Creekside Church Sermon of March 20, 2005 "The Foundations of Faith: The Gift and the Giver" Matthew 21:1-11	Rev. David Bibbee
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It started happy, but it will not end happy. Sunshine will yield to shadows. Triumphant singing will dissipate into somber, contemplative hymns. Smiles will turn into lumps in the throat. The Lenten candles, symbols of the light and love that God's Son brought into the world, will be extinguished. In five days, the object of our praise -- our guest of honor, will be nailed to a cross and die.

Palm Sunday isn't religious theatre designed to manipulate our emotions, although it is an emotional roller coaster. Palm Sunday recalls the great expectations that people had of Jesus, and how, come Good Friday, those expectations blew away like dust in the wind.

I received my first Bible from my home church. The picture on the cover was of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem. He is perched on a spindly-legged little donkey. Cloaks cover the street before him. Palm branches, like long, green arms welcome him into the Holy city.

Images like this have given us the impression that Jesus' entry into Jerusalem was a highly orchestrated event on the order of, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. But it isn't likely that Main Street in Jerusalem was filled with thousands of admirers. The numbers were probably small. Some people had heard about Jesus and felt drawn to him, though they couldn't exactly say why. Most didn't know what the fuss was all about. For them, it was just something different to see and about which they could have cared less.

Years ago, I visited Glacier National Park in Montana. We stopped to buy groceries in a little town at the entrance to the park. While the others were in the store, I walked down the town's main street where I saw Jesus. He was coming toward me, carrying a big, wooden cross over his shoulder. It had a wheel on the end of the vertical beam for easier pulling. He looked the way we imagine Jesus looked with long hair and a beard. On his cross was a sign with Bible verses, and a few lines about the reason he was carrying his cross throughout the Western United States.

What struck me most, however, wasn't Jesus, or whatever his name was. It was the reactions to him. Some pointed and shook their heads. Some stared. An older couple came up to him, shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder. Most acted as though there was nothing unusual about a man carrying a cross through town. It seemed they were pretending not to see-- going about their business as if he wasn't there.

Had you been there the day Jesus rode into the Holy city on that silly-looking little donkey, you would have seen the same reactions. It was a parade for those who believed. Some were curious. Others looked on, but didn't care. For those with eyes to see it, what started happy wasn't going to end happy.

A bad ending meant a new beginning for my cousin, Larry. A teenage boy was killed in an auto accident, and his heart was stitched into Larry's chest. The transplant gave Larry three and a half good years of life. Not long as lives go, but long enough to do what he needed to do, and say what he needed to say. The parents of the young man whose heart Larry received attended the funeral. I imagine it was like losing their son a second time.

I wonder how it was for Larry. What was it like, feeling the heart of another person beating in his chest? After being in the hospital almost a year, waiting for a transplant, I can't imagine the gratitude Larry felt. But I wonder if the gift wasn't a burden, too. Did it occur to Larry that he would be responsible for his life, and the teenager who should have lived much longer?

People sometimes do profoundly selfless, acts on behalf of others. A woman sees a child going into the path of an oncoming car. The driver cannot react in time. Though the woman does not know the child, she shoves him out of harm's way and takes the fatal blow herself.

In Iraq, a grenade is lobbed into a barracks full of soldiers. One soldier makes a split-second decision and falls on the grenade, shielding the explosion. He absorbs the blast that disintegrates his body and saves the others.

Back in the early 80's, a passenger jet took off from Washington International Airport and crashed into the Potomac River. It was winter and large formations of ice clogged the river. Before the rescue squads arrived, a man jumped from his car, took off his coat and shoes, dove into the frigid water despite warnings from bystanders. He saved three people, but on the way back to rescue a fourth, the exhaustion from fighting the swift current and hypothermia overcame him, and he drowned.

Who bears the greater burden-those who sacrifice their lives, or those whose lives are spared? We were taught to look after ourselves. "Mind your business and leave others to mind theirs." When people do things for us we are indebted, and return the favor. "Don't go through life looking for handouts. Butter your own bread," we're told. It sounds odd, but if it were possible to know beforehand that a stranger was about to sacrifice her life for yours, would you try to talk her out of it?

If someone died in your place, it would be a tremendous burden because the life you live thereafter is not yours anymore. You will be under obligation to live their life, too. You can coast through life if coasting is all you are after. But having another life to consider means you are compelled to live with a measure of the same spirit with which the other died for you.

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish, but have eternal life (John 3:16). Lord knows they tried talking him out of it. Early in Peter's apprenticeship, Jesus foretold his death, but Peter told him to stop talking such foolishness. "No one will lay a hand on the Messiah." The disciples attempted to dissuade Jesus from going to Jerusalem not just out of concern for him. They also had their own skins to look after.

God so loved that world that he gave…. We are Christians … little Christs, Jesus imitators, disciples. His death two thousand years ago did something for us. Frederick Buechner says, "My debt to him is so great that the only way I can approach paying it is by living a life as brave and beautiful as his death." When Jesus died, life unlike any life the world had known was unleashed and has been on the loose ever since, bringing dead people to life and turning stogy, stingy people to generous people.

The things that matter most in life we do not concoct on command. The things that matter most we did not request, earn, nor deserve. The key word is, GIVEN. Beginning with love, all we have has been given to us by God. We can't just hand it back. We didn't ask Jesus to die for us, but he did. The life we live was given to us by him, which means we must live it the way He lived it.

In the month of May, we will have more to say about the Giver, the gifts, and what we give in return. Before anything else, giving isn't a financial issue. It is more than forking over money in response to an appeal. It's a matter of the heart before it's a matter of the pocketbook.

Now, picture yourself in a conference room at a hospital. A doctor consults with a mother, father, and their eight-year-old son, Nathan. The doctor turns to the boy and says, "Nathan, your sister Lucy is very sick and she needs your help. You have the same blood-type that she does, and it is very rare and very special. We want to borrow some of your blood to help Lucy get well. What do you say?"

Nathan stares out the window. His lower lip begins to protrude and tears gather in the corners of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and says to the doctor, "OK." The doctor leads him down the hallway and into the room where the transfusion process begins. Nathan cooperates every step of the way. When he is done, the nurse put a cookie and glass of orange juice before him. He lets out a sigh. The doctor has his back to Nathan. He reaches up and takes the doctor's hand. He turns, and in a brave, soft voice, Nathan asks, "How long before I die?" Immediately the doctor realizes that Nathan thought giving his blood meant giving his life.

God so loved that world that Jesus entered Jerusalem to palm-waving acclaim. God so loved the world that his son entered the darkness, and for the sake of love, did not turn back. God so loved the world that he gave his son over to death that we would believe in him, and not perish, and have life eternal. God so loved the world, and still so loves it, that Jesus comes down the dusty road again, so we can offer our hosannas for the life he lives in ours.

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