february 7, 2010

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
February 7, 2010
Psalm 138
Luke 5:1-11

My mom prays for parking spaces. She has, for years—as long as I can remember. She claims to have learned this from the Baptists who nurtured her as she “came to faith,” as she calls it, in De Ridder, Louisiana. They taught her there is nothing, nothing, too small or insignificant or outrageous to take to God in prayer. Pray for anything, unbounded, and let God sort out God’s response. I share the belief that there is nothing, nothing, that should be off-limits in our prayer lives. I believe we are never wasting God’s time, when we come to God in prayer. I believe that God is big enough and good enough and powerful enough to pay attention to it all, to care about it all, to be active and responsive in all of our lives, whatever our needs and desires. I too believe there is nothing too small or insignificant or outrageous to take to God in prayer.

But. I haven’t been able to pray for parking spaces, and I haven’t been able to hide my dubiousness, my skepticism, about this practice of my mom’s. At least, not until recently.

Part of it is theological. I believe in the unimaginable, unfathomable, incomprehensible enormity of God’s power. I believe God’s grace makes the impossible possible. I have experienced this grace in my life, and witnessed it at work in the lives of countless others. But. I don’t believe God’s power is the kind of power where God points God’s finger and BAM—a parking space is suddenly waiting. It’s not that I think God can’t do it, just that I don’t believe that’s how God works. I suppose it feels too close to the kind of theology behind the alarming claim made by Pat Robertson this past month that God caused the earthquake in Haiti because, somehow, the Haitian people deserved it. That claim, that theology, that understanding of God horrifies me. That is not the God of love who offers comfort to the afflicted, who embraces the brokenhearted, who weeps at human suffering and injustice. So, part of my resistance is theological.

And, to be honest, part of my resistance to praying for parking spaces is, well, stubbornness. Now, I know parking is Osage is not a problem. Parking places are not in short supply. But in other places I have called home, finding a parking spot truly feels miraculous. In downtown Iowa City, for example, it is customary to walk 2, 3, 4, even 5 blocks from where you park to where you’re going. In Berkeley, it’s more like 5, 6, 7, even 8 blocks. In San Francisco, expect to drive around, circling block after block for 20, 30, even 40 minutes. Unless, it seems, you are my mom. Or riding in a car with my mom. With her, for her, spaces seem to materialize out of thin air. Spots sit waiting on streets and in areas I have never before seen empty spots. It is miraculous. And, for me, just a little maddening. My mom prays for parking spaces, and she gets them. I do not, and I have learned to walk partly because it seems there is never an empty space for me. Unless, of course, my mom is with me.
This morning’s gospel story has something to do with praying for parking spaces. The disciples have just given up after trying to catch fish all day. All day, they came up with nothing more than empty nets. They’ve just given up, just started to clean their nets and call it a day. But then Jesus comes, and tells them to give it another go. To do what they’ve already done. As if the disciples had been circling the block for half an hour without finding a single empty space, and Jesus tells them to go around one more time. And, it works. Within minutes the nets are bursting with fish. The boats are full. A single spot is waiting right outside the place you’re going.

And, to the disciples, to me, perhaps to you, it is almost too much. Too amazing. Too miraculous. Too unbelievably perfect.

This story sets the stage for discipleship in the Gospel according to Luke. The disciples fulfill an important role—they demonstrate: a) that Jesus comes to, cares about, and connects with the most ordinary of people, doing the most ordinary of daily tasks; b) that we should never underestimate what God can do…what God is already doing…what God calls us to do; and, c) that our response must go further than belief or amazement. We are called to respond, to give thanks “with everything in us” as the psalmist says, to receive, and to follow.

The good news of this gospel text teaches us—Sometimes faith doesn’t make sense. Sometimes we are called to believe even when we can’t imagine or understand. Sometimes the only thing to do is take the next step, trusting God is guiding us, and goes with us. Sometimes is it hard to believe in our own power—the power of our Creator—in us to our core. Sometimes it is hard to believe we are worth it. But always, God is there saying, “There is nothing to fear. Believe. Come, and follow me.”

If you are on Facebook, you might have seen my status through the week. The words are Ella Baker’s. Ella grew up hearing her grandmother share stories about the horrors of living under the sinful system of slavery. Ella knew how impossible, how utterly unfathomable it was to believe in freedom and full humanity for all people, for civil and human rights regardless of race. It had never been so, and it sure wasn’t so when she became active in civil rights work in the 1930s. And yet, she knew not to underestimate God’s power—God’s desire and will for a church and society that recognizes the sacred worth of all human beings, all God’s children. Her words, my status, read: “I am here and so are you. And we matter. We can change things.”

The good news of this faithful witness teaches us—Sometimes faith doesn’t make sense. Sometimes we are called to believe even when we can’t imagine or understand. Sometimes the only thing to do is take the next step, trusting God is guiding us, and goes with us. Sometimes is it hard to believe in our own power—the power of our Creator—in us to our core. Sometimes it is hard to believe we are worth it. But always, God is there saying, “There is nothing to fear. Believe. Come, and follow me.”

My friends know about my mom and her prayer practice for parking spaces. While I was back in San Francisco, after circling blocks for half an hour, we started praying. We found parking. As the days went by, we prayed earlier and earlier in our search, believing a little more easily each time. Every time a space came open, we’d all cry out, “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, God!”
This is not about blindly believing anything and everyone. Questioning our faith is good. Wrestling with God deepens the relationship, and our understanding. Critical thinking is important, and part of mature faith. And…

Sometimes we are called to believe even when we can’t imagine or understand. Sometimes the only thing to do is take the next step, trusting God is guiding us, and goes with us. Sometimes is it hard to believe in our own power—the power of our Creator—in us to our core. Sometimes it is hard to believe we are worth it. But always, God is there saying, “There is nothing to fear. Believe. Come, and follow me.”

May it be so. Amen, and amen.