PROPER 3A - Isaiah 49:8-16a; Psalm 131; 1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Matthew 6:24-34 - 25 May 2008

- A sermon preached by The Rev. Peter A. Munson for St. Ambrose Episcopal Church, Boulder, Colorado

 

Trusting in God’s Provision

 

I flew to Minneapolis on Monday for a preaching conference - the 16^th Annual Festival of Homiletics. Over 2,100 of us preacher-types were there. I started making my preparations several months ago. I registered for the conference on line and made my hotel reservation. I got back on line a couple of weeks ago and signed up for some particular “workshops”, which ended up having at least a 1,000 people in them. The night before I left, I called the hotel to find out if they had a shuttle that picked up people from the airport. They didn’t. But they told me I could pay $15 to ride in one of those airport shuttle vans, or I could pay $2 and take the light rail from the airport to a stop about six blocks from my hotel. To me, it was an easy decision.

 

I have been to Minnesota a number of times before. Some of my longest-standing friends, going back 30 years, live in Minnesota. One time, toward the end of seminary, Julia and I flew to Minneapolis so I could interview with a church there. Zach was just two months old. This was the first time I’d flown to Minneapolis by myself. I didn’t know they had this light rail until I called on Sunday night. I was excited for the conference. Some of the best preachers in the country were going to be there. Julia assured me that she was doing well enough after her surgery that I could go. But this little something was gnawing away at me a little bit. Would everything go smoothly with this light rail thing? Maybe I should just pay the $15 and have someone take me right to my hotel door, even if I might have to wait for other people to be delivered to their hotels first. No, that’s silly, I thought. I’m a big boy. I’m not even going to a foreign country. I’ve done a little traveling in my life. I can handle this.

 

This is one of the things about traveling that I’ve noticed. On the one hand, there is excitement and all kinds of anticipation about what great and fun things might happen. On the other hand, there is a certain baseline level of anxiety. What if I get lost? In a foreign country, especially, we think, “What if I can’t communicate with other people?” Everything, even the little things that we take for granted in everyday life, can suddenly be difficult, even overwhelming. How will I get around? Where will I eat? Will I be able to sleep in the hotel room, or will there be some noisy neighbor who doesn’t want to go to bed?

 

Jesus says to you and to me, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear.” If he were speaking today, he might add, “Do not worry about your life, how you will get around, whether there will be adequate signs for the ground transportation, or about your hotel room, and how you will sleep.” He then continues. “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them... Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field... will he not much more clothe you - you of little faith?”

 

“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ [or ‘Will there be clear signs directing me to the light rail station?’] For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (parts of Matthew 6:25-33)

 

WHEN IT GETS REALLY TOUGH...

You might say to me, “Peter, be real. You’re talking about finding the train station in Minneapolis! You’re talking about getting around in an American city that doesn’t exactly have a reputation for crime, but rather a Midwestern city that is more associated with Scandinavians and Lutherans and snow and hockey and Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion, for God’s sake!” And you’d be right.

 

But that’s the point, isn’t it? You and I find all kinds of things to worry about. You and I find all sorts of things to be anxious about. When we reach middle school, or even late elementary school, we’re suddenly very worried about what to wear, and how we look. In the lectio class last week, someone said in response to Jesus’ comments, “How many outfits did they have to wear? Weren’t they poor?” Someone else said, “It must have been more than one outfit. It must have been several, for Jesus to make this cultural observation.” How many different possible combinations of clothes do you and I have in our closets? We can start our day off, no matter what our age, with this dilemma. What will I wear? It goes from there. Who will get which kid to soccer practice, or to rehearsal? Who is picking them up? What is the price of gas going to be today? The stock market had a terrible week. Did you notice? Do you rush to the business section each morning and see what happened? Maybe you can’t wait that long! Turn to any number of TV channels at the end of the work day. Heck, you could monitor the ups and downs throughout the day, if you really wanted to.

 

You and I can find so many things to worry about. A few months ago, when I was with two of my sisters to celebrate one of their birthdays, my father was mentioned. It was interesting to me that one of the really strong memories that both of my sisters had was how much my father worried. I hadn’t thought about that for a while. They were right. My dad worried a lot. A lot of people who went through the Great Depression and World War II worried a lot. Fortunately, that’s not the only memory we have of our father - that he worried. But still, it’s worth asking yourself.... is that how I want to be remembered? Isn’t it worth asking... with all the huge problems that need addressing in the world, do we really have time to worry about the little things?

 

Jesus poses a question for all of us. “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” (Matthew 6:27) I wonder if Jesus knew what health professionals know now. If anything, worrying probably subtracts some hours from your life span.

 

Sometimes, much bigger things happen in our life, things that are much bigger than what we are to wear or what we are to eat or what might happen with the stock market on Tuesday.

 

We lose a job. We go through a divorce. We or someone we love gets diagnosed with a serious illness, or gets seriously hurt. Someone very close to us dies. Our house gets blown away by a tornado. A whole region of a country gets leveled by an earthquake, and thousands and thousands die. What then? Is Jesus saying to us, “Don’t worry; be happy!” I don’t think that’s what he’s saying here. I don’t think he’s saying that, because this passage has a context, and the context is not just the Sermon on the Mount, but the whole life of Jesus. When he saw people hurting... when he saw people in torment... when he saw people in deep grief (think of Mary and Martha when Lazarus died)... he responded. And that response always had the quality of a dear friend coming along and giving to them exactly what they needed in the moment - the right touch, the healing word, an emotion that mirrored what they were feeling.

 

Jesus isn’t saying anything like, “Life is no big deal. Just hum or whistle your way through it.” No. More than anyone, I think, Jesus was well acquainted with the pain and struggle that can enter into life. Right after he was born his parents and he had to run to Egypt to be safe, and it didn’t ease up very much after that.

 

This is a passage about not losing our perspective. Can we acknowledge that a lot of the things that we worry about are a waste of our breath and energy? I think we need to start there. Sometimes we need to stop... we need to catch ourselves and say, “What am I doing? Why am I worrying about this, of all things? I’ve got myself all tied up in knots about what I’m going to wear, for God’s sake!” By the time you’ve put on the third different shirt, or tied the tie three different times to get it just right, or tried on the third different dress, maybe it’s time to sit down on the edge of the bed and start laughing at yourself, and say, “Man, I’ve really hit a neurotic patch in my life today! God has got to be calling me to bigger things than this!”

 

And when the big things happen that do deserve our attention - when the divorce happens, or the illness comes, or we get laid off, or someone we love dies - it’s still about perspective. We’re tempted, even in those times when we are most out of control, to think that we’ve got to make it right somehow. We’re tempted to think and worry and think some more, and say, “What do I need to do here? What can I do to make this right? What decision do I need to make? How can I fix this and make it right?”

 

At such times, maybe the most important thing we can do is open the front door, and go for a walk. We might not have to go very far at all. Last month, when we got the terrible news about Julia’s cancer, at the very same time, the red tulips came up, just like they always do, right along our driveway. Neither Julia nor I planted these tulips. Someone else did. They’re already done blooming now. But on their glory days, when the sun is low in the sky, and they are backlit, and the sun shines right through their deep red petals, and they sway back in forth in the breeze, you see a little bit of the handiwork of God.

 

There is also a small lake not far from our front door. The kids and I have carried our canoe to its edge over the years, and put in, and paddled around in it. We’ve caught bass in it. Mostly though, we’ve just walked down to the lake, and walked around it.

 

Sometimes - some of the very best times - we stop, Julia and I, and we sit on one of the well-placed benches, and look out over the water, to a snow-capped Mt. Evans and Mt. Bierstadt. We see carp splash and tunnel their way through the cattails on the water’s edge. We listen to the familiar call of the red-winged blackbirds. We listen to the happy voices of the little children playing at the nearby playground, or splashing in the outdoor pool just a few yards away. Sometimes our eyes will catch a bass as it rockets itself completely out of the water, in pursuit of a fly.

 

Julia and I have been making short walks to the lake almost daily recently, so that she can get some exercise and build up her endurance. This spring, six large white pelicans have migrated to our little neighborhood lake - three breeding pairs. They have the flat, rounded plate on top of their yellowish-tan bills, which is “seen in breeding season only”, according to my bird book. When they take off in flight, you see the black tips of their wings, and what a wing span it is! Their huge bills make them strange-looking, even comical, but it is also true that they are magnificent, whether floating on the surface, or flying over the lake.

 

GOD IS WITH US

 

“Look at the pelicans,” Jesus says, “and also that pair of Canadian geese with their two fuzzy-feathered goslings, swimming right beside mom and dad, and getting bigger each day.” “Consider the tulips,” Jesus says, “and even though they are already gone, consider how they come up year after year; consider how radiant they our during those two or three weeks, and how you didn’t have anything to do with it. Consider how I feed the pelicans and the geese and the bass and the carp and the red-winged blackbirds and the flickers and all the rest. And then consider this: consider how I continue to make good on my promise, that I am with you, even to the end of the age. Consider my words in Isaiah, too, about how I could never forsake you, or forget you. Even if a mother should forget her nursing child, which isn’t likely, I could never forget you, for I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:14-16)

 

No matter what you go through, no matter what cities or countries you travel to, no matter what challenges you face, no matter how hard life seems to get, look at the birds of the air, and consider the lilies of the field. Your heavenly Father provides for them. It is no different for you. Your heavenly Father knows about every need that you have, whether that need is physical, emotional, relational, intellectual, or spiritual. Whatever your need is, the Lord knows it, the Lord is with you, and the Lord provides.

 

Do you feel trapped, as if you had Pharaoh’s army behind you and the Red Sea in front of you, and nowhere to go? Are you in the midst of a great storm, sort of like the disciples were in their boat in Galilee? Are you tormented by your past, similar to some of the people Jesus met as he made his way around Galilee, Samaria, the Decapolis, and Judea? Do you feel like your life was going well and then, suddenly, the wine ran out, and you’re not sure why it happened, or how it happened?

 

Look at the birds. Consider the lilies. Seek God, who is just a breath away. It is God’s way to provide. It is God’s way to bless. It is God’s way to give us water that gushes up to eternal life. (John 4:14) Jesus said, “Do not be afraid, little flock...” To that we could surely add, “Do not worry, little flock.” “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32)

 

CONCLUSION

 

It is the Father’s good pleasure to give us whatever we need.

 

I got off the plane in Minneapolis, and although the signs weren’t quite so clear as they are at DIA (or maybe I’m just more familiar with the signs at DIA), I found signs directing me to the light rail station. I had to take an airport train to get to the light rail train, and I bought myself a ticket, and figured out which way downtown was, and joined the people of Minneapolis on that train. Perhaps I looked a little different from the rest, since I had a suitcase with me. But I found my stop, and walked my six blocks to the hotel, and began a week of being provided for. I heard some wonderful sermons and some great lectures. I sang in what became a 2,100-voice choir, and it was glorious, so glorious that sometimes I stopped singing, and just listened. I heard Les McCann play the piano, Butch Thompson play the clarinet, I heard Barbara Brown Taylor preach. I found my way to the Lake of the Isles on a 6-mile run one morning, and met my friends Don and Sue on two different evenings, and watched Sue’s son, Luke, play in a Little League baseball game, and afterwards, the three of us went out for ice cream.

 

I tried to remember that each day’s trouble was enough for that day. God gave to me. God fed me, just as he feeds the pelicans. God took care of me, just as he tends to the tulips. I found Jesus’ words to be true. My heavenly Father does know that I need all these different things. And he comes through. He provides.

 

As Julian of Norwich said long ago, “And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”