Sermon: Wailing into dancing (April 14, 2013)

This is definitely an example of one of those sermons you preach to yourself. Basically, it is my internal dialogue this week, as much personal reflection as it is sermon, truly a "life meets ministry" sermon.

Easter 3C

Acts 9:1-6, Psalm 30

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

         Today we hear the story of Paul’s conversion – from Saul to Paul, from persecutor of the church to promoter of the church. Such a great story: this guy who was the greatest enemy of the church, “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord,” and as he is actively trying to tear down the church this blazing light from heaven knocks him down and blinds him and calls him out. Friends have to lead a confused and sightless Saul into town where he encounters Ananias who has been told by the Lord that he must talk to this enemy of Christ. Ananias does as he is told, explaining to Saul what had happened to him on the road, and then this great line: “something like scales fells from Saul’s eyes, and his sight was restored.” And Saul was baptized, and began proclaiming the good news of Christ, and eventually became Paul, the guy we know and love who wrote much of the New Testament.

         There are so many cool parts of this story… but I admit that when I read it, I often feel a little jealous! I sort of wish I had such a cool and dramatic conversion story, something that would draw people in, make them say, “Wow, if something like that could happen to her, maybe this God and this faith are worth considering.” Instead, my story is, “I was born into a pastor’s family and went to church every single week, sometimes twice, for my whole life, then I majored in religion, then I was a missionary, then I went to seminary, now I’m a pastor and will have my own pastor’s kids someday.” It’s not a very compelling story. No flashing light from heaven, no sudden “a-ha!” moment, no scales falling from my eyes and sudden enlightenment. Even my call to ministry story is more logical than mystical: I started thinking that maybe I could be a pastor, and then I applied to seminary. For someone like me who loves a good story, it’s kind of a bummer.

         But maybe I do have a good conversion story, and in order to find it, we need to broaden our understanding of what conversion is. Paul’s story sets the bar pretty high as far as how he actually become a Christian… but the thing about becoming a Christian is that it is not a once and done sort of deal. You don’t suddenly get baptized, confess Christ, and then you live a life of devout and unwavering discipleship and nothing ever goes wrong and everything in life is hunky-dory because you are a Christian. By no means! Conversion is something we might do every day of our lives, as we face our various travails and challenges, frequently turning this way and that before finally turning back toward God. We are constantly converting! And so I think that the conversion story in our readings today that might better suit many of us and our day-to-day conversions, comes not from Paul, but from the Psalm.

         I remember the first time I really noticed Psalm 30. It was while I was living in Slovakia. I’d been there about a month, and had just arrived in my village – after spending the first month there with the other Americans in my group, I was now all alone in this tiny village. I was desperately homesick, and doubting that I should be there at all, and I spent a lot of time crying. In an effort to cultivate a spiritual discipline, I started reading through several Psalms each day. Although I had never before written in a Bible, when I got to Psalm 30, I started underlining and putting exclamation marks in the margins. “Weeping spends the night, but joy comes in the morning.” Yes! “You have turned my wailing into dancing.” Please, Lord! Though the Psalm spoke in past tense, I understood this as my prayer, that this would soon become my own past tense. Joy would come in the morning. My wailing would be turned to dancing!

         I had a similar experience this week in my office. It has not been an easy week for me, as many of you know, with many big health decisions to be made. I was grumpy on Monday morning, to say the least. As is my custom in sermon preparation, I read the texts assigned for today aloud to myself in my office… and by the end of the Psalm, I was weeping. Once again, I knew: God would turn my wailing into dancing, and would clothe me with joy. God would convert my heart and bring me through this trial, just as God had done so many times before. And indeed this marked a turning point for me – I suddenly became very aware of the blessings God was putting in my path, from the surprising kindness of strangers, to old friends reconnecting, to a deeper sense of gratitude for the abundant gifts I have in this life. They had all been there all along, but it was not until my heart was converted that I was able to see them.

         It’s a different sort of conversion that the Psalmist sings. It’s not the same as Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus, but it is a conversion, nonetheless. A conversion from frustration and confusion to understanding and acceptance. From darkness, to enlightenment. From doubt and despair to hope and fulfillment.

         Such conversions tend to happen when we are not prepared, right? Or perhaps more accurately, when we are prepared for something else than what life throws us. Such conversions blindside us, knocking us down when we least expect it: when a job is lost, or an illness diagnosed, or a relationship broken, or a loved one taken from us. We put such careful plans in place, have so many hopes for our lives and our futures, and then BAM, everything changes. We find ourselves, with the Psalmist, “down in the pit.” We are sad, confused, angry. We may not even have the words to pray at all, certainly not to praise any God that would let this happen!

         This is when conversion is possible. Saul was knocked down, blinded, confused, approached by a stranger who told him the will of the Lord, and suddenly, he saw. Something like scales fell from his eyes, and he saw and understood how the Lord would work in him. He was converted, from hate and despair to love and purpose.

         And that is a story we see in our lives all the time. In today’s Psalm, the Psalmist begins in praise, in joy, on solid ground. He writes, “While I felt secure, I said, I shall never be disturbed. You, LORD, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains.” That’s a wonderful place to be, but it is not the place of one who is ready to grow and be transformed, is it? It is not until we are knocked down, maybe even blinded like Saul was on that road to Damascus, that we suddenly become aware of our need – our need for God, our need for conversion and transformation. I have a colleague who said it very well: “being happy is great and all, but happiness doesn’t have a whole lot to do with transformation.”

         And transformation, conversion, is what this faith is all about. Yes, Paul’s dramatic conversion story that day on the road to Damascus is a wonderful story about becoming a Christian, but conversion and transformation didn’t finish on that road. It also didn’t start on that road. The transformation of life as we know it started on that Sunday morning at early dawn when some women discovered that God could transform death into everlasting life, that fear and sadness could be converted into love and joy – indeed that wailing could and would be transformed into dancing.

         This happened on that Easter morning, it happened on the road to Damascus, and it happens still in our day-to-day lives. This is the promise of the resurrection: that God will continually bring life out of death, and transform our wailing into dancing. I had a profound experience of that this week, and I’m sure you have had similar experiences: times when you found yourself in darkness and in pain, and were confronted with light, healing, and direction. Times when you suffered, when “weeping spent the night,” but when you turned toward God, “joy came in the morning.” That conversion – that is the power of our God.

         Let us pray. Transforming God, we sometimes find ourselves weeping and wailing through the night, unable to understand or accept our circumstances. Help us to trust that your promise to us is to turn our death into life, our mourning into joy, and our wailing into dancing. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.