Trust in God's Future, in Spite of the Evidence

Sermon preached by the Reverend John E. Kitagawa at the Celebration of the Holy Eucharist on Sunday, 28 February 2010 (Lent II), at St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, Arizona

TRUST IN GOD’S FUTURE, IN SPITE OF THE EVIDENCE

Genesis 15: 1-12; Philippians 3: 17 – 4: 1; Luke 13: 31-35

Today’s Hebrew Scripture reading describes a pivotal event in the Abraham story. Abram, as he is still called in this part of Genesis, and God enter into a covenantal relationship. Abram has agreed to leave his homeland with only God’s promise that God would make him a great nation (Genesis 12: 1-3). Abram and Sarai, as she is still called in this part of Genesis, are getting old and have no children. Still, God promises their descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the sky. This pilgrimage of faith turns on Abram and Sarai’s willingness to believe in the face of impossibility, and their complete trust in God’s future, in spite of current circumstances.

The power of trusting in God’s future, in spite of current evidence, runs through today’s Scriptures. In the Gospel, some Pharisees warn Jesus of Herod’s plot to assassinate him. Most of us, upon hearing such news, would shut up, flee and hide. Instead, being clear about his identity and vocation in ministry, and trusting in God’s future, Jesus sends a message to that “fox” (Luke 13: 32). Essentially, the message was that he understood Herod had the power to kill him, but that Herod ultimately had no power to make Jesus change who he was, or alter his mission and ministry. So, Jesus continues to carry out his ministry, fully knowing this path would lead to certain death in Jerusalem. This is the model, the mindset and behavior that Paul sought to emulate, and calls Christ’s Philippian followers and us to imitate.

In today’s Epistle reading, Paul contrasts “the enemies of the cross of Christ” (Philippians 3: 18) and the citizens of heaven (Philippians 3: 20). Then, towards the end of the passage, we hear this:

… our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself (Philippians 3: 20-21)

I want you to focus on Christ’s power to transform our lives from self-centeredness and from

minds set on “earthly things” (Philippians 3: 19) into a new life of faithful living. I begin by recalling some life-changing encounters and experiences that shaped my faith and ministry.

Thirty-five years ago [I feel so old when I say that!], when I was a seminary student, I was privileged to be a Delegate of the Episcopal Church to an Assembly of Christians from all over the world[1]. It was an awesome experience. I remember the first worship service when we prayed the Lord’s Prayer in our own languages. I heard all kinds of languages, many I could not recognize or distinguish. The overriding feeling was a sense of awe and amazement that all of us had in common a relationship with the One who transforms all of life.

All Assembly participants were assigned to Bible Study groups. In my group were clergy and lay people from all over the world. Language was a problem. Many did not speak English, and many did not speak Spanish or German or French. Still, we managed. As we studied the Scriptures, and as we shared our stories, we became friends. One day, I asked a female pastor, Hildegard, and a lay person from the then Communist East Germany, whether they suffered any prejudice or persecution because of their faith. “Oh, yes,” they said without ridiculing my naiveté. Then, they told me about being a Christian in that context. It was testimony to the power of trusting God’s future in spite of available evidence.

They told me the decision to baptize their child was one of the most difficult choices Christian parents had to make. Why? If the authorities learned that a child was baptized, that child was basically condemned to second-class citizenship. At that time, a Christian child was unlikely to advance to government supported university studies, and would rarely rise to significant management jobs. The State regarded them with suspicion and contempt. I was horrified by what I heard. I could not accept that a child could be “ruined for life” just because s/he was baptized. Without thinking, I asked why Baptisms could not be done in secret. My friends smiled patiently again, and gently shared this kind of message and witness:

John, it is a very difficult decision, but our lives as Christians are not so bad. It is better to have the Gospel than to possess material wealth. It is better to have faith than to have political influence. Baptism is supposed to be a public declaration of faith. Baptism is meaningful as a public witness to the decision to follow Jesus Christ, and to be in a covenantal relationship with God, wherever that path may lead, and whatever the costs may be along the way.

Here is a second witness to the power of trusting in God’s future in spite of the evidence at the moment. A member of the Bible Study group was a Bolivian bishop named Mortimer. His ministry was heavily involved with poor and disenfranchised slum dwellers. He became their champion and advocate. The government accused him of being subversive and imprisoned him. The only book he was permitted was a Bible. So, he began to lead Bible studies and to carry on his ministry in prison. I remember him telling our study group that he never felt more free than he did during his imprisonment and ministry there.

Here is a third witness to the power of trusting God’s future, in spite of contemporary evidence to the contrary. I have a friend named Carlos. He is a Methodist pastor from Argentina. Many of you will remember that a particularly nasty military junta ruled the Argentines for a time. Human rights violations were epidemic; people disappeared on a regular basis. My friend Carlos, taking his faith seriously, decided to stand up and run for political office on a platform of human rights. For this, he was imprisoned. For months, his family had no idea what had happened to him. Thanks to the tenacious efforts of his Bishop, he was located and eventually freed. Today, Carlos still carries scars from the beatings he received at the hands of his captors.

Having talked about three shining examples of faithful people, I want to go back to Paul’s “enemies of the cross of Christ” language. This language conjures up images of really nasty and really bad people. Adolf Hitler, Pol Pot and Saddam Hussein come to mind. It would be convenient and expedient to allow these images to be the personifications of “enemies of the cross of Christ.” Not so fast. Listen to a contemporary writer’s portrayal of the “enemies of the cross of Christ”:

Rather than embracing the gift we received at baptism we rebel against that gift, the cross that is indelibly marked on our foreheads. We turn to those things that make us feel good and that make us feel like we are in control. We are drawn toward that which centers around us as individuals and which serves our needs. We are tempted by the way that causes us the least amount of suffering and puts our lives ahead of the lives of our neighbors[2].

We never think of ourselves as Adolf Hitlers, Pol Pots or Saddam Husseins. This description, however, probably makes us at least a little uncomfortable. And, I imagine the source of our discomfort is the little bit of truth this description causes us to admit.

The Lenten Exhortation in the Prayer Book reminds “of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith”[3]. I repeat what I said on Ash Wednesday. Lent is not about beating our breasts, hair shirts and groveling before God. Lent is a season when we can, within the safe embrace of God’s love, become vulnerable enough to look at the less admirable elements of our character. Lent is a season for intentional consideration of how we may be wandering off the path, and to seek the healing power of God’s love. Returning to the writer I referenced a moment ago,

[The gift we received at Baptism] not only means a life of self-sacrifice, suffering and daily dying to our sins, it also means daily rising to new life in Christ. … Marked with the sign of the cross, we are promised the victory of the resurrection, transformation from lives of self-indulgence to new life in Christ, and a sure and certain hope that we will be conformed to Christ in the age to come. … We are reminded of the new life we share in Christ, forgiven and free to live as citizens of heaven[4].

AMEN.