Kathryn Greene-McCreight writes: at the center of our faith is, as we have seen, a relationship of trust and faithfulness before the presence of the Triune God in Jesus of Nazareth. The Christian Gospel has to do with living faithfully at the foot of the Cross even in a world filled with pain, vulnerability, suffering and darkness. Who would not stand quaking in one's boots from time to time before the Holy One of Israel? Who does not at some point dwell in the Valley of the Shadow?
As I have engaged in difficult and challenging discussions this week, I am constantly reminded or jolted into the reality that life really is a leap of faith and it is quite fragile. At many times prior to my current spiritual journey as a pastor, I avoided anything that looked like a leap into the unknown. After all, I come from good German and Irish heritage. We don't make leaps; instead, we plan, strategize, weigh, assess, debate, and then decide with care and precision. What if my life does not turn out neat and industrious?
There was a time when such thoughts petrified me. But, I guess I grow more radical with age. Or, perhaps just simpler. And this whole notion of letting go and letting God makes more and more sense. Now, I must confess that I have my anxiety filled moments. But, I do have an inner serenity that goes beyond the chaos or pressures of the moment. I know to whom I belong. I take great comfort in that like a child leaning into her parent.
The life of faith calls for radical trust: there is no getting beyond that. And that very emotion and state of being is not one supported by the currents of our world. Like grace, love, and salvation it seems to be a gift that is given not earned. I think of the once-popular credit card commercial where they lay out a series of costs and then at the end say "but this one thing____is priceless." Truly resting in the knowledge that God is in control is priceless.
In a sense, then, faith is like spiritual oxygen. As we allow faith to freely flow within us, it awakens and enlivens our spiritual senses. It breathes life into our very souls. As faith flows, we become sensitively attuned to the whisperings of the Spirit. Our minds are enlightened, our spiritual pulse quickens, our hearts are touched. Faith fuels hope. And hope changes our perspective; our vision becomes clearer. We begin to look for the best, not the worst, in life and in others. We gain a deeper sense of life's purpose and meaning.
How can we, in Lent, cultivate a deeper style of breathing in this spiritual oxygen, this new and invigorated life that the Christ calls us to live? How can we be agents of hope, a people of trust and transformation, in a world that is despairing in so many ways?
Today as we bury one of our long-time members at church this poem from Walter Brueggemann seems apt to honor a life lived fully in the impulse of God's mercy and grace:
There is a time to be born and a time to die.
And this is a time to be born.
So we turn to you, God of our life,
God of all our years,
God of our beginning.
Our times are in your hand.
Hear us as we pray:
For those of us too much into obedience,
birth us to the freedom of the gospel.
For those of us too much into self-indulgence,
birth us to discipleship in your ministry.
For those too much into cynicism,
birth us to the innocence of the Christ child.
For those of us too much into cowardice,
birth us to the courage to stand before principalities and powers.
For those of us too much into guilt,
birth us into forgiveness worked in your generosity.
For those of us too much into despair,
birth us into the promises you make to your people.
For those of us too much into control,
birth us into the vulnerability of the cross.
For those of us too much into victimization,
birth us into the power of Easter.
For those of us too much into fatigue,
birth us into the energy of Pentecost.
We dare pray that you will do for us and among us and through us
what is needful for newness.
Give us the power to be receptive,
to take the newness you give,
to move from womb warmth to real life.
We make this prayer not only for ourselves, but
for the church at the edge of life,
for our city waiting for newness,
for your whole creation,
with which we yearn in eager longing.
There is a time to be born, and it is now.
We sense the pangs and groans of your newness.
Come here now in the name of Jesus.
Amen.
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