Pentecost 12A/Lectionary 22
August 31, 2014
Matthew 16:21-28
Traditionally,
we consider Labor Day weekend the end of summer. Even if the weather remains
warm a bit longer (please, please remain warm a bit longer!), the summer is
over because the kids are back at school, programs start up again, vacation
slows to a crawl, and everyone snaps out of the laziness (or at least the
different sort of busy-ness) of summer and back into their regularly scheduled
lives.
So as we
have made our way toward Labor Day weekend, I have found myself reflecting on
how I spent my summer. Compared to last summer – which started with major
surgery and proceeded with getting married and buying a house – this summer was
rather mundane, and in the best possible way. While there were a couple very
busy weeks in there, mostly it was relaxing, with many mornings and evenings on
our porch, a couple of low-key vacations, going walking and running, some
gardening, reading, exploring my new neighborhood, doing morning prayer outside
amidst the sounds of nature and neighbors… It was a good summer.
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| My porch, where many hours were spent this summer. |
So why, with
all of these wonderful things to be grateful for, do I still find myself
thinking, “Ack! There’s so much I didn’t get done this summer! Where did the time
go?!” Of course, if I had done all of those things I had in mind, it wouldn’t
have been the relaxing, laid-back summer I have enjoyed so much. But isn’t this
indicative of the culture in which we live: if we haven’t done something, and have something to show for it, then it isn’t
successful.
The truth of
the matter is that in order to say “yes” to some life-giving things, you have
to say “no” to others. This has been the lesson I have been trying to learn
this summer, and it is one of the
But as the slowness of summer comes
to an end, I have been thinking about another part of discipleship, another
important way that we are called to “lose our life” for Christ’s sake so we
will find it… and that is Sabbath. Resting
in a way that is rejuvenating. Read this way, the discipleship Jesus suggests
is not, “Do more for Christ,” but rather, “Do less, but do it with Christ.”
What does
that look like, to do less, but do it with Christ? I don’t think it looks much
like the distracted, multi-tasking lives to which we have become accustomed.
Even as I wrote this sermon on Sabbath this week, I tried to do it in a restful
place – out of the office, out in nature – and yet I made the mistake of still
having a wireless signal, so I kept stopping to read an email, set up a
meeting, make some edits, read an article, get sucked into Facebook. You can’t
believe how much I got done while I was
writing this sermon! But that is how our lives look, isn’t it? Busy, busy,
busy, with hardly a moment to stop and take a deep breath, let alone sit and do
nothing at all. When was the last time you did nothing at all for any
significant amount of time? I don’t mean read a book or watch TV – I mean, just
sit there and listen to the wind, or marvel at the sky, or quietly remember
things from your childhood, or offer thanks and praise to God?
If you’re
like me, you don’t have time for things like that, because you have said yes to
too many other things! We are so good at saying yes to things, right? It
becomes a point of pride to see just how many things we can do, and pull it
off. The community looks up to us with admiration, we can feel good about
ourselves and our contributions to society, and things that need doing get
done. But I wonder if when Jesus urges us to “lose our lives,” if that might
mean learning to say no to some of those things that bring us such pride, so
that we won’t be so distracted that we can’t say YES to the life of praise and
thanks that is God’s Life?
Courtney
Martin tells a story about learning the importance of saying no as she learns
to prune apple trees. She writes: “It was a sunny
Saturday and Louise — well into her 70s, willowy, and often wearing a t-shirt
with some slogan of peace — showed me how each branch of the tree can only
“It felt sad to me at
first, twisting off these hopeful little apples and dropping them into a
bucket. They amassed quickly, collectively robbed of possibility. …. But then I
looked over and watched as Louise pruned without fanfare, gentle and direct.
She had lived long enough to know that in order for some things to thrive, some
things must die.
“You say no so you can say
yes. It’s sad in the way that all limitations are, but also liberating. You are
human and finite and precious and fumbling. This is your one chance to spend
your gifts, your attention, most importantly your love, on the things that
matter most. Don’t screw it up by being sentimental about what could have been
or delusional about your own capacity. Have the grace to acknowledge your own
priorities. Prune and survive.”[1]
I love that
she acknowledges how sad saying no can be – limitations are sad because they reveal to us our humanity. Indeed saying no
can feel like an even heavier cross to bear than finding time to help more! But
she also emphasizes the importance of saying no for the possibility of saying
yes to something greater – or in Jesus’ words, the importance of losing our
lives, so that we can find our lives in Christ.
I read a
very short book this summer by preacher Barbara Brown Taylor, called, “The
Practice of Saying No.” It was a lovely, life-giving reflection about Sabbath,
but I found that even as I loved what she had to say about this sort of
do-nothing rest – the sort where you really do nothing except listen and be,
the sort that that allows you to remember things, and grapple with things, and
relish in things… as divine as this sounds, I felt myself getting anxious. “I
don’t have time for that!” I thought. “When I have down-time, I want to get out
and finally do some weeding, or read that book that’s been calling to me from
my nightstand, or catch up on some emails.”
Ah, but there is the problem. That is
not giving up my life for Christ’s sake so that I might find it. That is
proceeding in my same old life – even though they are parts of life I may enjoy
– as if I know what is best for me,
rather than remembering that God rested on the 7th day, and gave us
that same command for rest, not to burden us further, but so that we would have
a chance to refresh and remember and be thankful for the one True Life that
comes from God.
Taylor finishes her reflection on
Sabbath by saying, “When
you live in God, your day begins when you lose yourself long enough for God to
find you, and when God finds you, you lose yourself
again in praise.” And
that’s really it, isn’t it? We may resist Sabbath because we have too much to
do, or because we like feeling important, but there is also a bit of fear –
fear that if we rest, we might just lose ourselves, or what we think
“ourselves” should be, or what we fancy ourselves to be. But Jesus’ own life,
death and resurrection show us that sometimes life has to be lost in order to
gain true life. Even as we can trust
in that eternal promise, Jesus also calls us to live it each and every day, by
saying no to the things that so quickly become stumbling blocks in our lives
with Christ and our relationship with God – and saying yes to quiet, dedicated
time being in God’s presence. We don’t stay lost there for long – soon enough we
are found again by God, and then we are free to “lose [ourselves] again in
praise.”
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| "Sweet praise" by Karla Dornacher |
Let us pray… Gracious God of rest and life: we keep ourselves so busy doing such
important work that it is often hard to remember your commandment to make time
to rest and simply be in your presence. Grant us the courage to find that time,
especially as the school year starts this week, trusting that when we lose
ourselves, we will always be found by you. In the name of the Father and the
Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[1]
Courtney E. Martin, “The Spiritual Practice of Saying No,” http://www.onbeing.org/blog/the-spiritual-art-of-saying-no/6718?page=1#comment-1573643.
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