savior, then one day we too will awake to another life, made completely whole. That place: Heaven. The prize: Forgiveness of sins. The payoff: An eternity at peace.
Friends, suffering is a real part of life. No one makes it out of this life without it. Knowing that doesn't necessarily make our times of suffering any easier, but it should remind us of this simple fact: Jesus suffered the ultimate price, and He did so on our behalf, so that when our own suffering is finished in this life, we, like Jesus and the thief on the cross beside Him, will one day receive the crown.
You can't buy this crown. You can't make this crown. You can't even forge this crown. It's already been made and paid for. Our role is to live out our life, endure the tough times, and keep fighting the good fight. It worked for Jesus, the apostle Paul, and countless others from the Good Book. It'll work for us as well. Here's to a Holy Week. Shalom.
Rev. Bryan Meadows has served as pastor of The Huntsville United Methodist Church since 1998, following his graduation from The Methodist Theological School. He and his wife, Alice, are the parents of three children: Caleb, Josie, and Hannah. Rev. Meadows enjoys photography, playing guitar, and bird hunting with his dogs.
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StoryShare, March 20-21, 2008, issue.
Copyright 2008 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
