Discipleship and Grace

Earlier this week I began listening to "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed.  In the prolouge of the book, she says that she left her life to walk the Pacific Coast Trail to become the woman she was meant to be and to return to the young girl she was.  (Not quoted verbatim)  That has stuck with me for the last couple of days.

This morning I awoke early--or rather got up early to run on the beach.  I didn't sleep well last night.  I was afraid I had offended a good friend and I couldn't get the conversation out of my mind.  I replayed it over and over dissecting every statement I thought I could remember.  Early this morning I decided to run because that is where I always feel I get the most clarity.  But as I was running--pushing myself harder and harder and then slowing down to be gentle with myself, I wondered about why I was running.  As I was pushing myself to go faster and further, it seemed I was actually trying to run away from what I believed I had done.  I wasn't getting clarity.  Instead, I was trying to run from myself from being the person, who was insensitive or at least stuck her foot in her mouth--to run from being the kind of person who hurt someone.  As I ran harder and harder, I realized I wanted to shed that part of me--to run out of that part of me.  And as I slowed down, I seemed to be caring for myself; I was being gentle with myself--acknowledging that I may have messed up, but as I slowed down and allowed my lungs to refill with air, I did have more clarity and my mind was saying, it wasn't intentional and that I could try to repair it just as I could slow down and allow my tired body to rest and rejeuvenate.

Walking back along the beach I began to think about this and to think about all the ways people try to run from the parts of themselves they dislike, are ashamed of, or fear.  People run in so many different ways--shopping too much, drinking too much, being too busy, isolating, gambling, ignoring--so many ways.  This morning I wanted to run away; I wanted the conversation to get out of my mind; but I just carried it with me. And until I slowed down and breathed, I couldn't even begin to process; I couldn't begin to forgive myself for what I may have done, and I certainly couldn't begin to ask for forgiveness.  Instead of trying to run away from who I don't want to be, perhaps I need to consider running into who I do want to be, who God wants me to be.  And that requires both pushing myself and being gentle--discipleship and grace.

The Mustard Seed and the Kingdom of God

Proper 6 Year B

Today’s Gospel leaves me feeling both freedom and frustration. Freedom that I’m not in charge, and well frustration that I’m not in charge. I like to be in control—and I like things to be straightforward and easily understood—parables are not always straightforward and easily understood. But Jesus spoke in parables, a lot, and he did it on purpose. He did it partly because he wants to stretch us; force us to use our imaginations. He wants us to shift the way we see ourselves, see God, and see others. And he did it because to wrap our minds around something like the Kingdom of God is virtually impossible.

We live in a fast paced, dare I say frentic world that prides itself on busyness, goals and objectives. We want to know that what we do matters, that we matter, that we have a purpose, and so we objectify our every activity. We set goals and we diligently work to achieve them. As people of faith we believe that part of our job if you will, part of our purpose is to spread the love of God; to be the fleshly hands and feet of Christ in the world today, to help to usher in the Kingdom of God. We are human living in this world, this world of goals and objectives; here comes the measurement—we want to know that what we are doing is working, we want to see proof—because sometimes, frankly, it doesn’t seem to be. We treat others with respect but don’t seem to get it in return, or we apologize for a wrong we’ve committed and we’re not forgiven, or God forbid we invite someone to church and they don’t come. Thus, we work harder, try to be nicer, try to force people to like us, accept us and others, try to be and to model tolerance, and often all it seems we get is exhausted. When we look at the bigger picture of the world, it definitely doesn’t seem to be working. Wars continue, poverty is rampant, needs abound. It is easy to be discouraged, to get so overwhelmed with the big picture that we freeze; we throw up our hands and say, the hopelessness the despair will never end, so why bother anymore? We’re not making any progress; not accomplishing any goals.

Today’s parable helps us to counter that. Jesus wants us to stretch our imaginations; to see the world differently; to stop trying to quantify everything and rather to trust. He wants us to bring hope into this world that is full of hopelessness. BUT, he hasn’t laid out a strategic plan with goals and objectives; criteria to be met; deadlines. He calls us to be Christ for the world; he also reminds us we are not God—we do not have all the control.

We are to plant seeds and then to trust that God will do the rest. We are not solely responsible for bringing forth the Kingdom of God—we are to do our part, yes, we have some responsibility, but that’s all; just our part. This really hit me yesterday morning when I was in the backyard watering. Early in the spring I planted a small piece of mint. Occasionally I water it, when I remember, but that’s all I’ve done, and yet yesterday the air was full of the fragrance of mint, and it was all over the place—with very little help from me. It was a strong reminder to me that I don’t have as much control as I want to have, but that God does. God’s love spreads even without my constant help; God’s love spreads in spite of the problems of the world.

Jesus wants us to stretch our imaginations; to see the world differently, to be in the world differently. Let’s consider the second parable. Jesus uses a mustard seed, a very common tiny seed that wasn’t worth much, that was easily disregarded. He uses something common, something ordinary, something seemingly insignificant and compares it to the Kingdom of God. This would have piqued the people’s interest—how in the world can something this ordinary be like the Kingdom of God? Jesus then goes further to say that it becomes a shrub---a large shrub, but still a shrub. Contrast that with the first reading where a cedar tree is used or in the Psalm where the psalmist uses the imagery of a tree. Jesus instead talks about a shrub—nothing grandiose, nothing overpowering and oppressive, Jesus compares the Kingdom of God to just a common shrub. The shrub illustrates to us that so often it is the common and the ordinary that becomes extraordinary when it is made holy.

When you picture the Kingdom of God, what do you see? Do you see streets paved with gold, castles, flowing grassy fields with vibrantly colored and fragrant flowers? I think this parable is challenging us to think differently, to see the Kingdom of God in the everyday, in the ordinary, in the smallest of ways—to glimpse the Kingdom of God in the love we give to one another and to the world. I think today’s Gospel is challenging us to stop trying to be the best bearer of the Kingdom and just to bear. To begin to trust that even the smallest action, the smallest word, the smallest deed can be transformative, and I think it’s also challenging us to open our eyes, to slow down, and to acknowledge that while the Kingdom is not yet here in its entirety, it is here. It’s begging us to pay attention to all the glimpses of the Kingdom of God that are all around us in our common everyday world. It’s begging us to not just focus on what needs to be done, but to acknowledge what has been done. To see that when the youth went to Choices this week and worked in their gardens, they were planting part of the Kingdom of God; to see that when we take time to stop and speak to someone who is lonely, we are planting the Kingdom of God. To see that when we extend a hand of greeting, we are planting the Kingdom of God. To see and understand that when we feed and clothe someone through our outreach ministry, that we haven’t ended poverty, but that for that day there is one less hungry person in the world.

When our children were small, part of the bedtime routine was to ask, “where did you see God today?” The answers were amazing; the things they noticed, or the things that mattered to them, the way they saw God working in the world, the things they saw that we as adults being busy glossed over. Today’s parable challenges us to stop, to take notice, to release control, to trust. I challenge you and I also take on this challenge, at the end of the day, ask yourself, “where did you see God today and where did you help someone else to see or feel God?” What seed did you plant?