Monday, December 5, 2011

Sermon October 16, 2011
Exodus 33:12-23, Psalm 99
1 Thessalonians 1:1-10, Matthew 22:15-22
“Willing Relationship”
Recently, I had a conversation about why it is that people attend church. What is that we want that makes us decide to attend church? Not just this church, not just this congregation, but the general question about why people go and/or do not go to church. Consider that. Some folks,come because it is one of the few times in a week where they find a sense of relationship and friendship in a church. Some even endure worship services and Bible classes that are uncomfortable just to be with other people. Yet when folks choose church over some other place where people gather, there is likely to be another more spiritual or sacred longing or desire or connection to be made. So the deeper question is why do we seek out a relationship with God? Are we looking for a place where we can be a member or are we truly looking for a place to be in relationship with the living God?

Most people have times when we express a deeper desire to connect with sacred presence. Whether or not we really come to church expecting God's presence—the awe of the Creator's power, the movement of the Holy Spirit, the touch of Jesus Christ—we at least realize that the sacred presence might be there. And if we come expecting, looking for and really willing to experience God—we may really notice when it happens. 

In today's scripture from the book of Exodus, we hear from the continuing story about God's redemption of the people of Israel from slavery in Egypt. This week's conversation between Moses and God occurs shortly after they created an idol to worship, as we read last week. God has just told Moses and the people that God's promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob will be fulfilled—they will have the Promised Land and God will make it safe for them. The promise will be met in its bare minimum. Angels will lead them, but God has had enough. At the end of this command to leave Sinai and go to Canaan God finishes, “I will not go up among you, or I would consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people.”

The people were distraught because of God's anger at them. They mourned their actions, but God recognized something in them—a weakness we share—they would always want to do things their way and still try to be God's people. They were scared to move without the assurance of God's presence; and they were reluctant to trust God when they didn't completely understand where it was that God was leading them.

They had this vision of a wonderful place, a place flowing with milk and honey. And they had heard of this place, it was also filled with Canaanites, Amorites, Hittites, Perizzites Hivites and Jebusites. The promise was great, they were happy to be given a land—and yet they came from a land occupied by their enemy, the Egyptians. What make Moses and Aaron and all the others so sure the Canaanites, etc. would be any different?

They may have been certain and hopeful about many things, but the doubts still plagued them. The vision was one of settled prosperity and abundance, but how would they get there from the a life of slavery and then one of nomadic wandering? What steps did they have to take, literally and figuratively to go from a nation of slaves to a people who were to reveal God to all nations and peoples?

Sometimes the place where God wants us to be, someday and eventually is easy to see. God wants us to lives lives in line with Jesus Christ and to be his disciples; we are called to follow Jesus and care for the sick, free the oppressed, be eyes for the blind, voices for the voiceless. We follow Jesus by doing God's will and clothing the naked, visiting the prisoner and feeding the hungry. See Matthew 25. And while the vision might be wonderful, the vision is a journey that must include the blind, voiceless, naked, prisoners and the hungry. There is no vision otherwise.

We make fits and starts—we take tiny steps toward the vision and goal. And sometimes we lose the will—we don't necessarily wonder if God is with us anymore, but we might still be a little concerned about how much of a lead God has taken—is God too far away to be paying attention to me? Or to us?

Sometimes it feels that way. God's leading is sure and God's leading is a mystery because we can't always see it clearly. And because God is God and we are not, God's leading will always be outside of our ability to completely understand.

In my own life, I've had conversations with friends and family about my certainties in my faith. I have no doubt that God loves me and that God is there.

And in my times of doubt and struggle I remind myself that I have chosen or willed to be in a relationship with God. I have to remind myself that I have to pay attention, too. And not just to pay attention to God in ways that I expect, but to realize that God can come to me in almost any way. After all, Jesus reminds us in today's gospel that though our money, too, is stamped with images of historical political figures—we, each and every one of us, are made in the image of the ever lasting and eternal God. And when we are disciples of Jesus Christ, we have chosen to be faithful to that image by following Jesus example, carrying his image, too.

So, we have chosen to acknowledge that we carry the image of God in our selves, deep within us. And we choose, too, not just to be members of a church that carries Jesus' name, but to be disciples of Jesus Christ—we also make other choices to be faithful to that discipleship, to follow the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Moses, the God of Jesus Christ in whom God is revealed. So we can look in these scriptures for the faith that is revealed there—and practice living in that faith.

We know that Moses spent time with God, face to face, like none other since Abraham. He had those same kinds of conversations—genuine talks. He argued and cajoled and begged for God's presence and mercy. And God argued with him, too. They weren't distant friends. They spent time together. Like a marriage or friendship, they couldn't just leave their relationship to chance—it took effort and attention.

When Moses' life was chosen to be the one to carry God's salvation to the Hebrew people his journey of relationship with God began. And God called him—yet God had to argue with him. Moses wondered why God chose him—he claimed not to be much of a public speaker and he was a murderer. He felt injustice deeply within himself, but didn't have much else going for him. But he chose to connect with this God and in today's scripture that same kind of relationship continues.

Moses looked at what God was doing—God said that the promise God had made would be kept, but only at the bare minimum. God's presence would be removed—they would get the land and nothing else for their disloyalty and idolatry. But Moses knew that there had to be more. Moses appealed to the love that God had for him. And through him, the love that Moses knew God felt for this weak people and through them there was always the love God had for all of humanity and all of creation. The promise had always been deeper than a land, deeper than a great nation and deeper than numerous descendants for Abraham. God's covenant was grounded upon God's will to be in relationship with human beings—from the beginning of time.

Moses argued that God's affection and love meant God's presence—perhaps this is God's way of revealing this dimension of God's person. God said, “I'm going to leave you alone and not lead you anymore.” Moses said, “I think know what you really want and the only way that will happen is if you stay with us and really follow when you lead.” God said, “What I really want right now is to let go of my pain and sorrow at their betrayal and just blow them away and start all over.” Moses said, “I think know what you really want and that means leading me and all of us through this time of immaturity so that they can learn from this experience and so that we can see that you love us more than we love you or ourselves.” God said, “You think right, I do love you and you do please me. You are right. I will lead you and stay with you. And I love you so much, I'll even show myself to you as I've never done before. It will be dangerous and scary, but I will do it.” And so God did. Moses hid in a crack in the side of the mountain and he felt God move past him and saw the reflected glory of God as God moved a distance away.

God's willingness to be in relationship with Israel and all humanity wasn't just a matter of Moses' bargain with God—but the bargain and the argument and the cajoling, pleading and difficulty was part of the relationship. I wouldn't say that God manipulated, but that God saw that Moses and the people had to work through the journey to recognize God's work in it.

We can learn from their story—and learn that we often have to learn the same lessons they learned. We may not be wandering in the same wilderness, but we feel just as lost and leaderless sometimes. We know we want God's presence, but we want someone to mediate it for us and figure it out because God is a little too much. God's a little unpredictable and the ways that God reveals God's self are unexpected.

And . . . if God reveals God's self that way and we are made in God's image and have chosen to carry in ourselves the image of God that Jesus revealed to us—what does that mean for us?

An ordinary woman once lived in a small town near Modesto, California. She was not famous, powerful, or influential, . . . yet people tell this story about her. She was known as a good neighbor. She was friendly and good to her family. When the U.S. entered WWII she supported the government, until California Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren signed an order requiring all U.S. citizens of Japanese ancestry to be interned in relocation camps. The nation was overwhelmed by fear and California was especially vulnerable to that fear because of the number of Japanese Americans that lived there. Only one official church body protested this order—the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).

Many of her neighbors were Japanese Americans. She knew and loved them. They didn't just live near one another—they were a part of one another's lives. She lobbied in California. She wrote to the president of the U.S. to try and stop the camps. She could not make the rich and powerful listen, but she did something else. She went to her friends and she bought all the Japanese Americans' homes and farms for one dollar each and watched her friends be taken. When the camps closed, when the Japanese who had survived the camps had no homes left because their homes and farms were seized, her friends were lucky. She gave her friends back their homes and their farms—so that they could live. 1


Most of us try and live morally and ethically in our limited ways avoiding the big shalt nots. Yet discipleship of Jesus Christ—this life we have chosen is more than membership in an organization that bears the name of Christ. We must be willing to cajole and beg and plead with God—and so learn what and who we are to be as we are led. And we must be willing to be cajoled, begged, moved and angered and so be moved by God to know God and God in Jesus Christ more intimately every day.


And so we search for what we truly want and give our lives to God because that's what we truly need. And we stay in relationship—with God and with one another. We take the time and the time with God grows us and develops us slowly, with tiny baby steps that take time and effort into the people we are made to be. And one each step, we choose God and God chooses us.

To God's glory and in God's incredible grace. Amen.




1
“A good neighbor,” Rita Nakashima Brock, Proper 24, Resources for Preaching and Worship Year A, Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild, 260.

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