It’s Not Over

April 18, 2010

John 21:1-14, 25

The Gospel of John ends at chapter 20. In a matter of verses it comes to a neat and tidy conclusion: Jesus rises from the dead … disciples find the tomb open and empty … Mary Magdalene meets the risen Christ … Doubting Thomas is invited to touch and believe.

Then John, the author, turns to his audience – which is us – and offers a final summation:

Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may … believe that Jesus is the Messiah … and through believing you may have life in his name.

What else needs to be said at that point? The Gospel is complete, its purpose explained. Loose ends are tied up. Let’s close the book and move on.

Before we do, though, we notice a P.S. – chapter 21. It’s a note is tacked on at the end of John’s report. There’s more to say! The Gospel resumes, saying:

“After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples …”

* *

Just when we thought it was over … it’s not.

Ending becomes beginning – as it always does for Easter people. The story is done … then it isn’t. Old becomes new.

“More, after these messages,” as they say on TV.

It’s not over. In chapter 21, the Gospel of John gets a second wind. Jesus shows himself to the disciples. “Again.”

They go back to their boats, assuming the adventure with Jesus is finished. They endure a long and frustrating night (who hasn’t?) only to experience a miraculous catch of fish at the dawn of a new day. Peter, who is naked, puts on clothes and jumps into the sea. (Doesn’t that sound backwards? At Easter, everything reverses!) The risen Christ meets them on shore, and offers a meal – a kind of rudimentary Communion.

There’s much to talk about here. But, personally, what fascinates me is the mere existence of a postscript to the Gospel. I’m struck by the idea of Jesus revealing himself to his followers long after the resurrection and the church keeping track of those times.

It got me wondering: What kind of postscripts, would we add to the Gospel? What evidence do we have that the renewal of all things in Christ is underway even now? Is it true that all the books in the world could not contain everything Jesus has said and done? Where do you see new beginnings at the point of dead ends? If you wrote the next chapter, what would it say?

* *

I think about Denise F’s daughter-in-law’s father. (How’s that for a mouthful?)

Jerry W. suffered with heart complications for years. Things looked dicey, at best. His prognosis was guarded. But two weeks ago, on the Saturday before Easter, he was called into surgery, and woke up the next morning with a new heart – Easter morning. Talk about a resurrection!

Denise told us about it at committee night last Monday, and I said, “That’ll preach!” It‘s a sign that Easter’s not over. God is still working. For life!

Of course, I don’t want to take it too lightly. Resurrection always comes at the cost of crucifixion. New life comes at the expense of death.

Likewise, the family’s gain surely came with a terrible loss for some anonymous heart donor, and his or her loved ones. Somebody’s Easter probably wasn’t so joyous.

Yet I pray there was some consolation for them. Knowing that one death brought life to another may help. And the assurance that their loved one’s heart is still beating may help them say, “It’s not over.”

* *

I think too about a woman who came in off the street to my office last week, asking for help from the Pastor’s Fund. Her name was vaguely familiar. I asked, and she said,

I was here five years ago, and one month. Then I got drunk and passed out driving my car. I hit someone and killed them and didn’t even know it till I went to court and was charged with homicide. When I found out, I wanted to die. Killing someone is bad. I did five years in prison.

While I was in, my son was murdered. I was so sad I wanted to take my own life. But people talked to me and encouraged me to live.

Now I’m out, with nothing but the clothes on my back and shoes on my feet. And I’m going to make a new start.

I didn’t give her any food certificates or bus passes, which I sometimes do. Instead, I connected her to a shelter where she can stay that will keep her away from alcohol and other influences she doesn’t need, and that offers the influences she does need. I helped her locate a medical clinic for a check-up and counseling as well.

I say, “I did.” But you did it too for her, by being the kind of church that welcomes the stranger and cares for the needy. And Christ did it through us, letting her know that no matter how hard it is and has been for her, it’s not over. She still has a chance.

In that same vein, I think of people with cancer. We all know folks that are or were there – people who get the original diagnosis and say, “I can’t fight it. I’m too weak. And the news is so bad.” But God doesn’t let go, and the doctors don’t give up. And the family hangs in too. And the hard work of healing and recovery goes on.

In a lighter moment, I think about the bottom of the ninth with two outs, no one on base, and the home team down by three runs … yet an electric charge moves through the crowd. There’s no reason for it, no explanation, but everyone rises and cheers against the long odds, in hope of a rally.

I think about the unspeakably awful events of 9/11 … and how, out of that, a new urgency and openness for interfaith dialogue arose, involving Muslims, Christians, and Jews to counter the violent tendencies of Al-Queda and remove misperceptions long held between the various factions, so that such atrocities might be averted in the future.

I think about men and women emerging from divorce … same sex couples tired of having to endure taunts and lies and condemnation because of the person they love … teenagers breaking up with a boyfriend or girlfriend and feeling completely alone. These are people who need to hear the church say “it’s not over” and “we’ll help you move forward.”

I’m grateful today that Diane E. has helped us think today about times when a person who feels like a “nobody” is enabled to be “somebody” again through Greater Tosa Interfaith, and know “it’s not over.”

Earthquakes, floods, volcanoes, and war: Some days the news is so bad, it feels like the end of the world. But even then, today’s postscript from God says: It’s not over.

I think of Martin Luther King in prison, or facing death threats at home. Even more, preaching his “mountaintop” sermon in Memphis, Tennessee, on the last night of his life, not knowing that a bullet would rip through him the next day. “I’ve been to the mountaintop,” he proclaims,

And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about a thing. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

He knew that his life could end any instant, yet was able to point to a larger hope – a resurrection, not just for him, but all people together and a reign of peace coming through Jesus Christ for the whole world … a promised land where God’s people are headed. A promised land, even for sanitation workers and other outcasts he preached to that night … a promised land where everyone knows it’s not over.

* *

Tony Campolo is an evangelical preacher and prolific author. I think of him telling about the first funeral he ever went to [Festival of Homiletics audiotape, 2003]. It was for a 19-year old friend, African-American, named Clarence who died tragically.

For the first fifteen minutes, the black preacher stood in the pulpit preaching about the glory and love awaiting us in heaven. He did it so beautifully (as Campolo says) that “I wished I was dead.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the preacher came down from the pulpit and talked to the family directly, personally, offering them comfort.

Then, for the last twenty minutes he stood by the casket, talking to Clarence. The casket was open, lid up. The black preacher said, “CLARENCE! CLARENCE!” with such authority the assembled crowd thought the body in the casket might answer.

He said, “Clarence, there’s so much we didn’t get to say to you. So much we didn’t get to do.” Twenty minutes, talking about all the wonderful, beautiful things Clarence had done in his short life for others.

Then the preacher did one more thing. He reached up to the top of the open casket, took hold of it, and said, “That’s it, Clarence. There’s nothing more to say. And when there’s nothing more to say, there is only one thing to say, ‘Good night, Clarence. Good night, Clarence!’”

And he slammed the lid shut. (I doubt you’ll ever see me do that!)

Everyone was in shock. The preacher said again, “Good night, Clarence! Because God is going to give you a gooood morning!” And the choir stood up and sang, “On that great gettin’ up morning we shall rise, we shall rise!”

And people were dancing in the aisles of the church and hugging one another.

* *

There are all sorts of endings in our lives, all sorts of things we don’t want to go through. But even when death comes, it’s not over. Different, maybe. Painful, certainly. Strange, without a doubt.

But as long as we have Easter, it’s not over. Because Easter is a story that comes with a P.S.

We all have times that look like the end. Sometimes it really is the end – the end of what you and I can do or say. But at that very moment, when there’s nothing else to say or do, God may be ready to write another whole chapter for us … or ask us to take out pen and paper and add our own P.S.

To the glory of God.