Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

where it’s really hard to sort out

whether Jesus is trying to offer comfort to his hearers,

or to stir them up and make them uncomfortable.

He starts out in a way that is calming, full of promise:

"Do not be afraid, little flock,

for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

But the reading ends with a sense of warning …

"You also must be ready,

for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour."

Well, regardless of whether that makes you fearful or not,

it does suggest a constant heightened state of awareness.

High levels of stress hormones,

not relaxation in God’s care,

not comfort for the future.

Which one is it?

It would be nice to know, wouldn’t it,

since our own lives of faith are often trapped in

the same tension between

preparing for the future, and trusting it to God?

Last week’s lesson, you may recall,

introduced us to a rich man who thought he was being smart

by building bigger barns to store his huge harvest,

and so providing for his future.

Instead, he learns that he is to die instead,

and so his careful planning serves him not at all.

But the reverse also happens.

One of my good friends,

who goes on the Guatemala mission trips ever summer,

has always helped to finance her travel

with annual gifts that come from her grandmother,

who is gradually spending down her estate

by parceling it out among her grandchildren.

Except that, last year, the accountant said to her,

you know, it looks like you’re going to live longer than you expected.

It’s likely you’re going to need some of that money for yourself after all.

So quit giving it away,

or at least, give less of it.

So there was someone planning not to be around for a much longer time,

and learning that she’d better change that plan.

So what would Jesus do?

It seems like our journey of faith would be easier to make,

if Jesus would just give us simple steps,

simple guidelines, simple rules.

Instead, he leaves us with paradoxes like this.

Be prepared for the future.

Be prepared for the end.

It’s not surprising that, for some folks,

religious fundamentalisms seem like the way to go.

It’s simple;

there is no maybe, just yes or no.

There are no shades of gray;

it’s either thou shalt, or thou shalt not.

But there’s at least one problem with that.

God tried that once before.

The story of the Old Testament is, in part,

the story of God’s trying to give human beings rules

so that they could live together in community,

and treat one another properly,

and give honor to God.

Only the list of rules kept expanding,

and there’s always people clever enough to figure out

a way to do an end run around a rule they don’t like.

So that means, you have to create a new rule,

and pretty soon, you get something that looks like

the U.S. tax code,

or the Texas state constitution,

or the list of things your health insurance will and won’t cover,

or the 613 commandments in the Hebrew scriptures …

or the PC(USA) Book of Order.

It is not possible to make enough rules

to cover all the contingencies.

It is not possible to give specific, binding guidelines

that can possibly account for all the variations in human need and condition.

So what can we do,

muddling in the middle of the two poles of a paradox?

Be prepared for the future. Be prepared for the end.

Help us out here, Jesus.

But what Jesus gives us, in place of specifics,

is a vision.

"It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom," he says,

and with that promise, he invites us into a future

that is not of our own making.

And that, perhaps, is where we have to begin.

Giving up the fantasy, once and for all,

that we can control the future.

Plan for it, yes; control it, no.

Whatever it is that God has in mind for the universe,

for Dallas, for this congregation,

for each of us as individuals …

we have the choice to try to get with God’s plan

or to run in the opposite direction and hide,

but we don’t get to write the plan.

We get a vision,

and an invitation to join in.

In today’s particular passage,

we don’t get too many specifics about the vision,

just a warning to get on board.

But in other parts of the scripture we hear things about

how the wolf shall lie down with the lamb,

they shall not hurt or destroy in all God’s holy mountain,

the earth shall be full of the glory of God

as the waters cover the sea.

We hear about how the last will become first,

and the hungry will be fed,

and the mighty will be pulled down from their thrones.

We hear about a place where there is neither Jew nor Greek,

slave nor free, male nor female.

We hear about a God who actively goes out looking for

those who have become lost,

and welcomes them home with great rejoicing and a party.

And Jesus invites us to be prepared at every moment

for this vision to become a reality.

In a sense, he invites us even further

to live, here and now, insofar as we can,

as though this vision were already a reality.

To live as though the reign of God has already come,

even though it’s obvious that it hasn’t.

Which means that we get to use, or have to use, take your pick …

the mind, the reason, the conscience that God gave us.

Obviously, the last can’t always be first, here and now.

We can’t give the Olympic gold medal to the runner who comes in last.

(And imagine how bizarre that race would be,

if everyone were trying to go as slowly as possible!)

You can’t give the big promotion

to the least competent person in your office.

But you can be sure that that person is paid fairly,

and has enough to live on,

and is treated with the same respect and dignity as everyone else.

That’s a little hint of the reign of God,

in the midst of a world that often doesn’t play fair.

You probably can’t sell all your possessions

and use the money to give alms.

But there are very few of us

who don’t have more possessions than we need.

Can we sell some of them, and give alms?

Or can we give them away, to someone in need?

Can we own our "stuff,"

instead of letting it own us?

Another hint of the reign of God,

in a world where human beings seem to think that

everything that was created, was created for us to use up.

The future is God’s,

and we are not responsible for ushering in the reign of God.

That will happen in God’s good time,

perhaps even when we least expect it!

We are responsible for bearing witness to that future,

and for doing our small part to prepare a place for it

in the world as we know it now.

Knowing that when we fail, there is forgiveness;

and when we succeed, there is rejoicing.

Here is how our work is described

by one of my heroes in the faith,

Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero:

It seems to me that the only way beyond the paradox

of "be prepared for the future"; "be prepared for the end"

is to remember that the future belongs to God.

We belong to it;

it does not belong to us.

We bear witness to that future,

and align ourselves with it,

by the words we speak, the actions we take,

the choices we make.

And the vision of that future, and of how God wants things to be,

is what should guide the words we speak,

the actions we take, the choices we make.

We are the prophets

of a future not our own.

May we be faithful to, and joyful in, that calling.

Amen.

©2007 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org