Monday, July 27, 2020

Getting Unstuck with Dr. Seuss: Pride and Forgiveness


July 12, 2020
Luke 15:11-31
The Zax: Perseverance, Pride, and Forgiveness

            Today we are continuing our Dr. Seuss sermon series.  This is week two exploring how Dr. Seuss stories illuminate lessons from the Bible and our own daily life.  The parable of the prodigal son that we just read is familiar to most of us.  However, I don’t know that Dr. Seuss’s story of “The Zax” is as familiar.  It’s found in his collection of short stories called “The Sneetches and Other Stories” and it involves two Zax making tracks in the prairie of Prax. 
            One Zax is a North-Going Zax and the other Zax is a South-Going Zax, and as you might imagine, the prairie of Prax isn’t big enough for the both of them.  As one goes north and one goes south, they bump into each other, foot to foot and face to face. 
            The North-Going Zax says, “Look here, now! I say! You are blocking my path. You are right in my way. I’m a North-Going Zax and I always go north.  Get out of my way, now, and let me go forth!”
“Who’s in whose way?” snaps the South-Going Zax.  “I always go south, making south-going tracks. So you’re in MY way! And I ask you to move and let me go south in south-going groove.”
Then the North-Going Zax puffs his chest up with pride. “I never take a step to one side. And I’ll prove to you that I won’t change my ways if I have to keep standing here fifty-nine days!”
            The South-Going Zax yells back, “I’ll prove to YOU that I can stand here in the prairie of Prax tor fifty-nine years! For I live by a rule that I learned as a boy back in South-Going School. Never budge! That’s my rule. Never budge in the least! Not an inch to the west! Not an inch to the east! I’ll stay here, not budging!  I can and I will if it makes you and me and the whole world stand still!”[1]
How stubborn do you consider yourself, on a scale of 1-10? Anyone on the low end, 1, 2, or 3; you’ve never been described as stubborn? How about in the middle, 4, 5, or 6; you’re kinda stubborn, or stubborn about some things but not others? As we go up the scale, how about 7 or 8; pretty stubborn? And how about 9 or 10; who is very stubborn? This is where we get into some of those animal analogies, like bull-headed or stubborn as a mule. Has anyone ever been called pig-headed? Me too. On the one hand, this is how stuff gets done. We don’t give up. We see it through. Perseverance is a good thing, and it’s encouraged throughout the bible. It’s one of the characteristics of love in 1 Corinthians 13, “Love always perseveres” (verse 7). In Hebrews 12:1-2, we’re encouraged to “run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” But have you ever heard that explanation between strengths and weaknesses that says a weakness is a strength abused? Perseverance is a strength. When it is carried too far, however, is when it becomes a problem. It needs to be tempered by discernment, perhaps best described in that Kenny Rogers song, “The Gambler”: “You've got to know when to hold ‘em. Know when to fold ‘em. Know when to walk away. And know when to run.” Both Zax decided to hold their cards and not budge.
            Neither Zax was willing to give in, willing to take just one step to the side so that they could continue their tracks.  They were each too proud, too stuck in their ways to even consider a compromise.  We are called to persevere and hold tight to our beliefs, but we must be willing to consider new ways to live out those beliefs.  Would stepping to one side, or each taking half a step so they could pass each other, have been a betrayal to their rules?  Yes, taking pride in your work, in your family, and in your church is a good thing.  But when pride makes you inflexible, it’s a problem.  When pride makes you think you don’t need anyone else, as in the case of the prodigal son, it’s a problem.  You see, the prodigal son, or, let’s call him the younger brother, he thought he didn’t need anyone else to make his own way in the world.  He thought he could do it by himself, as long as he had his daddy’s money.  But he didn’t need his daddy, or any other member of his family.  His pride, in himself, turned into egotism and so he rudely demanded his half of the inheritance.  To do so in that culture meant that you considered your father dead to you.  And he not only acted as if his father were dead, but wanted his share NOW.  His pride had turned into ugly stubbornness.  It had to be his way and his timing.  And so, his dad acquiesces, even though it hurts.  When you’re confronted with someone and it’s their way or the highway, you’re not left with many choices.  I guess the dad figured he was losing his son either way, so at least this way, the son had some money to help him get by.  Ultimatums aren’t pretty because they force someone to act a certain way and love never forces.  That’s why although we persevere in the race set out before us and we hold tight to our beliefs, we remain open to new ways to faithfully live out those beliefs.  There’s more than one way of doing things well and change can be a good thing.  Worshiping outdoors this summer is one example. We’ve done it at Jennings Chapel before, but not here, and not regularly. Yet it’s the way we can worship in person and still guard each other’s health. There is more than one way to persevere and be faithful. 
The next lesson to learn from the Zax is that competition can bring out the best in us or the worst in us.  Healthy competition can bring out the best, it makes you work harder, study harder, strive to do better.  I remember a math class in high school where the teacher passed the tests back by row, so you took yours off the top and saw the grade of the person sitting behind you.  Chris always did better than me.  I studied more and would ace the test, and then I’d see his grade as I passed his paper back to him and he’d gotten the extra credit.  I don’t think I ever got a higher grade than him in that class.  But it made me study more.  Unfortunately, in the case of the Zax, I think it’s safe to say that this competition brought out the worst in them.  It’s like the staring contest, neither one is willing to blink first.  Or, how about sibling rivalry?  Can anyone relate to that?  It’s what we hear from the older brother after his younger brother returns:  “IT’S NOT FAIR!  Dad, how dare you accept your son back and not only that but throw him a party!  He’s thrown away the money you gave him and you welcome him home with a party?!?!  I’ve spent my whole life working for you, I’ve never disobeyed you or disowned you, like this other son of yours.  And you welcome him back?!”  Anyone remember telling your parents it’s not fair over something your sibling did?  Or hearing it from your own kids?  I identify very well with the older brother in this story; I get him and where he’s coming from.  Any other obedient oldest siblings out there, you do everything you’re asked and are perfectly obedient? And yet your parents still love your younger siblings, too [sigh].  I was in my early 20s before I ever began to understand either the youngest son or the father and see a different point of view in this parable besides the older brother’s.  Friendly rivalry is one thing; fanaticism, and extreme partisanship where the two sides can’t even talk to each other, is totally different. We read “The Zax” today, and it’s impossible not to read our political climate in it. How many stalemates, filibusters, gerrymandering, and deadlocks have we seen over the past few years?! In the weeks leading up to the 2016 election, I preached on it. We were all thinking about it. It was an elephant in the room if it didn’t get addressed. And I was careful to say universally true things. I said both candidates were made in God’s image. I said both candidates were in need of our prayers. And I said our country needed prayer. After the election, I preached on how it felt like we had post-traumatic stress syndrome from the election. Our political parties feel like the South-going Zax and the North-going Zax stopped in their tracks, refusing to budge… while the rest of the world goes on around them. How do we get unstuck? I don’t know, other than it starts with prayer. If you’re not already, start praying for our election this fall. Pray for the candidates. Pray for our country. Pray that we can again start to have conversations across party lines, for the sake of our country. Extreme fanaticism brings out the worst, and we do not need any more of that. We need our best. Healthy competition is more like the proverb of how iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17), making both better, rather than wanting to obliterate your opponent. I’m a lifelong baseball fan, and I’d always rather watch a game that’s closer matched and the teams are back and forth on who’s winning, instead of watching a blowout. Somehow our society has become more about the blowouts, rather than working to make each team work better and harder. Let competition and rivalry bring out the best, not the worst in you. 
Unlike most Dr. Seuss stories, “The Zax” has an unhappy ending.  Neither Zax budges, and, of course, the world doesn’t stand still and wait for them.  The last picture in the story is of how the new highway was built right over those two stubborn Zax and civilization was built around them.  The Zax stay un-budged in their tracks, their conflict unresolved.  Similarly, Jesus doesn’t give a resolution to the parable of this family.  We don’t know what the older son decides to do, whether to join the party or to stay mad out in the fields.  What we do know is the father’s response to his sons.  His younger son he immediately welcomes, accepts, and forgives.  There is no hesitation.  The father, of course, represents God in this story, and God is always ready to forgive and welcome back, no matter how far we have wandered.  God waits with open arms to receive us back, and is willing to let the past be the past.  This is what’s not fair and what the older brother complains about.  To him, the father responds very graciously: “Son, you don't understand. You're with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours – but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he's alive! He was lost, and he's found! I have two sons!”  The father wants to include both his sons in this celebration.  Those of us who have been Christians all our lives don’t need to be jealous of new Christians.  Those of us who have been church members since we were in utero don’t need to feel threatened by newcomers.  There is enough room here for everybody.  God wants to include everybody and is willing to forgive everything.  God’s the example of extreme forgiveness  and radical hospitality and it’s not ugly.  It’s a risk, yeah.  It may mean getting told “I told you so.”  It may mean discovering the long-forgotten cause of a rift from decades ago.  God forgives you and wants you to forgive others, just as you have been forgiven.  God wants you here and your brother across the aisle here as well. We don’t know if the older brother forgives his younger brother and is willing to extend hospitality to him.  He may stay stuck in his stubbornness and hold a grudge. I pray that any grudges you are holding you might begin to let go of today, that you might forgive those who need your forgiveness. You don’t have any control over how the other person acts, whether they accept your forgiveness or not, whether they’re ready to let bygones be bygones or not. You have control over you. And whatever relationship you’re stuck in, whatever Zax you’re toe-to-toe with, reach out and offer a conversation. Don’t assume anything. Assuming gets us in trouble and it does not help us connect. We’re seeking connection. That’s part of why we’re gathered here in person. So, don’t assume you know. Come with humility and a desire to understand. Persevere and seek after those things that build us all up, “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). What a different world it would be! And it would look a lot more like God’s kingdom, which is what we’re told to seek first (Matthew 6:33). Be stubborn about that.


[1] “The Zax” in The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss, 1961.

Getting Unstuck with Dr. Seuss: Change


Dr. Seuss Sermon Series
July 5, 2020
Ezekiel 37:1-11; 2 Corinthians 5:14-20
Green Eggs and Ham: Change

            “Green Eggs and Ham” is one of Dr. Seuss’s most well-known books and one of the top ten most popular children’s books. Published in 1960, it was the result of a bet between Dr. Seuss and his editor that he could write a complete book using only 50 different words. Dr. Seuss won, as the book uses exactly 50 different words to relate the conversation between Sam and this other guy who does not want to try green eggs and ham. In the Netflix series, he’s actually given the name, Guy, so that’s what I’m going to use this morning. Sam tries throughout the whole book to convince Guy to eat the green eggs and ham in nine different environments (in a house, a box, a car, a tree, a train, the dark, the rain, on a boat, and last, in the water) and with three different animals (a mouse, a fox, and a goat). Guy refuses the whole time, saying, “I would not like them here or there! I would not like them anywhere!” At the end, the whole party falls off the train onto the boat, capsizing the boat and ending with everyone treading water, gathered around Guy, who finally relents and agrees to try them. On a page with no words, Dr. Seuss drew a very expectant illustration as everyone is leaning in to watch. Lo and behold, once Guy stopped resisting and was brave enough to try them, he learned that he does like green eggs and ham.
            Today we are also trying something brand new. This is our first in person worship service since March. In March, we had to try something brand new and we started worshiping online only. We had been experimenting with it, but overnight it became a necessity, which is how and why we were able to transition so fast when many churches took that first Sunday off. Now, with Maryland’s numbers mostly steady, we are transitioning again. I’m sure some of you felt a bit of apprehension, because it’s something new. This is outside our comfort zone, we’ve never done worship both in person and online at the same time. I’ve been concerned about camera angles and where I direct my attention and how is this going to look, since that will affect how it is received. This is being brave and courageous and also safe at the same time, so that we’re not taking unnecessary risks. Y’all know I’m immune-compromised and we have many more in our congregation who are as well. That verse on some of the ear savers, 1 John 4:11, says, “Since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.” How we have spaced out, brought our own chairs, and wearing our masks are signs of showing love to each other. We know we are safer outside than inside, so here we are in this beautiful space, that I’ve started to think we built for such a time as this, without knowing that five years ago.
Change is part of life. You can’t grow without changing, and if you don’t grow, then you stagnate and begin to die. For children, growth means physical growth. For all of us, growth means emotional and spiritual growth. I once heard a speaker say that if the you of today doesn’t consider the you of five years ago to be a heretic, then you’re not growing spiritually. That idea has stayed with me, because you should be growing and changing. On the one hand, there’s the saying that necessity is the mother of invention that dates back to Plato. Another way to say it is that necessity is the mother of trying to change things. This necessity is what we have all experienced during this pandemic. It became necessary to learn how to do church online, to do almost everything in our lives differently, from work, school, shop, even cutting our hair as I’ve become the barber in my house.
Our natural response to change is to resist it, or to only put up with it and tolerate it for as long as we have to and then it can go away. Some changes are temporary, like dying your hair. Other changes are not going to go away, and we have to not just tolerate but adapt and eventually accept the new normal. There are times we don’t want to accept the message. This is what happened in Ezekiel’s time. The message God gave him to share with the people was unpopular and unappetizing; the people didn’t want to hear it. Sounds a little bit like social distancing and wearing masks, doesn’t it? When Ezekiel prophesied, the people were in exile and Israel was destroyed. The people wanted comfort and assurance and words to make them feel better. They wanted to hear things would get better soon, that they could go home soon, that things would “return to normal” soon. Instead, God told Ezekiel to share a message about judgment and a warning of more destruction! It was NOT what the people wanted to hear! Some folks wanted to return to the “good old days,” to “get back to normal”; but Ezekiel’s message said that those days weren’t so good after all. Isn’t that a hard message to hear! Although, it reminds me of the Billy Joel song “Keeping the Faith”; there’s a line that says, “The good ole days weren’t always good and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” Talk about a message of hope with the unknown, and an acknowledgement that we often view the past through rose-colored glasses.
The good news is that with God’s judgment comes God’s forgiving grace, calling us back like sheep gone astray or like breathing new life into our dry bones. With some changes, like exile, destruction, a total change in our way of life, all we see are the dry bones and we want the water from the old familiar sources. We want our familiar food. We want our familiar ways of life. We want what we’re used to. And yet life means change and growth. It means trying green eggs and ham. It means learning how to shop while wearing a mask or doing more of our shopping online. It means learning new ways to live and be in the world. Yet with the reassurance, as Acts 17:28 says, that in Jesus, we live and move and have our being. And that never changes. Jesus is our constant as the world about us changes, as our families change, as our very bodies change. My daughter very nicely pointed out my gray hairs the other night and implied that the change was sad. I told her that gray hair is normal and it’s part of life. Change is sad, because it means letting go of what was and grieving it. It’s also exciting as the world is bright with potential and what could be.
By virtue of being in Christ, in whom we live and move and have our being, it also means that we’re part of the new creation. We read in 2 Corinthians that “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (5:16). It means we’re living into God’s kingdom, as the hungry are fed and the homeless move into new homes and the naked are clothed and all feel included and heard and listened to, because we’re loving each other as Christ loved us, laying down his life for us. We do not live for ourselves but for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:15). Christ, who called Zaccheus out of a tree and into a new way of life, who called Matthew the tax collector to come follow him, who called James and John to turn them from fishermen of fish to fishermen of people, who calls us to leave behind what no longer fits us, what does not show kindness and love, what focuses on self and not on God and neighbor, who calls us to become a new creation. It is not easy. There is always resistance to change. But with God’s grace and God’s help and God’s life-giving Spirit, we can do it.
One of the new mantras in my house has been “we can do hard things.” I could change it to “we can eat green eggs and ham,” but we’ve been dying so much food, we’re out of green dye. Sometimes the change you resist, is the change that you need, that will breathe fresh life into old bones. Or, to put it in a five year old’s words, one thing my son came up with last spring was that “the bible says that if you make up a new game, you have to try it.” Or, consider what God said to the Israelites while they were preparing to enter the Promised Land. Three times God says, “Be strong and courageous,” along with the reassurance, “I will be with you” (Joshua 1:5-9). “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9). Thanks be to God. Amen.

God’s Promises: Provision


4th Sunday after Pentecost
June 28, 2020
Genesis 22:1-14; Psalm 13

            This passage from Genesis is what I wrote my very first sermon on, the summer after my first year of seminary. I hadn’t even had a class on preaching yet. The few times I had spoken from a pulpit to give the Sunday message, it was about my testimony, my witness, and my call story to Nicaragua. It was sharing what God was doing through me and inviting the congregation to join me. I suppose it was only natural that at my first church internship, I compared this story of Abraham and Isaac with my call story to serve God in Nicaragua. My title was something like, When God’s Call Doesn’t Make Sense. I remember I picked the hymn, “Trust and Obey,” to sing. “Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.”[1] Rather than focus on the beginning part, though, on the call, this time I’d like to focus on the end and what happens as a response to the call. However, let’s review a little before we get there.
            You may remember from two weeks ago about the three strangers visiting Abraham and telling him that Sarah was going to become pregnant and have a son. We’re not told Abraham’s response, but we know that Sarah laughed. She’d been infertile for so many years and decades, she didn’t dare believe it. When you struggle with infertility, after a while, you don’t dare get your hopes up that this next time might work. It’s too painful. So Sarah laughed, and yet it did happen. At 90 years old she gets pregnant and Isaac is born.
            We don’t know exactly how old Isaac is in today’s story. The narrator just tells us that it’s “some time later.”[2] Yet Isaac is walking and talking and obviously aware of what’s going on. He knows they’re going to make a burnt offering to the Lord and he knows that they’re missing one of the key ingredients: the lamb. Isaac asks his dad where the lamb is, and his dad says, “God will provide the lamb.” Then, after they’ve set up the altar, Abraham binds Isaac and places him on the altar. Isaac, who is Abraham’s promised heir. Isaac, who Abraham and Sarah waited SO LONG for. Isaac, Abraham and Sarah’s only son, only child, whom they love. How in the world can this direction from God jive with the promise from God that Abraham would become a great nation through Isaac?! It does not seem to make sense. This call from God seems to negate God’s earlier promise. And yet Abraham is ready to follow through.
            Lest we think Abraham’s faith is a blind faith, though, let’s do a quick review. At times Abraham’s faith has been rock solid. When God first calls him to leave his home and go to a place God will tell him later, Abraham goes. Another time, Abraham believes what God says and the narrator says it’s “credited to Abraham as righteousness.” Abraham isn’t some super saint, though. Other times his faith has been shaky. When traveling through Egypt, he tries to pass Sarah off as his sister in order to keep her safe, not trusting that God would keep her safe. Then there’s the time when he and Sarah conspired for his promised heir to come through Sarah’s maid Hagar, when they tried to circumvent God’s plan and make it happen their own way because God was taking too long. Abraham has learned the hard way that God can be trusted and that God will keep his promises in his own way. So, God says take your son, Isaac, the one whom I promised you and gave you and said would be your heir, and go offer him as a sacrifice, Abraham does it. He’s willing to trust God, even though this seems to contradict other things God has said and done and promised.
            We are told that this is a test, meaning that we, as readers, know that God has no intention of going through with it. Abraham doesn’t know that. He may or may not guess it, but he can’t be sure of God’s intentions ahead of time any more than we can. “God asks Abraham to demonstrate his faith by trusting God with his hopes, his future, his deepest longings, his only son whom he loves,”[3] basically everything Abraham has and values. It’s been important to Abraham for him to have an heir, and now God’s saying to trust him with the heir, too. The angel stops Abraham from killing his son, because that wasn’t what God wanted. What God wanted was for “Abraham to face his own conflicted and divided loyalties.”[4] Did Abraham trust God completely? Not blindly, because Abraham knows what God is capable of and knows that God is faithful. But trusts him completely, knowing that God will provide.  Abraham passes the test. Would you? Abraham was ready to sacrifice Isaac in spite of God’s promise for Isaac to be his heir. God’s instructions for this burnt offering didn’t make sense in light of one of God’s previous promises. How do you still believe the promise AND follow this new instruction? How do you trust both promises, when they seem to conflict?
One commentary I read said that “Abraham now knows, in the profoundest of ways, that life with God is a gift, and God’s blessing is freely bestowed. He need not do anything – God will provide – generously, bountifully, wondrously. All he has to do is look up to see that God has been there all along, guiding his steps, directing his paths, and making a future for him.”[5] When we know and trust in God’s provision, we can look back and see how God has been guiding and providing all along. And because we can look back and see that, we can trust the future with God, too.  In this story, God proves that God can be trusted. In fact, God demonstrates this time and again throughout history. Moreover, while God spares Abraham’s son, God gives his own son to up to death. This is also an act of provision on God’s part, a provision that would ultimately fulfill what God started in Abraham, which is the restoration of blessing to the nations and to the world. “Because Christ died, our relationship with God has forever been changed. Whatever sin, whatever guilt, whatever brokenness we carry, Christ has dealt with it and abolished it in the cross. This story invites us then, to a posture of fear and awe as well as profound gratitude for God’s faithfulness to his covenant promises and the redemption we have through him.”[6]
Sometimes we are caught between two promises from God that seem to conflict. Sometimes, we find ourselves trudging up that mountain, listening to God and obeying what God said, and wondering how in the world God is going to resolve all this. We pray and tell God, “God, you said this, but you also said this. God, I don’t see how those two reconcile. I trust you. I trust you’ve got a plan. Right now, it doesn’t make sense. Yet I trust that one day I will be able to see it.” This in-between time is hard. We’ve left the old normal of before COVID-19, but we haven’t yet gotten to the new normal of after the pandemic. We’re still living in the middle. We’ve left the old normal of being “colorblind” to race, what I was taught growing up in the 1980s, but we haven’t yet gotten to the point of all figuring out and learning the best language to move forward that respects all people and shows our belief that all people are equally worthy of belonging and love. We’re still in the in-between and it’s hard and painful. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was a philosopher, paleontologist, and Jesuit priest. I’m going to end with my favorite quote from him. He said, “Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We would like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet, it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability – and that it may take a very long time. Above all, trust in the slow work of God, our loving vine-dresser.” Thanks be to God. Amen.


[1] UMH 467
[2] Genesis 22:1, NIV; other translations say “After these things…”
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid.
[6] Ibid.

God’s Promises: Do You Believe Them?


2nd Sunday after Pentecost
June 14, 2020
Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 10:1-20

This month we are going to focus on God’s promises. Last week we talked about God’s promise that I am with you always, from the beginning to the end. In the Ezekiel bible study we read about God’s promise that I am with you always, no matter where you are, whether you’re in your own country or in exile. This week we’re going to talk about trusting God’s promises. Do you believe what God promises? Do you trust God’s promise that God is always with you? Do you believe God loves you unconditionally? Do you trust God to do what God says?
In Genesis this morning we read the story of Abraham and Sarah offering hospitality to three strangers. Their story began when God told Abram, “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.”[1] Abram and Sarai go, not knowing where they’re going, or how long it’s going to take them to get there. God promises them, “I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing.”[2] Abram and Sarai have some adventures along the way, and by three chapters later, Abram is starting to doubt God’s promise of making him into a great nation. This is when God has Abram go outside and tells him, “Look up at the sky and count the stars if you think you can count them. This is how many children you will have.”[3] Abram believes him, and they move on. However, in the next chapter, this is now Genesis 16, it appears that Sarai thinks the problem is with her. She tells Abram to sleep with her maid, Hagar, which was a common practice back then. Abram agrees and Hagar gets pregnant with Ishmael. So, now Abram and Sarai think God’s promise is fulfilled. Abram has a son. They made it happen. They think their work caused God to keep his promise. But that’s not how God works, is it? That’s not how God is faithful. It’s not because of anything we do. God is faithful because that’s who God is. God keeps his promises because God is faithful. God doesn’t keep his promises because we force his hand.
Now we’re up to Chapter 17, and God repeats the same promise to Abram, because apparently Abram and Sarai don’t believe him. This is when God gives them new names, Abraham and Sarah, and promises Sarah, “I will bless her and will surely give you a son by her. I will bless her so that she will be the mother of nations; kings of peoples will come from her.”[4] At this point, Abraham laughs, and says, “I’m going to have a son at 100 years old? Oh, this is rich! God, maybe you should just take Ishmael.” God says, “No, your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him. And as for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him,” too.[5]
Then we get to today’s reading. And this time, this time, God doesn’t waste much time. After renewing the covenant with Abraham for the third time, over ten years after God first called Abraham and Sarah from their home, after they’ve tried to make God’s promise come true on their own, God sends these three strangers to visit. Abraham greets them with extravagant hospitality, bringing fresh bread and milk for them to eat. One of the strangers says, “this time next year, your wife Sarah will have a son. Sarah, who’s eavesdropping from around the corner, laughs. She laughs! Wouldn’t you? Sarah is over 90 years old; she’s post-menopausal. She’s heard this promise time and again. She’s at the point where she doubts God’s promise, and the truth is, she has good reason to: it still hasn’t happened yet! While Sarah is chastened for laughing, her laughing is completely understandable. She’s been hearing this promise for so long, it’s been unfulfilled for so long, and now some stranger says it’s finally going to happen? I think I’d be incredulous, too, because I’d also be scared to get my hopes up. I would doubt, because I’d be afraid of being disappointed, again. It would be a self-defense mechanism to keep me from getting hurt. There are times God takes his sweet time fulfilling promises.
In our Gospel lesson this morning Jesus sends out the twelve disciples with very specific instructions. He tells them, “Go to the lost sheep of Israel. As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons. Freely you have received; freely give.”[6] Moreover, the disciples are to do this with no money and no suitcase, no supplies. They have to trust that the town they go to will offer them hospitality: a place to stay, food to eat, and a change of clothes if theirs get torn. They have to trust God will provide what they need. They have to rely on the generosity of the people to whom they are sent. If the people are unwelcoming or hostile, then shake the dust off your feet and move on. Trusting in a stranger’s hospitality can be a scary thing. You do it, anyway, trusting God promise that you’ll be taken care of. It may not be food you really care to eat. It may not be the type of bed you sleep well in.
It reminds me of a story I don’t think I’ve ever shared from Nicaragua. Before seminary, I spent about a year teaching in Nicaragua with a non-denominational mission agency called Food for the Hungry. One of the places I taught was in the remote village of Santa Maria. To get to Santa Maria, if you don’t have private transportation, which I didn’t, you get on the bus that runs between the cities of Leon and Chinandega. When you get on, you sit near the front and ask the bus driver to let you off at the manicera, the peanut plant. The bus driver looks at you funny, because why in the world would a gringa want to get off there?? But when you do, there’s a horse and cart waiting for you to take you the couple kilometers off the main road and down a dirt road into the village. The village didn’t use to be here. It used to be on the other side of the main road, up the side of a mountain. Then Hurricane Mitch came in 1998 and horrible mudslides that wiped out half the village. Everyone lost someone. And the village decided they couldn’t stay there; they had to move. Many Christian organizations worked with the people of Santa Maria, including Food for the Hungry, offering counseling, relief work, and eventually training in other marketable job skills. My second visit was on the eve of the 7th anniversary of the mudslides, in 2005. I’d been in Nicaragua about six weeks at the time and had been whisked around the Pacific side of the country learning about what Food for the Hungry and their partner organizations were doing. That particular night, we were fed dinner by the local pastor, some beans and a tortilla and some of the local cheese. It wasn’t enough, and I went to bed hot, dirty, and hungry. Beds and mosquito netting were provided for us. My mosquito net had big holes in it. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well. In the morning there was no breakfast. I ended up skipping the anniversary commemoration. There was heavy rain forecast for the day, and when a colleague with a car decided to leave early, I asked to go, too. As I mentioned, after that, I made weekly trips on my own out to Santa Maria. But I never again spent the night there, nor did I eat another meal there. I made sure to eat before I left and I ate again when I got back to Leon (where I lived).
God kept his promises throughout my time in Nicaragua. I had enough. I lived with a middle class family where the mom was a teacher and the dad was a doctor who taught at the university. I grew close with a couple other American families serving with other mission agencies as well as colleagues from my own. There were still lots of times when I was overwhelmed. There were still times during the dry season when I asked God why he didn’t send me somewhere with air-conditioning! Yet God kept, and keeps, his promises. I expect each of you have your own stories to tell of promises that God has fulfilled for you, or even some you’re still waiting for, like Sarah and that baby.
God does not call all of us, or even most of us, to leave our homeland and our people and go to a different one, like Abraham and Sarah and my call to Nicaragua. Most of us are called to serve God right where we are. The disciples weren’t sent out to another place or people but to stay right there in Israel. They even may have been going back to their hometowns. Sometimes going to a people you know is harder than going to a people you don’t know. The people you know expect you to act a certain way, to talk a certain way. When you change, as we all do, it may become harder for the people who know to accept you if you don’t fit their expectations of you. Sometimes, we fall back into old familiar patterns. Familiar places trigger old behavior. When we’re growing in Christ, when we’re stretching ourselves, challenging ourselves, learning more about ourselves and about God and about who God’s calling us to be, we have to be careful to not fall back into those old ways. We have to keep moving forward, becoming who God’s calling us to be, going where God’s calling us to go, always standing on those promises, no matter how long it may seem to take God to keep them.

Let us pray…


[1] Genesis 12:1
[2] Genesis 12:2
[3] Genesis 15:5
[4] Genesis 17:16
[5] Genesis 17:19-20
[6] Matthew 10:6-8