Strength in Weakness: July 26

 Year A, Pentecost 9                                         Romans 8:26-39                                                                 

I went to a Presbyterian seminary in my early 20s.  I was Roman Catholic at the time and had never once been asked to pray extemporaneously…that means without any preparation. I had been active in a church and college ministry, but that was not something that Catholics did. Presbyterians are much more accustomed to writing their own prayers and often leading prayer without writing it out in advance.  Every week, the women on the 3^rd floor of my dorm would get together for prayer and conversation.  People were called on for opening and closing prayers.  I told them that I wasn’t comfortable with that and asked that they not call on me.  After a few months they said, “Well, can’t you just lead a Catholic prayer that you know?”  We did the Hail Mary, which also felt weird.  I became good at just avoiding it in general.

When I was studying at the Episcopal Seminary I was rarely called on to lead prayer that wasn’t in the prayer book…which meant I didn’t get any practice coming up with my own prayers. At my first clergy conference, the bishop had this fun habit of inviting the newest clergy to lead the prayer before a meal. He asked me and I politely declined…in front of everyone.  There is nothing more terrifying than leading a prayer in front of a bunch of clergy, especially when you are brand new and the youngest one there.  A few years later, one of my colleagues said, “Telling the bishop you wouldn’t pray was one of the craziest things I had ever seen. I didn’t think you would make it to the next clergy conference.”  But here I am, 20 years later.  And you know what…it still makes me nervous when someone asks me to pray out loud….and I am a priest.

          For that reason and at least a few more, I have always loved these words from Paul. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.”  Paul was obviously a gifted writer and speaker. If he wasn’t, we wouldn’t still be reading him today.  Yet it would seem, that even he had his moments when he didn’t feel like he could pray.  Maybe it was the times he was imprisoned...or ship wrecked, or beaten.  Those are all possibilities.  Or perhaps, it was those time when he felt that he had to prove himself over and over again, because he wasn’t one of the original apostles. He often felt the need to defend himself as he was one of the few leaders of this very new church who had never even met Jesus when he was still alive. 

It’s impossible to know when it was hardest for him.  I have had times in my life when it was hard, even impossible to pray.  Sometimes when it felt like it should have been hard, the prayer came with ease.  Even as I wrote this sermon, I couldn’t quite pinpoint why sometimes prayer felt impossible, and other times, it flowed like a mighty river, just gushing forth. I share all this because I know a lot of people who perceive that their struggle to pray makes them less of a Christian.  However, I believe that the struggle is what brings us closer to God.  I think the other thing that can bring us closer to God is our ability to acknowledge our weakness and thus our dependence on God.

          Some version of the word “weak” is used 42 times in the New Testament.  32 of those times are in Paul’s letters.  In the Old Testament, weak is only used with negative associations or when talking about the need to help and protect the weak.  What I have always appreciated about Paul is his willingness to acknowledge his own weakness…not as a failure, not even as something that needs to be fixed, but an opportunity to strengthen one’s relationship with God. 

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul talked about a thorn in his flesh…something he begged God to take away from him.  There are a lot of theories about what this thorn might have been, but we really can’t know for sure.  What we know is that it was a thorn that remained his whole life. It was something that he never overcame, never rid himself of.  While God didn’t remove the thorn, God did respond to the prayer. God said “’My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” That led Paul to conclude, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

          I am not proud of my refusal to pray out load at my first clergy conference.  My refusal didn’t come from a place of humility or awareness of my weakness.  It came from a place of fear and anxiety…a need that people not judge me on something that I didn’t have time to prepare.  Ironically, about 15 years after that refusal to pray publicly, a friend of mine and I decided to write a book of prayers about our experiences being gravely ill.  Both of us realized that when we were sick and afraid, we couldn’t pray, which was confusing for us because we were both clergy.  You would think if anyone could have figured it out, we could have. 

But it was almost like our training got in the way.  We had forgotten the words of Paul were not just words to preach about, they were words to experience.   We called the book Irreverent Prayers, not because the prayers were actually irreverent, but because the groaning and sighing that we experienced as prayer just didn’t feel reverent or holy.  It felt desperate.  It also felt real, and I think that’s all God really cares about, that our prayers are real and mean something.

          If you are struggling with prayer, then that means you haven’t given up.  If you feel like you can’t find the right words, then that’s when you get to groan or sigh or cry.  If your prayers contain swear words, just don’t say those prayers out loud in a large group. Don’t try to censor yourself before God.  Don’t feel shame for what you want to say or are afraid to say.

Paul wrote, “God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit…” God has already searched our hearts.  God already knows all of us, and God loves us not despite our weakness, but because of our weakness.  Our weaknesses gives God something to work with.

In the Gospels, it was always the proud and the confident that Jesus argued with and was critical of.  It was never the weak and the vulnerable. Jesus never reprimanded someone for genuine questions. The only questions he didn’t like were the ones that were trying to trap or trick him. If you are feeling weak, or afraid, or hopeless—that’s ok.  It’s hard to feel those things, but it doesn’t mean you are not holy or beloved by God.  You were created for holiness and goodness.  Don’t let fear or weakness be a reason to give up. Instead, let it be a reason to invite God into your life in the most authentic way possible.

Could it be....Satan?: July 30 2023

 Year A, Pentecost 9                                                            Romans 8:26-39                                                                   

            I have always loved this reading from Romans.  I use it when I talk to people about prayer.  “The Spirit helps us in our weakness when we do not know how to pray…” We often use it in funerals.  “I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come… nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God...” 

It’s the reference to death that leads us to use it in funerals.  Yet notice that Paul isn’t just talking about death separating us from the love of God...Paul mentions that life can’t separate us from the love of God.  We rarely focus on that part of the reading, but it’s so much more relevant for our day to day lives.  I don’t think most people spend a lot of time worrying about what comes after they die, at least not until we are close to death or have some brush with death (ours or someone else’s).  Most of us are more focused on what we are going through  now, or next week.  I believe that was what Paul was concerned with as well.

            When Paul talked about being separated from the love of Christ, he didn’t start with what could separate us, but who could separate us.  I am not sure how many of you were watching Saturday Night Live in the late 80s and 90s, but there was a very well known bit called “The Church Lady.”  One of the things she was known for was bringing on guests, judging them harshly and accusing them of being Satan.  Her famous line was, “Could it be…Satan?” There are some Christians who like to blame everything on Satan and certainly evil is at the heart of why a lot of bad things happen.  But when Paul was talking about who would separate us from the love of Christ, I don’t think he was talking about Satan.

It’s possible he was talking about other people who could lead us down the wrong path. At the very end, he mentions rulers among the possible things or people who can separate us from God’s love.   One could make a case for people in power being guilty of that to some extent.  But I think the most common person who separates us from God’s love is ourselves.  How often do we get in our own way in our relationship with God? We can blame it on other people, we can even blame it on Satan, but most of the time, it’s us.

            After asking “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?”---he moves onto what could separate us.  Examples include: hardship, distress, persecution, famine, peril or violence.  In other words---suffering.  There have been times in my life when suffering drew me closer to God, but there have also been times when suffering drew me away from God.  I wish I could tell you what the difference was, how to ensure that whatever suffering you might be experiencing would draw you closer, not further.  I have not yet figured that out.  Fortunately, Paul did.  The suffering that Paul mentions---hardship, distress, persecution, danger, violence---all of that were things he had personally experienced.  That suffering was also present in the communities that he had encountered and ministered to.  What he learned through those experiences was that nothing in all creation could possibly separate us (God’s children) from the love of Christ because God would not allow that to happen. 

            It is tempting to think that it’s in our hands, that we have more control than God over our connection to God.  But the whole point of this text is that God is in control. If we are able to release our tight grip on every part of our life, then we can better hold on to our relationship with God.  Remember how this whole text starts.  “The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.  And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit…”  There are so many times when I think, well if I just used the right words in this sermon, then people would be able to understand.  And then I stress and sweat and labor over words that shouldn’t even be my words.  It’s so hard not to want to control God.

            I start every sermon with: “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.”  Many clergy start that way, and there are some critics of that beginning who say that it’s kind of presumptuous.  By starting that way, it implies the clergy is speaking on behalf of God.  I have always started that way because that is the way I was taught.  It never occurred to me that it was presumptuous.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s a statement of hope as much as anything else. I know I don’t speak on behalf of God. But I hope and pray that God somehow speaks through me…that God’s spirit intercedes between what I say and what you hear so that you will hear the words that you need to hear.

            I am telling you this, partly because it’s relevant as it’s an Instructed Eucharist[1] and we are trying to teach why we say what we do, but partly because I wanted to emphasize how hard it is to release control over our lives.  I have to remind myself every time I preach that I am not in control of what you hear or what you need to hear. So I get it. I get it that people in their daily lives feel the need to control things. 

Obviously, we have to plan and act.  We can’t just do nothing and assume God will take care of the rest.  Dinner isn’t just going to appear on your table.  You have to go to the store and then prepare the food, or at the very least, order the pizza. But when it comes to understanding suffering or why certain things happen, well those are things that distract us more than anything else.  There is so much that we allow to separate us from God….but there is nothing that God will allow to separate us from him. I am going to say that again: There is so much that we allow to separate us from God….but there is nothing that God will allow to separate us from him. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to get out of our own way and in doing so, make space for the one true God. 

            How does one do that? Partly it’s by making more time in your life for God.  Recently I was reading a devotional and it said that when most of us hear that the greatest commandment is to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” we take that to mean: “Just try not to forget about God.” If we spent as much time dedicated to our families as we do to God, we would probably be considered negligent.  And I am including myself in that assessment.  Make time for worship, for prayer, for study, and for listening to God.  Like our reading says, God is searching our hearts.  God knows our hearts.  It’s time that we get to know God’s heart as well.

           

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[1] An Instructed Eucharist is a regular service with some added explanation that is presented both verbally and in the bulletin.  We do it over a 2 week period.  This week we are focusing on liturgy of the word.

August 10, 2014: Matthew 14: 22-33

Year A, Pentecost 9                                                                           
                                                  

            One of my favorite movie scenes is from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  Indiana was a rather adventurous archaeologist who often found himself on epic adventures where he always seemed to be pursuing a treasure.  In this scene, he was running from some bad guys and trying to save his father. He came to this huge cavern.  He had to get to the other side, but there was no bridge, not even a rickety rope bridge.  It was too far to jump, but he knew that there had to be a way.  He realized with the help of a book that was providing him clues-- that it would literally require a leap of faith.  The bridge would only appear if he took the first step.  It was a bit of a catch 22.  He could only see it if he believed in it.  But he would have to believe in it without seeing it.

            I cannot tell you how often that scene pops into my head when I am thinking of the Christian journey.  We are rarely tested in such a vivid way, but believing in God is a huge leap of faith.  We are asked to believe in a God who we cannot see, cannot touch, and cannot hear.  He had a son who lived 2000 years ago and was killed only to come back from the dead.  We have stories that were recorded, but that is it.  How could any rational person be expected to believe such a thing?  We are supposed to live our whole lives based on this truth of which we have absolutely no proof. 

            Sometimes I think that had I lived when Jesus lived and been one of his disciples, I would not have doubted.  I mean who in their right mind could witness the feeding of the 5000 and not realize that this Jesus person was someone pretty special?  He cured people. He spoke with eloquence and power.  He calmed storms.  And this was all before he sacrificed himself and was then resurrected.  I occasionally find myself judging the disciples for their lack of belief. 

Just a few chapters before our Gospel reading for today, Jesus was in a boat with his disciples when they were hit by a violent storm. They were terrified of course.  Jesus slept right through it because he was apparently a very sound sleeper.  They woke him and he rose and calmed the storm.  After that, they were amazed and wondered what kind of man could command the wind and the seas.  In that story, it seemed pretty obvious.  They asked him to calm the storm and he did.  But today’s story is different.  I can empathize with the disciples fear and doubt.

            This happens right after the feeding of the 5000.  Jesus needed some alone time and told the disciples to get in the boat and go ahead of him to the other side. The Greek is pretty clear that Jesus actually forced them into the boat.  It was not a helpful suggestion; it was a command.  Suddenly there was a storm that battered the boat all night.  The text says that they did not see the person walking across the water until early morning, which means that Jesus waited until they had suffered through many hours of terror until he came to them. What was he thinking walking on water through a storm?  Would it not have made more sense had he first calmed the storm and then appeared to them?  Of course they did not recognize him.  It was raining and not even light out yet.

            One can hardly blame the disciples for having a hard time recognizing him.   He knew this and he tried to assuage their fears when he said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”  What is interesting is that while he tried to ease their fears with his words, he never actually calmed the storm…perhaps because that was not what they were afraid of.  Peter decided to test Jesus, which is never a good idea.  He said, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”  Notice that Peter did not say, “If it is you, give me the power to walk on water.”  No, he said, “Command me to come to you on the water.”  Jesus provided that command with one word: “Come.” 

            Peter got out and started walking.  Now for Indiana Jones, it was that first step that proved the hardest.  But Peter did not seem to struggle with the first step.  It fact, he did a pretty god job until he noticed the strong wind that had not ceased since the storm began.  It was then, after he had taken those first few steps that he started to doubt.  Then he started to sink.

            I think that is a lot more true to life than the scene in Indiana Jones. It’s always hard to take the first step and Peter should be commended and admired for the courage that must have required.   Yet it often seems, in real life, it is after a couple steps when things get really difficult.  It’s when you  take that first step and you think, well, God should really reward me for this first step.  And you pat yourself on the back and look around to see who is admiring your courage, and that is when you realize that the wind has not died down.  The storm is still raging around you.  Wasn’t it supposed to be easier once you signed on to this faith thing…once you took the first step?  Why is the storm raging on?  Why has life not gotten smoother?

            It is tempting in those moments to turn around and head for the safety of the boat.  It will still be a little scary in the boat, but at least you have something solid beneath you and there are other people close by.  At least that boat is familiar territory. 

But to Peter’s credit, he never turned around.  When he started sinking he called out to God, “Lord, save me.”   When he cried out, Jesus immediately reached out and caught him.  He then said, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  That always seemed a little harsh to me.  However, whenever Jesus used that phrase, “you of little faith” he was talking to a believer who was struggling.  It wasn’t a reprimand as much as it was a “Come on, you knew I would come through.”  Peter did know this.  That was why he called out.

            I admire Peter for taking that first step.  It must have been terrifying.  There was a part of him that must have believed or he would have never stepped off the boat.  But what I admire more is what he did when he started to sink.  He didn’t turn around and head back for safety and certainty.  No, he called out to Jesus.  He asked to be saved….even though the winds were still strong and the storm was still raging.

There will be so many times where we will want to turn around because things have gotten too scary.  We took that initial risk.  We went to church.  We read the Bible.  We did all the things that the pastor recommended but life raged on.  It is those times where we have to call on God, not because we expect that the winds will cease as soon as he hears us, but because we know that he will catch us.  There might be a bit of a fall before he catches us, but Jesus will catch us.  Perhaps it’s not the leap that requires the faith as much as it is the fall that comes later.