Reflection

Jake Tatton - MCC in Edinburgh, Edinburgh, Scotland

REFLECTION: 25TH APRIL, 2004

John 21:1-19, Acts 9:1-20

I want to talk tonight about the ways that Jesus appears to us. It was a

bit tempting for me to get overly involved in the theology of these stories.

I’ve just finished, (well, almost finished,) my last 3 big essays of this

term. One was on the empty tomb event. One was on Paul’s sexual ethics,

and one was on the Church and homosexuality. So I don’t exactly have a

shortage of big concepts going around in my head.

But, and I know you’ll be really relieved to hear this, I decided I could

share the message of these readings much better, if I just retold the

stories. Story telling can be so much more powerful than intellectual

analysis, and such a better use of time, sometimes! I don’t mean to change

the stories, but to tell them like they are right now.

At first I struggled to think what stories I knew at all, that weren’t

personal. And then I wondered what stories were worth telling that weren’t

personal. And then I wondered what personal stories I was willing to tell.

Well, most of you know me pretty well, so I suppose you know most of my

dirty laundry already!

So, think back to the John reading. Think back to a group of people who

felt pretty far from God. And that makes me think back to a time when, not

for the first time, most of my family would have nothing to do with me. I

was struggling with questions about my own gender, and largely through going

through that difficult process, I’d begun to face real emotional distress.

Not because of my gender confusion, but because of the legacy my dad had

left behind in me from years of physical violence.

Me and my mum used to go out from time to time and have long walks. We’d

talk, and my mum and me think in really pretty much the same way, so we’d

often have some pretty amazing conversations. I had always thought that

maybe I was just making a big deal over nothing. After all we were a

Christian family. And what was the line between discipline and abuse? That

line was blurry - I think that was maybe the whole problem.

And we got to talking about how I needed counselling, although I think mum

meant because of my gender dysphoria. And I said that what I was going

through was a family problem, not just a “me problem”. And she agreed, and

we thought nothing more of it.

We had put our little fishing boats out, but it was stormy, and we “knew” we

wouldn’t catch anything.

Only, along came Jesus...

The next time I met up with my mum, she had some rather shocking news. Dad

agreed. It was a family problem. We should go for family therapy. Well, I

have to say I nearly threw up! And the idea was clearly appalling my mum

too. But how could we back out now? After all, it had been me who said

things had to be dealt with in a family context. But I’d only said ‘cos I

thought it wouldn’t ever happen! And Mum’d only told dad cos she thought

the same.

But here was Jesus saying - throw your nets over the other side.

So we did. There’s 6 in my family, and at times 5 of us actually made it

into that counselling room, where miraculously, we found a therapist who my

parents respected as a Christian - which is quite an achievement, let me

tell you!.... and didn’t view my sexuality as being anything other than part

of who I am, and who I was created to be.

We went from a place where my dad could only see me as a monster, a thing so

stressful he couldn't face me, to him wanting to sort out the family dynamic

above any thought of my miraculous “healing”.

We cast our nets out over the other side of the boat, and, much to our

astonishment, our nets came back into the boat full. Jesus appeared to us

and, with all those fish we brought in, brought us together to eat. And I

suppose, just the same as the disciples, we didn’t dare question it. Each

of us, in our own way, knew what had spoken to us.

Jesus reveals himself to us, so often, in the ways we least expect. In my

family we still certainly have our problems. We still have huge things to

work through and beyond. But we share communion together. I still have the

opportunity to be a voice to them they wouldn’t hear otherwise. I have the

opportunity to be the voice of Jesus to them, when it comes to these issues

so personal to me.

And we all have the opportunity to be that voice. We have the opportunity

to be the voice of Jesus in the world. I would go further. I think we have

a responsibility to be the voice of Jesus in the world. We have a truly

unique, and revolutionary message, and a voice.

There are a lot of Christians who breathe threats and murder against us,

just like Paul did to the earliest Christians. They go through the Church,

and through the Bible, and they find ways to justify our persecution.

But what if, on their journey, our voices come to them and ask - simply, and

quietly, yet shockingly and life transforming in its power - “why do you

persecute me?”

And maybe they will ask God - Who are these people who worship in your

name, yet live in ways I find impossible to accept? These people whose very

existence makes it clear that I am the “better Christian”, the “truer

disciple”?

And maybe the reply will come, because it is through us that God is being

revealed - “I am Jesus, who you are persecuting. Get up now, and enter

their Church, their communities”.

And, perhaps those around them will be speechless, confused - knowing

something significant is going on, but unable to fathom what that might be.

And those who have heard will be blinded at first. And they will have to be

led into our midst. And for 3 days, or maybe much more, they won’t see, and

they won’t be able to receive.

But perhaps there will be some among us who will be able to say - here I am

Lord, when we’re called. And perhaps God will call us to go to the street

called Straight (isn’t that funny?!), to the house of one we thought a

traitor, and look for those who have persecuted us. And maybe they’ll be

praying, so torn up with the idea that we might not be their enemy after

all, knowing in their hearts that their ministry is to be along side us.

And maybe, even when we answer that call, we will be scared. Odds are we

will be, I’d have thought! And we’ll say to God - “look at the damage these

people have done. Look at the hurt they have inflicted. Look at those who

have become ill, because their Church never gave them the support to learn

to know how to protect themselves or respect themselves. Look at all those

who have died alone because their parents thought they were unlovable. Look

at all those whose mental health has suffered, and all those who have been

lonely and tired and full of despair. All because these people said we

could not be Your children. And here they are again, with the authority of

their Churches and their moral majorities, looking to hurt us some more!

But maybe God will say to us, just as to Ananias - “go. These folk are my

instrument too. And I have chosen them to bring my name to those who have

not heard it, and to those who make the decisions of your nations, and to

you too. I will show them, and they will know what it is to suffer for the

sake of my name”.

So maybe we’ll go to that street called Straight, and we’ll enter that house

with trepidation. And we’ll embrace those sisters and brothers, and give

them their sight back. Maybe then the scales will fall from their eyes, and

they will be able so see again.

And perhaps then they can be baptised. Not in the way of water and

ceremony, but baptised into a new love. A love for all, and a love that is

free from judgement, free from fear, free most of all from hate.

And, baptised into this same love, maybe we can all share the communion of

food and fellowship together, and grow stronger, together.

And then, once those folk have learned with us, and grown strong again, with

us, they will go back into their Churches, and their Governments, and their

communities and say - these queer people we though were so sinful, are the

children of God.

What it doesn’t tell you in Acts, is that Paul spent around 18 years in

between his Damascus Road experience and his ministry. Scholars know this

from the dating of his letters, some of which didn’t make it into the Bible,

and other documents from the time. Now 18 years is not just -Damascus Road,

oh, Jesus is Lord! 18 years is study, soul searching, questioning,

struggling. By the time Paul wrote his epistles, his views had developed

hugely from those he would have held as a Pharisee.

So, when we allow ourselves to be the way Jesus appears to our persecutors,

we shouldn’t be fooling ourselves with any thoughts of quick fix! We’ll

have to step into the shoes of Ananias, walk over to that street called

Straight, and find the humility to embrace the ones who persecute us.

Some of us are better at that sort of humility than others. I for one, am

rubbish. When someone hurts me, I don’t even want to see them, never mind

reach out to them. I guess that’s part of why I’m in this Church, not

Holyrood Abbey Church, where I grew up. Just like Paul, they believe they

are doing the work of God. Just like Paul they think we are corrupting

God’s word and doing real damage to the world and to ourselves.

And that is why Jesus had to give Paul an experience he just could not walk

away from. Those who persecute us need to see in their own lives, the voice

of Jesus, they need to experience Jesus, through us. In their own language.

They need to understand that it is the voice of Jesus who is asking - why

are you persecuting me? If they don’t make that connection, they will not

hear.

If we are to be one of the ways Jesus appears to the world, well, I think

that’s both really exciting, and really scary. It’s a huge responsibility.

But it’s one of those things where, I think, we just have to answer the

call. We just have to be like - okay. And just do it. Go to the house of

the one who persecutes us. And be community. And share community.

I guess that’s really the point of having an open communion. We have to

really mean it! We have to welcome every single person to that table,

whether they persecute us or not. Whether they call God by the same name,

or not. Whether they think they like us or not. If we are celebrating an

open communion, we are celebrating an open communion. We are not just

sharing gluten free bread and non alcoholic wine. We are not just

remembering the last supper of Jesus and the disciples. We are not just

remembering the ultimate sacrifice of Christ on the cross. We are not just

accepting forgiveness and we are not just being renewed with Christ’s life

giving touch. We are sharing those basic components of human relation. We

are sharing fellowship - sharing the experience of being with those around

us. And we are sharing nourishment - another absolute basic.

I think one of the best ways we share communion is when we have suppers

together. When we stand or sit around chatting and eating. It’s then that

we really get to know each other. Then that we have the opportunity to

reach out to others. Then that we create community. It is then that we can

bring friends, or family, and have them share in our community in a way that

might feel a little bit less uncomfortable to them - how judgemental can you

be with a mouth full of scone?!

It’s then that they get a chance to see that we’re really human beings! And

that we’re human beings who, even though the Church has turned its back on

us, (in some quarters at least,) human beings who have chosen to keep doing

Church. Gay and lesbian and bisexual and transgendered, transsexual,

straight, with families, without families, with friends, with partners, or

lovers, people that are queer in the myriad ways it is possible to be - here

we are choosing to do Church, to start from scratch and relearn what that

could possibly mean to us.

That is a message in itself. That is the voice of Jesus right there. How

exciting to see the voice of Jesus all around! How exciting to be the voice

of Jesus in the world! How exciting to be doing it and seeing it together.

And how wonderful. How glorious a joy I know, through seeing and being with

all of you.

Jesus is going to keep appearing to us in the ways we least expect. Just

like my dysfunctional family going into therapy, sometimes he’ll appear to

us in ways we don’t even think we want him to! Like the disciples, we’ll

be confused, and sometimes we’ll be resentful or reluctant.

And, like how it was for Paul, sometimes the voice of Jesus will come

contrary to what we though God was saying. That's why, when Jesus speaks

through us, it might sound really contrary to other voices. We must never

be arrogant though. We can be wrong. We can be led by ego. We can be

affected by hurt and anger. But never the less, God will speak. God keeps

speaking. Jesus came to the world in the way the Jews least expected. And

Jesus speaks through the people least likely, in many minds, to be spoken

through. Jesus was the friend of the tax collector. And he was the friend

of the prostitute, the friend of the pitcher carrier, the friend of the Jew,

and the Roman.

So think about the ways Jesus has appeared to you already in your life.

Think about the ways you have been challenged and surprised and amazed.

Think about all the parallels there already are between your own experiences

and the stories of the Bible. These stories aren’t alien to us. They’re

not so far removed, not so difficult to relate to!

And think about what it means to be Jesus’ voice in the world. What is it

we’re saying? And how do we come across when we’re saying it? We shouldn’t

ever try to be anything other than what we are - warts and all. But we

don’t need to let our own, understandable, defensiveness be part of that.

We are created beings. We are God’s chosen, created people. We are Jesus’

voice in the world, and we are part of the Body of Christ. Our voice is God

given, and our voice is true. Our voice is a voice of liberation, and a

voice of solidarity.

But is must also be a voice of calm. Where we have been misunderstood, we

must try to understand. Where we have been hurt, we must seek to heal.

Where we have been attacked we must rebuild. And where we have been

excluded we must include. I love being who I am, and I love knowing that

God made me this way on purpose. Sometimes I can’t think why, and other

times I feel sure there must be a mistake. I mean really, did God want this

belly hanging over my belt? And really, did God create me to make quite so

many mistakes with my life, or, particularly, with my finances? But at the

end of the day, I am a voice. I am a voice with something to say that

matters, and a voice within this larger voice of ours, this voice that says

- here we are - myriad queer, children of God, speaking proudly, and not in

defiance, but in love!

That’s a voice of Jesus, if ever there was one! Let’s keep speaking, and do

it with confidence, because God gives us our words, however faltering they

may seem to be.

Will you pray with me?

Lord, thank you for your ways. Thank you for how you come to us, in ways

that surprise us, and confuse us and challenge us. Thank you that we need

not expect a formula. Thank you that we need not have a text book. Thank

you that your ways are rarely our ways. And Thank you for the unique space

you’ve made for each one of us in your world. And Lord, please let us feel

you close when our voices seem to go unheard. Please, give us strength when

our voices are shunned or mocked. Because Lord, we know our voice is of

you, and that our voice is saying what it ought to, just as long as we keep

our focus on you.

Father and Mother God, please bind us together as a community, a whole made

up of some really different parts. And let our voice keep on ringing out,

no matter how loud the opposition. And let our voice be without anger, and

without fear. Lord God, these things we pray,

Amen