Fourth Sunday in Easter
Acts 4:5-12; John 10:11-18
May 3, 2009

Too Small for the Gospel

Most of us have lived in Tallahassee long enough to know that in the final days of the Legislative Session, strange things can happen. Perhaps it has something to do with the water supply or the air-conditioning system in the capitol building. Whatever the cause, some legislators begin to behave in bizarre ways.

Case in point: Last week, Senators Ronda Storms and Gary Siplin sponsored a bill that would establish what they called a "Trinity" license plate. On this plate would be, in Senator Siplin’s own words, "a picture of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

The good senator did not submit a design for the license plate, which is surprising. In these days of cell phone cameras and U-Tube videos, images are not hard to come by. Perhaps he could use the image discovered by Pastor Renee Brewster of Marion County. Last year she discovered an image of Jesus while making potato salad for her church. She sliced a potato and there he was.

At the conclusion of his famous book on the subject, Albert Schweitzer warned that scholars who think they have captured the historical Jesus can be compared to those who look down a deep well and discover their own reflection at the bottom. Perhaps, when the Session ends, Senator Siplin could read Schweitzer’s Quest of the Historical Jesus. Or even better, he could read the Bible. He will find there many interesting and sometimes contrasting images of Jesus.

At least two images – perhaps more – emerge from today’s scripture passages. The first comes from the Gospel of John. "I am the good shepherd," Jesus tells us. "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep."

The word we translate "good" in Greek is kalos, which carries a rich range of meanings. Kalos means sound, noble, ideal, competent, faithful, praiseworthy. We could translate "I am the model shepherd." Jesus is no mere hired hand, who abandons the flock the first sign of danger. He’s the kind of shepherd who puts his life on the line for the sake of the sheep.

My grandfather, who was primarily a West Texas farmer, also raised a few head of cattle. This was enough to make him a cattleman through and through. One year, however, Granddaddy attempted to raise sheep. He concluded that sheep were the stupidest creatures God ever made, but that’s probably because a good cattleman makes a terrible shepherd.

You see, you can’t drive sheep. If you try to force them to go ahead of you, they will run around behind you and leave you in the lead. Granddaddy took this as a sign of utter stupidity. When you think about it, it’s pretty smart. It’s a dangerous world out there, full of pitfalls and unseen terrors. Sheep will follow the shepherd because they trust him. They know his voice and they follow his lead.

"I have other sheep . . ." Jesus goes on to say. "I must bring them in also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd."

As I read this text, it speaks of inclusion, of redrawing boundaries, of incorporating outsiders, of unity in response to the call of the Good Shepherd. It also speaks of risk – for reaching out is not without its dangers. The Good Shepherd is willing to lay down his life for the sake of the whole flock which, even as we speak, is incomplete.

Reformed theologians love to talk about God’s "prevenient grace." That’s the grace that goes ahead of us, preparing the way. We think we’re all alone, independent actors, free agents. Then, by grace, we come to realize that the Good Shepherd has been going ahead of us all along. Whether or not we were aware of it, God has been this way before.

I wonder, How would you capture this Jesus on a license plate? Perhaps, instead of picturing a bearded man with long hair and long robes who looks a bit like state senator in drag, it would be more accurate to show the back of Jesus’ head as he goes ahead of us, seeking the lost, searching for good watering places and safe pastures, calling out to the outcast and estranged -- people who feel they could never belong.

An image like that might not sell many license plates, but it would come a lot closer to depicting the "Lord and Savior" of John 10.

Perhaps there would be room on our license plate for another image of Jesus, this one from Acts 4.

Peter and his colleagues have spent the night in jail, and now they’re standing before the crème de la crème of Jerusalem. Annas the high priest is there, along with most of his relatives – Caiaphas, John, and Alexander – plus an impressive array of rulers, elders, and scribes. In other words, Peter is standing before the same bigwigs who condemned Jesus and turned him over the Pontius Pilate for crucifixion. The bigwigs want to know by what power or name Peter managed to transform a man crippled from birth into a laughing, leaping witness to the grace of God.

Peter’s reply: "By the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth . . ." the very Jesus "whom you crucified and God raised from the dead."

What a transformation! Peter, who a few days earlier was slinking away from the courtyard of the high priest, denying that he even knew Jesus, has, by the power of the Holy Spirit, become the world’s most tactless preacher.

I didn’t make that crippled man whole. God did that, through the Holy Spirit, and if you want to know in whose name this kind if thing happens, it’s in the name of Jesus, the crucified and resurrected Jesus.

"There is no other name under heaven or given among mortals by which we must be saved," Peter tells the bigwigs, which some people interpret as meaning, "If you don’t believe in Jesus, you’ll go to hell."

I don’t think Peter in this passage means any such thing. The word "sozo" from which we get our word "salvation" means to heal, save, rescue, keep safe, make whole. "You rejected Jesus," Peter is saying. "God raised him. It is in Jesus that God is working to heal, save, rescue, keep safe, make whole. If you religious leaders can’t see that by now, you’re missing out on some very good news. God is way ahead of you, and you need to catch up."

The gospel, as I read it, is not about who gets damned to hell and who doesn’t. It’s about how God is bringing wholeness, health, reconciliation – indeed salvation – to the whole world through Jesus. It’s not about who gets left out. It’s about the God who keeps working to bring outsiders in. That’s the work of the Good Shepherd, the rock whom the builders rejected, who has become the head of the corner.

Last Friday I was down at Railroad Square taking part in curious sort of public liturgy. It was billed as the "Blessing of the Bicycles." It was, to say the least, an eclectic gathering. It began with a bluegrass band whose name I can’t repeat from this pulpit for fear of bringing down a lightning strike. After the band played, I was invited to the platform where I joined a shaman, a Native American elder, and a swami to "bless" folks who ride bicycles in our city.

The Native American elder had some feathers and a turtle shell. The shaman spoke of the resemblance between bicycle wheels and the circle of life. The swami had several sticks of smoking incense with which to cense the proceedings.

When my turn came, I stood at the microphone and explained that as a Presbyterian Christian, I can’t bless anyone or anything. I have no power to bless or curse, no authority to control the sovereign God. "But I can pray," I said.

So I prayed. I gave thanks for those present who had come seeking God’s blessing. I asked for safety and for a proper sense of the stewardship of God’s creation. I asked the Triune God to bless our city and those who live in it, and I gave thanks for the wonder and beauty of God’s creation. And, standing as I was in the name of Jesus, I ended my prayer in the name of Jesus.

You see, I believe with Peter that there is no other name by which we mortals receive health, wholeness, peace, reconciliation, and all the other blessings of life. "Salvation," if you prefer that term, comes from God and is not ours to bestow or limit. We see God’s saving grace most clearly in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. And, when God grants us grace to do so, we can sometimes glimpse it wherever the Spirit blows – in shamans, in elders, in swamis, and in sheep of various flocks.

I am not saying that there are many roads to God. I am saying that there is one flock and one Shepherd, the Shepherd who goes ahead, preparing the way, the Good Shepherd who seeks the lost and welcomes the outcast.

I’ve got good news and bad news for Senator Siplin. The bad news is this: The Jesus of the Bible won’t fit on a license plate. You just can’t shrink him down enough for that. But here’s the good news: In the words of Paul, God in Christ "is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine" (Eph. 3:20).

The gospel of Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd, is bigger than a bumper sticker. It’s even bigger than a license plate. We do a great disservice to God when we make Jesus too small, but we honor God when we point to Jesus, who is more than we can imagine.