A couple of weeks ago I posted about my crazy week - the middle school kid and the shooting - and all that had happened just on the first day of that week. As the week moved forward, things didn’t get much easier. We met that week with the specialists from the school district to learn about all of their evaluations. I was so incredibly impressed with the time, effort, and resources that they spent working with my son to learn as much as they can about him. The reports they presented were very reflective of my son. Still, it is not easy to hear that your child is being officially classified in the school system as “emotionally disturbed.” The week continued forward full of work deadlines and important events, and a sermon that needed to be written. And what a sermon it was.
Sunday, Nov. 2, we were celebrating All Saints Day which included 4 baptisms. It was also the very last Sunday of stewardship season at my parish. So the sermon needed to touch on All Saints, baptism, and stewardship - with the gospel text being the beatitudes. Oy. I’d been mulling this sermon around in my head for at least a month and really not knowing how I on earth I was going to tie all of that together in any sort of coherent way.
And then that week hit. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d already been pretty anxious and feeling like life was chaotic, but that week just about did me in. And then there was this sermon to write. How was I going to write a sermon about God’s abundant blessings and our response to that, in the midst of this incredible chaos and fear that I was feeling? I knew that I couldn’t possibly preach that in a genuine way.
I sat down on Thursday to do some research and started reading. In my reading I came across Phillip Yancy’s book, “The Jesus I Never Knew” which includes an entire chapter on the beatitudes. I began reading and suddenly found myself just crying. I had found what I needed. I needed to be reminded that I was relying too much on myself and not enough on God. I needed to be reminded that the beatitudes are the instructions for how we learn to rely on God - that the world will tell us to rely on money and power and on our own resolve, but that really all of that is a lie. The only way we are going to get through any of this is if we rely on God. All of a sudden it all came together. Over the next couple of days the sermon just grew. I practiced it on Saturday, as always, and felt good about what it had become. Little did I know just how powerful it would be.
Sunday morning came and I started to preach at the 7:45am service. It is a small service, usually about 25 or 30 people, all of whom are incredibly faithful and amazing folks. It is such an intimate time and as I began to preach about all that had happened to me that week, I started to cry. I didn’t expect that to happen at all, but there it was. Tears running down my face. The 9:00 service is a much larger crowd, and it is much more work to preach to a room full of people - I have to be louder and a bit more gregarious to keep the attention of folks who have so many other things in the room competing for their attention. I was sure that my intentional focus on the form of preaching would prevent me from breaking down and crying again, but not so much. As I got further into the sermon, I began to see others in the room crying - and there I went. I didn’t escape the tears at the 11:15 service either.
It’s not like I’ve never cried giving a sermon before - it has happened in the past and I’m sure will happen again. But there was something different about this event. First, I really feel like I connected with the people in my congregation in a new way. I’m not really sure what that way is, but there is something there. But, more importantly for me, I left that sermon in such a different place than I was in when I started it. I have been carrying around so much fear and anxiety, fighting so hard against the chaos and the uncertainty that surrounds everything I do at the moment. I have been trying to push the river upstream and it has just been sapping me of all of my energy. But in that sermon I just let it all go. I stopped fighting and pushing and worrying and really did remember that I need to radically rely upon God.
The sermon hasn’t been posted on the church web site yet, so I’m including it here so you can read it:
Matthew 5:1-12
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Today we are baptizing 5 little people – a few babies and a few a bit older than that. 5 people are being welcomed into the house of God this morning.
You know babies are so totally and utterly… useless. Have you ever noticed that about babies? They’re just useless. They can’t do anything for themselves. They just lay there and do nothing. I mean, sure, they’re cute and sometimes they are smiley. But, really, in all seriousness, they are totally helpless.
When a human baby is born it is completely incapable of doing anything for itself. They can’t find food. They can’t move around. They can’t even regulate their own body temperature. They can’t see very well or very far away. Human babies are completely helpless.
Human babies have no choice but to be completely and radically dependent upon those around them. They have no choice but to allow others to do everything for them. Complete and utter and total and radical dependence on someone else for every last bit.
But you know what’s so great about babies? Babies don’t care what they are wearing. Babies don’t care if they live in the biggest house on the block. Babies don’t care whether they are the first kid in the mom’s group to sit up, roll over, or crawl. All a baby wants is what a they need. They want food and warmth and love. But to get it, they have to be radically dependent upon the nearest human being.
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In our gospel reading today we heard a portion of the Sermon on the Mount. We heard the beatitudes. Let me read them again for you (READ THEM)
You know whenever I hear these I think that Jesus must not have any idea what kind of world that I live in. I don’t know about you, but those qualities that Jesus says are blessed are not qualities that we value in our world. Our world does not make room for the poor and the meek. We don’t have time for people who hunger and thirst for righteousness. We think that people who are merciful are pushovers and must be weak.
The beatitudes of our world go something like this:
Blessed are the rich for they will have whatever they want.
Blessed are the strong for they shall be winners.
Blessed are the self-reliant, for they shall never need anyone else.
Blessed are the powerful, for they will be in control.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve spent a fair portion of my life working towards the goals of the world. Working towards being rich. But you know, I was never rich enough. I never actually had everything I wanted, I just always wanted more. I tried hard to be strong and tough so that I could win, but no matter how often I won, there was always that one guy I could never beat. I did everything I could to be self-reliant and independent so that I didn’t need anyone else, and I ended up all alone. I didn’t need anyone else and so there I was – all alone. I tried to be powerful and in control. But the more control I thought I had, the more I realized there were so many things that I’d never be able to control.
And so I have to wonder if Jesus was on to something. I wonder if Jesus knew a little something about the kingdom of God that we don’t know.
I think Jesus knows what we know but have such a hard time admitting. All those things that we revere, that we try so hard to get: money, strength, independence, power – those things will never satisfy us. They will always leave us wanting more.
Jesus knows what will satisfy us. Jesus knows that an authentic relationship with God will satisfy us. And Jesus knows that the beatitudes are the steps we take towards that relationship. We aren’t going to do all of these things at once. We won’t wake up tomorrow being poor in spirit, merciful, mourning, and pure in heart. But the each one of the beatitudes is like a rung on a ladder that brings us closer to God. We must begin at poor in spirit.
You know when Jesus talks about being “poor in spirit” Jesus isn’t talking about being monetarily poor, though I think there is something about being monetarily poor that teaches us about being poor in spirit. People who are monetarily poor know a few things about radical dependence upon God:
- they know that they must rely on God because they have no other choice
- the poor are easily able to distinguish between luxury and necessity
- the poor are rarely competitive, and almost always cooperative – they know that they need one another to survive
- people who are poor know that they are not the center of everything
Being poor in spirit means recognizing that God is at the center of everything. It means putting aside our belief that we can and should do everything. It is relying on God to provide for us. It means recognizing that God provides the food and the warmth and the love that will satisfy us.
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Today we celebrate all Saint’s Day. We remember all of those that have gone before us who have loved and served God in remarkable and profound ways, as well as in small and quiet ways. As I was thinking this week of the many saints I’ve heard about and read about over the years, I was thinking about how different their lives were. Some came from rich families, some came from poor families. Some lived in cities, some lived alone in the desert. Some came from big families, some were orphans. They lived all over the world. But you know, no matter how different their lives were it is clear to me that they all have one thing in common: they knew that the source of their life was God. The saints knew that the world was a messy, confusing, and difficult place and they knew that God was the source of the food and warmth and love that would satisfy them.
I have been steeped in the messiness and brokenness of the world this week. I spent most of the early part of this week talking to 5 middle school boys about respecting the dignity of all people. I came home on Monday night and learned that my downstairs neighbor had been shot in the head in her entryway. I spent most of Wed morning with a group of specialists from the school district who explained to me what it means that my son is now officially classified as “emotionally disturbed”. I watched the stock market continue to fall. I heard of more people’s homes being foreclosed. And I watched an HBO documentary about Section 60 in Arlington National Cemetery where families go to grieve those that have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
In the midst of the messiness and brokenness of the world this week one thing is clear to me: no amount of money, no amount of power, no amount of strength and independence is going to heal my heartache or this broken world. It is clear to me that I need God. That I need the food and warmth and love that only God can provide. And that to get it I need to be radically dependent upon God.
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(Pick up pledge card). This is a pledge card. You should have received one of these in the mail this week. If you didn’t there are some in the back. And if you really need one, I’d be happy to drop one off at your house.
This is the last Sunday of our stewardship season here at St. Martin’s. Next Sunday we ask that you bring your completed pledge card to church so that we can celebrate together our faithfulness to God and to this community.
I know that as I look at my pledge card this year I do so with a great deal of uncertainty. There is so much messiness in the world right now and I have no idea what is going to happen next. But I know that I need God. I know that I need to radically rely on God in every aspect of my life, including my finances.
So when I fill out that pledge card this year it will reflect my desire to come before God poor in spirit. It will reflect my attempt to reject the beatitudes of the world and to embrace the beatitudes that Jesus has given us. It will reflect my decision to radically depend on God. It is my hope that you will prayerfully consider doing the same.
