Maundy Thursday Monologues - Simon the Zealot

Holy Thursday Monologue – Simon the Zealot

If you read your Bible in the Gospel of Matthew chapter 10, or Mark chapter 3, you will find there a list of the disciples who followed Jesus.  In that list, you find the name Simon the Cananean.   That’s me.  Luke lists me differently.  He calls me, Simon the Zealot. 

You think you know all the disciples.  James and John were fishing brothers.  So were Peter and Andrew.  Nathaniel, he was the straight shooter.  Whatever was on his mind, he said.  Philip, well, he was a kid.  He and John and Andrew, they were pretty wet behind the ears. I am not much older them, but I had seen things they had not. 

Thomas what a brain on that guy.  He was always thinking, always questioning.  I know he came to be called a “doubter.”  He was much more than that.  He was a thinker.

I think Matthew had the most fun of all the disciples.  That guy could party, almost as much Jesus. 

Of course history shows that Judas Iscariot was a schemer.  We didn’t know it at the time.  We thought he was a brilliant in practical thinking as Thomas was in theoretical thinking.  We deferred to Judas because he was so confidant. 

In some ways he and I were kindred spirits.  Both Judas Iscariot and I were committed to the overthrow of the Romans and the overthrow the corrupt leadership in the temple.  He talked and made strategies and argued with Jesus.  He always thought he knew better than Jesus what we ought to do.  And then Jesus would work a miracle and Judas would shut up and fall in line.

For my part, I was not interested in Peter’s outbursts or Judas’ scheming or Thomas’ philosophy or Nathaniel’s mouth.  I like Matthew’s parties, but even that, I thought, was the wrong priority.  Before I followed Jesus, I was party of a group of revolutionaries.  We weren’t Sicarii.  We did not commit assassinations.  But, we watched closely because we thought the Messiah was coming to call us to arms.  We were ready.

I was at the wedding in Cana when Jesus turned water into wine.  I knew what happened.  So, I left some of my Zealot pals behind and started following Jesus.  I didn’t even realize he noticed me, and then he asked me to be one of his 12 disciples – like the 12 tribes.  Yes, I was sure, he was going to restore Israel to the people of God.

But boy did I have trouble with some of his teaching.  Turn the other cheek?  Love your enemy?  I didn’t understand and he could see that.  He knew how frustrated I was.  He didn’t kick me out.  Neither did he make it any easier on me.  I did not confront him like Peter.  I did not question like Thomas.  I didn’t argue with him the way Judas did.  But sometimes I wanted to.

Things were really heating up when we came to Jerusalem for the Passover.  His confrontations with legalists and priests were edgier.  We were all tense.  Then, when we gathered for the meal in that upper room, well, I can’t describe it.  When he took the wine and said, “This is the new covenant that is my blood,” everything changed.  That night, I could not have told you how, but something happened when he said that and we were never the same.

Later on, when the soldiers came to arrest him in the garden, I just ran.  I don’t even know why.  I, who had been so eager to fight the Roman and fight injustice; when the fight came I ran.  Thinking back now to the wine, the new covenant, it is like I was empty and full all at the same time. 

I haven’t picked up a sword since.  Oh, I’ve used knives and axes, as tools.  But since I followed Jesus, I who had built my life on being a revolutionary, never again thought about fighting or killing anyone.  You follow him, it will change you.  It did me.

I think it about it every time I drink that wine.

Maundy Thursday Monologues - Simon Peter

http://captainsacrament.blogspot.com/2004/04/maundy-thursday-2004.html

My name is Simon Peter.

You know me from the stories about me in the Bible.  You know I was the one to walk on water to Jesus.  Well, I walked until I sank and Jesus pulled me out.

I’m the one Jesus trusted with the keys to the Kingdom.  It was also to me that Jesus said, “Get behind, Satan.”  He said that when I tried to talk him out of going to the cross.

When they came arrest him, I whipped out a sword and start swinging.  I was there, when Jesus said ‘turn the other cheek.’  But in that moment in the garden, I just forgot.  I started swinging the sword and Jesus healed the man I hit.  Then he was arrested and I ran.  To my shame, I denied knowing him just as he predicted I would.

After he rose, he forgave me.  He restored me as one of his followers.

Now, it’s been many years.  I don’t how I’ve survived this long.  James was beheaded by Herod.  John was exiled to Patmos.  Stephen was stoned to death.  I carry on.  Now, I lead the church at Rome. 

We tell a lot of stories this time of year.  We tell these stories to remember the death and new life of our King and to remember who we are. 

This night is Passover.  When we celebrate, we remember that we were created by God’s saving act. Our Master Jesus became the Passover lamb, sacrificed for us, and by his resurrection saved us from the darkness of sin. Many of you who were not of Israel became his because of this. We have been created by his saving act.

Tonight, I remember clearly that Passover before everything happened.  It was the night he was betrayed – by all of us. We gathered in an upper room to share the meal. Our feet had gotten dusty, and needed to be washed before we gathered at table. We were talking, cutting up and just enjoying being together. It had been a dark week, and we needed to celebrate.

But then we suddenly quieted; we could have heard a feather hit the ground. Not many things can silence a room of rambunctious fishermen. I looked about to see what had happened. Jesus had taken off his robe and put on a towel. He filled a basin and began to wash our feet. We were completely speechless, and I was incensed. We had gathered to celebrate our identity as the free people of God, and he was doing what would have been disgraceful even for a slave!

I asked him just what he thought he was doing. “You don’t understand now,” he said, “but later, you will.” I refused him: “You’re never going to wash my feet!” He was patient and adamant as always. “If I don’t do this, you can’t be my disciple.”

I was shattered. I had spent three years of my life with this man, given up everything to follow him. But... if refusing this meant refusing him, I had missed something. I loved him, so I obeyed, even though I didn’t understand.

As the rough hands of the carpenter cradled the rougher feet of this fisherman, I was struck by the tenderness of the act. Feet are very basic things, right? They’re just there. But as his fingers moved between my toes to wash, I was devastated by the intimacy. I began to understand. On that night in a little room in Jerusalem, just before all hell would break loose, this is what it meant to love us to the end. He was dedicated to me and to each of us. There were no lengths to which he would not go to love us, heal us, and set us free. This lowly service showed me the very heart of God.

He told us that this would be the pattern for our lives. This is a symbol of how he bears us up in all of our sins, failings and idiosyncrasies.

We remember this tonight. We confess our needs and submit to his washing—submit to his tenderness. We will leave and remember that our brothers and sisters have dusty feet also. We will wash them.

So in this story, learn who you are.  Let the Lord be with you in the weak places, in the dirt. Then go, take up your basin and towel, and be who you are.

In the name of Christ. Amen.

Maundy Thursday Monologues - Thomas

Doubting Thomas: Monologue

‘Doubting Thomas’? Yes, that’s me! Do I mind being called that? I suppose it could be galling to have gone down in history as a doubter, but in a way I’m glad, you know. How can I explain?

You see, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doubts. Oh, I’m not talking here about the excuses we palm off as doubts: it’s not the same as uninformed prejudice, a sense of guilt or the fear of change. No, I’m thinking about good, honest questions. There’s a lot to be said for them, in my opinion.

Some of the other disciples never really understood that. Maybe they were just upset with me for not believing them - but then they’d already seen Jesus alive, you see. I hadn’t.

Anyway, as I told them at the time, all this stuff about Jesus rising from the dead was just too important to accept uncritically.  What if it was all just a cruel joke, or they’d imagined it all, had group delusions or whatever you call it? We loved him so much, you see…We’d followed him; listened to him; eaten with him; shared our lives. Seeing him die was worse than anything I’d ever experienced – worse than anything I WILL ever go through, I dare say. And we were desperate: grief-stricken; lonely; terrified. Of course I WANTED it to be true! But how could I be certain without seeing him for myself?

Being a Christian is no bed of roses, I can tell you, and I could never have coped with the past few years if all I had to go on was a faded dream or a vague hope. But Jesus, he put up with me and my doubts.  He gave what I needed and took me beyond what I thought I could become.  I ended traveling all the way to the nation you know as India and establishing the Christian faith there.

That all came after the resurrection.  On the night of the Passover meal, before Jesus was arrested, none of knew what was coming.  He held the bread of Passover up before us and said, “This is my body, broken for you.”  What did that mean?  We didn’t know. 

He got on his knees to wash our feet. What was he doing?  Peter, as always, speaking without thinking, argued with Jesus and then did what he said.  Judas, slipped out after the foot washing.  I was never sure about what he was up to.  He always seemed to his own agenda on the side.  I had no idea he was set to betray Jesus that night.  No idea at all.

I didn’t have any side agenda.  I had side conversation.  That night Matthew had the misfortune of sitting beside me.

“What’s he doing?”  I asked Matthew.  He told me to ‘let it go.’ 

“What’s he talking about?” I asked when Jesus said the bit about not drinking the fruit of the vine again until he drank it in the Kingdom.  I was pestering Matthew with questions.   

That Matthew!  So good with numbers and money, but he never questioned anything.  If Jesus said he was the bread of life, Matthew just accepted it. I knew he didn’t understand it.  None of us did.  But not understanding didn’t bother Matthew. 

If I understood, I would go to the ends of the earth for Jesus.  And in the end I did.  At least India seems likes the opposite end of the earth from Jerusalem.  But that night, the night of the Passover, I lost all my boldness. 

We all acted so tough.  “No, no Jesus, we won’t betray you.  We’re with you to the end.”  We all said that.  James the rugged fisherman; Simon, the wanna-be rebel; the all-too-honest Nathaniel.  We were all so courageous in our own minds.  At least Peter picked up a sword before he fled into the night. But in the end, that’s what we all did.  We ran just like Jesus knew we would. 

But, after it was all over, he welcomed us back.  That’s what Jesus does.  He takes you at your worst and helps you become your best.  Now, whenever I lead a church in worship and I break the bread before the congregation and together, we drink the wine, I remember that night.  I also remember seeing Jesus a few days later.  And I remember him loving me in my doubts.  And I remember him changing the direction of my life. 

That’s Jesus.  He turns us around.  

Maundy Thursday Monologues: Martha

Monologue for Maundy Thursday

HillSong Church, 4-13-17

My name is Martha.

You may have heard of me.  But you probably haven’t heard from me.  When the Master, that is, Jesus, came to Jerusalem, he often stayed with our family.  That’s my sister Mary, my brother Lazarus, and me.  When he came, crowds came with him.  We were happy to be hosts, but it was a lot of work.  I felt like I was constantly cooking and then cleaning and then doing the wash, and then cooking again. 

Often, I felt like it was just me.  Lazarus of course reclined with the men to hear Jesus teach.  And so did Mary!  A woman is to manage the home and make sure everyone is cared for.  What did Mary do?  She sat with the men, taking in the Master’s teaching.

I complained to Jesus about – once.  He said Mary chose the better part, leaving me all the work.  She often has that faraway look in her eyes, like she knows something the rest of us don’t know.  It’s like there’s music playing only Mary can hear.  It might be true, but that doesn’t get the dishes washed or the meal cooked.  Jesus said Mary made the right choice.

See if I speak up again!  Actually, Jesus has always encouraged me to speak.  He treats us with a respect no other man have ever given woman.  I do love him deeply.  And like everyone else, I am amazed by him.  I was there when he brought my brother Lazarus back to life.  We all believed the resurrection would come for everyone on the last day.  He raised Lazarus and after he did that, I wasn’t sure what to think.

I know Jesus has tremendous power and I know he is very close to God.  But he says things I don’t understand.  He said to me “I am the Resurrection and the Life and who believes in me will never die.”  What does that even mean? 

Tonight, I am especially worried.  There’s something in the air.  Normally, this is the kind of thing Mary would fret about.  In fact she has been, not exactly fretting, but … She’s been staring into the distance, toward Jerusalem.  Her gaze pierces the wind as she goes away in her head.  Normally, I would say that’s just Mary being Mary, but here’s the thing.  I feel it too.

Tonight is the Passover meal.  We were going to have Jesus and disciple to our house, but he’s meeting somewhere else, in the home of a disciple I don’t know.  I thought I knew all who followed the Master. 

The disciples have been acting funny.  Yesterday, I asked Nathanial about it, but he just joked and complimented me on my soup.  This morning, I said something to John.  He admitted something is up, but he said he didn’t know what.

The Romans have increased their guard in the city.  And the high priest in temple is on edge.  Everyone can feel it.  Something is going to happen, tonight, and I know it has something to do with Jesus.  I just don’t know what.  I do wish he were having the Passover here.

I have to make bread and get the wine ready.  Our old uncle and some cousins are coming.  We have to get ready.

(Exits stage with a look of worry)

Eternal Salvation, Hebrews 4:14-15; 5:7-10

“Let us hold fast to our confession”(4:14b). There seems to be urgency in the words of the writer of Hebrews. What was the confession? The writer says it – “[Jesus was] the source of eternal salvation” (5:9). Why do we need to be saved? He states that frankly as well. Sin is ignorant. Sin is weakness. The author assumes all of us humans sin, and it is implied, and states directly elsewhere, that sin cuts us off from God. Life without God is the same as death. We need God, but sin cuts us off, and we all sin. That is not good, but Jesus came for us and has been found worth and is thus the source of eternal salvation for everyone who believes in him. That’s our confession.

“Let us hold fast to our confession.” Grip it tightly and no matter what, don’t let go. That confession is a statement of truth that is the difference between eternal life and being cut off from God. We don’t want to see this wrongly. This is not a choice of Heaven or Hell. People say Heaven or Hell, but the actual Biblical presentation is eternal life or being cut off from God. We want eternal life. Let us hold fast to our confession.

There must have been a worry that people in the church weren’t doing that. People in the first century let go of their heart confession of Jesus for many reasons, but possibly the main problem Hebrews was dealing with, is fear. People renounced or minimized Jesus because they were afraid to do otherwise. The Romans were the ones in power, and they did not care how many gods one worshipped. But they demanded that all under the power of Rome acknowledge that the Roman Emperor was a son of God and was the supreme ruler.

Christians did not do that. They did not say the emperor was Lord. Not only did they refuse to confess the emperor, they also said someone else was Lord –Jesus. Rome responded by putting sending Christians into exile. Rome made it hard for believers to get jobs. On at least one occasion, all the disciples of Jesus Christ were kicked out of Rome – expelled and forced to become refugees. Rome put Jesus’ followers in arenas to be torn apart by lions. Rome nailed Christians to crosses. The book of Hebrews is reacting to the fear that led Christians to think it might be a good idea to be secret Christians. They would believe in Jesus. They just wouldn’t say anything about it out loud, and for show, they might give a nod to the emperor.

Let us hold fast to our confession. It’s only a confession when it is spoken and maintained, even in the face of persecution. This mattered tremendously. Is it such a big deal for us? I don’t know anyone who because of their belief in Jesus has been put into a stadium to be eaten by wild beasts as a crowd of thousands watches. I don’t know of any crucifixions in American history. In this century, I don’t know of any crucifixions anywhere. For us, in the world in which we live, do we need to read Hebrews with the same urgency the first readers had when they read it?

We must maintain all we believe – public declaration of faith in Jesus Christ, Son of God, savior of the world. Let us hold fast to our confession. Is there any danger we won’t do that?

Imagine someone you know finds out that you attend church and that you are a Christian. Imagine that someone says, “Religion is really quite silly. In light of all that has been discovered through scientific research and all that is known and has been developed, it’s just a joke that anyone with education would suppose there is God. How goofy is that? This is the age of technology. Belief in God is the same as belief in goblins and ghosts and fairies and witches.” No, this person you know doesn’t say this directly to you. He says in a group of people – your peers. He says it with you present. Everyone knows you are the churchgoer in the crowd. He says it to challenge you and all eyes in the group seem to turn your way.

Do you hold fast to your confession that Jesus is Lord, that you are a sinner, that you know you need God, that the only way to God and to eternal salvation and life everlasting is through Jesus? Or do you desperately try to find a way out of the room, hopefully unnoticed?

Our ancestors in Christianity, the original readers of Hebrews, were threatened, and they let go of their confession when their lives were in danger. We let go of our confession of faith in Jesus when our lifestyles and our reputations are in danger. This is not a comparison of who was more faithful, first century believers who received the first copy of this letter or 21st century believers who can go on the internet and read this letter in 50 different languages. I am not flogging us saying “see how much more faithful they were?” The word of God given to them was hold on, keep the faith, keep speaking the faith. That is the same word to us. Our situation is different, but just as urgent.

The tendency in our culture and our time is to let our faith become diluted. In attempts to market Christianity in a market-driven society, we see Christian versions of the most popular magazines, music, and movies. We see large Christian churches open food courts within their buildings. We see Christian movements that resemble self-help and self-improvement programs more than they look like the gospel the apostles preached. There is nothing wrong with Christians movies or churches having food courts or churches offering yoga classes and reading scripture in the place of sun salutations. That’s all OK. But it all comes together to reveal a 21stcentury faith that is trying to fit in in the world. We’re tailoring our Christianity according to the standards of our culture instead of determining our participation in that culture by the standards of Jesus. We let the world define our belief instead of our belief determining how we interact with the world. And thus, we let go of our confession.

Diluted faith makes the message of Hebrews essential. Is your faith diluted? Is mine?

Another threat that raises the urgency of the call in Hebrews is fragmentation. We live compartmentalized lives. At church, I am a Christian. At work, I am a professional. At the store, I am a shopper. None of those areas interferes with the other. The decisions I make with my money do not affect my job performance; my choices at work, including the tough ethical decisions I face stay at work and do not come with me on Sunday morning. And, God has no voice when I am on the clock Monday through Friday or when I am out on the town on the weekend with friends. I am describing a compartmentalized life. We become fragmented and we leave parts of ourselves all over. The only choice, when we decide to live this way, is to let go of our confession. We do not hold it. We do not make that confession and say in our life and our actions and our words and our relationships that Jesus is Lord. On the topic of Jesus, we are silent, except at church.

Let us hold fast ... but we don’t. We are silent and so, our own faith is weakened and maybe in jeopardy. Others, who are not in the church, don’t hear. They don’t see someone standing up and declaring the truth about Jesus. They who are outside the church, whether they were never in in the first place or they left, don’t see someone passionately making the statement about God’s love and people’s need for God.

We see the issue, but what then do we do? How can we hold fast? We know we need to but can we? On what authority?

We have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, says Hebrews (4:14a). He can sympathize with us in our weakness because he is a human as we are. He knows what is like to go through what we go through. I think when it says he“passed through the heavens,” that is an allusion to something written about at the conclusion of the Gospel Luke and the beginning of Acts. The disciples are gathered and he tells them to take the message of his salvation to the surrounding regions and then to all people on earth, and then he is taken, rising, ascending. This is called the ascension and the image that comes to mind is of Jesus rising into the sky.

But, I don’t think anyone thinks Jesus is somewhere way out in space. So ascension might be a misnomer. He is with God and with God in bodily form. The risen Jesus invited Thomas to touch him. Mary Magdalene grabbed at his feet. He ate fish with the disciples. He did not leave his physical body behind, but it rose – he rose, changed. Resurrected. He is the one who goes before God on our behalf.

Hebrews says Jesus “offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears,”to God (5:7). Where the comment about the heavens, I believe, alludes to his ascension, this comment about Jesus’offering prayers with loud cries and tears alludes to the time he spent in the Garden of Gethsemane before he was arrested, tried, and crucified. Luke writes that when Jesus prayed in the garden, he asked God to remove the cup of suffering, and he prayed with such anguish that he sweat drops of blood and angels came to help him. He asked that the cup be removed, but for our sake it was not. Jesus obediently went to death for the sins of the world.

The ascended Jesus who goes before God and intercedes on our behalf and the agonized Jesus who obeyed God even though doing so was painful, this is the Jesus who makes is possible for us to hold fast to our confession.

Because he is for us, because we are born again in Him, we can hold our faith and name it no matter what. Whether we are killed or embarrassed for doing so, we hold our belief and we let everyone around us know that we belong to Jesus and our lives and our choices are determined by him. Because of Him, we are destined for resurrection. This world is going to be renewed– made new. Paul anticipates this in Romans. Revelation 21-22 talks about the earth and heaven being made new. Just as you and I in our sinful selves died in sin and were made new creations in Christ, the earth will be made new and all who are born again, who obey God as it says in Hebrews 5 (v.10) will have eternal life with Him.

We hold fast with our confession, we tell the truth about Jesus because he gives eternal salvation. In our daily life choices involving money, decisions about where and how to live, in our work and relationships, in our times of play, and in our homes, we hold fast to our confession of faith in Jesus Christ.

Imagine someone you know finds out that you attend church and that you are a Christian, a true Christ follower. Imagine that someone says, “Religion is for the weak-minded. It’s out of date and doesn’t work and isn’t true. Jesus was a good man, but nothing more.” He says it knowing you can hear him. He knows you are a believer and he knows everyone in your circle is waiting to see how you, the one who follows and worships Jesus, will react. Everyone is watching.

Hebrews says, Let us hold fast to our confession. And there is this. Jesus is the one who saves. You know that. But this guy coming after you doesn’t. Someone in the surrounding group doesn’t know it either. Whatever you do in that moment probably won’t immediately lead someone, your verbal attacker or one of the watchers, to faith. If you back down and let go of your confession, it definitely won’t claim any ground for Jesus. But, relying on the strength he gives, if you lovingly, gently, stand your ground and declare your belief in Jesus and your belief that everyone including the guy challenging you needs Jesus, it just be the point where someone’s destiny turns. They see the fiery passion of faith in your eyes, and they, just a little bit start to consider whether the gospel might be true and Jesus might be the one. That moment, they start down the path to faith, because you told the truth in love.

Let us hold firm to our confession that Jesus Christ is Lord. He is the giver of eternal salvation.

AMEN

As we respond in prayer and with singing, take this time to think of a situation in your life in which it is hard for you to stand fast and hold strong to your confession of Jesus. Pray for these next few minutes that God will empower you this week to hold fast to your faith and to tell that Jesus is Lord and gives eternal salvation.

From the Upper Room to Gethsemane

“I will Go Ahead of You” (Matthew 26:30-36)

Rob Tennant, HillSong Church, Chapel Hill, NC

Thursday, April 21, 2011 – Maundy Thursday Worship

We have together taken the bread – the broken body of Christ, and cup – the shed blood of our Lord. This year on Maundy Thursday, I am profoundly conscious of how important this is for me. My sins are on my mind; not so much specifics sins as my failure to improve. I still commit sins I committed years ago. Too often, it feels like I am not getting better.

If you asked me, “Rob, are you a failure?” I would say, “No.” I don’t feel like a failure in general. But, thinking about the Lord’s Supper and the Lord’s passion, his suffering and death, I am beset with how much I fall short of God’s glory. Toward my wife and my children, I feel a failure and that means I am a failure before God because God has entrusted their care to me. I do many good things in my roles as husband and father. I am not blind to the areas where I do well. But, I know I come down hard. I fail to show mercy. I fail to show patience. And I can be manipulative. As I think of the bread and cup, all this comes to mind.

I am not a perfect pastor, not by any means. And I am not referring to things I just don’t do well. I have weaknesses – everyone does. I don’t beat myself up over my weaknesses. But what I am thinking of here is the areas where I have some ability. I come up short there because I don’t work hard enough all the time. Sometimes I do. But sometimes, my effort is not what it could be. God has entrusted the leadership of this church to me. Does that mean there’s a ceiling on how great this church can be? In my moments of laziness, do I lower that ceiling, lessen what we can accomplish in our worship of God and our service and love of one another?

I think of the bread and the cup, the body and blood. Jesus died for the sins of the world. Jesus died for the sins of Rob. I don’t feel myself crushed every time we take communion as I have described tonight. I don’t always crumble under the burden of my own insufficiency. But this year, as we worship on Maundy Thursday, I think of Jesus’ suffering, I think of my mistakes, the thoughts coalesce and here I am: a failure, dining at the table of Jesus. I am here by his invitation, and oh what a price he has paid because of what I have done.

To come to the table in the mindset I have had and have just described is to miss the heart of Jesus’ words when he sat down with his disciples the night before he was crucified. He did not look at them and say, “I am doing this because you guys and every other human being are messed up.” He did not say that. He said, “Take, eat. This is my body.” In the Last Supper, Jesus did not blame, he gave. He did not pound the disciples with their sins, their faults. He invited them to be near to him.

What motivated Jesus as he gathered his friends in that intimate setting for the more personal of meals? What drove him as he willingly, knowingly, went into the hands of people who would beat him and then turn him over to Rome to be flogged, mocked, spit upon, and crucified? Why did Jesus go through this? Many here could answer this easily, but I need to press the question so that I can receive from God freedom from my own guilt. And I think many who have participated tonight also need that freedom. What I shared at the outcome – my own pressing sense of unworthiness – I think many feel that way at the communion table and not just there but every time the church gathers for worship. I think many stay away from church to avoid dealing with the oppressive sense of unworthiness.

Jesus did not drown his disciples in their failures. He said, “Here I am. Take. Eat.” He invited them into a new covenant. “Drink all of you,” He said. “I will drink it with you in my Father’s Kingdom.” Why?

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16).

^17(V) And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and^(W) knelt before him and asked him, "Good Teacher, what must I do to^(X) inherit eternal life?" ¹⁸And Jesus said to him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. ¹⁹You know the commandments:^(Y) 'Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.'" ²⁰And he said to him, "Teacher,^(Z) all these I have kept from my youth." ²¹And Jesus,^(AA) looking at him,^(AB) loved him, and said to him, "You lack one thing: go,^(AC) sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have^(AD) treasure in heaven; and come, follow me" (Mark 10:17-21).

“Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end” (John 13:1).

Jesus hosted his friends at the table, and he invites us to His table out of love. Jesus went through the pain of the cross out of love. Jesus loves me. Jesus loves you. Confession has its place and confession involves painful honesty and true recognition of the sin that is in us. Confession is a part of our practice of the Lord’s Supper. But, Jesus loves us far too much to accept our debasement of ourselves. Jesus will not have us hate on ourselves the way I did at the outset. I spoke my honest feelings. Now, I need to fall into the love of Jesus, receive his forgiveness, rest in his embrace, and stand in his grace. We all need to do that.

What happens after the supper with the disciples, as we read it in Matthew, drives home the point. In our Holy Week worship and in our practice of faith throughout life, there is one driver that tells the story and it is not sin. Sin is in the story. My sins darken the pages of the story. Your sins and mine are black marks, insults to God, lashes on Christ’s bloodied back. But our sins do not write this story. The driver of the story is the love of Jesus. The love of Jesus determines who we are; who I am; who you are.

It says after they sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. As they walk in the cool of the evening, Jesus says, “You will all fall away because of me this night” (26:31). Two characters stand out in this portion of the Gospel. Peter denied Jesus. Judas betrayed him. But he describes all 12 as deserters. He tells them anyone of them might be the betrayer. And they are all so confident of their faithfulness, they immediately begin to “be distressed and to say to him and to one another, ‘Surely not I’” (Mark 14:19)?

We do well to mark the shaky faith of the disciples. We do well to enter the story at that point because we have our moments of weakness. “You will all be deserters.” Jesus speaks to our heart, but not to drive us into dungeons of guilt. Jesus speaks truth to us. Only in knowing the truth about ourselves and in knowing Jesus who is the truth (and the way and the life) can we be free. Moments come when we fail him; but, that’s not all Jesus says. He speaks to the disciples as the walk from the house, up the mountain pass, to the Garden of Gethsemane.

From places of safety, into the night of uncertainty, into the fog of the unknown future, into the threatening shadows of anxiety and fear, Jesus walks with us. As we go, he speaks with us. He tells us we will have moments of failure. He says more.

“It is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered’” (Matthew 26:31c-d). These words from the prophet Zechariah originally spoke the dispersion of God’s people from the Promised Land. Jesus applied the prophet’s words to the fear-filled retreat and subsequent hiding of his followers upon his arrest. It looks like the high priest Caiaphas initiates the suffering of Jesus, and the merciless Roman soldiers ratchet the violence up a notch. But God acts in the midst of this human evil. “I will strike the shepherd.” I don’t think God moved those who hurt Jesus as if they were puppets on strings. They sinned with their hatred, the disciples sinned in their cowardice and we sin in the 1000 ways we sin. God acted within the context of sin – scattering and then gathering.

As they walked from the house where they took the supper, through the heavy night, to the Garden of Jesus’ agonizing prayer – as they walked – Jesus spoke with them. “You will all fall away because of me this night” (26:31b). “It is written, ‘[God] will strike the shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered’” (26:31c-d). As we walk through the highs and lows of life, he speaks to us. We will desert Him. We will be scattered. He says more.

“After I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee” (26:32). Just as the supper was not about our sinful failings, but rather it was about Jesus’ faithfulness and love, so too his words on this walk up the Olivet Path are not about the sins we will commit. As bad as I might feel about what I have done, I will sin again. Tonight isn’t about that and indeed, my life is not about the sins I have committed or will commit.

The author of the story is Jesus and the subject of the story is His love at work in me, at work in you. Though we cannot see around the next bend, we can trust the one who sees all. We can trust that He makes good on his promises. He knows we will fail Him, yet he promises that he will go before us. Jesus is well aware of how awful the cross will be; even worse will be his sense that God, his Father, has given Him over to death.

Let there be no minimizing of how terrible that time was for Jesus. He was a man and went something worse than any man or woman had before or has since. He suffered physically. He suffered unjustly – he was innocent of all accusations. He suffered relationally – his closest friends betrayed, denied, and abandoned him. And he suffered separation from God. But, he had vision to see beyond it. And He has vision to see beyond our lowest moments. This is His story, and His story involves His great promise to go before us and wait for us.

Following the text in Matthew, the screen narrows in on Peter who, lacking the benefit of knowledge of the resurrection, refuses to accept the script Jesus is writing. He pledges his faithfulness even on pain of death. Jesus tells Peter his denial among all the others will be the one remembered. The other disciples some how don’t hear Jesus prophesy Peter’s moment of shame. Instead, they follow their bombastic companion’s lead and also pledge their fidelity.

We have the blessing of History. We know the cross leads to an empty tomb. But, even with that knowledge, even knowing the Holy Spirit of the resurrected Lord lives in us, we still deny and flee into the night at moments of weakness just as the 12 did. Which is why the final word – not something Jesus said but something He did – is so important for us.

As they walked Jesus said, “You will all fall away because of me this night” (26:31b). “It is written, ‘[God] will strike the shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered’” (26:31c-d). “After I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee” (26:32).

“Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane” (36:36a).

He did not simply promise to be waiting for them on the other side, after the horrors of the arrest and the trial and the cross. He went with them.

I do not know the state of your heart this evening, this Holy Week. Some might be in an unwinnable battle with sin. Others may already be basking in the brilliant light of resurrection. Wherever you are, wherever we are, the words of Jesus to us on the path are true, timely, and timeless. He is going before us, and He is with, and the reason is he loves us.

The Easter story is a love story – a story of Jesus loving us. If there is one thing to hold on to when life is coming apart at the seams it is the unshakable truth that when we are in Christ, we are in the steady hands of God. Even that night, though he appeared as a leader of a pathetically small band of powerless men, Jesus had control of the story and all earthly powers around him ultimately served God’s purposes even as they tried to destroy God’s son. The words of Jesus on the path that night are the words he sends us off with this night. We can sum up what he says with his words that end Matthew’s Gospel. “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (28:20b).

AMEN