32“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 35“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; 36be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. 37Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.38If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. 39“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
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This sermon was originally preached at Redeemer Episcopal Church on August 11, 2019 by The Rev. Sarah Locke. You can listen to the sermon audio (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link.
Grace and peace from God in Christ, without whom we cannot exist. Amen.
“Do not be afraid” seems like an absolutely ridiculous thing for God to say to us, and to these people in these stories.
Think of the story of Abram: God had promised that he would be a great nation and up until then, he had only had a son born to his wife’s slave— hardly the right kind of heir! So he questions God, and I think most of us would say rightly so— and God says “Do not be afraid.” But can we blame Abram for being afraid? Things aren’t going as planned or promised and he is already an old man.
In the gospel text, Jesus is in the core of his teaching. He has already healed many people, he has calmed the storms, and he has predicted his death multiple times to his disciples. Why wouldn’t they be in fear and trembling about all the things their rabbi has done and says that he will do? Just before this, Jesus told someone in the crowd that possessions are only going to rot and crumble beneath them. The one thing that assured the life and longevity of people in the ancient world— wealth, acquiring more stuff— Jesus says is worthless. It makes sense that people are a little uneasy.
So how galling is it that Jesus says, “Do not be afraid.”
This is the same message that God brings to us today.
The imagery that Jesus uses as he speaks to the disciples strikes me. Jesus gives us a story of a slave, waiting in the middle of the night, for the master to return. Then he says that “if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”
Jesus us tells his followers about two times when we much stay awake, stay alert. And they both happen to be at night. It is in the middle of the night that the master may return from the wedding banquet. We are to stay up, far into the darkness of evening to await his return. Far into the unknown hours of mystery and vulnerability. So too, Jesus speaks of a thief who comes during some mysterious, unknown hour to break into the house.
This is where we find ourselves this morning. In darkness, in mystery, in fear, awaiting those things that we know will come, but without any indication of when or for how long we must wait.
127 of God’s children have died or were injured in mass shootings in the United States just in the last two weeks.
680 of God’s children were arrested in ICE raids this week and hundreds of parents were separated from their children.
God’s creation of land and water are being exploited at unprecedented rates, wreaking havoc on our whole world.
Friday’s triple shooting marked Jacksonville’s 100th homicide this year.
Do not be afraid, Jesus says.
But it seems we are sitting in the deepest darkness many of us can imagine.
Think about what it means to be in the dark. As children, many of us were probably afraid of the dark. Maybe we still are. It’s often terrifying and it makes us sit up a little straighter, strain our eyes a bit to be sure we know where we are going, keeps us focused and diligent. But is also gives us an opportunity.
Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “we are never more in danger of stumbling than when we think we know where we are going.” Only when there are no more maps, no more compasses, no more lights to direct the way, are we fully vulnerable to God.
So here we are, waiting in the darkness, beginning to understand that we are fully reliant on God. In the collect this morning we prayed that we cannot exist without God. How often do we truly believe that? Only when we know we cannot rely on anything else in this world. Only when we are in total darkness, waiting for God to return.
So what do we do in this space? What do we do to quell our fear and feel more secure?
The world would tell us that we have to have more defenses, buy more guns, increase our national security budget, have some sort registry of the mentally ill. The world would tell us that we must frantically flip on all the lights and respond in fear, gathering up all the resources we can so that we can defend ourselves against intruders and thieves. The world tells us that these things will keep us safe.
But God tells us that true security doesn’t come from those things. In fact, Jesus tells us to sell all of our possession in preparation for his return, we are to give to the poor and be cautious of what lies within our hearts. Our psalm this morning says this: There is no king that can be saved by a mighty army; a strong man is not delivered by his great strength. The horse is a vain hope for deliverance; for all its strength it cannot save. God is our only help and shield.
The only thing that can hold is in this in-between time— this time of darkness, mystery, and fear, when the reign of God is not but not yet come, is God. Only God.
So what are we to do? We look to our ancestors and all those saints who have gone before us, we look to those who have gone through the darkest of times and we learn from our history. We remember those who have died fighting against the same evils. We read their stories again and again, we remember their names on our lips and in our prayers. We dine with them at this holy table. We are assured in the promise that we are washed in the same waters of baptism with them. And like Abraham and Sarah, and our parents before us, we defiantly, rebelliously have more faith in God than we do in this world.
Because we know where we are in this story, as resurrection people— we know the end of this story. We know how it ends. God’s story does not end with the darkness of the sun being blotted out as Christ dies on the cross, it does not end with the darkness of the tomb.
The story continues as the sun rises to reveal an open and empty tomb.
God’s promise of life everlasting is the only thing that allows us to sit through the night, waiting for the thief, wondering what comes next. It is only God’s promise that allows us to have faith that something better awaits.
And that is exactly why we come together in this community to sit and wait and be vulnerable before God as we wait for what is to come, trusting in God’s radical and revolutionary promise that we need not worry.
Amen.
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