I got to preach at St. Thomas of Canterbury Episcopal Church in Albuquerque on Sunday. What great readings! This is the early version of my sermon – better in some ways and not as good in others than the final version. I would love to come preach for your congregation sometime – though posting sermons may not be the best way to drum up business!
Have you read the newspaper lately? Or listened to the news?
If so, you’re probably pretty depressed!
It’s no secret that there is a lot of suffering, a lot of heartbreak, and lot of stupidity in the world!
I’m more inclined toward anger than depression, myself, but that’s merely a different expression of the same thing. This life can sometimes be awfully discouraging.
Just this past week there was a bombing in Mumbai. A child was abducted, and brutally killed. Violence in the Sudan continues as the new nation of South Sudan is born in response to years of ethnic fighting.
The fire around Los Alamos continues to burn, highlighting the conflict between people and nature.
Each of us, in our own lives and own families carry burdens of grief, sorrow, anger, broken relationships, and the unavoidable challenges of growing up and growing old.
There is no shortage of examples of what Paul calls the sufferings of this present time. Perhaps most insurmountable are the interior struggles that Paul knew so well. At the end of chapter 7 of Romans, Paul expresses his frustration at his inability to do the good he wants to do and to avoid the evil he does not want to do. Most of us can relate. Have you ever promised you wouldn’t do something ever again – smoke a cigarette, drink too much, eat the WHOLE thing – only to find yourself back at it before you know what has happened? We want to be kind, but hear ourselves shouting in anger. We want to be patient, but feel impatience rising up inside of us like a fog. We want to be open minded and generous, but our biases and misperceptions can form walls around us that we aren’t even aware of. These tares can choke out the wheat we seek to grow in our lives. Our brokenness can keep us from being who we long to be and who God invites us to become.
Paul seems to have understood this in the very core of his being. Through his own personal struggles and no doubt an acute awareness of the sufferings of his present time, he saw himself and his world with a startling clarity. Because of that; because he was so intimately acquainted with the darkness in the world, he also saw the light of Christ with startlingly clarity. He saw the freedom that God’s grace gives us, and he saw the glory that was to be when we are finally who God made us to be.
It is this glory that we are called to bear witness to. Taken together, today’s Gospel reading and the epistle reading would suggest that we are not to be weed pullers, but rather weed identifiers! It’s God’s job to do that weeding in God’s own time, but perhaps we are invited to find the wheat among the weeds, and to point it out, to nurture and encourage it, to help it grow so that the weeds do not overtake it while we await God’s pruning.
It is not just we human beings who long for God’s coming, but creation itself, Paul says, longs for redemption. I hate weeding, so I’ve had plenty of opportunities to watch what happens to plants among weeds. There is a kind of tension and groaning and the plants reach for the sunlight, sometime twisting around stronger plants, climbing upward or out, fighting for light and air. And beneath the soil, the roots stretching and push toward water, drilling downward, or reaching out for nourishment. That is the picture Paul gives us of our lives, of the life of all of creation. We are all reaching, stretching, pushing toward the glory of God.
I expect Paul to say creation is awaiting the revelation of God.
But we are in an interim step as we await the coming glory. Paul says earlier in chapter 8 that the children of God are those who are led by the spirit of God. In the midst of the groaning and the waiting and the pushing, it is we who are to proclaim the hope and promise of God. In the midst of war and violence, despair and plain old boredom, we are called to speak of joy and glory. It is not an easy thing, because we too despair. Being a Christian doesn’t protect us from the suffering of this life, as Paul so eloquently shows us. In fact, what Paul tells us is that trying to escape it, trying to look away from the suffering around us, focusing on spiritual things while ignoring the things of the world will only separate us from God. Because the children of God are those who suffer with Christ. Only then can we be glorified with Christ. Only then can we set down the shadows of this life and step into the glorious light that is to come.
Too often in the church we have spoken of “suffering with Christ” as if we were to plunge a sword into our own side or climb up onto a cross. This invitation of Paul’s has been misused to keep the poor at the margins of society, wives in abusive marriages, and all kinds of people in the anguish of mental and physical illness. I don’t think this is what Paul intended at all. We don’t see him seeking to physically harm himself,
Rather, Paul simply jumped into the world around him with both feet. He did not eschew the pain and heartache of his life or of the world. He knew persecution first hand, but he also escaped from prison. He did not run away when threatened with death for preaching the Gospel. He did not ignore the physical hunger and poverty of his brothers and sisters in Jerusalem. Neither did he wallow in the brokenness of the world.
Suffering with Christ, then, must mean something other than creating pain for ourselves and others. I think it is about embracing this poor broken world. It is tempting to turn away from news of violence and degradation. It can seem easy to turn away from neighbors struggling with a drug addicted child, or a friend whose pain we cannot bear to witness. If we are to be children of God, though, our call is to turn toward the pain. The embrace the heartache around us. To live deeply in this world that God has created. So that in the midst of pain we can see joy. So that we can point to the suffering that is being redeemed. So that we can be revealed as the children of God, revealing the glory of God.
Do you want to turn off the TV when the politicians start arguing about the budget?
What if instead you wrote to your legislators and urged them to listen to one another, and to the people they are supposed to serve? Perhaps your voice could be heard above the din and that official could find some support to do a noble and courageous thing instead of merely what’s expedient?
Can you not bear to read one more story about children being abused, or neglected instead of cherished? Rather than turn away, perhaps you can turn toward God. Pray for families and children in need. Pray for your children and their children. Pray for the children who run past your house or that nearly knock you over in the grocery store.
Do you despair of war fought in your name, or tremble at the thought of another terror attack? Rather than turning inward in fear, reach outward to get to know new people. Learn about other cultures. Attend an interfaith dinner or an ecumenical workshop. Seek peace in your home, and in your neighborhood, and in your life.
I know many of you already do just these things. Some of you are probably getting tired of doing them with few tangible results. Leave the results up to God. Our challenge is to be led by the Spirit. To be revealed as the children of God. To promise hope and light to a creation groaning under the weight of suffering. You cannot bear every burden, and none of us should try. But we all confronted with ample opportunities to be light in a dark world. And the wonder of that, is it brings us light, too. Being light makes us light. And children of God.