Strong directives to give the small band of Jesus’ frightened followers: with Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion they’ve denied, scattered, hidden, in fear that his fate might also be theirs. It’s only the evening of that first day of the week, and already they’ve forgotten the joy of the morning, the empty tomb, the directive to meet him in Galilee. Instead, once again they are frightened, demoralized – probably full of doubts: Was it real? Is it a trap? We can almost see them pulling back, cowering inside themselves as well as behind the locked doors of that upper room, and we can imagine their terror as well as their devastation. Unloosed from their moorings, their hearts broken and their hopes shattered, they need to regroup, to sort things out, to figure out who they are, where they are going, what next…

The imagery of William Butler Yeats comes to mind:

Now that my ladder’s gone

I must lie down where all the ladders start

In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.

I see them in that Upper Room, each one in the isolation of the foul rag-and-bone shop of his or her own heart.

And Jesus comes to find them.

And Jesus comes to find them.

Here they are: a motley bunch of frightened screw-ups.

And Jesus comes to find them.

He doesn’t abandon them, as they have him.

He doesn’t come to reprimand them.

He comes because he loves them: "Peace be with you," he says, a greeting both calming and forgiving.

"Peace be with you," and, breathing on them, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

And in that interaction of love and forgiveness, something happens to the disciples, something changes: they not only recognize Jesus: "My Lord and my God!" in Thomas’ words – but they are emboldened to receive, and to act on, Jesus’ commission: Go, write, tell…

In that simple interaction, in that encounter with the Risen Christ, a small, disparate band of defeated and despairing followers rise themselves from the foul rag and bone shop of their hearts to become the evangelists who build the church. Fear has been transformed into courage; despair into hope; doubt into confidence; and, a few "followers of the Way" will become a movement.

That’s powerful alchemy!

What happened?

Jesus found them.

Not because they were perfect: we know that!

Not because they were wealthy, or well-educated, or well-connected, or "had it all together."

He found them because he loved them.

And his love empowered them; it awoke something in them.

In the words of John Buchanan, editor of Christian Century (12/12/06) "To be able to love, to have love planted in your heart, to have love called out of you, is to be alive. The perfect gift is a gift that awakens your own love, that draws love out of you."

Jesus gave them that perfect gift.

It is a gift that keeps on giving.

It gave life to the disciples as they went forth to spread the Gospel.

It gave life to the early church, with its many martyrs, willing to die rather than recant the Truth of what they knew to be in Jesus. (In the words of the venerable old Polycarp as he went to his death by burning, "Christ has served me well these 86 years; why would I desert him now?")

It has given life to the church through later martyrs, like Oscar Romero in El Salvador, or our own Martin Luther King, Jr., both murdered for living lives that proclaimed the love of Christ.

It’s easy to hear today’s lessons superficially and "at a distance" – to admire the courage of Peter and the apostles to continue preaching instead of going into hiding after having been released from prison; to imagine the visions and images John so eloquently describes; to leap to judgment about Thomas – and miss the underlying transformation embedded in each, the love which has made the witness.

It’s easier to hear these texts as they pertain to someone else – then – rather than as they pertain to us – now.

Frederik Buechner has pointed out that we can’t really hear what the stories of the Bible are saying until we hear them as stories about ourselves.

So I wonder: what do these passages say to us today?

Where are we in the story?

I think of the prisons we’ve found ourselves in – the bars of debt or addiction or illness or fear or anger every bit as confining as the prison walls of Peter and the disciples.

I think of the rooms in which we have cowered, hiding our souls if not our bodies behind locked doors, afraid to live.

I think of the foul rag-and-bone-shops of our hearts that we all know so intimately, those despairing places we’ve all found ourselves in from time to time.

And I’m encouraged to know that Jesus comes to find us there.

Even as he came to find the disciples, he comes to find us, breaking open the prison bars of our lives, walking through the walls of our fears, offering us a hand up, or a shoulder to cry on, or the soothing balm of his breath: "Peace be with you."

Jesus finds us and plants his love in our hearts – not because we are perfect, or well-educated, or wealthy or well-connected or even deserving, but because, like the disciples, he loves us.

And then he sends us out – our transformed selves – not to keep the news to ourselves, but to share it: Go, Write, Tell…

Go, write, tell…. What?

Not HIS story: born in Bethlehem, baptized in the Jordon, crucified, died, and rose in Jerusalem.

Not a parable or two: the Good Samaritan, or the Prodigal Son.

Not his teachings: Matthew 25: as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it unto me; or, the Beatitudes: blessed are the poor, the meek, the merciful…

These are good things all, to know. But they’re just information.

And information doesn’t change lives.

Experience does.

Jesus sends us out to tell OUR story, to share our experience, to witness to what has happened between each of us and Jesus, that the lives of others, also, might be transformed.

How has our encounter with the Risen Christ changed our lives?

Where have we encountered Jesus?

What difference has it made? How have we been transformed?

Think about it for a moment.

Remember a time when Jesus broke through your walls, when you encountered the Risen Christ in the foul rag and bone shop of your heart.

Or perhaps your relationship with Jesus has been less dramatic – not one particular encounter, but ever-present, something you take for granted, like the air you breathe – there, important – but not something you generally think about.

Imagine for a moment losing it – not having that air, not being able to breathe, not having Jesus in your life.

And now feel Jesus’ presence there, returning, finding you, restoring "normal" to your life.

Allow yourself to feel Jesus claim you, plant his love in your heart, awakening your own love, drawing love out of you…

Now share the Good News.

Live so that everyone can see it!

It’s too wonderful to keep to ourselves!

Amen.