Suffering for Christ – sermon on April 17, 2016
Mark 13: 9-11 Jesus said to them: “You must be on your guard. You will be handed over to the local councils and flogged in the synagogues. On account of me you will stand before governors and kings as witnesses to them. And the gospel must first be preached to all nations. Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit.”
Acts 17: 1-10 When Paul and his companions had passed through Amphipolis and Apollonia, they came to Thessalonica, where there was a Jewish synagogue. As was his custom, Paul went into the synagogue, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that the Messiah had to suffer and rise from the dead. “This Jesus I am proclaiming to you is the Messiah,” he said. Some of the Jews were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a large number of God-fearing Greeks and quite a few prominent women.
But other Jewish leaders were jealous; so they rounded up some bad characters from the marketplace, formed a mob and started a riot in the city. They rushed to Jason’s house in search of Paul and Silas in order to bring them out to the crowd. But when they did not find them, they dragged Jason and some other believers before the city officials, shouting: “These men who have caused trouble all over the world have now come here, and Jason has welcomed them into his house. They are all defying Caesar’s decrees, saying that there is another king, one called Jesus.” When they heard this, the crowd and the city officials were thrown into turmoil. Then they made Jason and the others post bond and let them go. As soon as it was night, the believers sent Paul and Silas away to Berea.
Sermon: Suffering for Christ by Rev. Doreen Oughton
This morning we hear first the promise or prediction of religious persecution, and then an example of it in Paul’s preaching and teaching in Thessalonica. And though the story ends with Paul and Silas fleeing to Berea, we have, as our responsive reading, Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, praising them as models disciples, messengers of the good news even in the midst of hardship. These may be inspiring stories, and surely they hold comfort and hope for those Christian communities around the world that face political persecution for their faith. But the promise of the living Word of God is that there is a message for all people, in all circumstances, and so what, we must wonder, does any of this have to do with us?
In Mark’s gospel, Jesus tells his followers that they must be on guard, for they will be handed over for flogging. It is interesting to me that he tells them to be on guard, but not so they can escape this beating, and not so they can prepare ahead of time what they will say. Now if Ron had been doing the reading, he would have told you of the events leading up to this teaching. Jesus had been pointing out the hypocrisy of the Jewish leaders seeking places of honor, looking for respect while they “devour widows’ houses.” He pointed out the sums of money so ostentatiously thrown in the Temple treasury by the rich, in comparison with the humble offering of 2 mites – everything she had – by the widow. And when one of his followers points out the magnificence of the Temple buildings, Jesus says every building will be torn down. Then they ask when this will be, the Temple left to rubble, earthquakes, famine, wars.
I think Jesus wants them to know that even though they are going around preaching good news, healing people, and ushering the new kindom, this discipleship thing is not a safe, cushy gig. And I think the same message is important for us to hear. We will not likely be handed over to the authorities for flogging, but if we truly follow Christ and live as he invited us to live, we will suffer. We claim a faith of the cross, and suffering is part and parcel of our faith. There is a risk of glorifying the suffering, of seeing it as something we must experience to prove ourselves to God, or to earn our way to the kindom. But that’s not what I am talking about.
I’ve been thinking a lot this week about how it is we suffer as Christians today. Just what is the cost of discipleship for us? To my way of thinking, the cost relates to the accusations against Paul and Silas – that they are causing trouble all over the world, defying Caesar, throwing the city into turmoil. And its related to the anger of the religious leaders who want to keep things the same. The cost of discipleship is the reactions of the world to our standing and walking in the way of Jesus, of rejecting what the world tries to tell us is true and important.
In a way, living as Jesus calls us to live shouldn’t hurt at all. It should feel wonderful, basking in truth and beauty and light and love. We were created to live in such joy, and there is a part of us all that knows this, that is drawn to this way. But our hearts and minds and the world around us has been so corrupted, so distorted, that we have grown and adapted in ways that tend to lead us away from this truth and beauty and joy. It’s like having a bone fracture that is not mended and just gets worse and begins to affect the way we move. When we do finally realize the problem and seek the correction, it’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt, we are going to suffer, as we seek to live more and more in alignment with Christ.
I think that the suffering for us may come in remaining open to brokenness and pain. By that I mean that we see it, that we care, that we keep our hearts open and empathizing. We don’t close down to it. We don’t deny it, or find someone to blame, or cover up feelings of sorrow and hurt and fear with anger. While we may be moved to do something to alleviate the suffering, we are not jumping to fix things just so we don’t have to experience the discomfort of empathy. To have the cross, the crucified Christ, as central to our faith means we are asked to see how far off this world is from the kindom, and still love it.
And I think that if your heart and soul never hurt over the condition of this world, then your heart is probably closed. And when I say hurt, I mean hurt, not shaking your head saying tsk, tsk. Not finding the “other” to blame for the state of things, not judging from a position of feeling that only you and those like you know the way things should be. There is a vulnerability in staying open. It can seem overwhelming. I’ve been keeping a prayer journal and mostly I just keep adding to it. Some days I wonder if I will have enough paper or time to pray for all that needs prayer. Some days my heart feels like it could break just reading the newspaper. The things people do to each other! The things people say about others in social media! And that’s the “smaller” stuff. Think natural disasters, the horrific war crimes, racism, child abuse, animal abuse. I could cry just listing all this. It hurts. And I think of Jesus’ arms on the cross, so wide open, taking in everything, absorbing all that pain; all the brokenness that would lead to the killing of God’s holy Son.
But this is also the good news. Jesus has opened his arms, his heart, his soul, his whole self and gone before us. And he promises to be with us. We can keep our hearts and eyes and ears and arms and wallets open because Jesus knows the joy that lies beyond the suffering. We can be on guard, aware that the journey of faith and true discipleship will hurt. Such a challenge to the status quo – to the ways of the world – will inevitably cause internal and external conflict. On account of Jesus we will stand in this world and witness to the good news that the kindom is near. Given that the ushering in of God’s kindom means that many of the ways of this world must end, such news may often not be seen as good. But Jesus promised his disciples – promised us – that the Holy Spirit will give us what we need. We can enter into a painful situation and not rush in with our own anxious words to make the pain go away, but can wait for the Spirit to speak through us, or hold a comforting silence. We can just be present to the suffering, our own and other, and let that deep, divine spark open up and respond.
It isn’t easy. At least I haven’t found it to be. The urge to pull back, to close down, to blame and rationalize and deny is pretty powerful. So I seek out help with it, not only from Jesus but from others who are willing to be vulnerable, who try to stay open and who trust that there is power in witnessing to pain and does not get caught up and taken over by that pain. My prayer is that church can be a place like that, a place that stretches us in our awareness while reminding us of the presence and power of Christ. My hope is that we help each other find our edges, the places where we are inclined to close our hearts, and encourage one another to keep them open. And keeping our hearts open does not mean enabling or approving, it just means stepping back from hatred. Who is it for you? There should be paper and writing implements in the pews. I invite you to write down, anonymously, a person, a group of people, a situation – something you have trouble keeping your heart open to. If you drop the paper in the plate in the back, I will pray for all of these and for the anonymous writers, at least 3 times in the coming week. Or take your paper with you, and pray yourself at least 3 times this week. Start by asking Jesus to sit with you, to work within you, to give you strength and willingness. I wonder what power there might be in this, how it might just shake things up here and reverberate through the world. Will you try it with me?
