Today is Sunday, May 10. The fifth Sunday of Easter, as well as Mother’s Day… and I do hope you are able to have a happy Mother’s Day, and that you are able to wish the mothers in your life a happy mother’s day.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two months since we were able to worship together, in person… two months since we were able to do much of anything… and some days are better than others… right? For me, some days I feel like things are going really well. I’m exercising, I’m writing sermons, I’m cooking good meals, I’m spending time with family…
And other days I feel the weight of it all resting on my shoulders, and I feel the emptiness of being confined at home and not able to gather with you and with others that I love, and the overwhelming sadness at the awareness of just our broken and fragmented our world is.
And day to day, it all kinda goes back and forth like this. Up and down. Highs and lows. Good days and bad days.
I chose two readings from the lectionary today. They kind of balance each other out. One speaks to the spiritual highs in life - the good days - and the other speaks to the spiritual lows - the days of struggle. Either one by itself seems incomplete, but taken together, they present a timely word for us today, for we who are caught between the good days and the bad days...
The first reading is from the end of the seventh chapter of Acts. A follower of the way named Stephen had just finished preaching to the authorities about life in the kingdom of God. But the authorities felt threatened by the truth Stephen spoke...
[7:55-60]
Stephen, enabled by the Holy Spirit, stared into heaven and saw God’s majesty and Jesus standing at God’s right side. He exclaimed, “Look! I can see heaven on display and the Human One standing at God’s right side!”
At this, they shrieked and covered their ears. Together, they charged at him, threw him out of the city, and began to stone him. The witnesses placed their coats in the care of a young man named Saul. As they battered him with stones, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, accept my life!” Falling to his knees, he shouted, “Lord, don’t hold this sin against them!” Then he died.
I remember hearing this Bible story when I was a young child in Sunday school. And I was “wow-ed” by the faith of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. I was awed by his faith. I was impressed.
But, to be honest, I also kinda hated Stephen.
Because I didn’t think I would ever achieve that level; I didn’t think my faith would ever be that strong. I mean, he didn’t even flinch. Can you picture that? The stones are coming at him - big stones, heavy stones, stones that hurt and kill - and Stephen was smiling!
At least, that’s how I imagined it.
And then, just before he died - with blood running down his face, down his body - he exclaims, “Jesus, I’m coming!” and offers one final prayer for his attackers, a prayer of forgiveness.
And I knew - my own faith, my own life, would never be able to compare to that.
Now, Stephen WAS a great hero of faith, and a great hero of the early church.
But I can’t exactly preach a sermon in which I tell you to be like Stephen, when I don’t even think I can be like Stephen.
Because for me, some days are good… but some days… not so much.
We all have good days and bad days. And that includes good days and bad days when it comes to faith. We have days of doubt, days of selfishness, days when we just aren’t ready to forgive those who try to hurt us.
This has been especially true during this time of COVID-19.
Some days, I wake up and smile, and I’m productive, and I’m hopeful, and I’m excited to see how God is working in our lives in a time such as this.
Other days, I wake up, and I don’t feel like doing anything, and I’m sad, and I feel sorry for myself, and sorry for all of us, wishing we could meet together, wishing this was all over, and - most of all - wishing I could be a better encourager, a more hopeful voice in this difficult time.
It makes me wonder if the book of Acts is only telling us part of the story. Because Stephen must have had bad
days, too. Right? He was human. He had to have.
The Bible just doesn’t talk about them.
Well, interestingly, the lectionary for today includes not only the story of Stephen, but also Psalm 31. Well, part of Psalm 31. I’m going to include some parts of the psalm that the lectionary skips... And what makes it so interesting is that Psalm 31 describes very clearly what a life of faith is like on those bad days.
In Psalm 31, the psalmist says:
Have mercy on me, Lord, because I’m depressed. My vision fails because of my grief, as do my spirit and my body. My life is consumed with sadness; my years are consumed with groaning. Strength fails me because of my suffering; my bones dry up. I’m a joke to all my enemies, still worse to my neighbors. I scare my friends, and whoever sees me in the street runs away! I am forgotten, like I’m dead, completely out of mind; I am like a piece of pottery, destroyed. Yes, I’ve heard all the gossiping, terror all around; so many gang up together against me, they plan to take my life!
It’s all a little different from the faith of Stephen, isn’t it? The psalmist is in a low, dark space. However, even in this dark space, the psalmist is able to place trust in God. Further on in Psalm 31, the psalmist says:
I trust you, Lord! I affirm, “You are my God.” My future is in your hands. Don’t hand me over to my enemies, to all who are out to get me! Shine your face on your servant; save me by your faithful love! Lord, don’t let me be put to shame because I have cried out to you. Let the wicked be put to shame; let them be silenced in death’s domain! Let their lying lips be shut up whenever they speak arrogantly against the righteous with pride and contempt!
So, unlike Stephen, the psalmist seems to be having a hard time forgiving his enemies. Perhaps this is a glimpse into the psalmist’s own faith struggle…
At the end of the psalm, the psalmist writes:
All you who wait for the Lord, be strong and let your heart take courage.
...and it seems to me that the psalmist is talking to himself, first and foremost. He’s telling himself to be strong, to let his heart take courage. He’s telling himself that, because it’s what he really needs to hear…
...Because faith can be difficult. Life can be difficult. And sometimes, we struggle.
Faith is a more complex thing than we like to admit. That’s true, right? Faith is complex. Human living is complex.
I know that some preachers try to keep faith simple. And some church goers like things kept simple. They don't want to deal with complexity.
But not dealing with complexity is disingenuous. It leaves too much out.
Faith is rarely easy. Faith takes work. Faith involves deep wrestling with thoughts and emotions and ideas…
We want to emphasize the highlights. We want to shine a light on all that is good, and keep all that is less than perfect in the shadows, hoping that it will eventually waste away due to lack of sunlight. We want to have the faith of Stephen. We don't want to acknowledge the dark despair & deep depression that the psalms often portray.
Simplified teachings work in a children’s Sunday School class. But a more mature faith needs to move beyond this. And as we mature, we soon learn that not acknowledging the struggle, the challenge, is not helpful; not acknowledging that there will be both good days and bad days is not helpful.
What is helpful is being honest with ourselves and honest with God - honest, as the psalmist is honest…. to present ourselves before God not as we wish we were, but as we truly are. To say: "This is me, God. This is who I am. This is what's going on inside me… I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not. I'm worn out from trying to model a perfect faith or a perfect life."
And I believe that if you can do this, God will care for you...God will hold you in a silent, non-judging embrace, and just let you be. And you'll know that you don't have to be anything other than what you are, who you are.
And God will take all the broken pieces of you and put you back together. And you will be whole once again.
Instead of trying so hard to be someone you are not, God will help you be the best version of YOU that you can be.
To put this all another way: we need to be honest about our shortcomings and even about our sin. Only then can God’s grace abound. And God’s grace is sufficient to carry us through the bad days.
Ever since the pandemic started, I’ve been carefully rationing the time I spend paying attention to the news. For my own mental health, I’ve been limiting how much news I take in.
So this week, when the injustice committed against Ahmaud Arbery started gaining attention, I didn’t want to hear it. When hope is hard enough to hold on to, and when the good days seem hard to come by, I didn’t want to be reminded of the world’s sin and brokenness. I wanted to keep it all at arms’ length.
But I also started reading a book this week titled Call It Grace by Serene Jones - president of Union Theological Seminary, and daughter of my seminary professor Joe Jones. And the way she writes about sin and racism and grace made it impossible for me to ignore Ahmaud Arbery.
Reflecting on her own experiences, Jones writes: “I hadn’t chosen to inherit the embodied legacy of white supremacy, but I was responsible for the continued presence of white supremacy in the world. Years later, [John] Calvin gave me the words to understand this awful reality. Caught in sin we didn’t choose, we are nonetheless responsible for it.”
I can choose to not deal with the sin and brokenness of the world. I can choose to not deal with the sin and brokenness of my own life. I can ignore all the bad, in the hopes that it will just fade away… and my days will be good.
But this kind of self-deception is not what makes a day good. What makes a day good is acknowledging the truth, shining a light on it, and working to make things whole. That’s what makes a day - or a life - good.
I can’t ever be like Stephen, unless I acknowledge that some days, I’m more like the psalmist. I can’t ever grow in faith, unless I admit that sometimes my faith feels too small. And I can’t ever fully appreciate the fullness of God’s amazing grace, unless I confront my sin and the sin of the world in which I live.
Only then can God’s grace abound
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