Sticks and Stones

One of my favorite ways to exercise is to take long walks. Spending time outdoors relaxes and refreshes me. Walks have also become part of an ongoing spiritual practice that first emerged during my thirteen-month internship in rural Kansas; an experience that taught me to look for, and then expect to find, God in the ordinary, the mundane, and the hidden. Often, I simply enjoy spending time in the beauty and majesty of God’s majestic creation. Sometimes, particularly when I have spent time praying and thinking deeply about a biblical text, an image or a well-worn phrase, or a creative insight will surface during my walks. But sometimes, more often I suppose than I would like, nothing happens; particularly when I find myself challenged to bring my own voice to bear on the situation at hand or to take to heart Jesus’ calls to love and to seek the forgiveness of those whom I have wronged. To let go of the chains of anger, resentment, and hurt that have accumulated over the years.

Deep wounds.

Many of them long-scarred.

Others revealing the fresh scabs of recent hurts.

Then, one day while struggling to work through a particularly difficult text, IT hit me. Not an idea, but a thing. A brown rock jutting out of the gravel road during one of my daily walks. A beautiful brown stone. One that, once freed from its resting place by my walking stick, fit in my hand like a glove. It was a stone meant for me. A stone meant to remind me of my own sin; of how easy it is to cast stones and point out other people’s faults and failures instead of taking time to size up my own shortcomings. It was a stone also meant to remind me of how easy it can be to hurl insults and pointed barbs intended to knock others down a few pegs in order to make myself feel better and to mask my own insecurities and fears by inflicting pain on others; often those I care about the most, the people I love.

Actions that make it hard to forgive.

Actions that also make it hard to seek the forgiveness of those we hurt.

My brown stone, representative of my own sin, now occupies a prominent place on my desk, reminding me, “Let anyone among you without sin cast the first stone” (John 8:7). Sitting there as a silent sentinel of sorts and warning me not to sling barbs or point out others’ flaws and indiscretions. Reminding me to forgive and seek forgiveness of those I have wronged. In so doing, my ever-present study companion also beckons me to take seriously Jesus’ call to discipleship and example of all-inclusive love, mercy, and forgiveness.

Ultimately, the church is the community of the forgiven; beggars all standing in Christ’s breadline with outstretched hands; an image which points to the reality that we cannot, try as we might, save ourselves. We are, like it not, finite and limited creatures who are ransomed, redeemed, and forgiven by God. And having been reconciled to a God who extends grace upon grace, we cannot help but be transformed, even if in our stubbornness and stupidity we still find ourselves challenged not to judge, to forgive, and love as Christ loves us. And then, when my own frustrations and disappointments threaten to overwhelm me I recite the Lord’s Prayer and carefully ponder the words, “and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” It is a prayer spoken by Christ-followers throughout the ages. And having taken to heart the message conveyed, I am reminded to drop the stone in my hand. To stop throwing stones and to ask God to replace my own stone heart with a heart full of compassion and love; helping me to forgive others with a self-giving love flowing from the very heart of God, a love reflecting the reality of God’s own steadfast love for us.

Let Go of the Ladder

“Then what becomes of boasting?” asks the Apostle Paul in Romans 3:27.

His question is, particularly for people called and gathered together by the Holy Spirit to be the church for the sake of the world, one worth pondering.

Call it a biblical rumble strip of sorts; a carefully constructed question meant to grab our attention by jolting us out of our mental doldrums and making us sit up and take notice of what’s coming next.

And, like a rumble strip permanently embedded into the road to warn of an impending stop, we cannot — try as we might – avoid the inevitable. Nope. Evasion and denial won’t cut it this time.

“Then what becomes of boasting?”

It is, in my view, a question that challenges us to confront the many and varied ways that we are seduced by and ensnared by a worldly ethic of doing and achieving. An ethic shaped by a reward-and-punishment logic that seemingly impels us to cling to our worldly “If only” ladders with vise-like grips.

If only I work hard enough. If only I could earn good grades. If only I would lose weight. If only I would exercise more. THEN, just maybe, I’ll be loved, or liked, or admired.

We cling to our Spiritual “IF Only” ladders too. If only I pray harder. If only attend worship more often. If only I help others in need. If only I could resist the temptations of sin. THEN, maybe others will see that I’m a good person. THEN, maybe God will take notice and reward me. If Only … Then.

Sadly, far too often I, and perhaps some of you, can be deluded by the chorus of worldly values into believing “that it’s all about me.” And, as a result, we cling to our “If Only” Ladders of Success more than we care to admit. It happens in families. It happens in congregations. And it happens in places where we work, study, and socialize too.

After all, it’s hard not to let go of the worldly ladders that we cling to. Think about it. We’re constantly bombarded by messages highlighting our deficiencies and pointing out everything we don’t have. Persuasive ads and multimedia messages which do their best to persuade us that power, status, position, and things and bling can somehow satisfy the deepest longings of the human heart.

And, while desperately clinging to our spiritual ladders, we can also be deluded into believing that my lived piety, my demonstrated acts of kindness, my acts of Christian charity and love can, in a some kind of warped divine cosmic karma, merit favor with God.

In our exhausting scramble up our worldly and spiritual ladders of success we end up defining ourselves by the things we do – outward expressions of piety, charitable acts, and academic and professional achievements, instead of remembering whose we are – beloved children of God.

The truth of the matter is, we try our best to deny the reality “we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.”  Especially given the energy and effort we put into climbing our spiritual and worldly “IF ONLY” ladders.

When we are so focused on climbing our way to the top, one hard-earned rung at a time, that we may find ourselves knocking other people down a few pegs along the way by spreading half-truths, hurtful gossip, belittling, or judging. Thereby denying the reality that we’re all just beggars standing together with outstretched hands in Christ’s breadline. And, in the process, we end up distancing ourselves from other members of the body of Christ without even realizing it. Or, even worse, knowing precisely what we are doing.

Trapped in the rat race of life while clinging to our IF ONLY LADDERS with all our might. Putting all of our energy and effort into climbing the ladder one rung at a time, so much so that we end up measuring our own value and worth in light of worldly standards of success. Judging ourselves, and others, by what we do.

Yet somehow the biblical rumble strip from Romans 3 forces us to do what we seemingly can’t, or wont, do on our own. Slow down. Stop. Listen.

“Then what becomes of boasting” (3:27)? Nothing. “It is excluded,” writes Paul. “For since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they [all] are now justified by God’s grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood effective through faith”(3:23-25)

We, my sisters and brothers in Christ, are restored to a right relationship with God not by the law, nor by good works, but through God’s grace. The generous and unmerited outpouring of all that is good, all that we need, issuing from the very heart of God with no strings attached (Martin Marty, Lutheran Questions, Lutheran Answers 79).  And, receiving the promise by faith in Christ Jesus, a response worked in us by the Holy Spirit that orients and shapes our lives, we are reconciled to God.

Let go of the ladder.

We don’t need to do anything, earn anything, say anything, accomplish anything, or buy anything to earn God’s love. God loves you, accepts you, and desires to put you (and me) in right relationship with God and with one another.

Let go of the ladder.

God comes to you!

God comes to you in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

God comes to you in the waters of Holy Baptism, claiming you as God’s beloved child, clothing you with God’s mercy and forgiveness, and raising you to new life in Christ.

God comes to you at the Lord’s Table where you receive the body of Christ given for you, and drink from the cup of salvation shed for you, for the forgiveness of your sins (and my sins).

And the Crucified and Risen Lord comes to you now. In the midst of the muck, messiness, and brokenness of our lives. Walking with you and me in the midst of our pain, sin, alienation, and shame. Saying, “I tell you now, your sins are forgiven.” Extending grace upon grace that is not deserved, and forgiveness that is not earned.