"No More of This!"

Christopher Harris
by sculptor Rudolph Torrini

On June 7, 1991, in a section of the City of St. Louis that had once been my home, a gun fight between two men broke out in a drug deal that went terribly wrong.  Christopher Harris, a nine-year-old African American boy was used as a human shield.  Christopher was shot in the back and died as a result of the violence.  The tragedy prompted some in the St. Louis community to surrender their guns.  A bronze cast statue of Christopher, dedicated six years after the killing, is filled with the melted parts of handguns.  It is a memorial to all the children lost in violence and as a symbol of healing.  The statue stands as part of the SSM Cardinal Glennon Children's Medical Center on South Grand Boulevard in St. Louis.

Trayvon Martin
February 5, 1995-February 26, 2012

On February 26, 2012, another African American youth, a seventeen-year-old high school student named Trayvon Martin was killed in gun violence in Sanford, Florida.  George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch coordinator was charged with murder in Martin's death and was eventually acquitted of second-degree murder and manslaughter charges on July 13, 2013.  That verdict has prompted an outcry from many who believe that justice was not served by this case.  Racial profiling is rooted in prejudice that threatens the very foundations of our society.  The tragic rush to violence diminishes us all.

I wonder today about how it will all end . . . What is the antidote to our deadly disease of violence?  Where is the monument that will help us remember, grieve, and heal after the tragic death of Trayvon Martin?  What sense might be made of this?  What difference will I make?  What will we do now? 

Today, I hear Jesus say, "No more of this!"  In Luke 22:49ff., when Jesus' followers tried to resist his arrest with violence, Jesus rejected their action with a stern rebuke.  "No more of this!" was his response to the injury they inflicted on the high priest's slave.  When the threat against him was great, when his death was drawing near, Jesus responded to bring healing to a slave's ear.

Yes, today, I hear Jesus say, "No more of this!" to the endless arguing by advocates for gun ownership without any restrictions.  Our real security is never in the idolatrous weaponry that we would use to defend ourselves.  "No more of this!"

"No more of this!" echoes down to those who would be self-proclaimed vigilantes for justice.  Tin-star, stand-your-ground laws will not make our society safer.  Ultimately, our true security is not in our own right or our own might to defend our selves.  "No more of this!"

"No more of this!" is Jesus' warning to all who would divide us by teaching doctrines of fear and separation.  Our security is not in huddling in closed circles but in growing in our understanding of and love for others no matter what their race or creed or nationality or sexual orientation--or whether we deem them to be friend or foe.  "No more of this!" 

I hear our Jesus crying out, "No more of this!" to the deaths of children and youth in our own streets.  The violence in St. Louis, Aurora and Newtown, and  Sanford must stop.  Now!  "No more of this!"

O God, in your suffering may we find our true security.  Lift the cross of your Son, Jesus, as a symbol of hope and healing amid all the injurious words and deeds that we inflict on others.  May it remind us that none of us is truly innocent, but that all of us are enmeshed in the way of violence and death.  Help us to remember, to grieve the deaths, and to cherish the lives of those who have been victims of violence in your world.  Make us agents of your reconciling love, your justice, and your peace.  Amen.

 

And Nothing Will Hurt You

It was great to be in Gorham, leading worship and meeting with the pastoral search committee this morning.  Last year, when the congregation celebrated its 150th Anniversary, the chosen theme was Honor the Past . . . Build the Future.  I sense that this church is living into a new future.  Of the 41 folks in worship on this holiday weekend (it looked like more to me), six were guests who came to visit.  The Spirit is stirring in Gorham.  A future is being built.  It is good.

As I was preaching, a tiny text within the text caught my attention as it had not done before.  It is part of Jesus' response to the ministry of the seventy apostles that he commissioned and sent out to be his advance teams.  Here it is: "See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you."  And nothing will hurt you.  I take this to be a powerful promise.

Of course, there are things that might cause us trouble--like scorpions and snakes, biting criticism and intense conflict, boredom or restlessness of spirit, chronic or incurable diseases, grief and loss, and death itself.  Jesus does not say that snakes won't strike or that scorpions won't sting.  But his promise feels stronger to me than anything we can experience or imagine:  And nothing will hurt you.

In some respects, this reminds me of the way that Paul taunts death itself in I Corinthians 15. 

 

"Death has been swallowed up in victory."

 

"Where, O Death is your victory?

   Where, O Death is your sting."

 

 

There are still lots of things that may unsettle me and cause trouble.  Something sometime will kill me; but I hold fast to the word I heard in the midst of other words today:  "And nothing will hurt you."  Here is the source of my courage and my comfort. 

 

 

O Lord Christ, when I am tempted to fear, grant me such faith that in life and in death I may trust your presence and your promise.  You inscribe my name on your heart.  You fit me for eternal life.  You bless me with empowering assurance--no matter what comes--it will be well.  I hear you say, "And nothing will hurt you."  I take your word to heart.  You are my hope.  Alleluia.  Amen.