Lent: 4/3/09
April 3, 2009
Exodus 9:13-35
2 Corinthians 4:1-12
Mark 10:32-45
“A Permanent Change of Heart”
But when Pharaoh saw that the rain and the hail and the thunder had ceased, he sinned once more and hardened his heart – Exodus 9:34a (NRSV)
Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. – 2 Corinthians 4:1
It has been said,
Everyone makes mistakes.
A wise person learns from their mistakes.
A wiser person learns from the mistakes of others.
In the current economic crisis, we are starting to see some changes in the way people act. Folks are beginning to cut back on wasteful and harmful spending. Families are being forced to set priorities, goals and budgets (and some are even sticking to them). As a people we are becoming more appreciative of the basics. We know feel the importance of food, shelter, clothing and transportation and are beginning to not just take such things for granted. I have watched the consumer spending trends beginning to shift as attitudes are beginning to change. We are rethinking the cars we buy. We are considering reusing and recycling as practical necessities rather than as just nice ideas. People are starting to get involved and becoming interested in helping others. More and more churches are hosting job fairs and starting food pantries and clothes closets. It seems that at least some good might come out of our current time of trouble and uncertainty.
But today as the first words of good news or rather slightly less bad news start to hit the news circuit, I am seeing a worrisome hint that things are going to return to the way they were. What will happen once we see that the rain and the hail and the thunder have ceased? Will we continue to hold to our changed hearts and new found disciplines? Will we continue to work to help those in need? Will we continue the fight against corruption, fraud and waste? Or will we too harden our hearts and fall back into old patterns of thought and action? Will the memory of hunger make us more responsible, or will we become twice the gluttons we were before. That would be a shame as costly lessons are too often forgotten. It happened before. Remember when everybody was driving compact cars? Remember the days of the hatchbacks and 12 inch tires? As soon as gas prices fell we ran to the dealerships to buy the biggest and most expensive things they could dream up. It wasn’t entirely their fault that they built them; it was our fault that we bought them. The same can be said of housing and financial markets too.
The same thing is true in our churches. Does anyone remember the boom in attendance following WWII? Do you remember the crowded churches after 9/11? How long did the interest in church last, not very long? We managed to reach a few of them. We managed to connect and build relationships with a family here and there that continues strong. But for the most part, the people came to get what they needed for the moment, took what they could get, and grabbed up with all they could carry and left. Once more the people are beginning to return. The rain and hail and thunder of hard times means less trips and recreation and entertainment. So if they can’t go to the beach or the mountain or the lake or the race or the mall; they might as well go to church. It couldn’t hurt, and it might be the help we need to get us through. And at the first sign of opportunity, hope, or spring they are gone. Like Pharaoh they sin again and harden their hearts. Often unnoticed or grieved is the financial, emotional and spiritual impact that this can have on a church.
Hosting guest is expensive: even when the guests are welcome and we gladly pay the price. Providing more space, more materials, more programs, more assistance, more everything is costly, but we don’t mind. Nor should we. But the expense is still there regardless.
Opening our lives to others is costly emotionally. We become invested in them. We share ourselves with them and happily take up their troubles as our own. We bring them into the house. We put slippers on their feet, a robe on their backs and rings on their fingers. We slaughter the fattened calf that we have been reserving for a special day. Gladly and with joyful hearts we celebrate. We struggle to ease their burdens. We dare to love them. We never expect this to be a marriage of convenience and circumstance, we are a until death and beyond kind of people. And then just as things start to look up for them, just as we are starting to celebrate their retuning health and wholeness; they leave us without a word. And it hurts us to the soul, we cannot let go of the love that we have for them and it cost us. Gladly we would do it all over again and again and again. But the expense is still there regardless.
Caring for and welcoming new people is exciting and new ministries start to sprout and grow as old programs and missions take on new life and energy. The church feels purpose and meaning. Our desire to serve now has a need with a name and a face. More members become interested in becoming active. People who were previously content become driven to make a difference. Members who had become discouraged and weary find new strength and affirmation. We dare to dream that we can make a difference once more. Churches that were once lukewarm become ignited. We sacrifice, we work, we pray, we study, and we worship with a renewed joy and zeal. We can do this! We can really be the Church! We can make this thing work by working together! And then the rain and the hail and the thunder stop. And we stand there. Frustrated and grieved that all the things that were humming along yesterday are now empty and pointless. Has all our work been for nothing? Have we come this far only to fail? Was it some sort of cruel joke? Can we find a way to continue to build on the foundations that we have just worked so hard to lay, or do we cut our losses and go back to our pews with harden hearts? Yes, it was worth it somehow in some way. But the expense is still there regardless.
Lent is like this too. Can the spiritual ground that is claimed in the hungry days of Lent be maintained in the post Easter celebrations. Will we shelve our Bibles and turn on our televisions? With the time in prayer and quite that give us live become lost as we return to our regularly scheduled lives? Will we even bother with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday this year? Or will we finally reach Palm Sunday after all this time and call it good enough? That would be a shame.
What if we could hold on to at least some of what we have learned these forty days? What if we could experience a permanent change of heart? What if this year after being resurrected on Easter morning we set our hearts and minds and souls to never return to the darkness of the grave again? That would make it all worthwhile. That might just be the point.
Liberating God,
You did not free us from the house of bondage,
in order for us to become slaves once more.
You did not purchase us with your own precious blood,
in order for us to return to the chains of sin.
You did not suffer and break the power of death,
in order for us to live for a moment and return to our graves.
Give us new hearts this day.
Breathe into us a new spirit.
Give us this day a new beginning, that the costs of this season might be efficacious and eternal.
It was after all worth it wasn’t it? Amen.
