Two of my former seminary classmates are starting a church in west Frisco.  I told them I wasn’t aware that Frisco had a west side.  They assured me it does and, in seeking support from local churches, they invited several local pastors to a lunch meeting this past week.  In giving me directions to the place where they were meeting Jim Johnson told me I should take one of the very first exits after getting on the Tollway.  Those directions might have been good, except that I think of getting on the Tollway somewhere just north of I-30.  His point of reference for “getting on the Tollway” was the Galleria, which from my perspective, is somewhere near Ardmore.  I got miserably lost and was reminded that, finding your way when you are lost, has everything to do with your point of reference when you start. 

By the time we get to the end of this story in the scripture for the morning, Thomas has found a new point of reference for his life and his faith.  Initially, his point of reference for everything he would do and believe was his unbelief that Jesus could and would actually rise from the dead.  Unless he could see and touch the mark the nails made, he wouldn’t go another step in following Jesus.  But, when Jesus appeared and actually gave him the chance to do see and touch, Thomas point of reference was changed from doubt to faith, “‘My Lord and my God!’”

Thomas was in good company with his doubts.  The disciples had as their only point of reference their fear of what would happen to them if the Jews found them.  The same people who had crucified Jesus might do as bad or worse to them.  Doubt and fear were their only points of reference.  And, for a long time, I’ve somewhat looked down on them for that.  Until lately.

For some reason of late, I’d have the sacred privilege of listening while several people have told me their personal stories.  Amazing stories, for the most part.  Stories that have humbled me and, in some cases, left me feeling what must have been a low-grade guilt.  Humbled me because, in every single case, I’ve been amazed at how well these people have done despite the enormity of their struggle.  Low grade guilt because their stories made me aware of how easily I’ve judged others in the past before I knew their story.  We do that don’t we?  We do what Jesus said not to (Matthew 7:1).  We judge each other.  And, when we do, because we never know the whole story, we misjudge.

Like I have every time I’ve ever read this story about the disciples locked away for fear.  What’s wrong with these guys anyway?  Sure, it makes sense.  The scent of fresh blood was still in the air.  But, if Jesus loved them enough to die for them, who are they to stay in hiding?  I’ve wanted to shout at them, “Stand up!  Stand up for Jesus, ye soldiers of the cross!”  I’ve wanted to shout.  This time, I decided to listen to their story.  When I did, I was humbled and left with more than a low-grade guilt. 

The disciples’ story is, in many cases, ours.  Yours and mine.  These followers of Jesus were locked away for fear.  Many of us who call ourselves his followers have been, too.  If we want to know the power of the words Jesus spoke when he finally entered that fearful room, we’re going to have to stop and listen first to the disciples’ fears, even our own.  Fear is a part of our story, too.  And, just as it did for them, it may prove to be what helps lead us to faith and courage. 

First hand experience with that this week.  If you had seen me Friday you might have thought I had the flu or that I had just found out the Annuity Board had misplaced all my retirement funds or that my dog had died.  But, what had actually happened was that Griffin drove himself and his brother to school for the first time without me in the car.  You want to talk about fear?  I can talk about fear this morning.  And, not just the fear of what can happen when two teenage boys are propelling themselves down the road in a two-ton bullet.  It is the fear, too, of what life is going to be like now because I’m the one left behind.  The two people on this planet who have more of me invested in them than any other people alive are moving on without me.  I spent some time locked away out of the fear of being left behind by those I love.

Do you think that’s part of what made the disciples afraid?  They’d faced the Jews before.  But, Jesus had always been there with them when they had.  Now, they’d have to go it alone.  Not to mention the fact that they’d invested three years of their lives in following this one man.  Now, he’s moved on without them.  They’ve been left behind.  Understanding what happens next, when the resurrected Jesus comes walking into that room, means trying to understand how powerful that kind of fear can be.  How it keeps all of us locked away. 

Just this week I was visiting with one of our members about how our church, like many churches, has not made evangelism the priority it should be.  We’ve done so very much good work over the years here.  So much good.  But, one thing we’ve agreed is lacking is the commitment and willingness to talk with people about what Jesus has done for us and what we believe he can do for them.  We talked about how both of us have in common a lot of guilt about that.  And, I couldn’t help but wonder what it is that keeps our witness locked away.  Is it fear?  And, if it is, fear of what?

I’ve made a decision about something and I need to share it with you.  Our church has recently adopted a new mission statement, Sharing Christ Through Caring Relationships.  We have said that is what we should be about locally and globally.  We believe it is our responsibilities to be bearers of Jesus’ good news to people who have not yet heard it and then help them become followers of Jesus, too.  And, this is what I’ve decided.  I am not going to give leadership to that mission by standing in this pulpit and preaching condescending sermons to you about how you should go out and stand up, stand up for Jesus. 

The only way I know to come at this with any integrity is to ask you to join me in asking why we’ve been so afraid of ever doing that in the first place.  If we are going to share Christ in caring ways with others, that care is going to have begin right here in the way we love each other enough to confess our fears and listen with compassion to each others’. 

At least part of what had the disciples afraid was what those who had rejected Jesus had proven capable of doing to those who chose to follow him.  So, they all got together in one room and kept their faith to themselves.  Despite all the evidence that our postmodern world is more and more open to the discovery of spirituality, we live in an increasingly pluralistic and secular culture.  If America ever was a Christian nation, it is becoming increasingly something else.  There are more Muslims in the United States now, for example, than there are Episcopalians.  The growth of the Mormon Church is far outstripping that of Southern Baptists.  How do we know that what we have to give this world out of our faith experience with Christ will gain a respectful hearing?  Is it not true that, too often, we too have just responded to that fear by getting together in one room and kept our faith to ourselves?

What in the world does Jesus have to say to people like you and me who too often lock ourselves away in fear?  People who have not only betrayed him overtly at times but who have also too often kept our faith locked away for fear of others.  Well, let’s listen again to what he said to the disciples.  “Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’”

Peace, he said.  What you have been and done doesn’t matter anymore.  Peace!  Peter heard him say it.  The very one who stood by the fire and denied him three times the night of his arrest.  Judas could have been there to hear him say it.  Every one of the other disciples who had left Jesus to face the cross alone and had now gotten together to keep their faith locked away heard him say it, too.  To people who had as there most recent memory the fact that they had betrayed the same Jesus they had pledged to follow to the death, Jesus said, “‘Peace.’”

At the lowest time in their lives.  When they had been at their very worst, Jesus says, “‘Peace.’”  This is the gospel.  What had been didn’t matter anymore.  Not that it hadn’t mattered.  What they had done had mattered enough to get Jesus killed.  But, in the power that only grace makes possible, he took their betrayal and turned into their salvation.  This is gospel.  “Remember that . . . you were separate from Christ . . . without hope and without God in the world.  But, now in Christ Jesus you who were once far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ.  For he himself is our peace (Ephesians 2:12-14, NIV).”  By the very blood we helped spill, by that blood, we have been brought back into relationship with the God we have, all of us, denied in some way at some time.

Like the times, the many times, I felt that inner prompting to say something to Jimmy Melear about Jesus.  We grew up playing together.  He lived just three or four houses down the street.  His dad owned the Dairy Queen where we hung out more hours than I can count.  How many times did Jesus want me to just say something to Jimmy and I never did?  I was so afraid of what Jimmy would think.  That was thirty years ago and I’ve never forgotten.  I have absolutely no idea what ever happened to Jimmy.  And, I’ve wondered all these years if he ever heard what I was afraid to tell him.  I’ve also wondered, more than once, what Jesus thought of my betrayal.

This is what Jesus’ words to his disciples mean to me this morning.  By his grace, all that has ever been doesn’t matter anymore.  Jesus has taken care of my past, even my betrayals.  When we’re at our lowest.  When we’ve been most cowardly, most afraid, most unfaithful, Jesus comes to give us peace.  The very thing that most of us keep looking for, working for, dreaming of, living in fear we’ll never find, Jesus just give us, his peace.  By the way, that’s the only way itcan come to us.  The peace we all so desperately want either comes to us as the gift of God or it doesn’t come at all.  

Someone tried to run it by me again not long ago.  “God helps those who help themselves,” they said.  I think I know what people may mean when they say that.  It just breaks my heart that, too often, it’s the very people who’ve heard the gospel all their lives could still conclude that “God helps those who help themselves.”  I’m so glad our church doesn’t have one of those marquees on the street.  I’d have to come up with a saying every week so people could drive by, read it and say, “Isn’t that cute?”  After several weeks of having to come up with a new quip every week, I’d get so desperate I might actually slip and put up something that wasn’t even true.  Like, “God helps those who help themselves.”  The reason I know it isn’t true is because of events like this where Jesus walks right into the middle of cowardice to announce his peace.  This is at least part of what it means when Jesus announces his peace to the very people who have betrayed and so frightened they keep their faith locked up inside.  God helps those who can’t help themselves.  That’s what “‘Peace’” means.  It also means something else.  We haven’t been left behind.

Jesus said, “‘As the Father sent me, so I send you . . . Receive the Holy Spirit.’”  Jesus has come to set us free from what has been and empowered us for what might yet be.  The Holy Spirit is nothing less than the “I will never leave you or forsake you” presence of God with us in every moment.  His presence to encourage us, to empower us, to just be with us.  We have not been left behind.The Holy Spirit is the very presence of the risen Christ in the hearts of all who trust him for their salvation.  His presence, again, as gift.  Nothing we can earn.  Nothing we can conjure up. 

Jim gave me directions to the building on the North Tollway where they’d be meeting, 15601 Dallas North Tollway.  I finally figured out that it was north of the Galleria.  But, after I followed every direction he’d given me, I was still lost.  Finally, I pulled over into a parking lot and called him on my cell phone but all I got was his voice mail.  “Sorry, Jim,” I said, “but, I’m lost.  I can’t find the building with the directions you gave me.  I’m going to just have to go back to the office and let you tell me about the meeting later.”  I hung up my phone and started driving out of the lot.  As I did I looked up and saw the number on the building.  The one where I’d been sitting in the parking lot calling Jim to tell him I was lost.  15601.  The very building I couldn’t find was sitting right there beside me the whole time.

This is the gospel.  We’re closer to God’s peace and power than any of us could ever imagine.  But, it is not because we have followed our neatly planned strategies to their logical conclusion and found God waiting on us at the end of them.  God has come to us.  All that we seek is right here.  Not just in this room but in the Christ who is in us.  His peace and his power are his gifts to us.  They can be, if we choose them, our new point of reference.  Not our fear, but his peace. 

When Thomas finally realized that, all he could do was say, “‘My Lord and my God!’”