Trusting in God's Steadfast Love (Psalm 52)

 Since I have been gone—and quite busy—these past few weeks, I started work on this sermon a month ago, before I went to camp. I didn’t know what world-shattering, cataclysmic headlines would be in the news during that time, but I was pretty sure there would be some, since such headlines seem to appear on an almost daily basis these days.

I was pretty sure that, whatever events transpired while I was away, many of them would do little to ease the sense of anxiety and dread that many are feeling in these times.

So, I chose for today this psalm (which I’m about to read), which is one of the lectionary readings for today. It is a psalm attributed to King David, written by him in response to a very difficult moment in his life—a moment that brought him a great deal of anxiety for his own future.

The event itself is described in 1 Samuel 22. There, we read about how David—not yet king—was fleeing from the wrath of King Saul. David was in hiding, and King Saul demanded to know where he was. Surely somebody knew, and somebody would tell him.

Well, there were people who knew. But they all refused to reveal where David was hiding. All of them, except for Doeg the Edomite.

Doeg told King Saul that he saw David go to Ahimelech, who was the high priest in the town of Nob.

Saul then summoned Ahimelech and all the priests from Nob. When Ahimelech defended David before Saul, Saul ordered his guards to kill Ahimelech and all the priests who came with him. But the guards all refused. No one was willing to kill the priests of Nob. 

Except for Doeg the Edomite.

Doeg killed Ahimelech and the 85 priests who were with him. Then Doeg went to Nob and killed everyone there, including all the women and children, and even the livestock.

David felt terrible about this. He felt that he was, in some way, responsible for all these deaths. And he worried that Saul would find him; yet at the same time, he trusted in the Lord to protect him.

And that’s where this psalm comes in…

In this psalm, there are two appearances of the word Selah. You may remember that scholars aren’t really sure what this word Selah means, but it seems to be some kind of musical instruction. Maybe the person reciting or singing the psalm is meant to pause there for a musical interlude. A harp solo, perhaps? 

Or maybe it’s just a pause. A moment to breathe. In stressful times, I find it very helpful to pause and take a deep breath or two. A focused breath is calming. 

And since the word for breath also means Spirit, in both Hebrew and Greek, I am reminded that God’s spirit is in the breath, that God is as close to me as my own breath. Everytime I breathe in, I breathe in God’s spirit.

So when the word Selah appears, I’m going to pause and take a breath, and I invite you to do the same with me.

Scripture: Psalm 52

To the leader. A Maskil of David, when Doeg the Edomite came to Saul and said to him, “David has come to the house of Ahimelech.”

Why do you boast, O mighty one,

    of mischief done against the godly?

All day long you are plotting destruction.

Your tongue is like a sharp razor,

    you worker of treachery.

You love evil more than good

    and lying more than speaking the truth! 

Selah*

You love all words that devour,

    O deceitful tongue.

But God will break you down forever;

    he will snatch and tear you from your tent;

    he will uproot you from the land of the living!

Selah*

The righteous will see and fear

    and will laugh at the evildoer, saying,

“See the one who would not take

    refuge in God

but trusted in abundant riches

    and sought refuge in wealth!”

But I am like a green olive tree

    in the house of God.

I trust in the steadfast love of God

    forever and ever.

I will thank you forever

    because of what you have done.

In the presence of the faithful

    I will proclaim your name, for it is good.

—--------

Reading this out loud, pausing to breathe when the word Selah appears, it seems as if that pause actually works to calm David’s anxiety. He gets all worked up because of his enemies… then he takes a breath… and is reassured of God’s faithfulness.

That breath brings me calm in the midst of a stressful situation. Did you feel that calm as we read the psalm, and when we paused to take a breath?

In the psalm, David eventually arrives at a place of trust and assurance, and even gratitude toward God. 

I wonder if our breath can help us do the same? I wonder if becoming aware of the Spirit within us as we breathe can help calm our fears, and bring us to a place of peace?

I remember when focusing on my breathing literally helped me endure things I didn’t think I could endure. 

I remember when I was experiencing severe pain because of issues with my gallbladder. Intense abdominal pain that sometimes had me doubled over.

The only thing I could do when the pain got that bad was take deep, controlled breaths… and that helped me endure it.

And then, two years later, I had appendicitis, and the pain from that was even worse than the pain from the gallbladder. It was so intense, that I was doubled up on the floor, and couldn’t even get up to a chair or a bed.

But I just breathed in, and out. And that helped me endure it.

I no longer have a gallbladder. Or an appendix. But there was one other time when I remember needing to focus on my breath (which I may have told you about already).

It was two and a half years ago, when I was doing lifeguard training in the freezing cold water of the Pacific Ocean. In March.

I had promised my instructor I’d try my best to complete the swim test, though I doubted my own swimming ability. Yet when our small group began wading into the gentle water of Gallagher’s Cove, and the icy water reached my toes, my knees, and then my chest, the cold grabbed onto my body, squeezing all the air out of me.

I began hyperventilating, taking very rapid, yet very shallow breaths.

I tried to call out to my instructor, who was already in deep water, and said I couldn’t do it.

She didn’t hear me. Or she pretended to not hear me, I’m not sure.

Then I asked myself: is there any way possible that I can do this? 

I knew that, first of all, if I was going to swim 500 yards in this freezing cold water, I would have to get my breath under control.

With great mental effort, I began breathing deeply and slowly. I had to concentrate so hard just to breathe! In. Then out. In. Then out.

Selah.

And, to my surprise, it worked. I could breathe! 

I started walking out further into the water. And started swimming. And completed the swim test.

By the way, one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me, ever, was when our instructor went up to the camp dining hall and brought us all back a cup of hot tea… Nothing ever felt so good!

Which brings me to a second thing that can help us in difficult, anxious times. In addition to breathing, and becoming aware of God’s spirit, we can also look for opportunities to show kindness. 

It doesn’t have to be a great, over-the-top act of kindness. Just something simple. Like a cup of hot tea. (Or, maybe on a day like this, a glass of iced tea.)

Last week at the General Assembly in Memphis, there was so much kindness. There were several thousand of us, and we were everywhere. You get into the elevator in your hotel, and even if you don’t know the person in the elevator with you, you know they are a Disciple here for the assembly, and you greet them with an extra amount of kindness…and you feel this kinship with them, even if you’ve never met them before. You feel as if you’re family.

That’s a really cool feeling!

After the assembly, I thought: what if we greet every person we meet with that same level of kindness? Every person in our community? Every person in every place? That we recognize them as family, and show them that extra level of kindness?

I think that would do a lot to help with the anxiety many people are feeling these days…

—-----------------

On the one hand, these seem like such simple, little things. Things not worthy of preaching a sermon about. 

Breathing.

Little, tiny acts of kindness.

But on the other hand, they can make such a big difference, to us, and to others.

David, in the midst of his difficult time, paused and remembered God’s presence—perhaps with the help of a little breathing exercise in the middle of his psalm, who knows?

And David also showed an unexpected act of kindness to none other than King Saul, the one who wanted to kill him.

This happened a short while later. Saul and his men were marching around, looking for David. And David and his men were marching around, trying to avoid Saul, or maybe hoping to find an opportunity to surprise Saul and overpower him… 

But at this particular moment, David and some of his men were resting in a cave. Hiding in a cave. And, unexpectedly, into the cave comes none other than Saul himself! 

Saul didn’t know they were in the cave. Saul had stepped into the cave, alone and unprotected, to, um, relieve himself. 

And David’s men, seeing that Saul had come into the cave, alone and unprotected, quietly whispered to David that he should seize this opportunity to kill King Saul.

But David instead snuck up to Saul in the darkness, and cut off just a small corner of the king’s cloak. And David did not permit his men to attack Saul.

Afterwards, Saul went out of the cave, and David followed and called after Saul, and showed Saul the piece of his cloak that he had cut off. 

Saul realized, then, that David could easily have killed him in the cave, but instead, had spared his life. 

And Saul was moved to tears, and expressed his gratitude for David’s kindness. 

And in all this, as we read this story, we see God at work. God, present in the breath that comforts and assures David; and God present in the kindness David showed that spared Saul’s life.

No matter what is going on in our world or in our lives, we can find hope in the assurance of God; In the steadfastness of God’s love.

There are many ways to respond to all that’s going on in the world today. 

Some want to rally.

Some want to fight.

Some want to give up.

I have felt like giving up, at times; but last Monday, I joined many other clergy in Memphis, and many other church members, all of us led by William Barber, and joined by our General Minister Terri Hord Owens, in front of the Federal Building in downtown Memphis, a few blocks from the convention center where the General Assembly was taking place... 

…And we gathered there to take part in a Moral Monday rally to bring attention to the thousands of preventable deaths that will take place as a result of the so-called “big beautiful bill” that is now law, a bill that eliminates or drastically cuts so many services and programs that poor people depend on just to live–things like Medicaid—while giving huge tax breaks to billionaires.

We gathered there in Memphis to let the world know that a bill that will lead to so many deaths and so much suffering is anything but big and beautiful. It is a big, ugly, deadly, and immoral bill. God calls us to choose life; and that is why we felt called to rally.

But even more than going to a rally, I feel called to prayer.

And in the midst of rallies and marches, I imagine a great prayer gathering…

In which we seek God’s guidance

God’s peace

God’s reassurance

And in which we pray for God’s peace,

And pray for an end to the suffering experienced by so many

And for an end to oppression

And for justice for those who have been wronged, who have been denied their rights, who have been told that they don’t belong here, or that they don’t belong, period.

I imagine a gathering where we pray that those who are poor and who live in poverty receive the support they need to survive and to live lives of wholeness.

What if we united in prayer thanking God and praying for peace, for justice, for understanding in our world?

What would come of that?

I don’t know that I have it in me to organize something on as grand a scale as I'm envisioning. I don’t know how to do something that big.

But big things happen in small steps. Maybe we can take a small step, by focusing our prayers on these things, asking God to intervene, for the Holy Spirit to come among us, and bring us peace, lead us to peace, in our hearts, in our lives, and in our world.

And maybe, to start, we should sing a song. A psalm. Singing, whether it has a pause in it or not, forces us to breathe differently than we normally do. And the words of the song, along with our breath, and our voices, can help us focus on the Spirit’s presence. 

At the rally in Memphis, we sang; We sang “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me ‘Round,” a song that was sung during the Memphis sanitation strike back in 1967. (Do you know that song?...”Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me round… turn me round… turn me round…Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me ‘round, I’m gonna keep on walkin, keep on talkin, walking on to freedom land…”)

Singing that song helped us breathe. It helped reassure us that God is in the struggle with us, and that God is with all those who struggle for justice, who struggle for life, who struggle so that God’s peace may come upon the earth.

So let us sing. Let us breathe. Let us pray. Let us act with kindness. And let us focus on the peace of God… the God praised by David; the God who is faithful, and whose love is steadfast.

God's New Way (Isaiah 43:19-21)

 Next week, I’ll be at Camp Walter Scott. For the past six weeks, I’ve been preaching on the scriptures that our campers will read and discuss at camp, the scriptures and topics that those who have already been to camp this summer have read and discussed, if their camps adhered to the camp curriculum. 

And this scripture from the camp curriculum, from the book of Isaiah, exemplifies what camp is all about. 

Camp is about something new. Camp is about lifting up a whole new way of living.

To some, a week at camp sounds like exactly the way of living they long for: a week of fun in the sun, making new friends, spending time in nature, experiencing worship that is meaningful and authentic, while not having to prepare your own meals or do your own dishes. Many campers think of camp as the best week of the year: heaven on earth.

To others, however, camp is scary, mostly because of how different it is. Nature can be intimidating, for those who haven’t spent much time in nature; for those who don’t realize that nature isn’t a separate thing from us, that we ourselves are, in fact, part of nature, and that we are one with the forest, with the all the creepy crawlies (which are creepy only in the sense that they creep along the ground), and everything else.

Camp is scary because, at camp, you experience a whole different daily routine than what you are probably used to. You’re surrounded by people who you may not know very well, even sharing sleeping accommodations with them. There is not much privacy: everyone knows when you go to the bathroom, how long you are in the bathroom, and what the bathroom smells like when you are done.

Here’s a little secret: everybody stinks up the bathroom now and then. It’s how God made us!

But the main reason that camp is so different is that, at camp, we are learning to live as an authentic Christian community—and an authentic Christian community is radically different from the way we live most of the time. Living an authentically Christian life, in community with others who are doing the same, is a countercultural activity. It is not what we are used to. 

And, yes, that is scary. It calls us away from our comfort zone. It’s even scary, sometimes, for those who love camp.

⬤ I think of the early Christians, after the day of Pentecost: Thousands joined the movement, and the scripture says that they met together often, to learn more about this radically new way of living, to pray, to break bread, and to enjoy fellowship with one another.

And scripture says that, in the community they formed, worldly distinctions had no place. Your wealth, your status… even privileges one might enjoy because of one’s gender, or citizenship, or ethnicity, melted away, as the community followed the way of Jesus.

And scripture also says that the community they formed was so filled with love and compassion and a sense of oneness, that all the believers held all things in common. 

It was radically different. New. Daring. And, for some, perhaps: scary.

My goal, as a director at camp, is to help campers see that the way we live at camp, in community with one another, is a glimpse into the way Christ calls us to live in the kingdom of God. It is life in the beloved community of God.

It is different, and that may scare some… but it is also so very wonderful.

This new life at camp prepares us for a new life in Christ, a new life in Christian community.

I always say that I go to camp, because it teaches me how to be a better pastor. I go to camp because it teaches me how to be a better Christian. I often reflect on the experiences I’ve had at camp, as a camper and as a counselor, and ponder what those experiences can teach me about how I’m supposed to live in this world the other 51 weeks of the year.

For example: I remember one particular day in my young adulthood when a lot of things in life were causing me stress and anxiety. I thought to myself: why does life have to be like this? Isn’t there a better way to live? Have I ever lived a life free from stress and anxiety?

And I did a little inventory of my life up to that point, trying to figure out when, in life, I felt most at peace, and least anxious.

And I realized it was when I was at camp.

And all of my personal belongings for those weeks at camp were what I could fit in a single duffle bag or suitcase, which made me realize that the happiest, most peaceful, and least stressful times in my life were when I had almost no personal belongings.

Camp really does call us to a new way of living.

However, it’s one thing to live that way while you’re at camp. It’s a whole other thing to live that way the rest of the year. It just seems too daring, too risky, too audacious… and what would the neighbors say?

It’s a lesson I haven’t yet fully implemented in my life. So, back to camp I go. I’ve still got some learning to do.

Maybe part of the issue is that, in the real world, I’m trying to implement this new way of living on my own. By myself. 

But at camp, I’m part of a community, living together, learning together, having fun together, and facing life’s challenges together.

The camp curriculum notes that all the people we’ve encountered in scripture have been a part of a community, and relied on the support of others. Saul had Ananias. Cornelius had Peter. The daughters of Zelophehad had each other, as well as Moses and the other leaders who listened to them. 

Even Jesus had John the Baptist, who prepared the way; and Jesus had his disciples, who, though they had their flaws, were committed to the same alternative vision for the world that Jesus himself was committed to. 

Yet our world today is a world of isolation. The little bit I know of other cultures past and present makes me realize that our 21st century American culture is the most individualistic culture the world has ever known.

Our cities are even designed to reinforce this isolation. Housing developments are often built with attached garages and private backyards—like the house I currently live in—so that one could live there, go to work every day and come back home, and never even see your neighbors, never even know what they look like. 

That’s why I’ve taken an interest in a group that calls itself Small Towns Blono, which is working to overcome the isolation many feel today, and help people in communities connect with one another. Their most recent project was a temporary art installation painted on sidewalks between the history museum and the Bloomington Library. The desire to connect people and communities was a major motivation for that project.

As individualistic as we are, we’re not used to living in community. Living in close community with one another—like we do at camp—is a whole new way of living.

Anytime you dare to live a new way—especially one as radically countercultural as the way of Jesus—there are risks involved.

⬤ Christ’s vision for the world is a radically inclusive and welcoming vision, which was demonstrated when those first disciples did away with the dividing lines of gender, class, and ethnicity, and when the Spirit led Peter to welcome Cornelius the Roman Centurion, and when the Spirit led Philip to welcome a man who was both a foreigner and a eunuch, and when the Spirit led Paul to focus his entire ministry on welcoming Gentiles into the movement as Gentiles, without requiring them to first become something they weren’t.

And when First Christian Church made the decision to boldly affirm its identity as an Open and Affirming Congregation, that also demonstrated Christ’s radically inclusive and welcoming vision for the world.

But anytime one dares to live a new way, there are risks. The early disciples faced many risks for living out their vision. Some outside their community just didn’t get it. Others were hostile toward it, and persecuted those early believers. 

Yet the disciples persisted in their new way of living.

God is always calling us to a new way of living, to go beyond where we are now. There is no finish line; rather, it is an ongoing journey of learning and growing and becoming who God is calling us to be.

And this goes for us as a congregation as well.

The Spirit is restless, and we who follow the Spirit are always in a state of becoming.

God has done wondrous things in the 188-year history of First Christian Church. But we are on a journey. God is always leading us, just as God led the Israelites through the Promised Land. 

It’s good to consider how far we’ve come, and how God has brought us to where we are. But if we say, “this is it; we’re done!” God is going to go on without us, and we’ll be left behind.

In conversations I’ve had with many of you over the past year and a half, I get the sense that you are feeling the Spirit calling us, leading us… You sense that God is trying to do a new thing among us, and with us… and some of you are wondering if we as a congregation will be bold enough, daring enough, to take the risk and follow the Spirit to wherever the Spirit is leading us next.

This new life that the Spirit is calling us to has implications for our style of worship, how we reach out to our community, how we use our building and/or make our building available to the community. It has implications for everything related to our ministry.

And if it means we need to change some things, well, there’s risk in that. There’s risk, just like there was risk in becoming an Open and Affirming congregation. There’s risk, just like when Ananias decided to reach out to Saul, or when the daughters of Zelophehad decided to speak up and demand their rights. 

But there is also risk in doing nothing. There is risk in not reaching out, there is risk in not speaking up, and there is risk in not making changes as we seek to go where God is leading us.

I don’t have the answers to all these uncertainties. But I am going to camp; God may have some new lessons for me there.

And I know that wherever our journey leads, we have each other. None of us—not even I, your pastor—can do this alone.

Our church needs you. Your voice. Your prayers. Your commitment to the ministry we share. 

That’s another thing I hope to teach my campers next week: that the church needs them. The church needs them just as the church needs each one of you.

I am so grateful to be on this journey with you. Thank you for praying for me; your prayers help me become the best pastor I can be, and to continue growing as a pastor, since I am always in a state of becoming;

Thank you for praying for our church, praying for God to continue guiding us to becoming the best church we can be—and that we might continue growing and journeying with God and with one another.

May we be willing to follow God’s Spirit wherever the Spirit leads us. May we be willing to take the risks that following God requires. And may we continue to come together, supporting one another with the love and encouragement that come from Christ.