Sermon for February 27, 2011: Lilies, Sparrows and You.

Matthew 6:24 “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

6:25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?

6:26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?

6:27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?

6:28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin,

6:29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

6:30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you–you of little faith?

6:31 Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’

6:32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.

6:33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

6:34 So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”

I have this recurring dream. Maybe twice a year I dream that I get a letter from my high school. The letter tells me, “You didn’t actually graduate”. It turns out that there was some requirement that I overlooked and the school didn’t catch it until now, and I have to go back. In the dream I argue that I actually have a college and seminary degree now, but they tell me if I don’t finish this high school class those will be rescinded as well. I always wake up panicked and trying to figure out whether or not it really happened.

I’m told it’s not an uncommon dream. Another favorite of mine that a lot of people seem to have is finding out that you have an exam in a class you haven’t been to all semester. And it’s always something like German. Something you can’t even try to fake it on.

When I have dreams like this, I pay attention. Because I know when I have them, it means there is something else going on in my life that I am getting really anxious about.

We are get anxious. It’s part of what it means to be human. We worry about our family. We worry about work. We worry about money. We worry about all the details of our days. And by the end of this sermon, you will still worry about these things. But my hope is that you might worry a little less.

Jesus is still preaching the Sermon on the Mount. He’s been at this for a while now if you’ll recall the last few weeks. And today he is talking about worry and fear and anxiety.

Jesus tells the disciples a few things. First he tells them that they cannot serve two masters. They cannot simultaneously serve God and serve wealth. They cannot set those things as equal and work towards both at the same time. One must take precedence over the other, and Jesus tells us the only choice that makes any sense is God.

Jesus goes on to say don’t worry about what you will eat. Don’t worry about clothing. Don’t worry about what you will drink. Because worrying will not add a single hour onto your life. Instead, trust that God will provide. Trust that the God who takes care of the birds, the God who puts the lilies in the field, will care for you even more.

I think we’re all prone to anxiety. Some of us even more than others.

I was a very anxious kid and that continued as I got older. In high school, I worried about getting into college. In college I worried about getting into seminary. In seminary I worried about getting ordained. And then I worried about what I would do after I was ordained. I spent so much time worrying about the specifics of my future that I often missed the beauty of what was going on around me. I often missed the lilies in the fields, or the birds in the air. And when I finally got to that place I’d been trying so hard to get to, I felt like I had run a marathon.

More of us are like that than we like to admit.
If you are anything like me, you want to know exactly how the future will unfold. You want to know what everything will look like. You want to know that you will have not only everything you need, but everything you want.

When the hospice I was working for had to make cuts, I knew that they would have to cut chaplains. I know I’ve told this story before, but it bears repeating. I was basically prepared. First they cut one chaplain and gave me her territory to cover. And then, one morning, they cut me.

I was pretty terrified. I wasn’t long out of grad school, so I had no real savings to speak of. My transfer to the UCC was still is process so I couldn’t take a church yet. And no other hospices were hiring. Even non-ministry positions were overrun with a glut of applicants. I had no idea what I was going to do.

But I got through the year. And that’s not a testament to my thriftiness or anything like that. That’s a testament to what God was doing in me, and how much I had to learn to trust God. Because the more I learned to trust that God would provide for me, somehow or another, what I needed next, the more I felt my faith deepening. I began to feel God in ways that I never had during that year.

I really do hope I’m never in that situation again. But, in other ways, I’m grateful for having been there. Because as I searched for a call that year, I had a feeling that God was truly guiding me to something I did not yet understand. That God would make a way. That God had a plan and it would be revealed in time. I knew that being laid off would not have the last word. God would.

There is a story of the earliest Christian monks who were in Ireland. They used to build boats and put them on the sea, and then ask God to take the boats to the place they needed to be. They would let God be their navigator, and they would trust that their boats would be safely brought to shore.

While I don’t recommend the same course of action to you, there’s something to be said for that.

There’s something to be said for the idea of putting your boat on a stormy ocean and saying, “okay God…show me where you want me to go.” There’s something to be said about that act of faith in a sea of fear.

What would it mean for you to get in a boat? What would it mean to cast yourself out on the seas and see where God could use you? What would it mean even for our church to get in a boat and let God direct our journey? Would our life together look the same? Look different? I don’t know. But I think it may be worth asking.

I’ll close with this story that I heard about four years ago, and which has become integral to my faith life. I heard it told by a Gene Robinson, a bishop who had faced threats of great violence. He had been called to be a bishop and in the aftermath there had been great division. He had to celebrate worship in some places with a bullet proof vest under his robes because of all the death threats. Yet, his quiet, certain faith was so apparent to all who saw him. He told this story. Some of you have heard me tell it before, but it’s worth telling again.

Robinson talks about the parting of the Red Sea. He recalls the movie “The Ten Commandments” and how in that telling we see the sea parted wide from shore to shore. The Israelites are able to pass through quickly, always knowing they will make it safe to the other side.

Except, he says, it wasn’t really like that. Instead, Robinson argues, the sea only parted a little bit at a time. Someone put their foot in and the waves rolled back just enough for them to put another foot down. And then they did. And the sea retreated a little more. Little by little, step by step, they made their way across the sea. And finally they made it to the other shore. They did not know exactly how things were going to turn out. But they knew that God was with them in the next step.

Jesus tells us not to borrow tomorrow’s trouble. We have enough today. Instead we can pray earnestly and with faith, “Jesus show us the next right step.” And we know that he will. And we know that in God’s love there is always a safe shore waiting for us. Amen.

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