"Turn and Live" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

Turn and Live
Easter 4 – Narrative Lectionary 1
Grace, Mankato, MN
April 26, 2015
Acts 13.1-3; 14.8-18

A number of years ago, we took a trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota to see the usual sights. On the way, we decided to stop off in De Smet, one of the homes of Laura Ingalls Wilder of “Little House” fame. We then made our way down to I-90 (bypassing the Corn Palace in Mitchell). We then crossed South Dakota on one of the dreariest drives I’ve ever had – there was no place to make a quick stop for 200 miles. We finally got some sandwiches at a gas station convenience mart. So, I was anxious to hit the infamous Wall Drug, if nothing else than to see something interesting. However, before we got to Wall, I was astounded to see a sight I never expected and it took my breath away. Though I normally like to push on to my destination, we all knew we needed stop and take it in.

I would learn later that the combination of buttes, canyons, pinnacles and spires, painted in a variety of striking colors, was the Badlands. My guess is that this beautiful are was probably unfortunately named because of the travel difficulty it caused earlier travelers. Yet, as we wandered the area, I had this overwhelming thought: “God made this for me.” I remembered something my internship supervisor, Pr. E. Gordon Ross, had said years earlier about why he traveled so much: “God made this creation for me to enjoy and I want to see as much of it as I possibly can before I die.”

In a bit different context, the Apostle Paul echoes a similar sentiment: God “has not left himself without a witness in doing good—giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy.” This declaration is in response to an unexpected reaction to the healing of a man crippled from birth. Paul and Barnabas have been commissioned by the church at Antioch to spread the good news to the Gentiles. It is the first time in Acts that a community of faith sets apart and sends out missionaries. While at Lystra (in modern day Turkey), Paul notices that one of the pagan worshippers is really into him. We don’t know why, but Paul (through the Holy Spirit?) sees something in him and heals the man. If nothing else, the healing confirms that the mission to the Gentiles is legitimate and of God’s purpose.

However, the reaction of the Lystrans catches Paul and Barnabas off-guard and they have to back up quickly. Paul realizes that the move from worshipping Roman gods to the crucified and risen Christ is huge, too huge for them to make in one leap. (Here’s an important principle of evangelism: people can only move so far at one time.) So Paul challenges them to look away from the things that don’t give life to the creator of what does. He says, “Can’t you see it? Look all around you! The Living God made all of this for you.” But Paul knows his stuff about the religions of the day and makes sure that they don’t confuse creation with creator. The true God is not to be found in things; if anything, things should and do point toward the true God.

About a week and a half ago John and I took our middle school and high school youth to the annual youth event at Crossroads Lutheran Campus Ministry at MSU. During small group time, we were invited to write down how we spend each 24 hour day. The exercise was designed to show how crazy our lives can become and how easily God can get crowded out. Now, I’ve seen this exercise used to guilt people over how little God shows up in our day, but thankfully the college youth at Crossroads showed our youth something else. They invite them to ask, “Where do you see God in, with and through your day?” It’s like looking at your checkbook (or credit card statement) to see what your priorities are for spending your money. It’s not about giving more to God and the church (though there is always more ministry that can be done). The question is, “How I am honoring God and furthering God’s work through my use of resources?”

Someone said that our greatest obstacle to experiencing God—and by extension, the new life God has for us—is our previous experience of God. In other words, we can’t imagine God coming other ways because we are so fixated on how we last experienced God. As I think about my experience in the Badlands, I think there is truth in that statement. So one the one hand, I am more aware of the presence of God in creation because of the experience. But on the other hand, I am reminded to be open to seeing God in other ways, too. Who would have thought that God was already working in a crippled pagan? It’s probably the same one who thought to be present in a little bit of bread and a little sip of wine. The same one who tells us he is present in the flowing fountains of water washing over us. It’s probably the same one who thought that dying on a cross would bring new life to a broken creation. For the crucified Christ has been raised and invites us to turn now and live. Alleluia, amen.