Labor Pains

Romans 8:12-25

I sat with a woman who was preparing for knee replacement surgery. She shared her fears about how difficult and painful the recovery would be. I couldn’t tell her it wouldn’t be. Still, she tried to find the bright side: “they say it’s like childbirth. I’ll forget the pain later.”

I asked, “Did you forget that labor hurts? Because I sure didn’t.” Like it or not, the memory of pain stays with us and it shapes us.

And the ways it shapes us are revealed in the ways we choose to live our lives.

I overheard a mother once give dating advice to her teenager: “Always break up with him before he has a chance to break up with you.” Because if you can beat him to the punch, no one will ever have a chance to break your heart. There it is: the lie that pain is not necessary. But what happens when we try so hard to avoid pain?

Some friends, Carrie and David, once told me about a time when they tried to be friends with some people who didn’t want that. Carrie and David had just moved to town, and they met a couple they enjoyed being with. They had struck up a conversation somewhere, and realized they had a lot in common. But when Carrie and David invited this couple to dinner, they said no, thank you, we don’t want to make any new friendships.

That sounded pretty weird, but they had an explanation. In the kind of work they were in, they said, people come and go, they move on to other jobs in other cities. They decided that they did not want the pain of having to say goodbye to friends when they moved away. Their solution was to not make any more friends.

What happens when we try to avoid pain? When we try to avoid pain, we end up avoiding life.

Still, we keep trying. I know a man, Roger, who said when his daughter was born that he was going to put her in a bubble and keep her there until she grew up and was ready to get married because he didn’t want her to ever suffer any pain. And Roger didn’t want to experience the pain of watching her in pain. He was joking, but only sort of.

If there really was a foolproof method of avoiding any and all pain and suffering; if there was a pill, with no side effects, that would guarantee a pain-free life; I wonder how many of us would take it.

There was a woman I knew who was in recovery for substance abuse. The journey of recovery is very long and there are no shortcuts. She was in and out of rehab programs, tried and failed to stay sober many times – until she finally got the help she needed. Rehab, again, followed by a halfway house program, and a real commitment to her journey of recovery. She celebrates every year the day she entered rehab for the last time.

In one conversation, I heard her say something I will always remember, something that revealed an important truth about addiction, and about life: that since she has been learning how to live drug-free, she has felt more fully alive. She has laughed and actually felt it; she has cried and actually felt it. She has grown and succeeded, and also at times she has failed, and was able to feel all of it.

Addiction tells you, “You don’t have to feel any pain.” But it is a lie.

It’s a lie that many of us are drawn to, including non-addicts, because we are always looking for ways to avoid pain. We have ways of distracting ourselves, anesthetizing ourselves, protecting ourselves from the pain and suffering of life.

If there was a foolproof way of avoiding pain, I suspect that many of us would take it. I think the Apostle Paul also might have taken it.

By the time he wrote this letter to the Romans, Paul had experienced a lot of pain. He wrote in his letter to the Philippians that over the years he had learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. Everywhere he went he had submitted to being fully dependent on the mercy of God, trusting in God’s grace and the hospitality of strangers. Doing that thing that we talk about a lot but find very hard to actually put into practice: letting go and letting God.

But you know, he had not always been that way. We know a few things about the man Paul from the stories written about him in the book of Acts. At one time in his life, Paul was a man who intentionally inflicted pain on others. Why? So that he would not ever have to experience his own pain of uncertainty or doubt.

Back then, Paul was called Saul. He was a man of conviction, a man full of certainty, and when he encountered the apostles of Jesus Christ, he made it his mission to eradicate them from the face of the earth because they carried a message that would turn his steadfast, long-held beliefs upside down and inside out. This was more pain than he could bear.

Saul was there when one of these apostles, Stephen, found himself surrounded by an angry mob – a mob who, I imagine, had the same kinds of fears that Saul did. But Stephen didn’t run, he wasn’t silenced. At the risk of his own life, Stephen spoke his truth. Then, under the watchful eye of Saul, the mob dragged Stephen out of the city to stone him to death. Saul stood and watched over the brutal stoning of Stephen. He watched, and he approved.

After that, Saul journeyed on to Damascus, because he had heard there were more like Stephen there. He was eager to arrest them and bring them back to Jerusalem for trial. The story in Acts says that he was breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord. So fearful was Saul of uncertainty, so fearful was he of anything that would threaten the beliefs he had committed himself to. So fearful, he was willing to kill to avoid that pain.

It was on this journey, though, when everything changed. For the first time, on the Damascus road, he heard the voice of Jesus, saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He was knocked to the ground, helpless. For three days, Saul was stricken with a kind of blindness so that he could learn to see in a new way.

After this he was a new man, with a new name and a new mission. Paul was no longer afraid. From this point on, he lived his life for the sake of Jesus Christ and his love for the world.

From this point on, Paul knew that he was more than willing to suffer for the sake of the gospel, because he now had something new, something more powerful than that certainty he had carried for so long: hope.

Hope might not sound like much. It sets its sights on things unseen, unknown. As Paul says, something is hoped for if it is not yet. And I am sure that when we are tallying up our assets, we don’t count hope among them.

But we are talking here about the hope that is born of faith, and that is a peculiar thing. This hope is not a mere desire; it is not desperation. This hope is a gift of the Holy Spirit, a gift that gives us the ability to see and to know the possibility of a world beyond what now exists. To see, ever so slightly, through the eyes of God.

Hope is the thing that moves us forward. None of the prophets would have been able to carry their message out into the world without hope. Dr. Martin Luther King would not have been able to get up again and again and tell about his dream if not for hope; no one who has devoted their lives to fighting for justice could do it without hope. None of us would be able to do so many of the things we do, large and small, if not for hope.

It gets us up in the morning. It brings us here to join our hope with the hope of others. Hope brings us out to plan a vacation Bible school, to pack up food in weekend backpacks for schoolchildren in need, to cook meals for the hungry, to gather essential supplies for the homeless. It makes us pick up the phone and call someone who just lost a loved one, or someone who has just lost their home.

Hope is the reason we go to the meeting, so we can be there for someone who is just starting down this road of recovery and desperately needs us to hold their hand as they begin this journey.

The mother who has hope can lend her strength to her teenager who is getting their heart broken for the first time. The father who has hope can walk beside his child who is experiencing the inevitable pains of growing up. Hope is the strength we all need to walk through the hardships of life and never lose sight of the truth. It allows us to see visions and dream dreams, to stand up and, in our words or our actions, proclaim our bold belief in a world that is waiting to be born.

Knowing that the pain and sufferings of this time are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed.

Hope is the thing that makes us better.

Hope in the midst of pain, like a woman in the throes of childbirth, knows there is something beyond what can be seen. And hope is what will get us there. 

Photo by Alicia Petresc on Unsplash

In Search of Easy

 

Matthew11:16-19,25-30

Here is a parable from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. In the beginning, before God began creating the world, time was eternal. Then God began dividing time into seven days. With every day, a new realm of things came into being, by God’s word. This was true for six days. But on the seventh day, nothing came into being. And the seventh day was lonely.

What was this like? It may be compared to a king who has seven sons. To six of them he gave his wealth and to the seventh he gave nobility. So the six older sons went out and found mates, but the seventh noble one remained alone. And so it was with the creation of the days.

The seventh day said to God: to every day of the week you have given a mate; only I have been left alone. And God answered: Israel will be your mate. And so it is. The sabbath is given to the people of Israel.

We know the commandment: remember the sabbath and keep it holy. And sometimes we squirm uncomfortably about that. Because we have – in one way or another – been taught all kinds of uncomfortable things, rules, about keeping the sabbath.

I have heard about playgrounds where the swings have been chained together on Sundays, because it is unlawful to play on the sabbath. Some of us have memories of childhood where the expectation was to be in church all day on Sunday, and of course that meant being on your very best behavior. All the live-long day. Not an easy thing for a kid.

Many of us remember “blue laws” that kept businesses closed on Sundays – and sometimes we say how much we miss those laws. Although I do see an awful lot of church people at the supermarket on Sundays.

Our problem with keeping sabbath, I think, is that we think of restriction rather than freedom. We think of dreariness rather than joy. We think of thou shalt not rather than let there be.

The Rabbis of Jesus’ day were diligent about spelling out the rules for things like sabbath restrictions, and on the list of things “thou shalt not” do were walking, carrying things, writing, lighting a candle, and apparently even providing compassionate care, which is something Jesus ran into when he healed a woman on the sabbath.

And maybe we are confused, because why would our God of love and life put chains on us? Why would the God who frees people want to enslave us to sabbath?

I wonder, sometimes, if the first-century Jews would have been asking themselves similar questions. I wonder if they grew irritated with strict rules about this one day of the week and thought to themselves: Is this necessary?

Is it really necessary for me to run around like a crazy fool all Friday afternoon trying to outrace the sun, because if I don’t get all of the sabbath preparations done before sunset I’ll be in big trouble? Is it really wrong for me to do certain things on the sabbath – important things?

And then Jesus came out, saying: take my yoke upon you and I will give you rest.

The Rabbis were the teachers of Israel. They would gather students who learned from them and followed their teachings – these were their disciples. A Rabbi’s disciples were said to have taken on the yoke of their Rabbi.

And some of these yokes were hard, cumbersome, heavy. And not life-giving, as one would hope for. But Jesus says: My yoke is easy.

And that is really the point of the sabbath. A day in which we step away from the hardness of the world and step into the realm of God.

With these words, Jesus is encouraging us to let go. “My yoke is easy, my burden is light.” Let go of the burdens you insist on carrying. Remove the yoke to which you have attached yourself, the yoke that is hard, burdensome. Take my yoke upon you.

Jesus says, “My yoke is easy.” But that becomes hard when we are unwilling to remove the other yokes, the ill-fitted yokes, the burdensome yokes of this world. The ease that Jesus offers comes from moving away from, letting go of, the burdens of the material world.

I read from Rabbi Heschel that when the Romans were first introduced to the laws and customs of Israel they were appalled by this reverence toward sabbath. They called it laziness. The only way they could understand, and maybe accept, the practice of sabbath was to see it as a necessary rest that was built in to their lives for the sake of being most effective when they returned to their work. That is, to see the sabbath in service to work.

But that is getting it backwards and getting it backwards is completely missing the point. The sabbath day is not a pause in our frantic working weeks. If that is so, then we are wearing the yoke of the world of stuff. We are still enslaved to the world of productivity. And how can we be fitted with the yoke of Jesus when we are still wearing that burdensome, heavy, ill-fitted yoke?

The Romans didn’t understand it, but the Rabbis did, and they tried hard to protect the sabbath. The problem was when they outfitted it with too many rules and restrictions of their own. I suppose they didn’t really believe that it could possibly be easy.

The same is true today, when we weigh down Jesus’ perfect yoke with lots of extra rules.  I have seen people walk into our sanctuary then walk out because they heard something they did not like, some element of our worship that, in their minds, didn’t follow the rules. They might say that our faith is too worldly, too easy. But perhaps their yokes are too heavy, ill-fitted, binding rather than freeing.

Jesus knew then, and knows still, that many people will refuse his yoke. They will find it inadequate, imperfect, not exclusive enough. As he says in these first verses, there will be no pleasing them; they will find fault in whatever he does. But he is still offering the easy yoke, the light burden, to everybody. Even all the whining children…even us.

It’s not any wonder that we whine and complain. These things are not easy for us to understand. What Jesus is offering us is a glimpse of the eternal, a little bit of heaven when we slip into his yoke. Whenever we consecrate a day, or even a moment, this is what we are offered: a little bit of heaven on earth.

The sacrament of communion is an example of just this: the sacredness of a moment. The elements, themselves, are less important than the act in the moment, the experience in time. When we celebrate the sacrament together, whether you are here in the room or in the livestream, we are entering into a moment of holiness together. We are entering into sacred communion with Jesus.

A little sabbath.

I know the resistance we feel to this. It’s really hard for us to turn away from our agendas and our worries, our to-do lists and our wants. Yet if we deny ourselves sabbath rest we are denying the very purpose of life: to touch the holy, if only for a moment.

You may not have the ability to fully immerse yourself in sabbath. But what if you tried it for a moment? For an hour? To slip off the yokes of the world and into the ease that Jesus offers.

It is always there for you, and that is the good news. You don’t have to make it. You don’t have to earn it or be good enough for it. His easy yoke is here now; you only have to let go.

And slip into it.

Photo by Clément Falize on Unsplash

Designing Love

Genesis 24:34-38,42-49,58-67

In the movie industry they have a phrase – the “meet cute.”  It is a term used to describe a scene in which the man and the woman meet each other for the first time, future lovers who don’t yet know each other. For example, when Gene Kelly jumps into Debbie Reynolds’ car in Singing in the Rain. When Hugh Grant spills orange juice on Julia Roberts in Notting Hill. When Claudette Colbert finds herself sharing a bus seat with Clark Gable in It Happened One Night. In countless romantic comedies there is a meet cute. And why not? Because even in real life there is the meet cute.

I love to ask people how they met their spouses – everyone has a story. Kim and I met in a restaurant where I was working. The man I was dating at the time, Doug, struck up a conversation with him at the bar and introduced us, and the rest is history. 

There is always an element of chance, of luck, in the story of “us.” 

But it is not just luck – there is also ingenuity, design. Sometimes it is there from the get-go, like Barbara Stanwyck in The Lady Eve. In the dining room of a cruise ship, she watches Henry Fonda in her compact mirror, waiting for him to walk her way, then slyly sticks out her foot to trip him. 

In life and in love we all need a little luck and a little design to find our way. Abraham’s servant needed both when he went out in search of a wife for Isaac.

If there is one thing we know for certain, it is that Isaac deserves to have something good come his way. After what he went through on Mount Moriah, the young man deserves to be comforted and loved. And so, in his final days, Abraham seeks to ensure that his son will not be left alone; that he will love and be loved. He asks his servant to swear that he will do this thing for him.

The servant set out with the intention of following Abraham’s instructions to the T. The details are left for him to figure out, however, so he designs a little plan. The first part is this: he will wait at the well for a young woman to come.

It is worth saying that, in the Old Testament, a well is often the site of a meet cute. When a man and a woman meet at a well it means that love birds will be singing. The servant is making a rather obvious choice when he chooses the well. Good for him.

The second part of his plan is this: he will wait for a young woman to approach the well, and if she offers to give him water, and also water his camels, she will be the one. It’s a clever design, isn’t it? On the one hand, it is a way of asking God for a clear sign – to show him the woman that God has chosen for Isaac. On the other hand, it is designed to ensure that, whether God is guiding this encounter or not, the woman he chooses for Isaac will be hardworking, generous, and hospitable.

And so, finding her, he proceeds on to her home, to speak with the men of the family, and here is where our reading begins. He explains his purpose and asks that Rebecca be allowed to be married to Isaac. The men agree to his request, and when she is asked, Rebecca does not hesitate to agree also. 

She has an adventurous spirit; she gamely says goodbye to her family and follows this stranger to a new land to meet the man who will become her husband. And, of course, they lived happily ever after. The end.

Yet – true to form, there are so many ways this could have gone bad. If no young woman who met his requirements had appeared at the well. If her kin had said no to the servant’s request. If Rebecca, herself had said no.

And once they returned home, there are more ways things could have gone wrong. If Isaac had not appreciated her. If Rebecca had not loved him. If there was no tenderness, no comfort in their union. Yes, it takes some design but it also takes some luck –

Or is it just luck? If there is one thing the scriptures tell us, from beginning to end, it is that God’s hand is in all things. And when something appears to be luck, might it actually be the designing hand of God?

The stories of our lives; when we look back on them, we might see that they are made up of various elements, patches of various colors, sizes, and textures. They include some of our own design, some of the designs of others with whom we cross paths, who have an impact on our lives, and the designs of God, who is ever present with us, through the ups and downs and meanderings of our days. 

From the beginning when God began creating this beautiful ordered world and made us co-creators with God; through the desert wanderings, years of barrenness while those who watch and wait might hear the message from God that they need to hear; through the scheming, through the struggles and difficult relationships when God manages to make something out of our messes in spite of us; through it all God’s creative Spirit is with us. Through our hopes and our fears, and the years of wondering what the heck we are doing, God’s creative Spirit is with us. Through our worst moments and the moments of our greatest faithfulness, God’s creative Spirit is right there with us, partnering with us, because there is always more creative work to be done.

And there is more creative work still to be done.

Photo: Author