Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 5, 2020              (today’s lectionary)
Unforced rhythms of grace
Don’t force me! I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything, I’m an American. What I see, what I hear, what I think will always be all I need.
Something about the day after our historical hysterics brings crud to my own surface. Please forgive me, Lord. Against you, you only have I sinned.
I do need you. Come to us riding on a donkey, a colt of the ass, because you are a man of peace and we have become a people at war, with others and mostly with ourselves.
But you, o my God, shall banish the chariot
You shall chasten the warhorse
The warrior’s bow will be extinguished and broken
What now, Savior King riding on an ass? If I would just turn my eyes away from my own self-interest and turn my eyes upon Jesus, I wouldn’t need to ask that question.
You proclaim peace to the nations.
To all nations, Lord? Can I grow out of being afraid when I wake up in the morning?
My dominion shall be from sea to sea.
I can begin to relax, from down in the core of my body out? Breathing may even become natural again?
You are my children all of you, from the River’s source even unto the ends of the earth
And I will never leave you.
And so my praise can lift over our rooftops, over our banquet tables prepared together with our former enemies, because now we sit down together and sing, smile, and actually taste the food. Your bounty has become our delight. In this sustenance we can together follow the blessing of your commands.
Be fruitful
Multiply
Care for, be responsible for
Everything in all the earth today tomorrow and forever
You have been gracious
You have been merciful
Slow to anger, even slow to anger, Lord!
You have been our source of kindness
Source of our love, joy, patience, peace
One of the favorite phrases of successful Civil War generals was “I propose to move immediately upon your works.” Twisting the psalmist’s words was he?
I will be compassionate upon all my works.
You will give thanks in this blessing
And speak in the evenings with the fires damped
Of how you were given not just quarter but the whole dollar!
Do not fear
I will give you the glory of my kingdom
For I am faithful to those falling and those bowed down.
Thank you God.
But let me tattle a little. Lord, Paul is being hard on me. “Put to death the deeds of your body.” He’s killing me!
Of course he’s right. Diet, sleep, drink a gallon of water a day … or not … do NOT kill yourself slowly, he might say.
But that’s not all. Stop your thoughts that lust and kill and steal and hoard, because they might erupt some days into subtly sinful actions – embarrassing an attractive person by my stare, a hateful glare, a cruel sarcasm. I might just forget to tell the checker about the stuff on the bottom of my shopping cart. And surely I will find it nearly impossible to part with anything, since I might need it someday.
There’s more. When I do not choose to do wrong, still over and over I fail to do good.
Oh! There is no end to the “deeds of my body.” But when I try to draw rein on all these deeds I so easily descend into scrupulosity, and I fall to pieces in that other way.
But I have to do something!
“Having scruples is kind of like having a conscience: your morals or scruples cause you to act in ways you think are right. The idea of scruples has to do with ethics and morality: what is right and wrong. If you had no scruples at all, you’d just kill, steal, cheat, and act in awful God-knows-what-else ways.” (www.vocabulary.com)
Paul, and Jesus, say this “kind of conscience” is no conscience at all, because it refers back only to my own judgment of myself, which is suspect at best. God has more to say about me than I can ever. And in fact, God works his miracle in me when I cannot. “Put to death the deeds of your body.” And that’s exactly what he does.
Jesus covers me with the compassion God is famous for (see above). Listen to his wonderful words calling me to rest.
Just stop!
Watch those kids that surround you every day. (And if they don’t surround you, find somewhere that they do surround you now and then.)
Come to me when you are exhausted from your work
I will give you rest
Take MY YOKE upon you (let us pull this load together down the road)
This man who rides an ass
Is meek and humble of heart
Trust me right here, right now and rest
Think and know that I am God
And my yoke is easy
Compassionate
And it will be light on your shoulders all day long
These words are wonderful, we know that full well. My dad Roland Sandel’s favorite song after “I’ll Fly Away” (which he did in peace) was “What A Friend We Have in Jesus.” Eugene Peterson’s too? Watching him grow older after his race was nearly run, his family watched him really begin to rest. “It was apparent that he was navigating the thin and sacred space between earth and heaven, speaking sometimes to people we can only presume were welcoming him into paradise.” Running earlier on that race Peterson wrote of Jesus saying,
Worn out?
Burned out on religion?
Come to me. Get away with me.
You will recover your life.
I’ll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me, work with me, watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
Listen, I promise I will never lay anything heavy on you
Stay with me, follow me, keep company with me, David (fill in your own name, please)
You will learn to live!
           (Zechariah 9:9-10, Psalm 145, Romans 8, Matthew 11)
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