Sunday,
December 11, 2016
Advent 3
Isaiah 25:1-10; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11
John the
Baptist probably did not expect it to turn out this way. As someone who lived for God, labored
endlessly for the love of God, sought to do God’s will……and here he is…..in
prison! His life is at risk. He doesn’t know what the future holds, but it does
not look good.
So, of
course, he begins to doubt….and to question….calling out to Jesus: Are you the
One? Wondering if it has all gone wrong because he put his trust in the wrong
person.
I can relate
to John the Baptist today. I have often
found myself calling out to God and asking: God, why did you call me to the
priesthood at this time, when Christianity finds itself at the edges of so many
people’s lives? Why me? Why now? And I call out to Jesus: Why, Lord, why did you call me here---to
these wonderful people who have to face great change? These wonderful, faithful people who are now
being called to relocate so that generations to come will be able to be a part
of this ongoing Intercession Episcopal community. Surely, Jesus, a change like this requires a
priest with years of experience, a priest with specialized leadership skills.
Am I the One, Lord, the One to lead, to equip this blessed community to do this
work?
Perhaps some
of you can relate to John the Baptist today.
Our expectations of what is going to happen and what actually unfolds
are often at complete odds with each other.
Listening to our national discourse, it is clear that many Americans are
doubting and questioning our way forward as a people…….listening to people’s
stories each week, I hear many tales of doubt, of questioning…. stories of a
person’s health hanging in the balance due to illness or injury. Sometimes life
hands us a situation where our way of
life seems to be in danger of disappearing. We’ve lost a job. Or a loved
one. Or a relationship. Changes have
taken place in ways and routines we know, and those changes discombobulate us and
we can no longer see the way forward. We feel like life has lost meaning.
We find
ourselves wandering….in the wilderness….hungry and thirsty…..longing for
something, we may not even be sure of the something, but we would certainly
like it to be different than the reality that surrounds us.
Today Isaiah
proclaims: “Be strong, do not fear! Here
is your God…A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way;…it
shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.”
We often
think that if we are on the “Holy Way,” we will know it with certainty because
it will feel “right and good.” My
experience is that often when I have taken the time to discern God’s will, when
I have been patient and listened, the Holy Spirit does indeed provide a path, a
highway, for me to take. All too often,
it is a path I do not want to take. And when I finally take those tremulous
first steps and move forward onto the path in faith, I find it to be difficult,
costly, and uncomfortable. Usually it doesn’t
feel “good;” it usually feels inconvenient and challenging. And, like John, I begin to question and
doubt. Now, don’t get me wrong, the
Spirit does send goodness along the way, as well, and affirmations, grace….but
the going of it, the walking of the Way….is painful.
In order to
follow God’s call to the priesthood, Murray and I had to leave our jobs, which
we had both held for over 15 years, and we sold the house our children grew up
in, and we left behind the community who knew and loved us……all to get on that
“highway,” that “Holy Way,” and let me tell you……it felt quite horrible.
Even though
I was pretty certain (probably more certain than Murray) that we were doing
what God was asking of us, that we were choosing a path that would lead us to
living more fully as the people God was calling us to be, the leaving of the
world as we knew it was heart-wrenching.
I was excited to go to seminary at Sewanee, excited to begin my studies,
and I could envision possibilities with hope, but I bawled like a baby when I
left the school and auditorium where I had been a teacher and director for 16
years. Our last night in our house was
spent with my heart aching and uncertainty that I, that we, could really do
this.
The three
years at Sewanee held many new relationships and joys and graces, but we knew
it wasn’t lasting. That at the end of the
three years we would move again, and here it is, just over 8 years since we
left De Pere, and there are still elements of our life before seminary that I
mourn:
· My friends with whom I taught and laughed and
shared life with for 16 years
· Our St. Anne’s faith family and the spaces in
that church building which brought me peace
· Our neighborhood, our neighbors, the grocery
store I loved
· Going to high school football games where I
knew most of the people, including the players
We were so blessed, we Johnsons. We had a lovely home, a great church,
wonderful jobs; our kids were loved and supported by so many people. So much
goodness. It was the whole of our
lives---all the rich wonderfulness of it.
And we left it all. We sold, gave away,
packed up all our history together and moved out. To follow God’s lead, to answer God’s
call. But at great cost. With tremendous
loss that is sometimes still felt as a pinprick of sorrow.
And we have survived. And flourished. And
grown. And have been so, so very blessed.
With new relationships, a lovely home, an incredible faith community,
new spaces and places which bring us peace and joy. The path before us often unfolded step by
step---neither Murray nor I could see the end at the beginning. Well, honestly, we do not see the end now
either. We do not even necessarily see
the next rest stop before we leave this rest stop. But we have learned that we do not need to
see more than the next step. We know God
goes before us, determining the path, laying each next step. And we know we do
not go alone. We walk with other
pilgrims, and God is here. If we are
willing to call out, reach out, and trust that God keeps God’s promise to be
here, go with us, then we cannot be lost.
We cannot go too far astray, not if we take heart, believe, have faith,
and respond to the call.
Right now when the Christian church is
struggling and recognizing it must forge a new way forward if it wants to
remain a Holy Way for people to come for generations, right now when so many
people in our nation are feeling doubt and questioning and fear and responding
with divisive words and actions, right now when this beautiful faith community
of Intercession Episcopal is being called to relocate—to join with other
pilgrims who are the same and yet different---- I hear God answering some of my
questions: Why me? Why the priesthood? Why here—to these people?
I may not have years and years of experience
of being a priest; I may not have highly specialized leadership skills. But I do have the experience to say to you
with confidence and faith, trust and joy:
We can leave, we can move forward, we can let go and make
sacrifices---great sacrifices, and survive. Not only survive, but thrive,
flourish, and strengthen. Oh, it will
change us, of that there is no doubt.
But as we walk with God on this journey, inviting the Holy Spirit onto
every brick of the path, God’s job is to restore, to redeem, to realign our
steps so that we are not lost nor go astray.
God’s promise is that even on this wilderness pilgrimage we will taste
everlasting joy. That even in the
desert, our thirst will be quenched and we are being restored.
A priest’s role is to empower and equip God’s
people to do God’s work in the world. Doing God’s work in the world is a pretty
hard gig sometimes. Laying aside your
life for others---which is the Holy Way, the highway we are called to
walk----may indeed be holy, but it is also just plain hard. And challenging.
And uncomfortable.
But, oh, beloved---the richness of it. The
wonderfulness of it as God empowers us to do what we once thought was
impossible or improbable. We cannot wait
until it feels “right” or until we can see the whole of the path before us or
until we want to do it. God calls us
now. There is work to be done, the work
of building and creating new relationships, new beloved communities of God, of
healing the broken and the wounded. Joining
with fellow pilgrims so that many others can taste and see God’s love and
grace. As the first verse of the ninth chapter of the book of Judith reads:
“For your strength does not depend on numbers, nor your might on the powerful.
But you are the God of the lowly, helper of the oppressed, upholder of the
weak, protector of the forsaken, Savior of those without hope.
“Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God;” “All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.”
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