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What a week we've had. A government bailout, a bear market, California now standing in line with all the sub-prime borrowers, and, just in case the bad news isn't bad enough, we've become so jaded, that oil, at $98 a barrel, is considered good news.
One of the ways to describe this week comes from one of Tom Friedman's recent NY Times columns. He wrote that he had been listening to a CNBC commentator being asked to give advice to viewers as to what were the best positions to be in to ride out the market storm. "Without missing a beat, the commentator answered: Cash and [the] fetal [position.]" Can't we relate? Just wanting to curl up and pull the covers our heads?
Aren't you glad you came to church this morning? I don't want to put salt on any open wounds after the week we've had, but I do want to name those things which are on our minds…that make us nervous and threaten our sense of security. Each of us has our own list of fears and anxieties. We bring them into our prayers and into this church.
In prayer, I often find myself asking God how I can keep my eyes and mind fully open to all the trouble in this world and still stand firm in my faith when the going gets tough and I don't feel tough enough to keep going. It's easy for us when life sails along at a comfortable and busy pace and all seems pretty much right with the world. We even get pretty good at convincing ourselves we deserve the credit when the wind is good and we're sailing along smoothly. And then, just when we think we have what it takes to be a good and faithful parent, colleague or friend, something like a giant wave usually hits us and reminds us it's not just about being good.
It's more than that. It's a truth question: Is it possible to really taste and experience life and believe God is good AND that anyone who seeks God will not lack all that is good?
It may seem counter intuitive, but God's goodness also is found in life's choppy waters. We can find it here in this sanctuary as we try and get through these sorely trying days. We cannot use church as an escape, but for finding refuge in a sheltered place…where we can feel and know God's presence among one another. Paul calls this "the fellowship of Christ's sufferings"-a place where we learn from others about faith on days that seem more against us than for us.
In today's reading from his letter to the Philippians, Paul was writing from the darkness of his prison cell. And yet, he writes about "press[ing] toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus." Paul shares how he has learned to look into the dark heart of things and see the Gospel light. For someone who has spent most of his Christian life in deep trouble, Paul reveals a passionate capacity to care, to suffer and to hope.
In these uncertain times, and let's face it-our condition is one of fundamental uncertainty, how can we harness Paul's energy to sustain us when we're being given a constant dose of bad news? True, sometimes all we can do when we stumble into those uncertain and troubled waters is pray we don't give up and drown. But in reality, "to act in this world at all, is to step into troubled waters without knowing their depth or the strength of the current."
"Restore us, O God of hosts," the Psalmist writes, "Show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved." This church is a temporary port and house of prayer. We feed our faith by worshiping together. The weekly rhythm of our worship service anchors and assures us. Here, we can hear and taste God's goodness in the Word and Sacrament. Here, we are adopted by God as baptized Christians and members of Christ's body, the Church, and the inheritors of the kingdom of God.
Knowing we can bring the world's hopes and fears into this place-even when we're stumbling in here with them-gives us endless opportunities to realign our hearts and redirect our minds toward God's promises. However, we know a ship's work is not to stay in port-Faith and obedience must come first. Prosperity, good works and eternal life will naturally follow.
Our security comes in God's promise to us. Security comes from God alone. We live in the tension of being both earth-bound and heaven-bound. The gravity of caring for children or elderly parents, working long hours (and worrying) about how to pay our mortgages and kids' educations, and assisting family and friends who need our help keep us earth-bound-just as they should.
But, thankfully, we have God's promise that keeps us heaven-bound. God cannot promise us what won't happen, But God does promise us what will happen. We may live in a world where we stumble but with God's promise, even that stumbling always leads us home-home to God with all our cuts and bruises.
Directionless and uncertain as we may feel, we are being led, often despite ourselves and even unaware, in the arms of love that will not let us go. Paul's word's can be helpful to us. He describes life as a race with a definite goal. A runner knows he cannot look back because he will lose speed or become disoriented. Stumbling along with our own doubts and feelings of helplessness, we sometimes make the mistake of looking back in the false hope someone else will take our place or will take the unwanted baton from our hand.
When we hear God's call to us ahead, and it still feels like we have a long way to go (in times of great fear and insecurity like these) this is when we need to hear Paul's energy, enthusiasm and commitment to life in Christ which can only be found in this life…to help us imagine and claim the memories, the longings, the intuitions that make life transparent and transforming as it moves forward.
It's hard to see the stirrings of new life in our stumbles, but the paradoxical faith Jesus teaches is that we must be willing to risk entering into the fullness of life. "Only those willing to risk their life will find it," he says. (Matt. 10:39) There will never be enough to satisfy our longings or make us feel safe if we rely only on the things of this earth.
God in Christ is about relationships. Look around this sanctuary at our congregation this morning. We are all surrounded by the arms of Jesus who will never let us go. Just imagine how those arms feel…how it feels when you're in the arms of someone you love.
As we celebrate communion this morning, Jesus invites us to risk leaving our fears and insecurities at this altar. Jesus wants us to leave these things and stand in readiness for whatever each moment brings. It will give us that much more room to grow in faith, with each other and in the secure arms of Jesus.
Whether you come stumbling, broken-hearted, or with fear, we are always welcome at Christ's table. we are part of God's never-ending promise. Take, eat and drink. God will always provide and transform our darkness into the light of God's goodness and grace. Amen.
