Getting unstuck

A few weeks ago I participated in a community foot-washing service celebrating freedom and justice, and supporting comprehensive immigration reform creating a pathway to citizenship. Jesus is our role model in being active in social justice and advocacy and it felt so right to be there.

The words of San Diego Council President, Todd Gloria, and Dr. Delores Jacobs, touched a chord in our hearts at our Community Call to Prayer service as we prayed for marriage equality, meditated, sang and wrote prayers and put them on our Tree of Justice. We don’t know for sure what the U.S. Supreme Court is going to do – however, emotions are all over the place: anxiety, hopefulness, giddiness and fear – all we can do is wait – it’s like we’re in limbo – like we’re stuck.

Stuck is also a way to describe Mary Magdalene. Mary is on her way to the cemetery. She’s in a strange town, following a path that’s been zigzagging every which way – especially this past week. It’s dark when Mary starts out for the tomb, really more like Saturday night than Sunday morning. The darkness fits Mary’s mood. A few fleeting memories of the past – like that time when she witnessed Jesus’ miracle that fed the 5,000 still aren’t enough to lift her gloom. So, what do you do when your hero has died? Try to keep busy, I guess.

When Mary rounds the last corner, it feels like she’s taken a wrong turn. The tomb has no stone. She looks inside and finds it empty. Panic sets in. What’s happened to Jesus? A terrible Friday afternoon has suddenly turned into a long, agonizing Saturday night. And Mary is stuck!

Do you ever have feelings of being stuck? No job prospects, school’s not going well, family not getting along, the test results were scary, and your plans aren’t coming together like you thought they would.

Stuck is a Saturday sort of feeling. What do we do? Sometimes we grab a quart of ice cream or a bag of potato chips, curl up on the couch and watch old movies. Sometimes we do just the opposite. We get busy – study harder, dust off the resume, make an appointment to see the doctor.

But what do we do if we’re out of options – if we don’t have a plan B? If it feels like we’re stuck between waiting for a ruling on the validation of marriage being an option for you? Or the desperate need for immigration reform and a pathway to citizenship for so many contributing citizens. What do we do? We can pray. We can hope. We can encourage each other. “There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby … somewhere over the rainbow!”

Mary goes back to the garden and cries her eyes out. Someone who seems to be the gardener comes up behind her and whispers, “Mary.” It takes her breath away. “You’re here! You’re alive!” After getting over the shock – Mary throws her arms around Jesus – at least she tries to – and doesn’t want to let go. “Rabboni – Teacher,” she calls him. It’s an old familiar name. “Let’s go back to Galilee,” she’s saying, “It was so much better there.” But Jesus has other ideas: “Don’t cling to me, Mary. Easter has happened. We can’t go back to the way things were.”

Do you see where this story is going? Sometimes in life we get stuck. Hopes get dashed, dreams turn to nightmares, and disappointment sets in. We might have a plan B. We might not … at least not anything we can think of.

I’ve got good news for you. God is in the idea business. God has a way of coming to us when we least expect it – like for Mary in the garden. God has a way of dreaming up new possibilities. “The way out of the darkness,” God says, “is by trusting me. Resurrection is a movement toward the future.”

Well, guess what? It takes a lot of trust to leave the past behind. It’s especially hard when it’s dark outside and you can’t see where you’re going. This past month I’ve done more funerals than in a long time. There have been the deaths of family members and partners and loved ones – and it’s not easy.

In times like this, it feels that there is more darkness than light for us. It feels very personal. Something inside desperately wants to believe – needs to believe – that Jesus wasn’t simply victorious over death in some general sense, but that he is victorious over this death that’s so fresh for me.

The Easter story gets personal whenever Jesus comes and calls us by name. He shows up in the most ordinary circumstances; a woman crying in a garden, two men walking along a road, some fishermen out on a lake and a woman at a well. These appearances aren’t much to go on. They don’t prove anything. But somehow, for the people involved, they’re enough. Every time Jesus comes to people, they seem to become a little stronger, a little more hopeful. Every time he comes to them, they become a little more like him. And in one fearful, stuck, heart at a time, an Easter faith is born.

Let me share with you a personal story. After seminary, I was on a career path with the church I grew up in. I loved that church. It was all I knew. I was committed to God and the teachings of the church – except for the gnawing truth that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried, that I was a gay man. And being gay and Christian just didn’t work in that faith system. According to them, I was going to hell.

I knew it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped and I was going to be kicked out of the church I had been at for 10 years in Escondido. The office administrator told me about a mysterious phone call to my pastor, asking if I worked there and if she could speak privately to him. I had a strange feeling in my gut when the office administrator told me the pastor came out of his office after that phone call with a piece of paper asking where the paper shredder was. Later, that evening after choir rehearsal, I took the shreds of paper out and took them home with me and started to piece them together, just like in the movie Argo. I then found out that it was a friend from seminary in whom I had confided, and she felt it was her Christian duty to “out” me to the senior pastor. I knew I was going to fall, but I didn’t know how far it would be. I was scared. I was living in the dread – the waiting – the limbo – feeling stuck!

I had heard about a church called Metropolitan Community Church in a book I had read. So, I looked it up in the phone book, and sure enough, there was one in San Diego. I was so paranoid and fearful, that I drove to a carwash and went to a payphone to make the call so it couldn’t be traced – and made an appointment to see the pastor.

Rev. Tony listened to me, prayed with me and I started attending the Saturday Night Service here – then going back and leading worship on Sunday mornings in Escondido. Talk about being between two worlds! It was here, I heard of God’s love for me – as I was – and I knew it was real. And when I accepted that love and started living in it – no matter how difficult the time was for me – I had hope. I didn’t even see a future for me, but I had hope. All I knew was feeling lost, but I had hope. All I had worked for I felt was going to be gone, but I had hope. I felt like Mary coming to the empty tomb on Saturday night.

I’m forever grateful to God and MCC for catching me as I was falling. I’m so grateful that I heard Jesus whisper my name – that there was a future and a hope for me. And not only survive the devastation, but thrive! Since coming out, I’ve met the best people in the world, and am so honored and humbled to work in the most fabulous church in San Diego and be your pastor! At my lowest, God was with me through the love of this church. Praise God!

Easter faith is born one heart at a time. It takes trust to live an Easter faith in a Saturday sort of world. Saturday is the day between the tragedy of Friday and the victory of Sunday. On Saturday you might have to trust while waiting for a ruling. On Saturday you might experience waves of grief. On Saturday the nights are dark and the roads zigzag every which way. On Saturday it’s so easy to get lost. On Saturday if feels like there’s no more hope.

What do you do? You wait and you pray and you trust like crazy! If you’re feeling stuck, you might get up early and start for the tomb. And who knows, maybe when you least expect it – the Risen Christ will come to you and speak your name and say, “I’m alive.” Maybe say, “I want you to let go of those old tapes from your past – your fears and failures and disappointments – and follow me. I’m alive.” Maybe say, “I want to give you a future and a hope. Trust me. I love you. I’m alive.”

Amen.

Rev. Dan Koeshall is the senior pastor at The Metropolitan Community Church (The Met), 2633 Denver Street, San Diego, California, themetchurch.org. Services every Sunday at 9 and 11 a.m.