Please tell me there is still some good in the world

Recently, at a wedding I attended, a friend of ours was sharing stories about his job. He is a teacher for children with severe behavioral disabilities. The stories he shared about what the kids were capable of doing, and the traumatic events in their lives that have led them to this place, astounded us. Someone turned to me and said, "Please tell me there is still some good in the world." I sat and stared at her, stunned. In a moment, all I was thinking was, "I should be able to do this. This is my job as a pastor. It is my job to reassure people of God's grace, in spite of everything. This is what I am called to do." In the moment pause that it took me to realize I didn't know what to say, she explained what she was asking. "I can't believe these stories. They break my heart. How can people do that to children? How can we be so evil to each other? The whole world is like this! Please tell me that there's hope."

Hope? I should be able to respond to that too. Grace, hope, good news... that's what I'm called to proclaim. I said, "There's still good in the world." And that's all I said. That's all she asked for. That was good enough for her, for that moment. The conversation moved elsewhere. But I was silenced. Shamed. I didn't have anything to say. I didn't have any proof, any examples, any ideas of where to find goodness, grace, and hope in a world so full of pain.

This conversation has troubled me ever since. It is indeed my vocation to proclaim good news in a world of pain. God has called me to preach grace and the promise of a coming kindom into a world that can't hear it and will reject my message and probably me, too. Where is this hope and goodness that God is calling me to preach?

In asking her own questions of faith, this woman did not know she was questioning mine as well. But I struggle, sometimes (maybe even often), to see God's work in the world. I am convinced beyond belief that God is working and present and working through us. I know without a doubt that when we try, we can find experiences of God's kindom already come and in the process of coming all around us. But how often do I try? And how often do I step out of the world as-it-is to experience the world as-it-will-be?

This Sunday, at St. James, we will celebrate a baptism. In the baptism service, we pray that God will remind us of God's grace. We renounce the powers of the world and the forces of evil, and we turn ourselves from this world as-it-is to look firmly into the world as-it-will-be, to step into an alternative reality, the reality of God's kindom. We celebrate God's claiming of one more child into the Christian communion, celebrate God's grace as evident in that child's life and present in that child's heart. We also promise to help that child live into that new, alternative reality. Which means we'll have to live into that same reality, the world as-it-will-be. And we do that, almost immediately. We sit down at a meal together, at God's table, where every person regardless of everything is welcomed and fed. We are no longer Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, 'black' nor white, rich nor poor, child nor adult. We are one communion, one holy family - with all the saints of every time and place. We are, in that moment, the kindom come.

That baptismal service, complete with the Eucharistic meal, is an important reminder of God's work in the world, and God's work in us. A wise pastor once reminded me: At baptism, God claims us as her own. God puts her spirit deep within us. So no matter what happens, no matter what evil enters us or enters the world, we are always claimed as God's own. We can never be fundamentally shameful or evil, because that choice has already been made for us. Whatever evil, traumatic, horrific things might happen in our lives, God was there first. Even before baptism, God knit us in our mother's womb. We can't change that. Nothing can change that. No matter what happens, baptism comes first. God claims us, and she doesn't let go.

This Sunday, we'll pray over the water and trust that God's spirit is placed deep within the baby's soul. And we'll pray: "...Praise to you for the water of baptism and for your Word that saves us in this water. Breathe your Spirit into all who are gathered here and into all creation. Illumine our days. Enliven our bones. Dry our tears. Wash away the sin within us, and drown the evil around us..."

May it be so. And may the hope and goodness of God be present and evident in our lives today, in ways we can see, feel, touch, taste, and know. And may we have the grace to accept God in our lives and in our world. To live not in the world as-it-is but in the world as-it-will-be. Amen. 

Church's mission

 Matthew 25:31-40
31 "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, "Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' 37 Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' 40 And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'



God calls the church to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and shelter the homeless...
I can't say just why this happens, but it tends to be that in the late summer (and around Christmastime) that people who live on the edge tend to need the most help. Perhaps it's because of the heat, or higher electricity bills, or higher gas prices... or any other of a myriad of reasons. Still, almost no one had stopped by the church to request assistance for months. And suddenly, it seems that every day someone is walking into the church, hoping for a prayer and a little help. At St. James, our policy is to invite these folks in and I listen to their stories. Mostly, we have small gift cards that we give out, along with a prayer for God's grace, goodness, and presence in that person's life. Occasionally there will be enough money in to help with a utility bill or bus/train fare. These gifts are always met with grateful smiles and handshakes, and we send them on their way. But their names remain on our prayer list, as we continue to pray for God's presence and grace in their lives.


It didn't occur to me until just today that these requests are precisely the kinds of requests Jesus is talking about in Matthew 25. For pastors, people seeking assistance can be one of the most difficult parts of our jobs. It is not that pastoral care with such folks is particularly difficult - though it can be, if the person happens to be using drugs or alcohol, or mentally ill, or a number of other difficulties that present in peoples' lives. Rather, we feel the need to be good stewards of the limited resources our congregations have to give to people. We make church policies to combat feeling used or taken advantage of. We use our guts and our prayers in the hope of making good, life-giving decisions rather than supporting life-damaging habits. However, when making such decisions, it can be so easy to fall into judgment. In a fast-paced world of meetings and appointments and ever-necessary sermon preparation time, taking time to talk with folks can begin to feel like a burden, one more thing on the agenda to make us late to the next thing.


Still, these people come, and we are called to sit with them, listen to them, pray with them, help them. And, I have discovered that when I take time to be fully present with these people, they often have deep lessons to teach me. Their faith, hope, joy, and love -- in spite of or even because of their life circumstances -- is inspiring. I have learned to say out loud that what we give at St. James is a gift to that person, no strings attached. We hope that people will use what little we have to give in life-giving ways. We hope that God's grace might shine in a little corner of that person's life. We hope that our prayers buoy those people when they most need it. But it is a gift, and we can't require that it be used in any certain way; we can't add expectations and rules. We give gifts because of our desire to give, not because of the other person's desire to receive or intent to use. We give gifts as one response to God's grace to us. And, we give gifts because in doing so we meet Jesus: hungry, thirsty, homeless, naked, sick, imprisoned.


So, I hope people keep coming. And I hope I keep learning. And I pray my church keeps giving... that we might indeed see the Son of Man coming in glory and recognize him from someone we happen to have met once before, on a hot summer day at the end of August,  hoping for a prayer and a little bit of help.