From the Pulpit Oakridge Bible Chapel

Sometimes it’s hard to say “thank you.” Perhaps it’s because we’re embarrassed to admit our dependance and neediness. Maybe we simply get distracted and forget to express the appropriate appreciation. It could be that we don’t say “thank you” because we fail to understand the effort that was involved in the care we received. Maybe we assume that saying it too much dampens the authenticity of our thanks. Or perhaps it’s because we have bitterness in our hearts toward the person that served us.

Interestingly, those same reasons can also create barriers to expressing our gratitude to God—we don’t want to admit we need him as much as we do, we get preoccupied with life, we don’t comprehend the extent of his care, we want to avoid mindless repetition, or we are angry because we think he has failed us in the past.

Sometimes it’s hard to say “thank you” to God but Psalm 136 is going to make it easier.

Our world is not at peace. Over one hundred wars are currently being fought around the globe with thousands of casualties in dozens of countries. There is tension within our own country around immigration and taxation, ideology and poverty, politics and economics. Many homes are battlefields characterized by abuse, neglect, betrayal, debt, selfishness, and neediness. And then there are personal fights with addiction, loneliness, guilt, shame, sadness, failure, illness, aging, self-loathing, and self-doubt. Christians knowingly add the reality of spiritual warfare to the mix, the invisible struggle that ceaselessly rages around us and in us. Our world is not at peace … but we can be. Like a boat with a strong anchor, a tree with deep roots, or a house with a sure foundation, God’s people can have rock-solid peace in an otherwise peaceless world. And Psalm 122 is going to show us how.

The Gospel writer, Luke, concludes his account of the discovery of Jesus’s empty tomb with these words: “Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings only; and he went away to his home, marvelling at what had happened” (24:12). This disciple was amazed, befuddled, and overwhelmed. His head was doubtlessly spinning with questions about what had just happened, the implications of what had just happened, and thoughts of what was about to happen because of what had just happened. “Could it be? Is my Lord actually alive?!”

Today we want to join Peter in marvelling at the reality of the empty tomb. Without risk of exaggeration it can be said that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the single most earth-shaking, reality-defining, hope-providing, and response-demanding event in human history. Why is this so? Well, because the tomb was empty …

This morning we have walked with the Lord Jesus up to Calvary’s mount. Beginning with the prophets who predicted the coming of one who would endure agony in the place of those who actually deserve it, we then followed this Suffering Servant into the Upper Room where his inevitable death was commemorated in a meal, one which we then shared in remembrance of his sacrifice. We then followed Jesus from the fellowship of the last supper to the loneliness of the garden to the sting of his betrayal to the corruption of his trials and, finally, to the horrific injustice and brutality of his crucifixion.

Jesus did all of that for you and for me. Jesus left the glories of his heavenly throne room, condescending to take on suffocating flesh for you and for me. Jesus was mocked, hated, attacked, and rejected by the very people he came to save for you and for me. Why? And how are we to respond?

The Bible exhorts us to strive for peace, so far it depends on us (Romans 12,18). Sometimes we find ourselves in a situation where we offended, hurt or willfully sinned against someone else, where we need to apologize. Both apologies and forgiveness start in the hart, where a change of heart is needed for the offender, and the heart of the offended needs to be moved (that is what compassion is). Yet, how can we be sure that the words spoken as an apology reflect a change of heart and show true repentance? And does forgiveness depend on the depth of our repentance? In the parable of the Prodigal Son the Lord Jesus speaks to these questions in the context of sinners who repent and turn to God, with some practical applications for apologies and forgiveness between people.

Psalm 119 is a celebration of God’s word, its nature and purpose, its power and perfection, its necessity, sufficiency, reliability, and veracity. The Hebrew word for law, torah, is used thirty-six times in the Psalms, twenty-five of which are found in this particular Psalm. Add to that the many synonyms the author employs—God’s word, ways, testimonies, precepts, statutes, commandments, and judgements—and God’s word is explicitly mentioned 178 times in its 176 verses.

And while one might expect that a passage about God’s word would include a call to obey God’s word, there isn’t one. Instead, readers are given a model to obey not a command to obey. The psalmist, throughout this lengthy acrostic poem, presents himself, not as one in grim, slavish obligation to God’s law, but as one who loves and delights in God’s law, inviting all of God’s people to join him in his resolution to walk in God’s way.