Practicing Resurrection
A sermon brought forth from 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 preached on November 12, 2023
How are you with talk about the end of the world? I gotta say, it’s not my favorite subject. For the last ten years as a pastor, I’ve spent most every Sunday preaching, but looking back I found that I’ve never preached on this passage. Which means I’ve conveniently avoided it, chosen to preach on something from Matthew or Joshua or the Psalms instead. Anything but this passage.
But it’s caught up to me. I’ve tried to outrun it, but today it’s caught up to me. So here we are. I’m not surprised this part of scripture has caught up to me. God’s Word catches up to us. Chases us down. Finds us where we are. Exactly how we are. Then it has something surprising to say. It lets us in on more of the Christ-life. Just when we thought we have a handle on things—this life and how to live it—God’s Word throws us for a loop, takes us out of ourselves and into God. And when we find ourselves in that space, the first thing we realize is how much we don’t know and how much there is to unlearn.
Before we can learn what God is like or what God is doing we must first rid ourselves of what we thought we knew but really have no clue about. We have a lot to unlearn. There’s a lot to unlearn about this passage of scripture. To understand it, we must first forget everything we think we know about it. If we want to understand what Paul is saying here, we have a lot of unlearning to do.
The new Jesus-followers in Thessalonica are upset by the death of one or more of their members and wonder whether those who have died will miss out on the celebration of God’s ultimate victory when Jesus returns. Paul assures them that those who have dies won’t miss out on a thing.
God has already told us that endings, including the death of our loved ones, do not have the last word. Easter proved that, and Easter resurrection wasn’t just for Jesus. It’s for us, too. Their loved ones will see life again. This is an Easter promise, and Easter resurrection wasn’t a one-time event. The empty tomb was a new reality that takes some getting used to. Easter is a 24/7/365 promise that every bit of our lives is being restored, brought to new life. In Christ—because of Christ—both the dead and the living will ultimately rejoice together in God’s presence. They will know life beyond life. Though the details aren’t clear, they are left up to God. And God is trustworthy.
Maybe you’ve made the mistake of reading one of the Left Behind novels—the ones based on the crazy notion that when Jesus comes back some of us are going to be sucked up into the sky to be with Jesus while others will be, well, left behind. It’s not exactly joy reading. Some call this “the rapture.” Maybe you’ve seen these terrible ideas on a bumper sticker or two, something along the lines of “in case of rapture, this car will be empty.”
Some take this passage and imagine that when Jesus comes back everyone on God’s good side will head skyward. But that’s not what Paul has in mind here. That’s a dangerous misunderstanding of this passage. We misuse these verses if all we do is argue about what the blueprint for the last days looks like.
For us, the final day isn’t one of apprehension but of anticipation, not of panic but of peace. It turns out Paul is borrowing an image from something much more down to earth. When those in a Roman colony like Thessalonica would get word that an emperor or some other dignitary was on the way to them, the townspeople would plan their arrival, put out all the stops. In an expression of hospitality, they would go out to greet their long-awaited guest and accompany them and take the last steps of their journey with them. This is what Paul has in mind.
God once approached us in Jesus, became one of us. He came close, was born among us, right where we live. He moved into our neighborhood because God wanted to live right next to us. He left footprints right next to ours. He shared in this life with us because that’s all God has ever wanted to do. God in Christ walked with us to show us to right way to walk. And now, Paul says to the Christ-faithful at Thessalonica that when Jesus come close again, they will have the honor of accompanying him. Jesus has always wanted to be a houseguest.
Think of Jesus welcoming himself to Zacchaeus’s house; Jesus feasted with sinners and tax collectors of all sorts; He spent time with Simon the Pharisee. He broke bread with the two disciples when they arrived at Emmaus. God has wanted to be with His people, to leave his footprints right next to ours. He’s always wanted us to walk Him home, invited us in, to our neighborhoods where we break bread, do laundry, and cook our meals. That’s where we know life at its best, and God has always wanted to be invited into that place. Paul is telling the Christ-faithful that they will have the honor of walking Jesus into their homes. What an extravagant honor! Then they will live and know eternity.
It turns out that eternity doesn’t have much to do with quantity, an unnumbered amount of time. Gospel eternity is not a quantity of anything; it’s rather a quality of life, the deepness and richness of a life with God close by. “Eternity” is just another word for living close to Jesus and making room for Him to live with us.
The first thing we should keep in mind is that because God is the Center of everything, there are no endings that don’t have another beginning right after it. Whenever God gets involved—or rather because God is involved in everything—there’s never not another beginning. There are no endings with a beginning right after it. That’s a gospel promise.
Lots of folks see these words from Paul as a doom’s day premonition—a way to scare some Jesus into people. Any talk about the end of the world and how that will go seems to do that. But Paul isn’t interested in providing a duck and cover plan for the end times. He’s not giving them an exit strategy for the apocalypse.
It seems the Thessalonians have talked themselves into a frenzy about “end-things.” How’s it all going to go when Jesus comes back? Is there an evacuation plan? Who’s going to be a part? What about those we love who have died—will they be included? Or has God forgotten about them? These are God-sized questions. Serious and anxious ones, but they’re the kinds of questions grieving people ask, and Paul knows this.
How do you show up for someone who has God-sized questions? What do you say? Paul responds with careful words, full of compassion. He wants to remind them of who God is—how God sees all this. But Paul is much more interested in reminding these anxious ones of how much God loves them, how God understands their grief, that God loves the ones they love. Paul assures them that because of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, they will see life beyond life and so will their loved whom they have lost.
Paul is not interested in offering them an exit strategy for the end of the world. If anything, he gives them an entrance strategy. These aren’t directions for how to get to heaven; they’re a Kingdom-come promise of how heaven is always making its way closer and closer to earth. This is how God enters into a people. God is always offering more and more of who he is to more and more of who we are.
God’s invitation to us—to this and every Christ-community—is to open space for him to move in and among us. This is how a community of the Christ-faithful can practice resurrection. We can do that here and now! No need to wait for Kingdom come, we can practice resurrection right where we are with the One who is always arriving. When the fullness of time comes, the God who has always been nearer to us than we have imagined will come closer still; won’t that be welcome? We’ll go out to meet him and welcome Him in just as he welcomes us into to His eternal presence.
Until then, we are called just as the Thessalonians, and every Christ-community since, to practice resurrection together.
All praises to the One who made it all and finds it beautiful! Alleluia! Amen.