Easter 4

When the sun went down, life slowed down. That’s how it used to be.

When illumination after dark meant a smoky oil lamp or a dangerously dripping tallow candle, there were limitations on activities. Forget all those Hollywood movies. The rich might have had enough candle-power (and servants) to light up a ballroom or a banquet hall. But for common, everyday people, the light of one or two lamps and the glow from a small cooking fire was all that brightened the night. Even the faintest light was far more welcoming than being outside in the darkness.

As the danger that slips in under cover of darkness approaches, the most vulnerable must be gathered and guarded. No one knew this better than the Palestinian shepherds of the first century. Their flocks were vulnerable to the predations of four-legged hunters and two-legged poachers. Under cover of darkness any stray sheep was a potential “meals-on-wheels” for all sorts of hungry hunters. Communal sheepfolds, small walled enclosures, were often shared by several different flocks and their shepherds. Coming together for safety during the night was essential for survival.

Jesus’ parable in today’s Gospel describes that kind of coming together. But Jesus offers something more than just a way to “make it through the night.” As Jesus revealed that he was both shepherd and gateway he enabled his listeners to gain a glimpse of the transformed way of living he would make possible.

Jesus offered “life,” and not just “life” but “abundant life” or “whole life” or “maximum life” or what one might call a “sizzle-while-it-drizzles” life.

Whole life, abundant life, is post-resurrection life. It is a life made possible because of Christ’s triumph over death and sin. Jesus invites us all to enter that post-resurrection reality. He is the gate, the entryway into a redeemed life, a reborn life, a reclaimed life, a sizzle-while-it-drizzles life. This kind of whole life is ours once we go through that gate, once we cross the threshold from despair to forgiveness, from brokenness to wholeness, from disillusionment to discipleship.

The whole life Jesus offers is a life lived out in this world—-a world of tears and tears, a world where the fabric of our lives is ripped to shreds and in need of repair. Jesus didn’t say that the “thief” who comes “only to steal and kill and destroy” would magically disappear. But for those who experience John 10:10 life – whole life, abundant life, maximum life – they have something the “thief” can never touch.

Now a John 10:10 life is not a perfect life. An abundant life is not a pain-free life. An abundant life is not a “charmed” life.

In fact, I will guarantee you this: even though you are a disciple of Jesus, even though you have experienced God’s amazing grace, there will be periods when life is unpleasant.

Back in Fredonia, New York, where I lived for eight winters, there was a lot of grey. From November through April, it seemed to either snow or rain every day. Many times, the rain was a steady drizzle. It might drizzle for three or four days at a time.

Some people cannot take the drizzle. They fall prey to a medical syndrome called SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder. And they require either a regime of UV light therapy or a trip to Florida to get their psyches back in synch.

Yet others thrive. Despite the endless grey and the dripping damp, they flourish and grow stronger.

How do they do it? How do some people continue to sizzle when it drizzles?

You need three things: an umbrella, some boots, and some wipes.

First, you need an umbrella. When it drizzles, seek out the umbrella of community.

That “getting together” is essential. When your abundant life springs a leak, seek shelter under the communal umbrella. Jesus used the image of sheep, the ultimate herd animal, to describe his people because sheep find identity in community. In the midst of a dark night, sheep need to feel the warmth of the herd pressing about them. A lone sheep is a lost sheep.

A seminary classmate of mine tells of a parishioner who hadn’t been to Sunday worship in a while. She rarely missed a Sunday for a couple years. Then she just vanished, without a word. So my classmate took her to lunch, where she explained that she was having a crisis of faith.

“So, how’s that going for you?” he asked.

“Not very well,” she admitted.

He replied: “Maybe you should try having your crisis of faith in the church with the rest of us. I’m sure you’re not the only one.”

Whether we come together in strength or in weakness, we stand together in Christ. There is no better place to be wet, or wounded, or weary, than in the center of a community that will offer protection and love.

I saw an incredible video that showed the battle of a herd of wildebeests for the life of one little calf in Kruger National Park in South Africa. Attacked first by one, then two, crocodiles, at the local watering hole, the jaws of a lion pulled the calf out of the water and out of the jaws of the reptiles! Yet just as the lions were preparing to drag away its prize, the herd, the community of huge, well-horned wildebeests, assembled. They surrounded the lions. They charged the lions. They forced the one lion to drop its hold on the calf and back off. Then the herd surrounded the calf — horns out. Ultimately, all the lions were driven off. And, against all odds, against the jaws of crocs and lions, the little calf survived. That is some umbrella: the community of faith who will never desert, never give up, never give you away.

Second, you need some boots. When it drizzles, wear your wellies. You need something to keep you from slipping, sliding, and sloshing.

The John 10:10 life has abundant resources for any rainy season. There are no better all-weather resistant resources than the texts and traditions of our faith. Each time you enter into the Scriptures you discover a new source of traction. Bible study is not just for kids in Sunday school. As we wade through the deepest puddles in life, it is the words of our ancestors we recall, the prayers we prayed, the stories of life and faith, which give us a good grip on the slippery surfaces we traverse.

And third, you need some wipes. When it drizzles, you need to keep your vision clear.

Arguably the best invention ever for weather was the intermittent wiper blade on a car’s windshield. When the rain is coming down, but not a steady downpour, the every-few-second wiper settings are perfect. Intermittent wipers are slow, occasional, low key, not hot shot. They give you a clear view, but do so by taking life at a different pace.

Sometimes the down and drizzly times in the abundant life are caused by allowing the world to set our pace, to set our agenda, to set our standards. Sometimes we need to clean off our grimy lenses and see beauty, truth, and goodness in their original glory and splendor.

Martha Beck wrote a book titled Expecting Adam. Martha and her husband, John, were graduate students at Harvard, well on their way to careers of academic distinction. Then Martha became pregnant for the second time and discovered that the baby would almost certainly have Down’s Syndrome. Although not religious in any formal sense, Martha and John decided not to terminate the pregnancy. Expecting Adam tells the story of their struggles, fears and pain. It also tells how the birth of Adam not only changed their understanding of what it means to be a ‘normal’ human being, but also transformed their lives. Near the end of the book Martha writes:

“I have discovered that many of the things I thought priceless are as cheap as costume jewelry, and much of what I labeled worthless was, all the time, filled with the kind of beauty that directly nourishes my soul. Now I think that the vast majority of us ‘normal’ people spend our lives trashing our treasures and treasuring our trash.

“Living with Adam, loving Adam, has taught me a lot about the truth. He has taught me to look at things in themselves, not at the value a brutal and often senseless world assigns to them. As Adam’s mother, I have been able to see quite clearly that he is no less beautiful for being called ugly, no less wise for appearing dull, no less precious for being seen as worthless. And neither am I. Neither are you. Neither is any of us.”

You can live a sizzle-when-it-drizzles life – if you pick up that umbrella, put on some boots, and wipe your lenses clean and clear to see life as God designed it to be.