“The Work of Disciples”

Fourth Sunday of Easter

May 11, 2025

“People will always remember how you make them feel.” Maya Angelou

Acts 9:36-43

John 10:22-30

Children’s Message:

Have kids turn their backs to the congregation.

I’m going to have people, maybe your parents, say, “God loves you.” If you recognize your parent’s voice, raise your hand.

So, how did you know whose voice it was? Yes, you hear your parents’ voices every day. Is that because you follow them around, waiting for them to speak to you? No. It’s because you live together. You spend time together. They’re job is to love you and protect of you and, generally, keep you alive for the first 18 years of your life. That requires a fair bit of talking—and yelling, and begging, and crying. And I bet you know what your parents sound like when that happens, too.

Do you ever tune them out? Stop listening? Drown them out with music? Me too. Even now. But I bet that I can still recognize the sound of my mom clearing her throat in a large store from 100 yards away. Can’t help it.

Jesus says that he knows his sheep. He’s in relationships with his followers. And because of that, they know his voice. And they trust his voice. And so they feel comfortable following his voice. Just like a child looking for their parent. You follow their voice until you find them.

Let’s pray. Dear God, help us hear your voice and follow you. Amen.

Message:

Today’s story from Acts kind of bothers me. Tabitha—aka, Dorcas—has died. She was a woman of means. She tended and cared for the widows in her community. She is the only woman in Scripture identified specifically as a disciple. The widows wash her body, and instead of immediately burying her, they have her moved to an upper room of the house. And then they send for Peter.

Peter was about 10 miles away in Lydda. According to Acts, he had just healed a man who was paralyzed by saying to him, “Aeneas, Jesus Christ heals you; get up and make your bed!” And Aeneas got up, to everyone’s amazement. And those who saw this believed and began following the way of Christ.

Aeneas hadn’t done anything specific to deserve Peter’s attention. He was just there and needed help. Then we turn to Tabitha in Joppa. When Peter arrives, the widows tell him all about Tabitha—how she has served them, the clothing she made, the work she did. He had them all leave the room and turned to Tabitha saying, “Tabitha, get up.” And she got up, revived and restored.

What bothers me, I suppose, is that it is far too easy to hear this story and presume that her work made her worthy of this miracle. Clearly, Tabitha was special. A disciple. A servant. One who will certainly be missed greatly among those who relied on her. As the widows showed Peter all that she had done, I can hear their words of despair, “What will we do without her?”

It gives a sense that the work and the service are linked to worthiness. That without Tabitha, there will be no one left to help the widows. And maybe that’s true. But her restoration to life won’t change that. It reeks to me of an unhealthy system—one that relies on Tabitha’s over-functioning to the detriment of all who depend on her. Where is everyone else? Where are the other disciples—the other women? Why has it fallen on Tabitha to the point that her loss will seem to implode the whole system of faithful service? Why is she carrying the load?

So, I suppose part of the reason this story bothers me is because when I read it, it seems like the widows love her and are sorry for her loss because of what she did, not who she was. Those who were served mourned the loss of the service, not the loss of the person.

But then again, what Tabitha did is a testimony to who she was. She was a disciple. She was someone who followed Jesus. And because of that, she was a servant. She was someone who helped the vulnerable. She was someone who clothed and probably housed the widows in her community. She was a light in a dark place. So of course they mourned her—not just because of what she provided but because of who she was. Because of her love and her faithfulness. It wasn’t just what she did but how she made them feel. She made them feel worthy and loved and valuable.

Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.”

This past week, Pastor Otto posted on Facebook the following:

“It makes me smile to think that not everyone would be comfortable in a church like ours. On any given Sunday, diverse people might be serving publicly in many ways. There are ushers from the LGBTQ community, youth at the sound board, someone with Down’s Syndrome serving communion, current and previously incarcerated individuals reading prayers, and people in addiction recovery greeting newcomers.

I may be mistaken. Maybe everyone would be comfortable since you can’t tell who is who, just by looking at them. I’m an old traditional white guy. It took some time to get to know these people as people like me. Together we try to walk with Christ and neighbor healing brokenness together. And that’s actually what makes me smile”

He forgot that we’ve also got a female pastor—and that would also cause some people discomfort. But what we get right, I hope, is that we are a place where everyone knows they are welcome and valuable. That we model and practice imperfection and don’t expect perfect. We just keep practicing to make progress. That, while we are engaged in some pretty important ministries—from quilt-making to local justice advocacy—our value isn’t just about what we do. It’s about who we are—people of God. Being people of a loving God means that we are called to be loving people. And loving people impacts how we treat people—how we make them feel.

I’ve often heard people in my profession ask: “If your church closed today, would anyone miss you?” Would your community miss you? Would your neighborhood miss you? Would those who grew up here miss you? I believe I can faithfully and unequivocally say, “Yes.” Not just because of what we do, but because of who we are. Thank you for being you.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE