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June 24, 2012
New Testament Reading: 2 Corinthians 6:1-13
1As we work together with him, we urge you also not to
accept the grace of God in vain. 2For he says, “At an
acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped
you.”
See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! 3We
are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our
ministry,
4but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in
every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, 5beatings,
imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; 6by purity,
knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, 7truthful
speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right
hand and for the left; 8in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and
good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; 9as
unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see — we are alive; as punished,
and yet not killed; 10as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor,
yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything.
11We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you.
12There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. 13In
return — I speak as to children — open wide your hearts also.
SERMON: “Peace in
the Paradox”
A
quick peruse of the Christian section in a book store or online will yield some
very bold promises: When Joel Osteen’s
not hawking his Live Your Best Life Now book, he’s selling Every Day
a Friday: How to Be Happier 7 Days a Week.
Max Lucado picks up on this same cheery theme in his book, Great Day
Every Day. Then, you have to throw
in the other end of the spectrum from Iris Delgado. It’s slightly darker, titled, Satan, You
Can’t Have My Children. Wow.
If
Paul were a motivational Christian writer (which of course he was), he would be
somewhere in between these two. His book
title would probably be Not-So-Great-Day Most Days But Still I Rejoice
or How To Find Peace When People Want to Kill You. Not so catchy. No “live you best life now” here…instead
there are imprisonment and violence, sleepless nights, hunger, poverty, feeling
like an imposter everywhere you go, even death.
But in that same depressing breath, Paul promises genuine love, the
power of God, salvation, being well known by God and possessing everything that
no amount of money will ever be able to buy.
Either
Paul is prone to rapid mood swings (mid-sentence even!), or this persecuted
follower of Jesus is teaching with more authenticity than anyone we’d ever find
in the Christian section of a bookstore or on Amazon.
No
one really wants to hear about all that hardship, but no one wants to hear
rainbows and butterflies from a persecuted man in prison, either. Or when we face family tension, a doctor
heavy on bad news and light on time, another day exactly as empty as the one
before. We don’t need someone who
promises it will all go away unless they can actually make that happen. And saying “It’s God’s will” doesn’t really
help, either. For, we worship a God who
weeps when friends die, who hears the cry of people in slavery before they can
even put that cry into intelligible words.
Yes, God is sovereign, but that doesn’t give us permission to blame God
or the person involved when life goes wrong of its own accord.
Rather
than easy answers in the face of hardship, what we all crave is authenticity
and solidarity: the comfort found in the story of another and the assurance
that we are not alone. The church in
Corinth was no different. They struggled
with the tension of how to be one body in the midst of division and conflict. An easy answer to the persecution within and
around them would have been welcome. But
it would not have been real or lasting.
And so Paul did not give an easy answer.
Rather
than ignore the hardship all around them or superficially promise that if they
just really believe in Jesus it will all be okay, Paul embraced both. He lived in the paradox. It might mean he’ll sell less books or that
he’ll be unpopular, but that’s a risk he was willing to take. He urged this church that he deeply loved to
“not accept the grace of God in vain,” which in Greek means don’t accept “grace
with emptiness.” In other words,
superficial grace: grace that demands that every day be “perfect” and abandons
ship when the waters of life get rough.
We see in our reading from Mark this morning that God’s grace doesn’t
work that way.
While
Jesus and his disciples were sailing beyond
Galilee,
a storm arose quickly and waves crashed into their boat, swamping it. But Jesus just slept in the stern of the
boat, on a cushion (an important detail, apparently). His disciples anxiety rose with those waves
and they finally woke him, pleading, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
“...In afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments,
riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger…”
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
In restlessness, listlessness, loss of love in
relationships, anxiety over the future, regret over the past…
“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”
The
Teacher does care. When we think of our
Savior as placidly snoozing through that storm, dreaming dreams of blond
disembodied angels floating through fluffy white clouds, we miss a key detail
in the story: he woke up! He rebuked,
not his disciples for their anxiety, but the source of anxiety itself: the
storm. He commanded the wind and waves
to be still, speaking peace right in the midst of those destructive
waters. We’re not able to know the tone
of voice he used when he spoke to his disciples, but I imagine the One who
spoke gently to a dead little girl to get up and live again, spoke with the
same compassion here:
“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
Faith that denies the reality of the storm is not faith.
Peace that glosses over the rough waters of our days is not peace. Jesus reminded his disciples that even when
it seemed like they would lose their lives, in that overwhelming place of
uncertainty, fear does not reign. Peace
does. Faith does. This is the paradox we cling to.
How easy my call would be if I could assure y’all that
all of the worry in your days will magically go away if you just trust God
more. That your faith will exempt you
and your loved ones from suffering and pain, that every day is going to be like
a joyful Friday if you want it badly enough.
I’m afraid can’t promise that…at least in this life.
What I can promise you comes from our realistic
motivational Christian writer Paul:
Purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of
spirit,
genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God:
these are bigger than the heavy loads we carry.
Following Jesus in putting the poor first and radically loving those
society says don’t deserve it will mean that we are treated as imposters, but
we belong to a God who knows us more intimately than we even know ourselves,
and accepts us as we are. And we belong
to each other, with that belonging taking deeper and deeper root as we
intentionally bear one another’s joys and burdens.
All around us, it may seem that death reigns as cancer
spreads, rampant hunger goes ignored and our bodies seem to betray us in not
functioning as they once did. But in us
dwells a life that will never die: a life that we have not bought or earned but
that is woven into our very being with threads of grace. With tears in our eyes, we stubbornly rejoice
in the promise of the day when all tears will be washed away and all turbulent
waters will be stilled with a word of Peace.
Salvation is not some distant promise, it is here, today, right
now. Though some struggle to make ends
meet and others struggle for meaning in acquiring more things, we already
possess the only thing we need on this journey of life: grace.
Precious Lord, take
our hand
Lead us on, let us
stand
We are tired, We are
weak, We are worn
Through the storm,
through the night
Lead us on to the
light
Take our hand
precious Lord, lead us home.
Through many
dangers, toils and snares, we have already come;
'Tis Grace that brought us
safe thus far
and Grace will lead us home.
Amen.
Well said, Whitney!
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