The Waking Dreamer: Fear

Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts

Thursday, July 23, 2026

Keep It Simple

Matthew 13:10-17[1]

Most of you know that I’ve been talking about some of the slogans of the “Twelve Step” movement lately. They’re not necessarily biblically based, but they represent the wisdom of those who’ve faced and overcome debilitating hardships in their lives. Their experiences of making the journey from trauma through healing to serenity provide lessons for us all. That’s true of today’s slogan as well: “Keep It Simple.” Of course, these days, that’s a slogan that’s not confined to the Twelve Step movement. But it is one of the Twelve Step slogans. And in that context, it refers to focusing on what you can actually do about the people, circumstances, and events in your life. And that means letting go the things you can’t do anything about. “Keeping it simple” this way helps us keep our heads on straight when we feel overwhelmed by the parts of our lives that we cannot control.

That’s not something we do naturally. At least I don’t. When life feels like it’s spiraling out of control, we pull out all the stops to try to make things run the way we want them to. It’s a normal response to stress and anxiety. But the problem is that the “normal” ways we respond to stress and anxiety usually make things worse. We misuse substances to numb our feelings. We take those feelings out on the people closest to us. We ramp up our efforts to control our lives to get the outcomes we want, which only increases our stress and anxiety, especially when there really is nothing we can do about whatever may be causing the problem in the first place. The only real solution is to accept that the problem is out of our control and focus on maintaining healthy attitudes and life choices. Usually that means “keeping it simple” by sticking to our daily routines. In the Twelve-Step movement, they speak of doing the “next right thing.” When that’s our focus, it helps us to keep things “simple.”

I think our strange lesson from the Gospel of Matthew reflects this in a way. It’s a strange lesson because it sounds like Jesus was saying that he was trying to prevent people from turning to God. I would say that in reality, he was trying to get people to acknowledge that all their efforts to control their own sense of self-righteousness was getting in the way of the simplicity of how God actually wanted them to live their lives! It was their own obsession with measuring their piety by external means that was preventing them from examining their hearts and responding to Jesus and his message. In a very real sense, they had “shut” their own eyes and “stopped” their own ears from hearing Jesus.

Even that perspective sounds pretty edgy. Part of the problem is that the Gospel of Matthew came out of a time of extreme crisis. The early Christians for whom Matthew was writing his Gospel were likely Jewish converts. But because of their faith in Jesus, they had not only been expelled from their synagogues, but also likely had been shunned by their families. They were treated like heretics and blasphemers. When we have to live with that kind of hostility, it can affect the way we treat people. We tend to react to hostility by becoming defensive and even angry toward those who are attacking us. We tend to “circle the wagons,” so to speak, and we may attack everyone outside the circle. When we do, we not only only harm others, including those who just happen be “in the way,” we also harm ourselves. When we adopt that kind of attitude, we see “enemies” everywhere.

Unfortunately, that seems to be the context in which Matthew’s Gospel was written. The problem comes up when we internalize the attitude that everyone who is not “with us” is “against us” (contrast Mk 9:40!). When we do that, our religion becomes a convenient outlet for the stress and anxiety we may feel about the normal conflicts we face in life. Those conflicts come about simply because we live in a world full of other people who differ from us in all kinds of ways. When we view “difference” as a threat, it turns us into people who are closed-minded and hard-hearted, wielding our faith like a club, so focused on defending ourselves that we attack everyone who is “outside” what we perceive to be “our circle.”

But Jesus cut through all of that toxic religion and taught that our faith is about what God is doing in this world to bring peace, justice, freedom, and love to all people everywhere. Jesus called that the “kingdom of God.” He knew that his vision for the world was very different from the way things work. The Romans were still in power, and they wielded that power with cruelty and brutality. The wealthy oppressed the poor with no accountability. Religious leaders used their position not to serve the people but to gain wealth and power for themselves. Suffering, violence, injustice, and just plain meanness were overwhelming the world when Jesus was teaching about the “kingdom of God.” I can understand why some of his followers withdrew from the world in fear and hostility. And of course, we still face those challenges to this day. And it still leads many good people to retreat behind their faith like it’s a castle wall.

That’s why he told the disciples that there were some who wouldn’t get the point of his parables. He used parables to teach them about the “mystery” or the “secret” of the kingdom of God. And that secret is this: despite appearances to the contrary, God’s kingdom is working now to change all things and all people. God really is working to bring peace, justice, freedom, and love to all people everywhere. We see it in the “Parable of the Sower,” where the “fruit” produced by the good soil far exceeds all expectations. We see it in the “Parable of the Mustard Seed,” where a tiny seed becomes a “large tree.” We see it in the “Parable of the Leaven” where the yeast inevitably works its way through a large batch of dough. The idea is that the change the kingdom of God is bringing will inevitably work its way through this whole world.

One of the lessons I think Jesus wanted believers to come away with is an attitude toward others that differed from the religious people of his day. Despite all that remains wrong with this world, I think Jesus wanted those who followed him to fully embrace the hope that one day the kingdom of God will right all the wrongs. One day, God will restore all people and all creation to the way God intended when he made it “very good.” When we embrace this vision of what God is doing in the world, it makes it possible for us to extend the same generous welcome that God has given us to those we may see as “outsiders.” When we embrace Jesus’ vision of what God is doing in the world, we don’t have to worry about who’s “with us” and who’s “against us.” Because God’s plan is to bring us all together in his love. That means we can “Keep It Simple” when it comes to how we live our Christian lives. We can set aside our fears and hostilities and do our best to love God with all our hearts and to love our neighbors as ourselves. We “Keep It Simple” by keeping love as the focus of our faith.

Tuesday, April 02, 2024

Beyond All Hope

John 20:1-18[1]

In the face of all our recent discussion about suffering, it may seem like faith in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead on that first Easter morning might have little relevance for our lives right here and right now. In comparison with the darkness we may have had to endure in this life, something that happened so long ago and so far away might simply not seem to make a real difference for us. Beyond that, when you look at the massive suffering and violence that seem to dominate the world in which we live, it’s all too easy to conclude that money and power have the last word in our world. These harsh realities can make faith seem at best quaint and at worst a delusion. The fact of the matter is that we live in a world where it’s not easy to truly embrace the faith that Jesus’ death and resurrection brings new life to us all.

I’m not so sure the original witnesses to the resurrection had an easier time with faith. Our Gospel lesson for today presents several different responses to the resurrection on that first Easter Sunday morning. Mary Magdalene seems to react initially with fear when she sees that the stone has been moved from the tomb. So she runs back and tells the Apostles. In response, Peter and John run to the tomb. John the beloved disciple is the first one to reach it, but he hesitates to enter, perhaps out of the Jewish concern for becoming “unclean” by contacting a dead body. Later, when he does enter, the Scripture says that he “saw and believed.” When Peter gets there, he sees the empty tomb, and examines the wrappings that had been used to prepare Jesus’ body for burial, but it seems he doesn’t understand what to make of all this. The Gospel reminds us that “they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead” (John 20:9).

Three people, witnessing the same event, with three different responses: fear, confusion, and faith. I think the first two responses pretty well explain themselves. When confronted with the empty tomb, I think it would have been only natural for those who had witnessed Jesus’ terrible death only days earlier to react with fear or confusion. It’s John’s faith that seems hard to explain. What was it about what he saw that enabled him to believe? After all, he saw the same thing Mary and Peter did. It could be that John did remember and understand that Jesus had said he would have to suffer and die, but afterward he would rise from the dead. Or maybe John was just one of those people for whom faith comes easily. Maybe the difference was in the way he was able to see what they had all witnessed.

When Mary returns, she is still overwhelmed with grief and fear. By some accounting it may have been only about 36 hours since Jesus had died. She meets Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize him. She mistakes him for a gardener and actually asks him if he’s taken the body somewhere. It’s only when Jesus calls her by name that she recognizes him and believes. It takes his voice, his initiative to reveal himself to her, for her to get past her grief and fear so that she could see in such a way that she could recognize that Jesus was alive and standing right in front of her. Once she was able to get past her own feelings and see clearly that Jesus truly was alive, she returns to the Apostles again and tells them she’s seen Jesus.

When I think of this story, I wonder how the Apostles reacted when Mary first told them she had seen Jesus. Did some of them think she was crazy, or simply hallucinating out of her extreme grief? Were some of them confused? Again, the Scripture states, they didn’t yet understand that Jesus would rise from the dead. I think it’s a pretty good bet that some of them doubted—seriously doubted—that what she was telling them could be true. As some of the disciples unknowingly told Jesus later that evening, “we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel” (Luke 24:21). The implication is that now that he is dead, that hope is gone. In the same place they reported that some of the Apostles had gone to the tomb to “see for themselves,” but they didn’t see Jesus (Luke 24:24). It would seem that there was a wide variety of responses to Mary’s story, but it doesn’t sound like faith was the primary one at first.

The plain truth is that faith is difficult for some of us. There are all kinds of reasons for that. Some of us simply cannot get past bad experiences we’ve had in church. Some of us may have a more questioning bent of mind, and we’re more prone to doubt than to believe. Others may simply find faith to be mostly irrelevant to the reality of life. When our experience in life has been mostly tragedy, suffering, hardship, rejection, and pain, faith can seem like just so many pretty words. They may mean something to others, but they don’t have any real significance for life as we have experienced it.

More than that, the whole way of thinking with which many people approach life in this world these days can make it difficult to believe that something that was so out of the ordinary, the idea that a man who was tortured to death and was buried in a tomb somehow came back to life, could truly make any difference for us at all. We’re taught to believe that what we can see and touch is what is real. While faith has been around for millennia, from the perspective that only what we can observe is real, it’s easy to think of faith as “wishful thinking” or perhaps just plain superstition.[2] Almost like the equivalent of believing in vampires and ghosts. While vampires and ghosts may make for some interesting entertainment, almost nobody seriously believes in them. Why should it be any different with Jesus?

I think what makes the difference is encountering Jesus, alive and present with us here and now. That’s what made the difference for most of the disciples on the first Easter. You and I aren’t going to be seeing him like we can see one another right now, the way the first disciples met Jesus. I’m talking about an experience where we know in our hearts that we have been sustained by a love that is beyond what our senses can perceive.[3] When we have an encounter like that, it changes the way we see things, whether we’re prone to believe or more prone to doubt. It enables us to believe that God is not limited to the way things normally work in our world. An encounter with the living Christ in our lives can enable us to see that that God already working to make all things new in hidden ways (and in some not so hidden ways) here and now among us. It enables us to embrace the good news of Jesus’ resurrection as a promise that points toward a future filled with hope and joy and life. Death is not the ultimate reality for us; life in and through the risen Jesus is the final word. Meeting the risen Christ for ourselves makes it possible for us to see our lives from a perspective of faith that goes beyond all the hopes that our normal everyday experiences may offer us.

[2] Cf. Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 182: “when we experience tragic suffering in our own lives and see so much tragic suffering in the world, we wonder whether all talk about a loving and just God is not in fact ... wishful thinking.”

[3] Cf. John Caputo, On Religion, 91, where he lays out the options: believing that the world of faith is what is “really real,” believing that faith is “unreal” in comparison with the observable forces at work in the world, and a third way, in which faith is directed toward the reality that is beyond what our senses perceive as real. He also says that (ibid., 125) in the face of the “specter of a heartless world of cosmic forces,” “Faith is faith that there is something that lifts us above the blind force of things, .... That there is something ... or someone ... who stands by us when we are up against the worst, who stands by others, the least among us.”

Thursday, August 11, 2022

Looking for Goodness

Luke 12:22-40[1]

I think it’s getting harder to find goodness in this world. The way things work these days makes it necessary to assume that people have some hidden motive, and to be constantly on our guard. It used to be scam phone calls. So many of us cancelled our land lines to avoid them. Then it was the emails. So we have “spam filters” to protect us. Now it’s our cell phones and even text messaging. All of that just reinforces the idea that it’s better to go through life suspicious of everyone and everything. These days, it’s not only the “buyer” who needs to “beware.” We all have to beware constantly of the bad actors who are out there trying to take advantage of us.

Good judgment is always a virtue. But I wonder whether the suspicion all the scams out there provokes in us doesn’t skew our attitude toward life in general. When we’re always on our guard against falling for a trick, always suspicious of people we don’t know, always skeptical about whether we can trust anyone, it changes us. Instead of being open-hearted, open-handed people who freely share God’s love and grace, we become fearful people who put up all kinds of walls to protect ourselves. As I’ve said before, fear blocks us from a lot of things. It keeps us from seeing God’s goodness all around us. It’s hard to shine the warmth of God’s unfailing love when we’re always worried about whether people are trying to exploit us somehow.

Our Gospel lesson for today reminds us to base our lives on our trust in God, not other people, and not even our own resources. As I’ve mentioned before, this is a major theme in this section of Luke’s Gospel. We’re not just to pray in the confident trust that God knows our needs, cares about us, and delights in providing what is good for us all. Jesus calls us to live our whole lives based on confidence in God’s goodness. And it’s based on that confidence that Jesus addresses what faithful discipleship looks like. Living from this bottom-line confidence in God’s goodness not only frees us from our fears, it also enables us to practice the mercy that the parable of the Good Samaritan calls for: being a neighbor to everyone we meet.

Part of the backdrop for our Scripture reading today is the Parable of the “Rich Fool.” There Jesus warned against thinking that our lives depend on our own ability to provide for ourselves. I believe he knew that the more we think our lives are secured by what we have, the more subject to fear we are. So we’re constantly trying to get our hands on more, because fear makes what we have seem to be never enough. That’s what Jesus called “greed,” or as older translations call it, “covetousness.” Throughout the ages, as St. Paul said so long ago, many have agreed that this desire for more “causes all kinds of trouble” (1 Tim 6:10, CEV).

Instead of operating on the belief that your life “consists of the sum total of your possessions” (Lk 12:15, The New Testament for Everyone), in our lesson for today Jesus calls us all to trust in God’s goodness to provide for our needs. That we can trust in God’s goodness is something that Jesus reinforces with common sense and with what anyone can see in nature. First, it’s just common sense that “Life is much more important than food, and the body much more important than clothes” (Lk 12:23, Good News Translation). It also makes sense when Jesus asks the question, “Can worry make you live longer?” (Lk 12:25, CEV). If worrying can’t make us live longer, neither can it put food on the table or clothes on our back. Only God can do that!

Second, we can see evidence in nature that helps us trust in God’s goodness to provide for our needs. Jesus pointed to the birds in the air and the wildflowers in the fields. While ravens might not seem all that important to us, and may even be a nuisance to some, they’re God’s creatures, and God “gives them food when they need it” (Ps 145:15, GNT), just like he does for all creatures. Jesus also pointed to the beauty of wildflowers, that are more beautiful even than “Solomon in his royal robes” (Lk 12:27, NIrV). Again, his point is that if God provides such beauty for a field of wildflowers, how much more will he provide our needs.

As I’ve said before, the underlying foundation for all of this is a way of looking at who God is. Just as with prayer, so also with all our needs, we’re not looking to a God who is too far above us to care, or to God who gives only grudgingly. So instead of storing up treasures for ourselves while ignoring those around us, which Jesus makes clear is an “unwise” way to live, we can choose a different path. We can devote our lives to “seeking the kingdom” by showing love for our “neighbors,” all our neighbors. As we share what God has given us with those in need, we not only store up an “unfailing treasure in heaven” (Lk 12:33), we also become a community of whom people can say they see the warmth of God’s love shining through us.

I think it’s important to recognize that we really don’t have to look all that far to see signs of God’s goodness among us. It’s as close to us as the birds and the wildflowers that are always around us. But it’s also there when someone gives a neighbor a helping hand. Like when a farmer is injured, and his friends work his family’s crops. Or when a group of people get together to put on a rummage sale, a bake sale, and grill some burgers, brats, and dogs, all for a good cause. It’s there. We can see it all around us, all the time. We just have to learn to look for it, and to trust that God’s goodness will always be there to support us.

[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, PhD on 8/7/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube Channel: https://youtu.be/6R7bAu88JsQ

Wednesday, July 20, 2022

The Joy of the Kingdom

Psalm 30; Luke 10:1-20[1]

Let’s be honest: our world feels like chaos right now. We’ve already lived through a time of turmoil that most of us couldn’t have imagined a couple of years ago. And if the sweeping changes that have affected everything from gas prices to the ways movies are released haven’t been enough, it seems like every week we’re hit with something that is “unprecedented.” It feels like that word is getting worn out this year! If you look closely at your friends and neighbors, or even if you look closely at yourself in the mirror, I think beneath the appearance of everything being fine, many of us are actually struggling. We’re tired, we’re stressed out, and we’re afraid. And the “hits” just keep on coming.

When you look at all that, it may seem completely out of touch with reality to even talk about “joy.” How can anyone in good conscience talk about “joy” while so many are suffering so desperately? And yet, with all the pressure we’re all living under, I would say that finding joy in our lives is precisely what we need. When we live out of our stress and fear, we are never able to be our best selves. But finding joy in life gives us the hope that enables us to rise above all that would box us in with fear and to live out of our compassion and kindness instead.

Our Gospel lesson for today might raise this question for some of us. When you look at all the turmoil and the suffering going on, it may seem irresponsible to talk about the “joy of the Kingdom.” But the joy found in our Gospel lesson for today doesn’t come from some naïve detachment from the harsh realities of life. It comes right out of them. In our lesson for today, Jesus warned those who would take a stand for the Kingdom of God of the dangers it may involve. In this context, he was sending 70 (or 72) of his followers “on ahead of him” to take the good news to as many people as possible. And he was preparing them for what will happen as they work to spread the “peace” of God’s kingdom.

Jesus knew that there would be some who would welcome the peace they were bringing into their homes and their lives. But he also knew that there would be some who would reject it. He warned them that he was sending them out “like lambs into the midst of wolves” (Lk 10:3). Jesus had already told them more than once that he must go to Jerusalem where he would face rejection, torture, and eventually death. And he warned those who would follow him that they must be prepared to take up their own cross “daily” (Lk 9:23). Jesus knew that those were willing to join him in sharing the “peace” of God’s kingdom would not be welcomed by everyone they met along the way. And he knew that some of them would literally risk their lives for the sake of the good news.

Even though this group of disciples apparently did not face that level of threat on this occasion, the call to follow Jesus and to carry out the mission of the Kingdom of God would sooner or later lead many of them into danger. We might think that would put a damper on their sense of joy in serving God’s purposes in this world. But that was not the case. As the New Testament shows us, time and again those who suffered for the sake of their faith considered it a privilege to be counted worthy to suffer for the sake of Christ, for the sake of God’s kingdom, and for the sake of the peace, justice, and freedom God was bringing into the world.

Their joy in serving the kingdom of God didn’t come from the ease or comfort of their lives. Rather it came from the promise of salvation. That’s what Jesus meant when he instructed his disciples to “rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Lk 10:20)! Their joy was inspired by the confidence that God will never fail us or forsake us but will be with us no matter what our circumstances. Their joy was inspired by the assurance that God will keep his promises. Their joy was inspired by their faith that God’s kingdom will make all things right and restore everyone and everything to life. That was the kind of joy they found as they followed Jesus in ministry to their world.[2]

Jesus continually bore witness to the joy of the Kingdom—in his parables, in his proclamation of the Gospel, and in his life. What makes the good news about Jesus so joyful is the faith that God’s kingdom of justice, peace, and freedom is already transforming this world. That hope frees us so that we can live joyfully now, even in the midst of all the difficulties we may face, and even in the face of the suffering that many have to endure!

When you think about the stress and fear we’re all going through right now, I think we might agree that we could all use a dose of joy right about now. I’m not talking about looking at life through rose-colored glasses. I think the joy we need is the joy that Jesus pointed us to: the joy of God’s future, where those who suffer will be comforted, the poor will be supplied with everything they need, and the oppressed will be set free to live the lives they were meant to live. It’s a joy that comes from looking for the day when God will turn all the mourning in the world into dancing. As we redirect our lives from fear to joy, we can serve others with love in the hope that God’s kingdom is already making all things new!

[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 7/3/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube Channel: https://youtu.be/W4DbflNw06Y

[2] Jürgen Moltmann, The Passion for Life: A Messianic Lifestyle, 74, calls this kind of joy the “laughter of the redeemed, the dance of the liberated.” Moltmann uses this phrase with reference to the celebration of the resurrection at Easter, but I would say that it applies as well to the joy of the kingdom of God in Jesus’ ministry.

Monday, November 29, 2021

Freedom is Near!

Luke 21:25-36[1]

It doesn’t take any great insight to observe that we are living in a time when things are not as we expected them to be. While some scientists warned us that a global pandemic was on the horizon, most of us didn’t pay much attention. I surely didn’t! The problem is that when life doesn’t go the way we expect, it can feel like chaos. There are a few personality types who actually thrive on chaos, but for most of us it causes stress and fear. And some of us may find ourselves “shutting down,” so to speak. We may find it difficult to keep doing our normal everyday tasks. Trying to get through the day may feel like we’re wading hip-deep in molasses!

There are a lot of reasons why different people react to uncertainty in different ways. But there are some things that are true for all of us. For one thing, our brains are hard-wired to respond to anything we perceive to be a threat. Fear can creep up on us when we least expect it, and once it gets hold of us, we can have a hard time thinking straight—literally! Another factor is that most of us have a lot of expectations about the way life is “supposed” to be. They can be so deeply ingrained in us that they become like “scripts” for life. And when life doesn’t “follow the script,” our expectations can be like chains that bind us. Unfortunately, I’d have to say that these uncertain days have revealed that we are all less “free” than we would like to think.

Jesus addressed the uncertainty of his times in our Gospel lesson for today. As we’ve mentioned before, the situation in Judea was unstable and even chaotic. Although the Romans appeared to be firmly in control, there was a constant undercurrent of resentment and even rebellion among the Jewish people. There actually was an underground group who made it their goal to assassinate Romans and Jewish leaders who were perceived to be traitors to their people. All of this would boil over into an all-out war within a few decades, and the result would be Jerusalem destroyed. Eventually, the Jewish people would be expelled from their land and prohibited from living there.

I think Jesus’ disciples must have been aware of what was going on. While they may have hoped that Jesus might be the one to lead them to overthrow their Roman oppressors, the fact that they couldn’t predict the outcome of any of this led them to ask Jesus for reassurance. They asked him to tell them the “signs” as a way of making the stress and uncertainty more “manageable.” After all, we’re not so afraid of what we can predict. But Jesus didn’t give them any signs. Instead, he told them that the world in which they lived would continue to be as uncertain and unpredictable as ever. If they wanted reassurance, they would have to look beyond their expectations and their fears.

As we saw a couple of weeks ago, Jesus answered his disciples’ desire for reassurance in an unexpected way. He told them there would be “distress among nations” due to their “confusion” (Lk 21:25). He said that people would “faint” from “fear” and dread of “what is coming upon the world” (Lk 21:26). But he urged them not to give in to fear and dread. Rather, he said, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (Lk 21:28). “Redemption” is a word that might not use every day. But Jesus was talking about freedom—from the Romans, from their fears, from everything that kept them from living fully.

It may seem like a strange response on Jesus’ part. But I think Jesus was pointing them to something beyond the everyday affairs of life that they could “manage.” He pointed them to the day when he, the “Son of Man” would come “with power and great glory” (Lk 21:27). And as our lesson from Jeremiah reminds us, the promise is that he would come to do “what is right and just” so that the people would live in safety (Jer. 33:15-16). That’s the kind of “redemption” or “salvation” Jesus promised: that one day he would come with God’s power and authority and would set right all the wrongs and set free all those who live under oppression of any kind. And he reminded them that this promise would be kept, saying, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away” (Lk 21:33).

It may seem odd to be talking about these things in Advent. The coming of Christ to set right all the wrongs may seem like dreaming of what lies on a distant horizon. We might wonder how this helps us find freedom in the midst of the uncertainty of our times. While it’s always helpful to be aware of our fears and expectations and the way they affect us, we don’t have to let them define our lives. I find that when I shift my focus away from my expectations and my fears to faith in the God who has promised not only to send us a savior but also to be our savior, I feel much less troubled by the surprising ways life can twist and turn. That kind of freedom is always available to us.

More than that, however, this is the season to celebrate the birth of the one who made the very promises we have based our lives on. I think the scripture readings for this season point us forward for a reason. Just as certainly as Jesus came to be “God-with-us” in the manger so many years ago, so he will come with God’s power and authority to fulfill every promise. When our fears overwhelm us because of the chaos of our days, we need a way to help us feel more grounded. One of the ways we can do that is to put our trust in the promise Jesus made, that our freedom is near. And when we doubt that we can remember that his words remain true forever!

Wednesday, June 23, 2021

They Still Know His Voice

Mark 4:35-41[1]

I’ve mentioned several times recently that faith isn’t easy. Faith is a choice to look at life from the point of view that God’s love is the ultimate reality, and not death. That’s not always easy for us to do, especially when someone close to us has died. Faith means opening ourselves to a relationship with God that will change us from the inside out into people who live all of life for him. That’s not easy to do either. It can be frightening to open ourselves to that much change. Faith means that we decide to let go our illusions of control and surrender our lives into the hands of only one who can truly make a difference. That’s also not easy, especially when life seems to “fly apart” on us.

I think for many of us, one of the facets of life that makes faith difficult is that so much of what happens makes it hard to believe that God is the one who is truly working in our lives and in the lives of all people to make a difference. We are drawn to believe that we live in a world created by a loving God. And yet every day we see bad things happening to good people. All too often those bad things happen to the people we love, or even to us. This poses perhaps the greatest challenge to our faith. In the face of the fact that “the wrong seems oft so strong” how can we continue to trust that “God is the ruler yet”?

I believe our Gospel lesson for today addresses this problem, but perhaps not in the way you might think! The story of Jesus calming the storm is one that is familiar to most of us. But if we look closely, I think we may be in for a few surprises. The first surprise is that while the disciples are battling a “great windstorm” such that “the waves beat into the boat” and it was being swamped, Jesus was asleep (Mk. 4:37-38)! Some have said that this was a demonstration of Jesus’ “serenity … due to his trust in God.”[2] That doesn’t make much sense to me. In Mark’s gospel, this episode takes place at the end of a full day of teaching the crowds that were thronging to him. I think he was asleep because he was exhausted!

The next surprise is the way the disciples spoke to Jesus: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mk. 4:38). That’s not the way you would expect those who were to become the apostles and leaders of the church, and who would eventually be venerated as “saints,” to speak to Jesus! John Calvin tried to “excuse” the sharpness of their language.[3] Several of the disciples had made their living by fishing the Sea of Galilee. They knew how dangerous the storms were. They knew how easy it was for a swamped boat to sink. I think what they said reflected the fact that they believed they were about to die!

I would say that the ultimate surprise in this story is the fact that when Jesus woke up, he “rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’” (Mk 8:38), and wind and the waves were calm! Now, that might not be so surprising for us. We’ve all heard this story so many times that we know that’s how it’s “supposed” to turn out. But I would say that the disciples who were in the boat with him were stunned. They did not expect Jesus to be able to command the wind and the waves, because that’s something that only God can do in the Bible![4]

I think that takes us back to the “surprise” in the way Jesus’ own disciples responded to him. I think their panicked remark, “don’t you care that we are perishing?” was a very true-to-life statement. It reflects the very real danger they faced! In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ response to them is perhaps equally sharp: “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” (Mk. 4:40). I would say that the implication is that they didn’t! And the way the episode ends is with the observation that “they were filled with great fear” (Mk 4:41, not “awe” as in the NRSV!). We don’t expect those who would later become apostles and the founders of our faith to respond to Jesus with fear!

I think Mark tells this story in such a surprising way on purpose. I think he knew that there were people in the community of faith for whom he wrote his gospel who were facing challenges that pushed them beyond the limits of their ability to believe. I think he wanted to reassure those believers in his day that their struggles with faith were normal, because even the twelve struggled with faith! But beyond that, I think Mark wanted to remind us all that, no matter what may come our way, Jesus was and still is the one whom even the wind and the sea obey.

For centuries (literally!) we have been told that the point of this story is that Jesus calms the storms of life. And sometimes he does. But the problem is that sometimes he doesn’t. And that’s when faith can be challenging for us. I think we can hold onto faith even in those times, however. The authority and power that Jesus demonstrated on the Sea of Galilee was the authority and power that God had given him to make God’s rule a reality in the lives of the people. And Jesus is still the one who works in our lives to bring about God’s purposes. We may not understand why God’s purpose doesn’t always translate into calming every storm we have to experience. Our perspective on what God may be doing in and through our lives is limited, and we don’t always know what’s at stake. But I think we can entrust our lives, come what may, to the one who commanded the wind and the sea and they obeyed him. As the hymn reminds us, “the waves and wind still know his voice.”

[2] A. Y. Collins & H. W. Attridge, Mark: A Commentary on the Gospel of Mark, 260.

[3] John Calvin, Commentary on a Harmony of the Evangelists Matthew, Mark, and Luke, vol. 1 p. 424-25. He basically says that allows that they “could” have expressed faith if they hadn’t let their fear get the best of them.

[4] William F. McInerny, “An Unresolved Question In The Gospel Called Mark: ‘Who Is This Whom Even Wind And Sea Obey?’” Perspectives in Religious Studies 23 (Fall 1996): 259. See Gen 1:6-7; 6:17; Isa 43:16; Ps 65:7; 74:13; 77:19; 89:9; 104:6; 106:9; 107:29; and Job 9:8; 26:12; 38:16.

Wednesday, April 07, 2021

Afraid?

Mark 16:1-8[1]

On this day, we celebrate one of the most amazing of all the wondrous acts the Bible recounts to us: that God raised Jesus from the dead on the third day. It is the bedrock upon which our faith is grounded. It constitutes the “first act” of God’s ongoing work of transforming everything and everyone until all things are made new. The Scriptures speak of what happened on that first Easter Sunday as perhaps the most significant demonstration of God’s power. And they assure us that God is working in all of our lives with that same power. And for that we celebrate this day perhaps above all other days in the Christian year.

But I think that the Resurrection also provokes some hesitation on our part. It’s hard enough to wrap your head around God bringing Jesus back to life. But when we start talking about changing everything and everyone, we might get more than a little uncomfortable. We like the routines of our life because they make us feel safe. For God to intervene in the matter of Death suggests that God can intervene in anywhere he chooses. But we may not want God to start “meddling” with our lives; we may be quite satisfied with them as they are. If you really let the message of Easter, that by raising Jesus from the dead God demonstrate his power and his intention to change everything, it might not be such good news after all. If everything is changing, that means we may have to change our whole approach to life. And change is not usually a welcome guest.

I think some of this may lie behind our Gospel reading for today. It’s somewhat strange in that the only witnesses to the empty tomb respond not with joy, as in the other Gospels, but with fear! In Mark’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome had been the only ones of Jesus’ whole group of followers, including especially the men who would later become the “Twelve Apostles,” who had the courage to actually witness Jesus’ death on the cross. And in our lesson for today they are the only ones who have the courage to go to the tomb to properly prepare his body for burial.

But when they get there, they are greeted by several sights that seem to throw them. First, the stone that sealed the tomb was removed. That in and of itself would have caused alarm. They may have wondered whether someone had tried to break in to desecrate Jesus’ body. When they entered the tomb, they saw two things they didn’t expect. Jesus’ body wasn’t there. The tomb was empty. Again, that would have confused and likely upset them. But they also saw “a young man,” apparently an angel, sitting on one end of the place where Jesus’ body had been. It’s no wonder the Gospel says “they were alarmed!” I think at that point my head would have been spinning so fast I wouldn’t know what to think!

When the “young man” spoke to them, he began by reassuring them that there was no need to be alarmed or afraid. He announced to them the good news of Easter: “you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified one. He has been raised; he is not here” (Mk. 16:6). Although Jesus had told his disciples several times that he would be raised to life after his death, they could scarcely grasp the idea that he would die. They had absolutely no conceptual framework to even understand that he might be raised from the dead! The “young man” then “commissioned” the women to go and tell Peter and the others the good news and that Jesus would meet them in Galilee.

What follows seems almost out of place in a “Gospel” about Jesus. Mark says that “they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid” (Mk. 16:8). That’s not what we would expect to happen, in comparison with the other Gospels. They’re “supposed” to go out joyfully and share the good news with the others. Of course, the traditional ending of Mark’s gospel “remedies” that problem, but most NT scholars, myself included, believe that Mark’s Gospel originally ended with this strange verse.

When you look at things from that perspective, it almost casts the role of the women in a not-so-favorable light. They were the only ones to witness the empty tomb, and rather than obeying the commission they received to go and tell the others, they (initially at least) kept it to themselves out of fear. I think ending his Gospel this way this may have been intentional on Mark’s part. When you end the story of Jesus with the only witnesses to his resurrection remaining silent due to fear, there’s something inside you that cries out for a different ending to Jesus’ story. It compels us all to tell the story and not be silent! Of course, we all know that the women did tell the story, Jesus did appear to his disciples, and those who were absent from the crucifixion were transformed into bold evangelists!

One of the interesting features of the Bible is that whenever anyone has a true encounter with God, they almost always respond with fear. When God breaks through to our lives, it’s not an average run-of-the-mill day! It pushes us beyond what we think of as the safe and secure space in which we like to conduct our affairs. I think that’s what happened with the women at the tomb. They were the only ones to have the courage to follow Jesus to the cross, to see where he was buried, and to return to the tomb. They were the ones who were commissioned to tell the good news to the others. Their response of fear and amazement was the “normal” way in which people responded to what God was doing in and through Jesus in Mark’s Gospel. And I think that’s still true today. When we come to the place where we have to choose to really let God into our lives, our first instinct may be to shrink back with fear. But the one who over and over again says in Scripture, “Do not be afraid,” is the same one who will take the lifeless routines our fears box us into and bring us new life in surprising and wonderful ways.

Wednesday, September 02, 2020

Human Things

Matthew 16:21-28[1]

Our lives are filled with distractions. I’d say we have more distractions now than ever before, but I also think there have always been activities to occupy ourselves. We fill our lives with distractions primarily because we feel, in the depths of our soul, that we are alone in this world. We may have all the family, friends, and support we could ever want, but we inhabit a space that feels very much like it has a sole occupant: ourselves. Most of us are deeply uncomfortable with that sense of solitude. It feels empty to us; it feels lonely. So we fill up our lives with activities to distract ourselves from that emptiness.

But the truth of our lives is that we are never alone. The promise of Scripture is that God is “God-who-is-with-us.” And the God who is with us is also at the heart of his very being faithful. That means that God will never “fail us or forsake us.”[2] God will always be the “God-who-is-with-us.” And because God is also the “God-who-is-for-us,” we can trust that God loves us, and his love for us never fails. When we truly grasp these truths in the depth of our souls, we can know that we are never really alone. That frees us from the need to fill our lives with “human things” that distract us.[3]

Our Gospel lesson for today speaks to this. Jesus announced to his disciples that his commitment to God’s kingdom meant that he would have to go to Jerusalem to die. And then he proceeded to tell them that if they wanted to be his disciples, they must deny themselves, take up their own crosses, and follow him. Furthermore, he taught them that the only way to truly live is to give themselves away for the sake of others. It’s no wonder that Peter “rebuked” Jesus by saying literally, “May God have mercy on you, Lord!” (Matt 16:22). The idea is that God in his mercy would spare Jesus (and them all) from this fate. That’s why it’s normally translated something like “Heaven forbid, Lord!”

But Jesus knew his path and where it was leading him. And so he rebuked the rebuke, so to speak. He told Peter, “you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things” (Matt. 16:23). What those “human things” were we don’t know for sure, but we can probably guess. Many Jewish people in that day expected the Messiah to overthrow the Romans and ascend to the throne of David. The idea of a Messiah who would sacrifice his life and die simply made no sense to them. And as James and John illustrate, it’s likely that the disciples had their hopes set on the “perks” that would come their way when Jesus took his “rightful place” (in their minds).

Now, of course there’s nothing wrong with setting your sights on doing great things. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with seeking to serve the Kingdom of God. But the problem comes in when we get our “selves” involved. Our desires to achieve are related to filling the void we feel our own hearts. We strive to stay busy in order to validate ourselves in the eyes of others and in our own eyes. And the more intently we focus on our “selves” the tighter that space that we inhabit becomes. Finally, we are trapped by the fear of losing what we have convinced ourselves we absolutely must have in order to be “okay” with ourselves. We are trapped by “human things.”

But as Jesus warned his disciples, when we try to “save” our lives in this way we only wind up losing them! When we get trapped in the prison of our own self-interest, our own needs, and our own fears, it becomes a place that robs us of life itself. All the ways in which we try to fill the void we fear only close the trap around us more tightly. The harder we try to cling to these “human things,” the more we confine ourselves to that trap that robs us of life. We only truly discover the life that God gives us when we finally and fully understand that God is with us always, and that God loves us fully forever. When we understand that the fundamental truth of our very existence is that we are deeply loved by God, then we can let go all the things we cling to so tightly and open ourselves to God’s presence. Then we can see all the “human things” we use to fill our lives for the empty pursuits that they are, and instead find the true meaning of our lives in the love of God which never lets us go!

In some respects, this is only a matter of truly finding our way out of our own distractions and learning to love God with all that we are. When that deep, deep love of God becomes for us the truth that sets us free, we find that the door to the trap is opened, and we can live our lives and love those around us and serve God and others with hearts full of joy. We find our lives when we lose them for Christ’s sake. We find our lives when we find them filled with God’s love. We learn to truly live when we let go the “human things” that haunt us and entrap us.

[2] Deuteronomy 31:6, 8; Joshua 1:5; Hebrews 13:5.

[3] Cf. Henri Nouwen, The Only Necessary Thing, 43-47, 67.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

In God's Hands, Part 2

In God’s Hands, Part 2

Psalm 31[1]

In our culture, it seems that religion is something that has more to do with dying than with living. For many people, Christian faith is all about making sure they’ll “go to heaven when they die.” Even at its best, this perspective is one that views faith as preparation to “meet our maker,” a way to approach death with confidence rather than fear. While there is truth in those sentiments, I think those who make Christian faith about dying have got it somewhat backwards. Christian faith is about living!

When we read our Psalm for today, we naturally think of Jesus’ cry on the cross, “Into your hand I commit my spirit” (Lk. 23:46), as a dying prayer. But if we view it in the light of the Psalm from which it was taken, we have to take it rather as a life motto. The Psalmist recounted all the hardships of life—enemies who seek to undo him, anxiety and sorrow from opposition, fear and even shame. At the end of it all, the Psalmist could say, “I am as forgotten as a dead man” (cf. Ps. 31:12, TEV).

And yet, in spite of all the afflictions he endured he could pray, “Into your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God” (Ps. 31:5). One of the details of this verse is that the Hebrew word translated “spirit” can also be translated “life.” In a very real sense, the Psalmist was entrusting his whole life to God. Despite any hardships, he could say, “it is up to you, God, what becomes of me, and I am willing to have it so.”[2] Later in the Psalm he said it this way, “my times are in your hand” (Ps. 31:15).

The whole Psalm is a prayer of trust, of confidence in the “faithful God” (Ps. 31:5), literally in Hebrew “the God of truth” (el-emeth). The Psalmist trusted in “the God who can be relied on and believed in because [God] is true to himself.”[3] And so the end of his prayer is “Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you that wait for the Lord” (Ps. 31:24).

That’s a prayer for life, not a cry of death! From that perspective the prayer “Into your hand I commit my spirit” is more of a motto for living than a prayer for dying. That sense of trust defined Jesus’ entire life, not just his final days. Time and time again Jesus told his disciples that his life and his purpose were entirely directed by God. Jesus is the perfect example of a life lived by entrusting oneself into God’s hands. He humbled himself and sought God’s direction for his life. He trusted God’s goodness, unfailing love and faithfulness. He was willing to take the risk of following God’s will for his life and living God’s ways of justice and mercy and love. His whole life, indeed his very being, was motivated by the prayer, “Into your hand I commit my spirit.”

We’re used to thinking that if we live that way, life will turn out the way we want it. After all, those who obey God are rewarded, both in this life and in the next. Or so we presume. But when you take the prayer “into your hands I commend my life” as seriously as Jesus did, it’s likely to lead to a cross. Actually seeking to make God’s ways and God’s purpose our way of living in our day-to-day reality usually goes against the grain of our culture. We will very likely find ourselves swimming against the stream. And in some cases, as Jesus said, we will have to give up what we cherish most in this life.

There are times in our lives when the circumstances in which we find ourselves are more than we can bear. Like the Psalmist, we may feel like we are surrounded by enemies with no way out. The challenge of Scripture to us is to find a way to entrust our lives—all of life—into God’s hands. That’s not an easy thing to do, especially when the situation feels overwhelming. In those times, we may cry out in fear, even as the Psalmist admits he did. I don’t think we need to feel ashamed of that; fear doesn’t mean we don’t have faith, it means we’re human. We can feel afraid and still have the courage to entrust our lives into God’s hands. And when we do, we find—in God’s hands—grace and unfailing love, strength and reassurance to see us through whatever we may have to endure.

[2] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 144. Cf. also Jürgen Moltmann, “Good Friday: Birth of Hope from the Cross of Christ,” in The Power of the Powerless, 120, where he calls this “believing with one’s whole life.”

[3] Mays, Psalms, 143; cf. also Kraus, Psalms 1-59, 363, who renders it “the faithful, dependable God.”

Sunday, May 10, 2020

Not Afraid

Psalm 23[1]

A world-wide pandemic. One of the steepest downturns in the stock market. Hoarding of basic supplies. Schools closing and going to remote instruction. Restaurants going to take-out only service. Restrictions of the number of people gathering together. These are just some of the startling developments that have happened in less than a month, many of them in the last week! It would be impossible not to feel the stress, the loss, and even the fear of the moment in history in which we find ourselves. So what crazy person came up with a sermon entitled “Not Afraid?”

And yet, I think there are good reasons not to be afraid. The most important of them is our faith that no matter what happens, God is with us, supporting us with his love and mercy and grace. I think that’s the lesson of our Scripture reading from Psalm 23. It presents us with the image of God as “my” shepherd. In that role, God is the one who leads us all individually beside still waters and makes us lie down in green pastures. God is the one who directs our paths in the right way, simply because it pleases him to do so. God is the one who protects us with his “rod and staff” even in the most frightening situations. God is the one who prepares a lavish banquet and makes us the guests of honor.

All of these images reinforce the declaration that “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The images come together to bring calm and peace to us as we imagine what it might be like to lie down in green pastures, and to rest beside still waters. Or as we imagine his constant presence protecting us even in the darkest of valleys. Or the joy and refreshment of sitting down to a meal of all our favorite “comfort foods,” prepared just for us.

One of the important details of the Psalm is that the assurance it promises is based not just on personal experience, but on what God has done in the lives of his people in the past. This is especially true for the people of Israel. From the Exodus out of Egypt to the Wilderness wanderings to settling the land “flowing with milk and honey,” God continually protected and provided for his people. And so they could say, “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”^{^[2]}

More than that, I believe God takes great pleasure in caring for us in this way.^{^[3]} Some providers and protectors do so out of obligation or duty. God does so out of grace, out of love, out of his determination to be “God-who-is-with-us” and “God-who-is-for-us.” Of course, we see this grace and mercy of God most clearly in Jesus, who declared himself to be our “Good Shepherd.”

All of these images in the Psalm reinforce the promise that God is with us always, in whatever situation we may find ourselves. The God who watches over us is the one who constantly cares for and nurtures all creation—galaxies and nebulae we have never even seen; the sun, moon, and stars; plants, animals, rocks and trees; and people of every size, shape, and color. If God delights in caring for all of that, I think we can trust that God delights in caring for us. And so we can be “not afraid,” because “the Lord is my shepherd.”

[2] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 117-19.

[3] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 2.1:74-75.

Saturday, February 08, 2020

Deep Darkness

Isaiah 9:1-7; Matthew 4:12-23[1]

Most of us who have any experience with life know that hardship comes to us all. We all have our share of suffering. It may appear that some are spared that common lot of humanity, but the reality is that everyone carries some kind of burden. But there is one kind of suffering many of us have never known: systemic injustice. That’s what people experience when they don’t have opportunities, or they aren’t treated fairly, or their rights as human beings are denied them. And it happens not because of anything they have done wrong, but simply because of who they are: their gender, their race, their ethnic background, their faith. I think it may be difficult, if not impossible, for many of us even to imagine what that’s like. I know it is for me.

But make no mistake about it: there is oppression all around us. Working people who simply don’t make enough money live in their cars with their families, or in worse conditions out of sight of most of us. Young women are abducted and made into slaves by human traffickers. Students whose whole lives are ahead of them become convinced that they have nothing to live for, in part because of the constant pressure. And people who don’t happen to be of European descent are judged to be suspicious and even dangerous by those of us who are, simply because of the color of their skin or the country of their origin, not based on the quality of their character. We live in a land of deep darkness!

The prophet Isaiah spoke of Judea as a “land of deep darkness.” His people faced threats all around them—most immediately from the northern kingdom of Israel and their allies in Syria. But more significantly at home their leaders—kings and priests and prophets alike—ignored God’s justice and ruled the people based on their own self-interest. And the end result was that the people lived under the yoke of oppression. They lived in a world where might made right. The wealthy and powerful were the ones who called the shots. On a whim they could have anyone thrown into prison without any kind of fair trial. Rather than looking forward to their “day in court,” the most likely outcome was that would simply be forgotten, left to rot and die. They lived in a land of deep darkness.

But Isaiah did not face this darkness with the resignation of despair. He saw a light on the horizon. He knew that God is above all faithful to his people. He also believed that God had promised to send one who would lift the burden of oppression and the yoke of bondage from his people, just as God had once before done for the Jewish people enslaved in Egypt. Unfortunately, in our day we have missed the point of this promise. Like many Christians before us, we cannot read this passage without thinking of Christmas, and the birth of Jesus. Now I will be among the first to agree that Isaiah’s beautiful poetry is a fitting description of Jesus and his ministry. But speaking 700 years before Jesus was born, it’s unlikely that Isaiah was thinking in the first place about Jesus. He had in mind someone who would deliver the Jewish people from the oppression they suffered in his day. He was looking for light that would help those living in darkness at that time.

While we may not be able to know whom Isaiah had in mind when he first spoke these words, we can certainly know what he had in mind. The “light” that Isaiah saw shining in his land of deep darkness was the coming true peace and true justice to his people. They would be delivered from their oppressors and set free from their chains. And the end result would be that they could live and thrive and rejoice like people gathering an abundant harvest. They would live without the fear of violence or the fear of injustice or the fear of the heartless cruelty that could at any moment strip them of all they held dear. They would be free. And the hope of that freedom was a light shining for them in the midst of the deep darkness they had endured.

Again, I have to say that many of us cannot even begin to imagine living in this situation. And yet, right now, right here in this community, there are people who live in that kind of darkness. As hard as it is to admit it, a part of the story of the founding of our society is about violence and systematic injustice that persists to this day. [2] Many believed they had a God-given right to take the land from the nations who were here before us. They justified that blatant injustice with an ideology that they were “savages.” And that ideology was applied to Africans who were enslaved against their will. And to people of other ethnic backgrounds who came to this land seeking freedom. And in our time we see it in the way we can still assume that those who are different from us are suspicious and possibly dangerous. Whether we see it or not, whether we want to admit it or not, we still live in a land of deep darkness

What does our faith offer us in the face of such overwhelming suffering? The light of hope. We have the hope that one day God’s name will be hallowed on earth as it is in heaven and God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven and God’s “fair, merciful, and loving” purpose will be done on earth as it is in heaven! And that means a day when all cruelty is undone and all violence is banished and all injustice is removed. In the face of the darkness that can be very deep indeed for many in our world today, we have the hope that “the zeal of the Lord of hosts” will continue to bring light into our world, until there is no more darkness. But in order for us to experience God’s freedom and light, we have to first acknowledge the darkness that still affects those whose voices we have long ignored.

[2] Among other sources, these thoughts are in part based on an interview of Brian Stevenson by Terry Gross on “Fresh Air,” January 20, 2020.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

Part of the Solution

Part of the Solution[1]

It’s not hard to see that our country, our communities, and even our families are deeply divided by social and political issues facing us. Many cultural observers say that we are more divided now than we were during the 1960’s, which saw the civil rights movement, the women’s rights movement, and the Vietnam War. Some even suggest we may be as divided as we were during the Civil War. A wise friend of mine once noted that we don’t have States seceding from Union. But, of course, the division isn’t across State lines. It crosses cities and towns, congregations and families.

There are also many who are trying to find a way for us to come together again as a nation, as communities, and as families. I was listening to someone the other day, and he talked about the way compassion and generosity can help. Compassion is the ability to see things from another person’s point of view. Compassion understands that they have hearts like us, and they have minds like us.

Generosity is a quality that relates to many aspects of life. But when it comes to approaching what divides us, generosity can also be helpful. When we approach someone with generosity, we acknowledge that they are human beings just as capable of happiness and love and goodness as we are, no matter what their opinions may be. Generosity enables us to give those who hold different views the benefit of the doubt.

Unfortunately, we don’t typically respond to those with whom we may have strong disagreements with compassion and generosity. We’re much more likely to react with anger, which often serves as a mask for fear or hurt. We’re also much more likely to insist that we’re in the right and “they” are in the wrong. This leads us to point the finger at those with whom we disagree and blame them for the problems in our society.

If, however, we can learn to respond with compassion and generosity, rather than reacting with fear and blame, it can change the whole situation. Instead of getting angry we can simply recognize that we have a difference of opinion. Rather than attacking the “others” out of our own discomfort, we can remain calm and try to understand their point of view.

When that happens, rather than pointing the finger of blame, perhaps we can ask ourselves how the disagreement we may have with others can motivate us to find our “better selves,” and to “love our neighbors as ourselves.” Perhaps then, instead of arguing angrily, we can learn to listen to one another, to respect one another, and to seek to serve the common good in this way. Hopefully then we can refrain from the attitudes that create the divide and become part of the solution.

Thanks, and I wish you peace and joy!

Pastor Alan

The Waking Dreamer