Sermon 4/25/21: "Lay Down Your Cards" Pr. Craig Mueller

April 25, 2021

Fourth Sunday of Easter

John 10:11-18

Pr. Craig Mueller

Lay Down Your Cards

I don’t play poker. It’s been a long time since I’ve played any card game, actually. But I learned that in poker, there is some debate whether or not to show your hand—to lay down your cards— at the end of the hand.

I do remember a very different experience of laying down my cards. It was an exercise in reflecting on one’s personal values. I had ten strips of paper in my hand—ten things most important to me in life, everything from work to marriage to nature and other values or experiences I love. I was asked to imagine which card—which value—I would be willing to part with first. And to lay a “card” on the table, one at a time. Laying down the last three value cards was very emotional. Imagining living without them.

Reminds me of the Buddhist concept of impermanence. Nothing lasts forever.

The gospel of John shows its cards from the very beginning. Jesus—Word made flesh—lays down his life for us that he may take it up again. Jesus dying and rising and sending the Spirit—not only in the first century, but in and among us today.

Jesus as good shepherd reveals a God who desires to be known, and desires to know us. “I know my own and my own know me.”

The New York Times had a special section last Sunday in which people reflected on what happened to them in the pandemic the past year. How they and we have had to lay down so many things dear to us. Living closer than ever to life’s deepest questions. It’s been a kind of collective near-death experience, at least for those lucky enough to survive. And an awakening, a birth, a transformation is beginning to emerge.

Mary Fugate is 31 and writes that she lived most of 2020 dying for human interaction. From her front porch she noticed many different kinds of birds. She downloaded an app to learn their songs. The birds became her friends. Her mourning dove would always sing between 7 and 11am.

Then in the summer her sister was hospitalized with a cancerous cyst. Though they were estranged, Mary offered to go stay with her sister in New Mexico. Like all of us, Mary had her own personal issues she was dealing with. But as she drove across the country, she had a revelation. “I’m the girl, who despite all challenges, will drive across the country in a pandemic to be with the people she loves most.” A laying down of her life, if you will, for another.

Diagnosed with PTSD, for Mary even wearing a mask was triggering. If she was terrified to leave her house for groceries, how would she drive across the country? Yet spending ten hours a day in the hospital with her sister became a kind of meditation. I can do these things for people I love, she said to herself.

When Mary returned to the loneliness and emptiness of her apartment, she decided to move home to her parents. As she drove around her neighborhood one last time and started driving out of the city, she wept. Like laying value cards on the table one by one, she grieved the future she thought she would have. She grieved not being able to tough it out and stay. She grieved the loss of her independence.

On one of her first days with her parents, Mary heard a mourning dove and again started to cry. Even in a different location, the song was familiar. Though Mary doesn’t know who she is becoming, she knows she can’t go back to a “before.” She has changed. Her values have shifted. Now she finds herself excited about getting ready for baby ducks on the farm in the spring. The slower pace is a comfort.

There are parts of 2020 Mary never wants to talk about. She was afraid she would lose her sister and times she might lose herself. Yet she is now able to see that a transformation is emerging that could not have happened without laying down her old life as knew it. For the sake of love. For the sake of another. For the sake of a new beginning.

Who would have thought the horrific sight of a white police officer laying his knee on the neck of an African American would birth an awakening? George Floyd did not lay down his life willingly, but many hope this moment is a pivot in criminal justice and police reform, as our nations continues to face the racism built into all of our systems and institutions.

As we imagine a hybrid church—folks both online and in-person—this is a time of opportunity for the church. Our migration to You Tube and HTUnmuted is part of this transition.

The same is true for the Lakeview Lutheran Parish. What do we need to lay down in order to have a stronger witness—together—in this community? How can shared online ministries and shared staff help us avoid duplication, and use our limited resources more wisely?

In the aftermath of Earth Day, how can we lay down our lives—take radical steps for change—for the sake of mother earth, for the sake of generations still to come?

Amid danger, the good shepherd lays down his life for the ones entrusted to him. That they—that we—that all of us—may know fullness of life. And that includes the “other sheep”, whoever they are in our time. Our God desires to bring them to the fold as well. The gospel enables us to lay down our lives, lay down our smugness, lay down our disdain for those who think differently than we do. For the sake of those outside the fold. For the sake of the common good.

Lay or lie. It’s a grammatical conundrum. You lay down a card. You lie down on a couch. Certainly, we are called to lay down our lives for the sake of others. To lay down our cards, so to speak—to make our intentions known—that is, to live our baptismal faith not only through words but deeds. But sometimes we just want to give up, to lie down and cover up.

In such troubled times, Psalm 23 reminds of God’s tender care. We lie down in green pastures. We rest beside still waters. We hear the song of birds. We marvel at buds and shoots, blooms and flowers. The earth restores us. Before we rise and face the daunting tasks before us, lie down. Lie down and bask in divine grace and mercy.

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Mary Fulgate, “You do what you need to do for the people you love.” New York Times, Sunday 18 April 2021. Special Section: Transformation: How the pandemic birthed an awakening for many Americans.