A Word from Chris

		The first thing you noticed, upon entering the house, was the smell. Mold, must, mildew. The air was heavy with seven months of silence and sadness. There, just a few hundred feet from the sea wall in Galveston, the waters had risen four feet during the hurricane. The walls couldn’t keep it out. We were there to strip them back to the studs – back to where they started – letting go of moldy yesterday and giving way to a hopeful tomorrow. We never met the owners. Instead, we encountered bits and pieces of their lives – an old driver’s license, a birthday card, a stack of calendars, a list of phone numbers, a box of Rice-a-Roni, a wedding dress. Frozen in time, locked in yesterday, witnessing more to what was than what could be, it was a ghostly place.
Above the water line, but still weathered by years and weathered by the weather, a light switch held out a prayer for the place – “God Bless our Home.” The prayer would not go unanswered. In the room where the disciples gathered in Luke 24:36-48, it smelled a bit like yesterday, too – the air heavy with sadness and fear. There on that first Easter Sunday – while Jesus was busy knocking over gravestones – they hid behind walls. The preceding days had overwhelmed them – they were deluged with doubt and despair. The rumor had reached them – that his body was not in the tomb – that some women had seen strange visions – that travelers on the road to Emmaus had walked in his presence unawares. But still they shut themselves away…talking, and talking, and talking to themselves…as if they thought that finding the right words would solve everything. (Maybe they were Presbyterians.) Through it all, they prayed for hope, and their prayer would not go unanswered. Suddenly, their walls – their safe and sturdy walls – failed them. No door swung open, no curtains rustled from a newfound breeze. Who knows how long he had been standing there, waiting for them to notice. The scripture only says that he appeared “while they were talking,” and you know how hard it is to notice that things have changed when we talk too much. Maybe the smell shifted – maybe they noticed the scent of tomorrow breaking through the mustiness of yesterday. Somehow they finally stopped talking and saw him. But still they were afraid. As they looked to the Risen Christ – they thought they were seeing a ghost. Somehow I wonder if Jesus thought the same thing as he looked at them. He had died, yes…but they were the ones bound to a building. “Look at my hands” he said to them – “Look at my feet.” Stretching out his hands they saw the nail prints. But the nails really were yesterday’s news – and not what he wanted them to focus on. Perhaps their eyes, fuzzy with fear, failed to notice that he was pointing away from himself and to them…to their hands and feet. Still bewildered, Jesus offers them an object lesson. “Got any fish?” he asks them. Incredulously, they hand him a bite to eat. They had just been talking about Jesus breaking bread on the Emmaus Road…and now here he was eating fish. Bread and fish? Bread and fish, hmmm… perhaps he was reminding them of the multitudes that needed feeding – perhaps he was nudging them to remember his call to hospitality – perhaps he was hungry after a long day of rising. And when he saw that they were still confused and afraid – he turned to Bible study. He shared with them bits and pieces of the story – slavery in Egypt, waters parting, prophets calling, dove descending, hands reaching, truth telling, powers trembling. He opened the scriptures in order to open their hearts – and not just so that they could talk to themselves some more, but to remind them that they are called to be witnesses. Sometimes, well, let’s be honest, most of the time we need the same reminder. The church – the body of Christ is not a ghost. Ghosts are bound to things…houses, chains, tombs, buildings…we are not ghosts, we must not be bound to anything, but live freely in the world as Christ’s hands and feet. So many of our churches are frozen in time, locked in yesterday, witnessing more to what was than what could be – ghostly places. Christ comes, pointing to us and calling us to open ourselves. There are multitudes to feed – there is truth to be told – there are walls to knock away – there are barriers to be lifted. Sometimes, we have to face down our weathered walls, and strip them back to the studs – back to where they started – letting go of moldy yesterday and giving way to a hopeful tomorrow. When our world wants to know about the Risen Christ – when our world wants to know what Resurrection looks like – they do not look at our lovely buildings, they do not look at our pretty faces, or eager eyes – they look instead to our hands and feet. Are we ghosts – with hands and feet that simply go through the motions, bound to old ways and old things? Or are we the Risen Body of Christ – with hands that reach out with compassion, that knock down walls and roll away gravestones? Are we a living witness of the Living One – with feet that fly into the world with good news, that walk boldly into hopeless situations with Hope and help and healing?
Above it all, though weathered by the world, Christ’s prayer – “Peace be with you” – still lingers as a light in the darkness. It is a prayer that will not go unanswered. Look at your hands and feet and see that they are hands of the Body of Christ – risen from the dead. We are witnesses – and we have more rising to do. Chris Shelton		Frank, Carolyn, and Chris Shelton