My God Would Never…

I would rather not even hear this morning’s Scripture readings, much less preach on them. Even the well-known passage from Hebrews, which I have always found comforting, sounds threatening to me today when I hear it within the context of the other appointed readings for the day. Some of you will remember that last week I expressed the certainty that God would be present with us in worship this Sunday, as God is with us every Sunday in worship, to help transform us more and more fully into the richness of God’s ultimate promise to us all. At first glance it seems inconceivable that these readings, especially the Gospel, could be part of any positive personal transformation. And yet, upon deeper reflection… I think that is exactly what these readings are about. These readings are about the nature of God as a transforming God. And they are a powerful challenge to our willingness, or lack of willingness, to be transformed.

What is your first reaction to the Gospel passage we just heard? If it is like mine and most people’s it begins: "God would never…" God would never bring conflict rather than peace. God would never create enmity within a family. God would never…

"God would never" is a pretty absolute statement. Pretty self-assured. I mentioned last week the EFM training conference I just attended. One of the exercises for which I had leadership was one in which we were trying to explore what, in EFM lingo, we call the "Position source." I was trying to encourage people in the group to articulate some of their personal position statements. These are "I" statements… I believe… I feel… I know that… The question isn’t where these positions came from, what may have formed them within us. The point is that we have them. And they are ours. However they got into us, they are in us. They have become intertwined with our DNA. These aren’t memorized creeds; they are our deep, gut level, unfiltered beliefs (positive or negative) about the world we live in. To elicit position statements from the seminar participants, I asked them to complete a series of statements. Statements like: "I wish young people today… dot, dot, dot." The way in which you finish that statement reveals a lot of your personal gut level positions about young people in general and about the culture in which they and we live. Another statement I assigned them was this one: "God would never… dot, dot, dot." Sentences that begin "God would never" almost always say a lot more about us and our gut level positions than they do about God. I am sure that my God would never…

We all create our God in our image to our liking. This morning’s readings remind us to be wary of that practice.

It does seem to be an irresistible tendency within human nature to fashion God out of our own self-image. A light hearted example. Some of you will have noticed that a very substantial portion of a tree in the park across the street has broken and fallen on the orange man. In conversation with a parishioner I remarked that it must be an "act of God." An act of my God. I am absolutely sure that my God shares my perspectives on what is good art and therefore has acted to crush the orange man.  We project our own perspectives onto God.

With slightly less flippancy I would point out that a lot of Episcopalians really act as though they are certain that musically God prefers Bach and Ralph Vaughan Williams to anything involving a tambourine. Quite a few fervent Christians are equally convinced of the other side of that statement. And, of course, Jesus artistically represented with Northern European features adorns scores of churches across northern Europe and North America. One thing of which we may be absolutely certain with respect to the historical Jesus is that he did not look remotely European.

Some of these projections of our selves and our positions onto God are more significant than others. But we must always remember that, at best, they limit God’s being and God’s nature. And at worst our projections distort or contradict God’s true nature.

God would never… My God would never ask me to risk my financial security. My God would not really expect me to sacrifice my favorite TV show or disrupt my regular routine for some church fellowship event. My God would understand—does understand—that my job, my obligations, my commitments, my peace… are very important. My God would never exclude anyone from the Lord ’s Table. My God would never welcome people who have done that, unrepentant, to his holy fellowship. On the whole, surely, my God doesn’t really expect my faith to be life changing… except maybe in ways I’m comfortable with.

All of these are definitions of God created in our image, projections of our own positions onto God.

My God would never create conflict within my family or any family. And yet Scripture and the history of the church are full of examples where the presence of God does just that. Every commentary I have read on this Gospel passage points out that Jesus’ words are to be taken as descriptive, not prescriptive. Jesus is not prescribing or directing behavior. He is describing the reality that may await people who faithfully follow him. Jesus does not demand that every one of us turn on the members of our family, but if members of our family really force us to choose somehow between them and following Jesus, what choice would we make?

My God would never expect me to abandon or alienate my family members… Are you sure? The witness of Scripture and the witness of the saints are full of examples of people who found themselves in positions where they were required to do just that. Think of Abraham in last week’s reading. He abandoned his homeland and his people to follow the path of God’s promise. James and John, sons of Zebedee, turned their backs and left their father alone amid the fishing nets to follow Jesus. Scripture does not tell us what their father said as they left. And this is a pure flight of imagination, but think about Paul. The zealous and prominent Pharisee, well-known for his public efforts to defend the Torah and maintain the orthodoxy of the law. His mother must have been proud! I wonder if she was still alive at the time of his conversion to faith in Jesus Christ. If so, I do not imagine that it was a peaceful time within that family. Following Christ is not always easy or comfortable or peaceful. The potential for family discord is just one example.

Gentle St. Francis placed himself in direct opposition to his father when he chose to renounce all material values and serve the poor in God’s name. And do you know the story of Perpetua? Perpetua was a young widow, perhaps in her early 20’s, in Carthage in the third century. She was preparing for baptism as a Christian when the emperor Septimius Severus decreed that all persons should sacrifice to the divinity of the emperor, something a Christian could not do. Perpetua was arrested. Her father entreated… directed… her to renounce Christianity. A young woman in that day, in that culture, did not defy her father. But before her father and before the Roman authorities she said, "Christiana sum." "I am a Christian." She was mangled by wild beasts in the arena and then killed by the sword of a Roman soldier.

"Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus." Perpetua is among that great cloud of witnesses, those saints of the faith, that Hebrews refers to… the actions of her life are a witness to faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and an encouraging example to us.

But my God doesn’t expect me to be a saint. Really? If God doesn’t expect us all to be saints, that God hardly seems worth having. If God doesn’t offer each one of us transformation into holiness, into saintliness, why are we here? A God created in our own image, reflecting our own positions cannot transform us. But the one true God can.

But how do we know? How do we know the difference between the true voice of the Lord and the voice, as Jeremiah says, that comes just of our own dreams? It is not easy to hear and interpret God’s true call to us in our lives. If we are to faithfully discern God’s will for each of us, we must begin by listening to a breadth of voices beyond ourselves. Within the context of our Anglican heritage and within the setting of a faith community, we must listen to Scripture, to the tradition or teaching of the church, to the human reason and perspective of fellow Christians.

Scripture, tradition and reason. We must listen deeply to all the voices of Scripture, whether or not we are comfortable with their message. Jeremiah reminds us that the true Word of the Lord has the power of hammer or chisel to sculpt or remold us. Listen to the tradition or teaching of the church as it is offered to us across the ages. It is offered in the words and resolutions of church councils from the Council of Nicea, which gave us the Nicene Creed, to the next Convention of the Diocese of Chicago, which will give us the voice of a new bishop.  The teaching of the church comes to us in the words of the Book of Common Prayer. And listen to the reasonable discourse and insight of other Christians. Bring your specific, individual questions of discernment or call into the conversation of the Christian community. The voices of Scripture, tradition and reason. Held in balance, none dominant over the other. Interpreted within community. These will bring us the true Word of the Lord that has the power to transform us and make us new. To make us holy.

And if you hear a voice within yourself saying, "My God would never ask me to follow there… God would never expect me to…  God would never..." Before you listen to just that voice, ask around. You never know.