Proper 8
Lamentations
3.22-33
Psalm
30
2
Corinthians 8.7-15
Mark
5.21-43
Prayer of Invocation
Father, you have built your
Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself
being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their
teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus
Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God,
for ever and ever. Amen.
Prayer of Illumination
Lord, we rise to meet you this morning. Meet us
where we are at with your word, that we may hope in you, trust in you, and bear
witness to your faithfulness and goodness; in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Proclamation
When I became a Christian and started reading
the Bible for the first time I was struck by what the Bible was not. It was not
what I expected it to be, what I had hoped it would be. I must admit that I was
disappointed and a bit perplexed at how the Word of God presented itself to me.
It was not organized in chapters with readily accessible themes such as “how to
deal with anger”, or “how to have a successful life”, or “how to be happy”, or
“how to overcome adversity”, or “how to be a better person”. This was how all
the self-help books I had read were organized. What was nice about those books
is that I didn’t have to read the whole thing, I could just go to the
chapter and theme I was interested in, get my principles and action steps, and
then roll up my sleeves and do the work of putting the helpful information into
practice.
But as I began to read the Bible, I came to see
that the Bible didn’t work like that. God does not choose to reveal himself to
us in this way--as a life hack; God does not choose to shape us in this way.
Instead, Scripture invites us into stories and experiences of others who in one
sense have nothing to do with you or me: Paul’s letters to the Corinthians;
Israel's Psalms of thanksgiving, lament, and remembrance to YHWH; four
biographies about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and his dealing
with self-righteous religious people and social outcasts who often understand better
than his disciples who Jesus is and what he has come to do; prophets like
Isaiah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Malachi confronting a people that I do not
belong to, calling them to repent and to trust again in the Lord. Within these
smaller stories, the Bible tells us one big stories about the creation of the
world, the pattern of human rebellion, and the election of Abraham as God’s
solution to the universal problem of our world. It tells us stories about God
tabernacling with his people in the wilderness and making a way for him to dwell
with them in the midst of their rebellion and doubt; it tells us stories about
barrenness, exile, despair over the meaning of life, and lament because the
world is not as it ought to be. There are no doubt places where we find lists
of things to do or not do, places where we can find some wise sayings about how
to live (or how not to live) in this world. But these are definitely not the
bulk of what we find in the Scriptures, and they are always surrounded by
stories, and are embedded in the bigger story of Israel’s call to trust in God
in the midst of a world that often looks like it is spinning out of control—like
God is out of control. And within these complex stories embedded within the one
big story of God’s dealings with the world through Israel, I was often shocked
to find many experiences of doubt, grief, rage, frustration, confusion, and
angst at the many disappointments in life, at the mysteries of death,
suffering, illness, and even unpredictability of prosperity and
happiness.
As we attend to the texts for us this morning, I
am reminded of this way in which God speaks to us--by inviting us into his
dealings with others; by teaching us to learn how to trust him through the
doubts, despair, pain, suffering, and abundance of others. Our four texts this
morning invite us into four very distinct human experiences--but ones we all
face in the course of our lives. God speaks to us by encouraging us to learn
from the experience of others, to enter into their grief, pain, thanksgiving,
praise, trust, doubt, rebellion, suffering, and deliverance even if this may
not be what we are experiencing in our own lives at the moment. This is one of
the ways that God fosters trust and hope, by asking us to learn his story--the
way in which he has faithfully interacted with others in the past.
In Psalm 30, for example, we are reminded
that God hears our prayers, our cries for deliverance, and answers us when we
are in the pit. Psalm 30 reminds us that God is responsive to our needs; God is
faithful to his promises and will not let our foes have the last word over us.
God heals (Psa 30.2). And David celebrates this (Ps 30.1-3) and then turns his
attention to the people of God, to us, exhorting us to do the same when
we are in the midst of affliction and despair:
“Sing praises to the LORD, O you his saints and
give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor
is life (Psa 30.4-5).
With mourning comes morning (Psa 30.5). Darkness
is overcome by the breaking in of the dawn. David recounts and celebrates the
way in which God has answered his prayers, takes the time to thank God for
deliverance, then exhorts others to do the same. As we are called into this
experience of David, we are reminded to do the same: to pray, to make our
requests known; to hope and trust in God, and to wait for his deliverance.
David bears witness to this: God hears, responds, and heals. Some of us come
this morning with similar experiences as David: we have tasted and seen the
deliverance of God--God’s gracious and faithful response.
Lamentations 3.22-33 is all about waiting too. But it centers us on
someone who has yet to find deliverance; someone who is still in the midst of
crying out, waiting for God’s response. Lamentations is made up of five poems
that grieve over the destruction of Jerusalem and the utter destruction of the
life of the people of God because of their consistent and unrelenting rebellion
against God’s word. The author acknowledges that the suffering and chaos of his
world is a result of sin, trespass, and rebellion--both by him as well as by
those whom he shares life with. At the center of these five laments, he
confesses that his endurance has perished and so has his hope (Lam 3.18). But
suddenly, in the midst of his despair, he calls to mind his reason for hope in
the midst of his weariness:
“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases”
(Lam 3.22). Or, we could translate this “Because of the steadfast love of the
LORD, we are not cut off.”
Here our author also recounts how mourning is
overcome by morning: God’s mercies are new every morning; great is his
faithfulness (Lam 3.23). He recalls that God is good to those who wait for
him--even those who have willingly rebelled against him. For, he remembers,
that the Lord will not cast off forever because he will have compassion according
to the abundance of his steadfast love. “For he does not afflict from his heart
or grieve the children of men (Lam 3.33). This could also be translated “he is
not predisposed to afflict or grieve his people” (NET).
Maybe this is where you are this morning?
Grieving over the effects of sin--yours or perhaps that of others; lamenting
the situation you are in that is the result of rebellion--yours or someone
else’s. Lamentations encourages us to face God in the midst of this; it
encourages us to NOT withdraw, to not remain silent, to NOT allow our grief and
frustration and pain and suffering because of sin to keep us from moving toward
God. No, Lamentations invites us to move toward God in the midst of our
despair, confusion, and weariness--to seek him out and to wait for him, for he
will not cut us off; he will meet our circumstance with steadfast love and
faithfulness. There is reason to hope even if we can’t see a way out.
Our Gospel reading in Mark 4.21-43 draws
us into the lives of two women who have been cut off. A twelve year old girl
has been ultimately cut off by death; and a ceremonially unclean woman has been
cut off from the temple and life with God’s people because of twelve years of
menstrual bleeding. Both are healed because of faith, a turning to God, a
moving towards God in the midst of despair. The twelve year old daughter is
healed (literally ‘saved’) through the faith of another, her father. The woman
who has suffered bleeding for twelve years is healed (literally ‘saved’)
because she moved towards Jesus in her despair, daring to touch Jesus. In both
cases, it is Jesus’ life (and not their impurity) that is contagious. Jesus
touches them, and they are made well again (literally ‘saved’). Saving, healing
faith involves taking a risk; it involves revealing your vulnerability; it
involves working your way through the crowds, overcoming shame, putting your
reputation on the line so that you might touch Jesus and be healed. And
sometimes, it is the faith of another that brings the healing. This is the
beauty of gathering together each Sunday. Sometimes we have to believe for one
another; sometimes our doubt, weakness, confusion, and sickness are healed as
we are carried by the faith of others who enable us to be touched by Jesus.
Sometimes we are like the daughter who is healed by the faith of her father;
sometimes we are like the paralytic who is healed because of the faithfulness
of his four friends. And sometimes we are the father or the four friends who
gather to express trust and hope on behalf of others who can’t.
This is the subtle point that Paul is making in 2
Corinthians 8.7-15. He reminds us that the church is the means by which God
heals and provides for those in need. Those of us who find ourselves in a state
of abundance and prosperity, those of us who enjoy the favor of the Lord, are
called to leverage that provision of God for the sake of others in the family.
Christ was rich, and yet for our sake he became poor, so that by his poverty we
might become rich. When we receive blessings from God, whether it is health,
good relationships, wealth, these are all given that we might supply the needs
of others. Paul likens it to manna in the wilderness, sharing our daily bread
with those who are not able to gather as much (2 Cor 8.15). If God has given
you a dependable income, a loving spouse, a strong church community, a reliable
group of friends, those gifts are not just for you. They are to equip you to
reach out and draw in those who are hurting, lost, in despair, confused, and
searching. God is giving you the opportunity to bring hope to others, to bear
witness to the fact that God is real and trustworthy. When we gather, we get to
put flesh and bones on the message of hope and healing that we proclaim. We who
have received the abundance of God’s favor must be prepared to minister to all
kinds of refugees--those who are made so in a literal way by climate
disruption, violence and war, social upheaval, lawlessness and economic
collapse; and those who are made refugees (lit. those without a home) by the
brokenness and rebellion of our age that leave us cut off with no place to call
home in any permanent way. We are not in a culture war, rather we have been
enlisted in a rescue mission that is “won” through radical, divine hospitality![1]
[1] adapted from Nancy Pearcy, Love Thy Body, 264
Eucharist
And here, at this Table is where we are reminded
of all these things: God’s steadfast love, his faithfulness, his abundance, his
radical hospitality. Here we are reminded that God is responsive to our
greatest need. Here we see the faithfulness of another that serves to heal us.
Here is where we go to touch Jesus, to move towards him in our doubt,
confusion, despair, pain, and suffering. And here is where we come to bear
witness to others that “our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and
righteousness.” Here is where we strengthen the faith of others who struggle to
believe, as we bear witness to our hope in Jesus. Here is where we function as the
father or the four friends.
Benediction
The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make his face to shine upon you and be
gracious to you;
The LORD lift up his countenance upon you and
give you peace.
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