This is Our Story

Creation Care Series 3
sermon by Torin Eikler
Psalm 1, 23, 42:1-5     Ephesians 3:14-19

Last week our series took us to looking at many images of God and how they can help us relate to the infinite Creator we worship.  This week builds on that by asking to look at what we are like.  But, we are not infinite … quite the opposite.  So metaphors are a little less appropriate.  That doesn’t mean that we cannot learn and grow from comparing ourselves to other things, but it does mean that we need to use similes (you know … those statements with “like” and “as”). to tell those stories.  And stories are exactly what we are telling ourselves when we answer the question of what we are like.

It’s interesting that Linda started off our series reminding us that stories are nothing if they are rooted in a place and time and a life context.  It’s so true, isn’t it?  We hear stories all the time, and they just pass us by.  Then something changes in our lives … maybe a piece of missing information falls into place, and the stories we just ignored come back to us with a power and poignancy that can take our breath away.  Or we listen to one person tell a story and we hear their struggle and feel their pain or their indignation or their pride.  Then we hear another side of the experience from someone else, and our empathy for their experience begs the questions, “How could this be the same story?  Who should I believe?  What should I believe?”

 

In the middle of that last question is where we, as a people, find our definition … at least according to Joseph Campbell.  In his book, “The Power of Myth,” he examines how myths – the stories we tell ourselves about how the world works and our place in it – how they have shaped our societies over the millennia.  Now I have to admit that I have not read the book.  I did watch a series of videoed interviews Bill Moyers did with Campbell when I was in high school, and they made a big impression on me – probably more than reading the book would have.  They were a story of sorts after all.

What I learned is nothing new to those of you who have studied sociology or psychology or have worked in retail business or have thought about how the books, TV shows, movies, or radio shows influence your lives.  Stories shape our view of the world.  They influence the decisions that we make, the desires we have, and the way we choose to live together.  Stories have the power to change the world.

Like I said … nothing new.  Scary perhaps … and comforting, but nothing new.  I knew that even before I watched those videos in English … even if I didn’t realize that I knew it.  What I didn’t know … or perhaps didn’t realize that I know, is that stories shape our identity … our very being.  I don’t mean the stories we read or hear now.  Again … that old news.  I mean the stories that we tell ourselves….

 

A few weeks ago, I happened into an interview on the radio.  I can’t remember who was speaking, and I haven’t been able to locate that information.  But I do remember the subject of the conversation.  It was about the stories that we tell ourselves – our memories - and how they can affect who we are.

It has been known for a long time that our memories can affect our mood and vice versa.  Think about it….  When you remember a particularly sad or disappointing experience in your life, you find yourself feeling upset or less confident in yourself or the world.  And, when you are feeling down or embarrassed, you tend to remember other times when you felt the same way.  The two are linked, and if we get too caught up in the back and forth, it is powerful enough that it can even lead us into a downward spiral that ends in depression or illness.

What this guest had to add to the discussion was a newer understanding that memories can even affect our core self-identity.  The stories that we tell ourselves, he said, are what give our lives context and inform our own understandings of our selves.  If we focus on memories of failure, then we see ourselves more and more as failures.  If we focus on times when we were angry or even violent, then we see ourselves more and more as angry, violent people.  If we focus on our experiences as victims, then we become victims.  But if we spend more time remembering our successes and our happy times, then we become stronger, more successful, more contented people.

 

That all sounds a bit “fluffy” to me at first.  It reminds me of a recurring Saturday Night Live sketch from around 1990 where a “counselor” (we’ll be kind and call him that) hosted a television segment.  His name was Stewart Smalley, and he was a caricature of all the new-age-y self-help hosts that were on TV at the time.  Stewart began each segment by looking at himself in the mirror and saying, “Your good enough.  Your smart enough.  And, doggon-it, people like you.”

If you have seen the sketch, you know that poor Stewart never did well.  He always ended up talking his way into a corner or putting his foot in his mouth in spectacular ways.  Usually he was almost in tears by the end of his segment, but he always turned back to the mirror when his time was up and repeated his catch phrase, “Your good enough.  Your smart enough.  And, doggon-it, people like you.”

The sketch was … funny … but not in the roll-around-on-the-floor-laughing kind of way.  It was more along the lines of I’m-laughing-because-I’m-so-relieved-that-I’m-not-him funny.  (Although, some of the things he ended up saying and doing were funny in and of themselves.) 

And after watching several of the scenes over time, I came away with a feeling of pity for Stewart.  He tried so hard, and he only got worse.

The guest on that radio interview might say that Stewart’s central problem was that he was focused on the memories of all of his past failures.  That’s probably true (or it would be if he had been a real person).  No matter what it was he was saying into the mirror, there was no denying that he began each segment afraid of what was coming.  And by the end of each show, he had succeeded in becoming exactly what his memories told him he was … a failure.

 

Like I said … a bit “fluffy.”  The more I have thought about it, though, the more I think there is truth to the idea that our memories do influence us.  They tell us the story of our lives and so they shape how we think, what we do, and who we understand ourselves to be.  And the more deeply we believe those stories the more power they have over us.  I believe that because I have experienced it myself.

 

Several weeks ago, I told you all about the chant that I learned from Matt Guynn and how I sing it to Patrick when I’m trying to help him fall asleep.  As all chants, it is repetitive and simple, and so in the course of one 20-minute bedtime, I may sing the same phrases dozens of times.  One of my favorites has been “I am a loving may.  I am a patient man.” because, though I often fail to show patience or be openly and extravagantly loving in my behavior, that is what I want to be for my children.

After that sermon, I began to sing the chant to myself more often during the day, and I have found that I have been showing more patience and expressing my love more often.  Carrie has even commented on it.  It may just be that I am reminding myself more often, and so I am more aware of my behavior.  But, the truth is that I am feeling impatience, frustration, and anger less often than I had been, and I think of myself (like I used to) as a patient person.  The story that I have been telling myself in that song has changed how I act and how I think of myself.  And having Carrie confirm that – having her tell me the story of how I am a patient person has certainly helped.

 

The Psalms for today tell us stories about who we are, too.  We are like strongly-rooted trees standing by the water.  We are like trusting sheep following our loving shepherd.  We are like deer longing to quench our thirst for God.  Of course we are.  We have heard that enough times throughout the years that we have attended church.  We know that we are “like” all of those things in some ways and not like them in others.  Similes are easy that way – easy to accept and easy to dismiss.

The scripture from Ephesians, though, is less ambiguous.  It’s a prayer written by a follower of Paul to the believers in Ephesus, and it asks that the people be rooted and grounded in love.  It asks that they be strengthened in their faith and granted to the power to comprehend the immensity of Christ’s love so that they would be filled with the fullness of God. 

It is just a prayer, of course, not a statement of fact, but it is not a comparison either.  It states an image of the believers as a fact.  No “like” or “as” … “be.”  Be deeply rooted in love (like the trees by the water.)  Be strong in faith (like sheep who trust their shepherd completely.)  Be filled with understanding and desire for Christ’s great love (like a deer who longs for water).

 

Imagine if those believers took that prayer seriously.  Imagine if they changed their story … if they stopped telling themselves that they were new didn’t really understand everything yet, that they were tempted to turn away from The Way of Christ in favor of society’s path, that they were a divided community of believers who shouted their disagreement with one another with their voices and their actions.

What if they told themselves that they were strong, faithful disciples whose love for God and for each other would overcome all the challenges they faced and keep them whole?

 

That’s the story that I want to tell myself … to tell us.  We are a beloved people who have been given what we seek – living spiritual water to meet all the needs of our souls.  We are a strong and faithful people who love one another and the world just as we love God … with all our heart, soul, and mind.  We are followers of Christ who are growing together – growing more and more deeply rooted in love as we grow more and more fully into the story that God tells us about who we can be … who we are.

 

That’s my story.  I pray that it is ours….