Suffering and blindness during a plague . . .

     Why doesn’t God stop this plague?  Is He punishing us for a particular sin?  Why doesn’t He protect the good people and let the bad people catch it?  Doesn’t He understand I don’t get paid if I don’t work?—Those questions, and dozens like them, are running through our collective heads and being given voice by ourselves, our loved one, and even strangers.  In truth, our Gospel reading for the day, the Fourth Sunday of Lent, is, dare we say, providential for times and discussions like these.

     As Christians, we make the unqualified claim that God is good.  In fact, we claim that we cannot even know what is truly good apart from God’s revelation.  Our perspectives, our desires, our very being are so impacted by sin that, were God not to reveal Himself and these things to us, we would be blind to the evil we do.

     I will give you a timely example.  Many of you have been at church and heard me talk about my discussions with someone from the CDC from my prior life.  I shared the expected infection percentages, mortality percentages, and the risks as a result.  I said at the time, though, I was more appalled at the system we had let grow up around us.  He reminded me that our hospitals run like airlines.  As much as the airlines hate empty seats, hospitals don’t want empty beds.  We base executive pay on revenues and profits, so our hospital directors try to keep beds full all the time, maximizing revenues and profits and salaries.  To use corporate lingo, they cut the fat, the empty beds in this case, from their system.  Now we are all going to be paying for those decisions.  Did we recognize at the time the reduction in available beds would hurt us in the future?  Probably some “worriers” expressed some concerns, but most of us ignored their warnings.  Certainly, there were not enough worries or their listeners out there to keep a little fat.  Now what do we have as a result?  A society that is desperately trying to “flatten the curve” from a disease that, for most of us, would be survivable, so long as there were beds and ventilators available.  Think on that for a second.  The most powerful, most advanced, most technically sophisticated societies the world has ever known, will be forced to pick and choose who lives and who dies.  In autocratic countries, such is no big deal.  Here in the United States, where everyone has a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, we are adding an “except.”  And we think this is good or a necessary evil?

     Chances are, you can think of dozens of such seeming “goods” that promote systemic evils.  Certainly, your friends and families can, too.  Yet we claim God is good?

     The disconnect that we feel in such times is the subject of much conjecture.  Those who have led God’s people during various events in history have always wrestled to understand their time and their circumstances within God’s redemptive plan of salvation.  One way in which we, and the world, seek to understand this disconnect is to assume that all sufferings are punishment for evil or sin.

     For our Gospel lesson this week, the leadership knew the man born blind was suffering either because of his parents’ sin or his own.  God wants everybody to see, and the man cannot see.  Since God is good, and the man was experiencing evil, sin must be at work in this somehow.  Put more simply, they wanted to be assured that suffering is punishment for evil or sin.  When they ask Jesus the question, they expect Him to pronounce that the man’s blindness is a result of divine justice.  Jesus, of course, shocks them by telling them that neither the man nor the parents did anything to cause the blindness.

     The story is fairly well known.  Many non-Christians know the story of Jesus spitting in the dirt, making mud, putting it on the man’s eyes, telling the man to wash, and restoring his sight.  But the story is often passed over when it come to insights about suffering and God’s power and desire and punishment.  Jesus flat out rejects the teaching that the man is suffering because his parents or he sinned.  Are they sinners?  Of course.  We all are.  Did they do something special to merit their circumstances?  No, no more than any of us. 

     Jesus goes on to say that the man’s blindness was for the purpose of demonstrating God’s works in him.  God is so powerful that He can heal the man of his blindness.  And He does.  The rest of the story is about the consequences of such a healing.  Those in power, who want people to see their suffering as deserved for their own evil (and their blessed example as deserved for the leaders’ own goodness), threaten both the man and his parents.  All three have heard since the man’s birth that God rejects sinners and blesses only those who are good.  Now, he finds himself blessed beyond measure, in a way nobody else could, through the restoration of his sight.  His world has been turned upside-down.  Earlier, he had been told he deserved his blindness because he or his parents were evil.  Now he knows that God can redeem even blindness, and, perhaps just as importantly, that God knows his redemptive need!

     For his sight and understanding, the man is driven from the court.  But again he meets the One who cured His blindness.  Jesus asks the man a simple question, do you believe?  The man knows that God only listens to those who are good, more so on a Sabbath day, and so he asks Jesus who the Son of Man is.  Jesus identifies Himself as the Son of Man, and the former blind man believes and worships Jesus.

     Jesus, as we all know, is here for more than physical cures, though He freely dispenses them as He journeys around Judea and Samaria.  His real purpose is to redeem our sins, to make us able to stand before our Lord, our God, and our Father.  And so, each of these evils that Jesus cures points to the real Evil He came to redeem and His power and willingness so to do!

     In my conversations with folks and on social media, I have been reminded yet again that we are not nearly as different from those in Ancient History as we would like to believe.  Some leaders have posited that this plague is a punishment for abortion.  Others have posited that this plague is a punishment for our idolatries, be they money or power or sports or sex or whatever else they seem to be wrestling with in their personal struggles.  There is truly nothing new under the sun.

     For them and for us, the problem lies in another revelation about God.  We claim He is omnipotent, that He can do whatever He wants, whenever He wants, however He wants.  He can part seas.  He can burn bushes without consuming them.  He destroys with fire and brimstone.  And He can even raise the dead!  Can He stop the plague?  Of course.  Why does He not, then, to prevent suffering, which we all know is evil?  Ah, there’s the rub, right?  We think suffering is evil.  But God does not see suffering as evil.  For us, for those baptized into the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord, suffering becomes an opportunity to produce enduring faith in His providence.  For His Son our Lord, suffering and death was the way to save us.  As a result, each of our sufferings, our crosses, are meant to point the way to His Suffering and to His Cross.  Like the blind man in our story today, our sufferings from this plague are not due to our inherent evil.  Christ paid the price for that inherent evil, our rejection or distrust of God that we call sin, in full on Calvary nearly 2000 years ago!  There is no more punishment for us to pay.

     And while we long for His return and the recreation of the world, we recognize that we live in a world full of consequences of humanity’s rejection of Him as Lord and God.  And so, like the blind man in the story, we recognize that our sufferings, especially those of us who call God Lord and Father, may well be present in us so that God’s work of salvation might be revealed in us, so that others might turn to His saving embrace through our enduring faithfulness.

     Already at Advent we have been able to accept our suffering and trust that He will be glorified in our faithfulness.  Many of us would have loved to come and celebrate the Eucharist together this week, but we took our Lord’s command, and the command of our bishop and pleadings of our civil authorities, to love our neighbor seriously and refrained from gathering.  A number of Adventers complained that they missed the Eucharist, that watching on the web just was not the same thing.  Many of us, in ways previously thought unlikely, are experiencing a powerful Exile in the midst of 2020 Lent.  Who knows how God’s Word will come alive the next we read of Exiles or sufferings or plagues!

     So far, we have been blessed.  No Adventers have come down with COVID-19.  We understand that there is nothing within us that commends us or makes us worthy of such blessings; it is Christ dwelling in us, working through us, which makes us worthy.  We expect we will feel its effects at some point.  Yet look at some of the redemption that has already occurred.  Adventers have been able to explore worship in other venues from afar.  How might that experience impact our own worship experiences when we reach the other side of this plague?  Adventers have stepped up for other Adventers at risk, making sure groceries and medicines are delivered to those who cannot or should not be out!  We’ve even experienced our own loaves and fishes as we distributed several hundred pounds of fresh produce, none of which was provided by Adventers, in God’s name to those who are desperate for food in our midst.  Bless you and your people, Father, for this.  May the Lord protect you and your flock for remembering us?  Thank you for taking this risk for me.  – Dozens of like comments were made as people headed to their cars laden with food.  Some lamented they wanted to hug, but realized now was not the time.  Though what we offered was in no wise as satisfying as the manna in the wilderness or the loaves and fishes in the feeding of 5000 men, it was an answered prayer of provision for some 300-400 people in our midst, which the world has forgotten or cares not to see.  Truly, God has already been glorified in our own suffering, as He has been glorified in the lives of so many saints and so many Adventers who have come before us.

     The question of evil and suffering and the answers provided by humanity will continue long after we have all gone to our reward, but of one certainty we can remind ourselves this day, in this season, in a country beset by fear and anxiety by a plague: suffering is not evil.  Suffering will certainly hurt us emotionally.  It may hurt us physically and spiritually.  But behind the pain and anxieties and hurts of suffering lies a deeper truth.  Suffering is the means by which God chooses to produce enduring faith in us, and suffering is the means by which God makes it clear to us and to all who have eyes to see that He, and He alone, has the power redeem all things, even our own deaths.  And for that redemptive power and His merciful and gracious will to use it to our benefit, we rightly give Him thanks and honor and our trust, knowing that He will be glorified in our suffering, and, at the recreation, we will share in that glory for all eternity, as sons and daughters, of our loving Father in heaven.

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Is the LORD among us? How do we know?

     Sometimes, you have to wonder at God’s providence.  Our Collect today reminds us that we cannot save ourselves at a time when a pandemic and panic seem to be gaining the upper hand on the world, and there is little anyone can do to stop the spread or the effects.  Our Old Testament reading from Exodus asks that question that we often wonder in the midst of such tragedies or natural catastrophes, Is God among us or not?  And our lengthy Gospel reading reminds us that these passionate discussions we have been having about church, whether to gather, what forms to use, and all that, have been going on for nearly twenty-six centuries, at least, among God’s people!  Where is the appropriate place to worship?  How do we worship properly?

     And we gather today not because we are defiant in the face of propaganda or science.  In fact, I encouraged all those at risk or those who care for or live with those at a higher mortality risk from this virus to stay away.  The pandemic is real.  The threat to life is real.  But the threat to our humanity is also real.  We now live in a society that sees the “other” as either a plague-carrier, a death-bringer, or a competitor for resources.  Folks seem to be competing mostly for toilet paper, but there have been instances of fights over sanitizing wipes and soap.  Our Kroger and Publix have experienced people trying to steal carts full of goods.  Heck, there was an article yesterday in the NY Times about people from Chattanooga profiting from the competition.  A couple weeks ago, as we began this season we call Lent, the veneer of civil behavior was strong.  We were all nice Americans.  Look at us now, such a short time later.  It’s almost like God knew whereof He spoke when He claimed we were stiff-necked, selfish, incapable of loving our neighbor as ourselves without His instruction, without His example, and without His presence among us.

     I do not join you here today out of some sort of desire for martyrdom or expected protection for faithfulness above and beyond the call of duty.  What would be the best way for God to answer our question from Exodus, Is He among us or not?  Gregg cuts right to the chase, doesn’t he?  If God were truly among us, He would keep all of us, especially those of us brave enough and faithful enough to worship Him on a day like today, safe from the plague!  I mean, He is our rock and refuge, as our hymn reminded us.  If we are the sheep of His hand, He has to keep us safe, doesn’t He?

     But does anyone here gathered expect that we will be spared from the consequences of this plague?  Do any of us think that God will keep us all from catching the plague, from transmitting it to a loved one, from the effects on our retirement accounts and pensions, from the loss of wages, from the loss of trust in others, from the depressions that will increase with isolations, and even from death?

     That was a rather resounding “no!” on a Sunday morning.  That’s how the great AMEN should sound.  But good, you have been paying attention to what God has been teaching and what I have been trying to preach and teach during my tenure here.  We serve a God who wondrously and mysteriously delights in redemptive suffering.  For some reason, He seems to think redemptive suffering catches the human eye far better than the miraculous sign and wonder we claim we want.  Think on Israel this morning.  They just saw God part the water, destroy the Egyptian special forces, protect them from the sun by day, keep them warm by night, and how do they respond at the need for water?  Is the LORD among us or not?  He’s done all that for us, but can He quench our thirst?  We might say they were blind to His presence in the midst of those miracles.

     So, back to us and those around us.  If none of us got the virus, would we notice it for what it was?  Would we see God’s hand protecting us, sheltering us?  Would those around us notice our health as a sign of God’s presence among us?  No.  It would likely be blind luck or foolish luck, to them.  What might cause them to notice His presence among us? 

     How we face our mortality is a great place to start.  None of us should seek death, but none of us should fear it, either.  If we believe God’s promises, if we believe what Jesus taught us, we who are buried in His death are raised in His resurrection!  If this virus tries to take our lives from us, God will give us that life that He has reserved for all His sons and daughters for eternity.

     As you might imagine, I have had several conversations this last week about mortality.  A few have been with Adventers, but most have been with those “in orbit” of our parish.  What do you think heaven will be like?  I tell them I have no idea.  I tell them it will be orders of magnitude beyond anything I can ask or imagine.  With one lady I used the feast imagery.  I told her, if the Marriage Feast is real, if it is the BEST feast ever in the history of the universe, what would you want to eat first?  Like many ladies, she went to the dessert table and then specifically chocolate.  I told her I go back and forth between the entrée and the appetizer table.  She asked why, and I shared that I could sample a lot more things on the appetizer table, but I just wonder at the main dish, how good must the main dish be to be served at THE FEAST?  I cracked her up.  She’d never thought of that, but, you know, chocolate.  Then I asked her what she was going to drink?  I asked her who would she like to talk to at that gathering?  I asked her if she was a dancer, was she a singer?  As we continued on, she was openly laughing at the prospects of THE FEAST.  And I reminded her that our combined imaginations were likely coming up short, and that we were only talking about the meal.  What else would be there that would make us not shed a tear at the hurts of this life?  She couldn’t imagine it, given her hurts.  Neither could I.  And if THAT is the worst outcome of this pandemic, brothers and sisters, how terrified should we be?  We should be those in the crowds remaining calm because this virus cannot take us from His hand.

     How we live out the Second Great Commandment is another great place to start.  We now live in a society where the other has become a bringer of death or a competitor for resources.  Look at the empty shelves at Publix or Kroger or Target, if you don’t believe me.  How should we, God’s chosen people, demonstrate His Commandment that we love others as ourselves?  Don’t hoard is a great place to start.  How else?  Absolutely, help those at risk in our congregation get they things they need as safely as possible.  Maybe we who are younger and less likely to die, do the grocery runs or pharmacy runs for them.  Maybe we check in with each other as an antidote against loneliness, isolation, anxiety, and depression.  Great answer!  How else?  Right!  We help those outside these walls.  It is one thing to love someone we know; it’s quite another to serve someone in His Name whom we do not know and whom we doubt will ever return us the service.  Our Governor is contemplating shutting everything down, churches included.  I do not envy him decisions such as this (that’s why we pray for our leaders), but if he shuts us down, who serves the 800 individuals on the margins that depend upon us for survival?  Where do the customers of Insight go in their effort to find healing in the midst of their anxieties, their hurts, and their traumas in this emergency?  Where do the 12-Step folks go for their needed support?  Where do the Rockhounds or even the Bluegrass folks go for their fellowship?  What happens to the immigrants in our midst, who meet here during the month to share more deeply what it means to be a stranger in a strange land?  How will the Armenians, the Mar Thoma, or even the MCF keep those ties that support them as they live and work and, yes, even worship among us?  What about the man or woman who, when faced with their own mortality, tries desperately to seek Him, only to find our doors shuttered?

     And I understand our brothers and sisters around this town, this diocese, this country and the world are wrestling with such questions?  Is God’s love better demonstrated by keeping the doors shut and protecting the flock, or is it better demonstrated by doing the work He has given us to do, even in the midst of a pandemic, even if it may cost the lives of some in the flock or those whom the flock seeks to serve?  There are no easy answers, and it is precisely for things like this that He came and dwelt among us, that we might answer for ourselves that question that comes with such wrestling: He is among us!  He will be glorified!  In every plague that has hounded humankind, He has been glorified.  He will be glorified in all our prayerful responses to His call on our lives, even if, to outsiders, they seem contradictory or wrong.

     That, of course, brings us to the question raised by the Samaritan woman.  Where is the right place to worship?  What is the right way to worship God?  For the woman, the question was not academic.  Jacob gave them the well at which she and Jesus meet.  The covenant passed through the line of Jacob directly.  Why should their worship and service be excluded in favor of the Jews?  Jesus reminds the woman that God’s Covenant meant that salvation came through the Jews. I mean, it’s rather a given, right?  Jesus is Jewish.  He is the Son of David come to establish the throne.  He is the ultimate seed of Abraham’s faith.  How does the woman respond?  She knows the Anointed is coming who will make all things known.  And Jesus tells her that He is the Anointed One.  God responds to all who call upon Him in spirit and truth.  But why do we gather here for this worship when so many are cancelling services?  Could not God bless us if we stayed at home in our pajamas and prayed the Lord’s Prayer?  Of course, He could!  But we are Anglicans, we are a liturgical people, and for us that has a particular meaning.

     Each one of us gathered here today, I believe, has been confirmed, believer’s baptism to use the language of another tradition from which many of us were raised.  That means we all went through a catechesis class and can answer this fundamental question: what is a sacrament?  Great.  An outward sign of an inward and spiritual grace.  Your teachers would be so proud of you.

     What is the outward sign of baptism?  Bingo!  Water.  You can turn to the baptismal liturgy, if you want, but what do we believe is happening as a result of the water being poured over our heads?  Yes, the Holy Spirit comes and stays with us.  Great answer.  But think a little before it.  As I or any priest or bishop pours the water, what do we say?  You memorize that or are you reading from the liturgy?  True, I did say you could look.  We do the Thanksgiving over the Water.  In that prayer, we remind ourselves that water has figured prominently in creation and in redemption.  Over it the Holy Spirit moved in creation; through it He led Israel from the bondage of slavery.  In it, Jesus was Anointed by the Holy Spirit as the Christ, to lead us from the bondage of sin and death.  Sound familiar?  Good.

     We go on to remind ourselves that in water we are buried in Christ’s death, by water we share in His Resurrection, and through that water we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.  Then I or another clergy prays that God sanctifies the water that those being baptized may be cleansed from sin and be promised a share in Christ’s inheritance, right?  Why do we use the water?  Couldn’t we use any liquid?  Couldn’t we metaphorically use water, like pretend it is there but it not really be?

     It’s because matter matters.  One of the great counter-cultural teachings of God’s people throughout the ages was that He created everything and pronounced it good.  It is our sins, and the consequences of our sins, which causes things like plagues and poisons to spring up.  In the beginning, we were gardeners.  We tended His garden.  There was no thought of exploitation or misuse or anything bad, until we decided we would not trust Him.  We use matter in our liturgies because God taught or instructed us to do just that.  Would God honor an emergency baptism in the desert with no water?  I would expect so.  But we have to think of extreme cases; we come up with the exceptions to the norm which was passed down generation from generation among His people.  What were His instructions?  Go and baptize!  The sacrament of baptism is important to us because it reminds us that He has covenanted with us and that this, all this around us, is not what He intended.  We have marred His glorious creation rather than stewarded it.

     What of the Eucharist?  For what does the bread stand?  That’s right, His Body.  Which was what?  Broken for us?  What about the wine and the water?  That’s right, they are the blood and water which flowed from His side when pierced by the spear, demonstrating to us that the He truly died.  Why don’t we use other symbols, why do we not use different matter for the Eucharist?  Because the matter matters.  Our Lord did not suggest we use bread and wine.  Our Lord did not say that we should use something that seemed good to us.  No, He commanded and instructed that Maundy Thursday long ago that we use those symbols to remember His sacrifice, death, and resurrection.  We rightly call it a Eucharist, a thanksgiving, because He accomplished for us what we could not accomplish for ourselves.  When we chew that bread and drink that wine we understand that we are chewing His flesh and drinking His blood.  And in that act, we are the recipients of His grace and mercy and the benefits of His Passion.

     But there is more.  Where does this take place?  In the community of believers.  We gather.  One of our promises to God at our baptism and confirmation is that we will continue to gather for the prayers, for the worship, of God.  Chiefly, we liturgical Christians who call ourselves Episcopalian or Anglican give thanks via the Eucharist.  Each and every time we eat that Flesh and drink that Blood we are reminded that Christ died for us, that Christ was raised from the dead that glorious Easter morning, and that He will return to claim what is His!  By virtue of that sacrament, you and I are encouraged, you and I are strengthened, You and I are nourished, you and I are prepared for the work that He has given us to do outside these walls because we are reminded of His promises and of His unique and sovereign grace and power to redeem all suffering!

     That fortifying takes place among other believers, among other real people.  Yes, when we eat and drink we participate in a celebration that transcends time and space, but that holy mystery is rooted in our gathering and sharing, in and among us Adventers.  I or other clergy take that bread, bless it, break it, and give it to you.  And what do you do?  You acknowledge the words The Body of Christ.  The Bread of Heaven. And what they mean to you and to those around you.  You then eat it.  You chew on it—physically and spiritually.  And then what?  You are offered the chalice, the cup.  The Blood of Christ.  The Cup of salvation.  Make no mistake, it is not the cup from which He drank.  Ours is much easier.  In that drinking, though, we are reminded that He shed His blood that we might be cleansed from our sins.  Because He drank of His Cup, we are made righteous before God, and we celebrate that act one with another.  And we are reminded that we can each drink from those cups that glorify Him, we can each bear our crosses that lead others to Him!

     Am I wanting to trash those of our tribe who are trying “Virtual” Eucharists or other alternative types of worship?  Of course not.  They are responding to God as they feel called.  They recognize a need to do things as normally as possible even in an abnormal time.  As do we.  I would, naturally, argue with my Episcopal/Anglican colleagues about the need, as Archbishop Cranmer covered this nearly six centuries ago; I recognize also that some colleagues would argue the need for a pastoral exception in their locale.  I have zero doubt that folks will be blessed by God’s grace during those online worship services.  But, I also recognize that we serve a God who came down from heaven and became fully human.  We celebrate Christmas because the Creator of heaven and earth took upon Himself our marred, fleshy nature.  He walked among us.  He taught among us.  He fed us.  He healed us.   He raised us.  And then He blessed and empowered and sent us to do likewise in the world.  We gather as a congregation today not ignorant of the dangers, not as a group of mad martyrdom-seeking worshippers, but as a group that is doing its absolute best to remind the world that THIS, all this associated with the plague, is not best that it gets, that THIS is a perversion of what our Lord intended and for what He died, that we might become a nation of priests, a host of lights pointing to the Light of Christ in the darkness, that they might turn and be saved.

     Brothers and sisters, you know my background and my love of things ancient and of history in general.  Many of you have shared your love of history with me.  Through how many plagues has the Church survived?  Through how many natural disasters has the Church survived?  Through how many economic strains has the Church survived?  Through how many bad civic leaders has the Church survived?  Through how many bad clergy leaders has the Church survived?  All of them!  And guess what, She will survive this threat, too, because He has promised.  He has promised that where as few as two or three are gathered in His Name, He will be in the midst of them.  We, and all our brothers and sisters, are far more than just two or three.  And we know, we absolutely know by virtue of the grace and benefits of those two sacraments, we have nothing to fear, that we are free to love and serve others in His Name.  He will be present in our serving.  He will be present in our suffering, both from the effects of the virus and all the consequences we cannot even begin to name this morning.  He will be present even in our deaths.  Through all those evil times, even through the valley of the shadow of death, He will be consoling us, strengthening us, encouraging us.  And if, at the end, these bodies are crushed by the effects of this virus, it will be He who calls our names and tells us to get up or to rise and enter that which has been prepared for us since the beginning of Creation!  We will know His voice and we will answer and obey.  Such is His promise to us, a promised He proved capable of keeping by His Incarnation, His Death, His Rising, and His Ascension—the Truth to which all these things and even our gathering point!

In His Peace,

Brian†

It's not up to us . . . thanks be to God!

     Just for the record, or a gold star as they like to joke in Bible Study classes around here, Anoosh got really close to getting everyone out of a homily at the early service, and Gregg would have had I made the same deal with 10:30am.

     A couple Adventers have complained the last year or so that I do not preach much from the book of Romans.  I have been asked if there is a reason I avoid it.  Just to remind everyone, I only avoid teaching a class on revelation, and that due to wise counsel when I was in seminary.  When there have been readings from Romans, though, I must have felt called to preach on the Old Testament reading, the Psalm, or the Gospel lesson.  It’s not that I was avoiding Romans when it came up.  I simply felt we needed to spend our time in another of the assigned readings.  That being said, this is a week where I was obviously called to our readings from Romans.  It is all about faith, and it serves as a wonderful counterbalance to the anxieties which are plaguing us (that’s a dad-joke worthy pun) now.

     Anxieties are much on my mind.  It began a week ago Thursday.  An Adventer had taken seriously my call, on behalf of the Church, to enter into a holy Lent and take on a discipline that would re-orient them, they hoped, toward God.  Our brother or sister was . . . disappointed in an early discovery.  There was some anxiety in their mind or heart that they were failing and disappointing God, so they wanted to talk.  I have since had a couple more conversations very much like that first one.  In this season of introspection, in this season where we evaluate our lives, our focus, our sins, it is only natural that we spend significant time on our failings or perceived failings.  That, naturally, presents us with some anxiety.  Sometimes, the Enemy whispers we are the special one, we are the one outside God’s grace because we did whatever it is that we did, that God could not possibly forgive us for doing that particular sin.

     Good, I see a couple nods.  Y’all understand that internal anxiety.

     Of course, things picked up Tuesday morning, or late Monday night.  A tornado blew through Nashville, nearly following the trail of the last one, wiping out houses, apartments, businesses, and, unfortunately, lives.  As it went east, it got stronger.  From west of Ashland City to, I think, Cookeville, there’s a trail of destruction, increasing in strength as you go east and up the plateau.  I do not know anyone who does not know anyone who was unaffected by the storm.  We know people who live in East Nashville or further east.  Heck, the Taylor’s and Obang and the bishop, in particular, were in the possible path.  Much of Tuesday and Wednesday was spent assuring people that Adventers were ok, that our churches escaped much damage, and telling people how they could help address the needs.  Hilary and Nancy ended up coordinating our food and other material goods response.  They are continuing that work, and you will hear more about it during the announcements.  The bishop, for his part, shared even his anxiety and family system with Bishop & Council.  He’s dealt with a hurricane, a flood, and now a tornado, as a member of the clergy.  And, loving, teasing brothers being loving, teasing brothers, was reminded there were only ten plagues in Egypt!

     You are laughing now.  Poor Bishop John.  As Gregg will attest, Bishop John’s brother is very active in the Roman Church.  Imagine your active Roman brother asking you if you think Someone is trying to send you a message at the crack of dawn on Tuesday morning!

     As if tornados do not cause enough anxiety, we got our first coronavirus case this week in Williamson County, too.  That means the “civilization ending” plague is here!  And there seems to be no direct line.  They think the guy got it at Logan Airport.  But they are not sure.  He did not go to Wuhan or speak with anyone who did.  But it’s here.  We have to deal with it.  We are an aging congregation, like many Episcopal congregations.  We have aging members with underlying health issues.  That’s a double risk.  So we need to pay attention.  We need to care so we don’t put a fellow Adventer at risk of contracting the disease from us and getting them to the throne of mercy sooner than we or they or their loved ones would like, right?

     And, as if the virus and tornado and beginning of Lent were not enough, now we have market meltdown.  401’s and IRA’s and crazy money accounts were crushed this week.  For some folks, this will hugely impact their standard of living.  If it continues, though, for an extended period, we will all be working until we drop dead.  Anxiety is real.  Anxiety is real within these walls and on steroids outside these walls.

     Thankfully and mercifully, God has something to say about anxiety.

     But what He has to say is perhaps not what we would like to hear.  First and foremost, there is nothing wrong with anxiety to a point.  In my conversations with some Adventers, but especially with those of other denominational affiliations outside these walls, there is whisper that anxiety equals sin, that if you are worried about something, it is an indictment against your faith, proof your faith is wanting.  I see the nods.  We all know those Christians.  If you really believed in God you would not be worried.  I thank God for whatever happens to me because I know it is all part of His plan for my life.  Skubala. 

     Worry or anxiety is simply a sign that we care about someone or something.  Should it or they be cared about more than God?  Absolutely not!  But we are called to care for others especially.  Some of those who will not be here in the coming weeks will be avoiding us for fear of catching the virus because their underlying health issues put them at a greater risk of mortality.  They want to live, so they avoid situations that put them at risk.  I’m the professional Christian, right?  I’m the one who should be most assured of the eternal destination of my soul of all of us, right?  You will NOT find me playing hopscotch on I-65 on any sunny afternoon.  I value my life.  I love my wife and my children.  I want to grow old with Karen and watch my children grow up, get married, and have their own children just like them, so they can see why I have so much grey now!

     Some of us, in our cares, have loved ones who are at greater risk of dying from the disease.  There are Adventers who we may not see for a few weeks because they do not want to risk transmitting the virus to another at-risk individual.  That seems a great way to love a neighbor, to do your best to keep them safe.  Now, I understand some may use the virus as an excuse to sleep in or play golf or shop or whatever, but that is a matter between them in God.  For those who are keeping others safe, however, there is nothing for which to repent.

     Of course, I have skirted around the issue of the relief for our anxieties, around God’s instruction and balm when it comes to anxiety.  As we learn from the letter to the Romans today, what saves us?  Correct.  Faith saves us.  But Whose faith?  No, it is not our faith that saves us; it is the faith of Christ Jesus that saves you and saves me.

     I see the stunned looks, so we need to have a bit of instruction, a la Romans.  What is your only role in your salvation and redemption?  The right answer is something along the lines of placing your trust in Jesus, or, to use the words of the Gospel this morning, believe in Him.  Believe in Who He is.  Believe in what He said.  Believe, as John says this morning, that He came not to condemn you or me or anyone else in the world, but to save us.  Sound right so far?

     Then, where does God ever say the depth or confidence of your faith is what saves you?  In fact, when Jesus describes belief in Him He compares it to what seed?  A tiny mustard seed.  Nearly a thistle.  When Jesus is confronted by those who want Him to help their unbelief, does He condemn them?  Of course not!  The only bit you and I play in our salvation is the decision to serve or fight God.  That is our free will.  Everything else depends on God!  Specifically, everything else depends the faith of Jesus.

     Think about it.  Last week, we read about the messianic temptations.  What were Satan’s temptations?  Satan offered Jesus an easy path to power and authority.  He did so diabolically with the “If you are the Son of God” lead in’s, but Satan’s offer was to get Jesus off the obedient road that leads to Calvary.  Why?  Do you think Jesus wanted to die any more than you or me?  Of course not!  He sweats blood.  He begs the Father to let the cup pass.  He values His life, but He understands He is doing the will of the Father to save us!  But He has anxiety about His work, His calling.

     One of those last temptations we will consider in a few weeks comes as He hangs dying on the Cross.  We join in the throng taunting Him, “If You are the Son of God, come down.”  The crowd has no idea how diabolical that temptation is.  Jesus has to will to stay on that Cross for you and for me and for every single person that has lived and will live on the face of the earth.  If He thinks, as we often do when we are hurting, “I want this over,” it ends!  He has to remain focused on His purpose, the Father’s will, and His love of us.  It’s part of the reason He rejects the sour wine and myrrh.  He cannot be numbed or distracted.  He must will Himself to hang there, to die there, to accomplish that for which He came down!

      And it His faith which saves us!  It is His utter trust in His Father that makes our salvation possible.  He does what we cannot do, that we might be with Him for all eternity.  But make no mistake, brothers and sisters, it is His faith which saves you and save me.  It is His faith upon which all salvation history depends!

     If you think about it, as shocked as some of you appear, it makes sense and is glorious.  What is our faith was responsible for saving us?  How would we measure it?  How would we test it?  What assurance could we have?  If you uproot a mulberry tree and it plants in the ocean, you’re assured of salvation?  Of course not.  Such tests would result in something being due us, being owned to us because of our work or knowledge or deeds of power.  As the author says, if the heirs of Abraham are those who keep the law, then faith is null and the promise is void.  We become, in other words, responsible for our own salvation, and we know there is no hope in that!  Who here truly thinks they could pass a test required by God?  Who here thinks they could keep to the plumb line of righteousness?

     Good.

     But think of the seductive plea that we are responsible for our salvation.  Look at prosperity gospellers.  What is their message?  It is your own fault if you are suffering.  If you are not healed, it is your lack of faith.  If you are not blessed, it is your own lack of faith or trust in God.  You withheld your trust, so He withholds His blessings.  It’s diabolical, not Gospel!  Jesus’ faith saves.  Jesus’ faith blesses.  Jesus’ faith assures us that we are inheritors of God’s promises.  All we do is trust that Jesus is Lord.  That’s it.  It’s His faith that makes grace available to us.  It’s His faith that makes the benefit of His passion, death, and Resurrection available to us!

     Once we learn that, what happens to our anxiety?  Once we truly learn and inwardly digest that our salvation is really up to Christ Jesus, what happens to us?  We are transformed.  We become a people who can face the challenges of life, a people who can face even the threat of death, with that peace that passes all understanding.  We are freed to do the work He has given us to do because we recognize true failure is impossible.  Either we will accomplish the work He has given us to do and He will be glorified in our lives; or He redeems our failures, and He is glorified in that redemption!  We recognize the truth of His promise that His yoke is easy and His burden is light because He’s done the heaving lifting!

     We can tend those suffering from the effects of the plague and know that, if God has called us to lay down our life in service of Him, He can give it back to us in fulfillment of His promises.  We can tend those suffering from the effects of a crashed market or staggered economy because we know the Lord, the Creator of all that is, seen and unseen, calls into existence those things we need to glorify Him in our lives.  We can tend those around us suffering from anxieties by reminding them the Lord knows our fears, knows our hurts, and promises us He will be with us to the end of the age, that no suffering, no pain, will be felt apart from Him.  We can even tend those in our lives who do not believe, by living our lives as if we believe our salvation depended on the faith of Christ Jesus.  As they watch us pass through valleys of death and the other shadowy places of life, we testify to them our belief in His faith!

     Brothers and sisters, I understand the anxieties are real.  Some of us are struggling with individual anxieties.  Each of us brings to this service those fears, those worries, and those doubts.  Most of us are struggling with anxieties resulting from the virus, including the market sell-off.  Some of us may even be struggling with anxieties surrounding our own possible deaths.  What happens to my loved ones if I die?  The reminder this day, my friends, is that He has already overcome the world.  We may be in a season of introspection, a season of self-examination, but we are in that season on this side of the Empty Tomb!  We are a people who believe that God has already begun His honoring of His Son for His faith, and that our faith in Him assures us that we, too, will magnificent day be glorified with Him.  And it is that promise, that hope, and that assurance that we gather this day and every day to give thanks to the Lord for the work He has done in us through Christ and for the work that is yet to come!  So, name your anxieties.  Share them with your friends and loved ones and brothers and sisters.  Own them!  Take prudent precautions to protect those whom you love.  But above all, remember the anxieties which He overcame as He walked this path that lead to rejection, to humiliation, to dishonor, to torture, and to death!  And remember, my dear friends, that He accomplished for us what we could not do ourselves, all because He loved you and loved me.

In His Peace,

Brian†