“Locked Doors and Locked Hearts” 

John 20:19-31 

When we made the move to Hawaii (where my dad was part of a group that was starting a school to train Christian missionaries for Asia and the Pacific.), I received a shock that first Sunday we went to church.  

It was an old WW2 vintage Quonset hut, you know the kind of barracks that you see in Gomer Pyle re-runs.  But this Quonset hut housed the Nanakuli Door of Faith Church.  I soon learned that church was a little different at the Door of Faith.  This was a small church, on a backstreet of Nanakuli, HI. On any given Sunday that Quonset hut you could find 3 or 4 ukuleles, a number of guitars, drums of various sorts, tambourines and lots of singing. Church lasted for literally hours. For this Presbyterian kid, who was accustomed to the worship of the frozen chosen, decently and in order, it was a shock. Contemporary Christian music is often criticized (unfairly in some respects) as being 7-11 music, seven words sung eleven times. Well, at the Nanakuli door faith church, one chorus could go on for 20 minutes! 

After church, we didn't move out the door and go home. We all gathered just outside under a tent, and we ate, and ate, and ate: poi, poke, kalua pig, lomi lomi salmon, haupia. We fed on truly joyful fellowship. They took this strange, skinny, pale kid from California, and invited me in. 

God was there. 

Later, when I was in college, after having looked into different faith perspectives, and after having tried to hide from my own darkness through the numbing effects of various substances, I found myself called back to church. I discovered New Song church. It was a bigger church than the Door Of Faith. It was ethnically very diverse, and united in spirit. With a huge choir and a fantastically talented worship leader, that church rocked. I rediscovered my faith, because God was there. 

When Carrie and I made our way to Princeton NJ, we first went to the pillar church in town. It had a beautiful sanctuary, big white classical columns, big organ, polished choir, and fantastic preaching. But we found it to be cold. Though it gave me a chance to schmooze many of my seminary professors, we decided to go to the much smaller Presbyterian church down the street, the one that had split off from the pillar church during the civil war. This church also had great preaching, and we felt welcomed, and invited to explore our faith and deal with our doubts. God was there.  

Later, we found a primarily traditional church, mid-size congregation: three hymns and a sermon (sometimes good, other times so-so). It was a loving community that took in a green student and nurtured him into a pastor in waiting. There was love and acceptance even by those whose perspectives and theology were very different from mine. God was there.  

God was there in each of these churches. And God's presence depended not upon the building, or the location, or the style of worship, or even the preacher. God was there simply because the doors and hearts of those who gathered were open.  

Thank God(!) that these churches were not like the disciples we find in our gospel story today.  

The gospel writer tells us specifically that they locked the doors.  On that Easter night, the voices were hushed. It was dark, and as the light from the candles cast shadows on the walls, the disciples hunkered down, and they hid in fear. 

Through their minds raced the memories of the last weeks when they had followed Jesus into the middle of the storm, the memories of his plunging ahead despite all of their warnings. Behind the forced conversation in that room were the memories of his arrest, and trial, and crucifixion.  

By the time that they had gathered together on this first Easter night, yes they had seen the empty tomb, and yes, Mary Magdalene had told them that she had seen Jesus alive and well. Still, they locked the doors and hid in fear, hoping that no one in town would know that they were there.  

They were afraid, you see, that they might be next. 

This story is John's version of the beginning of the church. This is the beginning of the community of faith through which God would change the world. But look at their beginnings! Look at our beginnings. 

The opening of this story is a picture of the church at its worst, closed up, concerned only with its own safety, fearful that they would be forced to go down the same road as Jesus.

Jesus has been preparing his disciples for his departure.  He has gone over and over his commandments to love one another, to be bold, to trust him, to be ready to follow him at all costs.  The crucifixion and return was no secret from the disciples.  They just didn't believe it.  Either that or they weren't paying attention.  No sooner had Jesus been killed and they retreated like frightened rabbits behind closed, bolted doors. 

This is the church of locked doors and locked hearts, closed by doubt, fear, and uncertainty. Here is a church with absolutely nothing going for it except for one thing: Jesus. When it gathered, in spite of its best efforts, the risen Christ pushed through the locked door, threw back the bolt, and stood among them. In spite of itself, Jesus comes to them and blesses them.  “They tried their best,” Jesus says, with a twinkle in his eye, “but they couldn't kill me…and they can't kill you either.” 

“Peace be with you my brothers and sisters,” he said to them. “You may think it's all over. You may think you are as good as dead. But God has raised me. Why don't you have little taste yourself of resurrection?” 

He breathed upon them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Your mission, he said, is not to stay in this room, but to throw open the doors and go outside with the good news, this is not the church of closed doors and locked hearts, this is the church of open arms and unlocked spirits. And they changed the world.  

You know, we like to make fun of the disciples sometimes. They were so thick. As we get to know them in the gospels, almost of every page they fall short in understanding or ability. And yet, how often are we so like them. 

How often, like the first disciples, faced with lives we hadn't expected, do we huddle together, afraid. If we are honest, we, at times, do a very good impression of the church of locked doors and locked hearts. We gather with people just like us and close the door to the stranger. We cling to familiar patterns and comforting words and hold on to one another as if for dear life. We keep looking back to fonder days instead of looking forward to new horizons. Eventually, we find the deadbolts locked, and the shutters drawn.  

I said earlier of the churches that have blessed me, “Thank God that those churches were not like the first church in our story.” Truth is, they were. Each of these churches had some doors that were locked. But Jesus pushes through them. These churches, like the first disciples, were open enough to hear Jesus invitation to receive peace, and to take an honest look at the house to see what doors were locked, what windows were painted shut, and then work on opening them.  

What about us? Are we willing, on this Sunday after Easter, to examine our locked doors and our locked hearts? Every person, and every church has them, and we do too.  

The story of the church can be summed up in this way: God shows us our locked doors. We protest and point fingers, and then eventually, Jesus turns the key to the open position. 

This is what happens with the controversial issues with which we struggled: the relationship between Jew and Gentile in the New Testament, Slavery, the ordination of women. 

Now we get into the nitty gritty, where the new pastor wants to tread lightly. (Be careful!) Access to this building, my friends, which is difficult for some, is a closed door. We need to do something about it. Is the fact that this project has taken so long a locked door? (Watch out!) Have past wounds, and bad experiences closed our hearts to new horizons? (uh oh). 

I pray you don't take this the wrong way. This is not about fault or responsibility. This is about an invitation to be sent, to find new discoveries and horizons. Friends, I came to this church because I sensed open doors. In the month since I have been here, this sense of openness has been confirmed over and over again. God is here. All I would like to suggest is that the fact that God is here doesn't mean that we don't have some doors that aren't locked, or windows that are painted shut.  

This morning we celebrate the good news that Jesus comes to us as he came to those first disciples, unhindered by the walls we build around ourselves to keep others away and ourselves safe, unstopped by the doors we lock because we don't know what's out there, unimpeded by the grief or fear that takes our breath away.  

Jesus comes as he always does, speaking peace. More than that-he comes breathing peace into our anxious hearts. It is the breath of the Holy Spirit. It is our second wind, the deep breathing we need in order to open our doors and taste a little bit of the resurrection in the here and now.

He unbinds us from the fear that haunts us, and from the pain and grief we have fallen in love with. He releases us from the shame and guilt that hold us captive, and even from the doubt and disbelief that keep us from entering God's future with hope. Jesus frees us in order that we might forgive and free others in his name. 

If you are a visitor this morning, or happen to be a Thomas, if there is doubt in your mind or heart, if this is a locked door for you, I am glad you are here. I want to affirm your doubting, your seeking. It is true, we are imperfect disciples here this morning. We cower behind our locked doors at times. But we serve a living savior, and this is a place where you can touch him. We know, because we have encountered him ourselves. 

Last Friday, we hosted this year's confirmation class for an overnight at our house. It was an eye-opening experience, or I should say, a “trying to keep your eyes open” experience as the night grew late. I have to say I had great time with them. It was wonderful, as we talked and had fun, to get to know these wonderful disciples who are about to unlock a new door in their faith. They have a long way to go in some ways, but I discovered that they had just the right faith for them. God is teaching them to unlock new doors when the time is right.  

As a church we are in the same place. We have just the right faith for us, at this moment in time, and yet God is also inviting us to unlock new doors of ministry and compassion because the time is right.  

No locked door could hold our savior back. How about us?

      Amen.  
 

April 15, 2007

Rev. Paul Heins

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah