“EAGER LONGING”
The Psalm: Psalm 130: 5-7
The Epistle: Romans 8: 12-25
Dr. Matthew S. Brown
The tall slender steeple of
First Presbyterian Church in Morganton shoots up into the sky, its crowning
cross proclaiming to that foothills community that Christ has indeed overcome the
world, marking that spot as a place where hope is to be found. Yet, in the shadow of the cross a child is
crying. O, to be sure, if you have ever
worked in a place where there are a lot of children you will hear a great
variety of cries. There’s the “I don’t
want my diaper changed now!” cry; the “I don’t want to share the Little Tykes
trike” cry; the “I don’t like green beans and you can’t make me eat them” cry;
and, of course, the all purpose, good for any occasion, old fashioned temper
tantrum. Certain children become known
by the sound of their wailing and gnashing of teeth.
But this cry is
different. There in the shadow of the
victorious steeple cross, this cry punctures a hole in the hearts of all who
know what is happening. Throughout the
late afternoon the little boy has been asking why his mom has not arrived to
pick him up. It is hard for us to
understand why this preschooler would be asking for his mom, the mom who has
repeatedly bruised his little body and has been arrested.
We cannot comprehend the hell
of his world, and yet, it is his world, the only world he has known. It’s not just life-long Presbyterians who
struggle with change.
So when those strong and
caring individuals, charged with the unenviable responsibility of removing children
from violence and finding them safe haven, arrive, the boy cries. They are tears of fear coming forth from a
confused mind and a broken heart. And as
you look back and forth, standing between an abused child and a majestic church
steeple, you realize that, in some ways, there is still a great distance
between here and the there that steeple cross represents.
We still suffer from a
preponderance of “why” questions, the whys that come attached to such words as
domestic abuse, leukemia, cancer, abuse, Alzheimer’s, bigotry, addiction, hate;
the whys that wake you in the night when friendships are fracturing and
marriages are breaking; the whys that plague you when careers are cloudy and
purpose seems nowhere to be found. Yes,
sometimes the distance seems great between your life and the kingdom that
steeple cross represents.
So what is it that keeps that
seemingly daunting distance from becoming an impassable abyss? What is the lifeline that maintains some
connection between an abused child and a glorious steeple cross?
It is hope. It is hope.
So eloquently, Paul expresses that hope to which we cling in Christ
Jesus. “I consider that the sufferings
of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be
revealed to us...”
Shipwrecks, beatings,
imprisonments, divisions already in the churches he had just founded - you’d
think the guy would have given up by now, but patiently does he cling to the
hope that won’t disappoint, to the love that will not let him go. “The creation itself will be set free from
its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God.”
When Paul looked around him,
he certainly saw enough of sin and brokenness to break that lifeline of
hope. The brutal atrocities of Roman
rule; the infighting and competitiveness among those new converts to Christ,
the Prince of Peace; and any number of daily tragedies he would witness or hear
about. When Paul looked in “a mirror
dimly”, he also saw the effects of sin and brokenness in his own life to an
extent that could break any one’s hope.
Perhaps you have read or heard the passage of self
examination/exasperation in this same letter?
“I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do...
Wretched man that I am.”
And yet, Paul refuses to lose
hope in God’s power to transform all the wretchedness of this world. I am reminded of the undying, imperturbable
faith of a group of Jewish prisoners at
Forming a proper court, they
appointed counselors for the prosecution and for the defense, and they heard
all the arguments on both sides. At the
end of the proceedings they conferred on their findings and the verdict was
unanimous. The rabbi stood up to make
the formal pronouncement. He said, “This
court finds God guilty as charged. Now
let us go pray.” (Taylor-Suffering)
That is faith. However, Paul’s hope, our hope is more than
dogged determination to not give up on the God who created us. No, our living hope is found through the
presence of the Spirit within us, Christ’s Spirit who testifies that through
Christ God has claimed us as his children and he will not let us go. In the midst of our fears,
failings, and frustrations, when we cry out, “Abba, Father!” Paul says, “it is the Spirit himself bearing
witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then
heirs, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ...” And God will not abandon his children. God will redeem his creation.
One of my seminary
professors, Paul Achtemeier, reminds us of God’s ability to redeem the future
from an unpromising present by taking us back to the story of the call of
Moses. “If anything is clear in that
story, it is Moses’ own dismal assessment of his value to God’s future. For every task God has for Moses in the
redemptive future of
Though the present can seem
so confusing and ripe with despair, God’s future is sure. It is God’s creation,
nothing in it shall thwart God’s purpose.
Achtemeier honestly
confesses, “Left to our own devices, we humans will again snatch evil from the
jaws of goodness. Our confidence is sure
precisely because our future is not in our hands... It lies in God’s hands. Redemption is the powerful act of a loving
God . . . and part of that love is not to allow us to botch it up.”
Sometimes the distance seems
o so great between the abused child in a daycare playground, the starving
children of
“I consider that the
sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is
to be revealed to us.”
What is the lifeline that
maintains some connection between an abused child and a glorious steeple cross?
It is hope. It is hope.
It is hope born of those times, however brief, however few, when you
have sensed that inner harmony, that peace which passes all understanding, that
inkling that God knows what is happening in your life and God cares. It is “the Spirit bearing witness with [your]
spirit that [you are a child] of God,” confirming for you the testimony of
Jesus’ promise - “I will not leave you desolate.”
These poignant points in time
have sometimes raised as many questions for us as they
have offered answers, and admittedly, we Presbyterians don’t like to talk about
them much. But in a mysterious way those
experiences have sustained us and kept hope alive.
One of North Carolina’s
greatest writers, Reynolds Price, refers to them as “personal openings,” Price’s book, Letter
to a Man in the Fire, subtitled, “Does God exist and does He care?” is written
as a letter to a man struggling with the ravages of cancer who had corresponded
with Price after reading Price’s memoir detailing his own battle with cancer in
which he freely confesses his doubts, fears, and the faith he believes
sustained him.
Referring to his experience
of those personal openings, Price writes, “...in those moments or openings . .
. I’ve heard what amounts to a densely complex yet piercingly direct harmony
that appears to come from the heart of whatever reality made us and watches over
our lives.”
He shares another letter he
received from a man also in the midst of great medical stress, who distinctly
felt Jesus asking him, “What do you want?”
The man prayed, “Could you send someone to come with me and help me
stand up after the tests, because I can’t manage alone?” And he heard his Lord say, “How would it be
if I came?”
“... the
Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”
What keeps hope alive for
you? For me it was a teacher telling me
of that frightened, abused boy returning to school after spending the night
with a caring foster parent. With a
beatific smile on his face, he related to her the tale of their exciting trip
to McDonalds. She said he played and
interacted with the other children possessing a joy she had never seen in him
before.
What keeps hope alive for
you? For me it is that moment when a
group of diverse believers, coming into this place from the widest variety of
life situations, join in one voice, saying, “Our Father who art in heaven.
What keeps hope alive for
you? For me it is those times when,
inexplicably, I feel something no more intrusive than a soft wind, but yet, a
presence that reminds me that I am not alone, that God is not through with me
yet, that God has a purpose for his children and that I am one of them, that
God has in mind a time when tears will no longer fall. For in this hope we are saved.
Yes, the world continues to
groan in travail, children continue to cry in confusion because of the lessons
of violence they are learning from the ones who are supposed to be teaching
them about love. The distance
to the glory of heaven sometimes seem so great.
So what is it that keeps that
seemingly daunting distance from becoming an impassable abyss? What is the lifeline that maintains some
connection between an abused child and a glorious steeple cross?
It is hope. It is hope.
“I consider that the
sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is
to be revealed to us.”
Amen.