i take flight

on borrowed time

A sermon on the conclusion to Philippians:

Seeing as my second month of sabbatical is about to begin, let’s play a little game! 

One of the express intents of sabbatical is to provide rest. And while I could provide of list of the things that tire me out, I think we would all agree that what’s really tiresome about a vocation are its worries.

So, let me ask you, what do you think I worry about? What do you think keeps me awake at night? Or, since you all know me, when have you actually seen me worrisome?

Go ahead! Really think about it. The rest of the sermon will work better if you engage. What do you think I worry about?

I came up with this idea for this game while working on the first draft of the sermon. Initially, I made a list of things I worry about. However, the prospect of reading that aloud seemed so dull and so trying that I couldn’t countenance the thought of subjecting you all to that.

Nevertheless, now that I’ve asked, it only seems proper to give you all a chance to share. So, does anyone want to venture a guess as to what I worry about???

Obviously, there’s a risk here. But I hope it goes without saying that the risk is all mine. There’s really no way you can guess wrong. Worry is indiscriminate like that. No, the only real risk is that one of you might nail me to the wall with your guess. 

But, seeing as I try to do that to you each week in the sermon, it’s only fair to give you a chance to return the favor. So, does anyone want to guess what I worry about? Oh! And Amanda can’t play, either! 

Alright, no more dallying. Does anyone want to venture a theory as to what I worry about?

…You know what, though? As wild as that list is, mine is much worse! And I bet yours is, too. Isn’t it?

We’re worriers. Aren’t we? In fact, we’re such nervous nellies that it wouldn’t be unreasonable to suspect that we’re inveterate worriers. What I mean is, for all intents and purposes, it appears as though we’re natural-born worrywarts. Doesn’t it?

Saint Paul, however, couldn’t disagree more! Why, not only does the thirteenth apostle maintain that fretting isn’t a hereditary condition, but it’s also something he tells us to cut out altogether! “Do not worry about anything,” Saint Paul commands.

But, and there’s always a but, but it’s just not that easy. Sure, we may desire to heed Paul’s words. None of us want to worry! But it’s not so simple as all that. Is it?

You can’t just turn off the spigot when fear begins to flood the four walls of your skull-sized kingdom. Can you? No, you can’t. When worry gets the better of you, you’re nearly helpless to its deluge.

And I know from my own bitter experience, too. In fact, my gut reaction to Saint Paul’s "Do not worry about anything” is to be incredulous!

It’s easy to feel as if Paul’s talking about some unrealistic idealization when he tells us not to worry about anything. To our ears, the thirteenth apostle’s telling us not to worry about anything sounds about as good as it does impossible. Doesn’t it?

…That, however, cannot be the case! First of all, Saint Paul clearly means what he says. And secondly, the reason Paul’s so convinced is that he seems to have experienced it for himself! Isn’t that what the triumphant conclusion to today’s passage is all about? 

“I have learned to be content with whatever I have,” Saint Paul says. He knows what it is to have little. AND he knows what it is to have plenty, too. In any and all circumstances, Paul has learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. In a word, the apostle Paul can do all things through HIM who strengthens him. 

And the him in that sentence is obviously Christ Jesus, the Lord. When Paul speaks of the peace of God that passes all understanding, he’s not whistling in the dark! No, far from it, in fact. Truthfully, Paul’s just describing a phenomenon he’s experienced more than a time or two!

So, skepticism aside, we’ve got to take Saint Paul’s words at face value. And anyway, why not? What have you got to lose? Are you worried about having fewer sleepless nights and more carefree days? 

I didn’t think so.

…The good news here is that Paul’s actually quite straightforward on the matter! Yes, his command not to worry is part of a larger sentence. But it’s not one of those infamous sentences of his that carries on for nearly an entire paragraph.

No, Paul simply begins with an imperative, do not worry about anything. And then, he goes on to say what to do instead. RATHER than worrying, Paul tells us to, in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let our requests be made known to God.

Paul’s secret is really no secret at all! Why, it’s one of the first things your parents, grandparents, Sunday school teachers, and confirmation instructors all teach you! Instead of worrying, Paul says to pray.

What’s more, he even says how to pray, too! “In everything, by prayer and supplication—with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

Now, although these words practically speak for themselves, let’s take them beat by beat. First of all, Paul says, “in everything.” Everything. In other words, don’t hold anything back with God.

There’s a lot in that little word, everything. Isn’t there? Because I don’t know about you, but those things I really worry about tend to be some of the hardest ones to take to God in prayer. 

And even if I do bring whatever it is I’m anxious about to God, I feel this temptation to pray about it the right way. It’s as if I’m afraid God is touchy. It’s as if I think that if I were to tell God how hard a time I’m having, God will respond like a scorned lover and ask why I’m not more grateful for everything else God has done.

More than likely, though, I’m probably just afraid I’ll ask God for something God can’t do.

That, by the way, is something Paul had experience with himself. In Second Corinthians, Paul describes this malady he suffered from. He called it a “thorn in the flesh.” And Paul confesses that he asked God three times to remove it, too! Instead of answering that prayer, though, God just told Saint Paul that thy grace would have to be sufficient.

Here’s the thing, though, that non-response sort of response didn’t destroy Paul’s faith! On the contrary, it bolstered it. And that’s something I know you all have experience with, too. Don’t you?

None of us walk such a cleared path that we don’t have an unanswered prayer, or hundreds, in our past. Do we? And despite our fears, it didn’t ruin our faith when all God said in reply was that grace would have to do—that we wouldn’t be getting our way this go-‘round. 

Yes, it hurt like the dickens to get that kind of a non-answer answer. And yes, we still wish things could have turned out differently. BUT, and this is important, but that painful experience didn't sink our faith. Did it?

…Now, before we go on, I want to say; I know some of you are in the thick of it right now. Some of you are in the throes of hearing that non-answer answer.  Aren’t you? And you’re just barely hanging on, too. In fact, all you can hear is the “non” part of that non-answer answer right now. 

And if that’s you, I just want you to know that you’re closer to God than you know. In fact, you’ve probably never been nearer to God than you are now. I know it feels like God couldn’t be further away. But, and remember this, God is a far-sighted God. Meaning the further you feel from God, the better God sees you.

Truthfully, the non-answer answer is tough. That said, it’s also one of God’s most powerful ways of speaking to us. And what’s more, it’s also your claim to Christ’s respite that’s offered to none but the weary and burdened. 

…Alright, then. So, first of all, when it comes to prayer, take everything to God. And everything means everything. It’s like how Luther described prayer as holding God’s feet to the fire of God’s promises. 

Just get started. Take whatever it is that’s got you worried to God. And take all of it to God. And take it to God as it actually is, too. Don’t try and tidy it up first. God knows better, anyway.

Then, and this is really the only other thing Paul has to say about prayer, Paul adds, “with thanksgiving.” 

It seems to me there are primarily two ways to take this addendum. First of all, you can hear Paul telling you not to forget the things for which you’re grateful even as you pour out your worries to God. And if that’s what Paul means, it’s plainly good advice. 

We all know what wonders gratitude can do. Don’t we? What’s more, I know I’ve witnessed many of YOU cling to gratitude as everything else went down the drain. Haven’t I? And it has served you well, too. Didn’t it?

Now that’s not to say thankfulness made the ordeal pleasant. And it’s not even to say gratitude made the problem more bearable, either. No, it’s just to say thanksgiving was something concrete you could step out on while everything else was shifting under your feet. Wasn’t it?

…But the other way to take Saint Paul’s “with gratitude” is to take it as if Paul’s telling you to be thankful for whatever it is that’s driven you to pray—to be thankful for your trials and tribulations. And that’s difficult, and it can even sound a bit cruel. However, I do think there’s something to it. 

First of all, it’s what Paul himself does in that passage when he talks about his torn in the flesh. In response to the non-answer answer Paul gets, he says, “Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, THEN I am strong.”

And secondly, as we all know, loss is just love by another name. Isn’t it? Those things that tear us up are the price we pay for loving. And yes, the price may be high. But it’s nothing compared to all that we received in turn. Isn’t it?

Indeed, there’s more than a little truth in giving thanks for our trials. But you know what else? It’s also something I’ve witnessed many of you do, too! 

I can’t tell how many times I’ve sat across from one of you as you wiped tears away from your eyes, smiled ever so slightly, and then spoke words of gratitude and love. And let me tell you, in those moments, the room was so thick with holiness that you practically had to brush it away!

…And there you have it! Do not worry about anything, BUT in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. In prayer, you’ve got the ultimate antidote to worry. In prayer, you can take everything to God. And in prayer, there’s even a way to fuse gratitude into your grief, too. 

Simple. Right? 

Wrong! Of course, it’s not that simple! 

Yes, the logic may be simple. And yes, the steps might even be simple, too. But that’s hardly the hard part! No, what’s really challenging about Paul’s straightforward guidance on prayer is that none of it comes easily for us.

For the record, I don’t mean it’s just a matter of execution, either. This isn’t something you can train yourself in. Yes, prayer IS self-reinforcing. Praying today will help you pray tomorrow. But that’s not what I mean.

No, what I’m referring to is the curious fact that, to all appearances, we seem to be our own worst enemy when it comes to prayer. Don’t we? I’m talking about this aversion we have to prayer. 

And why is that? Why is it that in the moment we would be best served by stopping and praying; it’s practically the hardest thing for us to do—even though it’s a relatively easy action? Why is that?
It’s a rhetorical question, though. Of course. And you already know that. What’s more, on some level, you already know the answer to our question, too. Don’t you?

Listen, I don’t want to waste any time on such an obvious question. So let’s cut to the chase; it’s hard to pray when we’re worried because, in a way, worry precludes prayer. At least, at first, it does. 

At first, worry tempts us to solve whatever problem we’re facing ourselves. And it’s not like we try once and then turn to God. No, I mean, we stubbornly insist upon solving all our problems ourselves. Don’t we?

…This is what it means to have two yous in you. There’s the old you, and there’s the new you in you. And the old you is a creature that insists on living by its own steam. 

On the other hand, the new you couldn’t be more different. The new you is a creature God raises up daily from the ash heap of the old yous failed efforts. What’s more, this new you is a creature that lives by faith, NOT its own self-determination.

The problem, however, is that the two yous in you don’t get along. In fact, they fight. Furthermore, even though the old you in you has no future, it doesn’t just give up. In fact, the old you trashes all the more desperately the clearer it senses its own demise. 

And you, you are caught in this struggle. And if that wasn’t enough, you can’t foster a peace between these two parties. And neither can you declare one side a victor. In fact, you can’t even ally yourself with one party or the other. 

No, all you can do is suffer their constant battling. But here’s the thing, God doesn’t. God has willed a winner—the new you, obviously. 

What’s more, God puts God’s thumb on the scale. And yes, one of the ways God does this is by allowing life to drive you to prayer. This is what C.S. Lewis meant when he said pain is God’s megaphone.

We rarely go to God unbidden. Don’t we? No, more often than not, we must be driven to prayer. And that’s the right word. Isn’t it? Driven.

…At this point, though, we’re deep in the existential weeds. Aren’t we? And we’re liable to get lost, too. So suffice it to say, at first, being driven to prayer is awful. This goes without saying.

But, when the old you run out of steam, that bitter experience will make way for the peace that passes all understanding. When the old you has nothing left to go on anymore, you will actually, truly, really have nothing left to worry about anymore! Yes, this will be because the old you have been dealt a death blow. But, when that happens, the new you will have free reign!

Yes, this doesn’t last long. The old you never stays quiet. But in those blessed moments, the new you will know the nearness of the Lord in a newfound way. In fact, you will even learn that Christ is nearer to you than all your fears. 

This is what Paul means when he says the peace of God passes all understanding. In those times, it doesn’t seem like you should feel peaceful. Does it? In fact, the old you will even want to feel guilty for feeling this way. But that’s just all the more evidence it’s God who is at work in you!

And when that happens, because it will, you won’t need anyone to convince you to pray. No, prayers will just burst forth from your lips. And at that, as simple as that, all of Paul’s words will come to pass for you, too!

You will no longer worry about anything. And you won’t worry about anything because you’ll have nothing left to worry about! No, you won’t even live anymore. Instead, it will be Christ who lives in you! And in those moments, Christ will gladly bear all your burdens! And you won’t try to anymore, either!

…Yes, it’s an unpleasant way to get there. But it’s one of the best things on this side of heaven! In fact, it’ll have you saying, with Saint Paul himself, that you’ve learned the secret of being content in all circumstances—that mystery handed on down through the ages, the secret of Christ’s nearness in any and all circumstances.

Best of all, though, it’s all YOURS! And it’s all yours right now, too!

As such, let’s do just that! Let’s lift our voices in thanks and pray to God in praise. As the saints used to say, the one who sings prays TWICE! 

We Are Called, ELW 720