Sermon: "Hard Grace"

“Hard Grace”

1^stCorinthians 13

Luke 4:21-30

            When I meet with couples planning their wedding (preparing for marriage), I like to use an inventory called “Prepare.”  

            I always make sure they know it’s not a ‘test”, and it won’t predict whether their marriage will succeed or fail.  

            But it gives a snapshot of their relationship at a moment in time, and measures what they call “Relationship Strengths,” and what we called “Growth Areas” (because it sounds so much nicer than “Weaknesses.”)  

            And some of the possible strengths are things like Communication, Conflict Management, Financial Management, Relationship Roles,  Family and Friends, Spiritual Beliefs, Children and Parenting, etc, and also something called “Marriage expectations.”  

            And I have met couples who have strengths in almost every area, and I commend them when we meet and have conversations together.             But I have to say that I can’t think of even one couple who has had a strength in one particular area:  “Marriage Expectations.”  

            Yep.  You heard it right.  EVERYONE, it seems, has unrealistic expectations when they are preparing to get married.  

            At least according to this inventory.  

            Everyone thinks (for example) that they could never doubt their partner’s love, that they will always feel the same way they do now, that the romance will never fade.

            Why am I thinking about this?  

            It’s because of the reading from 1^stCorinthians, one of the most well-known passages of the Bible.  

            Because I hear it, and read it, so often at weddings.  “Love is patient.  Love is Kind. Love does not insist on its own way. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Love never ends.”  

            These are beautiful words.  These are true words.  And – these are hard words. 

             Because love is beautiful, and love is heady, and love is wonderful and sometimes – love is hard.  

            And what I mean by that is – sometimes love requires us to do hard things.  Doesn’t it?  

            Maybe they don’t seem hard, when we are first in love.  

            But Love requires us to clean up messes, stick around during hard times,  go places you may not want to go.

            Love requires us to hold someone’s hand when they are dying. 

            Love is hard.  Not always, of course.  

            And it’s true that sometimes, when you love someone, hard things don’t seem so hard.  But not always.   But that’s not our expectation when we get married.  

            That’s the tricky thing about expectations.  

            And I think that’s also what is  going on in Nazareth, Jesus’ hometown, when he goes there to preach.  

            Because it’s hard to understand how everyone goes so quickly from praising Jesus’ gracious words to wanting to throw him off a cliff.        It’s too bad, really, that we heard part of this story last week – and part this week.  

            Because if we hear the whole thing at once, it sounds so strange.  How in the space of a few minutes – the people in that synagogue go from love – to anger.  

            From praising Jesus’ gracious words to trying to kill him.  And I think – at the heart – it’s about expectations.   

            The people in that synagogue love Jesus – and they have expectations.  Because 1) he’s from Nazareth, and they know him (they think) and  because 2) they have heard about all of the wonderful  things that he has been doing.  

            Healing people. Giving the blind sight.  Making the lame leap for joy.  

            And why wouldn’t they have expectations?  They love Jesus.  

            Jesus loves them. And they need healing just like everyone else.  

            If you are tempted to judge, think about it.  Don’t you need healing?  Don’t you need a miracle – at least sometimes?  

            I know I do – actually – all the time – and I tell you – week after week – that the body of Christ is not just given – but that he’s given for YOU.  

            That’s a miracle. And you need it.  I need it.  We all need it.  Every single one of us.  No exceptions.  

            So they love Jesus. And Jesus loves them.  That’s the truth.

            But he doesn’t do what they expect him to do that day.  

            Which is hard.

            And he doesn’t tell them the things they want to hear that day.

            Which is also hard.

            Instead of telling them that they are special and beloved, he tells them about other people who God loves – he reminds them that there are others that God loves – and that God has healed – who are not of their tribe.

            The widow of Zarephath, whose son Elijah raised from the dead.

            The Syrian general Naaman.  Healed of leprosy by the prophet Elisha.

             This was not the message that they were expecting.  And they tried to throw Jesus over a cliff because of it.

            I saw a t-shirt a few years ago.  I still remember it because it made me laugh, and then it made me think.  The front of the t-shirt said, “Jesus loves you”, and the back said, “but I’m his favorite.”

            Right?   It’s funny – and sometimes – it’s true.  All the jokes about heaven – and how one Christian group or another think they are the only ones up there.  

            And Jesus loved them, but not just them.

            And Jesus loved them, but he had a mission even more expansive than they were able to imagine.

            Offered to more people than they could imagine.

            And a healing deeper than they could imagine.

            Not just making the lame walk, making the blind see, cleansing lepers.

            Not just feeding people for a day.

            But life that never ends.

            Love that never ends.

             Love is hard.   Because sometimes you have to do a hard thing, for someone you love. 

            You have to clean up messes.  You have to stick around when you want to leave.  You have to go places you don’t want to go.  You have to hold someone’s hand when they are dying.

            Sometimes, you have to die, for someone you love.

            Love is patient and kind. Love does not insist on its own way. Love does not rejoice in wrong, but rejoices in the truth.  Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

            Love never ends. Even though you try to throw him off a cliff, even though you turn your back, even though you shout “Crucify him!”, love never ends.  This love never ends.

            And this is grace. 

            Hard Grace.

            Grace for you.  

            This is the place where I want you to know that – there’s grace for you.  Every single one of you.  No exceptions.  

            There’s healing for you. There’s life for you.  

            But not just you. For people who are not here yet.  

            For people we don’t know – and people we might not even like.  

            For rich and poor. For friend and stranger.  For liberal and conservative.   For babies and 100 year olds.  

            Whoever you are -- There’s grace for YOU.  

            AMEN

            

            

            

Unrealistic Expectations

As part of my work, I have meetings and conversations with couples prior to their weddings.  We don't just plan the ceremony.  We also use an inventory which purports to measure the couple's "Strengths" and "Growth Areas".  The inventory gives us many possibilities for conversations that we can have about their relationship.

Some of the possible strengths (or 'growth areas') named are:  Communication, Conflict Resolution, Relationship Roles, Family and Friends, Spiritual Beliefs, Children and Parenting.

You get the idea.

Then there is this one:  "Marriage Expectations."  The idea is that if your expectations for marriage are "realistic", then this is a strength for you.  If your expectations for marriage are "unrealistic", then this is a growth area.

I've been using this inventory for a long time, and I'll tell you what:  I can't think of one couple who scored well on "Marriage Expectations."  Not one.  They all thought that their partner would never disappoint them, that nothing could make them doubt each other's love, that the romance would never fade.

I've taken to reporting these results with a preface:  "Marriage Expectations is a growth area for you," I explain.  "But as far as I can tell, it is for everyone.  Maybe no one would get married if they had realistic expectations."   We laugh about that a little, and go on to discuss their results, bursting their marriage pre-conception balloon, but as gently as possible.

I can't help thinking that the same dynamics could be applied to pastors and congregations.

I realize that there are a number of problems with this analogy.  No, I am not married to my congregation.  We aren't even dating.  But it is a kind of relationship, and I think that congregations have expectations of their pastors, some based in hope, and some based in tradition, and based in some sort of mythic golden age.  They might have expectations of what their pastor will look like, or what kind of a personality she will have (or even whether their pastor will be a 'he' or a 'she').  They might have expectations of what kind of leader their pastor will be, or how he will pray or sing or preach.  They might have expectations of what their pastor can or will do:  bring back the fifties, attract young families, be great with youth or old people, evangelize the neighborhood.

Some of these expectations will (possibly) be unrealistic.

Pastors have expectations of congregations, too.  They have expectations of what their congregations might look like, their piety, their worship life, their eagerness to come out to a Bible study or help with soup suppers or go on a mission trip.  They have expectations (perhaps) about a congregation's faith or their doubts, their neediness or their strength.

Some of these expectations will be unrealistic.

Maybe that's natural.  Maybe it's part of all of life, or at least, every relationship.  We do our best to tell the truth, and to hear the truth about each other.  But in the end marriage, friendship, and entering into every kind of community is a leap of faith.  We love each other and we hurt each other.  We soar and we fall flat on our faces.  We blame each other during the rough patches.  The romance fades.  We are bound to disappoint each other, sometimes.

So we continue to harbor unrealistic expectations.  That's just the way it is.  Only one thing is needful:  not to lower expectations, but to take another leap of faith, and practice forgiveness.

To Look At The Heart

Today, I sat with a woman whose husband is dying.  We sat by his bed, held his hand, prayed a little, told a few stories.

They have been married over 70 years.  They both walk with canes.  They would hold each other up, watch out for one another.

"My friends wondered what I saw in him," she said.  "Because of the age difference.  And because he walked with a limp.  He had polio when he was a child.  But I didn't see the limp, not until they they mentioned it.  I looked at his heart.  I didn't see the limp.  I saw his heart, and it was strong and good.

"My friends -- a lot of them got divorced." She didn't exactly say it with a tone of triumph, but as a simple statement -- it pays to look at the heart, and not at outward things.

"They said it wouldn't last," she said again, "because of the age difference."

"What age difference is there?'  I asked her.  I never knew.

"Seven years," she said.  "I'm 90 and he is 97.  Back in those days you only married someone your own age.  So they said it wouldn't last.  That, and the limp.  They wondered what I saw in him."

They have been taking care of each other for over 70 years, each of them keeping an eye on the other, each of them holding the other one up, each of them looking at the heart.

We held hands, we prayed, we told stories.  I made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and said, "You are sealed with the Holy Spirit, and marked with the cross of Christ forever."

For 70 years, when they held each other up, it was Jesus who was holding on, through their faithfulness.  For 70 years, when they kept an eye on each other, it was Jesus watching out for them, through their faithfulness.

If you look at the heart, that's what you see.

Fully Known

I went to a wedding the weekend before last, a wedding where I did not officiate.  So instead of preaching and coaxing vows out of nervous brides and grooms, instead of praying and being on high alert at all times, I was listening.  Intently.

I suppose that I listened intently at least in part because I will confess that, after twenty years officiating at weddings, and after fifteen years of marriage, I cannot admit to being an expert on marriage.  I am humbler every year.  I don't know if this is a good thing or not.

There were three scripture readings:  one was chosen by the bride, one by the groom.  The third they chose together.   A nice touch, I thought, when the officiant launched into her message,what I chose to call a "substantial sermon" (a compliment, by the way).  It was substantial and exhortatory without devolving one of those sermons which warns young couples about the high rate of divorce.

The bride and groom chose 1st Corinthians 13 as their joint scripture reading.  I found myself stuck on a particular phrase that day, and it wasn't the one about love bearing and enduring all things.  It wasn't the one about love being patient and kind.  It was that phrase about being fully known.  I realize that this is part of a large phrase about being a grown up and finally knowing fully, even as I have been 'fully known.'

And it is possible that I heard wrong, but I think that I heard, at one point, about the blessing of being 'fully known' in the context of marriage (not the fact that God knows us fully, something that we can't do one thing about, and is a blessing because, for some reason or another God knows us fully and continues to bear and endures all things with us).

And I wondered what kind of a blessing it is to be 'fully known' in the context of marriage, as far as it is even possible.  I know that being fully known for the last fifteen years or so has felt like a mixed blessing for me, sometimes.  Before I was married, I think I had more illusions about myself.  I believed myself to be a nicer person than I do now, for example.  Sometime after we are married,  we stop showing each other only our best selves, and someone else knows us, REALLY knows us, not just our odd or heartwarming quirks, but our secret fears, our besetting sins, our failures.  ("Did you ever consider divorce?" I once asked a woman married over 50 years.  "No," she replied.  "Murder, but not divorce."  And the thing is, I know that she really loved her husband.  Fully.)

It struck me that this can be a vulnerable place to be.  When we get married, we put ourselves in someone else's hands.  We entrust ourselves to someone else.   And we will disappoint each other sometimes.

As for me, even though I loved that substantial wedding sermon, I am not sure I could preach it.  Even though everything the pastor said was true, and everything I agreed with, instead of exhortations, I see visions.  I see a vision before me of an old man who visited his wife every day when she had Alzheimer's.  When she would get anxious, and say, "Don't leave me," he would reply, "I am not going anywhere."  I know, I didn't know their whole lives together, I didn't know them fully, but I would just get this glimpse, and that would help.

Today, this is the vision I am seeing, though:  a couple from my church who celebrated 70 years of marriage yesterday.  They were at our Saturday night service, sitting in the front like they always do.  The small chapel community signed a card for them and gave it to them at the close of the service.  (This was not my idea, but the idea of another one of the saints.)  They asked if I would give them a blessing, too.

"The first 70 years are the hardest," was the piece of wisdom they had to share as they left.

And then I watched them as they walked out the door to their car.  In one hand, they each held a cane that they used to steady themselves.

Still, they walked out holding hands.

I don't have any wisdom.  Less and less every year, actually.

Just the vision of the hands holding the cane, and holding each other.

Maybe that's the way to do it, until we are finally and forever fully known.

"We're Not That Different"

During the first few years at my current congregation, I used to be in charge of Small Group Ministry.  I trained leaders and thought of small group ideas, and actually led some small groups, too.

One of my favorite small group ideas was a marriage enrichment group for couples called "Empowering Couples."  I think I had three smalls groups of couples that met about six times, using a prepared book that listed couples strengths and ways you could strengthen your relationship in  about twelve different areas.  At the first meeting, the couples always chose the five areas they most wanted to work on.

I say it was my favorite small group idea, but it was hard to get couples to join.  When I finally got a group together, we had a good time, but I think people were nervous about trusting each other at first.

One fall, I had just two couples who were committed to meet together.  A man from the congregation called up one day, and asked if he and his partner could attend.

I had to admit (to myself), I hadn't even considered the idea.  I knew that this man was in a committed same-gender relationship, although his partner attended a different congregation.  (Like many couples, he preferred traditional worship, but his partner liked a more contemporary service.)  But it never occurred to me that they might want to, you know, work on their relationship, make it better.  It had never occurred to me that they might care about things like communication, conflict resolution, money, role relationships, spiritual values.

I told him that because the numbers were few, and it was important for the couples to be able to trust and share with one another, I would have to ask them how they would feel if he and his partner joined the group.  He said he understood that, and asked about the different components of the program.

I may have said something dumb, but I'm pretty sure he forgave me.  I'm thinking that I probably said something about being surprised that they would be interested in the group, to which he replied, "Well, you know, we're not that different."

In other words, we have fights, want to communicate better, share our faith, bring our work home, try to figure out who does what in the home, care for children and pets, navigate family relationships, fight about money:  all of the things that all couples do.

"We're not that different."

In the end both couples said it would be okay for this man and his partner to attend.  But, in the meantime, they both decided to buy the books and do the study on their own.  I suppose they didn't want to make an issue of it then.  They just wanted to improve their own relationship, and I hope this book helped them.

They are still together.

And now, because my state has legalized same gender marriage, they are getting married, although not in my church.

I wish them well.  Because I know that marriage is a hard work, but it is a blessing to have someone by your side, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part.  It's hard work, learning to communicate and resolve conflicts, to share finances and trust, to navigate family relationships and household chores, and trust in God, too.  And it's a blessing to have someone who will pray with you, rejoice with you, make you soup when you are sick, hold the ladder for you when you are painting the house, go to church with you, walk with you every day of your life.

We're not that different.

Family Ties

Before I left church this afternoon, I ripped a small piece of paper off the wall behind my desk.  It has been taped there since September of 1999, shortly after I got married.  I had been asked to write the weekly Newsletter column, and this is what I came up with:

From the Pastor

"I've had a pretty high "learning curve" the last couple of months -- a new house here in Richfield, a new name, a new husband, a new family.  There have been occasions on which I have forgotten my name -- writing checks, for example, or in these columns -- but other people have forgotten, too.  I had a few years to get used to my old name, so I'm sure the adjustment will take awhile.

"Of course, the name is probably the least of the changes.  Instead of thinking only about a cranky old cat and myself, I am continually thinking about three other people -- my husband and his two boys.  When I go grocery shopping, when I clean the house, when I look at my weekly calendar, I can't be quite as selfish as I was.  My vision has become wider.  I belong to more people now.

"It seems similar to what happens when we are baptized and as we grow in Christ.  It's a name change that means so many others things.  When we are baptized, we receive Christ's name, and all of a sudden we are related to many more people.  As we grow and learn more about our family name, it's harder and harder for us to think only of ourselves.  Our vision becomes wider than it used to be.  As it is written in our baptismal liturgy, "As we live with him and with his people, we grow in faith, lobve, and obedience to the will of God."

"...And with his people."  Now that we have a new name, we learn to live with one another under this roof, as I'm learning to live with more people under one roof.  It can be a pretty high learning curve sometimes, but it's how we learn to be God's family together, considering one another's needs and feelings, listening to one another, widening our vision."

"Who are my mother and my brothers?" Jesus asks this week.  It is an uncomfortable question.  Or, maybe it's a comforting question.  Sometimes we all feel like orphans, looking for someone to share a road with us.  Sometimes the vision of a few people in a little house is all we can handle.  Other times we look around at the people who share the table with us, and don't recognize them. 

Who are our mother and our brothers and our sisters?  We can't get around it, our vision is wider now, and sometimes this feels like a burden.  And other times, it is the greatest joy imaginable.

Friday Five: Unexpected Thanks Edition

Jan over at Revgalblogpals has this Friday Five for us:

With the American holiday of Thanksgiving being less than a week away, I tried to think of some questions for Friday Five that could be connected to this, but in a new way. So here is my one try:

Name five things that were unexpected in your life that you are now grateful for.
1.  My husband.  After 41 (or so, but who's counting) years of singlehood, I got married.  Very unexpected.  But very good. 

2.  Our Dog Scout.  Before Scout, I was a cat person.  I was the kind of cat person who let my cat sleep on the bed at night.  And I had a cat who loved to curl up in my lap.  But, the first thing that happened was that my husband was allergic to cats.  The second thing that happened was that we met Scout.  Now, we are Totally Bonded.  And I am Very Grateful.

3.  Being a Pastor.  When I was a little girl, women could not be pastors.  I am surprised and grateful that women can be pastors, that God called me, and that a congregation also called me to be their pastor.

4.  New friends.  I am grateful for Fran, Terri, Lindy, Marsha, Stephanie, Jan, Amy (Dogblogger), Robin, etc. etc.  Some of you I have met.  Some of you I still hope to meet someday.  I never imagined that I could be good friends with people I have never met (or met just once).  (sorry no links right now, maybe a little later....)

5.  Knitting.   I've known how to knit since the 7th grade, but I've never made any progress - until the past year.  I'm surprised at myself, and grateful, because my progress is due to patient people willing to work backwards with a left-hander.

Marriage Meme

My friend Wyrdbyrd tagged me for this one, just in time for Valentine's Day:

1. Where / how did you meet?
At church. He was the new director of the church choir. I was a second soprano and prospective seminary student.
2. How long have you known each other?
hmmm... that would be 1988, I think?
3. How long after you met did you start dating?
Not officially until 1998, ten years later. It's a long story.
4. How long did you date before you were engaged?
Just six months, I think.
5. How long was your engagement?
Again, about six months.
6. How long have you been married?
Eight and a half years
7. When is your anniversary?
July 31st
8. How many people came to your wedding reception?
The church one? Oh, dear, I didn't count. 200 or 250?
9. What kind of cake did you serve?
Sheet cake and a Norwegian wedding cake, too.
10. Where was your wedding?
At the church where I serve. We invited everyone to a cake reception in the fellowship hall. Some people came.

11. What did you serve for the meal?
No meal at the church, just cake. Later on we had a "family only" dinner at a nearby hotel. I honestly don't remember what we served. But one of my husband's musician friends played piano all through the dinner.
12. How many people were in your bridal party?
Husband's older son was best man, and younger son read a lesson. My sister was matron of honor. My nephew was an usher, and my two neices were flowers girls.
13. Are you still friends with them all?
Yes, we are family, after all. I think his sons still like me.
14. Did your spouse cry during the ceremony?
No. I didn't either, but we were both very nervous.
15. Most special moment of your wedding day?
The recessional hymn was a song written by my husband, to Psalm 118. Called "O Give Thanks". My mom and dad got us a suite in the hotel where our reception was for our wedding night. That was special, too.
16. Any funny moments?
My two neices did not get along so well on that day. There's a picture of them both, with their arms crossed in front of them. It's funny now; probably not then. They were both cute, though.
17. Any big disasters?
I can't remember any. No, those came later.
18. Where did you go on your honeymoon?
To Disney world with my husband's sons! Later on, we took a little trip by ourselves to Door County. We stayed in a bed and breakfast, and made sure we had fish boils.
19. How long were you gone?
Only 5 days. The Door County Trip was even shorter.
20. If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change?
Hmmm. It was incredibly hot the day before the wedding, but it cooled down some for the day. If I could have, I also would have taken a longer honeymoon.

21. What side of the bed do you sleep on?
Right side.
22. What size is your bed?
Queen.
23. Greatest strength as a couple?
We have a lot of common interests: music, crossword puzzles, church, reading.
24. Greatest challenge as a couple?
We have a lot of common neuroses, and neither of us has a lot of money.
25. Who literally pays the bills?
Both of us. We divide things up.
26. What is your song?
We don't have one; I like all the songs he writes, although they are mostly church songs.
27. What did you dance your first dance to?
Don't remember.
28. Describe your wedding dress.
White, sleeveless, long, and simple.
29. What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding?
Not very many flowers, mostly what I carried, and what the flower girls carried. I actually don't remember a lot.
30. Are your wedding bands engraved?
No. But my rings are specially made by a local man we got to know because he also made the rings for a friend of mine.

Okay, now you've made me want to go through my wedding album. You may regret this

And I tag: Barb, Marie, and Katherine E.

Eight Years Together

Today is our Anniversary. So, if I count backwards, I guess I was 42, not 41, when we got married. Oops. I guess I'm trying to be slightly more youthful.

We don't have anything special planned (I don't think so anyway.) I'll let you know if I'm wrong.

I do have a worship meeting tonight. But I'm going to guess it'll be a slightly shorter meeting than usual.

I'm leading it.

Have a toast on our behalf...

short domestic conversation

My husband thought I should post this:

He was having a problem with some phone conversations regarding business matters (felt that he just wasn't getting anywhere with getting his requests understood or acted upon).

Husband: They just think I'm a grumpy old man.

Me: Nonsense! They don't know you're old.

Husband: (raucous laughter, then pause) That was a joke, right?

Me: Right.