Faith in the Waiting: August 6, 2022

 Year C, Pentecost 9                             Genesis 15: 1-6 & Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16                                

           Before we entered the adoption process, I spent six years going through fertility treatments.  When you are trying to get pregnant, there is a lot of waiting involved.  After I gave up on that and we started the adoption process---that was a whole new waiting game.  The adoption process as a whole took about two years.  After we brought Joshua home, there were 4 more months until the adoption papers came through and he was officially ours.  That was a total of 8 years of waiting for my husband and me.  During that time, there were a lot of desperate prayers, angry outbursts, and times of hopelessness.   The thing about waiting is that it usually involves a loss of control. Because if you were in control, you probably wouldn’t be waiting. 

            But the waiting I experienced, really doesn’t compare to the waiting that Sarah and Abraham experienced.  They waited about 25 years from the first time God promised them children until the day when Sarah gave birth to Isaac.    In our reading for today, we hear of the third time that God made this promise to Abraham.  We don’t know how many years have passed since the 1^st time, but let’s assume it’s been awhile.  We can tell from Abraham’s response to God’s greeting that he’s not delighted about how things are going. 

Notice that God doesn’t bring up the promise of future children.  He simply says, “Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward will be very great.”  It’s not clear what Abraham is afraid of at this time.  He just took part in a military battle and some commentators hypothesize that Abraham is still afraid that the enemy he just defeated will return. 

It’s hard to say as he and Sarah have been through quite a bit since Abraham first heard the promise.  They left their homeland as God instructed them in chapter 12. They survived a famine and a run in with the pharaoh.  Most recently he had fought a battle and saved his nephew Lot who had been taken captive.  Clearly, he hadn’t been twiddling his thumbs while he waited.  Yet despite all that he had been through, all that he had accomplished, he was not satisfied.  God had promised that he would make him a great nation and how could be possibly birth a nation if his wife could not birth a son.  He had amassed great wealth and land, but there would be no son to leave all of this to. 

            So when God told him not to be afraid, he argued with God.  He told God that without a child he would have to leave everything he had to a slave.  God replied with another promise—that he would give him a son who would be his heir.  Then God did something interesting.  He brought him outside.   Often in the Old Testament, God is perceived as this otherworldly being who cannot be seen or touched-- only heard.  But in Genesis, God is very human like.  In the Garden of Eden, he strolled through the garden and made clothing for Adam and Eve.  He wrestled with Jacob.  Here, God seems to be standing right next to Abraham in his home and then walks with him outside and points to the sky.  I love this image of God accompanying someone from a place of light and warmth into the dark and showing him part of God’s own creation. 

Photo by Yong Chuan Tan 

            Once God does this, he makes the promise again.  Abraham’s descendants will be as numerous as the stars.   This time, Abraham believes.  Why?  Abraham asked God to give him something… presumably a sign.  God didn’t give him that. He didn’t even give him any more information. He didn’t give him a timeline or provide a persuasive argument or pep talk.   Nope.  God repeated the promise and showed him the stars.  Why would that give Abraham the faith he needed to continue to believe in this promise that had yet to be fulfilled?

            Our reading from Hebrews says, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  Hebrews then goes on to use Abraham as the ultimate example of faith.  It was by faith that he was able to obey God and leave his home for an unknown land.  It was by faith that he could believe that even at the age of 75 (which was when God first made the promise) that Sarah would conceive a child.  God never gave him proof.  He didn’t give him a sign.  Instead, God showed him a revelation, the stars….a reminder of what God is capable of.  And so Abraham believed.

            Did that mean that suddenly Abraham became free from doubt and worry?  No.  Only a few verses later, Abraham was arguing with God again.  A few verses after that, we read: “As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abraham, and a terrifying darkness descended upon him.”   Remember when God first showed him the stars?  It was night. Now we read that the sun is setting.  It sounds like Abraham and God have been talking and arguing for at least 12 hours.  Then, after all of that, there was still a terrifying darkness.

            Faith may be about assurance and conviction.  But it’s also about fear, anguish and lots of long conversations with God.  After this terrifying darkness descended, God continued to talk and he made a covenant with Abraham.  There in the dark, he made another promise.  I would like to tell you that did it for Abraham….from there on out he believed and never doubted. Alas no.  There were more missteps, more questions.  He even had a child with a slave of his house because he and Sarah needed to take control of God’s promise. 

            However, through it all, Abraham never gave up on God.  He continued to obey God, continued to serve God.  He still struggled with the promise, but he never lost that kernel of hope.  His faith wasn’t a roaring flame.  It was more like that pilot light on the stove that never quite goes out. That is what got him through the years of waiting.

            And here’s the thing about waiting.  Waiting in hope is not wasted time.  While I waited for a baby, I started writing about my experience.  I created wonderful fodder for future sermons.  I got into yoga.  I applied to St. John’s to be the rector.  I am not sure that would have happened if things had gone according to plan and I had two children by 2010.  Maybe it would have, but I can’t be sure. I made progress in those 8 years.   So did Abraham.  Abraham and Sarah built a foundation for the nation that they would one day birth.

            I struggle with this definition of faith from Hebrews.  I worry it makes it seem that if your prayers aren’t answered, then that means you must not have enough faith.  Don’t assume that if your prayers aren’t answered, it means that you don’t have enough faith or hope.  Don’t doubt your faith because you lack conviction and assurance.  That’s not what faith is.  Faith is about never giving up even when everything in life is telling you that it’s time to give up.  Faith is what happens in the waiting…what we do when the prayer goes unanswered.  Faith is a never ending conversation with God that sometimes happens in terrifying darkness.  Faith is knowing that even in the darkness, the stars still shine and God wants you to see them and know that not only did he create these stars, but he stands with you in the midst of that creation.

Gratitude that gushes: June 12, 2016

Year C, Pentecost 4                                                               
Luke 7:36-8:3                                                                         

            Most of you are aware that my husband and I have a new addition to our family.  We have been in the adoption process for over 2 years.  However, a few months ago we got a call that there was an emergency placement and we had 1 day to get to the hospital where this baby was born (which was about day’s journey).  There was not a lot of time to prepare of even to think through things. The birth mother had chosen us that day.  We knew very little about her or the baby who awaited us.  In truth, the birth mother was just a name on a sheet of paper.  While we certainly felt a level of gratitude to her, it was nothing particularly overwhelming.  Then we met Joshua.  We saw this tiny and perfect baby and we were both overwhelmed with gratitude, not just to God, but to this woman who carried him in her body for 9 months.

            One of the small pieces of information we had about her was why she decided to choose adoption.  She wrote that she could not raise him and she wanted to “bless another family.”  Those were the words that she wrote on the form we read.  That was why she chose adoption.  At first she did not want to meet us.  Then at the very last minute she changed her mind.  It was probably good that it was the last minute or I imagine I would have gone crazy worrying about what to say and what to do.  Instead, we had about two minutes to consider our words.  We walked in and she smiled this huge smile and hugged us.  We thanked her profusely, but we were very aware of how inadequate those thank yous were.  She said that it was a blessed day because we were the people who were meant to raise this baby and she felt joy because of it.  We promised her he would be beloved by many and that we would spend the rest of our lives loving him.  Then with tears in our eyes we said good bye. 

            I thought of that moment when I read the Gospel for today.  The story is about a woman who was overcome with emotion.  We know that she was a sinner because Jesus refers to her many sins.  Some people believe that Jesus forgave her because she showered him with her tears and anointed him with oil.  She honored him in ways that displayed her love.  However, many people (myself included) believe that her outpouring of love was a result of the forgiveness she had already received.  In other words, she had already met Jesus.  She had already been forgiven and this was her way of showing gratitude for this forgiveness. 

            If she went in weighed down by sins, begging for forgiveness, I think things would have happened differently.  She would have been tentative and unsure of herself.  She might have washed his feet, but not with her tears. She had oil with her and that was not an uncommon way to honor people, but it was usually placed on the head, not the feet.  But her actions, washing his feet with her tears, drying them with her hair—these seem unplanned, unchoreographed.  I am sure there are some people who can cry on demand, but I doubt that’s what happened.  She was simply overwhelmed with gratitude.  For years she had been weighed down with sin. 

Given the critical reaction of the Pharisee, people knew that she was a sinner. However, because of Jesus, she was free.  Obviously most people did not realize she had been forgiven.  They did not accept that Jesus could free her of these sins.  But for her, it was not about what other people thought. She knew that she had been forgiven and she knew the person who had changed her life forever.  Perhaps she had a little speech prepared. She was going to go in this house full of respectable people and carry her head high.  With respect and decorum, she would thank Jesus, anoint his head and then quietly slip out.  Then she saw him and she was so overcome, she dropped to her knees and wept. There were no words that were adequate for the grace and love that she experienced.  Her tears were so numerous that they washed his feet. When she realized that she was soaking the feet of the man who had saved her, she dried them with her hair because she didn’t have a towel.   Every part of her mind, body and soul was dedicated to this display of love and gratitude.  Jesus was so moved that he pronounced forgiveness again so that everyone would hear.  Then he commended her on her faith in front of the pillars of the faith.

            For a long time, I thought I deserved to have a baby. I thought this is the natural order of things. You get married, you have kids.  This is what you do.  Everyone around me was getting pregnant.  I was praying--my whole family was praying.  Despite the fact that I had competent doctors and a supportive husband, my prayers were not answered in the way that I thought they should have been answered.  While my priest mind knew that nothing is really fair in life—that we should be grateful for what we have—that I already had more than I deserved, I could not get past this feeling that life was unfair, that I was being deprived of something that I deserved.  Yet in that hospital, looking at the mother who placed her child in my arms because she wanted to bless me, I realized that this was more than I deserved.  This was love and there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do to properly express the gratitude that she deserved and that God deserved. 

For the first time in my life, I understand what this woman felt.  I even understand what Simon the Pharisee felt to some degree.  He went through life expecting things. He didn’t think he needed forgiveness. He had been good his whole like. He was the one who showed other people how to pray and how to worship. Because of that he could not appreciate this woman’s dramatic display of love. 

I have been the Pharisee in that I have not fully appreciated the grace and love that I have been given. I thought I had earned things fair and square.  I am sure that I will continue experiencing elements of the Pharisee’s entitlement and the woman’s gratitude. I wish that I could have learned this lesson without receiving this amazing miracle.  But I guess that’s not the point.  The point is that when we do find ourselves receiving these expected and unexpected miracles, we remember who deserves our thanks and praise, and we remember that every day. 

Most of us see our lives through a lens of scarcity.  We see what we do not have and what we deserve to have.  Instead, perhaps we could consider those little miracles and gifts that we receive every day---those things we barely notice.  Then when we identify those things or those people, we allow ourselves to gush a little. I pray that we can all find that raw place in our lives that gushes with gratitude---the kind of gratitude that leaves polite people uncomfortable.