The Cost

 

It never fails.  Start any kind of major renovation project – either at home or here at the church – and unexpected and expensive problems crop up.  In the midst of the construction of our Christian Education wing in the mid 1960’s, workers uncovered the need to replace or repair 23 floor joists under the Parish Hall.  In today’s dollars, this work added an additional $65,000 to a project already stretching our congregation’s financial resources. 

The single best leadership decision made by warden Tom Coxe was to organize a crew last summer to take down several feet of drywall in the kitchen in order to find out what was going on behind it.  While I don’t know if he had Jesus’ specific words in mind to estimate the cost of building a tower before you start construction, Tom certainly embraces the wisdom of it.  Once the drywall was down we discovered significant structural issues the Vestry refused to let go unaddressed.  What we hoped would be a $50,000 project, grew in scope to $170,000.  Expensive, yes, but at least we knew the cost going in.

In today’s gospel reading Jesus is not giving construction advice nor is he lecturing on methods of engaging war.  He uses two very common experiences, each requiring preparation and forethought, to convey something important about the Christian faith.  “Be aware from the outset following me is going to cost you.  Don’t jump into this only to be surprised.”

Perhaps he is looking right at James and John when he requires his followers to “hate” their families.  You will remember after teaching on the shores of Galilee Jesus calls these two brothers to follow him.  They drop their nets, leave their father Zebedee and his fishing enterprise, and follow.  Old Zeb could not have been too happy with their decision.  They don’t “hate” their father, but they do subjugate their allegiance and duty to him and in order to make Jesus their Lord.  This comes at a cost.  Jesus describes it as “picking up your own cross” in order to follow him.

By the time Luke sets out to write his gospel, the first generation of Jesus’ followers know there is a price to be paid.  Forsaking your family’s religious heritage carries with it now the potential for imprisonment or death.  It holds the possibility of being ostracized by the local community and shut off from economic opportunity.  These conditions still exist in some parts of our world today.

We here at St. Paul’s Church on Main Street in downtown Suffolk have it a bit easier in comparison.  Still, we ask a lot of you if you want to follow Jesus by being a part of our faith community: 

§ We ask you to wake up on Sunday morning and attend a service. 

§ We ask you to give your time; perhaps to teach, or to prepare food, or to sing, or to help on the Altar Guild, or to volunteer in the Food Pantry, or – worst of all – to serve on the Vestry. 

§ We ask you to contribute financially without offering the caveat Jesus will repay ten-fold for what you give him.  The money you give to our church is money you cannot use to purchase something you want or to save for the future. 

§ We ask you to support one another; praying for others when they are in need, attending special events in their lives, taking food when they are sick, and listening with an open heart to their cares and concerns. 

§ We ask you to lead a moral and exemplary life.  You cannot act one way when you are here and another when you are not.

§ We ask you to endure hypocritical behavior, to extend forgiveness, and to initiate the difficult process of reconciliation when you are in a broken relationship. 

§ We ask you to respect the dignity of every human being and will challenge your every prejudice and preconceived notion not befitting this high standard.

§ We ask you to ground your allegiance to one another in our common faith, not shared political opinions or rooting interest in college football.

§ We ask you to renounce your love for worldly things like material possessions, power, and a focus on youth and appearance.

Have I got your attention yet? 

The writer Annie Dillard once observed if we really listened to the words of scripture and the liturgy that fills this place every Sunday, and if we took seriously what they call us to do, than ushers wouldn’t hand out bulletins, they would pass out crash helmets.  If we took the words at face value Dillard says the pews would have safety belts rather than cushions.  I think she is on to something important.

We don’t do real service to Jesus or to the Christian faith when we minimize what it requires of us.  Jesus does not try to package his teachings in an attractive, persuasive offer.  He does not provide a catchy “five ways your life will be better if you follow me” polished list.  In today’s reading he talks only about the cost and demands his audience take it into consideration before signing on.

In some ways the call to the Christian faith is similar to the allure of climbing a lofty mountain.  From a distance we behold its majesty and its beauty and wonder if it can be scaled.  As we look at it a question within arises: am I up to the task?  Do I have what it takes to climb it?  Depending on the height, the cost and the risk of the undertaking can be enormous, but neither of these factors diminishes the value of the journey or the reward of summiting.

Jesus invites us to follow him, but first he insists we must count the cost.  Perhaps our journey with him will mirror his own.  He picked up his cross and was crucified on it.  Hopefully our journey with him will be far less hazardous.  This one thing he does promise: our journey with him will lead us to new life in this life and to a glorious resurrection like his own in the life to come.

...of Yourself Less

Billy Graham tells a story about a time early in his ministry when he arrived in a small town where he was scheduled to peach at an evening service.  Before heading to the church he wanted to put a letter in the mail, but had no idea how to find the post office.  He happened upon a boy and asked for directions, which the child provided with great clarity.  Then Graham said to him, “Why don’t you come by the Baptist Church tonight because I’m going to be telling everyone how to get to heaven.”  “Heaven,” smirked the boy, “How you gonna tell ‘em how to get to heaven when you don’t even know the way to the post office!”

Life does have a way of keeping us humble.

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Luke we encounter one of Jesus’ better known teachings: “When invited to a banquet, don’t sit at the place of honor lest you be asked to move down.  Rather, sit at the lowest place and receive honor from the host when you are asked to move up.”  I suspect even people who don’t know much of the bible know something about this teaching.  It is very clear and concrete.  It is easy to identify with the humiliation of a person asked to move aside.  It is thrilling to contemplate how it might feel to be asked to move forward.  It is possible to reduce this parable to little more than proper etiquette; simply a strategic maneuver to avoid humiliation and disgrace.

Jesus’ second teaching is not nearly as well known… or followed.  “When you give a meal, don’t invite friends or relatives or rich neighbors – the people who can reciprocate.  Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  You will be blessed because they cannot repay you.”

Paired together, these teachings challenge us to cultivate a certain disposition in life.  They call for selflessness and a focus on others.  They invite us not to consider a person based on what he or she can do for us, but rather to engage each person you meet wondering what you can do for them.  The single word the bible uses to name this disposition is humility.

The best definition of humility I know comes from C.S. Lewis’ classic work Mere Christianity.  He held, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it is thinking of yourself less.”  I like that.  It helps frame today’s teachings in a way that makes sense.  It means you are not to be focused solely on promoting yourself and thus naturally do not sit at the position of honor unless so invited.  It means you use what you have to serve those who have not.  Being humble means you invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame to your banquet.  Being humble does not mean when they say it is the best food they have ever eaten, you respond by saying, “Oh, please, I am a terrible cook.”

I suspect most people consider humility to be the opposite of arrogance, pride, boastfulness, insolence, and being self-absorbed.  We don’t care much for braggarts or for those who exaggerate their own importance.  In today’s “Notice Me” culture, we dinosaurs of a time long ago wish people had just a tad more modesty, which is a derivative of humility.

I also suspect some of us who are trying to cultivate humility equate it with being self-effacing.  We act as if Jesus’ wants us to minimize our contribution and to demean our gifts and good qualities.  We take it to mean we should shrug off every compliment and renounce every recognition that comes our way.

Humility is not thinking less of yourself.  It is thinking of yourself less in order to focus on something else.  But focus on what?  The bible answers this in two obvious ways.  First, focus on God.  Phillip Brooks once preached, “The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is.”  Brooks suggests we are to be all we can be and do all we can do.  God created you to be you and it is up to you to be you to the best of your ability.  The servant with the one talent who buried it, then gave it back to his master was not humble.  He was rebuked for wasting his life.  Our faith calls us to stand at our real height and to measure ourselves against the greatness of God.

Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, “As long as you are proud you cannot know God.  A proud man is always looking down on thing and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down you cannot see something that is above you.”  Hopefully the mere act of coming to this place week in and week out, the observance of the ritual, being attentive to the reading of God’s word, saying the creeds and offering our prayers changes our perspective.  If you look up long enough never again will you be able to look down, only around.

Which leads to the second thing the bible teaches about humility: focus on others.  Gordon Hinkley said, “Being humble means recognizing that we are not on earth to see how important we can become, but to see how much difference we can make in the lives of others.”  Isn’t this what we admire most about the people in our lives… not so much what they have accomplished, but how they have served.  Sometimes the person possessing the most impressive résumé is the last person you want to hire, because he or she cares little for others.  

The last thing I want to say is humility is a lifelong work in progress.  It is not a threshold we achieve but a destination toward which we walk.  There is no better reminder of this than something I came across recently called The Prayer of an Anonymous Abbess:

Lord, thou knowest better than myself that I am growing older and will soon be old.  Keep me from becoming too talkative, and especially from the unfortunate habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and at every opportunity.

Release me from the idea that I must straighten out other peoples’ affairs.  With my immense treasure of experience and wisdom, it seems a pity not to let everybody partake of it.  But thou knowest, Lord, that in the end I will need a few friends.

Keep me from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.

Grant me the patience to listen to the complaints of others; help me to endure them with charity.  But seal my lips on my own aches and pains -- they increase with the increasing years and my inclination to recount them is also increasing.

I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn’t agree with that of others.  Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.

Keep me reasonably gentle.  I do not have the ambition to become a saint -- it is so hard to live with some of them -- but a harsh old person is one of the devil’s masterpieces.

Make me sympathetic without being sentimental, helpful but not bossy.  Let me discover merits where I had not expected them, and talents in people whom I had not thought to possess any.  And, Lord, give me the grace to tell them so.

Amen.

Oneg Shabbat

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
with an enormous love,
and only wants
to look upon you
with that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.

This poem, Let your God Love You by the English writer Edwina Gateley, is a beautiful reminder of why we are here; of why we set aside one day each week to come into God’s presence in the company of God’s people.  It reminds us how this day is an oneg shabbat – Hebrew for a “delightful Sabbath”.

The image of this glorious possibility comes to us from today’s reading from Isaiah: “If you call the Sabbath a delight…”  The “if” hints at conditions.  Isaiah’s prophetic message about the Sabbath contains plenty of “ifs”.  Each if points to something the people should be doing, but are not.  Some historical background will help us understand the passage a little better.

This reading comes from a time after the exiles have been freed from Babylon and returned to Jerusalem.  They have set themselves to rebuilding the walls of city under the leadership of Nehemiah and to rebuilding the Temple under the direction of Ezra.  The work is hard and rift with challenges.  Still, progress is being made.  It was a time of great pride and optimism.  There is something very satisfying about seeing the work of your hands produce something tangible, something necessary, and something significant on a daily basis. 

From the perspective of politics and economics things look good.  But prophets like Isaiah focus on the spiritual and in this realm, in his estimation, something is lacking.  By all outward appearances things are fine.  People are attentive to the Sabbath.  They fast.  They pray.  They follow the rules for a proper observance of the day.  What, then, is the problem?  What is Isaiah harping about?

Perhaps you will like this little piece called No Excuse Sunday (author unknown):

To make it possible for everyone to attend church next Sunday, we are going to have a special “No Excuse Sunday”.

Cots will be placed in the foyer for those who say, “Sunday is my only day to sleep in.”

There will be a special section with lounge chairs who feel our pews are too hard.

Eye drops will be available for those with tired eyes from watching T.V. late Saturday night.

We will have steel helmets for those who say “The roof would cave in if I ever came to church.”

Blankets will be furnished for those who think the church is too cold and fans for those who say it is too hot.

Score cards will be available for those who wish to list the hypocrites present.

Relatives and friends will be in attendance for those who can’t go to church and cook dinner, too.

We will distribute “Stamp Out Stewardship” buttons for those who feel the church is always asking for money.

One section will be devoted to trees and grass for those who like to seek God in nature.

Doctors and nurses will be in attendance for those who plan to be sick on Sunday.

The sanctuary will be decorated with both Christmas poinsettias and Easter lilies for those who never have seen the church without them.

We will provide hearing aids for those who can’t hear the preacher and cotton for those who say he is to loud.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy seeing the pews full as much as anyone, but being here and keeping an oneg shabbat are not one in the same.  The churches in Isaiah’s day were packed, but full does not necessarily mean following.

How far from following are the people of Isaiah’s day?  Listen to the prophet’s message contained in the verses just prior to today’s reading:

Why do we fast, but you do not see?

Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?

Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,

and oppress all your workers.

Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight

and to strike with a wicked fist.

Such fasting as you do today

will not make your voice heard on high.

Will you call this a fast,

a day acceptable to the Lord?

The outward signs are all there, Isaiah says, but they ring hollow.  Each person is focused on self-alone.  In the prophet’s eyes they are not in right relationship with one another.  They quarrel and fight.  They are indifferent to the plight of the hungry and apathetic about those who are not being treated fairly by the system.  They don’t pay their workers what they are worth. 

Speaking for God, Isaiah holds up the prerequisite for an oneg shabbat:

Is not this the fast that I choose: 

to loose the bonds of injustice,

to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them,

and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

If you do this, if you carry oneg shabbat into every aspect of your life, then, says Isaiah, we as a people will be a light in the darkness; gloom will be replaced with the brightness of the mid-day sun.  Focus on one another, Isaiah says, and God will provide for us and make us strong.  Our walls and our Temple will be rebuilt and will stand for generations to come.

Given the words of Isaiah, today’s gospel reading has a parable-like quality to it.  Yes, Jesus sets aside the Sabbath to worship, but it never comes at the expense of human compassion.  The…

God loves you
with an enormous love,
and only wants
to look upon you
with that love...

is an invitation to embrace God’s love so that you can embody God’s love in your relationships with others. 

Jesus does this when he notices one of the most unnoticeable people in the community, a woman bent over and crippled.  He tells her she is set free from her ailment and lays his hands on her.  With this, eighteen years of suffering comes to an end.  The leader of the synagogue, a person who surely would have been at home worshipping with the people of Isaiah’s day, becomes indignant because Jesus healed a person on the Sabbath; something he considered to be “work”, which was forbidden on this day.  Jesus, through his words and deeds, demonstrates how compassion is an integral feature of the Sabbath, not a desecration of it.

Some Jewish synagogues in our day give the name Oneg Shabbat to their fellowship hour after the service.  It is a time to delight in the company of others.  There is an old story about Bernie, a weekly attender at synagogue who told anyone who would listen he did not believe in God.  One day a new, young rabbi came to the synagogue and engaged Bernie in a conversation about faith.  “I don’t believe in God,” Bernie told him.  “If you want to talk with a person who believes in God, go over there and talk to Herman.  He comes here every week to be with God.”  “Well,” the rabbi asked, “why do you come every week if you don’t believe in God?”  “I come,” Bernie said, “to be with my friend Herman.” 

While not exactly an exemplar of the faith, I think Isaiah and Jesus would applaud Bernie and lift up his example for others to consider.  Yes, God desires you to come here seeking the deep, healing, renewing experience Edwina Gateley describes in her poem Let your God Love You.  Surely the unnamed woman in today’s gospel reading experienced God’s incredible love first hand that day in the synagogue.  But Isaiah reminds us to look around as we approach God.  Who is here?  Who is with you?  Who is outside the door?  Whose lives have you touched this week?  Did your touch replicate the touch you seek to receive from God in this place, at this time?  Delight in this Sabbath day and live it throughout the week.

Jeremiah - the Prophet not the Bullfrog

In spite of what we children of the 70’s may think, Jeremiah was not a bullfrog.  He was chosen by God at birth to be a prophet and called to this ministry while just a youth.  His career spanned the reign of five different kings.  It began during a time of national and spiritual revival and endured the untimely death of the reforming king.  He cried out against a return to evil ways, warned of Jerusalem’s destruction, survived the devastation inflicted by the Babylonian army, suffered through the exile, and eventually preached a message of hope and restoration. 

Most books of the prophets tell us much about the prophet’s message, but precious little about their lives.  This is not so with Jeremiah.  We read about how he was imprisoned, threatened with death, violently beaten, thrown into a cistern, placed in stocks, interred in a dungeon, persecuted by family members, and confronted by false prophets – kind of pales the challenge of working with a difficult Vestry.  God forbade Jeremiah to marry, have children, or foster friendships.  He lived a lonely life.  Coupled with his dismal message and the events of his day, Jeremiah had as difficult a life and ministry as is imaginable and yet remained faithful.

In today’s reading he challenges the message of other prophets claiming they are speaking only their own dreams while his words are faithful to God’s word.  God’s word to Jeremiah includes the following:

  God’s people have broken their covenant with God by forsaking God and making material things (called idols) the object of their heart’s desire.  

  God’s people have polluted their faith by mixing it with the practices and beliefs of Baal worship, going so far as to offer child sacrifices to this pagan deity.

  God’s people have fallen into persistent sin which manifests itself through pride, lack of gratitude for all God gives, adultery, oppressing foreigners, insufficient concern for widows and orphans, lying, slandering others, and ignoring the Sabbath.   

For these and other offenses God announces to Jeremiah invaders from the north (the Babylonian army) are being sent to destroy Jerusalem and take captives into exile. 

I hold God’s laws not to be arbitrary.  God did not set up a dartboard at the beginning of creation with fifty spaces on it, throw ten darts, and come up with random commandments to put on tablets.  The sins Jeremiah identifies are offensive to God because they are destructive to human community and flourishing.  God’s people are doing more than turning away from God.  They are embracing practices harmful to themselves and to others.  An invading army does more than destroy their society.  It saves them from themselves by paving the way for new and healthier possibilities.

Jeremiah says the other prophets are speaking dreams they claim to be God’s, but their intention is to get people to focus on them rather than on God.  Their dreams are self-serving.  Their dreams are not God’s dream.  Can there be a more important question in our time than this: “What is God’s dream for the world?”  As we approach the 15^th Anniversary of 9/11 and as we sift through the political rhetoric of a presidential campaign, I have been thinking more and more about God’s dream for us.  What is it?  Who speaks for it?  Who shows it to us?  Like the question of Thomas to Jesus, “How can we know the way?” 

A good number of you have asked me what I think about the upcoming presidential election.  You don’t ask because you want to know whom you should vote for or whom I am voting for.  You ask because you are concerned, worried, anxious, and deeply troubled by the choices.  You can’t vote for either major candidate and are mystified and appalled that it has come down to these two people.

John Pavlovitz is a pastor in Raleigh who posts on a very thoughtful blog site called Stuff that Needs to be Said.  Earlier in the week he wrote this:

This election season is an X-ray, revealing something about the core of who we are.  It is illuminating the insidious Cancer that we find ourselves presently afflicted with.  It is showing the anger and racism and homophobia, and most of all the toxic fear embedded deep within the marrow of America.

35 percent of this country doesn’t care how ignorant of the issues Donald Trump is, how untruthful he is, or how low he stoops—none of that matters… 

This all isn’t the fault of one dangerous person.  It isn’t the fault of those 35 percent who support his cause.  No, 100 percent of us need to own this because we’ve all played our part.

We have become this frightened, this angry, this vulnerable, this divided—together.

Churches, politicians, corporate America, public servants, working folks; ordinary people of every color, creed, and persuasion—we’ve all had our hand in it.  This has been created on our watch.

No matter what happens in November, this is where we are now.  This is who we are now.

This is the country we’ve all built together, and this is what we’ll have to deal with together.

Yes, we should be afraid and embarrassed and disgusted right now.

But don’t look at Donald Trump, America—look in the mirror.

This is our mess.

Pavlovitz identifies something very important in our reading from Jeremiah.  The dreams of the false prophets only get traction when they speak to actual hopes and dreams.  The people of Jeremiah’s day would not have fallen for them or fallen down before them if they didn’t portray a reality they craved.  Neither do we in our day.  We are where we are because we have not wondered what God’s dream for the world might look like and when we have wondered we have found it to be not as appealing our own dreams.

I think it is in this context we can make sense of Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading.  As we turn away from God’s dream and as we engage in behavior destructive to ourselves, Jesus responds not with kindness, but with fire.  He brings not peace, but division.  Those who seek after God’s dream and attempt to live into it will be as foreigners, sometimes even in their own family.   

When God first called Jeremiah God told him this: “Behold, I have put my words in your mouth.  See, I have this day set you over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out and to pull down, to destroy and to throw down.”  Jeremiah has been very faithful in doing this to the best of his ability.  But God told him something else.  God said, “I am putting my words in your mouth and setting you over nations and kingdoms to build and to plant”.  For God, it was not enough to have a prophet who would point out all that was wrong.  God needed a prophet to point to what is good, to what can bring life, and to what can bring flourishing for all.

What Jeremiah sought to build up from the ruins and what he intended to plant was a message of hope and possibility:

  He taught God would bring a remnant back to Judah to rebuild Jerusalem and the temple.

  He said God would raise up a descendant of David to serve God and guide God’s people.

  He proclaimed God would reunite the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel so there might be a unified Kingdom of God.

  He promised God would heal the spiritual wounds of the people and restore the covenant.

We in the Christian tradition hold Jesus is the embodiment of Jeremiah’s hope.  We build with him and we plant with him because we find in him what God’s dream for all people looks like. 

Today’s reading from Hebrews lists a number of figures from the original covenant who looked to God in faith and hoped for a better day.  And then, in another one of those verses I had to memorize as a youth, writes: 

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

The ‘therefore’ tells us this is the summery point of all the author has laid out before.  Because of all this… do the following: Lay aside sin.  Persevere.  Look to Jesus always.  Follow his example.

We are living in what feels like a weighty time.  My sense as we approach the 15^th Anniversary of 9/11 is many of us are contemplative.  We are wondering what we have done right as a nation and as a human family.  We are wondering what we have done wrong.  And we are wondering how we should move forward.  Today’s reading from Jeremiah reminds us how seductive some dreams can be and it reminds us how challenging it can be to get back on the path God has laid for us to walk.  I don’t know how real change – God’s dream – can begin other than it has to begin with me.  And it has to begin with you.

Wavering Faith

One of my favorite bible verses is found in the Book of Jeremiah, chapter 29, verse 11:

“I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for welfare and not calamity, to give you a future and a hope.”

It has instilled in me a belief that a generous God has a purpose for my life.  Even in the midst of difficulties and disappointments it fosters in me a sense I can trust in the goodness of life and be hopeful about what is to come.  At the core of who I am this is the essence of what I would call “my faith.”  It is not very complicated, really.  It is grounded in an idea and determines everything about how I live my life on a day-to-day basis.

This morning we read about Abraham – the bible’s exemplar of faith.  The Lord comes to him in a vision and says, “Do not be afraid.”  God seeks to dispel three fears.  The first is a fear of God: “Do not be afraid of Me!”  The second is a fear based on present circumstances: “I am your shield.”  The third is fear of what might happen in the future: “Your reward will be great.”  It is the third fear which vexes Abraham most.  He says to God, “It doesn’t matter what you will give me because I am childless.”  God promises Abraham’s descendants will be more numerous than the stars.  Abraham believes him.  He will move forward grounding his life on this promise. 

One biblical scholar states Abraham demonstrates his faith by trusting enough in the future God has planned that he quits trying to control the present.  This may be what faith looks like, but it is not exactly a picture of who Abraham is… at least not all the time.  Thirteen years will pass before old Abe and even older Sarah will be blessed with a son.  In the mean time, at different times, they will become impatient or anxious or puzzled and will hatch different plans to “control their present”.   

Harry Emerson Fosdick, the great preacher of the early 20^th Century, said this:

There are “three sorts of folk.  There are the utter disbelievers.  They will have none of religion.  It is to them superstition and credulity, and God is as much a myth as the devils of an African witch doctor.  But there are not many such.  There are the great believers, who have grown up into a luminous and convincing life with God like St. Theresa who said that in her heart she had an experience so beautiful that one drop of it, falling on hell, would turn it into Paradise.  But there are not many such.  Between these two groups are the masses of people.  They are not utter disbelievers and they are not glorious believers.  Their faith is hesitant, uncertain, unsatisfying, sporadic.  ‘Lord,’ they say, ‘I believe; help my unbelief.’”

I place myself firmly in the company of the masses.  At times, my faith in God’s plan for my well-being is hesitant, uncertain, unsatisfying, and sporadic.  I know I am not alone.  I sense most of you are with me.  Abraham is with us too. 

If faith looks like trusting enough in the future God promises to quit trying to control the present, then what does the opposite look like?  What does a lack of faith look like?  It can manifest itself in the classic form of worry or anxiety.  If God promises welfare, then worrying about what is to come is an expression of doubt. 

There is a more subtle way faithlessness reveals itself.  Doubting the welfare God plans can manifest itself through efforts to create what you think your welfare should look like.  “I will determine what is best for me and I will make it happen.”  Every self-destructive behavior is rooted in this single idea.  “I do not like where I am and I have no faith in where I am headed, so I will – you fill in the blank here: over-work, over-eat, over-drink, over-shop, self-medicate, become promiscuous…” 

Doubting in God’s promise for the future also can look like negativity about today.  Do you know someone who is always critical, for whom nothing is ever good enough?  Do you know a person for whom the glass is always half empty and the half that is there always tastes awful?  Do you ever find yourself thinking these kinds of thoughts?  They are signs your faith in God’s promised future is wavering. 

However, these are not signs you are a bad person.  They point to the simple truth that you are human.  We live with the tension of what God promises and what we experience.  Faith can be a challenge and along with death and taxes there is another certainty: if you have faith there will come a time when it will be tested.  

A sailor survived a shipwreck and washed up on the shore of a small, uninhabited island.  He prayed zealously for God to rescue him, but day after day passed and no help came.  As time went by he managed to collect enough driftwood to build a shelter that afforded him some protection against the elements.  One day he returned from scavenging for supplies and discovered his hut in flames with smoke billowing high into the sky.  Everything he had worked for was lost.  His faith in God was shattered and he cried out in anger, “How could you let this happen to me?  Why don’t you answer my prayers?”  He fell asleep that night on the beach, feeling as low as at any point in his life.  He was awaken early the morning by the sound of a ship’s horn.  How did they know he was there?  They saw the smoke from the shelter’s fire and decided to investigate.

We all get discouraged when things are not going our way.  It is so easy to lose heart, to get down, and to feel sorry for ourselves.  And there are times when no one can blame us for getting angry at God for the way things are.  When you are in a place like this always remember God’s promise to Abraham was not conditional in Abraham having an unwavering faith.  God’s promises rests in God alone.  There may be a time when your hut is on fire and you have reached the end of your rope.  Having faith in God’s goodness will be the last thing on your mind.  But God’s promise to you still holds, even if you can’t hold on to it at that moment. 

Jesus’ language in today’s reading from the gospel, with all of its be ready and stay alert imagery, hints at how easy it is to lose heart and to lose faith.  His message is basic: Get back in the game of life.  Do what you must do to right yourself.  Pray.  Worship.  Do something to help someone else.  God came to Abraham in a vision when he was childless.  You may not like where you are right now.  You may not like what looks to be in store for you down the road, but Jesus promises he will come to you and he promises his promise is will happen.

“I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans for welfare and not calamity, to give you a future and a hope.”