Rest For Our Souls
Rest for Our Souls
Jeremiah 6:13-16; Philippians 4:4-7
As I stand here this morning, I can’t help but think about how much more complicated the world gets with each week. Right now, we stand in the midst of a global pandemic, a world-wide economic crisis, and social unrest at a level that I have not seen since I was a child in the 1960’s. Each of these issues happens on a global scale but each can be easily brought to the personal level: a once strong and healthy person tries to describe the feeling of drowning that he has while fighting the virus; a previously hard working, seemingly secure, breadwinner, sits in his car among thousands of other cars in a parking lot in Texas, waiting for a bag full of food; a white cop kneels on the neck of an African-American man who is crying out for his mother as he struggles to breathe. The turmoil of these days seems to have no end in sight. At the same time, the vision of such things haunts me in the middle of the night, almost every night.
If we’re not bothered then we must not be paying attention. However, if we think that it is in our power to solve a pandemic or the world economy or systemic racism on our own, then we are kidding ourselves. Of course, it would be satisfying if we could develop the vaccine in our kitchen but then there would be a fight over who would be willing to be vaccinated or who would get the vaccine first. It would be amazing if we could turn the economy back on, in one step. Yet, somehow, I’m sure that would get complicated fast, too: there would be lots of opinions on how people would get compensated and what work places would look like—so many things to debate. Even if we could make things right for George Floyd and his family and allow justice to prevail, does anyone really think that there is a surgery that could run deep enough to quickly cut out all of the racism that has metastasized over centuries?
Let me make myself perfectly clear: every incremental step that we are able to take toward dealing with the virus or putting the world back to work or eradicating racism, one step at a time—every one of those incremental steps matters. I think we all know how much better life can feel when we finally begin to honestly deal with what has needed to be dealt with for a long time. Just the fact that we are doing something can matter so much and real momentum gets built that way. I believe in trying to make things better but the last thing that I hold my breath waiting for is “perfect.”
Maybe I’m “old school.” Everyone loves the 70 yard touchdown pass, the grand slam, the three point shot from nearly half court. Me? I love the three yard run and a cloud of dust and then the three yard gain on the other side. I enjoy a really skillful bunt that advances the runners. I appreciate the person who sets a bone jarring pick and then rolls to the basket, gets the ball back and gently lays the ball in the hoop. Maybe I’m just missing sports these days. Or…maybe I’m trying to share a hard won life lesson.
When it comes to getting all the things that matter lined up so that things are finally fair and just and equitable, I think such work is far more like the guy who used to juggle plates on Ed Sullivan than it is like a person, working a jigsaw puzzle, who locks each piece into place as they go. A whole bunch of things matter and caring about them means doing what we can do even when we know that we are never going to lock anything in or gain total control. In other words, if we are not going to feel peace until everything is where it needs to be or where it ought to be, well..it’s going to be quite a wait.
I think Jeremiah has his finger on this same point. We start with the understanding that people—including you and me—are a mixed bag. It’s easy to fall prey to our lesser urges and instincts. It’s easy to be greedy—maybe not for everything or anything but how about that one thing—-you know what it is—that might be like Kryptonite if it came your way? It’s easy to let fear or pride rule our decision making. In Jeremiah’s words, it’s easy to cry, “Peace, peace, when there is no peace.”
It’s easy to look at our own little world and feel like everything is fine. Isn’t that how most of us felt a few months ago? We’d heard about a virus, but it was in China. We’d heard that there were problems for African Americans with racism every now and then but nothing that we’d seen. We knew that the economy could be a bit shaky but things seem okay at work for me. Things seem to have to become personal before we really pay attention. People I love have the virus or people I love lost their jobs or people I love share with me what it is like to be treated like a suspect everywhere they go. Or, I just have to watch and listen to an innocent man die under the pressure of the knee of a police officer, who has been charged with keeping the peace.
In the words of the prophet, Micah, we are called in this big, wide, confusing world, to do justice. In the words of the theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr, the justice that we generate, even with our best efforts, will always be “rough justice,” an approximation of what would be right, never a perfect expression. In this sense, we act in the big, wide, confusing world not to make things perfect but to make them better. And then we wake up the next day and go to work to make them a little bit better again. The imperfections should disturb us and move us to action. The steps taken can have their own satisfaction. However, when it coms to that big, wide, confusing world, I don’t think what any of us are likely to find is all that much peace. Maybe the best we do, in Jeremiah’s terms is work hard to not lose the ability to blush and feel shame in the face of what is wrong and then take those feelings and do our best to find “The ancient paths where the good way lies and walk in it.”
What I like about Jeremiah’s words is that he offers us perspective by making things personal. We have choices about who we want to be and how we want to walk in this world. We are affected by everyone else’s choices and we affect everyone else with ours. However, my responsibility is to make the choices that are mine to make in the most intentional and informed way that I can. Obviously, this means that I need to study the world and the people around me carefully. I need to spend far more time asking questions and listening than I spend pontificating. As I suggested last week, other people’s experiences are different than mine. We share a common humanity but it doesn’t do anyone any favors to operate on the assumption that this means that everyone else is like me or secretly wishes that they could be me. There is so much that I can learn from listening intently to the people around me. We all should be praying every day that God will give us ears that can hear!
At the same time, my equally important responsibility is to have enough of an internal life that I have an honest assessment of who I am at my best and at my worst. What do I really struggle to hear from someone else? Where do I have blindspots when it comes to other’s lives. What are the feelings—fear, anger, frustration—that tend to drown out anything else that might be happening around me? What have I learned about the times when the worst of me gets in the way of the best of me, much less when the worst of me gets in God’s way? What I’m suggesting here is that honest self-criticism is a necessary part of being a whole person.
Again, just to be clear. Honest self-criticism doesn’t mean that I walk around all day telling myself what a loser I am. No…honest self-criticism means that I entertain the possibility that I might be wrong. Honest self-criticism means that I am willing to realize that the problem isn’t the person who annoys me but the way in which that person embodies things that I don’t like about myself. Honest self-criticism means that there are certain situations in which I really need to work at being a better listener or asking better questions or being more open to growth. Honest self-criticism may mean that when I make mistakes I own them and apologize.
Now, it would be lovely if I could tell you that the gift of doing this work is that if you do it well enough, then you will find peace. However, this is just as elusive as trying to find peace by solving the world’s problems. It is just as wonderful to grow incrementally as a person as it is to help the world grow incrementally on some issue. The people who love you will be astounded when you take even a small step in that personal growth. They’ll look you in the eye and say, “Wow…I know how hard that was for you!” Or, you may have the chance to recognize that growth for someone near you. Encouraging each other rather than belittling one another is often the difference between hope and despair. Honestly, if you look at the world or yourself and think, “That’s it…We’re done here!” you’ve either stopped looking or stopped caring. You’re crying, “Peace! Peace!” when there is no peace.
So, where does this peace come from? As a person of faith, I have to say that peace comes from God. It’s a gift. Consider this…no one lived in more messed up times than Paul and the earliest Christians. Christians were being persecuted and arrested and tortured and sent to prison on a daily basis. In the meantime, they were struggling as a really diverse group of people to live under the same roof and share what they had with one another. They were disagreeing with one another and hurting each other’s feelings and just getting in each other’s way. Nothing was easy.
What’s Pauls advice to these people? “Rejoice!” Paul makes this radical suggestion that things don’t have to be perfect in order to find things for which we can give thanks ever day. Instead of allowing tough circumstances to make you aggressive, make your gentleness be the identifying thing about you for others. As a gentle person if you can lower the level of anxiety in the people around you, if you can defuse a conflict, if you can defer to someone else’s needs, then you are walking in faith. In essence, Paul says if God is in the midst of everything that’s going on, wouldn’t you rather spend your time trying to stay connected to God than just coming up with more things to worry about?
Paul’s promise is that if we go out of our way to find things for which we can be grateful, if we worry less and pray more, if we are willing to thank God for all the little sources of joy, and maybe even add some joy to the lives of those around us, we will know peace. This peace will defy anyone and everyone’s understanding because anyone who looked at your life or the world would see plenty to worry about or plenty of reasons to complain. The truth is that you can find those reasons yourself so in Paul’s words, you “need to guard your hearts and your minds.” However, to be able to stand in tough, challenging circumstances and still feel connected to God and still feel peace—that is the gift of the Spirit.
So, we do what we can to help in this world and we rejoice that we got to make a difference, however small. We learn from those who are different than ourselves and we rejoice that there is still so much to learn and so many ways to grow. We take a walk with someone we love and give thanks for a good meal and play a game that makes us forget about things for a while and we find rest for our souls. We find God’s surprising peace even in tough times.