June 8, 2025
John 20:19-23
Introduction
Jesus “showed them his hands and his side.” That doesn’t sound a lot like Pentecost. Typically when we think of Pentecost we think of the rush of a violent wind, divided tongues of fire, speaking in other languages, people seemingly intoxicated at 9 o’clock in the morning, but really they are filled with the Holy Spirit. That’s how Luke describes it in the Book of Acts. But John’s account of Pentecost tells about locked doors, fear, wounds, peace, a shared breath, being sent. In John’s Gospel, Pentecost is more quiet and intimate. It’s Easter evening and the disciples are afraid. They’re hiding behind locked doors. Jesus came and stood among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then he showed them his wounds from the crucifixion. He showed them his hands and his side.
I wonder why Jesus did that. I wonder what he wanted them—what he wants us— to see. I think there’s more to be seen than just the mark of the nails and the piercing of the sword. I think it’s about more than simply being able to identify Jesus as the one who was crucified. I think that in showing us his wounds Jesus is identifying with every person who has ever been or is wounded. I think the open wounds of Jesus hold the pain of the world. It’s as poet Warsan Shire writes in her poem, “what they did yesterday afternoon,” that pain is everywhere:
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
Move 1
The wounded body of Jesus is an emblem of our wounded world. To look at Jesus’ hands and his side is to see the wounds we’ve received and the ones we’ve inflicted on others.
And I wonder what that brings up for you. What is hurting your heart today? What are the tender spots of your life? What’s festering deep inside that you don’t want anyone to see? Where do you see another hurting? Can you hold his or her gaze, or do you look away because you just don’t want to see? In what ways have you and I added to the pain of another?
The daily news breaks my heart. I see fear. I see death. I see protests. I see anger. I see violence. I see prejudice and racism. I see arrogance. I see privilege. I see unemployment. I see poverty and economic hardship. Those are the open wounds of our country and we’re hemorrhaging. We’re bleeding out and some can’t breathe.
There is fear and wounds because America is in a hard place these days, and we have been in a hard place for quite a while. Over the last few years, the division has become as wide as I have ever known, and the last few months it seems the pace of the division has only quickened because the political vitriol on both sides of the aisle has escalated exponentially. Long gone is the notion “we’re all in this together.” We’re not “all together.” And on this day of Pentecost, we are certainly not “all in one place.” Our country is divided, fragmented, and wounded. And so is my heart. Maybe yours is too.
Move 2
It’s not easy to talk about our wounds; whether it’s our individual wounds or our national wounds; whether it’s the wounds we’ve received or the ones we’ve inflicted. To talk about our wounds requires us to look at what we’ve done and left undone. It means we each have to look within ourselves. It means taking responsibility for our lives. It means valuing the life and wounds of another as much as our own.
And if we were to do such, then we might need to confess that we did wrong, or that we were wrong. And we might need to forgive those who have wronged us. We might need to reach out to another and have a hard conversation we’ve been avoiding. And we might need to open ourselves to another’s reaching toward us. We might need to offer the ointment of healing to another—whatever that might be or look like. And we might need to receive another’s ointment for our healing.
I know all this in my head, and it makes sense. But most of the time I don’t want to face or deal with my wounds. It’s too painful. It’s a vulnerable and risky place to be. Maybe you feel like that too.
More often than not I just want to deny that my wounds hurt. I want to keep and show my “stiff upper lip.” I want to ignore or forget my wounds, relegate them to the past. I want to cover up and hide my wounds so no one can see them—not even me. But admittedly, I will make judgments about and blame others—and I do that because sometimes I want to use my wounds, revel in them, and play the victim so I can get attention or sympathy. And admittedly, sometimes I’ve done the worst of all when I want to use my wounds—I use them as a justification for wounding and hurting someone else.
But Jesus doesn’t do any of these things, did he? No. What does he do? He shows up behind the locked doors, stands among the Disciples in the midst of their fear and the wounds, and says, “Peace be with you.” Then he shows them his hands and his side. He shows them his wounds and then he says again, “Peace be with you.” And he breaths upon them. Jesus’ wounds sit in the middle of the peace he offers. Peace bookends both sides of his wounds.
*******
What do you think life would be like if that was true for us? What do you think the world would be like if we all lived with a wounded peace? What if the only real peace we can offer comes out of the wounds we’ve suffered?
Move 3
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean when you’re afraid and you’ve locked the doors of your house, your heart, your life?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean as we continue to become further and further divided?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean for the friends and family we have lost, those we’ve let slip away because they’re on the other side of the aisle?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that peace mean when we continue to draw lines between those who are born in this country and those who came to this country?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that peace mean between politicians and scientists and Christians; what does that peace mean between those who are struggling to make ends meet and those who don’t have to worry or think about it?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does that mean for George Floyd and his family; or Brianna Taylor’s family, or Eric Garner’s, or Tamir Rice’s family? What does “Peace be with you,” mean in light of America’s racism? What does “Peace be with you,” mean for us as Christians—followers of Christ—today?
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What does it mean for you?
Move 4
It’s been in my head for a while now that as your pastor, I have a lot of questions, but I don’t have a lot of answers to the questions I’ve asked. Please know I regret that. But please know too, I can’t always give you answers—and frankly it’s not a primary goal of mine. It’s among my goals, sure. But more so, I aim to be as much like John the Baptist as I can— “a voice in the wilderness crying out, ‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord.’” That, after all, is why Pentecost even happened—it’s why the church was born—so that we the Church could be, and would be, a voice in the wilderness—a voice to those lost in the wilderness that says, “You don’t have to live in fear. You don’t have to live a wounded life. You can have peace. You can find healing.”
So yes, I wish I could offer you answers, but the reality of being Church is that each one of us must figure out how to be at peace—which we know. Live in Christ. But nowadays we also have to figure out how to be at peace in this county; how to be at peace with one another; how to be at peace with those we disagree with; with those who don’t look like us.
But there is one more reality of being Church each of us must figure out to be at peace… And that is how to offer peace…how to be a presence of peace, from our fear and wounds to the fear and wounds of others. Because that is why the church was born—to be moved by God’s Holy Spirit from fear and wounds by peace and breath.
Conclusion
I can’t tell you how exactly to move from fear and wounds to peace and breath, but I can tell you this… The peace Jesus offers doesn’t mean serenity or lack of conflict. And it doesn’t mean that we necessarily get our way. And I think it’s more than a truce, more that an agreement to disagree, or the resignation to go along in order to get along.
The peace Jesus offers, the breathe he breaths… changes hearts… it sends people into the world… it heals lives and let’s all people breath. The peace Jesus offers will be found next to our wounds. It’s a wounded peace.
“Peace be with you,” Jesus says. What will you do with your wounded peace today? To whom will you offer it? How will you let it make a difference in the life of another? How will you use it, and how will you offer it, to move yourself and others from fear and wounds to peace and breath? On this day of Pentecost, and on every day, may we all find peace…and breathe. Amen.
Pastoral Prayer, June 8, 2025 Pentecost Sunday
Holy God, we come to worship thankful for our church and our families, and for our church family.
We pray your call upon our lives becomes clearer, through your word and your church, that may we know peace and healing through your breath, that may we know our call and the vision you cast. We want to be the church you want us to be so that we can have the lasting impact of showing others the power of your Holy Spirit. For that is the premise, and the promise, of Pentecost—an ongoing, everlasting display and source that moves all your children from fear and wounds to peace and breath.
So on this day of Pentecost, when we celebrate the coming of your Holy Spirit, and the birth of the Church, keep us ever aware of this precious and powerful gift. Help us to always know that…
We are gifted with the power of the Holy Spirt to be peacemakers in a world torn by violence.
We are gifted with the power of the Holy Spirt to receive forgiveness to our own sin and are equipped to offer forgiveness to others.
We are gifted with the power of the Holy Spirt to be courageous in the face of descent and rejection due to false assumption about the Church, or those who are Church in unfaithful ways.
We are gifted with the power of the Holy Spirt to share the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, in understandable, clear, and engaging ways.
So we pray you embolden us to testify to your presence in the world, to exemplify your love for all humanity by sharing with all the hope and joy we have come to know because of your Church—the Church of that first Pentecost, and the church we are family to today.
We ask that you would listen now to the prayers of our hearts as we offer them to you in this time of Holy Silence.
All this we pray in the name of Jesus the Christ, who taught us to pray saying, “Our…”