| Never Be Afraid To Trust An Unknown Future To A Known God |
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"Never Be Afraid To Trust An Unknown Future To A Known God." The Rev. Carole Wageman Trinity Episcopal Church, Shelburne, VT Pentecost 11A 8-28-11 Exodus 3:1-15, Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c; Romans 12:9-21; Matthew 16:21-28
As I mentioned last week, Scripture is narrative story of human beings who existed many years before us and it is the way in which we can listen in on God’s Story as it is revealed across time. Think of Scripture as a wide river of human history that flows with the emotion, drama and conundrums that present themselves in the course of Human and Divine interaction. How was God at work in those stories? We know the outcome of their narratives because we are this side of the story, but the actual people involved didn’t always know how things would turn out. Their journeys reveal bits and pieces of God’s larger storyline but sometimes reading things out of context week by week we do not get the full impact of a person’s individual journey. So, today we are going to pick up the threads of a couple of last week’s stories. Last week, the Hebrew infant, Moses, was plucked from a tiny basket-boat floating in the reeds of the Nile River by the daughter of the Pharaoh and so began a journey with God before the baby even knew who God was. This week’s reading from Exodus is a continuation of that story. Moses is all grown up – living in Midian --- married --- with children -- taking care of his father-in-law’s flocks. He came to be in Midian as a fugitive being hunted by Pharaoh himself because Moses had killed an Egyptian who was abusing a Hebrew worker. He had left his old life behind and started a new life that was much different from the wealthy palace of the mighty Pharaoh. . His encounter with the Living God comes in a form that is described as a bush that burns but is not consumed. Was there a real bush that really burned with fire as we imagine it might literally look? We don’t know and that is not really important. The important point is that God calls Moses with an intensity as bright and beckoning and persistent as an enduring flame and presses Moses to reckon with who he (Moses) is and what God needs to him to do. In some ways, this story is slightly reminiscent of Jesus’ time in the wilderness hundreds of years later --- a spiritual encounter where he comes face to face with God’s call and the human dilemma of choice. Unlike Jesus, Moses reacts with some of the same kinds of excuses we might be tempted to give when our stories encounter with the surprise of God. I. Who Me? “Yes, you, and I will be with you and give you what you need.” II. Who will I tell them has sent me? “I AM WHO I AM. Tell them I AM sent you.” III. People aren’t going to believe me. “Pay attention – I will give you signs that will convince them.” IV. I don’t have the skills – I am not eloquent or well spoken. “Who is it that gives speech to mortals in the first place? I will be in your mouth and teach you what to speak.” V. Can’t you find someone else? “You’re going. Take your brother Aaron with you and he can be your mouthpiece and I will help him as well.” VI. How will I do this? “Simple. I will be with you.” Somehow, that assurance doesn’t always remove the enormous anxiety of actually walking blindly into an unknown future, does it? As we read about God’s Story in scripture, we have the advantage of knowing how things turned out for these characters, but they didn’t know how it would all turn out…and in that, we share parts of our own journey of figuring out how to trust what God means by “Simple. I will be with you.” Now let’s fast forward God’s storyline a several hundred years to the days of Jesus as he begins to share with the disciples that he intends to go to Jerusalem where he will be killed by religious authorities. In last week’s part of this story, Peter has given voice to Jesus’ unique purpose through his spontaneous declaration: “You, Jesus, are the Messiah.The son of the Living God.” And Jesus apparently pleased that the movement of God’s spirit is finally shifting the awareness of his disciples: “Blessed are you Simon, son of Jonah for flesh and blood have not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And you are to be known as Peter – the rock – and on this rock I will build my church.” Well, Jesus’ “Rock” is taking his leadership role quite seriously in today’s reading and as Jesus speaks with them of disturbing future directions, Peter’s natural instincts are to protect Jesus even from himself. “God forbid it, Lord. This must not happen to you!” How confusing for Peter to have Jesus turn on him and say: “Get behind me, Satan. For you are a stumbling block to me. You are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.” I always feel a bit sorry for Peter at this point. What does Jesus want? Peter is supposed to build his church but how can he do that if Jesus is dead? When a friend is in danger, you help him – you protect him – you save him. That is how we get on with things in this world. How confusing to be told on the one hand he (Peter) is the future of the church but then to be told that quality of strength and “rock-ness” is actually a stumbling block -- an obstacle because it preserves the status quo rather than initiating a radical reach into a new future that God envisions. This part of God’s story in Peter’s life --- as in Moses’ life --- uncovers the spiritual stretch involved in losing the comfortable ways you know in exchange for the future ways you don’t know. Jesus says that if you hold onto your life as it is, you will really lose it and if you willingly lose your life for his sake, you will actually find life. This does not always mean going out and becoming a midnight martyr – not all of us are cut out to take that message so literally, but all of us are called to examine where we are holding on tightly to keeping things as they are and where God’s light is longing to shine through us. There is a Talmudic teaching that says: “We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are.”[1] To see things through God’s eyes is…
There is a little story I came across this week in a book by Richard Rohr: “Picture if you will, a stone table, and next to it a flying carpet. The table is solid; its legs are strong. The carpet is floating at the same height as the table top, but there is nothing underneath it. You look at the table, you look at the carpet, and the Lord says, “Come.” “On that, Lord?” you ask. “How do I know it will hold me up?” The Lord insists, “I’m telling you, come over here.” “But, Lord,” you protest, “there’s nothing holding it up. How do I know it won’t fall down?” So the Lord assures you, “I have called you, and I’ll sustain you. It is I who will hold you up.” Finally, reluctantly, you give in. “Well, okay, Lord if you say so.” And so you test it out. You press on it and it looks like it goes down a bit. But it doesn’t sink to the floor. So you summon all your courage, and you climb onto the carpet. Suddenly, you’re floating! You feel so alive! You know for sure the Lord is loving you. You can hardly contain your joy. “Wow, Lord! Why didn’t I believe you? If I had listened to you sooner, I could have been reborn! I would have known what it means to live! Oh, thank you, Lord!” But then, it gets a little windy. You wonder what’s happening. “Lord, stop it,” you plead. But God doesn’t stop it. The wind blows harder, and you find yourself wondering whether you’re really so safe. You look around, and you notice that the Lord has started pulling out the threads from the carpet! Right away, you jump onto the stone table, and you feel a lot safer. But then you hear the Lord calling. “What are you doing over there? I thought you were going to trust me. Didn’t you say you would leave everything and follow me?” ”Yes, but,,,” “All right, then, trust me. Let me take away all those things you think you need. I will give you freedom. I will make you a new creation. But you have to believe in me. You have to believe that I can do it.” “I do, Lord,” you say defensively. “But please stop pulling those threads out!” You meekly get back on the carpet. Once again you feel the excitement. Once again you feel the wind. Once again you look around and --- wouldn’t you know it? The Lord’s at it again pulling out the threads. So there you are. The carpet is getting threadbare. The wind is getting gusty. That stone table looks so secure. You start bargaining [think of Moses here]. “Lord, why couldn’t I stand on that? I would still be a good Christian. I wouldn’t disobey the commandments. I’d still go to church on Sundays. I’d even give more money to the poor. I’d even increase my pledge. It’s too scary over here!” But the Lord doesn’t let you go. “Just trust me,” he reassures you. “That’s not where it’s at. This is where life is. I will be your joy. I will be your hope. I will be your fullness.” “Okay, Lord,” you say. And as the time goes on, you see the Lord continuing to pull out the threads until finally there is nothing left but him. And that’s exactly what God wanted you to see. That’s exactly what you needed to experience for yourself. It was not the power of the carpet that sustained you, it was the power of the Lord. In the end, what you thought you were going to lose is given to you in abundance… poured into your lap and overflowing…God will not be outdone in generosity. Whatever we let go of will be given back to us many times over. But we don’t know that except through hindsight. When we first set out on the journey of faith, we don’t know that.” [2] Moses didn’t know that – Peter didn’t know that. All the many rich stories in Scripture are about people of God who didn’t know that…they learned about it as they experienced the living God. Our own personal stories also disclose an amazing God whose ongoing revelation is not limited to Scripture but is a living presence of personal encounter. We don’t always know how things are going to turn out either, but our stories ARE God’s Story. We are part of a living Scripture. Sister Joan Chittister in her book Uncommon Gratitude: Alleluia For All That Is says: “The spiritual challenge of the future resides in being able to accept it before we know it…The function of the future must be, then, not simply the achievement of the goals and dreams of the present. The function of the future is to keep us growing beyond our own small designs for ourselves in the present...calls us to live with untried courage always… only the willingness to face the future can call us to become a part of ourselves we did not realize we still needed to become…Faith is the willingness to believe that, however dark the present, God’s future means only good for us...An alleluia to the future is an alleluia to the courage and faith and effort it will take to wring out of us every last drop of character, every ounce of faith, every trembling ‘yes’ we’ve ever said to the God of surprises.” [3] "Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God." is a signature phrase I use on my email. Easier said than done, certainly, but Jesus’ whisper: “I cannot use you if you do not rely on me” speaks of resurrection not death. So, be still --- listen and then trust in God’s life that yearns to live in you. [1] Remen, Rachel Naomi, Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal (Riverhead Books, NYC 2006), pg 77 [2] Rohr, Richard and Martos, Joseph The Great Themes of Scripture: Old Testament (St. Anthony Messenger Press, Cincinnati, OH 1988) pg 32-33 [3] Chittister, Joan and Williams, Rowan Uncommon Gratitude: Alleluia For All That Is (Liturgical Press, Minnesota 2010) pg 176-180 |