God’s Inconvenience
Scripture Lesson: Matthew 5: 1-12 (read responsively)
Dr. Matthew S. Brown
October 15, 2006
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.”
You know, I truly do feel that I could be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience. Slouching in the swiveling comfort of my room’s upholstered chair, a cookie crumb or two resting on the wrinkles of a once starched shirt, my hand holding the wondrous wand that promises cable heaven but seldom delivers, my mind numbed, rendered almost insensate by the choice between the Jump the Shark episode of Happy Days or Pimp my Lawn Mower, I realize that lethargy has brought me to the precipice of a good drool.
I know that I would feel better about myself and the living room would look much better if I broke out the Bruce’s Hardwood Cleaner and started scrubbing. But, first of all, I would have to move, which at this point seems a less than viable option. I would have to rummage through cabinets, closets, and shelves until I bellowed at the top of my voice, “Donna, have you seen the Hardwood Cleaner?” I would then have to suffer the indignity of having Donna demonstrate that said item was to be found in plain view in the first place I had looked. Then, this same process would be repeated as I sought a suitable cloth to apply the recently discovered cleaner. “Donna, have you seen…? Uh, thank you.”
Having acquired the necessary tools I would then suffer the unceasing protestations of my knobby knees and my paunch-supporting back as I bowed in obeisance to the wooden planks before me. With a methodical pattern and a rhythmic swirling motion I would scrub and scrub and scrub, thinking all along “What a fine man I am!” That is, until I looked up to see that the square footage of unpolished floor had mysteriously multiplied exponentially since I first knelt down.
So do you think Fonzi’s going to actually jump over that shark?
I know, I am convinced, I am sure I would be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience. I see that young mother with the infant on one hip, the toddler in the other hand, the handle of the grocery cart between her teeth, trying to negotiate her way across the parking lot and I could offer to help her get that load of perishable products to her car, but how do you offer help to a stranger in these homeland security days without scaring the bejeebers out of her? What do I say?
For over-analytical introverts like me, just nodding to someone on the street involves a complex Socratic sequence of questions for my addled brain. Do you nod and smile or just nod? Or do you say something, and if you do what do you say? Hello? How’s it goin’? Nice day, isn’t it? How ‘bout them Panthers? But, it’s not that nice of a day and you don’t know if the Panthers won or lost. And, if you do say something, won’t you be taking the risk of being misunderstood? O, and I am already late for that meeting.
No doubt, I would be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience.
I can feel the tension rise as my eyes meet the eyes of the estranged friend who is standing on the other side of that wall called conflict, it’s bricks inscribed with phrases like “hurt feelings”, “miscommunication”, “assumption”, “betrayal”, “distrust”, “anger”, “revenge”…
I know it was not his intention initially to slight me or make me feel the fool. That was just the perceived result and then pride took over – insidious pride, never admit a mistake pride, refuse to acknowledge my own responsibility pride, too macho to confess vulnerability pride. “I’m a manly, manly, manly man…”
Reconciliation would not involve too many steps. It’s just that first step that seems so daunting. What do you say? How do you approach him? Why doesn’t he approach me first? Why am I so nervous? Where’s the Pepto Bismal?
No doubt, I would be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience.
I have passed the homeless on the street averting my gaze so as not to risk altering my schedule; I have winced as I read of the suffering in the Sudan yet not allowed the disturbing news account to disturb my dinner; I know the burdens of the working poor in this country but have not allowed their plight to push me to act or speak on their behalf; I have meant to mail a donation to the Battered Women’s shelter but haven’t made it to the mailbox; and every day I rationalize my inattention to the needs of others with the ubiquitous, all-purpose, never go out of style one word excuse – busy.
Certainly, I would be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience.
Chide, push, cajole, prod, remind, correct, fuss, punish, prompt, and criticize – all words that are descriptive of my daily interactions with my children, but when they actually initiate a conversation, have I listened to what they are saying even though it’s a subject for which I have less than any interest? Why does it seem such an effort?
Certainly, I would be a better person if it weren’t such an inconvenience.
“Blessed are the merciful,” Jesus says, “for they will receive mercy.”
Now, that wooden living room floor could care less if I caress it with a cloth. That’s not a matter of mercy, that’s a matter of cleanliness and laziness, but think of all the people who could find some enhanced sense of dignity in their lives if we could push past our spiritual and emotional laziness with an act or word or gesture or better yet, a lifestyle of mercy.
Oh, to be sure, the work of mercy is most challenging. It can agitate the abdomen, it can bother the blood pressure, it will disquiet the nervous system, it will complicate calendars, and assault your pride. In pursuing mercy you will risk humiliation, you will know disappointment. The work of mercy is hard.
Listen to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, that great martyred prophet whose faith was such a threat to the German Third Reich, as he describes those who follow the path of mercy:
These [people] without possessions or power, these strangers on earth, these sinners, these followers of Jesus, have in their life with him renounced their own dignity, for they are merciful. As if their own needs and their own distress were not enough, they take upon themselves the distress and humiliation and sin of others. They have an irresistible love for the down-trodden, the sick, the wretched , the wronged, the outcast and all who are tortured with anxiety. They go out and seek all who are enmeshed in the toils of sin and guilt. No distress is too great, no sin too appalling for their pity. If any man falls into disgrace, the merciful will sacrifice their own honour to shield him, and take his shame upon themselves. They will be found consorting with publicans and sinners, careless of the shame they incur thereby. In order that they may be merciful they cast away the most priceless treasure of human life, their personal dignity and honour. For the only honour and dignity they know is their Lord’s own mercy, to which alone they owe their very lives.
The casting away of dignity and honour, not to mention the inconvenience of it all, would seem enough to tempt one away from the way of mercy, that is, until you consider that it was God’s willingness to weather the inconvenience, to suffer the shame and indignity that have brought us to this place and placed in our hearts the promise of redemption and the hope of heaven.
If you think about it, we are God’s inconvenience. The prophet Isaiah proclaims the promise we know as fulfilled in Christ. “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed.”
If that doesn’t qualify as a bit of an inconvenience, nothing does. And yet, God doesn’t consider it inconvenience. No, God calls it love. “For God so loved the world…” Remember what Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.”
If God’s love for us goes to such lengths, what comparatively minor inconveniences or indignities might we endure that the people who populate our worlds may know some measure of mercy?
Author James Moore suggests that mercy is characterized by empathy, generosity, and forgiveness, and he offers two examples from the presidency of Abraham Lincoln which reveal that mercy can develop into more than a gesture and become a way of life.
During the war between the states, a young teenage boy enlisted to be a soldier for the Union army. But he was not ready. He was much too young, and when the time came for his first encounter with the enemy, he became terrified and ran away. He was caught, arrested, judged guilty of desertion and sentenced to be shot by a firing squad.
His parents wrote a letter to President Abraham Lincoln, pleading for mercy, pleading for a pardon for their young son. Touched by their letter, President Lincoln called for the facts and when he realized the situation, he overruled the death sentence and granted the teenager a full presidential pardon.
In his official statement explaining his action, Mr. Lincoln wrote these words: “Over the years… I have observed that it does not do a boy much good to shoot him!”
At the end of the war, when he was asked how he would treat the southerners, Lincoln said, “Like they had never been away.”
“But Mr. President,” the questioner protested, “aren’t we supposed to destroy our enemies?”
Lincoln said, “Don’t we destroy our enemies when we make them our friends.” (James Moore, When All Else Fails, Read the Instructions)
These are not actions and words flowing out of Political Action Committees or focus groups. These are characteristic
Shakespeare was right when he said that mercy is twice blessed, blessing those who receive and those who give.
Though it is counter-intuitive, the suffering of inconvenience and the abandonment of dignity in the act of mercy, can result in great joy, the indescribable joy of forgiver and forgiven sharing the smiles and laughing the laughter of reconciliation.
In our Disciple 2 class we’ve been reading the intriguing story of the Torah’s famously fighting fraternal twins Jacob and Esau.
Jacob, whose name means trickster, conniver, lived down to his name by conning Esau, the firstborn out of his birthright and blessing. Esau’s anger was so great that he promised to kill his brother when the mourning period for their father’s death had passed. Jacob placed both feet firmly on the ground, stood tall, and ran away as fast as he could.
Jacob feared the inevitable day when he would again face his brother Esau. But when that day came, Esau ran to meet him, not with sword or spear, but with an embrace, a kiss, and tears of reconciliation. Esau chose the inconvenience of mercy instead of the blood of revenge. And for Jacob, the experience of mercy led him to say to his brother, “Truly, to see your face is like seeing the face of God – since you have received me with such favor.”
Describing the merciful, Bonhoeffer said, “In order that they may be merciful they cast away the most priceless treasure of human life, their personal dignity and honour. For the only honour and dignity they know is their Lord’s own mercy, to which alone they owe their very lives.”
You know the people you cannot bring yourself to forgive because pride seems too great a sacrifice. You know the many times the needs of others have gone unacknowledged because it just cost too much to care. I know I could be a better person if it just weren’t such an inconvenience.
But remember, we are God’s inconvenience and God chose mercy. What will you choose? Empathy. Generosity. Forgiveness. The effort may seem great. The cost may seem too high. But mercy may just be the best bargain you’ll ever find. Amen.
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