Resurrection – Present Day

This last week, Resurrection was evident in the labor of love that put in the first of 30 vegetable beds at St. Francis.  Work began early with Barbara opening the gates and unlocking the church.  By 9:00 a.m. we had several members — Joseph, William, and yours truly — laying out the chicken wire to prevent gophers dining on our new plants.  Miguel, our paid farmer, was also on the job.

We had approximately nine beds laid out by the time the first truck arrived from Burrtec with 30 cubic yards of mulch that Christopher had arranged for free.   The aromatic odor wafting across the field of woodchips was definitely the smell of Resurrection.  Wonderful to sniff.

We ended with a break for pizza that Barbara provided with some delicious root beer and Pepsi.  And the satisfaction of having done a righteous deed.

As I previously mentioned.  A great Anglican divine once wrote that if Resurrection was only a one-off historical curiosity, it would have been of minor significance – UNLESS it is lived as a daily reality, Christ raised in our hearts and minds.  And I would add, also in our date books, wallets and credit cards.  And in the voting booths.  Yes, let us pray for the insight and wisdom to notice Resurrection as a daily event in our lives.

Saul, bent on destruction of the incipient Jesus Movement, breathing threats as he heads to Damascus, is struck down.  “Suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him.  He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’”  Saul, raised from the ground, welcomed into the home of some of Jesus’ followers becomes a new man, Paul.  Raised from the deadened life of hatred.  Resurrection to be sure!

Resurrection is vibrantly alive in the daily work of those in recovery.  Arlie Hochschild, in her new book, Stolen Pride, has some marvelous stories of how some in Appalachia have discovered Resurrection in lives ruined by poverty, despair and drugs.[1]

James had just arrived in an emergency room after his fourth heroin overdose.  His sister Ashley, a student at the University of Tennessee, after three calls from a hospital, dreaded that next call would be “the call – James is dead.”[2]

It wasn’t too long before James’ sister’s worst fear came true. One day she received a call from the paramedics.  James had been found without a heartbeat.  After some effort with CPR the paramedics brought him back.

First, Ashley just sobbed.  Then she realized she had to do something. “I took a breath, got online and spoke to James: ‘James, are you ready this time?’”[3]

Yes, he was ready.  Ashley had found the best recovery program in eastern Kentucky, Southgate.  And while they usually only accepted clients referred through the criminal-justice system, they made an exception for James.  Ashley got the costs covered by a special grant.  There, James bonded with one of the counselors over their love of punk rock bands. 

There, James hit rock bottom.  Soon after arrival, he was sitting out in the yard feeling sorry for himself – that his life had gone nowhere, that he had lost everything, that he had messed up his family and had no self-respect left.

As he sat on a bench, he noticed at his feet a line of ants.  They were scurrying along, carrying bits of food, grains of sand.  He noticed one ant carrying a dead ant.  The light went on.  That dead ant being carried was him.

James understood in a flash that his counselor, Tom Ratliff “became the carrier ant willing to carry the dead – or nearly dead – ant, me.  The man saved my life.”[4]  Resurrection!  Fresh from the grave.

Through this program, James became alive to his own emotions, feelings he had stuffed and buried through drugs.  Shame and pride.

He inwardly made the decision to work at his recovery, no matter the pain of realizing what he had lost – because the vision of what he had to gain was so alluring, so life-giving.  That is Resurrection becoming reality.

James, looking at that line of ants had made the decision to be a carrier ant.  He no longer wanted to be carried as a dead, desiccated man.  Resurrection!

Through the stuff of ordinary life, beautiful sunrises, gardens, family, the daily work given to our hearts and minds, lies Resurrection joy and possibility.  Within our very selves we have all the makings of a miracle.

Cassie Chambers – It’s the family name of a most wonderful, extended family throughout Appalachia, one of whose shirt-tail members runs the little market in Bethany, Chambers General Store, just down the road from the Forney Family Farm we now own – and did I mention the most wonderful sandwiches Mr. Chambers makes while you wait.  I even dreamed the other night of standing in front of the refrigerated case of cheeses and meats ordering my favorite bologna sandwich with lettuce, tomato, Swiss cheese, mustard and mayo. And make those slices of bologna extra thick, Bob.  Total delight – a veritable taste of Resurrection.

But I digress.  Cassie Chambers, in her book, Hill Women,[5] tells of one of the influencers in her life.  In the midst of the poverty of Owsley County, Kentucky, in which she grew up, there was always Granny.  And family.

Cassie tells the story of sitting one evening and watching TV in the living room, and the importance of family just being together.

Her father, Orlando, wanted to watch a University of Kentucky basketball game.  Her mother, Wilma, not that interested in sports, tried to get Granny to go watch a movie in another room.

“Granny, a serious look in her eye, scolded her, ‘Orlando has been at work all day.  I’m goin’ to sit right here and spend time with him.  I reckon you best do the same.’   Granny and Wilma joined Orlando to watch the game.  Granny didn’t know anything about basketball, but she cheered enthusiastically.  It was a particularly physical game; at one point she jumped from her seat and shouted with venom, ‘you ain’t nothin’ but a big bully – take your tail end home.’  My parents looked at each other in shock.”[6]

The joy of family – a small moment of Resurrection.  The same delight and pride I took in our son Christopher as he reported on his efforts to repair a drawer at his unit in the triplex my brother had left me in Loma Linda.  A tiny spark of Resurrection joy.

With eyes to see and ears to hear, Resurrection’s all around.  In the Risen Christ I continue to believe that I can make a difference.  I can be a carrier ant.  WE can make a difference – we ARE making a difference – carrier ants.  Resurrection is awakened gratitude for the new life that blooms all about each day.

I opened the paper and noticed an article in the New York Times on the disastrous, chaotic, corrupt first 100 days of this presidency.  More about that in sermons to come, in letters to the editor to come.  But I had an overwhelming sense of joy for the reporters, for their truth-telling.  That truth come to light is Resurrection.

As I look towards my next trip to West Virginia, I drool as I think of my bologna sandwich purchased at the counter of Chambers General Store.  A small bit of Resurrection delight. 

With that sort of nourishment, fueled with coffee, and in the Risen Christ, we go forth with the audacity to believe that today and tomorrow, we can make a difference – carrier ants.  St. Francis folk, how does your garden grow?  Wonderfully well, with peas and carrots, kale and lettuce, plums, tomatoes and peaches  – wonderfully well.  Let it be ever so. The smell of Resurrection.  Amen.

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[1] Arlie Russell Hochschild, Stolen Pride: Loss, Shame, and the Rise of the Right (New York: the New Press, 2024).

[2] Op cit., 147.

[3] Op cit., 148.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Cassie Chambers, Hill Women: Finding Family and a Way Forward in the Appalachian Mountains (New York: Ballantine Books, 2020).

[6] Op Cit., 83.

May 4, 2025
Easter 3

Acts 9:1-20; Psalm 30;

Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

“Resurrection – Present Day”