“Holding On and Letting Go”

A sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Christine Jerrett on October 24, 2010 at Central United Church, Sarnia, Ontario.

Scriptures:   
Luke 18: 9-14

I want to begin this sermon by inviting you to open your hands. You may be holding the service bulletin or a hymn book: put it on the pew beside you. You may have you hands folded in your lap or across your chest: take your hands and open them up.

This is one of the elementary body postures of disciples of Jesus Christ. How does it feel? It may be relatively easy to do here, at this moment, while I’m asking everyone intentionally to sit with open, empty hands. Very shortly, though, you will begin holding things again.

Some of you will pick up the worries you have been carrying:  an upcoming doctor’s appointment; or, your failing memory and what that means for how much longer you can live in your own home; or, a loved one who is struggling.

Some of you will pick up your passion to make a difference in this world. You will focus again on that ‘to do’ list for some project you have taken on. You will direct your attention toward your children and all the ways you are trying to create an environment in which they will thrive.

Some of you will pick up that wound that will not heal; you will hold that hurt that will not release its grip on your heart not matter how often you try to forgive.

Do you feel your hands getting full? Open them again. Empty them out.

That is the move we make over and over again as we learn to follow Jesus. From the moment of our baptism, we enter a way of living that moves between taking up our life in this world and, then, opening our hands and giving our life up to the Lord who has claimed us as his own.

People like us are generally pretty good at taking up our life in this world. These days, in churches like ours, those of us who are still here tend to be the kind of people who take our responsibilities seriously. We care about other people. We care about the quality of life in our community and in our world. Even when we feel exhausted by carrying that load, we keep going. Even when we get discouraged, we keep volunteering, helping out, putting our money in the offering. Lots of other people have stopped helping, but we still try to do what we can to make our corner of the world a little better.

We’re good at that. Most of us are not so good at opening up our hands and giving it all over to Jesus. That does not come so easily to us.

Somebody said once that being a disciple of Jesus was like learning to ride a tandem bicycle -- a bicycle built for two. At first, you let Jesus just be a spectator, watching you from the sidelines of your life. You might let him give some advice, telling you what you’re doing right and what you’re doing wrong. You’re willing to let him tell you how to ride the bike better.

At some point, you invite Jesus onto the back seat of the bike. You let him help you pedal. It makes the ride go easier, especially through the tough climbs. However, there comes that moment when Jesus suggests that the two of you change places. You know that, if you do that, your life will never be the same again. He will take you down roads that you had not planned to travel. It is scary to take that risk. What if he wrecks the bike?

If you take the risk -- if you let Jesus be in control of the bike, you discover over time that he can be trusted. Sometimes, you find that you can even sit back, relax and enjoy the view.

Being in control is what the modern world was all about: controlling the natural world; controlling the environment; controlling our emotions; controlling other people. We even entertain the illusion that we can control the future. Indeed, some of us have been so deeply wounded by others that, somewhere in our hearts, we decided that the world would be a much safer place if we were in control of our own lives. In our culture, there is a whole industry that market spiritualities that promise to help us be in control . . . or, at least, maintain the illusion that we are in control.

Yet, for the past few months in worship, we have been following Jesus as he has been on his way to Jerusalem. Those of us who have taken this journey before know that, in Jerusalem, the one we call Lord is going to open up his hands and give up everything for our sakes. He tells those who want to follow him, “If you grasp and cling to life on your own terms, you will lose it. But, if you let that life go, reckless in your love, you will get life on God’s terms.” (John 12: 23-26)

The disciples were not comfortable with what he was saying. They wanted things tied down more tightly. They wanted the future spelled out in a concrete timeline. They loved Jesus’ talk about God’s kingdom of love and peace, but what was the action plan?  What were the goals and objectives and strategies for getting there? That would help. They could put the plans into action and be ready and work towards the kingdom.

Jesus told them, “The kingdom doesn’t happen that way. God’s reign is full of surprises. Only those who are ready to be surprised will enter it.”

“Two men went to the Temple to pray,” said Jesus. One was a Pharisee. He was a good man. He was a faithful member of God’s people. He worked hard at being both good and faithful. The other was a scoundrel -- a cheat, a crook, a sell-out to a corrupt and unjust system.

The prayer of the Pharisee was full of his goodness -- full of everything he was doing right. It was full of everything he was doing to make the world right. Indeed, his prayers were so full of his goodness that there was very little room left for God to work in his life.

The only thing the other guy had going for him was that he brought nothing to his prayer. He just came to God with empty hands and an open spirit. “God, give mercy,” he prayed.  There was a huge gap between the world that he has constructed with his life and the world God intended. He lay that gap, that emptiness, before God.

The surprise of Jesus’ parable is that that is enough. It is enough because, into that gap, God can come and make something new. That man went home made right with God, said Jesus.

In early Christian art there are figures of people who are praying. The art comes from a time when Christians were being persecuted in the Roman Empire. Nevertheless, these figures are standing upright, with heads raised and eyes open. Their hands and arms are stretched above their heads, palms facing upwards, in an attitude of great expectation. Says Jurgen Moltmann, “People who pray like this are laying themselves open to the wind of the Holy Spirit and are driven by the Spirit.” (The Source of Life, J. Moltmann, p. 126-130)

The Spirit of God ‘blows wherever it pleases’ (John 3: 8), but wherever it blows, it brings the life and the energy of God.

How are your hands? Are they open? Are they empty?
Will you let God fill that emptiness with God’s new life?
It is risky.
It is scary, because God will change us. God will ask us to give up some things that we we think we cannot live without.

It would be too risky to dare to live in openness to such a God, except that that is the only way into the future that God is creating. It would be too risky to live in such openness except that God has promised to meet us at every turn with grace beyond our deserving and with a love that wills only life for us.

It would be too risky, except that God has promised to meet us. That will be enough.

God, give mercy, and our lives will declare you praise.