Happy Hearts

sermon by Torin Eikler
Matthew 5:21-37        Deuteronomy 30:15-20

I have been thinking a lot about happiness lately.  I’m talking about deep happiness.  Not small moments of contentment or laughter, but the profound sense of joy and fulfillment that the Psalmist are always talking about when they say, “happy are those who … walk in the law of the Lord … who seek him with their whole heart.”  Those little moments are – I think of them as echoes – but I have been thinking about how they are different, and I have been wondering about it … wondering and reaching for the deeper joy.

I don’t always do that, sadly.  Usually, I think, I just move through my days taking care of business – getting things done and making sure my children get things done.  I certainly experience contentment and laughter … often, but … in the past couple of weeks, many of the voices that make up my conversation partners have been pushing me to go farther.

 

In my newest Netflix show of interest, one of the characters made the startling claim that we all have to choose between a happy life and a meaningful one.  To live meaningfully, he said, one must be constantly aware of the past and envisioning the future as we navigate the present.  To be truly happy, though, one must live entirely in the present without dwelling on the past or imagining the future at all.

That seems a bit extreme to someone who likes to look for a third way between the absolutes, and I tried to dismiss the thought.  I tried and failed because his words held seeds of truth.  As I thought about it I realized that I am not really happy … maybe cannot be happy … when I am thinking of the past or living in the future.  For me, at least, happiness is linked to the present, and I am not very good at living only in the moment.

 

A few days later, I heard an interview with a man who is conducting a study on happiness.  I would never have thought that “happiness” could be studied empirically, but it seems that scientists are making headway on that front.)  What I heard surprised me.  I was expecting more discoveries about the brain chemistry that is involved with happiness and other emotions since that kind of information has become more and more common in the past few years.  Instead, I the scientist began talking about tests that had been done using twitter and text messaging.  Those experiments seem to be pointing to exactly the same truth – the more our attention is focused on the present … on what we are doing at any given moment, the more likely we are to be happy.

My heart sank when I heard that confirmation of my struggle, but fortunately the conversation went on into more philosophical areas.  As the interview continued, the scientist began to talk about other wisdom that has been discovered and embraced by people seeking happiness throughout the ages.  Among the things he mentioned were the mindfulness of the Buddhist monks, the dancing of the Sufi dervishes, and, eventually, Jesus’ call to treat others as we would like to be treated. 

These (or similar) principles, he said, come up again and again across religions and cultures throughout history, and he was careful to note that they are also important parts of the happiness equation because simply living in the present moment does not seem to be enough.  We need to be doing something or working toward a goal that we believe is worthwhile if we want to find happiness, contentment, or joy.  You can’t just follow rule or even your heart.  Your heart has to be in the right place.

 

That seems like a more complete picture to me.  It fits with the words of the Psalmist and the wisdom of many Christians down through the centuries.  If we follow the guidance of God and the teachings of Christ, we will find a deep sense of joy and fulfillment welling up within us to fill each of our moments with light and life.

 

It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?  … Just take a moment to imagine it.  Imagine it and enjoy the feeling of lightness and hope …

 

because Jesus’ words in these verses of Matthew are probably going to bring you back to earth.

 

“You have heard that it was said …, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’  ²²But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment…. 

²⁷You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ ²⁸But I say to you that everyone who looks at [another] with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.  ²⁹

³³Again, you have heard that it was said …, ‘You shall not swear falsely, ….’  ³⁴But I say to you, Do not swear at all…. ³⁷Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.”

 

But he doesn’t leave it there.  In his typical fashion, Jesus pushes us beyond the gentile vagaries of general moral teachings and into the challenges of real life….

 

“If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.  ³⁰And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell….”

That’s enough to bring anyone down.

 

It may be that Jesus spoke those words as an exaggeration.  Or it may be that Jesus did not say those exact words since the story was shared orally for many years before it was written down.  But I think there is a truth in those words that we can’t avoid no matter how much we try to wriggle past it – a truth about the nature of our struggle to follow in Jesus’ way – a truth about our natures and the nature of sin. 

We are vulnerable – prone to sin, and it can grow from even the smallest seeds in our hearts.  I’m not sure that we can get away from that no matter how hard we try.  And even though Jesus sets a pretty high standard, I am pretty certain that if we try to ignore it, we will make things worse.

 

 

As I was considering this passage and feeling weighed down as I tried to figure out how to share the word that we shouldn’t sin (which, by the way, we shouldn’t.  That’s a very important point.  Don’t sin.)… as I was pondering that challenge, another voice came back to me.  I remembered a conversation that I had years ago about exactly these words.

It began with the question, “Do you think Jesus’ really expected people to cut off their hands or poke out their eyes?  That doesn’t seem like something he would say.”  As you may have guessed, the conversation took place at seminary where people spend a lot of their time asking questions like that.

It’s a good question.  Do you think Jesus’ really expected people to cut off their hands or poke out their eyes?  Does that sound like Jesus to you?

 

I don’t think so.  I think taking those words literally would be a big … and painful … mistake. 

 

Does your hand cause you to sin?  Do your eyes?

Of course not.  Your eyes only provide information, and your hands only do what you tell them to.  Jesus knew that as well as you and I do.  I think he was trying to get people to think about that – to recognize that the motivation behind our actions … the reason why we do something is at least as important as what we actually do.

 

It’s all about the heart.  Sin starts with a seed in your heart – a seed that begins to choke off the wellspring of our happiness and our joy – a seed that grows into a tangle that separates us from God.

I realize that that doesn’t exactly make things easier.  Instead of having something concrete to do (however horrific), we have the challenge of keeping our hearts clear and open to God, and that is a challenge that people have all been struggling with for all of history.

This is where something my professor called “God’s Holy Heart Transplant” comes in.  He brought it up when our discussion reached this point, and it is helpful.  It’s one of those ideas that comes from taking words and ideas from all over the Bible and fitting them together into a nice neat package, and rather than walking you through all those verses, I’ll just summarize…. (If you want a cheat sheet, you can look at verse two of “Here I am, Lord” in your hymnal).

 

God has a deep desire to draw us close and be one with us, and God wants that to be our choice as well.  Because of her love for us, though, she does not turn away and abandon us when we choose a different path.  Instead, she waits with us, ready to reach out, break apart the stoniness of our hearts, and remake them into loving, compassionate hearts.  God is willing to clear away the debris and the wreckage of our bad choices and rewrite the new covenant there so that we can feel her love and joy welling up again and sense her guidance more clearly.

 

That takes some of the pressure off.  It’s not just about me … about us struggling to find our own path or striving to keep ourselves in line with God’s greater vision for our lives.  God is there to offer us guidance and more.  If we open ourselves us to it, God will even help us change our hearts so that the journey becomes easier … becomes natural … becomes the source of our joy.

But it still has to start with us.

It still has to start within us. 

 

As we look toward the season of Lent and repentance, let us prepare the way for joy and happiness by first sharing the Psalmist’s prayer, “Create in me a clean heart …” so that we may sing our praises in pure delight.

May it be so.

Space for Prayer

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Psalm 143:8, Matthew6:24-34

There is a new term out there,

one that began in the mid-1990s but has grown

with the help of social networking sites like Twitter and Facebook.

It’s a term that I simultaneously love and loathe.

That term is “First World Problem.”

Have you heard this before? 

What is a “first world problem”?  I guarantee you, we all have them.

Well, according to the source of all knowledge and wisdom, Wikipedia, a first world problem is:

“a slang term used to refer to issues in the First World nations [that’s us] that are complained about only because of the absence of more pressing concerns.”

The term is used to “minimize complaints about trivial issues by shaming the complainer”

UNICEF even conducted a survey about first world problem in New Zealand.

The most common “first world problem” is slow web access followed closely by the frustration when workers get your fast food orders wrong.

I do love that trite little moniker because it can put things into perspective. 

And yet, it is sort of the modern day equivalent of the 50’s housewife chiding her children to eat the meatloaf because there are starving children in Africa.

It does put things into perspective and yet, for sensitive souls like myself (haha), I start questioning: are all my problems first world problems?

A 12^th snow day?  First world problem.

Water pipes bursting? First world problem, be glad you have water!

Tired at the end of the day because the kids are at home and pipes are bursting?

Just be glad you’re not out in the fields with a baby on your back and your children aren’t forced to work in sweatshops.

Yeah, I knew about first world problem before it was cool to know about first world problems. 

So are all my worries…all your worries…first world problems?

Maybe.  But I doubt it.

The cause of worries are unique.  But what somehow, as I read the Matthew text for today, I realize

that worry is not a first world problem.

Worry is not even a 21^st century or even a 20^th century problem. 

It’s not a problem that sprang up alongside urbanization and the Industrial Revolution.

Jesus talks about worry.  And the people around him worrying.  The people all around the world worry.

Worry is universal. 

What is your worry today?

When you think of your worry, what happens in your body?

If you are like many people, you’ll find your shoulders have crept close to your ears.

Your stomach gets tight.

Your breath gets shallow and your heart speeds up.

You may even yawn because of this…your brain doesn’t have enough oxygen. 

It seems as much as Jesus calls us to prayer, he is obviously onto something spiritually.

But he also had, knowingly or unknowingly, given us a spiritual gift that has physical benefits.

Because if we pray, we try to slow ourselves down.

When we pray, we actually talk about our problems, first world or otherwise, with someone, even if that someone is unseen.

When we pray, we breathe deeply. 

So who here needs some space to slow down and breathe?  Who here needs time and space to pray the prayer of your heart (not simply the words I stand up here and say?) 

Well if that’s you, then today is the day for you.  Because I’m going to give you that. 

And for those of you are a bit scared by unstructured silence, I’m going to help you structure it a bit.

And for those of you who think that church is no place to slow down and be quiet, then…well, you probably need it just as much as anybody.

Our prayertime is going to be guided by our morning psalm. 

This psalm has four movements, each one providing opportunity for us to pray a different prayer,

(you can find this in your bulletin).

May the day bring me word of your unfailing love. (here you can think about all that you are grateful for in your life and dwell on those good things and give god thanks)

I put my trust in you (we give an affirmation of our faith.  I like to think of this one as the “fake it till you make it” section.  Sometimes all I can say is “I put my trust in you.  I put my trust in you”)

Show me the way I should go (we ask God to guide us in decisions we are facing, or problems that are causing us to respond)

For to you I lift up my soul (here we lift up prayers of petition or intercession.  This is like our joys and concerns time, but you can share things with God that you might not share with any other person)

This is my daily prayer.  This helps me, if for even 5 minutes slow down and breathe.

In a moment we are going to have a full five minutes of quiet.  You may simply enjoy the silence to breathe deeply.

You may slowly work your way through this prayer, saying in your mind or even quietly the words of the psalm and inviting yourself into the guided prayer.

Or maybe you feel drawn to one in particular, and you might, say, spend five minutes meditating on your gratitude blessings, or holding a certain person up to God for healing.

We’ll begin with some deep breathing and then I will read the psalm once and then you can enter into the silence as you feel led.

So let’s take a few deep, grounding breaths…

May the day bring me word of your unfailing love.

For I put my trust in you.

Show me the way I should go.

For to you I lift up my soul. 

How do you feel?

Sisters and brothers, worry is not a first world problem.  It is not a contemporary issue.

Worry has its Biblical roots as far back as the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve hid from God.

This week, I hope if you find yourselves lost in worry, you return to Christ’s invitation to pray, to ask and seek and knock.

To quiet yourself and find the deeper place in your soul

Where there is peace and gratitude and Light.

May you be blessed this week.

Amen.

Save the Shoes

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Micah 6:1-8, Hebrews 2:14-18

For those of you who are married, or in any sort of relationship with another human being…and really, that would be all of you…you have I’m sure experienced what Torin and I experienced the other week.  Miscommunication (do you about that?  Maybe it’s just us).  We miscommunicated and he thought he was to preach last week and I thought I was to and we were both looking at the same texts and what do we do…

Well what we do is we worked with that.  After all, Micah’s text to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God is not one, I believe, that you can hear too often.  Once a week, if not more, would be just right, because if we’re honest, every day we are faced with new situations, new opportunities that ask us to respond.  How will we respond with justice, kindness, and humility? And every day we can grow from that question and find new insights about ourselves and our God.

But, alas, I decided not to preach on Micah and went, with fear and trembling, to the scripture from Hebrews.  And while I am usually put off by texts with references to the devil in them, I realized this scripture isn’t about the devil at all.  It’s about the power of God.  It’s about the power of Christ.  It’s about how light will permeate the darkness and darkness will not be able to overcome the light.  This scripture is an insight into who Jesus is, why he has come to humanity, and how he lives among us today.  What this scripture comes down to, I believe, is to highlight what Jesus’ purpose was, and is.

What is Jesus’ purpose?  Well it is clear that it is not to help the angels, but to help us, children of God.

When Torin and I were in seminary, we took an introduction to preaching course.  This is, indeed, one of the most terrifying courses most seminarians feared.  This is where you learn the art and craft of reading biblical text, writing something that is 12-20 minutes long (depending on your congregation) and then delivering it with good eye contact, paying attention to your voice, your body language, your emphasis, speed, volume….all while having someone take a video of you.  And then… watching it.  Terrifying.

Early on in the class we learned a technique for structuring our sermons.  Once we read the scripture, prayed, read the scripture again, asked questions of it…we were told to come up with a “focus” and a “function” of the sermon.  What is the “focus” and the “function” of what we are going to present.  Now the focus is the point of the sermon.  This is a one sentence (God forbid if you must have two sentences) explanation about what it is your are going to try to get across. 

So, for example, looking back on a recent Advent sermon of mine the focus was “We experience what Advent waiting is when we simply sit with others who are in pain.”  And then we come up with the function.  The function is what we hope those hearing the sermon will do because of hearing it.  Therefore, the function of that sermon was “To encourage people not to be afraid of simply sitting with others when they are in pain because their presence helps bring healing.”

The focus and function. Now you have just had your first homiletics session.

But if we think about it, identifying the focus and function isn’t just about sermon writing.  It is something we should be doing with our lives.  What is the focus and function of my life?  Now this isn’t exactly the existential question of “What is the meaning of life” but it is a very vulnerable, exciting, examination of our own lives.  We might even call it…discernment.  What is it that I am to be doing in this world and what affect do I want to have on this world?

This is what the author of Hebrews is doing when he or she speaks of Jesus.  According to Hebrews, the focus of Jesus’ life was to help the descendants of Abraham by redeeming their suffering.  His function was to empower those he touched to extend that grace to all they encounter—to meet others in their suffering and offer hope and healing.

When we accept the call to faith, when we step into the baptismal waters or have them flow down our head, we are accepting a life that continually asks that question: what is your focus and function?  What are you here to do, and how are you going to do it?  And once we have accepted the call to faith, we recognize that all we do, all we say, is rooted in the love and grace of Jesus Christ.  And from there, it is simply a matter of joyfully discovering what it is that gives us joy and passion.

We were all created with unique abilities and talents and circumstances and challenges that make us perfectly ripe for having a unique impact on this world.  But it seems to me, that if we don’t examine what that might be, we likely wander around thinking there is nothing we can do in a world that so desperately needs people engaging with it.  Loving it.  Changing it.

So, what is your focus and function?  As I have thought about this for myself, I have come to admit that what my focus and function was ten years ago is not what it is now.  I remember a few years back talking with our beloved neighbor Kitty Lozier.  Many of you know Kitty.  She is a good friend, a friend with a little “f” and with a big “F” meaning she is a Quaker, a member of the Religious Society of Friends.  She and her husband John haves become like the grandparents in abstentia of our own.  Like us, issues of peace and justice, reconciliation and service are close to their hearts. 

A few years back I was perhaps lamenting a bit.  I felt as though the life that I had led in my twenties, actively involved in all sorts of activist-type organization…I felt that I somehow let that life go.  I wasn’t involved as much in issues I felt passionately about.  I wasn’t going to marches or demonstrations or going to my congressperson’s office.  I didn’t feel like the change agent I thought I was before.  I just felt…tired.

And  I remember Kitty looked at me with wide eyes, and said in her best Wisconsin born accent “Oh…Carrie!  You are raising two boys [there were only two at the time].  You are teaching them so many things.  You are a cultural change agent.” (I swear, those are the exact words she said.  She said that I am changing the world by what I am teaching the next generation.”

[pause]

Now I don’t know if that’ s true or she said it to make me feel better.  But what it did was show me that when we ground the very depths of our being in the love and grace of the divine being, every phase of our lives will shift and modify what our purpose is.  The focus and function of our lives do not remain static.  They change and shift and morph and transform, as we grow and deepen and learn.

Which is to say…just because you’re old doesn’t let you off the hook.  Just because you’re young doesn’t mean your work isn’t needed for the world.  Stepping into those baptismal waters, being a child of God, means we have a purpose beyond merely existing.  The challenge is, through prayer, discernment, and in community…discovering and claiming God’s call in our lives.

And if you are like me, you may feel that what you are doing isn’t so significant.  Maybe you’re mourning a shift, like I was when I talked to Kitty.  If that is the case, then let me leave you with the story of Mark Bezos.  Bezos shared this story at a TED Talk in 2011.

Back in New York, I am the head of development for a non-profit called Robin Hood.  When I’m not fighting poverty, I’m fighting fires as the assistant captain of a volunteer fire company.  Now in our town, where the volunteers supplement a highly skilled career staff, you have to get to the fire scene pretty early to get in on any action.

I remember my first fire.  I was the second volunteer on the scene, so there was a pretty good chance I was going to get in….When I found the captain in charge [to find out my assignment] he was having a very engaging conversation with the homeowner who was surely having one of the worst days of her life.  Here it was, the middle of the night, she was standing outside in the pour rain, under an umbrella, in her pajamas, barefoot, while her house was in flames.

The other volunteer who had arrived just before me…got to the captain first and was asked to go inside and save the homeowner’s dog.  The dog!  I was stunned with jealousy.  Here was some lawyer or money manager who, for the rest of his life, gets to tell people tha the went into a burning building to save a living creature, just because he beat me by five seconds.  Well, I was next.  The captain waved me over . He said, “Bezos, I need you to go into the house.  I need you to go upstairs, past the fire, and I need you to get this woman a pair of shoes.”  So, not exactly what I was hoping for, but off I went—up the stairs, down the hall, past the ‘real’ firefighters, who were pretty much done putting gout the fire at this point, into the master bedroom to get a pair of shoes.

I carried my payload back downstairs where I met my nemesis and the precious dog by the front door.  We took our treasures outside to the homeowner, where, not surprisingly, his received much more attention than mine. 

A few weeks later, the department received a letter from the homeowner thanking us for the valiant effort displayed in saving her home.  The act of kindness she noted above all others: someone had even gotten her a pair of shoes.

In both my vocation at Robin Hood [the anti-poverty non-profit] and my avocation as a volunteer firefighter, I am witness to acts of generosity and kindness on a monumental scale, but I’m also witness to acts of grace and courage on an individual basis.  And you know what I’ve learned?  They all matter.  So as I look around this room…I would offer this reminder: don’t wait.  Don’t wait [until you’ve done something amazing] to make a difference in somebody’s life.  If you have something to give, give it now.  Serve food at a soup kitchen.  Clean up a neighborhood park.  Be a mentor. 

Not every day is going to offer us a chance to save somebody’s life, but every day offers us an opportunity to affect one.  So get in the game.  Save the shoes.

Christ has come into our suffering and met us in our pain, turning despair into hope.  Now, it’s our turn to decide…how will we do the same?  And as Mark Bezos reflected in a follow up interview after this TED talk—don’t wait to do something great, or you miss all the opportunities to do something good.

My friends, there is a world on fire.  And there are shoes to save.  May you discover what is yours to do and the strength to go and do it.  And my God’s grace and help go with you. Amen.

Baby Steps to Blessings

sermon by Torin Eikler
Micah 6:1-8     Matthew 5:1-12

Over the course of our Christmas holidays, I got the chance to watch “As Good as it Gets” for the third time.  I remember thinking that it was a good movie when it first came out several years ago, and as is often the case with good movies, each time that I see it, I find new things to appreciate and enjoy it even more.

The world of “As Good as it Gets” is populated by many fantastic and memorable characters, including one very irascible dog, but the two main characters are the most fascinating of all.  Melvin is a very successful author who suffers from a pretty extreme case of obsessive compulsive disorder and spend most of his time living as a recluse in his well-organized apartment.  Carol is a waitress at the café where Melvin habitually goes for breakfast – the only waitress who knows his exacting needs and is willing to serve him despite his rudeness.

The movie really picks up steam when Carol’s son gets sick, and she has to take off from work in order to stay with him in the hospital.  The disturbance this causes in Melvin’s life is (as you might expect) too much for him to handle.  It proves to be enough of an inconvenience that Melvin takes a big step out of his comfort zone and actually goes to the hospital to convince Carol that she needs to come back to work.

She refuses, as most mothers would, and Melvin is forced to take more extreme action.  He calls up a doctor friend and shows up at Carol’s home to take care of the problem.  Carol is skeptically grateful, thinking that Melvin is trying to manipulate her into an illicit liaison which is the farthest thing from his mind … at least until she mentions it.

 

From there, the story of their relationship takes many twists and turns, and the two eventually fall in love with each other.  But Carol just can’t get past all the strange and controlling behavior that is part and parcel of Melvin’s OCD.  Melvin, for his part, makes a huge effort to break the chains of his illness, but it proves to be too much for him to tackle all at once.

Carol gives up, saying in exasperation that she just wants a normal boyfriend, and normal is clearly just not an option for Melvin.  There is just too much to overcome … too many quirks for her to accept and adjust to … too many changes that need to be made for things to work.  The whole relationship is just too hard to manage, and she is not sure that it’s worth it to take the plunge into such a mess.

 

To me, Micah message seems like a similar challenge.  I know that these words are a comforting … to some people, and as Cindy has told us, they have formed the mission statement of at least one church.  I completely understand the sense of comfort that a short, clear list of theological virtues to pursue, but I find it difficult to fully embrace that mission because it is just too … big … for me.

It’s not that it’s vague … anything but.  The words are quite clear: “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly.”  My studies have even helped me understand what those words probably meant to Micah and the people he spoke to.  What’s hard for me is the all-encompassing nature of the challenge.

Doing justice is easy to say, but it is much harder to do.  There are so many different ways that we understand justice, and they often take us in opposite ways.  And if we reach for a deeper meaning then we have to drive into uncertainty.  We can’t grasp the perspective we would need to know God’s justice for certain.  And the only way to move forward is to pay attention to each situation because God’s justice seems to emerge from conversations and a deeper understanding of each person’s experiences.

Loving Kindness isn’t any easier for me.  The “kindness” Micah is talking about is the Hebrew concept “chesed.”  It is a complex idea that speaks of covenant and the mutual obligations of partners.  It’s about trust – trust that our partners will honor our interests just as we honor theirs.  It’s about being ready to treat the well-being of others as a higher value than our own vindication, and that means making ourselves vulnerable.

But the last words are easily the most difficult for me. Walking humbly is not one of my fortes.  I don’t do humility all that well, as you probably have noticed.  I like to feel like I know what I’m doing and what I’m talking about, and that makes it hard to admit that I can be wrong.  I’m getting better at it, but it’s still one of my biggest spiritual struggles.

Each one of these is hard enough … especially since Micah implies that we should be doing them all the time.  When you put all three together, it seems like an impossible leap from where I am now, … and I don’t do well with the impossible either.  As I said, it’s just too big to take all at once, and I begin to despair.

 

At times like that – times when I dwell on the difficulty for too long – I need something smaller … something more definite … something that I can actually get done … or at least make concrete progress on.  When I feel that way, find myself turning to Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount.  The beatitudes, in particular provide me some comfort.  They are not exactly smaller … not exactly easier to live up to, but they are more limited in scope and they are easier for me to embrace.

Some of them, I don’t really understand.  What does it mean to be poor in spirit, for example?  How does one “hunger and thirst for righteousness?” When do we find ourselves being persecuted for righteousness’ sake … reviled and persecuted on Jesus’ account?

Others come more naturally.  I understand what it means to be peacemaker.  I have experienced mourning.  I know mercy and meekness even if I struggle to embody them many times.  These are things that I can take hold of … goals that I can work toward … and actually accomplish from time to time.

 

What I really like, though, is not that these tasks are more limited in scope or that I feel like I can get something done.  No, what gives me hope and gets me moving again is that these challenges are not absolute.  I don’t have to do them all … and I don’t have to do them perfectly. 

If I make peace when I’m able, I am a peacemaker.  If I show mercy instead of ruthlessness, then I am merciful (at least for those moments).  If I find myself remembering loved ones with longing or aching for the loss of humanity’s soul, then I am mourning.  And if I am led to a place of stillness where I can let go of my pride in the face of others’ need to be the best, then I have been given the gift of meekness.

In all of these ways … in each of those moments, I succeed.  In bigger or smaller ways I succeed in living out the ideals of Jesus’ teaching.  I don’t need to make one huge leap into the fullness of life in Christ.  I can take smaller steps … little hops … maybe even a jump or two from time to time. 

 

When I first saw Melvin all those years ago, I felt sorry for him.  He was trapped in a world where he felt uncertain, even threatened … nearly all the time.  Then he found himself in love, and his struggles only got worse.  He simply couldn’t be the normal guy that Carol wanted.  It was touching and sad, and uplifting in the end, and I walked away from the movie feeling hope and relief.  Hope because in the end, when Carol decides to give it one last try, Melvin pushes himself to take a few small steps across cracks in the sidewalk in order to walk next to her.  Relief that I was nothing like him.

I’m not sure about that last thought anymore.  As I have watched the movie more recently, I have come to find an affinity for the poor man on the screen.  He is an extreme case, of course, and I hope that I will never find myself in that position.  Yet, I do see parallels in my own life – places where I am just as trapped in habits or compulsions that keep me from being the man I want to be – times when I despair of ever reaching a truer, fuller relationship with God or with the people I love because of my own faults and weaknesses. 

Maybe I’m not so different from Melvin in the end.  Maybe none of us are when we get right down to the bottom of it, but that doesn’t mean that we are lost and without hope.  Melvin found his way out of the tangled mess that bound him, but he didn’t do it all at once.  He didn’t … he couldn’t take it all in one big leap.  He had to take one little step at a time … one baby step after another toward a more normal life.

We don’t have to get it all right at once either.  There is a big, beautiful promise out there for us – a big picture in which justice and mercy kiss and righteousness flows like a mighty river – a new world in which we all (and we, each one) do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.  And we can get there … we will get there, not in one big leap but through baby steps … through small moments of choosing peace and mercy and meekness and righteousness … moments that change everything and uncover blessings to encourage and strengthen us along the way

 

Hold onto to that promise.  Grab hold of the big picture of a world and a people reborn.  But work at the small things.