Second Sunday after Pentecost
June 22, 2014
Psalm 86; Matthew 10:24-39
I
have never liked the question “Where are you from?” I’ve never liked it, because I’ve never known
how to answer it. Is the person asking
where I was born? Where I’ve lived the
longest? Or where I currently live? Those answers aren’t just three different
states, but three different parts of the country! I moved six times before I graduated high
school, living in four different states and another country. I had a friend in college who couldn’t
understand moving so much and not
being tied to a particular geographic place.
She grew up in the house her parents built, across the street from her
grandparents, on land that had been in her family for generations. She’s now raising her family on that same plot
of land. For my part, I couldn’t
understand being connected to one particular location. Since I obviously didn’t have roots in one
place, I used to say that I had tendrils: a tendril in this place I lived, a
tendril in that place, tendrils at each of my grandparents’ houses, a tendril
where I went to college and grad school.
However, I was reflecting on this recently and I think that tendrils are
too fragile a thing, I think that what I’ve called tendrils are actually roots, they’re just not all
clumped together like most roots and so they’re not as visible. My roots are located more in people and time
and formative events than in geography. Although, I have a feeling folks in Maryland are going to think I'm Southern, even if those of you who are native Southerners know that I'm not.
Regardless
of where you locate your roots, what happens to them in light of today’s
Scripture reading, when Jesus says that “those who lose their life for his sake
will find it”? This passage is among the
last the instructions that Jesus gives to the twelve as he sends them out. The first part of the directions is to
proclaim that “the kingdom of heaven has come near,” and to heal the sick. The second part is where Jesus tells them to
take nothing with them: no money, no change of clothes, not even a bag. They are to trust God to take care of them
and provide for them. Next, Jesus says
to stay in those houses that welcome you and to not worry about those that
don’t; just brush the dust off your feet as you leave. Then he tells them to be as wise as serpents
and as innocent as doves and should they be persecuted, to not worry what they
are to say in their defense; the words will be given to them by the Holy Spirit. Finally, we get to today’s passage: Don’t be intimidated. Don’t be bullied into silence. You are of more value than many sparrows; God
knows even the number of hairs on your head.
If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give up your
life for Jesus you will find it.
And
yet, giving up your life for Jesus often means feeling like you’re uprooting yourself. This is because, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it
in The Cost of Discipleship, the
first call which every Christian “must experience is the call to abandon the
attachments of this world.”[1] We are called to not be more devoted or
committed to anything than we are to Christ.
God comes first, over family, over work, over family land, over our
roots. Bonhoeffer wrote later on in the
same paragraph, “When Christ calls a man [or woman], he bids him come and die. It may be a death like that of the first
disciples who had to leave home and work to follow him, or it may be a death
like [Martin] Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the
world.”[2] It may feel like the end of the world as we
know it. It may mean leaving some roots
behind. Christ calls us to put him first
and to die to all else. To love him the
most and to love others less than him, to be willing to leave friends and
family and the familiar behind.
There
are some changes coming to Orange, and so this next season may feel a little
bit like uprooting. But know this:
uprooting does not mean changing who you are.
It does not mean changing traditions that are life-giving. It does not mean not honoring the past and
those who have come before. Orange has a
rich history full of the saints of God who loved to do his will. And there are many saints here now,
continuing to seek and do his will. The
roots of the Church are staying put, as they are grounded firmly in
Christ. Finally, don’t forget that God has
already begun a good work in you, and he is faithful and will see it to
completion.[3] God has
been active here, is active here,
and will continue to be active here,
no matter what happens. God planted this
church here for a reason, it has roots in this community, and we are still
living into that call and becoming what God wants Orange to become.
Now,
we don’t know exactly what that looks like.
Giving up your life to follow Jesus, whether as an individual or as a
church, often means not knowing what the
future holds, and that’s pretty scary.
Jesus often calls us to step out in faith, to be vulnerable and live
without security. When God called Abram
he said, “Go to the land that I will show you.”[4] Abram had to go first, and once he was on his
way, then God told him just where he
was going. Abram only got to see one
step at a time and had to trust God’s call.
This spring I didn’t know what the future held, and I had accepted the
likelihood that I wouldn’t be pastoring anywhere at all. My husband and I knew God had called us to
move, but we had very little idea what that was going to look like. The house was on the market before I got a
call from the District Superintendent that I’d be serving at any church at all.
This
past week I found out one more piece of what the future holds in Maryland, the
next step, and some of you have already heard this. I share it with you not just because of our
United Methodist connection, but because when one part of the body of Christ
hurts, we all hurt. This part is the reason why I have tissues up here with me. As I told you last month, I’ll be
pastoring two churches, who have had different pastors before now. One pastor I’ve communicated with quite a bit
and she’ll be a great resource and guide for me. The other pastor unexpectedly passed away
last weekend. He was found at the
parsonage, having ended his battle with mental illness by committing suicide. I would ask you please to keep that church
and his family in your prayers as they grieve and mourn. We don’t know what the future holds, other
than that God is faithful and will continue to guide us through it.
We
know this because he has promised that if we forget about ourselves and focus
on Jesus and follow him, we will find
life again.[5] And it will be not just any life but abundant life, full of opportunities
and potential. “The thief comes only to
steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it
abundantly.”[6] This
is the life Jesus wants us to have.
There
was a time in my life when I found the book of Ecclesiastes fascinating, and
besides Chapter 3, which The Birds made into a song, my other favorite verse
was 11:1 – “Cast your bread upon the waters, for you will find it after many
days.” And I wondered, what does it mean
to cast your bread upon the waters?
Bread will get soggy and disintegrate and then it’ll be no good. But bread as a metaphor, like your
livelihood, or your daily bread, to give it up, and then after many days you
will find it again. It’s another way of
saying the same thing – “those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Cast that which you trust in upon the waters,
and after many days God will return it to you multiplied many times over.
Many
of you have heard my story of leaving everything to serve God in
Nicaragua. I left my job, sold my car,
and packed up my stuff. And you know
what my mom said after I’d been there a couple months? That this was the happiest she had seen me in
my entire life. I followed Jesus’ call,
gave up my life with air conditioning and clean water and financial security,
and I found my life again. In fact, so
much so that then God asked me to give up that
life and return to the U.S., to seminary, to North Carolina, and the life I
found here was with Lee. We
started dating within a couple months of my leaving Nicaragua. I already had some tendrils in North Carolina
and they turned into stronger roots.
In
following Jesus’ call to Maryland, I don’t feel like we’re uprooting our
family. We are not pulling out our roots
here. We have family in North Carolina
who will continue to be our family. Sue,
the pastor at Saxapahaw United Methodist, will continue to be our children’s
godmother. St. Francis United Methodist
in Cary will continue to be the church that sent me into ministry. And y’all will continue to be Isabel’s first
church family, a place she is always loved and welcome. Here is where she was baptized and became
part of God’s family. We even managed to
squeeze in her first day of school here this past week, as she attended
Orange’s Vacation Bible School.
Losing
your life for the sake of the Gospel doesn’t mean uprooting or cutting ties; it
means planting new roots. It doesn’t
mean there was anything wrong with the old roots, or what you were doing
before; it’s just time to add some new roots.
One thing that helped me in leaving Nicaragua, which was a dream job for
me, was this quote by Mother Teresa, found in her book, Total Surrender:
“However
beautiful the work is,
Be
detached from it,
Even
ready to give it up.
You
may be doing great good in one place,
But
obedience calls you elsewhere.
Be
ready to leave.
The
work is not yours.
You
are working for Jesus.”
The work is not mine. The work is not yours. The work is God’s and he works through us to
bring his creation to completion. You
may be doing a great thing, but if God calls you to leave it, to give it up for
his sake, then it’s time to go. It
doesn’t change your roots. It may feel
like the end of the world as you know it.
But the work we do, wherever we do it and whatever we do, is for
Jesus.
Thanks be to the Father, to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.
