15th Sunday after Pentecost
September 22, 2019
Jeremiah 8:18-9:1; Psalm 56; Luke 16:1-13
I don’t know about your week, but my week was one of
those where by Friday, I started counting. By Friday morning, I was up to 5
doctor visits between me and the kids, 4 church meetings, 2 pastoral visits, 2
community visits, 1 community member helped by the Samaritan Fund, and, most
excitedly, TWO new ministries in the works here at Lisbon. On Tuesday I ate
lunch with SEVEN pastors who serve churches here in the area of western Howard
County and southern Carroll County. We are working on forming a coalition among
us so that we can share our resources and ideas and together better serve our community. For our next gathering, we
even listed 8 more pastors to invite to join us! Then, on Wednesday I met with
Ms. A., the principal at Lisbon Elementary to discuss how the church and
the school can partner together, since we’re next door neighbors. We talked
about a couple obvious ways, like sponsoring a needy family over the holidays
to provide a special meal and gifts for them. But then as the conversation continued,
Ms. A. realized that what would really be a huge help would be for us to
offer childcare during one-time special school events when they really don’t
want parents to bring younger siblings, like when the kindergarteners and 5th
graders make candy houses in December and during 5th grade
graduation in June. We looked into it Thursday morning, and all we have
to do is hold a training for our church members who are interested in helping,
run background checks on anyone working directly with the children, and have
the parents sign a waiver. So, we’re moving forward with it! It’s been a very
full week, although a good week, which is why by Friday morning, I found myself
counting the different things I’d done during the week.
Counting is a theme in our Scriptures this week as well
and we’re going to start with the dishonest counting we just read in Luke.
Jesus told his disciples the parable of the dishonest manager, or sometimes
called the shrewd manager. The truth is he was both dishonest and shrewd; it’s really strange. He was
about to get fired because of his dishonesty, and so he became shrewd so that
when he lost his job, he’d still have some place to go and friends who would
take him in. The manager met with each person who owed his master money and had
them alter their bills so that they didn’t owe as much. In other words, he
forgave their debts. The master heard about it and commended his manager! “Why? Because he knew how to look after
himself.” Jesus in effect says here that “Streetwise people are smarter in this
regard than law-abiding citizens. They are on constant alert, looking for
angles, surviving by their wits. I want you to be smart in the same way—but for
what is right—using every adversity to stimulate you to creative survival, to
concentrate your attention on the bare essentials, so you’ll live, really live,
and not complacently just get by on good behavior.”[1]
Here’s the parallel with us: what we have doesn’t really belong to us, either.
We are stewards, or managers, of our wealth and our property. They belong to
God, and are entrusted to us while we are on this earth. Our stewardship in this
life must be faithful, as in we must use those things rightly and according to
God’s will. Otherwise, why would we be trusted with true riches, which is eternal
life? “If you’re honest in small things, you’ll be honest in big things. If
you’re a crook in small things, you’ll be a crook in big things. If you’re not
honest in small jobs, who will put you in charge of the store?”[2]
The answer is no one. And wealth is not neutral. Either you use what you have
for God’s purposes or you don’t. We can either serve God, or we can serve money. “The way we live now has consequences for how
we experience God’s future. The way
we live, the values we hold, the relationships we form today are vitally
related to God’s future.”[3]
How you count matters. Make sure you do it honestly and faithfully, always
remembering that “all things come of thee, O Lord,” and we are just the
temporary caretakers.
Now, in Jeremiah, the people have been counting honestly,
but not counting money. They’ve been counting the seasons: the springtime
harvest, the dog days of summer, and now it’s fall, but the people are still
hurting. They’ve had a long wait and things have only gotten worse instead of
better. They’re counting until healing comes, and are still counting. It’s
interesting, the verse in Jeremiah is in the form of a question, “Is there no
balm in Gilead?” and the song we just sang answers that question in the
affirmative, “There is a balm in
Gilead to make the wounded whole.” In Jeremiah’s time, there was literally a balm from Gilead; it was
resin from the Styrax tree, for which Gilead was famous. It was used
medicinally and was exported widely. Yet there are times when it feels like
there isn’t a balm, when you’re waiting for things to get better and they don’t. That’s what’s going on here in
Jeremiah. The people are waiting for salvation… and still waiting. And Jeremiah
is hurting with the people. He’s not happy to be proven right about his
prophecy; this prophet loves his people and would have loved to be wrong,
because then it would mean the people would not be suffering. Instead they
suffered through springtime, they suffered through summer, and now it’s fall
and they’re still looking for a
healing balm and restored health. And the prophet weeps with the people. Is
there any balm that might help? They’re still waiting, and counting. “How long,
O Lord?”
Finally,
our psalm today is not the assigned psalm, but one that fits in with counting,
especially when you’re waiting to be healed. It is a psalm of lament. “Have
mercy on me, O God,” that kyrie eleison
from last week, Lord, have mercy. Why? Because people are hounding me, pursuing
me, and oppressing me all day long. All
day, they hurt my cause and plan evil against me. And you know what? It says
people or enemies or flesh, but sometimes what’s hounding us may be a disease,
or genetics, or our past. It may be a mental illness or a mental block of
something. I’ve met a couple women whose mothers died while middle-aged, one at
46 and the other at 63, and for both of those women, it was a huge deal when
they reached that age and lived past it. I have three chronic conditions
myself, one that started in my teens, one in my 20s, and one in my 30s, such
that I find myself wondering what’s going to happen in my 40s, and I turn 40 in
about ten days. But here’s the other thing about this psalm: if you count,
there are more lines focusing on trust in God than on cries for help. And the
turning point in this psalm is the verse I focused on with the children. “You
have kept count of my restless nights. You have collected all my tears in your
bottle. Are they not recorded in your book?”
 |
| Tear drops in a bottle, from www.lovedoesthat.etsy.com |
This isn’t about us counting; this is about God counting. We’re used to the verse
where Jesus says he knows the number of hairs on our head.[4]
This is Jesus saying he knows the number of tears you’ve cried, and hasn’t just
counted them and let them fall where they may, but collected them, and recorded
them. Wow.
Contemporary
Christian group Point of Grace released a song in 1996 called “Keep the Candle
Burning.” The first verse says, “You think you're alone there in your silent
storm/ But I've seen the tears you've cried falling down and trying to drown/
The flame of hope inside.” The reason those tears aren’t actually drowning out
the flame of hope and extinguishing it is because God’s catching them. And not
just wiping them on his pants or a tissue, but putting them in his bottle and
recording each one in his book. That’s how that candle keeps burning. That’s
why a psalm of lament talks more about trust in God than about anything else.
The tears are not lost. Nor do you cry in vain. The thing about psalms of
lament is that they often move us from a past way of being through a profound
disorientation where you don’t know which way is up, and land us on the other
side not the same as before but with a new orientation, a new testimony, a
deeper understanding of God and faith. We are transformed in a way only made possible
by God, who causes new life where none seems possible, who keeps that candle of
hope burning, who counts our tears and waits with us as we count the time until
we are transformed.
“Is
there no balm in Gilead?” Yes, there is a balm in Gilead. His name is Jesus. “How
long, O Lord?” Uh, well, time works differently with the Lord. Psalm 90:4 says,
“A thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a
watch in the night.” Yet that same psalm also says, “Teach us to number our days,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” One commentary I read said that “number
our days” does not refer to the whole span of one’s life, but to a specific
preset period of time. Moreover, we need to accurately, honestly count the
number of days of that time period so that we might understand that there is
indeed an end to it.[5]
Whatever days you are counting, whatever season you’re in that you’re waiting
and waiting and waiting for it to end, keep counting. Count faithfully, as in
accurately and with faith and hope. There is an end to it. When? I don’t know. I
don’t know how long. What I do know is that the Lord is collecting your tears
and recording them. They are not in vain. Your struggles are not in vain. “In
God I trust and am not afraid,” no matter what may be hounding me or knocking
at the door. No matter what season I’m in, whether it’s a fruitful one or a
season of drought. I will be faithful with what has been entrusted to me.
[1]
Luke 16:8-9, MSG
[2]
Luke 16:10-12, MSG
[3]
Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, p. 48
[4]
Matthew 10:30
[5] The Book of Psalms, The New
International Commentary on the Old Testament, p. 695
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