Proper 6B
Read the Sermon for June 17, 2012
Read the Sermon for June 17, 2012
Tag: Faith
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A Faith for Fathers
The greatest lesson I ever learned about faith, I learned from my Father. I had accidentally sailed a balsa wood glider up onto the roof of our home in Houston. When my Dad came home, instead of getting a ladder and climbing up to retrieve it, he picked me up and boosted me onto the roof so I could get it myself. We lived in a 1950's era "ranch style" house, so the roof wasn't actually that far off the ground, at least to my dad, who was 6' 4" tall. I had never been on the roof before. It was frightening – mostly the getting up.
When I began to express my fear, Dad said, "Don't worry. I won't let you fall." His hands and arms felt strong, his voice was firm and confident. He had been on the roof himself. He believed I would be okay. So, I forgot my fear. My trust in him was stronger than my fears and Dad didn't let me fall.
I found my faith. Through the experience of trusting, I discovered that my Dad was trustworthy.
I have been able to live my life with an abiding faith, often tested by the things that test everybody's faith. It goes back to that glider on the roof, my Dad's strong and loving arms, his reassuring voice, and his dependable promise, "I won't let you fall."
That has made it easier for me to trust my heavenly Father, who promised, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." Earthly parents, though fallible, have a role to play in the formation of faith in their children's lives. In fact, parents are the primary faith-givers. Christian parents' chief evangelical, disciple-making opportunity is with their children.
Even helping a child retrieve a toy stuck on the roof can be an occasion for faith-forming. The world needs dads to give their children a fear-conquering faith. Of course, Moms do it too. But this is Father's Day!
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Epiphany Through Doubt
The Reverend Ken Kesselus, a colleague in Texas, tells the following story:
Once when a certain preacher launched into a children’s sermon, she was confronted by a visiting child, an eight-year-old friend of a regular member. The boy was new to this church, but was a regular attendee at another congregation that did not have children’s sermons. Nevertheless, the visitor tried his best to follow the line of the preacher’s effort to connect with the children. Attempting to hook the children with something familiar before making her point, the priest asked the children to identify what she would describe. “What is fuzzy and has a long tail?” No response. “What has big teeth and climbs in trees?” Still no response. After she asked, “What jumps around a lot and gathers nuts and hides them?” the visiting boy could stand the silence no longer. He blurted out, “Look, lady, I know the answer is supposed to be ‘Jesus,’ but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me.”
Human beings usually want to give the “right” answer, the answer others expect. The eight-year-old boy had more courage than most of us might have had. He acknowledged what he thought others might want him to say, but he found a way to express his doubt.
Each year on the Second Sunday of Easter, we read the gospel account of St. Thomas the Apostle in which he expresses his own doubt about reports of the Resurrection of Jesus (John 20:19-31). He had not been in the company of the other Apostles when Jesus appeared to them that first Easter. When the others told him they had seen the Risen Savior, he couldn’t believe it. He may have wanted to “go along in order to get along” with the others, but he was compelled to express his doubt. He might have said, “I know the answer is supposed to be that I believe you saw Jesus, but it sure sounds like a ghost to me.”
A week later, Thomas had the opportunity to see for himself and confirm in his own experience that the Risen Christ was not a ghost. But for a period of time, he was skeptical. His questioning and doubting must have been as hard for him as it was for the little boy trying to understand the illustration about the squirrel. Because we too struggle with what may seem clear to others and with accepted norms, we can identify with Thomas and the little boy.
I am grateful to be a part of a Church where it is safe for people to express their doubts and ask their questions and challenge accepted norms. It is a Church where we don’t have to mindlessly accept what seems to be the accepted answer or point of view. It is a Church where it is okay to be doubtful, confused, and skeptical. It is a Church where we can remain in the company of others as we struggle with matters of doubt and faith. It is a Church where from childhood we are encouraged to ask questions and to wonder as we journey toward faith.The example of Thomas’ honesty and forthrightness fosters hope in us and empowers us in our seasons of doubt. We need that kind of faith community as we wonder where God fits in with harsh and frightening realities of life and death. We need a faith community where we can be encountered by the Risen Christ who can lead us to the truth, just as he led Thomas. In such a community, we can work through our uncertainties and emerge on the other side with an even stronger faith, just as Thomas did.
The story of Thomas affirms that doubt can give way to faith, just as death is overcome by life. It assures us that the God we worship can handle our doubts and fears. It tells us that honesty is necessary in our relationship with God and God’s own people in times of uncertainty as well as in times of confidence.
The Apostles were blessed because they saw the Risen Christ and believed. Their subsequent ministry was to nurture faith among others who had not seen. Jesus said to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” The ongoing work of this Church is to continue the ministry of the Apostles and foster the even greater blessing that comes from walking by faith and not by sight. And for every generation of Christians since the first one, if we are honest about it, we have to admit that faith in Jesus Christ requires at least some struggle with doubt.
That’s really what Easter is all about. We are Easter People, traveling together on a marvelous journey toward those faith-filled moments when we discover the Risen One at work in our lives and in our world – moments so profound that we can only exclaim with Thomas, “My Lord and my God.”
P.S. Here's an old hymn based on this gospel passage and sung to a new tune by Marty Haugen.
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When you see the Light, head toward it!
It was one of the darker nights of the year and I was driving along a road in deep East Texas. The road was one with which I was unfamiliar and full of curves and bends and hills. At about the time I became aware that I had missed a turn somewhere and was headed in the wrong direction, I discovered that I was very low on gasoline. I had gone to far to turn back, but I was frightened to drive on because my engine might stop on that dark and lonely road any moment. I decided to drive on and search for some sign of civilization where there might be fuel and someone to point me in the right direction.
The more I drove, the more concerned I became. Just when I thought my engine was about out of fumes, I saw the glowing red light of an airplane beacon atop some structure in the distance. I felt certain it must be in or near a town with a filling station. If I could get there, I could fill my car with fuel, seek directions, and head on with confidence toward my destination. As I followed the beacon, I came to a road I recognized and managed to coast the last few hundred feet to a gas pump. I filled the tank and I got directions so that I could complete my journey in safety and in peace.
If you've ever experienced something like this, you surely understand how out of control my anxiety was that night. And, you also understand what a welcome sight that beacon was, with its promise of fuel and guidance.
Whenever something like this happens in the course of living – when we are alone, lost, and almost out of resources – we feel frightened, apprehensive, and alone. But then, on the distant horizon there is the bright beacon of God's love, the light of God's grace, the glow of God's promise. We see it through the darkness and our faith draws us forward to a place of peace and security.
John 3:16-17 speaks to us of that beacon of Love Divine. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." The Word Made Flesh is for us and with us, wherever we may be!
When the night is dark, when the road is scary and unfamiliar, and when you are running on fumes, look for the Light. Turn to him. Trust his good news to be truly good for you. Let him help you find your way forward as you continue the journey in peace, knowing that you are completely secure in God's immeasurable love!
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The human capacity for purposeful change is a divine gift
Earlier this week, I was involved in a conversation in which the topic of resistance to change came up. We acknowledged that everyone has some degree of difficulty with change, regardless of how beneficial or unavoidable it may be. At the same time, we agreed that human beings are endowed by our Creator with a remarkable capacity for change. In fact, the pages of sacred scripture are filled with examples of how the exercise of that capacity has impacted the story of God’s people. Also, in the New Testament, change is a central to the message of Jesus Christ. “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of God, and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel’” (Mark 1:14, 15). The Greek imperative metanoiete, which we translate “repent”, is a call to change one’s life.
Some biblical stories are about those who were able to make the changes necessary to be faithful to God, such as Abraham, Moses, David, and the Holy Apostles. Other stories tell us about those who were unable to make such changes, such as the people who were destroyed by the Great Flood, the generation of Hebrews who had been slaves in Egypt, several generations of Israelites whose apostasy resulted in defeat and captivity, the rich young man who came to Jesus, and, of course, Judas Iscariot.
There’s good change and there’s bad change and, quite often, there’s just change. Not all change is equal. But life, as God gives it, is one change after another. The struggle with change is bound up with the struggle with faith in God. Those who thrive are those who adopt a hopeful attitude toward our God-given potential, draw upon the uniquely human capacity for adaptation, and bring about purposeful refreshment, recreation, and renewal among the communities where they live and worship.
Simply put, our faith provides us with insight into how to draw upon that capacity for creative living and the advancement of God's redemptive purposes.
One of my favorite prayers from the Book of Common Prayer came to mind as I was thinking about the relationship between change and faith. When I turned to it, I realized that it is a prayer that is primarily used in liturgies for times of significant transition in the Church’s life and liturgical cycle – such as Ordinations, the Celebration of a New Ministry, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil of Easter. It is a wonderful prayer for any time in the life of the Church, but especially when we are asked to make some sort of change as we progress in the journey of faith. I commend it to you today:
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look
favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred
mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry
out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world
see and know that things which were cast down are being
raised up, and things which had grown old are being made
new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection
by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus
Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity
of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. -
What do Christians mean when we use the word faith?
What do Christians mean when we use the word faith? Often, we are speaking of a set of beliefs or doctrines. But there is a more important meaning without which all our doctrines and words are empty.
That more important meaning has to do with hearing and responding to God when God reaches out to us, offering us a promise, wooing us, calling us into a living redemptive relationship. Scriptures for the Second Sunday in Lent this year reveal a pattern having to do with God's invitation into a covenant relationship and our response to it. It is a pattern duplicated in dozens of similar stories throughout the Bible. And, it is a pattern we can recognize in our own lives today. It goes like this:
- God calls, promising to use our lives for God's high purposes.
- The recipient of the call expresses fear, doubt, or anxiety.
- Then comes divine reassurance.
- Finally, there is a faithful response to the promise of God.
We see it in the life of Abraham and Sarah. We see it in the life of Moses. We see it in the life of Jeremiah. We see it in the life of Mary and Joseph. We see it in the Apostle Paul.
And, of course, we see it in the life of Jesus. In his baptism and on the mount of Transfiguration there is the call. In the wilderness there is the question and the divine reassurance that comes to him. Then, there is the faithful response.
When we meet Jesus in this Sunday's Gospel reading (Luke 13:31-35), he is ministering to people up in the Galilean territory. Some friendly Pharisees have come to warn him that the tetrarch of that region, Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great, is out to get him. They urge him to leave the area. He gives them a response that is to Herod but also to God. "I will finish what I need to do here but then I am going on my way to Jerusalem where my work will be fulfilled." He does not let either the warning of his friends or the threat of his foe deter him from what God has called him to do and the promise which lies before him.
In his book, Living Faith While Holding Doubts, Martin B. Copenhaver writes, "There are times when we must make a 100% commitment to something about which we are only 51% certain" (Pilgrim Press: Cleveland, OH, 1989).
But let's be clear about something. Faith, in this sense, is not a momentary phenomenon, an act at one point in time. Faith is a long-term trust, a committed, continuous response to the promises of God. Out of real doubts and deep questions, Abram ventures forth with God. The venturing forth does not erase those doubts and questions. Rather, he gathers up his doubts and stumbles on behind God into a future on the basis of nothing but the promise. This is what we Christians mean when we say, "faith."
John Dillenberger says that in Christianity, the term faith refers to the "dynamic and vital stance of the believer's dependence on God…faith is a living confidence and trust in God in the experience of knowing God's gracious presence as manifest in Christ…a reality that one would not have unearthed by oneself but that has come to be present as a sort of miracle, a happening that encompasses but does not seem to be dependent either on one's seeking or on fleeing the divine (A New Handbook of Christian Theology, Nashville: Abingdon, 1992, p.182).
God promised Abraham that he would be a blessing to all the people of the earth and that the promise would be extended to his descendants forever. The old Rabbis used to teach that when God promised Abraham that his descendants would be like the dust, he was referring not only to numbers but to the fact that they would outlast those who trampled upon them. St. Paul tells us that all who trust God the way Abraham did are his descendants, not just those who have his genes. Jesus shows us that the way of the cross is the way of faith. God's promise of a relationship, a peace surpassing understanding, a permanent place at the banquet table of our heavenly Father, is absolutely dependable.
When God calls to you, how do you answer? With doubts, anxieties, fears? You are not alone! But can you listen beyond them to God's reassuring voice, calling you to trust God to lead you through them, perhaps even to use those obstacles to faith as bridges into the future where he is trying to get you to go with him? Can you say, I'm 51% sure, Lord, but I'll trust you with the other 49%? If you can, you are not far from the kingdom of God.