Living in the Mystery – Sermon Oct 24, 2010
October 24, 2010
Scriptures:
Joel 2:23-32 2: O children of Zion, be glad and rejoice in the Lord your God; for he has given the early rain for your vindication, he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the later rain, as before. The threshing floors shall be full of grain, the vats shall overflow with wine and oil. I will repay you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent against you. You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you. And my people shall never again be put to shame. You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel, and that I, the Lord, am your God and there is no other. And my people shall never again be put to shame.
Then afterward I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. Even on the male and female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit. I will show portents in the heavens and on the earth, blood and fire and columns of smoke. The sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved; for in Mount Zion and in Jerusalem there shall be those who escape, as the Lord has said, and among the survivors shall be those whom the Lord calls.
2 Timothy 4:6-8: As for me, I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come. 7I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8From now on there is reserved for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have longed for his appearing.
Luke 18: 9-14: He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Sermon: Living in the Mystery
By Rev. Doreen Oughton
At one point in my life, one of my favorite spiritual practices was walking late at night. The road I walked had houses set quite far back on one side, and on the other side there was a stretch of wooded area. There was lots of darkness and interesting smells and noises of the night – crickets, night birds, a train in the distance, the wind, or just the sound of my own foot falls. Sometimes I would be startled by bats flying nearby, and twice I startled a ground nest, causing a flutter of wings. Once I got past the surprise, I had to smile and greet the creature. I felt so connected, so at one with nature. It was been a nourishing and peaceful experience.
All this changed when I read in the paper that there was a sighting of a mountain lion in the town. At first I thought this was cool – a former city girl now living out where there are mountain lions! But one night I blissfully headed out on my walk and was on the part of the road bordered by woods. I heard something move, something big. It was not a bat, for sure. Something was really rustling around in there. And it hit me – mountain lion! I froze in my tracks, heart pounding wildly, my mind racing to recall if you are supposed to stare down a mountain lion, fight it or run. The rustling stopped and I took a few tentative steps. Then I worried that it was waiting for me to turn my back to get me from behind. I looked around to see if there was a big stick or rock nearby in case I had to fight it. I couldn’t see anything. After another minute or so I told myself I was being silly and turned and continued on my walk. I walked briskly, chastising myself for being so ridiculous, but my heart never stopped pounding until I was walking up my own driveway. I was reluctant to go out after that. You see, I was reminded that this is nature, wild and scary, mysterious, not domesticated. And I didn’t have to see the lion to know this in my body.
Today’s Hebrew scripture, the passage from Joel, does a similar thing to me. It tells me first of God’s abundant blessings, how God will fill us to overflowing, that his Spirit will be poured out upon all. But then it says that some of the “wonders” God will show include blood and fire and billows of smoke, sun turning to darkness and the moon to blood. I am reminded that this is God, wild and scary, mysterious, and most definitely not domesticated. I don’t have to see this vision of apocalypse to know this in my soul. How I struggle with these depictions of God, the wrathful and jealous God who, yes, repays the people of Zion for the years of the locusts, but who is seen as sending the locusts in the first place. The God who pours out his Spirit in the most egalitarian manner, but plans a day of judgment upon which only some will be delivered. And it’s not just this God of the Hebrew scriptures that I struggle with. I’m also troubled by the parable told by Jesus in Luke, that the Pharisee, a holy man who has followed the law beyond the letter, and praises and gives thanks to God, does not meet God’s standard.
To add to my confusion we have Paul who says he’s been rescued by the Lord from every evil attack, yet is in chains in prison, has been beaten and suffered great physical hardship throughout his life of ministry. There seems to be no desperate plea from Paul to God. He doesn’t feel abandoned, doesn’t question God’s steadfast presence, but voices an unshakeable confidence that he will wear the crown of glory. He has fought the fight, finished the race and kept his faith. Sounds a little like the Pharisee proclaiming his righteousness, expecting glory. These Hebrew and the New Testament scriptures to me have a similar message – we haven’t got God all figured out. God’s ways are not our ways.
Each of the scripture passages also lifts up the idea of pouring out – God pouring out rain for grain, overflowing vats, food aplenty, pouring out of the Holy spirit. Paul being poured out as a libation, and the sinner in the parable pouring out his heart. It occurs to me that it is difficult both to receive the pouring out of God and difficult to pour ourselves into holy living. Can we stand this wild and scary, mysterious, untamed life in God? We may claim that we want to be close to God, that we love God, but sometimes what we want is a tamed God, a God who will give us nice weather for the barbecue, a God we can bargain with, a God who understands that we don’t really mean any harm, who knows so well the goodness of our hearts that we don’t ever have to be really accountable for our failings. Sometimes, we want a God who will protect us and keep us safe, a God who not only gives us comfort, but is comfortable and concerned about our comfort. There is ample evidence in the bible, and probably in our own lives, that God is passionately, deeply concerned with us, but not so much with our comfort. In fact I suspect that an important way for God to get to us, and for us to get to God is through our discomfort. God doesn’t seek to heal us from our discomfort – our suffering, our wounds, but seeks to heal us through them. To really let God in, to let God pour himself into our lives, is to open ourselves up to something wild and scary. We are asked to endure discomfort, we are asked to touch the wounds of ourselves and others.
Believe me, I totally understand an interest in comfort. I don’t like to be too cold. I have my special pillow. I have a little sheepskin cover for my safety belt because the bare belt is so rough on my shoulder. But sometimes my aversion to discomfort causes me to miss a lot. Several members of my large family go on a hiking trip each summer. After hearing about the beautiful vistas, the camaraderie, and all the stories, I tried a shorter hike with them – once. I never went again. It was just too hard, too uncomfortable. When I came across this list of suggestions to a national park in Wyoming, I had to laugh, not just at the folly of it, but at the way I identified with it. Hear these comments and suggestions submitted: There are too many bugs and leeches and spiders and spider webs. Please spray the wilderness to rid the area of these pests. – The coyotes kept me awake last night. Please eradicate these annoying animals. – A small deer came into my camp and stole my last jar of pickles. Can I get reimbursed? – Escalators would help on the steep sections. – A McDonalds would be nice at the trailhead. – There are too many rocks on the mountain.
You see how easy it is to forget that we are only part of God’s creation, how easy it is to lose sight of the big picture, the magnificence of it all. We forget that it is not just about us, but that God’s creation, including us, exists for the glory of God.
I know most days I’m a lot more comfortable hearing about God than I would be hearing from God. I mean, listen to the things God has said to our ancestors –To Abraham – leave your home and go to a new land, take your son and make of him an offering. To Moses – lead my people out of Egypt. (God doesn’t tell him he will wander the desert for forty years and personally will never make it to the promised land.) Listen to what Jesus has said – leave your livelihood and families and follow me, lose your life so you can save it, take up your cross. No, God is not concerned about our comfort, but with making us holy. Holy living is not comfortable. It means opening our eyes wide to all the suffering and joy that surrounds us. It means seeing our part in it and allowing our hearts to be turned. It is disciplined prayer, fasting and tithing, and it is also opening ourselves to the rogues and thieves and tax collectors. The outpouring of God’s love is not safe. It is powerful. It created the earth and seas and all that lives in them. It has the power to console us in our deepest grief, to inspire us to unimaginable acts of courage and care.
I’m thinking of the mother who loves her children more than anything, and is bereft, only half a person, when the state removes them from her care due to her addiction. I’m thinking about how, when the state determined that she was ready to have them back, she, knowing her relapse history better than they did, said no. Give my children a little more time in their safe, loving foster home. I need to be certain that I am strong and stable enough. I’m thinking of the courage of a young man who has endured a lifetime of trauma, who believes he needs drugs to get through the day, who starts out going for counseling under court order but takes a chance and talks about what is really going on. He knows the counselor has the authority to report him to probation. His freedom hangs in the balance, but he talks honestly and openly. He risks an authentic relationship. These people may not even consider themselves spiritual, but isn’t God’s Spirit moving in them, that powerful Spirit of truth and love?
No God is not safe. Could we really worship and revere a safe God? Could we believe in the extravagant promises of eternal life in the Beloved Community if they were made by a God concerned about good parking spots and wins for the home team? Could we really hold onto the hope for true justice and joy if God was just a magician who could do our bidding? What do we really want and need from God? Perhaps it truly is only God who knows, and we are not meant to, cannot. The mysterious ways of God are not to be explained, understood, manipulated, but to be held in fear and trembling, in awe.
Eventually I reclaimed my night walks. The first night out I went out with butterflies in my stomach and a small club in my hand. It was not relaxing. I was nervous but alert, even excited. It was enlivening. I don’t know if it was safe, but it was good, very good.
