Sometimes, Truth Hurts, But Then It Heals
Jeremiah 2:5
Thus says the LORD: What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?
Ouch.
To hear God speak so harshly hurts. This is not the image of God we want or need. This is not the source of hope and comfort we seek as we straggle into worship on Sunday morning.
No, most of us are more than ready for the praise team to lift us from the doldrums. We want the preacher to encourage us. We want the sermon to tell us in soothing terms that all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
With the world as it is, we really do need comfort and reassurance. We need to hear the good news of great joy even as we close the books on summer--the Christmas angels could warm a few hearts here on the brink of Labor Day.
But...
There does come the inescapable recognition that if the world is going to change, someone has to take the lead, assume the responsibility, and engage in the work of transformation so desperately necessary to alter the way the world is. Yes, God is in charge, as are the promises of God for all the earth to become the kingdom, but God seeks us human beings to become the implements of the new creation.
Alison and I are settling into a new neighborhood. Right now, it is still very much a company of strangers. But we are beginning to meet the people nearby. Alison met one kind soul as she took off for a bike ride, but got about 300 yards from home, and her chain came off due to a bent derailleur. He knew nothing of bikes, but offered her tools and help. Our next door neighbor is an elderly Yugoslav--and, yes, he still uses the old designation--who chats with our dog through the fence. Banana bread became an introduction between the humans. Simple acts that help us find the right things to focus upon.
In our churches, we can begin to work for this transformation, letting go of the worthless things to find the things that make us worthwhile as an institution. I say this not as harsh criticism, but simply as a call to accept the transforming presence of Christ with us. As the church settles on the fringes of society, becoming a sidebar to most folks' lives, there is a tendency for us to become insular. Visitors are exceptions, so we focus on the people present. Then, when a visitor appears, it is almost as if they are invisible. In part, it happens because we don't want to make a fuss--no one wants unwanted attention. But it is also in part because we no longer automatically move to welcome because we are out of practice. Practice. It does not take much to find it's still in our collective bones.
The thing of it is that the more we accept God's challenge to us as we are, we find that the things we seek are not that far from us.
As neighbors come to know neighbors, the company strangers becomes more a company of friends. As congregations keep eyes, hearts, and arms open, they find people hungry for what we have to offer.
As that happens, we find that peace, serenity, and a solace for our collective angst begins to fade. We see the light of hope rise over us.
Then we gain the courage to do the real work of transformation. Instead of seeking to hide away inside ourselves, we find we are ready to engage with the world around us. We find the necessary platform from which to make the reach toward someone or somewhere we might nut normally go.
In other words, the mission trip to South America becomes the mission trip to 16th Street in downtown where there is a host of hungry people needing to be fed. We need both to see God's great sweep of humanity and it informs us of who we are and who we can be.
And that is actually very good news for a world like ours.
Thus says the LORD: What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me, and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?
Ouch.
To hear God speak so harshly hurts. This is not the image of God we want or need. This is not the source of hope and comfort we seek as we straggle into worship on Sunday morning.
No, most of us are more than ready for the praise team to lift us from the doldrums. We want the preacher to encourage us. We want the sermon to tell us in soothing terms that all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
With the world as it is, we really do need comfort and reassurance. We need to hear the good news of great joy even as we close the books on summer--the Christmas angels could warm a few hearts here on the brink of Labor Day.
But...
There does come the inescapable recognition that if the world is going to change, someone has to take the lead, assume the responsibility, and engage in the work of transformation so desperately necessary to alter the way the world is. Yes, God is in charge, as are the promises of God for all the earth to become the kingdom, but God seeks us human beings to become the implements of the new creation.
Alison and I are settling into a new neighborhood. Right now, it is still very much a company of strangers. But we are beginning to meet the people nearby. Alison met one kind soul as she took off for a bike ride, but got about 300 yards from home, and her chain came off due to a bent derailleur. He knew nothing of bikes, but offered her tools and help. Our next door neighbor is an elderly Yugoslav--and, yes, he still uses the old designation--who chats with our dog through the fence. Banana bread became an introduction between the humans. Simple acts that help us find the right things to focus upon.
In our churches, we can begin to work for this transformation, letting go of the worthless things to find the things that make us worthwhile as an institution. I say this not as harsh criticism, but simply as a call to accept the transforming presence of Christ with us. As the church settles on the fringes of society, becoming a sidebar to most folks' lives, there is a tendency for us to become insular. Visitors are exceptions, so we focus on the people present. Then, when a visitor appears, it is almost as if they are invisible. In part, it happens because we don't want to make a fuss--no one wants unwanted attention. But it is also in part because we no longer automatically move to welcome because we are out of practice. Practice. It does not take much to find it's still in our collective bones.
The thing of it is that the more we accept God's challenge to us as we are, we find that the things we seek are not that far from us.
As neighbors come to know neighbors, the company strangers becomes more a company of friends. As congregations keep eyes, hearts, and arms open, they find people hungry for what we have to offer.
As that happens, we find that peace, serenity, and a solace for our collective angst begins to fade. We see the light of hope rise over us.
Then we gain the courage to do the real work of transformation. Instead of seeking to hide away inside ourselves, we find we are ready to engage with the world around us. We find the necessary platform from which to make the reach toward someone or somewhere we might nut normally go.
In other words, the mission trip to South America becomes the mission trip to 16th Street in downtown where there is a host of hungry people needing to be fed. We need both to see God's great sweep of humanity and it informs us of who we are and who we can be.
And that is actually very good news for a world like ours.
Comments
Post a Comment