"Don't Be Afraid. There Is Enough." A Sermon on the Widow's Mite from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"Don't Be Afraid. There is Enough."

Mark 12:38-44; 1 Kings 17:7-16

            We don’t know this woman’s name.  We really don’t know anything about her, other than that she is an impoverished widow in first century Palestine, living on the margins of her society, with no safety net. No husband to protect or advocate for her.  No pension.  She’s part of a poor and vulnerable class of society. 

            So, don’t you wonder what it means to point to a destitute woman who gives her last two cents to the Temple?  Should we applaud her self sacrifice—or see her as naïve and impractical?

            Mark only uses this word for “widow” twice in his gospel, both times in the passage we just heard.  Unlike Luke, Mark doesn’t emphasize a mission to “the poor” in his narrative.

             The first time Mark mentions the poor is when a wealthy man comes to Jesus asking how he can inherit eternal life.[1]  Jesus responds: “Sell what you own and give the money to the poor.”  The man couldn’t do it.

            But this poor widow does just that. She gives it all.

            What do we do with this?  What does it mean?   Why would this poor widow give everything she had to live on?  Surely her small gift couldn’t make any difference to the Temple.   In ancient Israel, the “poor” were not required to give to the Temple.[2]  If they did give, they might have done so out of a sense of obligation… or a sense of hope.   We just don’t know.     

            Our gospel lesson today is framed by verses that show what Jesus thinks about what was going on in the Temple.  Jesus has visited the temple and cleansed it by driving out those who were selling   and tossing the tables of the moneychangers.  He quoted the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah to explain his prophetic action: “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’” But you have made it a den of robbers.”[3] 

            In today’s lesson, we heard Jesus teaching his disciples to “Beware of the scribes,” those religious leaders who like to walk around in their long robes.  Jesus said, “They like to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.”                           

            In the two parts of today’s lectionary passage, Mark offers us contrasting examples of discipleship.   These are teaching moments for Jesus as he calls his disciples to pay attention to the scribes, who “will receive the greater condemnation.”   Then Jesus points to the widow’s giving.

            This is one of the widows Jesus had just accused the scribes of abusing—offering her copper coins amidst the grand displays of generosity from the rest of the temple crowd.        

            The widow gives sacrificially—all she has to live on.  Her sacrifice is complete—so complete that Jesus wants his disciples to witness it.   “Truly,” Jesus says, “this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.  For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

            That is why we know about her today, this nameless woman—because she gave all the little she had, holding nothing back.

            But don’t you wonder?  Are we really supposed to admire a poor woman who gave her last cent to a religious institution?   Was it right for her to surrender her living to those who lived better than she did?   By ordinary human standards, what this widow did makes no sense.  Is Jesus saying we should all follow her example?  What does Jesus want us to learn from her?      

            Did you notice?  Nowhere in this passage does Jesus praise the widow for what she is doing.  Nowhere in this story does he say, “Go, thou, all of you, and do likewise.”   He simply invites the disciples to contemplate the disparity between abundance and poverty, between large sums and two copper coins, between grand donations--and real sacrifice.   He doesn’t dismiss the gifts of the rich.  He simply points out that the poor widow turns out to be the major donor in the story.

            In Mark’s gospel, this is the last of Jesus’ lessons in the upside-down kingdom of God, where the last shall be first, and the great shall be the servants of all.   When Jesus leaves the Temple that day, his public ministry is over.  In four days, he will be dead, giving up the two copper coins of his life.  The widow withheld nothing from God. Neither did Jesus.    

            In the scriptures, there are recurring themes of abundance and of trusting in God to provide what we need.

            In the Exodus story, the people begin to complain, afraid that they won’t have enough provisions for the journey ahead of them.  God responds by sending them manna—white flakes of bread falling from heaven—just enough manna for today.  The people aren’t willing to trust that God would continue to provide, so they try to hoard their food for tomorrow.  But when they wake up the next morning, they find that the left-over manna has rotted overnight.  God was trying to teach them that hoarding and lack of trust deny God’s daily providing…and the predictable and faithful grace of God.

            In today’s lesson from the Hebrew scriptures, God tells Elijah to go to Zarephath, and that a widow there will feed him.  The widow is preparing to bake the last little bit of meal and oil into a last supper for her and her son—everything she had—and then they would die.  Elijah says to her, “Don’t be afraid.  Make me a little cake, and then make some for yourself and your son.  God promises you won’t run out of meal and oil as long as the drought lasts.”  And it was so.  There was enough.

           

            Jesus, the one who gave his all for the sake of the world, for the sake of all of us, calls us to follow him… and learn from him.  The gospel gives us clues about how to live joyful lives of freedom and trust. 

            Like the angels who keep showing up in the Bible, saying, “Don’t be afraid,” so Jesus uncovers our motives, those habits of the heart that keep us holding on tightly to things, to money, clinging to the things we think might keep us safe.  Then he invites us to care for the poor, and he offers us a new life of freedom from fear-- an abundant life of gratitude and trust.

           

            So how are we to love God?  With trust, instead of fear.  With gratitude, instead of demands.  With hope instead of despair. 

           

            How do we comprehend the poor widow’s offering in the Temple?  I think we can see it as a statement of radical trust.  She chooses not to play it safe.  Instead, she gives her love gift first, trusting in God to provide what she needs. 

            But how does this happen?  How could she give everything?

I wonder if she somehow has come to feel that she has enough, and that she will have enough.  I wonder if she has allowed herself to experience life as a blessing.  I wonder how this poor widow has come to trust in God as the one who blesses and provides—abundantly, predictably, faithfully. 

            I wonder if she has discovered something about the ultimate meaning of life-- that when we give, we are most like God.  Could it be that she has come to see that-- when we are lavish and gracious and generous-- we are most like our lavish and gracious and generous God. 

             

            How much do we love God?  How much do we trust God?  These are ongoing questions that we encounter on our journey of faith.  I don’t have any easy, pat anoswers for you today.  But not to keep asking the questions is to shut God out of some of the most intimate details of your living.

            Like many of you, I enjoy supporting charitable and social causes I think are important, causes that help me to live out the Christian values that shape my life.  But my main giving is focused on the church, in this local congregation, as well as some church-related missions. 

            There is something about putting a check into the offering plate as part of worship that gives focus to my life and to my faith.  It’s part of my spiritual discipline to write the check each week.  It’s part of my spiritual growth to increase my giving each year. 

            I believe that my giving is a witness to the gratitude I have for life…and the joy and freedom that I experience when I give my money to the church and to the causes that express my faith values.

            You and I have received commitment cards in the mail.  Sometime between now and next Sunday morning, I hope you will hold it and pray over it…and consider what level of commitment will help you to grow in your faith and trust in God… and then fill it out with joy and gratitude.  Then, I hope you will offer it with great joy during worship next Sunday.   

            How do we love God?  Let us count the ways.  And then let us respond with the offering of our very lives.

            Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

November 11, 2018

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[1] Mark 10:17-24

[2] Emerson Powerey, Commentary on Mark 12:38-44 at www.workingpreacher.org

[3] Mark 11:17

"Take Heart". A sermon on Matthew 14:22-33 on the Sunday after Charlottesville.

"Alt-right" members protest the removal of the Robert E. Lee Statue in Charlottesville, Virginia.

            What a week this has been! Earlier in the week, I was reminded that on August 9, 1945 the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on Nagasaki, Japan, killing tens of thousands of people. Three days before that, the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on Hiroshima. That week, more than 100,000 people died instantly, and tens of thousands more in the following days and weeks.

            Then we heard that our president responded to North Korea’s nuclear tests by threatening them with “fire and fury like the world has never seen”--on the day before Nagasaki Day.

            Of the roughly 15,000 nuclear bombs in the world, about half of them are owned by the U.S. We have bombs that are 80 times stronger than the Hiroshima bomb.  Cumulatively, the firepower of our nuclear arsenal is equivalent to 50,000 Hiroshima bombs. It only takes 100 nuclear bombs to make the world uninhabitable — and we have an estimated 7,000.  Lord, have mercy!

            Also, this week, we heard that the Dar Al Farooq mosque near Minneapolis was bombed while worshipers were gathered for morning prayers, in an “act of terrorism.”

            Through the week, as we heard about North Korea and nuclear threats, I thought that was where this sermon was headed. But now many of us are lamenting what's been happening in Charlottesville, Virginia. I think a lot of sermons got re-written yesterday.

            In any case, I think a lot of us can relate to the fearful disciples in the boat, as they were tossed about on a stormy sea.

            In the fourteenth chapter of Matthew, Jesus and the disciples have, in the face of apparent scarcity, miraculously fed a crowd of more than 5,000 people and discovered that there was enough for everyone. Then Jesus sends the disciples back across the lake and stays to pray on the mountain.

            As the disciples are crossing the lake, a storm comes along.  The disciples find themselves struggling against the wind.  The waves are battering against the side of the boat and soaking them.  They’re a long way from the safety of the shore.  They feel alone and helpless... and afraid. Their fear would have had a lot to do with how people in ancient times perceived the sea—as a place of chaos and danger.

            As the disciples anxiously scan the horizon, they see something coming closer and closer to them on top of the water.  What could this strange apparition be?  They’re terrified!  They holler at each other in fear above the roar of the storm:  “What is it?  It must be a ghost!”

            But then they hear a familiar voice speaking to them, saying, "Take heart.  It is I.  Don't be afraid."

             

            “Don’t be afraid” is a word of divine assurance in the midst of danger or fear, when there is cause to be afraid. There definitely was reason to be afraid out on the Sea of Galilee.  Jesus doesn't calm the wind when he's walking out to his disciples in the boat. He stands in the middle of danger, on the water, with the wind blowing and commands his disciples: “Take courage. I am. Don’t be afraid.”

            Apparently, Peter takes Jesus at his word. He steps out of the boat to walk on water toward Jesus. He discovers quickly that Jesus’ words of assurance didn’t mean the dangerous wind and waves had subsided.

            Jesus doesn't calm the wind when he commands Peter to come to him.  He doesn't calm the wind when he saves Peter from drowning.
            As biblical scholar Margaret Aymer wrote yesterday on Facebook, “In the face of the storms of white supremacy and racism, the church is commanded to walk on water, crying out for rescue when we need it. In the face of “make nice” culture and fear of offending, we are still required to face into the winds with the truth that racism is sin….”
            Friday night, white supremacists assembled in Charlottesville, Virginia for a public demonstration of hate. They held torches and chanted phrases such as “You will not replace us!” “Jews will not replace us!”  “White lives matter!”
            Yesterday morning, there was a clear contrast between white supremacists who chanted “Blood and soil!” and faith groups gathering in churches and then walking quietly to Emancipation Park and gathering there, singing with arms locked together, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine….”  [The congregation spontaneously joined with me in singing a verse of the song.]
           
            I know that the term “white supremacy” is unpopular, and that a lot of people are really uncomfortable talking about racism. A lot of people think it only refers to racists who wear hoods and burn crosses. They think it’s too harsh to apply to them, the people they know, or the church. But, as Jemar Tisby wrote yesterday in the Washington Post, “we can’t change the white supremacist status quo unless we name it and confront it.”[1]
            It isn’t easy. And we worry about offending or alienating people.
            Some of us have been having conversations and reading books together, books that inform and challenge us to talk honestly with one another about tough topics.  It’s hard but necessary work for those of us who are committed to working for a just and peaceful world.

            More than 50 years have passed since Martin Luther King gave his “I have a dream” speech.   Have we made progress since that time? Undoubtedly. But we need to be honest with ourselves about where we the people of the United States are and about our history.
            In the Gospel according to John, we hear Jesus saying, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”[6]
            I believe the gospel has the power to set us free-- as individuals, as a community, as a society-- if we have ears to hear the good news… if we have faith to trust in God’s power to transform us and bind us together in Beloved Community….if we trust in the gospel’s truth to bring us through the storms…
            I appreciate the way Jim Wallis talks about the power of the truth in his latest book:[7]
            “To become more free because of the truth.  To become more honest because of the truth.  To become more responsible because of the truth.  To become better neighbors because of the truth.   To become more productive and contributing citizens because of the truth.  To become better Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, people of other faiths, or people of conscience with no religion—all better because of the truth.  To become a better and freer country for all of us because of the truth.  To become better and freer human beings because of the truth.[8]
            I agree with Jim when he says, “We can no longer be afraid of the truth about race in this country—past, present, and future—because our fears will keep us captive to all kinds of untruths.
            Our faith teaches us that there is only one race: the human race. The other “races” are things that people have made up to justify dehumanizing other human beings and using and oppressing them. Our faith teaches us that every human being is created in the image of God and is precious in God’s sight. Our faith teaches us that we are required to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.
            In the Christian view, racism is a sin. We will always have sin in this world, on this side of eternity. But we are called to “speak the truth in love” and to fight against sin in all its forms.  As long as the Church is in this world, God’s Holy Spirit will be working in and among us, leading and guiding and encouraging us, reminding us that goodness is stronger than evil and that love is stronger than hate. As long as we have breath, the Church--when the Church is truly being the Church--will not stop fighting for good.
            There’s great resistance to this holy work. When a black pastor in the largest Protestant denomination in the country brought a resolution condemning the alt-right and white supremacy, a small group of mostly white pastors dismissed it out of hand, and it was initially defeated.  It took the protests of other pastors, as well as backlash on social media, for the Southern Baptist Convention to pass a resolution condemning the alt-right and white supremacy at its annual meeting last June.
           
            More than 50 years ago, the Rev. Martin Luther King wrote a response to white pastors after they sent a message urging restraint and gradualism in the civil rights movement. 

            In his “Letter From a Birmingham Jail,” Dr. King said, “I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be some of our strongest allies. Instead, some few have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.”

            So, here we are, in 2017. Dr. King’s words resonate prophetically today.  But in the midst of the storms of life, we are still fearful. We may be afraid that there is not enough for everyone-- that if those who are different or other have equity, there won’t be enough for us. We may fear losing the privileges we have always taken for granted. We may be afraid that the arc of the universe doesn’t bend toward justice. We may fear being uncomfortable. We may fear change. We may fear offending or alienating people we care about.
            As followers of Jesus, we need to speak the truth in love. We need to be very clear that racism, domestic terrorism, religious extremism, bigotry, and blind hatred don’t represent America.  They don’t speak for the majority of white Americans.  They do real harm to people who are our neighbors. But much more importantly, they are counter to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
            There are times when we may feel overwhelmed with various kinds of problems or with the evil we see in our world, times when we may feel like we’re drowning. We might feel weak, broken, or vulnerable, or afraid of real dangers.
            But the good news is that there is help and hope.  During the storms of life, we hear Christ’s voice, calling to us, inviting us to step out in faith...  to trust in God’s grace and power. When we do, we can accomplish what we thought was impossible--with God’s help. 
            We can hear Christ calling us, through prophetic voices, challenging us, as individuals and as the Christian church, to “take heart… and to not be afraid.”
            Jesus is with us, in the midst of the storm, reaching out to us, ready to pull us out of the depths if our fears overcome us and we start to sink.
            Thanks be to God!
            Amen!

The Rev. Fran Hayes                                                                                 

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

August 13, 2017

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[1] Jemar Tisby, “After Charlottesville, will white pastors finally take racism seriously?” in the Washngton Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/acts-of-faith/wp/2017/08/12/after-charlottesville-will-white-pastors-finally-take-racism-seriously/?hpid=hp_hp-top-table-main_trumpreaction421pm%3Ahomepage%2Fstory&utm_term=.9e9820461cec

"Only the Beginning." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Easter Sunday.

"Only the Beginning"

Matthew 28:1-10 

For a lot of people, this is a season of spring flowers, a time for getting together with family, a time for chocolate bunnies and yellow marshmallow chicks.  But on Easter Sunday mornings Christians make our pilgrimage back to the tomb, looking for Jesus.

            We go with Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they go to the tomb. They were there when Jesus was crucified, and they saw him die.  They were there when Jesus’ body was carried into the tomb. 
            Now that the Sabbath is over, the women head to the tomb at daybreak.  In their despair and grief, they’ve come to say goodbye to the One who had given reason to their hopes.
            Preachers and regular church-goers know what’s coming next. But these  women at the tomb didn’t know. They had no idea--even if they had heard Jesus say things about how dying, and three days, and then rising.
            The women were approaching the tomb in the darkness, when suddenly they feel the earth quake, as an angel of the Lord comes down and rolls back the stone and sits on it.

            The angel shows the women the empty tomb, saying,  “Don’t be afraid.  I know that you came looking for Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here, for he has been raised.”

            Don’t be afraid. He has been raised.
            It’s Easter Sunday, but for a lot of people, it feels like we’re living in a Good Friday world. If you feel like you’ve been living in a Good Friday world, you can probably relate to the two Mary’s and the other disciples.  They’re stricken with grief…disillusionment… disappointment.  Things haven’t turned out the way they’d hoped.
            As Paul Raushenbush writes, “I’m waiting to feel Easter this year. That morning when I shout with that particular joy, and laugh with that particular freedom that comes from a certainty within my soul that what we say--that love is more powerful than death--is really true. Because today as hearts break and bombs drop and leaders betray and bonds fray, I don’t see love overcoming anything, and there is, deep within my soul, a despair that I can’t shake, won’t shake, because I know, for too many souls, death is real.
            “I’m waiting to feel Easter this year, even as crucifixions continue unabated and sisters and brothers of all genders and colors and races and creeds find themselves hung out to die, cut off and alone. I’m waiting for Easter this year, even as my fist clenches and mind flinches and inside me I feel walls built, and closing in, and my defense is a good offense and, meanwhile, “where is my Lord? I am looking for him and they took him and buried him and I don’t know what I am to do….”[1]
 
            Do you wonder too?  How do we celebrate Easter when vulnerable people are the victims of brutal attacks/?  When undocumented immigrants in our country are having their families separated by deportations? When the people of Flint are still struggling with unsafe water and the children are facing a lifetime of developmental problems?   How do we celebrate Easter when refugees from Syria and Sudan are crowded into camps or risking their lives to escape violence and warfare?   When, for the poor of our country and the world, it’s always Good Friday? When gay men in the Chechen Republic are being detained and tortured?  How do we celebrate Easter in a world where we try to make ourselves safe with guns… and make peace by shooting missiles and dropping bombs?
            And yet, even in the most heartbreaking of times, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary show up, even when their hearts are broken by overwhelming suffering and loss.  They love Jesus, and their love for him compels them to face death head-on.   So, despite pain and loss, despite their fear, because they love Jesus, they keep showing up.[2] 
           
            The angel says, “Don’t be afraid.” The way our English translation reads, “Don’t be afraid” could sound like a command, and it’s impossible to overcome fear on command.  But, as one of my colleagues points out, what the angel says is not a command, but rather a comforting assurance. “There is nothing to fear. You don’t need to be afraid.”  Matthew tells us that this calming voice comes from a messenger who speaks with power that’s beyond this world--a messenger who rolled a huge stone away from the door of the tomb and shone like lightning.[3]
            God’s power has overturned all expectations of how things happen in the world and show that goodness is stronger than evil and love is stronger than death. 
            The women were still afraid, of course.  But they believe the good news of the angel and obey.  They take the angel’s message to heart and, in fear and great joy, they’re on the way to tell the disciples, when they meet the risen Christ.
            The way Matthew tells the resurrection day story, we know that the women “ran to tell the disciples,” but we don’t get to listen in when they deliver the good news.
            But we know the women delivered the message, because Matthew tells us in verse 16 that “the eleven disciples went to Galilee.” And we know the story didn’t end there.  This was only the beginning.

            The good news of Easter is that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, and goes before us.

            Don’t be afraid.  There is nothing in the future that can separate us from the greatness and goodness of God.   In the Resurrection, God has triumphed over death.  God's power and love are stronger than even the power of death.  The God of LIFE-- who is powerful enough to have raised his Son from the dead-- promises that-- because he lives--  we shall live also.  In the presence of God's greatness and love, we don't need to be afraid of the future.

             Christ is risen!  Anyone who encounters the Risen Christ will never be the same again!   When we commit our life to the Lord who lives now and forever, our fear of the future changes into hope,  whether that hope is fulfilled in this life or the next.

            Do we believe that?  If we do believe it, how can that good news transform our lives?  

Easter is a celebration of the resurrection of Jesus.  But it’s more than that, or we wouldn’t be here over 2,000 years later, singing  our “Alleluias!” 

In the resurrection, God showed us God’s wondrous love and power.  When we follow Jesus, we learn more about the amazing plans God has for our lives, and we gradually learn to trust  in God’s promises. 

The angel suggests that if we want to encounter the resurrection of Jesus Christ, we need to look toward a resurrection happening in present and future tenses.  Resurrection isn’t something that happened just one Easter Sunday morning, long ago.  It keeps happening, and is continuing today with you and me.  God has big dreams for us and for the world, and Easter is just the beginning. 

In the letter to the church at Colossae, we hear the apostle Paul talking about resurrection in terms of new life.  I like the way Eugene Peterson paraphrases it in The Message: 

            “So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it.  Pursue the things over which Christ presides.  Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things in front of you.  Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is.  See things from Christ’s perspective.

            Your old life is dead.  Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God.  He is your life.  When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too--  the real you, the glorious you.  Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.” (Colossians 3)

Our new life in Christ isn’t about spiritual perfection—but of spiritual progress.  Whether we’re eight or eighty, God isn’t finished with us yet.  We are all works in progress.

In the film “Tender Mercies,” Robert Duvall plays Mac Sledge, a down on his luck country singer who manages to climb out of a bottle long enough to find a new life for himself as husband to a young widow and step-father to her young son.  The way the film tells it, all this happens through “tender mercies”—the “tender mercies” of God. 

Because that is the case, one Sunday morning Mac and his stepson are baptized in the Baptist church of the small East Texas town where they live.  On the way home, their hair still wet, they talk about what has happened to them.  The boy seems pleased enough that he has been baptized, but perhaps a little confused that the high drama of his baptism has had so little apparent effect on him.

“I don’t feel any different,” he says.  “At least not yet….  How about you, Mac?  “You feel any different?”

“No,” Mac says.  “I don’t feel any different.  Not yet.”

“Not yet,” he says.  Those words “not yet” hint at expectation and promise.

Not yet, perhaps.  But there is a power at work within us, the power of resurrection. 

I believe that God never meant for there to be only one resurrection, but many resurrections— enough to bring all of God’s people alive with the kind of life Christ has. 

In the resurrection, God showed us God’s wondrous love and power.  We discover that God has an amazing plan for our lives.  We come to trust that the story of our life with God has a joyful ending. 

In the meantime, with God’s help, we can move beyond our fears, in the presence and power of God.  We have been raised with Christ into new life.  As we learn to live as freely and openly as Christ lived, we will find our deepest and most abiding joy… and we can work in partnership with Christ to bring in God’s kingdom-- on earth, as it is in heaven. 

Christ is risen!  Alleluia!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

April 16, 2017

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[1] Paul Brandeis Raushenbush (April 2017) Michael Adee shared this on Facebook, and I haven’t find another link.

[2]Jill Duffield, in The Presbyterian Outlook. http://pres-outlook.org/2017/04/easter-sunday-april-16-2017/

[3] Melinda Quivik, in Working Preacher.  http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1990

"Don't Worry or Be Afraid." A sermon on Luke 12:22-40 from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"Don't Worry or Be Afraid"

Luke 12:22-40

In this world we live in, there’s so much to fear.  Political speeches on various parts of the spectrum have named a litany of things and people that we should be afraid of.   When we travel, we go through security screenings.  There are metal detectors at big events, surveillance cameras in a growing number of places.  Churches have security systems.  They all that remind us of the possibility of danger and possible loss.

            In my email inbox I get messages from Aviation Nextdoor and the local police with subject headings like “Be on the lookout”, “Heed the Warning”, “Arrested for Home Invasion,” “Secure your home and automobile.”    From a variety of voices, we keep getting messages:  “Be afraid.  Be very afraid.”

            Truth be told, a lot of the news is grim.  Terrorist attacks.  Mass shootings.  Global warming.   Economic worries.  Diseases. Fears of not having enough.

             

            Today, we hear Jesus saying, “Do not be afraid, little flock.” Today’s gospel lesson picks up right after the story of the rich fool that you heard last Sunday when Bob Stead preached.  Luke shares Jesus’ teaching on anxiety.  Look at the birds.  They don’t worry about stuff, and God provides for them.  Look at the lilies.  They don’t worry about stuff, and God provides for them.  How much more will God provide for you?   It is God’s good pleasure to provide in abundance.   Don’t be anxious.  Don’t worry or be afraid.   

In the final part of today’s gospel lesson, Luke suggests an important distinction between anxiety and preparedness.  Jesus knows that he is headed to Jerusalem to die, and that time is short.   He wants his disciples to live with a sense of urgency and awareness.  Life is short, and when we stop living as if we have forever--  we can stop worrying about the wrong things and chasing what’s unimportant.            

            Stuff, Jesus tells us, is not to be collected and stored up.    Stuff is to be shared… given away…used for others.  Sell your stuff and give it away to those who are in need. 

            The kind of life Jesus describes has to do with choosing to live more simply, choosing to intentionally have less stuff,  choosing to stop collecting more possessions, choosing to discover our sense of well-being in a just sharing of material possessions.

            What Jesus teaches about having a faithful relationship to possessions isn’t hard to understand.  But it isn’t easy to follow.  This is so counter-cultural, in a society in which we are known as consumers… a society in which we are bombarded by messages that try to convince us that we the things we buy and own can make us happy…secure…and content. 

            I’ve become more and more convinced that the greed and worry and fear that Jesus keeps warning his disciples about is at the root of so much of the evil and the overwhelming problems in our world today.         We live in one of the richest nations in the world.  Yet we don’t seem to have the will to make sure that the neediest of Americans have what they need.

            We have enough food to provide basic nutrition to everyone in our nation. There’s enough food in the world for everyone to have a basic diet.  It’s a matter of priorities.  What are our highest priorities?  To care for the most vulnerable in our nation?   To pay for wars?  To give tax cuts to the wealthiest people?

            Now, I believe that—deep down—a lot of us want to be more generous and gracious.  I think what gets in the way for a lot of us has to do with chronic anxieties.  We worry about whether we’ll have enough.  We’re afraid we’ll be vulnerable or dependent if we don’t build bigger barns or houses or retirement accounts, so we cling tightly to what we have. 

Jesus knows our human condition.  That’s why he spent a lot of time teaching about how to be in a faithful relationship with material possessions and how to have faithful priorities. 

            I love the way Eugene Peterson translates this passage in The Message.  Peterson hears Jesus saying, “What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting-- so you can respond to God’s giving.   People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how God works.  Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.  You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.  Don’t be afraid of missing out.  You’re my dearest friends!  The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself.

            “Be generous.  Give to the poor.  Get yourselves a bank that can’t go bankrupt, a bank in heaven far from bank robbers, safe from embezzlers, a bank you can bank on.  It’s obvious, isn’t it?  The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.    

“Don’t worry about your life,” Jesus says.  “Don’t keep striving for the things of this world…  Your Father in heaven knows what you need…. So strive for God’s kingdom, and what you really need  will be given to you as well.”

“What you really need will be given to you….It is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

            Do we believe this?   Do we live like we believe it—like we trust God to give us what we need? 

            Imagine how freeing it would be if—instead of being afraid, instead of worrying—we would stake our lives in trust in our great and faithful God!   

            We live in an age of anxiety and fear.   When we tune into the media, we hear about cultural and political polarization and divisiveness… and scarcity… and danger.   

But through our faith, we hear through the prophet Isaiah, “Do not fear, for I am with you.  Do not be afraid, for I am your God.”   We are not alone.

            Jesus asks his disciples, “Why are you afraid?”  If we trust that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus our Lord,[1]  then we don’t need to be afraid.

            In the midst of all the voices of fear, we are called to live fearlessly.  Not because the world isn’t scary.  Not because we are invincible.  Not because we don’t struggle with fear and anxiety.  But because we belong to God.

            This may sound simplistic to some, but placing our trust not in earthly treasures but in the treasures of God’s kingdom can be powerful and transformative.

            As Henri Nouwen wrote, “The more you feel safe as a child of God, the freer you will be to claim your mission in the world as a responsible human being.”

 Living fearlessly in faith can free our energy, our imaginations, our intelligence to live into the Kingdom.  It can open our hearts and empower us to embody God’s love in ways that the world so desperately needs.

            The stock market and the value of our homes go up and down. Governments rise and fall.  Corporations split and merge and restructure.  Possessions can be stolen or destroyed.  In faith communities,  income rises and falls.  The political scene is full of scary scenarios.

But don’t worry.  Don’t be afraid.  God knows what we need, and it is God’s good pleasure to provide us with what we truly need.   Life is a gift—a gift to be shared, a gift to be treasured.

            So… may we learn how to relax…and not be so preoccupied with getting or hoarding or trying to be in control-- so we can respond in faith to God’s giving.  May we learn to trust that God will provide what we truly need.   May we learn not to worry or be afraid, as we learn to trust that God is good—all the time. 

Do we believe this?  Do we believe that God is good and that God delights in giving us what we need?   Do we trust in it? 

            I pray that we do.  I pray that we can affirm our trust: God is good.  All the time.

            All the time—God is good!

            Thanks be to God!

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[1] Romans 8:38-39