Dr. Eric Gilchrest

Waiting on Pentecost

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Fifty days after Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples are still sitting and waiting for something to happen. Jesus has ascended to heaven, and they’re just waiting. Surely they want to know, “What’s next? Where do we go from here?” And then, without notice or forewarning, the building is filled with wind and fire, and the disciples are filled with the Holy Spirit. I think most of us are in a place of waiting right now. Waiting on what’s next. Wondering where we go from here. On this Pentecost Sunday, may we follow the spirit’s prompting and discover what God has in store for us.

What Philip Learned

As we saw last Sunday, at the beginning of Acts 8 Philip makes it to Samaria, and they received him with joy. But Philip hasn't yet completed his training. He has more to learn from crisis he survived. By going to Samaria, Philip continues fulfilling the calling of Jesus back in Acts 1:8: to go to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the ends of the earth. This week, staying in Acts 8, we find that the ends of the earth are coming to Philip! On the road to Gaza he meets an Ethiopian Eunuch. He learns that the harvest is ready, that the world is open to God in a way we should not underestimate, and it is our job to continue to share the good news in good times and bad.

Moving from Crisis to Calling

Chapter 8 is a turning point in the book of Acts. To this point, the apostles and disciples have been hanging around Jerusalem and Judea. They have been teaching at the temple, making more disciples, and creating the bonds of community. Important stuff! But something needed to happen. Jesus had given them clear instruction before leaving. An unmistakable calling. They were to go to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the ends of the earth (1:8). They hadn’t left Judea. But with the death of Stephen at the end of chapter 7, crisis hits, and everyone is scattered. It was no longer safe to remain near Jerusalem, and so the first thing we read about is Philip preaching to Samaria. That’s right, the next stop on Jesus’ list. It is a crisis that drives the disciples back to their calling, and just like that they are back on track to fulfilling the mission that God has set before them.

Forgiveness

In Acts chapter 7, we read about the last moments of Stephen’s life. He is standing before a council that is prepared to stone him to death for blasphemy. In the midst of this assembly Stephen has a moment of clarity where I would argue he see three things. First, he looks up to heaven and is able to see Jesus seated at the right hand of the Father. Second, he sees through the actions of the council, stones in hand, and utters words nearly identical to Jesus at his death. He offers forgiveness. He pleads with the Father and Son on behalf of those who are about to kill him and asks that they not hold their sins against them. But why? That gets to the third thing. I have to imagine that he sees himself with clarity too. As one in need of forgiveness standing before the Father and the Son, he therefore offers it to any and all he encounters, even to his death.

Further Up and Further In

The phrase, “further up and further in,” comes from C. S. Lewis’ final book of his Narnia series in which the storyline heads toward a grand conclusion and a heavenly habitation. The phrase itself should be understood as a summons. It is a call to keep one’s eyes ever on goal that awaits us: union with God. It is God who stands up on the mountain and calls us to himself. And until we arrive at that place, we will always be “sojourners and exiles”, as 1 Peter puts it. We are midway through a journey that will take us past death and into life. We are called to higher things. And so as we journey on, there is always further up and further in.

The Imperishable Seed

Peter contrasts two kinds of life, and he reminds us that we have been given both. The first is a perishable life that we all know quite well. It is the life that is filled with good and beautiful things, much like the grass and the flowers of the field are good and beautiful for a time; but as the author says, one day they will wither and fall. As he puts it, this is the life made from “perishable seed.” But there is a second kind for those in Christ, a life made from “imperishable seed,” a life formed from the enduring word of God. The questions we must ask are, which of these lives will we invest in? Which will dictate our larger life choices? Are we living for that which perishes, or are we living for the eternal and the enduring?

Already But Not Yet

We are in a season that has traditionally been called “Eastertide.” The resurrection has left behind it a “wake” that has altered reality. Let us not live as if nothing ever happened. The Kingdom of God has already broken into our world! And yet . . . not yet. Or at least not completely. The kingdom is already, but not yet, here. Jesus has defeated death and sin, but we await death’s death blow. We live between the times. The question is, how ought we to live in such a time as this?

He is Risen!

Easter and Christmas are the two pillars of the Christian calendar. They root the church in two grand realities that tell us about the God we serve and shape what we believe and how we are to live. Today we celebrate Easter. We remind ourselves that no matter how dark the story gets, it isn’t over until resurrection happens. The resurrection of Christ is the first fruit of the redemption of the world. It is God’s down payment to us, where he says, I’m going to redeem this place, believe me. When we shout, “He is risen! He is risen indeed!”, we are remembering that the redemption of the world has begun in the resurrection of one man. Surely we need this message today.

Open Palms on Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday, in a vacuum, is a glorious day. The entrance of a king! It is the celebration of the one who brings peace, humbly riding on a donkey to take the throne that has long awaited him. But we know that the days that follow are anything but glorious. The days that follow are filled with anguish and death and even betrayal. As Holy Week processes, Palm Sunday looks like a distant memory in the rear-view mirror. The disconnect between it and Good Friday is difficult to square. And yet, this year of all years, we feel the disconnect. We do not celebrate in a vacuum but in reality just as Jesus’ celebration did not exist in a vacuum. And so, on this Palm Sunday we open our palms and stand with hands and hearts open to where God is leading us. We may not understand it, and it is not a road we would choose, but rest assured in this: all of the roads that God leads us to and through ultimately lead to resurrection.

We Will Rise Again

Resurrection is a common thing to talk about this time of year. Spring has begun and the world is waking from its winter slumber. We are in the middle of Lent, preparing for the power of the resurrection on Easter morning. But this year is different. As I’ve seen stated in one meme going around the internet: “I didn’t expect to give up so much for Lent!” We’ve given up closeness and touch; many have given up going too far from home; some have, unwillingly, given up jobs and the security of a regular income. Ezekiel 37 speaks of a promised return from exile, something we might better appreciate in the middle of this virus. Or as Jesus says about Lazarus, in John 11, we “will rise again." But the exile of Israel and the death of Lazarus have important lessons to teach us, and we must learn them while we still can. The questions we need to be asking are: What will we rise to when all is said and done? Who will we be on the other side of all of this? And what lessons must be learned from this time of exile?

Psalm 23

Psalm 23 is a passage that has made its way out of Christian and Jewish circles and into the popular culture at large. Its beauty and simplicity speak to the heart in metaphor and symbol. It is a poem, of course, and in an age that has little time for poetry, it is much needed. It speaks of shepherds and sheep, waters and paths, tables and cups. It is not despite the ordinary nature of the images but because they are ordinary that this poem speaks to the depths of souls. But in these troubled times, it is the line about the “valley of the shadow of death” that stands out most. David speaks not as one pontificating about the valley, but as one who writes the poem while walking through the valley. As we read God’s word this morning, may we find the green pastures and the still waters that the Lord desires to lead us toward.

Obedience

I’ve heard more than a few people at this church say, “Obedience is God’s love language.” I like this! God desires our obedience. And, as we all know, sometimes obedience is hard. It requires doing things we don’t want to do or not doing things we want to do. And this is not easy stuff, as Paul tells us very clearly in Romans 7:19. However, believe it or not, this kind of obedience is not the ideal. What we are really striving for is a complete change of nature so that obedience to God doesn’t require muscle and strength of will but a simple, “Yes, Lord.” This kind of obedience, where one’s heart is turned toward God completely, is where our spiritual journeys should be heading. It’s that place where our desires and God’s desires sing in unison.

Temptation

To be human is to be tempted. Temptation is as old as the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the garden of Eden and is as recent as the frustration that you did (or didn’t) resist on your morning commute to church. It is a regular part of life and it’s not going away any time soon. So what do we do? How do we cope with the temptations that plague us, and where do we turn when it gets the best of us? That is what we need to talk about this morning.

Metamorphosis

 Most of us are familiar with Palm Sunday. We’re all familiar with Easter Sunday. Today, however, is a day you might be less familiar with: Transfiguration Sunday. What’s that you say? You’ve never heard of Transfiguration Sunday? Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Transfiguration Sunday is traditionally celebrated the Sunday before the season of Lent which kicks off this week with Ash Wednesday. The Transfiguration of Jesus on one end of Lent creates a bookend to the other end: the Easter resurrection! When understood this way, the Transfiguration serves as a foretaste of the glory of resurrection, and both the transfiguration and the resurrection remind us of the glory and transformation of our own souls that are in process and yet to be realized.

Merely Human

In today’s passage, Paul accuses the Corinthian church of acting “merely human,” which is to say that they are acting as if the Spirit of God does not dwell in them. This is no small accusation. Our faith invites us into a new way of being human. Not that we are no longer human, but that our humanity is met with the power of the Holy Spirit empowering us to be more like Christ. If Paul were a guest preacher this morning, would he speak to you as he spoke to the Corinthians? Or is the Spirit transforming you day-by-day?

Unveiled

In the opening chapter of John we learn quite a lot about Jesus. He is the Word which is from the beginning. He is God incarnate. He is the light of the world. He is the only begotten. He is Lord. He is the Lamb of God. He is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit. He is the Son of God. He is Rabbi, Messiah, the one of whom Moses and the prophets spoke, and the King of Israel. And while each of these carries profound implications, it is the final line of the chapter that prompts today’s message. Here Jesus says that the disciples will see “the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” The meaning of this statement and its implication on our own lives is nothing less than transformational. Let’s dig in!

The Search

In today’s reading, Jesus asks one of life’s great questions: What are you seeking? The answer, both in the gospel and in life, can be hard to pin down. But the question needs to be asked because you’re only going to find something if you’re seeking it out. The disciples teach us that they are seeking the presence of Jesus; staying or abiding with him. They name him Rabbi or teacher, and through his presence and teaching they come to understand he is the messiah. What are you seeking?

Who Are You?

The Bible is filled with good questions. It’s one of my favorite things about the Bible. It asks questions that penetrate the everydayness of life and force us to take a closer look at our lives. Today’s text asks one of those good questions. John the Baptist is at the Jordan River baptizing many when the priests and Levites go out to find out what is so special about this man. They ask him: “Who are you?” John’s response is telling, and it’s what we need to talk about today, but ultimately it’s not John’s answer you should be concerned with, it’s your own. Who are you? You, sitting in the pew reading these words. Who are you? How would you answer this question?

Immanuel

Frederick Buechner writes, “Until we have taken the idea of the God-man seriously enough to be scandalized by it, we have not taken it as seriously as it demands to be taken.” The incarnation—that is, the coming of God in the flesh—confronts us with a scandal that we too often fail to see. To put it simply, and perhaps crudely: God. Wore. Diapers. Let that sink in. The God who created all things and sustains all things entered into creation, became part of creation, and took on human flesh as a baby that was just as weak and needy as any baby you have ever held. If this is not a window into God that you have ever considered, let’s do so together today.