We might feel like hiding in fear, but God is calling us to step out of the cave and out of the boat for the sake of our neighbors, to bring Christ, in us, to the world.

Vicar Kelly Sandin
The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 19, year A
Texts: Matthew 14:22-33, 1 Kings 19:9-18

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

We learn to fear through our life experiences, and each one of us has a different story. And while we all have fears, we try to hide them from most everyone. Being vulnerable doesn’t happen much in our society. This is why I take great comfort in the characters of the Bible. This basic human condition of being afraid isn’t kept hidden, but is openly shared throughout its pages.

In fact, fear is the first human emotion mentioned in Genesis. Adam and Eve were pretty happy go lucky until they ate from the Tree of Knowledge. Then, everything changed. After doing that God called out, “Where are you?” And Adam replied, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid…so I hid myself.”

I relate to this theme of fear because it’s not new to me. For much of my life I’ve been followed by a shadow of fear in one form or another. Fear of failure. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of being ridiculed. Fear of an accident. Fear my child will be harmed. Fear of standing before all of you with the task of speaking a word from God. And then, there are all the other fears I have from simply living in the world today.

And do you know what Jesus says to that? “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” More precisely, “Be courageous because I AM present. Do not fear.” I’m with you always.

The disciples had a great amount of fear in our gospel story today, but this isn’t the first terrifying boat and storm scene in the gospel of Matthew. There seems to be a progression of learning experiences Jesus puts his disciples through to get them to realize that following him wasn’t going to be smooth sailing and they were going to need some practice to work through their fears and gain trust in him.

The first time this happens, the disciples follow Jesus into a boat. In this scene there was an incredible storm. The boat was being filled with water and the disciples were panicking. Meanwhile, Jesus was fast asleep! “Lord, save us!” they cried. And Jesus responded with a simple question, “Why are you afraid?” Can you see Jesus slightly shaking his head and saying, “Look, I AM right here in this boat with you.” But, Jesus calmed the storm and the disciples were completely amazed by this. And they began to wonder who this Jesus really was.

Fast forward to this morning’s lesson. This time Jesus makes the disciples get into the boat without him and their boat gets battered by the waves or, better translated, tormented by the waves. But, interestingly, the disciples aren’t described as being afraid of the storm. Perhaps they already worked through this fear. In this scene, though, Jesus isn’t asleep during the storm. He’s up the mountain praying, but awake, and fully aware of where his disciples are and what they’re going through, like watching your kids from afar, ready to step in, if needed, but wanting to see how they’ll handle things when the playground gets a little rough.

And then, at about three or four in the morning, Jesus decides to walk toward them on water. Certainly not something you see every day! And even scarier in the dark! But Jesus seems to keep pushing the discipleship envelope. So, of course, they cry out in fear.

And what does Jesus say, “Be courageous because I AM present. Do not be afraid.”

And I love Peter’s response. He’s bold. He knows after all he’s experienced with Jesus, all the miracles he witnessed, that if it is, in fact, Jesus, he could do anything with his help. He wanted to trust. He wanted to believe. He wanted to be more courageous with his life. And so, Peter wasn’t testing Jesus as much as he was begging Jesus to command him to do something that he knew he would never do or could not do on his own.

If you think about who you are today, was there someone who encouraged you or inspired you or believed in you to do more than you ever thought you could? And with them in your life, you gained confidence. You stepped outside your comfort zone. You tested the waters and found out you could do it, and with them in your life, you did.

Jesus was that person for Peter. His life was changed the day Jesus walked along the shore and saw something in Peter that made him say, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

In the time spent with Jesus, Peter gained confidence and started believing in himself and knew if he tapped into Jesus’ power there would no limit to what he could do next. So, what Peter was asking Jesus might have been more like “Lord, I really want to be more than I am right now. Please help me to live into the potential you have for me and command me to come to you.”

The drive in Peter to overcome was greater than his fear. And, although things didn’t go perfectly, Peter learned that when his fear got the best of him, Jesus’ hand was right there to catch him and pull him back up.

These experiences helped shape the disciples for their future life without Jesus. A life that promised to be filled with persecutions and fears they had yet to encounter. So, they had to go through these discipleship challenges with Jesus in order to move from the place of simply wondering who Jesus was, to making the claim that Jesus was, indeed, the Son of God. If Jesus could get them to proclaim that he was the Messiah, like Peter eventually did, then maybe their fears wouldn’t paralyze them from the work God was calling them to do and calling us to do.

Because right now, beyond the shadow of my own personal fears, the media coverage every single day brings me great fear. We live in a world full of violence and hate. But, I am also frightened and shocked at what’s happening in our own country, like what took place yesterday in Charlottesville, VA. And I’m still coming to terms with the bombing of the Dar Al Farooq mosque a half mile from my house. This hate and disregard for human life is in my neighborhood and in yours. We need to come together in solidarity to confront evil with our collective love. God will be with us. It takes courage, but imagine the fear of the specific groups being targeted regularly. We, as God’s people, are called to work for justice and peace – to carry out the disciples’ mission. We might feel like hiding in a cave like Elijah or in the garden, like Adam and Eve, but hiding in fear will not end it. God is calling us to step out of the cave and out of the boat for the sake of our neighbors. To come forward one frightened step at a time, being seen, in numbers, and bring Christ, in us, to the world.

Let us end in the prayer that seems perfect for today and one I’ve come to love.

“O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”      (ELW, page 317, from Vespers)

 

 

It is enough for the healing of this world when God and we work together; then miracles happen in God’s divine grace and our human partnership.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 18, year A
   Texts: Matthew 14:13-21; Isaiah 55:1-5

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

The crowd was overwhelming.

We’ve heard 5,000. That’s a lot. But Matthew very clearly counts 5,000 men, apart from women and children. If there were at least as many women as men, if half the people brought one child, both conservative guesses, there were at least 15,000 people fed that day. 15,000 people among whom Jesus walked and healed and blessed. 15,000 people with deep needs, in poverty, struggling with illness, suffering under oppression.

Overwhelming might be an understatement.

And it feels familiar. Millions suffer in our world, close by in our city and nation and far away on the other side of this planet. Oppression, war, violence, racism, sexism, all the systemic things people do that harm and kill others. Starvation, loss of home and life from climate change, poverty, homelessness, inequal distribution of resources, all the particular sufferings that afflict the creation and all within it. It’s hard to know where to begin, or if our puny efforts do anything. Overwhelming is an understatement.

Overwhelming is our link to this story. What happened in this encounter between overwhelming need and Christ and his followers offers hope when we, too, face overwhelming need and recognize that we, too, are Christ’s followers.

The ultimate hope we have, the ultimate plan of God, is that the world, like the crowds, is fed, satisfied, whole.

Not just for a day. But for good. God has entered the world to fill it with steadfast, sure love, as the prophet says today, the only thing that really satisfies. A few verses later, we’re promised that God’s Word will always do what God wants it to do. So God plans on bringing healing to this world, not just for one meal, but true healing, justice, and peace for this creation. And God will accomplish this.

But what we learn in this story of bread and fish and thousands of needy is how this healing will be accomplished. We learn it will not be enough, the healing will not satisfy, until we understand and live out what Jesus is trying to teach the disciples today. If we understand how God’s Word does what God needs.

Our first learning begins by hearing what Jesus tells the disciples.

The disciples, facing massive, hungry crowds, and the end of a long day, ask Jesus to send them away for food. Instead, Jesus says, “you give them something to eat.”

The disciples weren’t out of line. They had tiny resources, two fish and five loaves. There were thousands in need. It was reasonable to send them away.

Sometimes we look at our meager resources and at the overwhelming problems of the world and also think, “they should really go somewhere else.” But Jesus says, “you give them something to eat”. It’s our problem to solve.

God didn’t come into this world in Christ to heal it by being a divine vending machine, solving all problems. Jesus did miracles out of compassion. But his mission was to draw all people into God’s life, into the role of Christ, so the people of the world help solve the problems of the world.

God isn’t satisfied, it isn’t enough, fixing all things for us.

To be fair, the disciples didn’t ask Jesus to feed the crowds. But too often the Church sees the overwhelming problems of the world, sits on our collective hands, and says, “God, do something.”

People look at the world’s problems and conclude either God isn’t loving or God doesn’t exist. Rarely do they consider a third option: God exists, and God is loving, but God wants us to be a part of the healing of this world.

Jesus desires that all his followers become Christ for the healing of the world. It’s how all will be reached, and how Christ’s followers grow into who we’re meant to be. Popping something out of the divine vending machine at each crisis might miraculously fix all things. But God’s people won’t become who God dreams.

God knows we have all we need to feed and house everyone, end war and violence, build a just society. God needs our hands and wisdom and strength to use what we have been given to heal the world, and become who we are meant to be.

Nothing less will satisfy God.

But sometimes we have the opposite problem. We get out into the crowds and forget that Christ is still with us.

Sometimes we act as if solving all of the world’s problems is our burden alone. We don’t take it to Jesus, like the disciples did.

In the past half-century or more the Church has done a remarkable turn-around, taking on God’s core issues of justice and peace for all. We’ve moved from a view of church that exists solely for members to have certainty of heaven after death to a Church whose calling it is to be Christ in the world, to end injustice and oppression and poverty and all the world’s problems.

Except we often forget God is still involved in the healing. Jesus said, “you give them something to eat,” but he also poured divine power into this supper and provided a miraculous meal. Surely some there also had brought their own food and shared. But that doesn’t explain the astonishing twelve basketsful of leftovers, far more food than could be accounted for by anything but God’s miraculous action.

We are sent as Christ into the world, but we’re not solely responsible for Christ’s work. No matter how meager our five loaves and two fish seem, God always transforms our scarcity into abundance for all.

In fact, this story teaches us that God’s love is the beginning and the ending of all healing.

Do you see? It’s Jesus who walks the crowd during the day, healing, blessing. We only hear of the disciples in the evening, when they raise the question of supper. And when this meal was over, first Christ sent the disciples away, then dismissed the crowds himself.

Christ’s love and compassion for the crowds preceded and succeeded the disciples’. God’s love for the suffering and dying of this world precedes and succeeds ours. God’s love for Mount Olive was here before any of us, and will be here well after us. There is no pain of this world into which God hasn’t already invested far more than we.

The Triune God is there in the overwhelming pain and suffering already, is coming with us, and will be there after we’re done. These overwhelming problems aren’t ours to solve alone. God will ensure healing happens. While also saying, “you heal them. You feed them. You make peace.”

Nothing less will satisfy the world’s needs.

This is God’s path to the world’s healing. And our path.

When we’re neither satisfied sitting back waiting for God, nor deluded into thinking the world’s overwhelming weight lies on our shoulders alone.

When Christ draws us into the heart of God, into the life in Christ that is ours, and together we go out into the crowds and are Christ. And they are Christ to us.

And when God’s mighty power in us and in the world turns death into life, despair into hope, scarcity into abundance. Until all are satisfied. All have enough. And God’s whole creation is healed.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

Jesus gives us pictures that open up God’s realm to us when we contemplate them and hold them in our minds and hearts: God’s inseparable love is the treasure beyond price that we find.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 17, year A
Texts: Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52; Romans 8:26-39

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Understanding how God works and rules in the world isn’t easy.

We know how the world has worked for thousands of years, how power is kept and used. People claim power, use it to benefit themselves, people tend toward self-centeredness and self-interest. Whether we’re talking about people controlling their families or at work, or even how we rule politically, it’s the same “get what you can for yourself” kind of pattern that repeats endlessly over time and cultures.

We might assume that God rules in this world the same as we. Many Christians claim that. But the Son of God came to us from the heart of the Triune God, wore our flesh, and showed us that God’s way of rule is dramatically different from our way. Jesus taught us of the realm of God, how the Triune God works and rules in the world, how God is in charge.

Sometimes Jesus gave us ideas: that God’s realm is found in love of God and love of neighbor; that forgiveness is the center of God’s relationship with the world and our relationships with each other.

But sometimes words aren’t enough, so Jesus used pictures. Parables. Images of what God’s realm is like. Today we have five such pictures. Rather than converting them into neat and tidy teaching, let’s use them as Jesus intended, as windows into the mystery of God’s rule. The images themselves are the gift, they’re what we want to take away from today. When we contemplate these pictures, we’re drawn deeper into Christ, into the heart of God. We begin to see the truth of God’s rule and realm in this world, and the life God offers all things through it.

Now, the world’s way demands instant gratification, immediate achievement of goals, with minimal sacrifice or effort.

No matter how complicated a problem, we want results now, from cosmetics to politicians. Even if a better solution exists, if it takes time and sacrifice, we take the quicker option.

But consider the mystery of a seed, Jesus says. Everything the plant will be is inside it already. The tiniest of seeds can grow to enormous, shading plants. But you wouldn’t know either of these by looking at that dead seed. That’s how God rules in the world.

Envision a seed, then, when your faith is tiny or weak. See that the full child of God in Christ you are meant to be is already within you, contained in God’s planting. See that a seed has no visible power, but it can break apart concrete and reach the sky.

What else can you see in the seed?

Or consider yeast, Jesus says. Without it, you’d have a lump of paste. But these tiny organisms eat and ferment and produce carbon dioxide, and empower a golden loaf able to feed those who hunger. That’s how God works in the world.

Imagine yeast, then, when you feel that the good you do in the world is insignificant, a tiny contribution. Consider how these tiny beings affect many things around them and make growth and healing far greater than their size. Consider what happens when there’s no yeast.

What else can you see in the yeast?

Again, in the world, we cling to our tribes and clans, and judge those not like us, to feel safe and secure.

Whether family or ethnicity or belief system or even the human species, we judge who is in with us and who is out. Whether it’s genocide or destructive pollution, shunning of a family’s black sheep or ignoring the suffering of those who aren’t us, this is how the world works.

But look at someone fishing with a net, Jesus says. The net drags through the water and picks up everything in its path. Not just fish, but trash, driftwood, everything, Jesus says. Look and see: God’s realm is this net, so we’re in the net, not in charge of it.

Contemplate this, Jesus says, that God holds the net, and all things – not even just people – are included. Ponder that God alone decides what to keep and what to throw. Who knows if the One who draws a net through the world can use an old boot, sees beauty in a broken wheel?

What else can you see in the net?

We already know how God will value all things in the net.

At the cross, Christ gave his life for love of the whole creation, the cosmos itself, to draw all things into the heart of God’s love. Paul tells us today that nothing in all creation, not present or future, not any powers or evil, nothing can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. And Paul shares Jesus’ inclusive vision, declaring that the whole creation is being brought into this heart of God, this inseparable love. Not just our kind of humans, not even just humans themselves, the whole creation.

For the One who draws in the net, the judgment over all things inside is “this is good and precious to me.” The Netminder has need for all things in it, broken or whole, ugly or beautiful, strong or weak. No matter how we might judge what jostles alongside us, or they us, the only judgment that counts is the inseparable love of God in Christ for the whole creation. God’s inclusive net is where our true safety and security is found.

Now, we know our world values much that we’re taught will satisfy us, make us happy, but don’t.

We don’t get to take our wealth with us in death. We don’t find happiness in selfish gain. If we need more things to be satisfied we never will be. All we’re taught to strive for ultimately leaves us empty.

But see this realm of God? Jesus says. When you dwell on the seed and yeast and dragnet, do you see this treasure? If you were looking the world over for the most precious thing, like an enormous pearl, and you saw this realm of God I’ve shown you, you’d stop immediately, sell everything, to have that treasure of inseparable love and subversive grace.

Or maybe you weren’t searching, you just happened on this treasure of God, Jesus says, when you weren’t hoping to find anything. Like walking in a field and being surprised. You’d still immediately give anything for this treasure.

When we hear Jesus, see his love at the cross, when our eyes open to the image of a seed planted that will shade the world, a tiny growth that will produce bread for all, a net that will bring all things into God’s love, when these images sit in our hearts and minds, we begin to grasp what real treasure is.

And when we contemplate these images, we also see the path of the cross.

The path of the cross is a way of patience and trust in hidden growth, subversive grace, an enduring of “already but not yet” in our personal faith and spiritual lives, in the life and healing of the world. There aren’t quick answers, but seed and yeast show God will give growth and life.

The path of the cross is a way of learning God’s eyes of judgment instead of our own. There’s patience here, too, as we bump in this net alongside all sorts of things and people we neither like nor understand, whose value and worth elude us. Because all are loved by God, we are asked to love all, and that’s costly and painful. But contemplate the great joy that we, too, are in this net of inseparable love.

The path of the cross is a way of letting go of all that keeps us from the true treasure. Dying to the ways of the world, letting go of our selfishness and self-centeredness. Our habits that hurt the world and others. Our need to be right. Our need to be in control.

As we turn our eyes to this pearl, the treasure of this astonishing love of God, nothing else matters for us and for the world. Once we see the treasure of God’s realm, meant for the whole creation, no sacrifice or loss is anything compared to being drawn into that love.

God’s realm in this world is deep mystery.

There are few easy explanations, we rarely have a moment where it’s all clear.

But if we contemplate these simple pictures, take them home, bring them into our hearts and minds in prayer, the Spirit will open our eyes. That’s Christ’s promise. We’ll see growth from seeds planted in us and the world, rising dough creating food, the joy of sharing God’s net of inseparable love. We’ll see ever more clearly the precious treasure of life within God’s heart that Christ is offering the whole creation.

And the best treasure of all? We don’t need to understand the seed’s mystery to enjoy shade, or understand science to delight in bread. We don’t need to understand why God’s judgment is always love to be swept up into the net of life in Christ. God’s realm will be, even if it remains mystery to us.

This is what God’s realm looks like. Seed. Yeast. Net. Treasure. This is how God is working and ruling in the world. God give us eyes to see.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

God’s Word will do what God purposes, always. That’s our ground for living and hope for healing of ourselves and the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 15, year A
Texts: Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23; Isaiah 55:10-13

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

For today, let’s set aside the interpretation we just heard.

We understand why the Evangelists included it. The early believers struggled with why sometimes their work bore good fruit, people joined Christ’s way, and sometimes no matter how faithfully they shared the Good News, it wasn’t received or rooted. Jesus’ interpretation helps face that frustration.

But Jesus didn’t tell parables that had only one interpretation. When he needed to speak that clearly, he did. “Love one another as I have loved you” is direct speech needing little explanation.

But some truths about God and the world aren’t easily packaged in a simple teaching. So Jesus also told parables. Stories, pictures revealing a deep wisdom about God’s reign. Every parable Jesus told is a jewel that, if held to the light and turned, or held in a different light, reveals further facets of God’s truth and wisdom. This interpretation here is only one facet.

Today we heard this parable alongside God’s word to the prophet Isaiah. In that light, when we turn it carefully, a whole new grace in these words is revealed to us.

God declares a promise to Isaiah that transforms our faith.

God says: you see the rain and snow fall, water the earth, and help life grow and sprout? That’s like my Word that I speak into the world. Like rain and snow, it will always bear fruit. “My Word that goes out from my mouth shall not return to me empty,” says the Lord, “but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”

How have we forgotten this? This gives hope to all our attempts to be obedient and faithful, confidence to our footsteps and our voices, encouragement to our hearts. God’s Word will accomplish what God wants, always.

Now, what does this tell us about Jesus’ parable?

Suddenly what we thought was certain about this story isn’t.

In Isaiah’s light, God’s Word is the rain and snow, not the seed. So if God’s Word always nurtures the fruit God needs, can we hear this parable as not about the visible harvests at all?

Isaiah’s light focuses us on the Sower, not the harvests. Jesus describes a Sower who walks over the ground, throwing seed everywhere and anywhere. This looks careless, but that’s how seed was then sown. Today, agriculture has eliminated the obvious problems of this Sower. Farmers long have removed the rocks, killed the weeds, prepared the ground. And none of them, for centuries, has run their planter over the road.

But what if the Sower isn’t careless at all? What if the Sower knows birds will eat the seeds on the path, and the sun will wilt the plants in rocky ground, and weeds will challenge the new growth in places, and still plants seeds there?

If God’s Word always bears the fruit God wants, always accomplishes what God wills, we know two things about the path, the rocks, and the weeds. We know we can’t see how planting seeds there is helpful or good. But we also know God sees something important in that planting, and that at some point God’s rain and snow will produce what God needs there.

This has profound implications for our lives in the world and our own journeys of faith.

We struggle with the crises of our world, and our involvement in them, but we might have forgotten Isaiah’s word.

Systemic racism, the devastation of climate change and the injustice and oppression it causes, the wicked systems that create rich and poor and deepen those realities almost without conscious thought or effort, the evil distribution of resources that forces millions to die of hunger every year, all these cause us great anxiety and stress. We struggle to know how to begin to turn these into paths of healing.

But God says, “My Word will accomplish what I purpose, and succeed in that for which I sent it.” Do we not believe this? Hasn’t God promised over and over to draw all races and nations together? Hasn’t God not only called us to do justice and care for the poor but also said “I myself will care for the poor and needy, and feed the hungry”? We can’t read God’s Scriptures without seeing God’s promise to personally bring justice and peace.

Of course we still follow our own call to serve. But now we do it with the confidence that God’s promise is to heal all things. God’s seed will bear fruit, the rain of God’s Word will see it happen.

We struggle with being Christ in our own lives, but again may have forgotten God’s promise.

The more we listen to Christ the more we realize the challenges of Christ’s path. We realize our own implicit, unthinking racism, our embeddedness in a capitalist culture that benefits us while harming others, our sinful thoughts and words and actions even to those we love. We long to be Christ, to love as Christ, to witness to Christ’s love. But we stumble in our Christly, self-giving love, and sometimes despair at that.

Have we forgotten God’s promise? “My Word will accomplish what I purpose, and succeed in that for which I sent it.” Isn’t the Bible full of promises of God to change us, make us holy? Aren’t we joined to Christ’s vine, with the Spirit’s fruits borne in us? Hasn’t God promised through Paul that we are new children of God, a new creation? We can’t read God’s Scriptures without hearing God’s promise to make us new, to make us Christ’s love in the world.

Of course we still heed our call to walk Christ’s path. But now we walk with God’s hope and courage, knowing we will become what we are meant to be. God promised. And God’s promises always, always bear the fruit God needs.

Seen in the light of Isaiah, this jewel Jesus gives us reminds us that we can’t always believe what we see.

We look at a dead Son of God hanging on a cross, and can’t see how God’s love can heal the world. But Christ is risen, and love defeats death, and Isaiah was right. God’s Word will always do what God intends.

So what we think we see isn’t always truth. The birds eat seed, rocks push plants into the sun, weeds choke. The world rolls on, systems take deeper root, our efforts to be Christ fail.

But if God’s Word always succeeds, we don’t know what we’re really seeing. In the devastation of any of the world’s problems, in the grief and frustration we find in our failure to be Christ, we see only one piece of God’s strategy. Just because we can’t see how God will make life out of death, hope out of despair, joy out of sorrow, doesn’t mean God won’t. The cross taught us that. Justice will prevail, healing will happen in our hearts and in the world, those who are poor will be restored, those who are hungry will be fed, and God’s reign of peace will heal this universe. God has promised it.

The Sower knows what the Sower is doing, and we shouldn’t be distracted when we don’t think we see results. God’s Word will always do what God needs it to do.

This transforms everything.

Even our understanding of God’s grace. Grace isn’t just needed when we fail. It’s our beginning. The Great Sower begins with grace, our lives are born in God’s grace. God’s grace is the source, the font of life, the rain and snow that water the earth. All is born in God’s grace, and that changes everything. All we fear, all we struggle against, all we have to do as Christ, all that work is born from the womb of God’s eternal grace and love.

If we begin Christ’s path supported by God’s grace, how can we fail? If we follow our call to heal this world supported by God’s promise, how can we fail?

“My Word will accomplish what I purpose, and succeed in that for which I sent it.” That’s where we always begin. And end.

So, let’s get to work.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

There is hope in living and loving as Christ, and there is hope in failing to live and love as Christ, for Christ bears the load with us, in good and ill, and helps us walk the path of Christly love.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 14, year A
Texts: Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30; Romans 7:15-25a

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Paul of Tarsus was a saint. The Church says so.

We know it is so. His brilliant and passionate proclamation of God’s love in Christ, his tireless mission work, creating congregations across Asia Minor and Europe, his letters that still inspire and move us into faith, all witness to the holy grace that he was.

But sometimes he could be a jerk. He struggled with arrogance, had a temper problem, would sometimes wish terrible things on his opponents. Paul wasn’t always a gracious, kind, Christ-like person. And this is after his conversion from being a persecutor of the Church. Rightly or wrongly, there are many who do not see a saint when they consider Paul.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta was a saint. The Church says so.

We know it is so. Her life among the poor is inspiring to us all. Dedicating her life and all she had to caring for those on the fringes of the fringe, those whom so many had abandoned and ignored, her establishing of clinics, orphanages, and hospices, and an order of sisters who expanded her ministry, all witness to the holy grace that she was.

But she struggled with faith, often feeling God’s absence from her life. After her death, her writings were made public which described a deep sense of alienation from God lasting many years. During her process of canonization, some accused her of misusing donations, and said her methods weren’t intended to bring those who were poor out of poverty but to keep them there. Rightly or wrongly, there are some who do not see a saint when they consider Teresa.

What of the saints in our lives?

Think of those whose holiness of life and word inspired you, taught you, shaped you. Those about whom you and I could tell stories of awe and wonder, whose lives are ones for which we are still thankful. If the Church in East and West has not seen fit to formally canonize them, nonetheless we witness to the holy grace that they were.

Yet can we not also tell other stories of them which don’t neatly fit the title “saint”? There are fourteen names I name in the final petition of our prayers each week, when we each name our own beloved dead, fourteen loved ones from my mother to my uncles and all sorts of relatives in between. Some are dear models of faith to me. Not one was free of failure. With each I could tell of things that weren’t Christ-like. So could you of yours. Depending on which part of the story we tell of these who were holy in our lives, others might not see saints when they consider these people.

But think of all these and ask, are you ashamed of their failings?

I doubt it. We find inspiration and hope in their lives, and always will. People like Paul still teach us with their words, and always will. People like Teresa still inspire us with their devoted ministry, and always will. People whom we name and love still are the lights by which we first saw in the darkness, and will always be blessed in our hearts and minds.

We don’t ignore their failings, but we aren’t embarrassed by them. Their mistakes aren’t a source of shame. We love them for who they are and for the blessing they have been.

So why has the Church so long served the main course of the Good News of God’s love in Christ covered in a rich sauce of shame? For centuries now, we have been taught to be ashamed of our sin, to look at the lives of saints and note how unlike them we are, to hang our heads in humiliation before God as if we aren’t worthy. Only then are we told we can know we are loved by God’s grace.

But this is in direct conflict with the Scriptures, with the teaching, life, death and resurrection of Christ, with the teachings of the apostles and the very saints themselves, even our own. What we hear from all these is that we are beloved of God, worthy of God’s deepest attention, even to the point of God taking on our humanity alongside us. These witnesses name our sin not to humiliate, but to correct. They name it as we name the sins of our saints, as a truth needing forgiveness, not a truth that changes our view of the person.

It’s time we learned from the saints and Christ Jesus to set aside our shame and finally hear the real Good News.

Instead of shame, from the saints we receive the grace of a shared struggle.

Paul’s words from Romans 7 comfort and bless us. We hear from the apostle who taught us of God’s love for us, that he struggled to do right. “I can will what is right, but I can’t do it,” he says. “For I don’t do the good I want, but the evil I don’t want is what I do.”

We understand this in our bones. But what a gift for this saint and apostle to say, “I’m like you. This path of Christ is hard for me, too, and even when in my inmost heart I want to follow Christ, I don’t always do it.” What a blessing to hear!

Likewise, Teresa’s writings themselves give us hope, because her life of faithfulness continued in spite of her sense of a missing faith. She longed for God’s closeness, but she kept serving and loving as Christ. What a gift that is in our own times of God’s silence!

All these aren’t blessings to us because they were perfect, but because they share the same struggle we do. The best of them, if we read their writings, or remember their conversations with us, freely admit their failures to be like Christ.

When we look at the problems of the world, and at our own lives where we’re complicit in so many unspoken and unexplored areas, when we realize how hard it is to walk as Christ, even though we want to so badly, we can see around us these saints, not on pedestals but right next to us, who say, “I know exactly what you mean. It’s hard.”

But then they all say, turn to Christ for help. All these saints who share this struggle with us have this in common: they drew hope and life and strength from Christ, not themselves.

Instead of shame, from Christ we receive the grace of a shared burden.

Jesus never shamed people, or humiliated them. Yes, he called out sin, named it. But always in love, always ready to accept those who strayed. He said his job was to seek and find the lost and bring them home.

It is this crucified and risen Christ who now says to us: “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Christ Jesus says we are beloved and that as we walk the cross-shaped path that frightens and daunts and intimidates us, we do not walk it alone. In fact, we are yoked to Christ, each of us, like a fellow ox. The yoke is this life in Christ we seek. And Christ is harnessed alongside us, so we are pulling together, bearing the burden together.

When we stumble and fall, because we do, Christ doesn’t shame us or humiliate us. Christ picks up more of the weight, helps us right ourselves, and off we go again, forgiven and loved still, on this path of love of God and love of neighbor.

When Paul asks today who will save him from his struggle, he says it is God who does it, through Christ. And partly he means it is God who forgives him. But what Paul really desires is help with the struggle, help carrying the burden.

That’s the promise Christ gives Paul, and Teresa, and all the saints. And us. To pull alongside us, help us when we stumble, and get us going forward in love again.

This is the grace of our struggle to faithfully follow Christ’s path. We never carry the weight alone.

When we grasp this, it’s like the sun breaking through dark clouds. We find hope and joy in living and loving as Christ, of course. But because Christ is yoked alongside us, we also find hope and joy in failing to live and love as Christ. Because in our weakness we are made strong. In our failing we are made perfect and in our failing we are also the most aware that we are always joined to Christ, and therefore to the love of the Triune God.

Christ’s path often seems overwhelming. But once we truly see the witness of the saints in failure as well as grace, once we remember who’s yoked alongside us, we finally understand how this yoke can be easy, this burden light. “Thanks be to God through Christ Jesus our Lord!” Paul says. Thanks be to God indeed!

In the name of Jesus. Amen