To Whom Shall We Go?

 

Pentecost 12b, August 23, 2009 (John 6:56-69) with Ephesians 6:10-20 in the b.g.

 

I speak today of a mystery, so grand, so awesome, that even the most intelligent human beings are incapable of explaining or understanding it. Yet at the same time this mystery is offered freely to all from the oldest to the youngest, the richest to the poorest, the most learned to the illiterate. This mystery, this most awesome of gifts is given by God that all may have life and have it in its fullest measure – with God, with others and with creation.

 

How can I, a person with limited mind, failing memory, whom you have you heard speak again and again speak to you in ways that you may hear of this great mystery, this wonder?

 

In faith and hope, I attempt to speak of this mystery employing two stories.

 

A woman, my friend tells a bit of her story. For many years she left the church. Her marriage had failed. More proximate to truth – her marriage had been horrible. I don't know all the painful details. Even of the ones she has shared, I do not tell them here – as if we might hunger to hear of her pain and struggle. But I do know this. Accompanying everything that occurred in her marriage she felt at least 2 realities for a long time: firstly, that she was not willing to forgive her husband for all that he had done to her and her young child; secondly she had failed in her marriage vows and therefore at least at some level was not acceptable to God.

 

That faith community, which in the formative years of her life, even up until her early 20's had been an integral part of shaping her identity, part of a larger whole to which she belonged, she had now abandoned. To see the full picture, we must also admit this. That faith community had also abandoned her. Rarely did anyone call to check on her, to offer any assistance to she and her daughter.

 

So it was for 10 a long time. She knew both pain and growth in that time. One day, by God's grace, she was in conversation with an older person, one who lived with a deep natural sense of who she was, a child of God, one who daily needed to be blessed by God's forgiveness and strength – and who received both as a gift. That one said something like this to my friend: "Your marriage vows are broken. Yet in the midst of that brokenness, loss and death, don't you believe that there can be new life for you, new beginnings with God and with others?"

 

My friend listened. She thought about that. Eventually it was like a light went on, not only in her head, but throughout her being. She IS STILL GOD'S CHILD, loved, forgiven. She could be – at times she could see that she had been guided by God. Now, she intentionally began anew her life. One of those "new" ways was that she returned to Church – to receiving the Sacrament at the table of the Lord, to hearing the WORD proclaimed. She came regularly, joyfully, in anticipation of what she would hear, receive and be able to give.

 

The man, also one whom I am privileged to call friend, lives his story. He is an excellent provider for his family. He is respected in his community. Yet, he struggles. When I first met him, I learned after awhile that though he came to worship virtually every week he rarely if ever came to Communion. One day I carefully broached the subject with him. He told me that once "quite a while ago",  he had been standing in line waiting to go to the communion table, when someone sitting hear the front of the church had said something to him like this, "Why was HE going to Communion? He wasn't good enough!" And ever since that day, he hadn't received the Sacrament.

 

He admitted that he wanted to come. But he was unsure and afraid. "Afraid of what?" I asked. Well he might get near the front of the church and not be able to go all the way to the front. He might get close and then bolt for the door. "So", I offered, "At least you would be 100 feet closer than last week". He smiled sardonically and replied, "But what would people think and say about me then?"

 

That was a number of years ago. Today my friend rarely goes to church. I suspect that he hasn't received communion in years. I also happen to know that he struggles deeply in many of his relationships, misunderstanding, misconstruing what others say to him and think about him. He feels deeply criticized, when often the others are offering nothing more than offhand comments or honest questions. Indeed having a relationship with him is often like walking on egg shells. I ache with him, for him and with a number of people like me who struggle to love him.

 

Am I then saying then that coming regularly to receive the Lord's Supper, even to hear the Word proclaimed will mean that your life will automatically get better and better and be easy? NO! Receiving our Lord's presence in the Sacrament, even hearing God's Word proclaimed in music and reading, in preaching is not some bit of magic, that someone else does to us and then alla kazaam, we are done. God is not a magician or a genie.

 

But hear Christ as proclaimed in John's Gospel: "I am the living bread  that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh."

 

Christ gives of Himself out of love for the world. He offers Himself for us so that we can have new life – with God, with others, with creation.

 

I shouldn't need to tell you that our world is a broken place. We know such brokenness in our relationships – between husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, children and parents. Elder abuse and child abuse are pain-filled realities. Nor is the Church innocent in such matters. Within congregations, within denominations, between denominations there is so much anger, hurt, separation. Creation itself continues to groan: fires scorch and consume the earth and her creatures; water shortages reach unprecedented levels. In the production of "goods" we also produce toxins that kill us.  Indeed, entire nations are torn apart by war and poverty – Iraq, the Sudan, Israel and Palestine, Haiti to name a few.

 

In the midst of all this Christ gives Himself, emptying Himself so that there may be healing – between ourselves and God, between ourselves and others, between ourselves and the rest of creation. In His love and sacrifice we may become keenly aware of our deep brokenness. But in and through Him lights can also go on and change occur. By God's grace we can move forward regardless of what others think or say. We are not alone. Jesus calls us to follow Him – even though it is risky, dangerous, involving all kinds of "costs" to us.

 

Will we follow Him? Dare we? Many are not interested. They want proof not any kind of trust. They want to be able to calculate costs. They may even desire the path of least resistance. Sometimes we are with them.

 

Ah, but what are the costs to not following? To get as much as we can and hoard it jealously? What has that is that already "costing" us?  To trust only that which we can understand, analyze, figure out will definitely impoverish us on many levels! There would be no love and no sacrifice, not even any birthing pains. How poor would we then be?

 

Christ asked Peter and the other 11, if they too would leave following him, because it was difficult. Peter supposedly responds by asking Jesus a rhetorical question we do so well to hear: "Lord, to whom should we go, YOU HAVE THE WORDS OF ETERNAL LIFE.

 

Ah yes, to whom will we go? Whom are we following?

 

Lord, we believe. Help our unbelief. Move us to follow you – to new beginnings, whatever the cost, knowing that though the way be difficult and unknown, you still are leading! Amen.