The Rev. Peter M. Carey
Sermon at Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
23 October 2011
Comings and goings. Beginnings and Endings. Birth and death. Gains and losses.
Our lives are full of them. Just when we think things are moving quite well, that the status quo is a pretty good thing, we encounter a bump in the road, a twist of fate, a rough patch. Just when we think we have a handle on something, a new challenge emerges. Remember when you were young, and you moved your way through elementary school, and you reached the top grade in your school? You were the big dogs. You were the ones that others had to look up to? And then, you moved on to Junior High, or Middle School, and all of a sudden, you were at the bottom again. And then this pattern happened over and over. You were the top in the band, and then you were moved up to High School Band. You were the captain of your team, and then you were moved to Varsity. You were All-State, and then you were “riding the pine” at college.
It continues in our lives, we get comfortable, we get to thinking that we have a handle on things, and then the handles change, and we have trouble holding on. Recently I was reminded by a wise mentor that we are often moved by God into places and spaces that are over our heads. We like to think that we move from one place to another while relying on our strengths and gifts, and that our acquisition of “skill sets” will lead us to new challenges that we are prepared for.
Alas, we are most often NOT prepared for what we are about to be confronted with. Who is really prepared for parenting? Who is really prepared for a new job? Who is really prepared for that new stage in our lives? Who is really prepared to say goodbye?
We gain experience, and we gain skills, but most often we are pushed beyond our “comfort zones,” and we are put into positions in which we are over our heads. So, where to turn? What might these situations be teaching us? Where do we turn in these situations?
If you think you might have it bad, just think about the Israelites. They had labored through 40 years in the wilderness under the strong and wise leadership of Moses. Moses, who had seen God “face to face” back when he was walking along and a burning bush started talking to him. Moses had seen God “face to face” and was the only person ever to see God in this way, and live. Not only that, Moses had ascended the Mount, to return with the Law of God in the form of the 10 commandments. Moses had actually spent time talking with God, and was most definitely a “man of God” and, even, perhaps a “friend of God,” or at least about as close as a person could ever be a friend of God.
Well, as bad as it had gotten out there in the wilderness, God was still with his people, and the most sure sign of God’s presence was that Moses lead the people with a firm hand, a compassionate heart, and a strong will – while also doing it with what he claimed himself was not a gift of speech.
But now, now Moses was dying. Moses could see the Promised Land toward which they had travelled all these many years, but he would not go there, and though he was 120 years old, God would not grant him any more years, and not even a few more days to live to see the Promised Land. Just when the people were finally being given the goal toward which they had worked all these many years, they were losing their guide, their leader, their mentor, their wise and strong captain along the way. How would they go on at this point?
Here we see that God is moving the people to a place in which they are over their heads. The leadership and wisdom of Moses would not be replaced, it couldn’t be. Moses was the only one who would “see God face to face,” and his leadership was one of a kind. However, the true guide, the true leader, the true captain in the journey, of course, was not Moses – even as great as he was – but the true guide is God.
Here, the people, these wandering, intermittently holy people of God, were hopefully reminded that their journey does not rest on Moses’ goodness, or his holiness, or his unique experience of God. Their journey rests in God’s hands, and God’s promises precede any work by Moses, and God’s promises are deeper than any presence of Moses among the people.
It is a hard reality to remember, that when things are going well, we often, ironically, find ourselves put into situations that test us not at our points of strength, but at our points of weakness. This is a kind of humility that is not mere rhetorical modesty. “Oh, I am not so good at that.” Rather, this humility is the humility where we are driven to the place where we cannot any longer rely on our experience, our skills, and our strengths. We are brought to a place where true prayer begins – we are brought to a place where we truly ask for God’s help. For we cannot do it ourselves. Often, we can rely on a kind of functional atheism, for we believe (most of the hours of the day) that success depends on our effort. However, our lives are full of times when we are pushed to the place where we cry out, “help.” The place where true prayer begins.
The Israelites had lost their earthly guide, but were pushed into the “deep water” where they had to find not only inner strength, but had to turn, ultimately, to God in order to find the strength to go on.
It helps now and then to step back and take a long view. The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a small fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about: We plant the seeds that will one day grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it well. It may be incomplete but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Archbishop Oscar Arnulfo Romero of El Salvador (1917–1980)
