In a small Swiss town there was a cathedral. It was called the Mountain Valley Cathedral. There has been a great deal of money spent on the wonderful stained-glass windows and tall arched ceiling. The cathedral also boasted of an outstanding pipe organ. The organ was designed in such a way that when it was played, people could hear it from all over the valley. As the people would work on their farms, they could often hear the organ as it was played. It gave great joy to the people of the valley for many decades.

Then one day the valley became silent. The organ was in need of repair. They called in one expert after another and yet no one was able to solve the problem. Specialists from all over Europe were asked to help and still no one was able to fix it.

Then one day when all hope was gone, an old man came to the cathedral. He asked if he could work on the organ. The sexton agreed and the old man worked for two days. The sexton was becoming nervous because the old man was saying nothing about what he was doing. Finally, on the third day, there was the sound of music all through the valley. People dropped what they were doing and ran to the cathedral. When the old man was done playing, the sexton asked why it was that he had been able to fix the organ after so many had failed. The old man said, "I am the one who built the organ, and I am the only one who can fix it."

This was the cry of Jesus as he looked over the city of Jerusalem. He wanted to fix the people but they would have nothing to do with him. The truth is that only the one who made us can fix us.

Adapted by Parables, Etc. (Platteville, Colorado: Saratoga Press), February 1987, p. 6.

In his autobiography, Dr. A.J. Cronin tells of a neighboring family called the Adamses. Mr. Adams was an accountant in New York City, but he loved to spend all the hours he could working in his garden at their Connecticut home with his only son, Sammy. When WWII broke out, Mrs. Adams suggested they take a refugee child into their home. Mr. Adams wasn't much in favor of the idea, but he went along with it to please her. The child they received came from an orphanage in Central Europe with the impossible name of Paul Piotrostansilis. Unfortunately, as Paul learned the language of his new family in Connecticut, he also learned to manipulate the truth. He found it easy to steal and do mischief and broke the Adams' hearts many times. He did, however, develop a close friendship with the Adams' little son, Sammy.

One day, Paul, against their specific warning, went swimming in a polluted stream near their home and came back with an infection that brought with it a raging fever. Because of the possibility it might be contagious, Paul was put in a separate room and Sammy was told to stay away from him. Paul eventually pulled through the crisis, but, while he was still sick, one morning the family found Sammy asleep in bed with Paul, the two of them breathing into each other's faces. And sure enough, Sammy caught the disease. The fever raged through him, and only four days later, Sammy died.

Dr. Cronin remembered hearing about the tragedy while away on an extended study leave. He wrote his neighbors, expressing his sympathy for them, telling them that he, for one, would understand should they feel the need to send Paul back, after all the heartache he had caused them. A few months later, upon returning from his leave, Dr. Cronin went next door to visit the Adamses and was surprised to see the same familiar sight of a man and a boy working side by side in the garden. Only this time the boy was Paul.

"You still have him then?" Cronin inquired. "Yes," Henry Adams replied, "and he is doing much better now." "All I can say to you, Paul," Cronin muttered, "is that you're a pretty lucky boy." "Dr. Cronin," Henry interrupted, "you don't need to bother trying to pronounce his name anymore, either. He is now Paul Adams. We have adopted him. He is now the son we lost."

That's the kind of love God has for us. A love that Jesus expresses in the face of threatened death, a love that goes about its business, in spite of the consequences. Love that adopts us as children. Love that makes us citizens of heaven. Love that puts us in our places and gives us our inheritances.

This past summer, there was a young mother mallard who had her brood. And it was interesting to watch how she took care of all seven of them. When anyone approached the lake, she became immediately aware and would gather her little brood together and hustle them along to hide in the reeds and brush that surrounded the edge of the lake. Once, someone went really close to get a better look, and she flew away. I was surprised by that at first – a mother abandoning her young. But then it became obvious what she was up to: She was offering herself as a decoy. She wanted the intruders to notice and follow her, away form her ducklings. She was willing to sacrifice herself in order to protect her offspring.

Now maybe we can understand the lament and the passion in Jesus' own voice. It is the cry of a mother who is worried to death about not only Jerusalem, but about all of us. Like a mother, Jesus sees far more clearly than do we, the children, the danger we are in. Like a mother, Jesus knows we tend to overestimate our powers and are prone to go off on our own, leaving the protective wings, to seek our own excitement and adventure. And like a mother, Jesus chases after us.

Do you see the image? Like a mother, Jesus' love is so great that his all-consuming passion is to sweep us up into his protective arms. And although there are others in pursuit of him, namely Herod, Jesus, like a mother is persistent. He sticks to what his love compels him to do. He pursues his flock with a passion. His answer to Herod shows that: He has a little work to do in Galilee yet, a few chicks to sweep beneath his wings; and then, he is headed to Jerusalem, where he will, in essence, fly off from his chicks alone and draw God's judgment to him so that the jaws of death might sink their teeth into his flesh only, and not into his children whom he loves with a mother-hen's protective passion.

In England in the 1940s a young woman entered Oxford University with little focus. She had no idea what to do with her life. But she soon came under the influence of a colorful professor of English, a writer with a gift, named C.S. Lewis. She became a Christian through much of his influence.

She left Oxford, against the advice of friends and family, and began to study nursing. After five more years of rigorous training, she was certified as a nurse.

But her story doesn't end there, for her questing, Christian spirit would not let her rest with the way things were. You see, she ended up working on a cancer ward in a London hospital. Gradually, she came to realize that most of the doctors ignored the patients who were deemed terminally ill. As a result she watched many of them die virtually alone.

Greatly troubled she felt that Christian compassion needed to be expressed to these patients in a visible way. She approached the hospital administration with an idea she had for surrounding those dying of cancer with friends and loved ones during their last days, rather than isolating them in sterile rooms with strangers. Her radical ideas were quickly rejected.

But undaunted, she decided to enroll in medical school to try to make a difference even though she was already 33 years old and would not graduate until she was 39. This she did and later a movement soon grew around her ideas that made it possible for dying patients to live their days in a setting of love and support.

Cicely Saunders, out of Christian compassion and a sense of calling to help in a specific way, began this movement in England in the 1950s. It later moved to the Americas and is now used everywhere and in every town. It is called the Hospice Movement, and it draws its inspiration from Jesus' own passion and compassion for his children -- "as a hen gathers her brood under her wings."

My prayer is that God will continually come to us in new ways and in fresh images, so that more Cicely Saunderses among us can be moved and inspired to take risks to join in God's compassion for his children. Amen.

In the Russian novel, The Brothers Karamazov, a woman has come to talk witha holy man about her problems with faith. "What if I've been believing all my life, and when I come to die there is nothing but burdocks growing over my grave? . . . How can I prove it? How can I convince myself?" The holy man's answer is: "By the experience of active love. In so far as you advance in active love, you will grow surer of the reality of God and of the immortality of the soul."

Jaques Maritain, the great French philosopher of the last century, said there were really only three questions that had to be answered: "Who am I?" "Where am I?" and "Where ought I to be going?" Jesus knew who he was, and where he was, and where he had to go. Lincoln knew. So have all great leaders and great men and women of faith known. Do we know? Or are we out of focus, our goals fuzzy and ill-defined? Our world is so insane, but not anymore so than the world of Jesus. Most people in his day, went to work every day, and came home, and were pulled this way and that. And they didn't ask the big questions very often. We remember Jesus because he did.

In his Large Catechism Martin Luther describes the church: "There is on earth a little holy flock or community of pure saints under one head, Christ. It is called together by the Holy Spirit in one faith. I was brought to it by the Holy Spirit and incorporated into it through the fact that I have heard and still hear God’s Word. In this Christian church we have the forgiveness of sins, which is granted through the holy sacraments and…the Gospel"

William Powell Tuck tells in his book, The Way for All Season, of a church where at the conclusion of a powerful and inspirational service, the congregation joined in singing the hymn, "I Surrender All." At the end of the hymn a young man jumped to feet and shouted, "You people don't mean a word of what you say! You sing, "I surrender all to Jesus," "Where He leads Me I will Follow," "Trust and Obey," and you don't believe a word of it. How many of you are willing to follow, surrender, trust and obey? How many?

The congregation sat stunned under the impact of his words, people were too shocked to even dismiss the young man as just another messed up kid. They were haunted by the question, speechless, until the youth leader, walked up to the podium and announced: "The following dramatic presentation was brought to you by the Youth Group." It was only then that the congregation let out a collective sigh of relief. I imagine, that more than one member thought, "Aren't those youth something" without ever giving the question they had raised another thought.

Do we really want to follow wherever Christ will lead us? Have we surrendered all to Jesus? Have we taken up the cross as our own? These tough questions are the questions of Lent.

Jesus called Herod a fox after some Pharisees reported that Herod wanted to kill Jesus. Jesus' response challenged any such plans: "Tell Herod I've got work to do first." Jesus was not implying that Herod was sly, rather he was commenting on Herod's ineptitude, or inability, to carry out his threat. Jesus questioned the tetrarch's pedigree, moral stature and leadership, and put the tetrarch "in his place." This exactly fits the rabbinic usage of "fox." Fox did not mean then what it means now. Jesus was cutting Herod down to size, and Jesus' audience may have had an inward smile of appreciation at the retort.

Herod was a pompous pretender. Jesus was direct. Antipas was a shu·al ben shu·al (a fox, the son of a fox). In other words - a small-fry.

It may come as a surprise to Christian listeners, who are used to thinking of Pharisees as hypocrites and enemies of Jesus, that in this passage it is Pharisees who warn Jesus to flee from Galilee because Herod wants to kill him. Not all Pharisees were hostile to Jesus. While Jesus and the Pharisees did not see things eye to eye, we find in Luke and Acts that Pharisees are often in the company of Jesus and not always antagonistic. Jesus is often invited to the home of a Pharisee for dinner (Luke 7:36, 11:37; 14:1). In Acts 5:33-39, when the Jewish Sanhedrin wanted to kill the apostles, a well-known Pharisee, Gamaliel, counsels them to be careful how they treat these men. If the undertaking of the apostles is of human origin, Gamaliel says, it will fail; "but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them in that case you may even be found fighting against God!" Some Pharisees had even become Christians (Acts 15:5). And of course we know that Paul himself was a Pharisee. In fact, in his defense before the Sanhedrin he uses the present tense and says, "I am a Pharisee" (Acts 23:6).

Today's passage almost has the feel of Aesop's fables with barnyard animals playing a starring role. In the short space of five verses, we find pictures of both a fox and a hen. Herod is called a fox. Jesus says he feels like a mother hen. And the people in Jerusalem are all the little chicks running around in great danger.

There is an old proverb that warns, "The fox is in charge of the henhouse." We might use that expression when we put the oil companies in charge of making sure we don't have price gouging during an oil crisis. There's a fox in charge of the hen house.

Jesus describes Herod as a "fox," a fascinating choice. I am sure that Herod would have preferred a nobler mascot. A fox is an animal noted for cunning, craftiness and slyness. A fox will prey on the young of others. And Herod could be just that ruthless, as we see in the fate of John the Baptist. Herod is a symbol for raw, political power.

Why a hen? Why not a lion, King of the jungle? Why not an eagle? Why not a mighty warrior on a white horse from Revelation? We want to hear about the one with eyes like a flame of fire and with the armies of heaven following him. We want to hear about the sword that comes from his mouth and strikes the nations. I prefer to tell you a story of victory and conquest. I even want to say that the hen is victorious over the fox. In the end it is true, but first he has to die.

The well-known preacher Barbara Brown Taylor says, "Jesus won't be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first." Jesus came to be a suffering servant and live a life of self-sacrifice. And he calls us to that life as well.

It was interesting to watch a young mother mallard take care of all seven of her ducklings. When anyone approached the lake, she became immediately aware and would gather her little brood together and hustle them along to hide in the reeds and brush that surrounded the edge of the lake. Once, someone went really close to get a better look, and she flew away. It might surprise you at first that a mother was abandoning her young. But then it became obvious what she was up to: She was offering herself as a decoy. She wanted the intruders to notice and follow her, away form her ducklings. She was willing to sacrifice herself in order to protect her offspring.

Now maybe we can understand the lament and the passion in Jesus' own voice. It is the cry of a mother who is worried to death about not only Jerusalem, but about all of us. Like a mother, Jesus sees far more clearly than do we, the children, the danger we are in. Like a mother, Jesus knows we tend to over-estimate our powers and are prone to go off on our own, leaving the protective wings, to seek our own excitement and adventure. And like a mother, Jesus chases after us.

Do you see the image? Like a mother, Jesus' love is so great that his all-consuming passion is to sweep us up into his protective arms. And although there are others in pursuit of him, namely Herod, Jesus, like a mother is persistent. He sticks to what his love compels him to do. He pursues his flock with a passion. His answer to Herod shows that: He has a little work to do in Galilee yet, a few chicks to sweep beneath his wings; and then, he is headed to Jerusalem, where he will, in essence, fly off from his chicks alone and draw God's judgment to him so that the jaws of death might sink their teeth into his flesh only, and not into his children whom he loves with a mother-hen's protective passion.

What would you do if someone gave you one million dollars and then told you to come back as often as you liked and you could have whatever money you needed whenever you wanted?  Just ask and it is yours.  What if he told you to tell all your friends and they could also come and have a million dollars?  Do you think you would tell your friends?  Do you think you would show up regularly to receive more from this very wealthy and very generous person?

What would you think if you told your friends and they had you arrested?  What would you think if people said you were an idiot for getting money from this generous person?  What if people killed you for telling them about this person who was giving away free money?  Would you expect people to accuse you of being narrow minded when you told people that they couldn't get free money from any other person?  Would you expect people to say things like, "You know if we get our money every week, we won't really appreciate it?" Would you expect people to hunt down this very wealthy, very generous person and kill him?

Welcome to the world of the prophet.  If you were to take these examples and replace the money with forgiveness, you would exactly describe the insanity that faces the prophet, the apostle, and all the messengers of God.  God wants to cover us in His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation and for some reason, that makes people angry.

In Mission, British Columbia, a fellow by the name of Ike tells the story about his Grandpa's hen house which burned to the ground one day. Ike arrived just in time to help put out the last of the fire. As he and his grandfather sorted through the wreckage, they came upon one hen lying dead near what had been the door of the hen house. Her top feathers were singed brown by the fire's heat, her neck limp. Ike bent down to pick up the dead hen. As he did the hen's four chicks came scurrying out from beneath her burnt body. The chicks survived because they were insulated by the shelter of the hen's wings.

There's a Peanuts cartoon that I've kept for years that I think speaks to this text.

In the first frame, Lucy is standing next to a tree. Looking up, she shouts to Linus, "What are you doing in that tree?"

Linus answers from the branches of the tree, "Looking for something." Then he adds, "Can you see Snoopy? We climbed up here together, but now I don't see him."

Lucy unsympathetically shouts back up the tree, "Beagles can't climb trees." The next frame shows Snoopy falling out of the tree right on his head with a loud "klunk." "You're right!" Snoopy concludes.

Then Lucy lets Snoopy have it, "You stupid Beagle, what are you doing climbing around in a tree?" Snoopy's sore head is still spinning.

Linus interrupts from the tree, "Don't yell at him.... We're trying to find a strange creature in a nest...."

Lucy walks off saying, "You're both crazy! Go ahead and knock yourselves out! I couldn't care less!!"

Then Snoopy with his head still sore and spinning things, "Rats...I was hoping for a hug!"

When we've been stupid and we have hurt ourselves we generally like to be hugged. Children know this; snoopy knew it; but we adults sometimes get it wrong. We don't like to admit our faults. God help us if there are a lot of Lucy's around. Jesus looks out over the city of Jerusalem, badly in need of divine comfort. In their stupidity they have killed the Prophets and stoned the messengers of God. They need to experience God's forgiveness but they are doing it again. Jesus has come with a word of grace and they will not listen. As a result the house of Israel will be left desolate.

Everything was almost ready for Holy Baptism. The water was poured, the oil for anointing was prepared. The baby was very quiet, being held by the parents. But as the baptismal candle was lighted, the 3-year-old brother was heard to exclaim: "Uh-oh! That's gonna hurt!"

Listen to these great hymns that were sung during Jesus’ day in the Synagogues and Temple worship in Jerusalem.

• Hide me in the shadow of thy wings. 17:8.
• In the shadow of thy wings I will take refuge till the storms of destruction pass by. 57:1
• Oh to be safe under the shelter of thy wings. 61:4
• In the shadow of thy wings I sing for joy. 63:7
• Under his wings you will find refuge. 91:4

How do we know these songs were sung? They are the songs found in the book Psalms. Psalm 17, 36, 57, 61, 63, and 91 speak of the protective wings of God. So when Jesus expressed his desire to comfort Jerusalem he used an image widely understood, “I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gather’s her chicks under her wings.” But Jesus’ desires go unfulfilled for Jerusalem was “unwilling,” Jesus said, to receive the shelter he offered.

But let us not miss a significant point being advanced here: In the Psalms it is Yahweh who longs to gather Israel under his protective wings. Here in the Gospel of Luke it is Jesus. An equation is being drawn. Jesus equals God. How very sad then that Israel refused.

Robert Fulton, an artist and engineer was responsible in the early 1800's for putting sailing ships out of business. He made the steamboat a standard on the open seas. It is said that he presented his idea to Napoleon. After a few minutes of this presentation Napoleon is reported to have said, "What, sir, you would make a ship sail against the wind and currents by lighting a bonfire under her decks? I pray you excuse me. I have no time to listen to such nonsense."

Have you ever seen a chicken hawk go after it's prey? The old mother hen is often aware of the presence of the hawk in time to gather her chicks under her wing. With a furious fuss she squawks till her brood is safe by her side. She fluffs out her wings and protects them with her own body. The chicken hawk dives and the old hen turns her body toward him and cocks a wary eye without moving from her children. The predator comes in again for the kill and the mother spreads her wings even wider. A third time he dives only to be thwarted by the determined self-sacrifice of the mother hen. She is too big to be a target and the chicks are too safe to be seized so he flies away.

Perhaps we need Santa at Christmas to help us be merry and joyous because we have a flawed understanding of Jesus. From today's gospel text we learn that the first reaction to Jesus' presence on earth, of God-in-our-midst, was joy. Joy so tremendous, joy so utterly overwhelming that it must somehow escape the bounds of earth itself and jump towards the heavens.

In John Ortberg's wonderful book The Life You've Always Wanted (Zondervan,2002), he writes: We will not understand God until we understand this about him: "God is the happiest being in the universe" (G. K. Chesterton). Yes, God knows sorrow. Jesus is remembered, among other things, as a 'man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.' But the sorrow of God, like the anger of God, is his temporary response to a fallen world. That sorrow will be banished forever from his heart on the day the world is set right. Joy is God's basic character. God is the happiest being in the universe.

Joy is what makes Christmas. Each of us may look to some annual family tradition to trigger that joy. But the trees, the carols, the cookies, the presents, the parties, are only various expressions of a single experience of the spirit JOY born again into our souls.

Hebrews 11:32 - "And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephtah, of David and Samuel and the prophets -"

"Prophet" is the Greek word used in the Greek Old Testament to translate a Hebrew word whose meaning is obscure; the Greek meant a person who spoke or interpreted oracles, and therefore was not speaking his own thoughts, but those of a god. Although the word in essence means "forth-telling," not "fore-telling," still part of the Greek word means "before," and since they considered prophecies and prophetic utterances to deal with future events and foreknowledge, it was not difficult for them to take the next step and consider that the prophetic message was a predictive one. They also felt that a prophet must necessarily speak while in an ecstatic state, so that the god might speak through him. It was this idea of the prophet as giving ecstatic predictions that has colored and misinterpreted our understanding through the centuries.

While it is true, as stated above, that the meaning of the Hebrew word is obscure, the most generally accepted scholarly opinion is that it merely meant "to announce;" but this announcement was on divine order, and so, finally, the prophet was one "who utters a God-given message." This could be, and often was, a prediction of future events, usually a warning of doom if conditions were not improved, but it did not have to be such a message. Whatever it involved, it came directly from God, and it is for this that we remember the prophets - as spokesmen for God.

In this way, we can see that the prophet differs from the priest. While both were communicators, they were on opposite sides of the fence, so to speak - the priest carried the words and petitions of the people to God, while the prophet carried God’s messages to the people.

We have a wide range of individuals in the ranks of the prophets - from the early ecstatics to the sophiscated such as Isaiah; from those who acted out their prophecies to those who were almost fantastically visionary; from those who were specifically ethical to those who were seemingly objective. All of which tells us that God never goes by any man’s rules - he chooses the best and most effective medium at any one time. And certainly the disparity of the prophets is proof of that.

Prophecy, as such, had long disappeared by New Testament times, although we find the use of the term in connection with New Testament men (and women, too). But in the New Testament, it refers to preachers and evangelists; they were Christian teachers to whom the Spirit, at times, made special direct communication and who interpreted God’s will to man.

Today, of course, the pastor or preacher or minister of a congregation fulfills the role of the prophet. In fact, this is one of the specific elements within the call to preach.

1 Chronicles 22:2 - "David commanded to gather together the aliens who were in the land of Israel, and he set stonecutters to prepare dressed stones for building the house of God."

As we know, the Hebrews, in their early history, were a nomadic people, and, as such, they needed homes which were readily portable as they moved from one grazing ground to another. However, as they settled into a more agricultural existence, their habits and modes of living changed. They soon discovered that the tents which they had formerly occupied, and even those houses of clay which they had built when they settled in Canaan, were vulnerable to attack by robbers and enemies.

So, they looked around for more permanent and satisfactory building materials. Canaan is a very stony land, and sandstone in particular is common there. It was, then, a natural development that they should start making homes of stone. Thus, the art of stonecutting and masonry was introduced.

Naturally, if stone was so good for the homes of the people, it had to be the material that was used for the house of God. After all, God required the finest efforts of his people, and their best achievements. So, as our text tells us, David started his project with orders to round up all the craftsmen that would be needed - among them stonecutters.

If we read the accounts of the construction of the Temple, as recorded in the first book of Kings, we find that the foundation consisted of great hewn stones, and that the superstructure was also of stone. The repairs made later by Jehoash and Josiah included hewn stones, and they are also mentioned in connection with the materials used for the second temple.

1 Kings 5:15 tells us that Solomon gathered together 80,000 stonecutters to provide these stones for the Temple. And Josephus says that the traditions of the Jews tell of stones in Solomon’s Temple that were 60 feet long! But there was more than just the Temple in Solomon’s Jerusalem. We know of the many building projects that he initiated. For example, we are told that his palace, and the house built for the Pharaoh’s daughter, were made of costly stones.

We may today see examples of Israelite stone work in the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem. A stone from the old city walls is fourteen feet long and 3 and 3/4 feet square. And, to further show how wide-spread the use of stone was in ancient times, there are remains of quarries in many places of the Holy Land.

Today, of course, we see deep gouges in many places in our land, where stone is quarried. The present day quarry worker is very similar to his ancient brothers. And in more than one respect - one of the first known labor strikes was conducted by stonecutters (in 600 B.C.) who were working on a Temple building project! And why? Because they hadn’t been paid for several months! Apparently the men of the past had more in common with men of our century than we would have expected!

When we think of modern day builders laying a corner stone, it is generally a small concrete box that contains current newspapers and other documents for future generations to break open and read about what took place during the era of construction. But not so during this period of time. The corner stone was the key to the rest of the structure. The appropriate stone in size and shape would be placed strategically so that the rest of the building might take its alignment and form based on the corner stone. The Maison Carre in Nimes, France, a 2000-year old Roman temple was constructed of huge stones. Pivotal among them was the corner stone; one stone of precise measurements, condition, and shape upon which the rest of the building would stand and be formed.

With this metaphor, the biblical writers established that the kingdom God built would be founded upon Jesus Christ. Every detail in its dimensions, shape, size, and form relates directed to Christ. Without the corner stone the building has no value.

I love the story of a Christian missionary hiking the high Andean trails to a remote village in Peru. He found a rock along the road, a curious geode, and put it in his backpack as a souvenir. That evening he strode into the village to a very unfriendly welcome. No one offered him a bed. No one asked him to sit by their fire. He learned that a famine had plagued the Indians for over a month. And the people were starving. Each was simply afraid to share amidst so much deprivation. 

Praying to Jesus how to help them, he got an idea. Calling the Indians around a campfire he preached God's loving care in Christ. Then he said, "I'm going to feed you by making some stone soup. Yummm! It's tasty! I grew up on it! And you'll like it just fine!" Then he opened his backpack and produced the rock he'd found that morning. 

The Indians scoffed, "Stone soup! Why that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" 

"Trust me," the missionary assured them. "See! I've brought the stone. But I'm going to need a pot to put it in." An Indian woman quickly volunteered her pot. 

"And I'll need about two large buckets of water to boil the stone in." A man, shaking his head, brought the water. So, in went the stone, in went the water, and over the fire the pot was suspended. Curious now, the villagers began to gather around the pot, peering into its contents. The missionary began to stir the pot and drool. "You know, stone soup sure is good with carrots!" To which an Indian said, "I've got six carrots!" He quickly fetched them and they were cut up into the pot. Then the missionary smelled deeply of the bubbly broth and sighed, "Some potatoes sure would add to the flavor." From pockets and other hiding places came dozens of spuds. They were quickly added to the soup. Soon people were bringing onions, celery, and bits of meat to top off the pot of stone soup. And within the hour a community was formed around that stew pot. All ate. And all were filled and they heard the story of Jesus Christ. 

Do you remember the Legend of the Touchstone? It's a great story to recall on Easter Sunday morning. According to that ancient legend, if you could find the touchstone on the coast of the Black Sea and hold it in your hand, everything you touched would turn to gold. You could recognize the touchstone by its warmth. The other stones would feel cold, but when you picked up the touchstone, it would turn warm in your hand.

Once a man sold everything he had and went to the coast of the Black Sea in search of the touchstone. He began immediately to walk along the shoreline picking up one stone after another in his diligent and intentional search for the touchstone. He was consumed with this dream. He wanted desperately to find this miraculous stone. However, after several days had passed, he suddenly realized that he was picking up the same stones again and again. So he devised a plan... pick up a stone; if it's cold, throw it into the sea. This he did for weeks and weeks.

Then one morning he went out to continue his search for the touchstone. He picked up a stone; it was cold... he threw it into the sea. He picked up another stone - cold! He threw it into the sea. He picked up another stone... it turned warm in his hand, and before he realized what he was doing... he threw it into the sea!

That's a good parable for Easter, isn't it? Because that can so easily happen to us. We can come upon a miraculous moment like Easter... we can feel it turn warm in our hands... but then (so dulled by the routine) before we realize what we are doing... we throw it away. Absentmindedly, mechanically, nonchalantly... we toss it aside and miss the miracle of Easter.

In Greek mythology, Hades, the god of the Underworld, the god of the Dead, is the most hated of all the immortals, because he is the only god who never answers prayer. Never. The exception that proves the rule is the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus was the greatest of mortal musicians. When his beloved wife, Eurydice, died, he simply could not accept the finality of that loss. So he took his harp and journeyed to the Underworld. There he played so beautifully, sang so poignantly of mortal sorrow, that tears of molten iron ran down the implacable face of Hades, and for the only time ever recorded, he relented. Eurydice would be permitted to follow Orpheus back into the world of the living, the world of the sun. But he must not look behind him until they had both safely emerged from the darkness of Hades' realm back into the sunlight.

So imagine what he is feeling as he begins the long walk through the tunnel. He sees the small point of light at the end, and he begins to hear faint footsteps, growing ever more solid, as Eurydice begins to resume physical form. How he wants to look and see her again, to verify that it is her footsteps that he hears! But he dare not. And now they have almost emerged. One more step and the quest will be achieved life snatched back from the grave! But at that moment she stumbles against a stone and cries out, and by instinct, without thinking, he turns to catch her and keep her from falling. But he has broken the ban, he has violated the requirement, he has transgressed the taboo. And so he turns only to see her for one intolerably heartbreaking moment reaching for him as she evaporates and fades back into the mist, forever lost in the darkness.

Hades is the only god who never answers prayer. And that is the hardest thing about Death to accept: that impenetrable stone wall suddenly erected across your path, that steel door slammed in your face. No matter how important and essential the deceased was to your life, you aren't getting him back. That is what makes it the great and final Enemy. The Apsotle Paul says, "The last enemy to be defeated is death" (1 Cor. 15:26). We live with that promise because Jesus overcame death!

But before the resurrection, it's no wonder the people were filled with terror and awe when the dead man sat up and began to speak.

There is an ancient legend about the monk who found a precious stone, a precious jewel. A short time later, the monk met a traveler, who said he was hungry and asked the monk if he would share some of his provisions. When the monk opened his bag, the traveler saw the precious stone and, on an impulse, asked the monk if he could have it. Amazingly, the monk gave the traveler the stone.

The traveler departed quickly overjoyed with his new possession. However, a few days later, he came back, searching for the monk. He returned the stone to the monk and made a request: "Please give me that which enabled you to give me this precious stone!"

A commitment of the whole heart, that's what heaven, the Kingdom of Heaven requires of its followers. I love this last parable because Jesus does not say the Kingdom of Heaven is like a pearl of great price. He says the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant, a merchant who finds a great deal on a flawless stone and does everything in his power to close the sale. That's commitment to a greater cause. That's sacrifice and hard work. That's what heaven is like. Amen.

A man named Coulson Kernahan once related a remarkable dream-allegory called “The Man of No Sorrows.”

A prophet from the orient arrived in London and announced that he was the savior of the world. What made him stand out was his proclamation that sorrow and pain have no place in the universe. He declared that human society will never be saved until sorrow is discredited.

The people eagerly accepted this teaching, as you might imagine, and tears and sorrow were banished from human society.

It was to be his first trip back to China. He was born in China to missionary parents in the 1930s. When his parents had to flee China and return to the States because of the Second World War, however, Tom Stone came with them. And he had never been back; never seen the land of his birth -- until his journey in the 1990s. As the plane landed in Beijing his heart began to pound. What would it be like? Would he remember anything? What would he discover about himself in this land of his birth?

Tom Stone took in China like a breath of fresh air. He loved so very much of what it was. The Great Wall. China's bustling cities. The gentle people. The vast landscape. Wonderful! Breathtaking! Exciting! How good it was to be home again. He found China much to his liking except for one thing -- one thing that he had not expected to find. He thought the great Chairman Mao Tse-tung was dead and gone. Not so. It seemed like he ran into the image of the Chairman at every turn.

Tom knew that Chairman Mao had written The Little Red Book as a kind of "bible" of his thoughts. Tom assumed that The Little Red Book was a thing of the past, tucked away with memories of the Chairman. But it was not so. The Little Red Book was for sale everywhere. The Chairman's "bible" functioned like the "bible" for many Chinese people.

If it wasn't The Little Red Book that reminded Tom Stone of the Chairman there were plenty of other reminders. Aluminum buttons with Mao's picture on it were abundantly evident. He saw them everywhere on people's clothing. People wore them proudly as a way to venerate their great ancestor. "Was this just nostalgia?" Tom wondered, "or are these people looking to Mao as a kind of god?"

Once he had become aware of the presence of Mao, Tom Stone found him everywhere. Posters and portraits of the Chairman were omnipresent. "Why do you hang his picture like that?" Tom asked one day. "Mao's picture helps to ward off evil spirits," he was told. Elsewhere Tom saw a woman trudging up the streets caressing a tiny bronze statue of Mao. "Mao made us proud of China," the woman said to Tom. "Our leaders now dishonor his name."

Tom Stone had discovered that for millions and millions of Chinese citizens Mao Tse-tung still lives and is believed to exercise supernatural powers on behalf of his people. Perhaps the greatest sign of all this was the way in which Mao had become the "St. Christopher" of China. Nearly every taxi he entered and every truck that he saw carrying goods for the life blood of modern day China, prominently displayed a portrait of Chairman Mao. His face dangled from rear view mirrors or was plastered on the dash board of their vehicles. Mao Tse-tung was, indeed, respected and venerated as a godlike man.

Tom Stone had read much on China. He had read much on Mao Tse-tung. He knew that Chairman Mao sought to portray himself to his people as one larger than life. Mao was a man who was sorely tempted to reach for the stars. He was a mortal who reached for immortality. He was a man who would be god. Millions of Chinese people today firmly believe that Mao was, indeed, a man who would be god."

Death is no respecter of persons, or families. There is an Eastern legend about a Hindu woman whose only child had died. She went to a prophet to ask for her child back. The prophet told her to go and obtain a handful of rice from a house into which death had not come. If she could obtain the rice in this way, he promised to give her the child back. From door to door she asked the question, "Are you all here around the table fathers, mothers, children...none missing?" But always the answer came back that there were empty chairs in each house. As she continued on, her grief and sorrow softened as she found that death had visited all families. Yes, death is universal; our painful experience is not the only one of its kind. Because God is faithful, because Jesus Christ is alive, so is your loved one and mine.

1 Samuel 9:9 - "Formerly in Israel, when a man went to inquire of God, he said, ‘Come let us go to the seer’; for he who is now called a prophet was formerly called a seer."

It is presumed (especially when reading our text), that the office of the seer antedated the office of prophet in Israel, although the functions of each were the same. Our text is probably a gloss on the original text, added at a later date by someone who realized that Samuel was not a member of a roving band of ecstatics, such as the early prophets (see PROPHET), but that he was a solitary man in close communication with God, who spoke the messages of God.

The office of the prophet, as we generally think of it, did not clearly emerge until the tenth century B.C. at the earliest, but it is obvious that there were, at all times, men who were tuned in on God’s wave length, if we may say so, and who were commissioned to present God’s messages to the people. It is quite possible that the office of seer was lifted from the Canaanites, and then made into a distinctively Israelite profession through a process of refinement.

We do have specific instances of the non-Hebrew seer, who was actually a messenger of Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews. For example, in Numbers 22 to 24, we have the story of Balaam, a seer who was employed by the king of Moab at the time of the Israelites’ wanderings, but who actually became a spokesman for God.

However, there is one thing that we must remember - the earlier the time with which we are dealing, the more primitive the concepts, so it should be no surprise to us that the seers were often dabblers in fortune-telling and became involved with the baser forms of divination, such as wizardry, necromancy, and such practices which has been expressly forbidden. But there is a mysterious fascination about things, and the temptation was great. So we find that there were degenerate seers also in Israel.

I suppose that if we wish to make a more specific differentiation between seer and prophet, we might be justified in saying that the seer made his powers his profession and livelihood, and his functioning was habitually passive: he waited to be consulted. The great prophets, on the other hand, were men of all walks of life who were literally "plucked out of their ways of life" by God, and were driven to deliver God’s messages to his people.

Today I don’t suppose we have a profession or calling that parallels that of the seer, although we might not be too far off base if we compare him to the modern-day fortune-teller, who makes his living off the credibility of others, and who, in more cases than not, will predict what he knows the client wants to hear, rather than jeopardize that living.

The story is told of a fourth wise man who had followed the Star announcing the birth of Jesus. He, too, went to Bethlehem with a gift for the Savior. His gift was that of precious jewels to give to Jesus.

On his way to Bethlehem he found a man who had been beaten and robbed by thieves and left to die. The wise man took the injured man to an inn and paid for his care with one of the jewels that had been meant for Jesus.

When he finally arrived in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph had fled to Egypt with Jesus. He found that Herod and his soldiers were killing children and that Mary and Joseph had escaped with Jesus. The wise man saw a soldier preparing to kill one of the children of Bethlehem and so he bribed him with another jewel to save the child's life. The mother's tears of gratitude was all he needed to hear.

The wise man went on to Egypt in pursuit of Jesus and his parents. However, while in Egypt the wise man became ill and a kind but poor woman nursed him back to health. On one occasion he found this woman crying and soon discovered why. Her son had been forced to join the army and now this woman was very distraught. The wise man was so grateful to this woman for all she had done that he used his last jewel and bought her son out of the army. Now he had nothing to offer Jesus.

Thirty years had passed and many other journeys, until the man thought that he should return to his home town. On his journey home, as he was passing through Jerusalem there was a large crowd. It was the day that Jesus was to be crucified. Upon learning this he stood with the crowd hoping that he still might see Jesus.

As he stood waiting to see Jesus, a tile from a nearby roof fell and landed on the wise man's head and killed him. Some might argue that his life was a failure because he never brought his gifts to Jesus. Yet, because he believed in Jesus as God's anointed, he was transported to heaven. There in heaven he finally saw Jesus. Jesus was on his throne and wearing a crown. The wise man could barely believe his eyes when he saw the crown of Jesus. In the center of the crown were the three jewels he had given to help others.

Jesus said, "When we do it to the least of these, you do it unto me."

Adapted by Stuart Robertson, Balanced Burdens (London: Hodder and Stoughton, Limited), p. 142.

Jesus quoted the words of the Psalmist: "The very stone which the builders rejected has become the head of the corner..." (Ps. 118:22) Later Simon Peter would quote these words to the rulers and the elders in testimony concerning the good news of Christ. (Acts 4:11) Later he would cite those words again in his epistles. (I Pet. 2:7)

There was a legend that was well known in New Testament times that in the building of the temple of Solomon most of the stones were of the same size and shape. One stone arrived, however, that was different from the others. The builders took one look at it and said, "This will not do," and sent it rolling down into the valley of Kedron below. The years passed and the great temple was nearing completion, and the builders sent a message to the stonecutters to send the chief cornerstone that the structure might be complete. The cutters replied that they had sent the stone years before. Then someone remembered the stone that was different than all the rest that somehow did not seem to belong. They realized that they had thrown away the cornerstone. They hurried into the valley to retrieve it. Finally under vines and debris they recovered it and with great effort rolled it up the hill and put it in place so that the great temple would be complete. The stone that had been rejected had become the chief cornerstone. Jesus, who had been rejected now reigns at the right hand of the Father. From rejection to rejoicing.

A guide at Blarney Castle in Ireland was explaining to some visitors that his job was not always as pleasant as it seemed. He told them about a group of disgruntled tourists he had taken to the castle earlier in the week.

"These people were complaining about everything," he said. "They didn't like the weather, the food, their hotel accommodations, the prices, everything. Then to top it off, when we arrived at the castle, we found that the area around the Blarney Stone was roped off. Workmen were making some kind of repairs." "This is the last straw!" exclaimed one lady who seemed to be the chief faultfinder in the group. "I've come all this way, and now I can't even kiss the Blarney Stone."

"Well, you know," the guide said, "according to legend, if you kiss someone who has kissed the stone, it's the same as kissing the stone itself." "And I suppose you've kissed the stone," said the exasperated lady. "Better than that." replied the guide. "I've sat on it."

"Shunem: Site of the Prophet Elisha's Resurrection Miracle." If they had had road signs in the days of old this might have been the sign that welcomed you to Shunem. All the people of Shunem and all the people in the cities around Shunem surely knew of Elisha's miraculous feat. This was an area known for its prophets!

Elisha's prophetic forerunner, Elijah, was the first prophet to raise a young man to life. It happened in Zarephath (1 Kings 17:8-24). Perhaps it is not surprising that Elisha also raised a young man to life. We are told, after all, that Elisha inherited a double share of Elijah's spirit!

In a story told in 2 Kings 4 we hear that Elijah came to Shunem one day and had a bite to eat at the home of a wealthy woman. Since there were no fast food restaurants in Elisha's day, he stopped quite often at the house of the Shunammite woman to get something to eat. The woman sensed that Elisha was a holy one of God. So she persuaded her husband to fix up a permanent guest room for Elisha. She invited Elisha to stop and stay with them whenever he passed through Shunem. And he did. Free room and board is a pretty good deal, after all!

Now Elisha was an honorable man. He thought he should really give this woman some kind of gift. He told his servant Gehazi to ask the Shunammite woman what gift he might give to her. Gehazi went. He discovered that the woman was quite content with what she had. She asked for nothing. "But there must be something we can give this woman," Elisha insisted to Gehazi. Then Gehazi had a wonderful idea. "This woman has no child and her husband is old," he said to Elisha. Elisha got the point. He announced to the woman of Shunem that, "At this season, when the time comes round, you shall embrace a son" (2 Kings 4:16). And it came to pass just as Elisha had promised. One day years later, the son of the woman of Shunem went out among the reapers to be with his father. Suddenly he began to complain bitterly. "Oh, my head, my head!" he shrieked.

"Carry the lad to his mother," the father ordered. The reapers did so. The boy lay on his mother's lap until noon, and then he died. The Shunammite woman carried her son straightway to Elisha's guest room and laid him on Elisha's very own bed. She then set out to Mt. Carmel determined to find Elisha. When she found the prophet she fell before him and took hold of his feet. "Did I ask my Lord for a son?" she pleaded. "Did I not say, 'Do not mislead me'?" (2 Kings 4:28).

Elisha got the point. He returned to Shunem, went to his room where the dead boy lay, shut the door and began to pray. Elisha then stretched himself upon the boy and breathed his breath into him. Soon the child sneezed seven times and then opened his eyes. "Take your son," Elisha said to the woman of Shunem.

"Shunem: Site of the Prophet Elisha's Resurrection Miracle." Thus a sign at the city gate might have read. The city of Nain was just a stone's throw down the road from Shunem. The citizens of Nain undoubtedly basked in Shunem's glory. They, too, believed themselves to live in a land where prophets do miracles."

Listen for a moment, to the story of one of the most dramatic victories we Christians know anything about.

The night Jesus was born angels came to shepherds near Bethlehem, and one said, "I bring you good news of a great joy." That was a happy greeting.

But a deep, dark valley of sorrow lay between that salutation and the joy it promised. For the new-born Child, trials and sufferings began almost immediately. When he was just a baby a jealous king tried to kill him. When he grew up the people at Nazareth threw him out of their city. He became a wandering teacher - homeless, often hungry and weary, tempted and sorely tried. He was hated, accused, denied, betrayed. At last, there came a Friday when a wreath of thorns was pressed hard on his brow, and he was spat upon, scourged with whips, nailed to a cross, and by mid-afternoon he was dead. Before sundown, his body was placed in a tomb, lent for the purpose through the generosity of a kind-hearted man. The life whose beginning was heralded by the happy song of angels had been one long sequence of heartbreak and pain.

But the story does not end here. On the first Sunday following his burial, very early in the morning, Jesus met his friends walking in the garden outside the tomb, and his first word was this: "All hail!" - the Greek word "chairete," "Joy be to you!" "Be of good cheer!"

This greeting was a happy one, this greeting in the garden. Here, perhaps not more than an hour away from the tomb, Jesus picked up the theme of joy precisely where the angels had left it more than thirty years before. And here today, nearly 2,000 years later, let us echo that theme again: "Be of good cheer: we bring you good news of a great joy!"

Easter is a magnificent day! It is the most significant day of the entire year. It is a day of celebration ... the finest clothes, lilies trumpeting their beautiful fragrance, Christian fellowship, joyful greetings ... nothing can be too good. On Easter we celebrate new hope and the possibility of living life to its fullest. God is saying to us that his blessings and love are ours. Good and even great days are now possible for us with the best of days still to come in heaven.

What problems lurk in your life? Are you afraid of death? Are you afraid of life? Easter proclaims that you can be victorious over any problem that you might face. Victory can be yours by believing in Easter and by appropriating Easter into your daily life.

But what is Easter? Easter is power. The power of God released which raised a dead Son after he had been in the grave for three days. Many gravestones carry the inscription, "Here lies ...," but on Christ’s tomb are the words, "He is not here." In Joseph’s garden is history’s only empty grave. I believe Christ rose from the dead, and I believe the resurrection power of God is still being unleashed today.

God wants to resurrect us from whatever defeat is in our lives and then give us a victorious death. He wants to resurrect us from a life of loneliness and gloom into one of meaning and joy. He wants to resurrect us from a life deadened by fear to a life enlivened by confidence. He especially wants to resurrect us from our own personal death into his very own personal paradise.

So roll back the stone of any unbelief in your hearts, behold the glory of the empty tomb, and thrill to the power that can now be yours. Place your weak and trembling hand into his and say with Thomas, "My Lord and my God." Belief in Jesus and his resurrection is the key that delivers us from fear and sorrow. Jesus is the key to personal happiness, to peace, and to life everlasting. You can know this peace, you can know this joy, you can have this power, if today you will commit yourself to him, and then say with your whole heart, "I know that my Redeemer lives!"

Then Vice President George Bush represented the U.S. at the funeral of former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev. Bush was deeply moved by a silent protest carried out by Brezhnev's widow. She stood motionless by the coffin until seconds before it was closed. Then, just as the soldiers touched the lid, Brezhnev's wife performed an act of great courage and hope, a gesture that must surely rank as one of the most profound acts of civil disobedience ever committed: She reached down and made the sign of the cross on her husband's chest. There in the citadel of secular, atheistic power, the wife of the man who had run it all hoped that her husband was wrong. She hoped that there was another life, and that that life was best represented by Jesus who died on the cross, and that the same Jesus might yet have mercy on her husband.

Jesus went into the synagogue on the Sabbath and saw a man with a crippled hand. He knew that the Pharisees were watching to see what he would do, and he felt angry that they were only out to put him in the wrong. They did not care a scrap for the handicapped man, nor did they want to see the power and love of God brought to bear on him.

There were other instances where Jesus showed anger or sternness. He "sternly charged" the leper whom he had healed not to tell anyone about it (Mark 1:43) because he foresaw the problems of being pursued by a huge crowd of thoughtless people who were interested only in seeing miracles and not in his teaching. But the leper disobeyed and so made things very hard for Jesus.

Jesus showed anger again when the disciples tried to send away the mothers and their children (Mark 10:13-16). He was indignant and distressed at the way the disciples were thwarting his loving purposes and giving the impression that he did not have time for ordinary people.

He showed anger once more when he drove "out those who sold and those who bought in the temple" (Mark 11:15-17). God's house of prayer was being made into a den of thieves and God was not being glorified hence Jesus' angry words and deeds. Commenting on this, Warfield wrote: "A man who cannot be angry, cannot be merciful." The person who cannot be angry at things which thwart God's purposes and God's love toward people is living too far away from his fellow men ever to feel anything positive towards them.

Finally, at Lazarus' grave Jesus showed not just sympathy and deep distress for the mourners (John 11:33-35), but also a sense of angry outrage at the monstrosity of death in God's world. This is the meaning of "deeply moved" in John 11:38.

The first perversion of the doctrine of the second coming of Christ is perpetrated by those I'm going to call "prophecy mongers." You know these people. They come with their charts and graphs, with their predictions and projections, claiming to have special insight into the workings of God in the world, so that they're able to cue us in on just where we are in the divine timetable. And somehow, every political event of the past fifty years fits neatly into their scheme of things. But Jesus said that no one not even himself knew the day or the hour of his coming, but only the Father.

But there is another distortion of this doctrine that is equally vitiating although in comes from a completely different direction. Here I refer to those who, far from exaggerating the eschatology of Jesus, want to minimize it because they are embarrassed. They rationalize it or demythologize it or spiritualize it, so that they can embrace Jesus and his teachings without getting all the supernatural trimmings that go with it. The fundamentalist and the rationalist share a common assumption about the second coming. They both assume that this is teaching we can easily understand and exploit and have at our disposal, so that it no longer threatens us, no longer hangs over our heads like Damocles's word, ready to fall upon us and shatter our pretty pretensions into a thousand smithereens. The fundamentalist over explains the second coming, and so takes away its mystery, while the rationalist explains it away, robbing it of its meaning.

Jesus said, "Keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." It is here at the point of waiting that most of us have our greatest difficulty.

When Theodore Roosevelt was an Assembly man in the legislature of the state of New York, events developed in his personal life that would wound him deeply. On February 13, Roosevelt, seated on the floor of the Assembly, received a telegram informing him that his wife Alice had given birth to a baby girl late the night before. He received the congratulations of his colleagues but decided to finish work on legislative matters before leaving for home to be with his family.

Several hours later he received another telegram telling him that his wife was very ill and so too his mother. He immediately left for the train station. The train seemed to move very slowly down the Hudson Valley. Normally, the trip took five hours but during this journey it would be longer due to the heavy fog. All Roosevelt could do was to read the two telegrams over and over again. When he finally did arrive at the station, it was difficult to find his home because of the fog.

When he did find his home, he found that Alice, ill with Bright's disease, was semi-comatose and near death. Alice barely recognized him as he sat with her in his arms. Not only was his wife near death, but also his mother Mittie was dying with typhoid fever on the floor below. Theodore Roosevelt was informed that if he wanted to see his mother for the last time he had better do that now.

Finally, at three in the morning, Mittie died and Theodore went back upstairs to be with Alice. As morning came, the fog became even worse and then by mid-morning there was rain, which was eventually followed by a brief appearance of the sun. When the morning passed over into the afternoon, Alice died. It was February 14, 1884, and Roosevelt wrote in his diary: "The light was gone out of my life." Two days after Alice's death, he wrote in his diary: "For joy or sorrow, my life has now been lived out."

Imagine, Theodore Roosevelt believed that his life was virtually over. He saw very little reason to go on with life. Yet this is the same man who would go on to be the President of the United States. As President, he would develop our national park system, develop laws against abusive child labor and laws to regulate the nation's food supply, develop the Panama Canal, and will always be remembered for the immortal words "speak softly and carry a big stick." Obviously, his life was not over when his mother and wife died. Even at the marriage feast in Cana in Galilee, Jesus proved that God can do far more than we can ever anticipate. When we think that all hope is lost, God is still in the miracle business.

Lord, I’ve never moved a mountain and I guess I never will.
All the faith that I could muster wouldn’t move a small ant hill.
Yet I’ll tell you, Lord, I’m grateful for the joy of knowing Thee,
and for all the mountain moving down through life You’ve done for me.

When I needed some help you lifted me from the depths of great despair.
And when burdens, pain and sorrow have been more than I can bear,
you have always been my courage to restore life’s troubled sea,
and to move these little mountains that have looked so big to me.

Many times when I’ve had problems and when bills I’ve had to pay,
and the worries and the heartaches just kept mounting every day,
Lord, I don’t know how you did it. Can’t explain the where’s or why’s.
All I know, I’ve seen these mountains turn to blessings in disguise.

No, I’ve never moved a mountain, for my faith is far too small.
Yet, I thank you, Lord of Heaven, you have always heard my call.
And as long as there are mountains in my life, I’ll have no fear,
for the mountain-moving Jesus is my strength and always near.

There is a powerful scene in the movie, The Godfather, where Don Corleone, is forced to visit the distinguished Cardinal Lamberto to tell him the bad news that a legitimate business deal involving the Vatican Bank has gone bad. The bank is run by the Archbishop and a coalition of Catholic businessmen. The Cardinal listens to the Godfather; then the Cardinal says something quite profound. He picks up a stone and says, "Look at this stone. It has been lying in the water for a very long time. The water has not penetrated it." Then he smashes the stone. "Look," he says peering at the smashed insides of the stone, "perfectly dry. The same thing," the Cardinal continues, "has happened to men in Europe. They have been surrounded by Christianity for centuries, but Christ does not live in their hearts."

This is what happened in the Temple in Jesus' time. There were people there who had been surrounded by the Temple for years, but the God of the Temple had not been allowed to enter their lives nor penetrate their hearts. As St. Paul once put it, "They had the form of godliness, but not the real thing." The hardest hearts in this world are not among the ungodly, but among the Godly.

Life seems to be so constituted that it's our nature to need one another, to walk together with one another. This is seen in the way we band together as families and as friends, in the way we turn to one another in times of sorrow or joy, in the way we celebrate life's high moments and share the experiences which are meaningful to us.

And, if we are Christian, the fellowship of being together has dimensions of meaning never found anywhere else. Long ago, Jesus said, "Come to me." And, believing in him, people came. But this isn't all they did: as we are told in Acts 2:44, "They who believed were together ..." Not only did they come to him, they also got together with one another. They were mutually encouraged by the faith of one another and drew strength from the fellowship they shared.

Paul wrote to one of the churches: "I thank God whenever I think of you, and when I pray for you, my prayers are always joyful, because of your good fellowship in the gospel of Christ from the first day until now."

My dear friends, if we are at all sincere about this business of Christian living, there is no way to describe the values there are for us in being together - in fellowship, in shared experience, and in the adoration and worship of God.

G. K. Chesterton, the noted British poet and theologian, was a brilliant man who could think deep thoughts and express them well. However, he was also extremely absent-minded and over the years he became rather notorious for getting lost. He would just absolutely forget where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to be doing. On one such occasion, he sent a telegram to his wife which carried these words: "Honey, seems I'm lost again. Presently, I am at Market Harborough. Where ought I to be?" As only a spouse could say it, she telegraphed back a one-word reply "HOME!"

This is precisely what this classic passage in the first chapter of Matthew does for us... it brings us home...

Home to the real meaning of Christmas

Home to the most magnificent truth in the entire Bible

Home to our Lord's greatest promise

Home to the reason we celebrate Christmas

Namely this: "GOD IS WITH US!" When we accept Christ into our lives, nothing, not even death, can separate us from God and His love. It is what Christmas is about. God is with us. The great people of faith have always claimed that promise. Just think of it:

Moses caught between the Pharaoh and the deep Red Sea in a seemingly hopeless situation believed that God was with him and he went forward and trusted God to open a way and He did!

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace into a seemingly hopeless situation and they trusted God to be with them and He was!

Little David stood before Goliath. What chance could a small boy with a slingshot have against this giant of a warrior? But David believed that God was with him and it made all the difference!

Now, it's interesting to note that when the writer of Matthew's gospel wanted to capture the meaning of Christmas, the meaning of the Christ event, the meaning of Jesus in a single word, he did a very wise thing. He reached back into the Old Testament, pulled out an old word, dusted it off, and used it to convey the message. The word was Emmanuel. That's what Jesus is about "His name shall be called Emmanuel" which means, "God is with us."

The impact of that Christmas promise is incredible. When you believe that, when you accept that, when you claim that promise it will absolutely change your life. Let me show you what I mean by bringing this closer to home. Let me underscore three ideas relating to this great promise of God's presence. I'm sure you will think of others, but for now please consider these. We can claim the great Christmas promise God with us...

1. When We Are Frightened.
2. When We Are Lonely.
3. When We Are in Sorrow.

Sam Duncan lay in the semi-darkness of his nursing home room performing the only two activities of which he still considered himself capable: watching and waiting. Although his eyesight was dim, he could still make out the steady brightening of the light of dawn through the window next to his bed. And although his hearing was too far gone to catch the rumble of the medicine cart, as it worked its way up the hall toward his room, he could sense that the time for his morning pills was near. He waited for the nurse to push open the door and greet him and his roommate Arthur, who was still snoring loudly in the bed next to his.

Most of the accepted measures of quality of human existence no longer affected Sam. While time, in terms of years, seemed to slip away unnoticed, the hours of the day crept by in agonizing slowness. Time no longer meant anything to him. Schedules all belonged to the nurses and aides and family members who waited on him. He himself had no claim to time. The staff dieticians and cooks decided what he would eat, and when. The aides assigned to care for him on any given day decided when he would be bathed, dressed, shaved, and even toileted. His family decided what clothes he needed, what treats to bring to him, and when he should go out. The activity director decided when he needed exercise, stimulation and entertainment, and he was delivered into her hands by the aides upon request.

There were few days when Sam could tell you what had occurred the day before, or even the hour before. He had little memory for what he had eaten for dinner Tuesday or breakfast Saturday. He seldom knew the day of the week or the correct month, although seasons were still instinctively evident. The minutia of every day had ceased to have meaning for him even before his nursing home days had begun ten years earlier, and he felt no concern or remorse over loss of interest in such trivia. But if you asked him if he remembered Pearl Harbor, or the day Franklin Roosevelt died, or what he was doing the day JFK was assassinated, he could tell you with detailed clarity what had gone on. He recalled vividly his wedding day, the day he and Martha buried their firstborn infant son, the details of the funeral of his grandson Sam who was killed in Vietnam, and what the weather was like on the day Martha died.

Sam also remembered the friends who had been most dear to him. They had all been gone for many years: Boots Martin, who had served with him in Germany in WW I; Alvy Hankins, who had gone to school with him and farmed outside of town; Dick Travis, who had been his business partner for nearly forty years ... all dead and buried long ago. It hadn't seemed unnatural that he had outlived them all, just part of life. But when he had outlived all of his children, the burden of life had become heavy, cumbersome. And now, at 102, it was nearly unbearable.

Sam had never been a complainer. Life was what it was. He didn't second-guess nature or the Creator. When he and Martha lost that first baby son, they had grieved and comforted one another, and eventually gone on with their lives. And God had blessed them with six healthy children who had survived well into old age. The death and destruction he had seen in the trenches during "the war to end all wars" was etched in his memory for all time, and yet he had survived it, both physically and emotionally. But when his grandson, young Samuel Wilks Duncan III, had been killed in Vietnam at the tender age of nineteen, it had taken much prayer and effort to overcome his sense of anger and grief. And when Martha died in 1989, at the ripe old age of ninety, and his own heart beat on strong and steady, even though he knew it was broken, he had shaken a mental fist at God and demanded to know why. Why must he be left to bear the burdens of life alone? At 93, why couldn't he go home, too?

That had been ten years ago. Ten years of slowly declining health, gradual loss of sight, hearing, movement and body function. Ten years of being taken here and there, regardless of his own wishes, by those whose job it was to provide him with comfort, stimulation, and quality of life. His grandchildren became so busy with their own lives that they seldom visited. And when his last surviving daughter had died of cancer last year at the age of 75, Sam couldn't help but wonder if God was allowing him to be put to the test, as he did Job. He felt very keenly the truth of Jesus' words in the Gospel of John:

... when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.

And so Sam had formed a mental list of Psalms from which to pray in all of his various moods:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul, and have sorrow in my heart all day long? -- Psalm 13:1-2

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? Oh my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.  -- Psalm 22:1-2

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff -- they comfort me. -- Psalm 23:4

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. -- Psalm 42:1

Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent. For my enemies speak concerning me, and those who watch for my life consult together. -- Psalm 71:9-10

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. -- Psalm 30:4-5

Joy comes with the morning ... Sam's litany came to an end as the nurse pushed through the door with the medications.

"Good morning, Sam. Wake up, Arthur! It's time for your pills. It's a special day, Sam. Do you remember what day it is?"

"I don't know. Tuesday, maybe?"

"No, Saturday. You're going to have a lot of company today. This is your birthday, Sam. Do you remember how old you are today."

"I guess I'd be about 103."

"That's right. One hundred and three years old. Everyone is coming for your birthday party today. All of your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and I've heard you even have a couple of great-great grandsons."

"I think they even named one of them after me."

"Well, April will be in in another hour or so to give you your breakfast and bath. When you're all dressed and ready, we'll take some pictures with all of your friends. Happy Birthday, Sam!"

One hundred and three. As he swallowed his pills, Sam's mind drifted back to the lighthearted days of his youth, when he and his friends used to say things like, "I'll never understand that if I live to be a hundred." Things don't really change, Sam thought. I've lived to be more than a hundred, and there are so many things I still don't understand. "Do not cast me off in the time of old age." "Weeping may linger with the night, but joy comes in the morning." Sam sighed and laid back to watch and wait.

Death clouds our hearts and minds; it makes us forget prior relationships. The disciples were full of sorrow because of Jesus' death. They had watched from a distance as his limp frame had been pulled down off the cross. Jesus had been pierced and life had oozed from his side; and along with his life their hopes poured out too. Jesus' death (and, likely, the disciples' own shame at having abandoned him) had sealed their faith and hope in the tomb. So when they saw Jesus again, they didn't have any hope with which to greet him only terror and superstition; they thought he was a ghost (v. 37). Fear and disbelief had seized their minds so that they forgot what Jesus had told them (v. 44). Not that they are the only ones who forget. We, too, forget.

Until Jesus Christ permeates every fiber of our being, we can never begin to appreciate the power and potentiality available in us. We continue to doubt whether we can do this or that or be what we want to be. Yet, God wants us to reach the heights of our created potential. God wants us to develop a faith that can handle both problems and opportunities. He desires that we capture his vision of our worth and our latent abilities.

Some time ago I saw the play Man of La Mancha. I believe it illustrates what I am saying. The man of La Mancha comes to a wayside inn. Here the camel drivers stop. He sees Aldonza, the waitress, there. She is also the local prostitute. Aldonza is dirty and smells from perspiration. "Ho, my lady. You will be my lady ... every knight needs a lady, and you will be my lady. And I will give you a new name, it will no longer be Aldonza but Dulcinea." She looks at him in amazement. "Me, your lady, ha!" she kicks up her heels, grabs a sack of money out of his hand, runs off the stage. Every time the man of La Mancha sees her, he says, "You are a lady, you have a new name. I have given it to you. It is Dulcinea."

The curtain opens on another scene ... the stage is empty. It’s night. Suddenly Aldonza comes on stage. Her hair is disheveled; she has blood and dirt and mud on her; her skirt is torn. She’s been raped. Hysterical, she runs confused and crying to the middle of the stage. Off to the side enters the man of La Mancha. When he sees her, he says, "Ho, my lady." To which she replies, "Don’t call me a lady. Look at me; I was born in a ditch; my mother left me naked and cold and too hungry to cry. I never blamed her; I’m sure she left hoping I would have the good sense to die. Ah ... look at me, I’m no lady, I’m only a kitchen slut, reeking with sweat, a strumpet men use and forget. Oh God, I am no lady; I am only Aldonza. I am nothing at all." Then she runs away and is gone.

And now it is the last scene. The man of La Mancha, like Jesus of Nazareth, has been despised, rejected by men, a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief. He is dying, like our Lord, from a broken heart. While on his deathbed, a courtly woman comes to his side. She has a beautiful mantilla which covers her modestly. She kneels beside him and says, "My lord, my lord."

Through a haze he looks at her and asks, "Who are you?"

"My lord, look, don’t you remember? Try to remember, my lord. You sang the song, remember ... to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatablc foe. My lord you gave me a new name. You called me your lady."

And through eyes clouded with death he recognizes her and says, "Dulcinea," and he dies.

God has given all of us great potential. He believes in us and wants to help us lead full and useful lives. We need to join God in his faith in us. An ever-deepening faith in Jesus Christ is the best way to accomplish this. Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and bless us with a doubt-cleansing faith, a possibility - expanding faith, a faith that opens up our great potential.

There are two actors in this scene of John's gospel: Jesus and Nicodemus. Nicodemus is not a popular figure in the gospels. He appears only a couple of other times in John's record. The last picture of him is in John 19. He and Joseph of Arimathea asked for the body of Jesus after He was crucified in order that He might have a decent burial.

One of Rembrandt's most famous etchings portrays that scene. The limp, dead body of Jesus was slowly taken down from the cross. Joseph of Arimathea, dressed as the person that he was, in all his finery, stands close by. In the darkness, further away, veiled in shadow as only Rembrandt could do it, with his face lined in sorrow, is Nicodemus. He is holding in his hands the linen cloth in which Jesus' body would be buried. The Gospel says that Nicodemus also brought with him a mixture of spices, myrrh and aloes, "about a hundred pounds". One wonders what Nicodemus must have been thinking as he stood there, waiting for the body of Christ to be taken down from the cross. Obviously, much was going on in his life this wealthy man, bringing fine linen and a bountiful amount of expensive spices to anoint the body of one who had died as a common criminal. Was he still mystified as he had been when Jesus told him that he must be born again? Was he still puzzled by the response of Jesus when he pressed his question about how one could be born again? Jesus' answer had been totally unsatisfying for his rational mind: "The Spirit blows where it wills you feel it, and you hear the sound of it but you don't know from where it comes or where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit."

Did he yet not understand? – it is nothing you do, Nicodemus, Jesus said. The Spirit does it – it is all grace. Position, honor, success, responsibility, who you know, what you have; it counts for nothing. It's all grace.

That's the issue Jesus is questioning Nicodemus about in our scripture lesson today. "Are you the teacher of Israel, and do not know these things?" It's a question relevant to us because it's the question of grace.

A man was hiking in the mountains out West when he saw the stone—a small one, about the size of a half-dollar, with smooth rounded edges. Ordinarily he would have passed it by, not being a rock hound. It would have remained there for another thousand years perhaps, a mere pebble among the larger stones on the trail. But this one instantly caught the eye. It was special. Glinting in the sunlight, it seemed to reflect all the surrounding colors, as though trying to mirror nature. Into my pocket went the rare find. All the way home to the East Coast the man thought about where he should display it so its beauty could be most enjoyed. He finally placed it in a curio cabinet, next to some jade and carved ivory. He forgot it for a while. Then one day, while dusting, he was surprised to see that the stone had completely lose its luster. It sat on the shelf among the other lovely objects, a hard, gray chunk of nothing, downright ugly. The man was shocked. What had happened to the prize he had so carefully brought back with me across the continent? Where was the sparkle and the colors that had attracted me so much? Disgusted, he snatched it up and started for the trash can in the backyard. Then, just as he opened the kitchen door, a beam of light struck the stone. As though by magic, it began to shimmer, to glow again. In an instant the beautiful jewel tones shone brilliantly. Had they returned? Or had they always been there, dormant, waiting to be released? Wondering, he glanced up at the sky. Sunlight? That was the answer. The rays from the sun were all the stone needed to come alive. How much like each of us! Of ourselves our lives are empty, colorless, without meaning. Only when we are touched by the glory of God is our inner beauty revealed.