Messages we deliver without meaning to.

         I've been thinking, recently, about a number of situations in which people communicate much more, or at least a different message, than they perhaps intend to deliver.
     A man I often see at Presbytery usually does not acknowledge me.  When we pass each other, when we are in the same groups, when we are at the same table, he doesn't talk to me or smile or nod his head in recognition, although I usually try to make eye contact, smile and say hello.  I assumed that was because he simply didn't know who I was and, in a conversation with a mutual acquaintance I must have made the comment that we really didn't know each other: that I knew who he was, but I didn't think the reverse was true.  About a month after I had made that comment, this man actually approached me and said, "I DO know who you are!  See, I'm telling you that I do know and have known who you are for a long time!"  Okay... except that I had actually been giving him the benefit of the doubt by assuming that he didn't acknowledge me because he didn't know who I was.  Frankly, it hadn't occurred to me that he was actually being intentionally rude or dismissive.  I just really didn't know how to respond to his acknowledging that he knew me.  Perhaps I should have named what I heard from him directly, "So, what I am hearing is that you haven't acknowledged me before, not because you don't know who I am but because you didn't feel it necessary to acknowledge me.  Perhaps it wasn't worth your effort to respond to me.  Or...?  Help me to understand this."  But I didn't.  Which leaves me wondering what he was really trying to communicate with all of this.
        Another situation:  A good friend of mine invited some folk over for dinner.  Since she (like many of my friends) is a vegetarian and doesn't cook with meat, she made what I felt was a hearty meal of a vegetable stew that was packed with beans, tofu, pasta and tons of vegetables and cheese, along with homemade bread, salad, hors d'oeuvres (including fruit, cheese, dips, vegies) and a home baked-fancy dessert.  A couple days later one of the people who attended the dinner said to her (within my hearing), "Well, I never before thought it was okay to just serve people soup, but now I know I can and I won't work so hard on meals I make for others."  I was shocked.  Um... how about "Thank you for the meal and the company"?  But what was interesting was that I don't actually think she meant to be hurtful.
        A person I know has been very fond of sharing the fact that when her daughter was very little (2 and 3 years old) the little girl would beg anyone passing by to come play with her.  The mother has no realization at all that telling this story always makes the hearers wonder why SHE didn't make the effort to play with her daughter herself.
        Another person I know has a husband who was trying to quit smoking after having some related health problems.  As we know, the first 30 days of trying to conquer any addiction can be trying.  This person bragged though that after 15 days of her husband acting grouchy, she went out and bought him a pack of cigarettes which she then insisted he smoke because, "Well, I didn't like his grumpy attitude."  So, half way through the hardest part, his grumpiness was more important to her than his health?
        One time I was standing with a group of people discussing plans for an event and the director of the project asked if someone on the committee could do a specific task.  One of the other members of the committee said, "Say 'Please'!" much to the embarrassment of all of us.  I was struck with wonder that someone could be trying to correct another person's social skills in such a completely socially unskilled way.
        On Facebook a while ago a friend of mine posted "happy birthday to three of my favorite people!" and she proceeded to name three close friends.  A person who is also a friend to all three of those people responded in the comments, "I'm tagging on here.  Happy birthday to..." and then named two of the three folk, even though the third was also his friend on Facebook and a close acquaintance, at least, in the real world.
        What do we communicate with our slights?  What are we really saying when we are rude to other people, or when we share times we've been unkind or inattentive or lacking compassion for others?  Why would we act this way?  Are we unaware that our own behaviors (as well as our words) reflect so much more on ourselves than on anyone else we might be trying to confront, make fun of, or judge?
          I know we all make mistakes.  And we all can do things or say things that affect other people in ways we don't see, don't expect or don't understand.  I am grateful to those people who actually tell me when I've communicated or done something that hurts others or hasn't been received well. But these other incidents end up also being gifts because they call me to pay more attention to what I'm communicating that I might not even be aware of.
         I think that during this stressful time we have choices to make about what we will contribute to the world in each day.  Do we give support and kindness, or do we act out with anger, harm or unkind actions?  Do we offer grace and compassion, or are we unforgiving and unkind?  We have a choice. Do you want your time on this earth to have contributed in a positive way to the lives of others, or did you want it to have negatively impacted the world?
         As I said, we all make mistakes.  And we are not always aware of what messages we actually send out, good or bad; the long term affects of our behaviors, for better or worse.  I hope you will tell me when I have done harm so that I can work on doing better.  For this day, I am working to hear more deeply what others are communicating and what I may be intentionally communicating as well.

Treasure in Small Places

2 Corinthians 4:1-18

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-46. 51-52

We make choices in life, especially about what we value, often without even realizing we are making those choices.  I think about this regularly, especially as it pertains to spending money.  I often have conversations about this with my kids, too.  Are we going to eat out tonight?  Or would you rather I put $100 towards paying off your student loans.  Would I rather have that mocha and scone at the coffee shop, or would I rather put that money towards a vacation with my family.  Should I give the money we received from our tax return to Hope Solutions, or should I put it away for college for the kids?  I try to be very intentional in our spending choices, recognizing that every time I choose to buy something that is a luxury or something to fix up the yard and or the house, which are still a mess, frankly, I am also making a choice NOT to spend that money towards my kids’ college expenses or towards feeding people who are in dire-straights right now.

We come today to some very interesting parables about the kingdom of heaven.  And while there were a bunch of them that we read today, there is definitely a predominant theme within them all, and especially within the last two.  The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure that someone hid in a field, which someone else found who then bought the field to obtain the treasure.  And the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. When he found one very precious pearl, he went and sold all that he owned and bought it.  Both of these tell the story of something so valuable that the protagonist in the story will give up everything to obtain it.

As you make your choices in life, is there something that you would give up everything for?  Everything?  Have any of you ever done that?  Given up everything for one thing?  Or for one person? 

“The kingdom of God is like…”  Jesus spoke in these parables and the disciples claimed that they have understood.  But I find myself both deeply blessed by these stories, but also a bit confused.  Is Jesus saying that we should seek the kingdom of heaven as the merchant sought the pearl, and as the person who bought the field, give up all we have to seek it because it and it alone is worth everything?  That interpretation would make sense.  We know that it is true.  God’s realm, God’s life, the life and love and connection that God offers should be and are worth everything.  But that doesn’t seem to be what he is saying here.  Does Jesus mean that WE are like that pearl or that treasure to God and God will give it all up for us?  This too makes sense and is true.  We know God did and does and will give up everything out of the deepest and truest love for us.  God gives up power, gives up control, gives up life in order to have real and genuine relationships of love and care with us.  But I don’t think that’s really what’s being said in these particular parables either.  I think perhaps these parables are much more straightforward.  The kingdom of God is the place where you come to KNOW what you really want, where you have the opportunity to gain it, and where you will happily and joyfully give up everything to attain it.   

In which case, I want to suggest, that the kingdom of God is much closer to us, ALWAYS, than we imagine.  The kingdom of God is here for us to be part of it, for us to see it, for us to enter it.  There are people who discover in this life what that thing is that they want beyond everything else, and who seek that out, being willing to give up everything for it, doing so, and finding their bliss.  It’s people who take risks, who trust that God is with them in those risks, and put fear aside to seek out what they want more than anything. 

I used to have a relative who had a dream of creating a successful business.  He really wanted to be an entrepreneur and create something that others found useful, valuable and that grew strong and big.  That was his dream.  He tried again and again, starting random businesses, which also failed again and again.  He was bankrupt on several occasions, without a penny in the world.  But he wanted to do this.  His family all thought he was nuts.  Completely nuts!  They would mention Paul and just shake their heads.  He was a fool in their minds.  A risky, stupid fool.  They knew he’d never make it and wanted him to just get a regular job, a real life.  They believed he’d be a sponger for his entire existence, just relying on his family again and again to bail him out.  But he kept trying.  He started one business, then another, then another.  Through that time he lost a spouse, he alienated much of his family.  He lost everything again, and again.  He gave everything to try to reach his pearl, to purchase the situation he wanted for himself.  Finally, he came across the idea of beginning a quick stop barber shop for both genders.  It took a little time, but Paul became the founder, owner, and CEO of Super Cuts.  He found his pearl of great cost, and he spent everything to get it, despite his family’s judgment, despite the losses he experienced.  He is now remarried to the love of his life, and he is extremely comfortably retired.  I have to admit, that wouldn’t be my goal.  That wouldn’t be what I would want or would see as blissful or the kingdom of God.  But it was what he wanted.  He wanted to create a business out of his imaginings and his gifts and he wanted it to grow and succeed. 

We may wonder what this has to do with God.  I mean his search for this job was a pearl that we may not understand or value or find godly at all.  But I want to suggest to you that God’s realm, the kingdom of God, that bliss of living in God’s light, God’s way, God’s presence can often be found in your heart’s desires.  God is in the dreams that you have, especially when you invite God in, especially when you seek for God’s will in your dreams, especially when you meditate on God’s call for your life.  Our family member, Paul, was a man of deep faith.  He remains so.  He took the wealth that he earned from his company and has done much to contribute to the church and to Christ’s work in the world with that money.  His seeking of his pearl was also an act of faith.  He trusted God to be there enough that even when he lost everything in pursuit of what we might think of as a worldly goal, he knew God would sustain him through the financial and emotional catastrophes and hard times.  Even when he lost his wife, he did not cave in, but kept working for his goal, seeking for that treasure. 

Children are often much closer to the kingdom of God than we are.  Our children have dreams, they have visions, they have hopes, they have sight that allows them to see the kingdom of God around them.  Recently a saw a post that said that a child was asked to list the seven wonders of the world and she was really struggling with it.  Finally, the teacher approached and asked her if she needed help.  She replied that she thought she was done but there were a couple more she could think of that didn’t fit into a simple list of seven.  The teacher asked what she had so far.  She listed as her seven wonders: hearing, smelling, tasting, seeing, feeling, laughter, and love.  She was seeing the kingdom of God, she was experiencing the kingdom of God, not in the yearnings of her heart, but in the joy of her heart.  Children are better at having awe and seeing the wonder and majesty in the world.  We, as parents and grandparents, sometimes are given the gift of seeing through their eyes.  The kingdom of God is like the awe and wonder of our children.

I saw another story about a child who was trying out for a part in the school play. He had his heart set on being in it, but chances were very good that he would not get a part.  On the day that the kids were learning what parts they were getting, the boy’s mother went to pick him up from school with not a little amount of fear and trepidation.  But her son rushed up to her, eyes shining with pride and excitement as he said,  'Guess what, Mom, I've been chosen to clap and cheer.'  Again, that vision into joy, that vision into possibility, that vision into God’s kingdom with us no matter what our lot in life.

In the book Finding Chika, Mitch Album wrote about a time he and his wife took Chika down to Disneyland.  He wrote,

“What I remember most is what you did first.  We entered through Main Street, passing souvenir shops.  The rides were up ahead and I wondered which would make you scream, ‘Can we do that one?’

Instead we passed a small pond, and a gray duck wandered out of the water.  And with Astro Orbitor to your right, Thunder Mountain to your left, and Sleeping Beauty’s Castle straight ahead, you pointed down and yelled, ‘Look!  A duck!’ And you chased after it and giggled wildly, ‘Duck! Duck!’

I glanced at Miss Janine who was smiling too.  With all those amusement park attractions calling, you got low to marvel at another living creature….

…you came along Chika.  And maybe because I’m older now, or maybe because your eyes were so much wider than mine, or maybe because it’s simply different when the child is in your care, something stirred.  I began to lean over, to see tiny miracles the way you saw them.  Baby ducks running.  Frogs hiding in the weeds.  The wind lifting a leaf you were about to grab.  One of the best things a child can do for an adult is to draw them down, closer to the ground, for clearer reception to the voices of the earth…”

           

            Chika, as with all young children, saw the kingdom of God, experienced the kingdom of God.  But as adults, sometimes we have a harder time hanging on to our dreams, our hopes and our vision of God.  We lose sight of those deep, deep yearnings and tuggings at our hearts because we stop having the faith that those come from God.  But the Kingdom of God is like the man who found a pearl of great value, sold everything and went and bought it.  The Kingdom of God is like a treasure hidden in a field that when found, the man who found it sold all he had to buy the field that contained that treasure.  And God wants you to be in and part of the Kingdom of God.  Not tomorrow, not after you die, but NOW. 

What is your pearl?  What is your treasure?  And do you trust God enough to let God lead you into the kingdom where you find, or with God’s help create, that which you value the most?  If you’ve forgotten what that is, I invite you to take time with God and ask what dreams God planted within you that you can’t remember.  If you’ve never had a dream like that, ask God what dreams God wants to plant within you to seek out. 

The Kingdom of heaven is here.  Waiting.  For you.

True Love

          I realize that title may be misleading.  I'm not talking about romantic love, but the love we are called to exhibit for one another.  I'm talking about the kind of love that is truly about working for the others' best and wants nothing in return.  That is genuine love.  That is true love.
        Some of you may say that doesn't exist, but it does.  (Spoiler alert for those who haven't seen or read all the Harry Potter stories) I've written before about the kind of love that Snape demonstrates for Lilly.  She didn't love him back.  She didn't return his feelings.  And yet he chooses to watch out for her child, a child he can't stand, because he loved and loves Lilly still.  He knows he will get nothing from her, indeed she is no longer living at the time he chooses these behaviors.  He seeks nothing in return.  He gives fully and completely out of his love for her.
       We see this similarly in the movie, "Love Actually" (again, another spoiler alert).  There is a man in the movie who is in love with his best friend's wife.  But he chooses out of deep love for both of them to simply distance a bit.  He does not seek to win her over, but he does little things (like making sure that his best friend does not "cheat" on her at his bachelor party, and hiring a surprise wonderful group of musicians for their wedding) that are deep expressions of his love for both of them.  He guises it under his care for his best friend, but as the movie progresses, it becomes clear that in fact, he has done all of this for her.  Again, he seeks nothing back.  He asks for nothing back.  His love is genuine, true, pure, in the deepest sense of the word.  It is not a "trade", it does not need something back in order to be real, it is not seeking anything.  His love is a gift, freely given.  It is true love in the deepest sense of the word.
        I could go on with examples from movies and books, because our stories are rife with examples of this kind of deep, selfless, true love.  Romantic love, love for siblings, love for children, love for friend - so many amazing stories of the kind of love that asks for nothing in return.
       And in real life?  I think most people have that kind of love for their children.  Of course there are exceptions- parents who reject their kids when their kids become people they don't like obviously did not give their love freely.  Instead, they give it conditionally upon the child behaving in a certain way or believing certain things or being a specific kind of person.  But I would hope that most parents love their kids unconditionally and fully.  But beyond that?
      I think there is a reason we put this kind of true love into our stories so often.  We all want it.  We all want to be loved in this kind of completely selfless, unconditional, true way.  Many of us want to be able to love like this too - to know that we are capable of unconditional loving.  But the reason these stories are so moving and profound and important to us is that unconditional, true love is rare.  It isn't the norm.  We expect something back in our love.  I love you so you love me.  I give out of my love to you, so I expect you to give it back to me.  I will care for you, and in return I expect you to agree with me, to support me in my deeply held convictions, to adjust to what I want to do.  It is rare that people have tolerance for the mistakes that others make, or true compassion in the face of perceived hurts, or grace towards others' best efforts if they aren't what we think is best, right and in our best interests.  I keep thinking about a blog post I wrote here in April of 2013 after I had just heard a woman on the radio talking about forgiveness.  She said that her fiancé had cheated on her and that she had responded by finding one of his friends and cheating in return. She said that as a result of that, she was now happily married.  She said, "My motto is, 'a lady's best revenge is forgiveness...after she's gotten even.'" Again, this was in 2013.  I would be utterly astonished if I were to discover that they are still married.  That isn't love.  It isn't forgiveness.  And it really sets a poor stage for any future trust.  But I fear this behavior is more normative than the true love we all seek, hope for, or want to embody in ourselves.  And that is especially true during times of deep stress like we are all experiencing right now.  It is far too easy to take things out on those around us, and it is far too common to think of one's own comfort and forget that others are equally stressed and struggling to be their best right now as well.
      We are called to embody those things that we believe to be true, good and right.  So perhaps we need to start by working a little bit harder at loving one another.  Try to offer more grace and compassion, even to those with whom you disagree.  Seek to be kind, even when it is hard.  Practice generous living and thinking.

Consolation

2 Corinthians 1:1-11,

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

               Last week we finished our study of the book of Job and this week we begin a study of 2^nd Corinthians.  So today I want to give you a bit of background on this book in the Bible and then focus specifically on today’s passage from 2^nd Corinthians as well as the passage from Matthew.

To give you a little background on this book, 1^st and 2^nd Corinthians are actually made of fragments of a number of letters to the Corinthians.  And these are an interesting couple of books because Paul is writing to a community that is unhappy with him, a community with whom he is in conflict.  They are upset with him for a number of reasons: some involving money – he wouldn’t take money in the form of a collection for his work from them, but he had taken money from the Macedonians, which some saw as a slight; apparently he made some statement about refusing money for his labor which had shamed some of the other leaders in Corinth who have taken up a collection; some felt his working with his hands was inconsistent with the life of an apostle; and some didn’t like that he used frankness as a means of asking for affection.  Also, he had promised a visit which apparently never took place.  And finally some in the Corinthian community came to a place of wanting to “test” his apostleship which deeply offended Paul.

Today’s passage comes from a fragment that is believed to be from his fourth letter to the Corinthians and includes all of 2^nd Corinthians 1-9.  As we hear, he is taking several steps to get into a better relationship with the Corinthians.  He pairs himself with Timothy because Timothy has a good relationship with the Corinthians, and he extends the letter to “all the saints throughout Achaia,” because the Achaians, too, were in a good relationship with Paul.  Paul’s wish of peace for them is a naming of his wish for reconciliation.  He emphasizes that Christians are not isolated from each other, that they are all partners in suffering and in receiving God’s comfort, and he tries to drum up some pity in his description of his suffering in Asia to try to soften their hearts towards him.

I think all of this behavior is familiar to us.  We’ve all done or seen others do similar things in attempts to heal or reconcile relationships, and Paul is very human in this way.  We will look at this in more depth in the upcoming weeks.  But for today, that should give you a solid background for proceeding through the book of 2^nd Corinthians.

Where I want to go in terms of today’s scriptures, both from 2^nd Corinthians and from Matthew is to take some time to look at human efforts and work, and the results of those efforts. In many ways, Paul comes from the exact opposite place from Job.  While Job and his friends came to their experiences with the belief that those who did good would have good lives and those who did bad would have bad lives; that the sign of being a good person was none other than having riches and comforts in this life (an idea that was overthrown by the rest of the book), Paul starts from the exact opposite place.  Paul is very clear that people of faith WILL suffer.  For Paul, association with the gospel guarantees being at cross purposes with the world, and experiencing affliction, distress and opposition.   If you choose to follow Christ, you WILL suffer, according to Paul.  We know Jesus did – he died because of his standing up for the oppressed and poor, for preaching love in the face of a society that valued law more.  And Paul, also experienced persecution for preaching Jesus’ message and gospel.  The ways of Christ are exactly opposite to the values of the world: they do not encourage riches, comforts and ease for oneself but instead ask us to give all we have and follow.  This will bring suffering, it will bring conflict, it will bring anger, opposition, persecution and affliction.  As a quote by Charles Bowen sent to me this week says it, “The rain, it raineth on the just, and also on the unjust fellow, but mainly on the just because the unjust steals the just's umbrella."  Paul is clear about that, just as Jesus was. 

The story from Matthew today similarly pointed out that no matter what you do in terms of doing the work of God, abuse will follow.  If you are truly doing the work of God, the work of Jesus, you will be in conflict with the world.  And that means that you will feel at times that you are getting nowhere in the work that you do.  But still, you are being called to be a sower, like God.  And if you are truly doing God’s work, you will experience some of it falling on land that is rocky, some that falls on shallow soil, some roots that look like they have planted will be torn out by the winds of concern over wealth, power, politics, and worldly comforts.

Being a person of faith, really looking at these scriptures and trusting in them is not for the faint of heart.  And trying to do the work of God in a world that focuses and values and uplifts those with money, power and fame - it is hard.  It is frustrating beyond measure.  I will tell you honestly that there are times when I despair.  What am I doing?  Have my words made one iota of difference in the way people live their lives?  Are people more faithful, more generous, more committed to caring for the poor and oppressed in any way because of things that I have said or done? Has my work made any kind of positive difference in this place or in the world?  Or am I just throwing seed on concrete?  This is especially true when sometimes I will preach a heartfelt sermon and have someone say to me, “that is exactly what I needed to hear today.” And then they will say something that is exactly opposite of what I tried to communicate. 

I remember doing a bible study in which the pastor was discussing the fact that his sermons made little difference and how he then decided to do everything differently and now his congregation lives in intentional poverty, giving almost all they have to the poor in some truly amazing ways.  And I hear stuff like that and know I don’t have the power, authority or charisma to make anything like that happen.  So it’s easy to start feeling that the seed I’ve tried to scatter is no good, that I have no chance of doing the work God wants me to do. 

I know I’m not alone in this.  Whole faith communities can start to feel like they are not really succeeding.  Congregations yearn for younger families and when they don’t come they can feel that they are failing at planting any kind of seed.  They aren’t succeeding.  Within our own families it can feel this way.  Talking to our teenagers, talking to family members with whom we disagree can feel like beating our heads against the wall. 

I want to share a story with you that I found in a commentary: Theodore J. Wardlaw wrote:

I once caught a glimpse of God and God's mercy in such a place. I was with a group of civic leaders—lawyers, politicians, foundation representatives, journalists—touring various outposts of our city's criminal justice system. It was near the end of the day, and we were visiting the juvenile court and detention center. That place was so depressing, its landscape marked by wire-mesh gates with large padlocks and razor wire wrapped around electrified fences. When the doors clanged shut behind us, I imagined how final they must always sound when adolescents—children!—are escorted there. We were led, floor by floor, through this facility by an amazing young judge who worked there. She showed us the holding cells where the new inmates are processed. She showed us the classrooms where an ongoing education is at least attempted. She showed us the courtrooms where cases are prosecuted.

Near the end of our tour, she led us down one bleak hall to give us a sense of the cells where young offenders lived. Each cell had a steel door with narrow slots about two-thirds of the way up, through which various pairs of eyes were watching us as we walked down the hall. Some of these children were accused of major crimes; some of them were repeat offenders. Most of them, we learned, had had little or no nurture across their brief lives—not from a primary adult who cared about them, not from family, not from neighborhood, not from church. It was hard to notice those eyes staring through narrow slots without doing something. So I lingered at one door and whispered to one pair of eyes: "God loves you." The eyes did not appear to register much, and sometimes I wonder what, if anything, happened next. Did that news fall on the path to get eaten by birds? Did it fall among thorns to get choked out? I will never know.

As the tour went on, the cumulative effect of all this brokenness got to one member of our group, who finally just stopped in the hallway and began to cry. When the judge noticed this, she paused in her narration, walked back and put her arms around that person, and, with tears in her own eyes, said, "I know. I understand."

I thought to myself, "If I am ever to be judged, I want a judge like that." Then it dawned on me—like a seed thrown onto my path—that indeed I do have a judge like that! …

Ultimately, though, with all due respect to the well-meaning allegorist, this parable is not so much about good soil as it is about a good sower. This sower is not so cautious and strategic as to throw the seed in only those places where the chances for growth are best. No, this sower is a high-risk sower, relentless in indiscriminately throwing seed on all soil—as if it were all potentially good soil. On the rocks, amid the thorns, on the well-worn path, maybe even in a jail!

Which leaves us to wonder if there is any place or circumstance in which God's seed cannot sprout and take root.

(Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary - Feasting on the Word – Year A, Volume 3: Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16).

Stories like today’s passage from Matthew are encouraging.  And this parable in particular is extremely comforting.  We all know that soil can surprise us.  We can plant things in the best possible way and have the plants die.  We can avoid planting things where we know they can’t possibly grow and discover something gorgeous growing there on its own.  Different soils lead to the growth of different plants, but beautiful, fruitful plants seem to grow in all kinds of different types of soil.  And things happen that can give us pause to think.  A friend of mine told me that she had a beautiful planter and she took great care to prepare the soil, to make sure everything was right and she planted petunias in it.  But they wouldn’t grow.  In a weird fluke, however, she noticed one day that apparently some of the petunia seeds had fallen out of the planter and had planted themselves in the crevice in the concrete near the planter box.  And out of this crevice she found that there was a beautiful petunia plant growing! 

The surprise of today’s parable story is not the frustration of years of planting work that ends up with most of the plants failing for one reason or another.  Instead, the miracle here is that despite persecution, lure of wealth, hardened hearts and “evil” that there are still disciples: that despite all the values of the world and the lure of wealth and fame, and the greed and “me, me, me” thinking, that there are still people who learn to love those who are different from them, those who are “other”, those who don’t have the same color, or background or social or economic class.  And that is an amazing, miraculous gift from God.  We are called to speak God’s truth of love.  We are called to work for justice and empowerment of all people.  We are called to feed and to serve and to offer grace in unexpected places.  We don’t know who will take what we do and run with it, grow from it, learn from it, deepen in their faith and their trust in God and in love.  We don’t know, but we are called to have faith in God’s abundance, to follow God’s model for sowing in abundance and trusting in abundant results.  Note that God, here, is not a “good business person”.  God doesn’t care about that, doesn’t measure value around that at all.  God, as the sower, throws the seed EVERYWHERE.  On the hard rock, on the weedy patches, on the shallow soil; trusting that there will be growth somewhere and that even one seed that sprouts is worth the effort of the sowing. 

Note also, that in part the success of all of this seed is not just on the sower, but on the community.  Do we help to till the soil?  Do we feed, water, and care for the seed that God has scattered?  And so, too, when we scatter seed: when we speak words of hope and truth and love.  It is not just up to us to do the work.  We have a community that then must take those seeds and nurture them, plant them deeper, do the work of caring for the plants that have begun to grow. 

There is a story of a man who moved to a new community that had incredibly rocky, inhospitable soil.  He tilled the ground, he mixed the soil with good soil, he nurtured and cared for the area and after years and years of hard work, he had an incredibly beautiful garden.  One day a visitor to the area came by and said to the man, “wow, God has created an amazing garden here!” To which the man replied, “well, when it was just up to God it was a mess!”  The point is that God includes us in the work of sowing and caring for the earth.  And that is NOT just about other people, and this applies on the small scale as well. 

What I mean is that we all have places within each of us, every single one of us, that are rocky, that are weedy, and that are shallow.  And we need to be intentional, not only about learning, and listening, but about beating those rough rocky places within into a softer soil, adding nurturing soil to the most inhospitable places inside of us, making sure we water and feed the soil of our lives so that we have fertile places where words, wisdom, love, compassion and grace can grow, being available for opportunities to get to know and hear new people and new things. 

What does any of this have to do with God?  Well, as Paul said, God’s consolation comes in measure to the suffering.  And it is always in great abundance.  When Jesus here in the parable of Matthew describes the yield – one hundred to one in some cases, or even the thirty to one in another case, he is talking about enormous abundance.  For a farmer, a 30 to one yield is enough to feed a village for a year.  A hundredfold would allow the farmer to “retire to a villa by the Sea of Galilee”.  That is the abundance of God.

But in the end we have to remember that ultimately we are not in charge of the outcome.  Our job is simply to do that which is in front of us to do.  We then have to let go of the results.  It reminds me of a scene from the movie “28 days”.  In the movie, everyone is at a rehab center dealing with their various addictions.  The main character, Gwen is talking with a professional baseball player.  She picks up a ball throws it at the mat that he has set up to practice his pitching and ball goes wild.  “Great” she says, “just one more thing I’m terrible at.”

“What were you thinking about?  When you threw the ball?”

“… I don’t know… the mattress.  You’re thinking about hitting the mattress”

“Well, that might sound funny to you but that’s all wrong.  You get all locked in on the strike zone and the next thing you know it’s looking about the size of a peanut. And you’re thinking, ‘wow!  I got to get that little ball in there?’  And you’ve psyched yourself right out of the game.  The strike zone, the call, the count, the batter… forget all that!  You got to think about the little things.  The things you can control.  You can control your stance, your balance, your release, your follow through.  Try to think about those little things and only those little things.  Cause you know, when you let go of the ball, it’s over.  You don’t have any say over what happens down there.  That’s somebody else’s job.”

I think about the Amy Grant song, “All I ever have to be”

“… And all I ever have to be is what you made me.  Any more or less would be a step out of your plan.  As you daily recreate me, help me always keep in mind, that I only have to do what I can find.  And all I ever have to be is what you made me.”

All we have to do is what is in front of us to do, and to trust that God will take care of the rest.  Our job therefore is not just to sow the seed, but to celebrate the abundant harvest when it comes, to celebrate when seed grows and people experience life in new ways.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Failure to see our own wrongs.

          I have said this before in a variety of ways, but I feel it must be said again, and this time perhaps more directly. 
           Whatever it is that bothers you most in other people is almost always a serious flaw within yourself.
          As our scriptures say it,  (Matthew 7:1-5): "Don’t judge, so that you won’t be judged. You’ll receive the same judgment you give. Whatever you deal out will be dealt out to you.  Why do you see the splinter that’s in your brother’s or sister’s eye, but don’t notice the log in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother or sister, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ when there’s a log in your eye?  You deceive yourself! First take the log out of your eye, and then you’ll see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s or sister’s eye." 
          Scott Peck, in his book, People of the Lie, describes the truth of my statement above as the root of evil behavior.  He says that people project out onto others the parts of themselves that they cannot face, cannot see, cannot accept and then they actively work to destroy it in the other: that this is what leads to evil.
          It's so easy to see the truth of this in others, and to know that as a result, our choice to self-reflect is absolutely critical for the well-being of the world.  Yet, most people still do not do this.  And even those who understand the depth of this at a core level will find it so much easier to see in other people than in ourselves.  But perhaps we need to start there, with our observation of others, to enable us to apply it in our own lives.
        I think about the first time I really understood the seriousness or the truth of this.  As a child I knew someone who was constantly putting down another woman whom she felt chose to be a victim and more, chose to use that victimization to manipulate and control the people around her into doing what she wanted them to do.  The person complaining absolutely hated this other woman, and actively worked to discredit her with other people, constantly pointing out her victimization stance and the way she controlled her world with it.  But even as I child I could see with absolute clarity that the woman complaining was actually a master at the very same behavior she was criticizing in this other woman. 
        I see this constantly: the person who says everything comes down to a power play is the one for whom power plays are paramount.  The person who says people don't listen who, himself, does not listen.  The person who becomes enraged at someone else's bullying who is themself a bully.  The person who says gossip is an issue who uses that same gossip as their primary weapon.  We see this at a national level, too - the ones condemning LGBTQ folk who are so often LGBTQ folk themselves who cannot face it until they are caught in a same-gender liaison; the person who condemns others as liars who cannot himself say one word of truth; those who brag about their humility when they are narcissists in every sense of the word; the one shouting about not being valued or treated as a full human being who cannot see the ways in which she oppresses everyone who does not look like herself.  I could go on and on.
        On an almost daily basis I hear or see someone being critical of others for doing exactly what they embody as a human being.  And, like Scott Peck, I have come to believe that this behavior is itself causing an amazing amount of the damage in our world.  The call to self-reflect, to face our own flaws, to admit them: these are actions that lead to healing, not only for ourselves but for the world.  And yet, these are the hardest things to do.   
        My own worship committee has debated about the importance of the prayer of confession in our worship services.  They have felt that it does not raise us up, but slams down those who already have low self-esteem.  I understand this thinking.  But the truth is that we don't get to healing, we don't move to a place of being able to accept grace, accept a new beginning, start again; without naming those things that have hurt us the most.  And the thing that has hurt us the most, nine out of ten times, I am convinced, is our own refusal to face ourselves: our shadows, the parts of our own beings that we don't want to see.  If we can seriously take self-inventory (as our 12-step brothers and sisters do), then we can change, we can grow, and we can heal.  By facing ourselves, we begin to heal ourselves, which in turn begins the healing of our society.
        As a country we are being called to look at a flaw that many of us don't want to see, and that is our racism.  We don't want to be part of this problem, we don't want to see it, and so we deny it.  But it is real.  It is part of our culture, it is deep in our history, it is in the very fabric of our being.  You might say it is in our blood.  And we can see that those who deny it are the very ones who are acting it out most in this moment with violence, with aggression, with terror on our brothers and sisters of color.  I understand that it is hard to look at, but it is necessary to look, to name it, to be willing to take a deep and hard look at the messages that are part of our being, at the ways in which we live those out and act those out, at the ways in which we are damaging ourselves by allowing harm to happen to our brothers and sisters of color.  We are called in this moment to self-reflection of a very painful, but deep, important and true kind.
        How?
        Start with education: There are wonderful books out there to read on the subject.  Some of the ones I've read include Biased by Jennifer L. Eberhardt, Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson, White Fragility by Robin J. DiAngelo, to name a few.  Join a book group that is reading these books so you have a place to discuss, to learn together, to face racism and our part in it, together.
        Move to action.  There are many groups that are taking action on this and if you would like to be hooked up with one, let me know.
        Most importantly, be willing to look at yourself.  I know it's hard.  I know this.  I comforted a very unhappy young woman yesterday who was lamenting her whiteness and feeling like she shouldn't exist in this world because of it.  But there is so much good we can do, as those with privilege, to support, empower, and challenge the system of oppression that denies power to our brothers and sisters.  I understand that self-reflection can lead at moments to despair, but without that intense inner look, there is no hope for movement out of destruction and into being helpers.  We are all on this journey.  All of us.  We need to take the steps together. 
        I started this post by pointing out that self-reflection is hard.  It is so easy to see the flaws of others and so hard to look at ourselves.  I include myself in this critique and I'm working with others to look at my own contribution to harm in this world.  I am grateful for the friends and community that allow me to do that work.  I encourage you to find the same.  We have to begin somewhere.  Being with those who love you enough to tell you the truth is the best place to start.  Thanks be to God for our communities of truth-telling. 

A Loving Response

A Loving Response

7/5/20

Job 41:1-8; 42:1-17

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Suffering leads to deeper relationships with God.  OR, genuine relationship with God should be the goal.

               Today we finish up the story of Job, and as you heard, in many ways it is like a fairy tale ending.  Everything was wrong and now everything is right again.  But there is so much more in this final passage, and in the arc of the story that I want to focus on today.

As you may remember from a month ago, the book of Job begins with the accuser challenging the authenticity of Job’s goodness.  He basically says that Job is faithful and good because he believes that will be rewarded.  It’s quid pro quo.  I’ll do what you want me to do, God, and then, God, your job is to reward me.  And the accuser at the very beginning says that this is not a sign of being a good person.  This is payment for work done.  It is an exchange of goods, a trade.  He says Job is not innately good. He is just doing what he believes will bring him what he wants.  And both the accuser and God seem to be on the same page with the conclusion that this is, frankly, wrong.  This is NOT a good or right reason to be faithful or good. 

Why is it not a good reason?  This goes back to the mistaken idea that life is fair and just.  We discussed that a month ago, but it comes up here again as well since part of today’s passage is God confronting Job’s friends and telling them they were wrong.  Again, remember that Job’s friends kept telling Job that he was just reaping what he must have sown.  And God here clearly states that they are mistaken.  Their ideas about good people being rewarded and bad people being punished are just plain in error.  But again, we talked about this a month ago.

So today I want to focus more on the second problem with just being good in order to get what we want.  And I want to start again by asking you to think about why you are faithful and why you go to church.  Is it, like Job, because you are trying to win a way into heaven?  We know that for many, people answer this question with, basically “for heaven insurance”.  Many people have faith and go to church because they believe that is what will guarantee them entrance into heaven.  They are paying for their afterlife.  This is an exchange of goods idea, it is trade thinking.  For these people, they don’t come to church because it is meaningful to them now, or because they really feel called to give, and they don’t have a relationship with God because it is valuable, life-giving or important to them on a daily basis.  They are faithful and go to church because it is payment now for heaven reward later.   But I would say that even for those people who are not looking at an afterlife, for many, they are still using their faith, their actions and their church attendance as payment for good things in this life.  We still desperately want life to be fair.  And we believe that if we are good, if we do right, that we will be rewarded.  More problematically, we tend to believe that if other people are suffering, it must be because they have not tried, they have not worked, they have not “earned” the good things that we have.  We assume this in our very cores and tend to act this out in unbelievably cruel ways.  We assume that people who’ve been killed did something to deserve it.  We blame them for what they have experienced because then it makes life feel “fair”.  We believe that poor people are lazy.  We blame them for their own poverty.  We believe that those who are refugees or are suffering oppression must somehow be innately less-than, must deserve it, must have earned the trauma and disasters that they are experiencing.  We attack people who are already down, just like Job’s friends, saying that it is their fault that they are suffering, or enslaved, or imprisoned, or killed or kept down.  We become complicit with evil when we try to justify it happening and fail to call it for what it is. 

 I understand this thinking.  It is a way to regain a sense of control in our own lives.  If life is fair, then all we have to do is be good, do right, and we will be fine.  We can feel that all we have we have earned and we do not owe payments to the larger society or to one another.  We can feel a smug self-righteousness about what we have, what we do and who we are.

 Job, as we’ve discussed, was not exempt from this thinking.  He, too, believed that life was fair, that goodness would be rewarded, that his faithful actions would lead to good things.  His friends believed this too: hence their speeches.  But today’s passage is a confrontation of that.  God says, in no uncertain terms, that this is not the case.  Job’s friends, he states, are wrong: absolutely and unequivocally wrong.  That’s not how life – now, or after death – works.  You cannot “buy” good things, a good life or heaven in this way.  And if you are trying to do that, that is not genuine faith.  But more importantly, it is not a sign of being a good person.  That kind of thinking involves a complete lack of both humility and compassion for the other, and it is not what God wants for us.

I think about the parishioners I’ve heard about, and those who have come to me, who have wanted, begged even, over the years, for an actual experience of the Divine.  They usually have some formula for how they will achieve that, how they will find it.  And it, too, seems to be based on this “currency” model of relationship with God.  If I only do x, then I will receive what I am hoping for.  If I only go to church, pray more, do better, then God should reward me with a deep and true experience of the Divine.

And this leads me to the main part of what I want to talk with you about today.  The unfortunate truth is that all of those people I know who have had genuine, real experiences of God: those experiences have not come from being good or doing good.  Those experiences have come, without exception, from suffering. 

I am not saying that God causes suffering.  But I believe with everything in me that God is still creating, taking chaos and bringing good out of it.  And this is nowhere more clear than when God uses our suffering to bring resurrection and the highest good to our lives.  Suffering has many gifts with it.  It teaches humility, it helps us to grow, helps us to empathize.  More, suffering shows us who we really are.  How we respond to that suffering- either with anger or with compassion, shows who we are at our core.  Richard Rohr says transformation takes place in only two ways: either through great love or great suffering. 

And again, the impact of that suffering on our understanding and experience of God?  Job’s suffering and his lament allowed him to see God: Job was completely transformed by his experience of suffering.  Before his suffering he did not see beyond himself: his needs, his wants, what he needed to do to earn what he needed and wanted.  It was only through his suffering that he was given a larger vision of the world, its beauty, its immense majesty, its awesomeness.  And then a vision of God-self.

Perhaps even more profoundly and deeply than the story of Job is the story of Jacob.

Genesis 32:22-32:  That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two female servants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.  After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions.  So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.  When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man.  Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” The man asked him, “What is your name?” “Jacob,” he answered.  Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”  Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.” But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.

               The very word, the very name “Israel” means “one who struggles with God”.  And that is deeply profound.  The very roots of our faith tradition stem from a struggle with God.  We experience, see, and have full relationship with God only when we are willing to jump fully into the questions, and into the pain of life.  When we choose to be fully real and transparent and engaged with God and God’s life, then we experience God.

               That brings us back to my first point:  why, then, should we really have faith?  And why should we go to church?  I think about when Jesus asked the disciples (John 6:67) “do you also want to leave?” and Simon Peter’s response, “Lord, where would we go?”  Their love for him was so great and so deep that they could not imagine being any place else.  It is like when we love our families.  The idea of going away from them makes no sense.  It is that love, that committed, unconditional love that is the only reason for our faith, for our commitment, for our dedication to God and to our community, to one another.

Job’s reason for his actions change completely.  And they change at the point of his lament, at the point of his crying out to God – it is in his suffering that his person changes, it is in his suffering that his reason for his actions changes.  He goes from being a person who is doing good in order to buy what he wants into a person who is actively and lovingly seeking a relationship with God.  His suffering opened up for him, pushed him to be absolutely real, himself, to wrestle, like Jacob, with God.    Until he spoke his pain, his goal of gaining for himself and then his self-obsession with his pain blocked his vision of God, blocked his ability even to see the amazing beauty of creation.  But his suffering broke him open so that the light could finally come in.  It broke him so that he could then see the beauty of creation and come to love God fully and completely. 

           I want to make one final point concerning Job.  Job never receives a real answer about why people suffer.  Instead he is shown a God who cares about that suffering and is there with him in that suffering.  In the end, this answer is enough for Job.  He has grown through his pain into being the person God called him to be: a person of humility who has seen God, who loves God and is choosing relationship with God.  God’s creative powers are not finished with any of us: there is still order that needs to be found, there is still chaos that needs to be subdued.  God is still creating until the world is at peace and justice has come.  God is still speaking.  God continues.  And so we end with the disaster that was Job being transformed, renewed and brought back to life:  God offers that to us as well: to bring beauty out of our chaos, and new vision out of our suffering. 

Our call to faith, our call to relationship with God should be about our love for God.  And our actions: coming to church, but also serving and caring for God’s people: these should be responses of gratitude for the relationship, the love, the care that we have for God.  We should not be acting “good” in order to manipulate God into gifting us with good things.  Instead, we act in faith and love because God first loved us and in gratitude for God’s love, we cannot help but respond with giving back.

Disagreements in Faith Communities

         When the PCUSA made the decision in 2013 to ordain LGBTQ+ people, there was a strong push back from many people in our churches.  Many people who had wanted this inclusion had hung in with the church for a very long time before the decision was made.  They had chosen to stay within a body even when things were different from what they believed to be right, to be moral.  They stayed, and worked for change.  However, when the decision was made to open up our ordination limitations, many people who disagreed with this new decision left their individual congregations and many congregations left the denomination.  Many people grieved that loss of those members, but more, I think they struggled to understand why they were expected to stay despite disagreements when other's had their way, but those same others would not in turn stay if they did not have things going their way.
       Regardless, the choice for those other churches to leave has, in many ways, made other decisions in the national church easier.  As a denomination we are more on the same page now, the great differences in our opinions and beliefs are hugely lessened in the wake of those who have left.  While the decision to leave made a big statement, it was a one-time statement that left no room for any weigh-in on any future decisions.  And that, then, is the cost of leaving.  Once you have left, your voice no longer carries the weight it had when you were willing to still be in conversation with those with whom you disagreed.  You can no longer impact decisions, you no longer have sway or persuasive authority.  Your last vote, your last voice, was cast when you left.  The denomination as a whole has swung, has moved, because the "center" is now in a very different place than it was before congregations and individuals left the church.
         One of the things I find interesting about this, though, is that while we have fewer disagreements within our denomination now, in some ways those disagreements are now more heated.  It seems that when the church mirrors yourself more fully, the disagreements are more painful.  There is more "buy-in" when the body is less diverse in opinion and looks more like you in terms of values.  And so when that body disagrees, that disagreement seems more painful.
         All of this is true on the smaller scale as well.  I remember reading somewhere that by year five of a pastorate, a congregation tends to look like its pastor.  I also remember thinking as I read the article that I didn't think this was actually accurate for most Presbyterian churches.  Certainly it has not been accurate for the churches I have served.  Presbyterian churches, for those who don't know, aren't run by their pastors.  They are run by sessions, or boards, that make the decisions for the congregations.  Pastors are "teaching elders" which means we teach, we preach; our power is persuasion and not ultimate authority.  In contrast, the elders who serve on our sessions are "ruling elders" - they make the decisions for the congregation.  I have yet to be part of a congregation in which every decision made by the session was something I agreed with.  And that remains true no matter how long I've been in a church.  I served one church for 8 1/2 years and at the time of my leaving there were still decisions made with which I disagreed.  That was also the case with the next congregation where I served 6 1/2 years.  And this is true of the church where I have been serving for the last five years as well.
            And what has been interesting to me is that, just as debates in the larger church seem more painful when the body tends to be more homogenous in terms of beliefs, decisions in the more homogenous congregations (theologically) tend to be impacted at a deeper level too.  My last congregation was extremely theologically and politically diverse.  When decisions were made that some people did not agree with, it was easier to shrug them off, to delight in the diversity of opinions and differences.  For myself, besides enjoying the different voices and remembering that the body of Christ contains all different parts, I would remember that as the pastor, I was a servant to the congregation, but that I was not a member of the congregation.  The church was the people who made up the membership of the congregation.  And I was there to pastor them, but it was, ultimately, not my church.  Pastors come and go, but the church remains the people. That distinction may feel strange, but it is and was a necessary distinction.  I was there to guide, to encourage, to give my insight from a theological perspective.  But I was not there to control, to insist or even to "lead" in the sense of taking charge and determining the future of the church.
           But I see that in my current congregation, which in many ways is more theologically homogenous, when disagreements do arise, the pain of difference, the pain of disagreement, seems so very much harder to take for everyone involved.  And again, I think that's a symptom of the homogeny that has been shared.  Is this a good thing?  There are definitely gifts in hearing voices of difference.  There are also definite gifts in being like-minded in terms of being able to make a difference and impact the world around us in a more definite way.
           I think the trick in all of this is to find balance, always.  And to learn some tolerance for different opinions.  We can't grow unless we hear other voices.  And we can't make a difference unless we are saying something in a different way or with a different voice than others have inside their own heads.  So the questions of who we want to be in the world, what kind of difference we choose to make, and how we want to be in relationship to one another are important.  Especially in this time of increased polarization, sitting around the table with different opinions and voices is necessary and invaluable.  When we leave the conversation, we can no longer contribute in that way.  Maybe your reason for staying in a church community should not be because that community serves you, supports your beliefs, and validates your thinking.  Perhaps your reason to stay should instead be because the church needs you, your voice, your opinions, and your vision.   Are we here to give or to receive?  Are we here to serve or to be served?  I understand that this does not always make our communities and conversations comfortable.  But is the goal really our comfort?  Jesus never called us to be comfortable.  Jesus called us to heal, to bring justice, and to be willing to lose our lives in order to gain them.  Therefore, these questions are the questions we must ask as people of faith.

And God Shows Up

             Job 31:35-37; 38:1-11, 25-27, Job 42:5

Mark 10:35-45

A salesman, driving on a lonely country road one dark and rainy night, had a flat.  He opened the trunk - no lug wrench.  The light from a farmhouse could be seen dimly up the road.  He set out on foot through the driving rain.  Surely the farmer would have a lug wrench he could borrow, he thought.  Of course, it was late at night - the farmer would be asleep in his warm, dry bed.  Maybe he wouldn’t answer the door.  And even if he did, he’d be angry at being awakened in the middle of the night.  The salesman, picking his way blindly in the dark, stumbled on.  By now his shoes and clothing were soaked.  Even if the farmer did answer his knock, he would probably shout something like, “What’s the big idea waking me up at this hour?”  This thought made the salesman angry.  What right did that farmer have to refuse him the loan of a lug wrench?  After all he was stranded in the middle of nowhere, soaked to the skin.  The farmer was so selfish - no doubt about that!  The salesman finally reached the house and banged loudly on the door.  A light went on inside, and a window opened above.  A voice called out, “Who is it?”  His face white with anger, the salesman called out, “you know darn well who it is.  It’s me!  And you can keep your blasted lug wrench.  I wouldn’t borrow it now if you had the last one on earth!”

Job has asked for vindication, Job has declared to God that his treatment is unfair.  Job knows he is a righteous man – we are told, in fact that he was “blameless and upright”, and so he is angry at what he sees as unfair treatment and he’s been hollering at God.  Today we hear part of God’s answer to Job and at first glance it appears that God is answering with anger, that Job’s yelling at God is somehow displeasing to God.  He certainly doesn’t appear to answer Job’s questions.  As the God character in Joan of Arcadia said, “you notice I’m not answering the questions.”  And while some might say this is because it is like a human trying to explain to his/her pet the theory of relativity, for Job, as for any of us asking the “why!” questions and not receiving the answers we are hoping for, this must have been extremely frustrating.  Especially when God responds to Job with questions such as “Who is this darkening counsel with words lacking knowledge?” and “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations?” it would seem that God’s goal is simply to push Job back into his place and straighten him out.

Those comments are in many ways echoed by Jesus in today’s passage from Mark as Jesus responds to James and John’s request to sit next to Jesus when he comes in his glory.  “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?!”  And while we know that the answer is really “no”, that James and John really can’t or at least, not to the same degree, share in the cup that Jesus drank or be baptized in the same way as Jesus, still James and John have the nerve, the gall to say that they can follow Jesus in this way, without really understanding what that means.  One might wonder if, after Jesus then turns around and says, “Okay, you will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with,” if they don’t then think to themselves “Holy Cow.  What have we just signed up for??!!”  It might appear that Jesus is responding to their gall, to their nerve with punishment – and the promise of the persecution and death that Jesus himself experienced.

But while both of these passages might be heard as God responding to audacity and nerve with anger or even punishment, I think that they both call us to a deeper look, first at those who approach God and then at God’s response to that approach. 

Job was yelling at God.  And while, like with James and John we might at first find ourselves asking, what nerve, and what gall it must take for a person to say such things to God, I think we have to look at what this says about Job.  There are only two situations in which someone could have that much nerve, to declare themselves innocent and upright and demand that God vindicate them.  The first is that they are beyond caring.  Some might say this is the case with Job, but I don’t hear it this way.   If Job were beyond caring I don’t think he would engage God at all because engaging the other, even in anger, is still an act of caring, it is still being in the relationship, it is still connecting.  If Job was beyond caring, he would have written God off.  But he didn’t do that.  He yelled, he expressed anger, and to me that is a sign that he is still in full relationship with God.  So what is the only other explanation for that kind of nerve or gall?  As we discussed last week, it is faith.  Job had an amazing faith that God would hear him, would respond to him, and will vindicate him!  He is saying to God, “I see all that you have done!  I have faith in all that you have done in the world – amazing, wonderful things.  So where are you now when I need you?  Where are you now because I need you!”  That is faith.  That is trust.  That is a relationship with God.

James and John, too, express an extraordinary amount of faith simply in making their request.  This story of James and John follows immediately after Jesus announces his coming death for the third time.  He has just said, “They will condemn me to death and will hand me over to the Gentiles, who will mock me and spit on me, flog me and kill me. Three days later I will rise.”  Jesus has just declared a horrible, awful death.  And yet, even after Jesus has declared this, so in other words, no matter how bad things may look or sound, James and John are so sure of Jesus' final victory that they sign up to go with him.  This is faith.  This is a depth of faith that says that they are even willing to give their lives because they are so sure of the outcome, so sure that Jesus will overcome. 

So, Job, James and John have just expressed strong faith in their God.  And God’s response?  Well, when we get yelled at, I think we react in one of two ways most often.  We either walk away – showing that we don’t care enough about the relationship to engage the discussion – or we engage it back in some way.  Which does God choose?  God chooses to respond!  To stay engaged.  To stay in the relationship and even engage us further.

Barbara Brown Taylor says that we can get angry and even impolite with God because "God prefers Job's courage to the piety of Job's friends…Devout defiance pleases God. It may even bring God out of hiding, with a roar that lays our ears back against our heads and makes the angels shout for joy".

I love those statements: “Devout Defiance pleases God.”  And “It may even bring God out of hiding with a roar that lays our ears back against our heads and makes the angels shout for joy.”  And I think that in today’s passages, this is exactly what God expresses.  God responds to Job out of the whirlwind, which to me does not say that God responded to Job in anger, but that God stepped out of the chaos that was Job’s life, God stepped out of what must have felt to Job like God hiding, to SHOW UP!!  Job yelled at God and was rewarded by God’s very presence.  Yes, God challenged Job, but the story tells us that Job found comfort and life in God’s words, too – a reminder that God is still there, that God is still present, God is still in charge and that God has Job’s best interests at heart.  That’s what God does when God shows up – both comforts and challenges us to look at our lives in a different way, to see in a different way, to engage life, no matter what we have been handed, with a vision of gratitude and grace – which is exactly what Job is given.  What an amazing, awesome gift.  Job yells at God and God SHOWS UP! 

We ended today’s Job passages with these words from Job: “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes behold you.”  And in this case, “behold” is intimate, close, is about seeing and understanding.  No where else, NO WHERE else in our scriptures does someone say they behold God.  That gift of being given sight, being given that kind of close interaction/vision with God is given ONLY to this person who took the risk of speaking his truth to God, fully, completely, with pain and anger, yes; but more with faith, trust and commitment to the relationship with God.  Job’s lament, Job’s words made room for his vision of the beauty of the world to return.  They made space within him for awe and a sense of wonder and appreciation to return to him.  He laid the ground work of having a genuine experience of God by being genuine himself, by being transparent, and completely real.

For James and John, too, when they demand that Jesus give them whatever they ask for, Jesus doesn’t scorn them or walk away, or even act repelled.  He asks them what they want him to do for them.  And then when they tell Jesus that they want to be seated next to Jesus when Jesus comes into his glory, Jesus does not dismiss them then either.  He, too, instead, engages their devout defiance.  He, too, enters into conversation with them, is present with them.  But then, he, too, brings both comfort and challenge – okay, if you want to follow me, you will do exactly that – which both promises death and promises the resurrection to follow.

The deepest gift in both of these texts is that God stays with them even in the face of their audacity and gall.  God shows up, is present, continues to engage them in an ever deepening relationship with God-self.  It comes back to relationships: Job wants to talk to God and God wants to talk to Job. And that, THAT is beyond amazing.  It is the dialogue and conversation that is so crucial: that’s the relationship right there.  And I would say that is the case between people as well.  Our choice to stay in relationship is what is most important.

Barbara Brown Taylor explains the gifts of God’s responses in these texts this way… "the worst thing that can happen (to us) is not to suffer without reason, but to suffer without God – without any hope of consolation or rebirth."

Rabbi Albert Lewis described the alternative, the experience of those without an experience of God’s presence, with these words, “I had a doctor once who was an atheist….This doctor liked to jab me and my beliefs.  He used to schedule my appointments deliberately on Saturdays, so I would have to call the receptionist and explain why, because of my religion, that wouldn’t work…  One day, I read in the paper that his brother had died.  So I made a condolence call…(in this job you don’t retaliate).  So I go to his house and he sees me.  I can tell he is upset.  I tell him I am sorry for his loss.  And he says, with an angry face, ‘I envy you.’  ‘Why do you envy me?’  I said.  ‘Because when you lose someone you love, you can curse God.  You can yell.  You can blame (God).  You can demand to know why.  But I don’t believe in God.  I’m a doctor!  And I couldn’t help my brother.’  He was near tears.  ‘Who do I blame?’ he kept asking me.  ‘There is no God.  I can only blame myself.’  That, is a terrible self-indictment.  Worse than an unanswered prayer.  (For) it is far more comforting to think God listened and said no than to think that nobody’s out there.” (HALF, p 81, 82)

We have the most precious gift of knowing that someone is out there.  We know that God is with us, and even more that God does answer our prayers, usually not in the ways we expect, but always in faithful, present ways.  We can be brave with God, we can speak out truth to God - God knows what we really think and feel anyway, so we may as well tell God.  When we choose that kind of real honesty, real openness with God, God shows up.  For God wants relationship with us as much as we want relationship with God.  Call out to God, speak to God.  In return we find God’s very being. 

But also take this to the next step.  Just as God’s response to those who argue with God is for God to show up, our relationships to those who take the time to talk to us is a call also to show up.   To listen, to be present.  Thanks be to God!