february 21, 2010

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
February 21, 2010
Romans 10: 8b-14
Luke 4:1-13

Teach us your ways, O God, that we may walk in your wisdom; give us uncluttered hearts to receive and share your Word of Love. Amen.

Four mantras or maxims found their way to me this past week. I have heard or read them all before, but they spoke to me in new ways, as we begin to journey through this Lenten season.

“God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.”

“Opportunity knocks once; temptation bangs on the door forever.”

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

“When you get to your wit’s end, you’ll find God lives there.”

Again: “God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.”

“Opportunity knocks once; temptation bangs on the door forever.”

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

“When you get to your wit’s end, you’ll find God lives there.”

Four sayings, about salvation…and temptation…and God’s amazing grace…making it through the patches of wilderness and desolation in our lives…finding God exactly when we come to rest after tumbling to rock bottom.

The hymn “Amazing Grace” was written by John Newton in 1779. As a young man, John was a bit troubled. He was one of those smart kids who struggled, lacking clear direction or conviction. So, he joined the Navy. And, John began his career in trading slaves. For years, he traveled and perpetuated the horrors of the Middle passage, carrying human cargo. He made his profit buying and selling human flesh.

One night, there was a terrible storm at sea. John was working on the deck. Finally, exhausted from the violent storm, he was relieved by another crew member. Moments after John left the deck, the worker who took his place was swept over board. John faced his utter helplessness. His mortality. His need for God’s grace. He began to change his life. Sudden spiritual transformation, wrought by a storm, and a brush with death, led to small steps of seeking salvation. Moment by moment and action by action, he sought…being saved from the dehumanizing and unjust and evil work he was participating in…being saved for God’s work of building human connection, and just relationship, and reconciling love. He encouraged sailors to pray. He ensured that his crew treated their human cargo with gentleness and concern. Lest this sound too holy, remember. He was still trading slaves. Still participating in and perpetuating an evil system. People continued to die because of the profit he sought.

It took John 40 years after confessing his deep need for God’s grace before he found the moral courage to resist the slave trade, and turn away from the profits, power, and wealth if offered. Forty years of continuing the slave trade that killed ten million people, at minimum. Likely between 50 and 100 million people. Only God’s grace could wring redemption from this story. Only God’s grace could coax hope in these dangers, toils, and snares. Could save a wretch like John. Finally, finally, John was so moved by the grace of God, he gave up the slave trade. He was converted from evil and sin, for justice and reconciliation. From his lostness, he was found.

John Newton spent 40 years wandering the desert of slavery and sin. It was a Lenten journey…of self reflection…facing temptation…recognizing weakness…naming sins…seeking forgiveness…calling on God…relying on God…working with God…being transformed by God…turning towards God, and God’s desires for all God’s children…

In this morning’s gospel story—one of the most famous and familiar stories in the gospel narratives—we encounter Jesus on what we might call his Lenten journey. Lent did not yet exist as a liturgical season, but the journey was similar, just the same.
Jesus was led into the wilderness, by the Spirit. He was not forced or pulled…not yet tempted by Satan, but led by the Spirit…the Spirit that leads us where we don’t want to go, into trials and temptings we’d rather not face. But…

“God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.”

“Opportunity knocks once; temptation bangs on the door forever.”

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

“When you get to your wit’s end, you’ll find God lives there.”

Which isn’t at all the way I want it to be. I want, for myself, for those I love, for all of you…I want a calm passage, topped off by a safe landing. I’d rather have opportunity banging away at my door all day, and temptation daring a soft knock every now and then. How much easier, if the sun would shine all the time, so there would be no rain to learn to dance in, and no storm to wait to pass. And why, oh why, does it seem I have to get to my wit’s end so often before I stop to remember I can’t do it on my own, that I need God to help me, and that I trust God to already have God’s hand in whatever I’m fretting and frenzied about? Sometimes, too often, if I’m honest, I want the work of faith to be easier…more comfortable…less consuming. I want to believe I am self-sufficient. I’m more comfortable fitting in, rather than standing out. I find it easier, most of the time, to be nice rather than holy, if holiness requires hard truth-telling. I want Easter, without journeying through Lent.

Barbara Brown Taylor’s description of Lent is, to me, holy, hard, truth-telling.

Human communities, our community, myself, maybe you?…becoming devoted to comforts, ho hum about our faith. Seeking out things that make us feel cared for, by ourselves, not by God. No longer distinguishing ourselves by our bold love for one another and for all God’s children, but blending into the social systems of berating the poor, demeaning the “other,” condemning those who scare us—be they gay, or Muslim, or undocumented immigrants. With each other, deciding to be nice, not holy. Saying, “Oh, no one ever has enough time for it all” rather than “We missed you at worship…It sure would be good to see you next week.” Or, “Yeah, we all need zone-out time” rather than “What if we spent half the time in prayer as we do watching television or playing on Facebook every day?”

And so, warned by Barbara Brown Taylor, warned by this Gospel Story, warned by the teachings and life and death of Jesus, we enter this time of Lent. A time of listening for God, calling us back to our senses. 40 days to cleanse the system and open our eyes to what remains when all comfort is gone. 40 days to remember what it is like to live by the grace of God alone and not by what we can supply for ourselves.

Lent reminds us: Every day we decide who we will follow. If we follow Jesus, we will face temptation.

One more story, to close. After the dismantling of the Apartheid system of slavery of South Africa, Archbishop Desmond Tutu led the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in the work of uncovering the stories of atrocity under Apartheid, calling people to confession, uncovering hideous, horrible truths about our capacity, human capacity, to participate in evil. The Commission was created so that healing could happen. Forgiveness could free. Reconciliation could begin.

At one of the hearings, a black South African woman stood, with tears running down her face, listening to the white police officers confess the atrocities they had committed. She listened as one officer admitted he had shot her 18 year old son, point blank. She heard him confess that after the shooting, he and other officers partied, while they burned her son’s body—turning it over and over in the fire until the body was reduced to ashes. Then she heard how the same officers, eight years later, returned and took her husband. She had watched, helpless, as they poured gasoline on this one she loved. As the flames consumed him, her husband’s last words to his wife were simply, “Forgive them.”

As they stood before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, as this officer awaited judgment, the commission turned to the woman with tears still in her eyes and asked, “What do you want that will bring justice to this situation?” Still weeping, she said, “I want three things.”

1—I want him to take me to the place where they buried my husband’s body, so I can collect the dust, and give him a proper burial.

2—He took all my family from me. But I still have love to give. Twice a month I would like this officer to come to my ghetto, and share a meal with me, so I can be a mother to him.

3—And I would like him to know he is forgiven by God, and that I forgive him. And now, I would like to hug him, so that he can feel my forgiveness.

As the officer came into the woman’s open arms, someone in the back of the room began to sing… “Amazing Grace”
sing Amazing Grace Amen, and amen.