Paralyzed By Fear – Freed By Grace

Proper 28C; Luke 21:5-19; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 11/13/2016

Jim Melnyk: 

“Paralyzed By Fear – Freed By Grace”

It’s a cold, rainy Saturday morning and everyone is inside because of the weather.  A father is spending time with his six-year-old son, Josh.  “I know, Daddy,” says Josh.  “Let’s play chess!  Teach me how to play chess, puh-lease!”  You see, Josh had watched his older sister play with Dad, and it always looked rather intriguing to the youngster.

The father agrees, realizing the golf game he had envisioned for the morning is a bust anyhow, and he sits down to explain the rules of the game to young Josh.  “Now the object of this game,” Dad begins, “is to capture the other player’s king.”  He continues with instructions, explaining how each piece is moved, and how one captures the other player’s pieces.

A short while later the six-year-old is near tears as he looks at the game board.  Dad is becoming frustrated.  “Come on, Josh” he exclaims, “it’s your turn to move one of your pieces.”  “I don’t want to, Daddy,” Josh blurts out.  “Good grief, Josh, why not?  You said you wanted to play.  You begged me to teach you how to play!”  “Daddy,” Josh says, now crying. “If I move one of my pieces, you might capture it!”  And so the game ends before it ever really starts.

The game turned out to be much too frustrating for this particular six-year-old.  The excitement of playing the game lost out to the fear of having his chess pieces captured.  Josh just couldn’t deal with the risk.  “If I move one of my pieces you might capture it!”

Perhaps many of us can share a knowing shrug or a slight chuckle at having experienced something similar in the past.  We can most likely identify with both Josh and his Dad – we’ve been on both sides of the game before.  Often it seems so much easier – though also more frustrating – to not move at all.

It’s a paradox: In order to win one has to move one’s game piece – but that very act of moving the piece may well mean risking a loss – and not just the loss of that piece, but loss of the whole game as well.  It can become paralyzing if we think about it too much.

Jesus often spoke about a similar paradox – though on a much grander, life-changing scale.  In today’s gospel lesson Jesus takes the ultimate paradox of faith head on when he talks to his disciples about the impending fall of Jerusalem, and the challenges of remaining faithful to his call in the days to come.  “They will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons…because of my name” (Luke 21:12).  After which, Jesus basically says, “This will be [the] time for you to give testimony [of your faith in me].”  Now that’s hard stuff for Jesus’ disciples to hear.  But it gets worse.

“You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death.  You will be hated by all because of my name. 

But not a hair of your head will perish.  By your endurance you will gain your souls” (Luke 21:16-19).

Imagine how Jesus’ followers – his closest friends – might have responded to these comments.  “Now let me get this straight, Jesus.  First of all, if we follow you, we’ll be handed over to the very same people who apparently hate you – and by extension, will hate us, is that what you’re saying?”  Jesus offers a nod in agreement.  “Okay now, so when that happens to us, we’re supposed to own our relationship with you and preach the Good News to them?  We can keep our mouths shut and live, or proclaim the kingdom of God to them and die.  And you want us to speak out?  Are you insane?”

I can just see Jesus shaking his head as he asks, “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying to you all this time?  By your endurance you will gain your lives – or perhaps I should say, you will gain your souls.  That’s the important part.  Yes, it’s quite possible that you will die because you’re willing to follow me and proclaim the Gospel – you may die, but you will not perish.”

“I don’t know, Jesus,” replies one of the twelve.  “It sure sounds awfully risky to us.  Can we take a few minutes to think this through?”  Isn’t that what we all would really like to say?  Can we take a few minutes to think this through? 

What Jesus seems to be telling us in this bit of Luke’s gospel is that if we’re always busy trying to save our own lives – trying to make our lives as risk free as possible – we end up not really living our lives at all.  To top it off, even if we play it safe for ten, twenty, or forty years, we still end up dying anyway – no one has figured a way out of that trip yet. 

The great paradox of life and faith as Jesus tells us is this: Whoever chooses to save their lives will lose their lives; and whoever is willing to lose their lives for the sake of Jesus –

and for the sake of the kingdom of God – will end up saving themselves.  What good does it do us to gain the whole world if we forfeit our souls? 

I doubt too many of us will ever face life or death situations over our faith, but there are many who do.  I suspect that many first responders in our own communities and around the world, those who put their lives on the line, do so because they believe in that high calling to save lives – even if it risks dying.  Many might see that same willingness to risk one's life to save the soul of this world being acted out today – among those trying to preserve clean water, safeguard ancient burial grounds, and honor ages-old-treaties at Standing Rock Indian Reservation in North Dakota.  And while there may not be unanimous agreement about Standing Rock as an example, it does beg us to ask ourselves some important questions.

What are we willing to risk in order to stand up for what we believe?  Will we face water cannons and mace?  Will we take a rubber bullet – or worse – to stand up for what we believe is right – to stand up for what we believe to be the kingdom of God unfolding around us – to stand up in order to uphold other people’s honor and dignity?

Then again, on a less grand scale, there’s the risk of giving up time in our busy lives, or using our skills, or giving our hard-earned money to the Church – you can tell it’s still pledge season.  We hear and read about stuff like tithing our time, talent, and treasure and we see the inherent risk in letting go – what if life changes and I need that time or that money?  How strong is our commitment as a parish to meet the vision for ministry put forward by our various program committees?  Do we put our whole selves in, or just a toe?

Then there’s always the risk of living into our Baptismal Covenant.  Remember last Sunday when I asked if we dare to dip our fingers in holy waters of the font as go to or from the Holy Table – reminding ourselves of the promises we have made in front of each other and before God? 

I think about the amount of emotional, verbal, and physical violence experienced in our country since Tuesday’s election – reports of violence by followers of both candidates towards their perceived adversaries – I’ve seen the videos and photos – perhaps you have as well.  There are especially threats and violence toward people of color, immigrants, persons who are part of the LGBT community, Jews and Muslims.  Are we willing to risk speaking out for an end to the violence?  Are we willing to be safe people and a safe place for those who are afraid?  This is why I’m wearing a safety pin on my stole today and on my shirt – to let those who are afraid for any reason know that this priest is a safe person to speak with – that I will honor my Baptismal Covenant and step in with them whatever the risk.

And then there’s the risk of caring about and loving our neighbor – who for whatever reason might not love us in return.  Or those characterized as “Other” – others who may only be playing the system, or others who are truly hurting but who may never offer their love in return.

These questions, when faced with Jesus’ challenge to witness to the faith within us, are many.  The challenges are many as well.  Is it all really worth the risk?

Well, what should be said about a brand of Christianity that doesn’t take the risks?  What should be said of a brand of Christianity that’s familiar with all the words of the Bible – faith, hope, and love being at the center – but doesn’t concern itself much with the suffering of the world around us?  The temptation is to take the easier path – the more secure path – the less risky path.

Back in the late 70s Bette Midler – also known as The Divine Miss M – starred in a movie about a rock singer struggling with addiction.  There’s a verse in the title song of the film, “The Rose,” that speaks to the challenge offered by Jesus today:

 

It’s the heart afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance;

It’s the dream afraid of waking, that never takes the chance;

It’s the one who won’t be taken, who cannot seem to give;

And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.

It’s perhaps the supreme paradox of the Christian faith.  Like young Josh in the story earlier. If we move our playing piece, it might be captured.  On a much deeper note, if we take the risk to love, we may be taken – or like Jesus, we may even die in the trying.  But as we said last Sunday, God takes us by the hand along the way – that is what we mean by the incredible grace of God – a God who takes us by the hand and stands with us always.  And God promises to never let go – and that we can never, ever, lose ourselves to God.