Sure Confidence


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Sermon for the 20th Sunday after Pentecost1 6 October 2013

Emmanuel Church, Greenwood Parish (The Rev.) Christopher Garcia

Sure Confidence Wouldn’t it be nice to have greater confidence? Most of us like it when we know exactly how things are going to turn out, when life follows a clear plan. I know I like certainty. I want to control as many variables as possible, account for as many contingencies as I can, and then develop my plan and put in motion. While that may sound great, life is rarely that simple. In my own case, I was supposed to take possession of my new townhouse this past Tuesday, October first. So last weekend our son, Thomas, and a friend of his helped me load a rental truck with furniture and books and household goods. On Tuesday morning, I drove down from northern Virginia, all shiny and eager to get unloaded and to get going to start my new rectorship. Our junior warden had lined up some guys to help me unload. We were all set. I had a plan. I had a plan, that is, until I went to the rental agency after lunch on Tuesday to sign my lease and pick up my keys. It seems that there was a little problem with one of the mechanical systems elsewhere in the building, so the county was delaying occupancy. The rental agency said, We hope we can get you in on Thursday, Friday at the latest. Uncertainty crept in. So we adjusted our plan. Thursday came and went, no keys. That’s fine, we can unload the truck on Saturday morning, right? Friday came – and no phone call. Friday evening at 7:30 I learned that the final inspection wouldn’t take place until . . . Monday morning. We think. I hope. And although part of me knows that everything will work out, and I will get into my new house soon enough, I want certainty. I want to know what’s happening. I want certainty. And I want it now. So this has been an interesting week for me. And let’s face it. My uncertainty with my townhouse is really a rather piddling little problem. How about the uncertainty with our government? For the second weekend in a row, the legislative branch and the White House have Proper 22, RCL, Year C. Lamentations 1:1-6; 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17:5-10. “Almighty and everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.” 1

2 been trying to figure out how to get along and do the jobs we elected them to do. Thousands of people are unable to work. Children in some Head Start programs can’t go to school. People who live paycheck to paycheck are without that paycheck. The human cost of this shutdown is devastating. The uncertainty of the government shutdown is compounded by the looming specter of a greater government default on its debt. Our trust in our government is shaken. We all want to know what’s happening. We all want certainty. And we want it now. This search for certainty is nothing new. In our Gospel passage, we hear the disciples ask Jesus, “Increase our faith.” “Lord, increase our faith.” “Lord, we want to believe; help us.” “Lord, we want to trust, give us what it takes to trust.” Give us confidence, Jesus’ friends tell him. Help us believe. Lord, we want certainty. We can go back even further. Six centuries before Jesus, Babylon drove the best and the brightest of Hebrew society into exile and laid waste to Jerusalem, the glittering city upon Mount Zion. Tradition has it that the prophet Jeremiah wrote a series of poetic laments, grieving and mourning over the loss of beloved Jerusalem. These mournful poems are collected as the book of Lamentations, and we heard the opening verses as our first reading this morning. Israel is depicted as a weeping woman, old, mournful, debased. She is bereft. She has no confidence left. All hope appears to be gone. We find ourselves here today because like Jesus’ friends two thousand years ago, we cry out, “Lord, increase our faith.” Lord, we want certainty. Lord, we want to believe; help us. Lord, we want to trust, give us what it takes to trust. Give us confidence. Help us believe. When Jesus’ friends made this request, Jesus had a curious answer. Jesus told his friends, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” My first response when I hear this is a scene from Harry Potter. You may remember the scene when all the new students at Hogwarts are waving their wands, trying to get small objects to move. Say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. Please don’t try this carelessly when you step outside today – we don’t want to see all the greenery around the church transplanted willy nilly! But all joking aside, when we hear these words from Jesus, it’s hard not to hear “you’re just not trying hard enough.” So this passage provokes guilt. I want faith; I want confidence; I want assurance, but I don’t feel them. I don’t see results in my life. So I must not be trying hard enough. I must not be praying

3 enough. I must not be a good enough person. I must be doing something wrong. I don’t see any mulberry trees moving, so I must be a guilty failure. Jesus didn’t speak these words to his friends to provoke guilt. Jesus doesn’t speak these words to you and to me to make us feel inadequate. Jesus speaks these words out of love. Whatever tiny iota of longing for God you might feel – that’s enough! Even a little faith can do big things. Even this much, [tiny pinch] is enough. Our doubtful, hesitant attempt at faith, is enough. Even our brokenness, our imperfection, is enough, when we willingly offer them to God. Through Jesus Christ, God takes the mess of our lives, and uses them to work miracles. Even the desolation we heard in Lamentations, can orient us to the God who redeems and transforms. Faith, ultimately, is not our own. Faith is not something we do or can will. Faith, rather, is the work of the Holy Spirit, binding us to Christ. Faith is a gift. Faith is a matter of grace. We come here each week to offer up the little tiny mustard seeds of our faith – the brokenness of our lives, the successes and messes we have made since last Sunday, the little glimpses we might have had of God. Through the miracle of God’s redeeming work in Jesus Christ, what we have to offer is enough. Godwith-us, Emmanuel, takes what ever bits we can offer, and pours out his grace on us. Here in this place we find life. Here at this table we find life. Even as the bread is broken and the wine is poured out for us, we break ourselves open before God and offer up to God whatever we can of ourselves. God’s grace transforms us, just as God’s grace transforms simple bread and wine. Here we find our true confidence – not in governments, not in rental agreements, not even in new rectors or new calls. We find our confidence, our strength, our life, in Jesus Christ. Fed, reborn, we go out in faith, not with a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self discipline, joyful to do the work that God has given us to do, to love God and to serve God as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord. That’s a plan in which we can have confidence. That’s a plan we can live with. Amen.