The Way Forward: Humility
The Way Forward: Humility
Philippians 2:1-8
August 18, 2024
This morning, our project continues: to lay a foundation for talking to one another about the future of the church. My job is to talk to you about who I think we’ve been and how I have seen us be that church. Your job is to think about what it might look like to be that kind of church in a new way. How do we grow and not lose our identity?
What I’ve said to you is that the church is a tapestry of different threads—different essential traits. I’ve tugged on one of those threads already: gratitude. Last week, I tried to talk about what it means to be a grateful church. This week, I want to tug on another thread—humility.
Here’s my first point: gratitude and humility go hand in hand. There are a lot of people who try to shame others into being humble. I’m going to point out your every flaw. I’m going to tell you exactly what’s wrong with you. The first order of business is going to be for me to put you in your place…and that place is on your knees and groveling and hoping against all hope that there is a God who could actually care about someone as awful as you. (I don’t know why anyone would put up with this, much less seek it out, but this church seems to have always existed.)
Here’s the thing. This approach gets things backwards. Yes, if you are convinced that you are a piece of trash or some person with a robe on has convinced you of that, and then you find out you’re loved, then you are going to be grateful. If you’ve been dangling over the flaming pit of hell and you are pulled back at the last minute…wow, what a relief that is! (It’s like getting hit repeatedly with a hammer: “I’m so grateful that’s over!”)
The problem is that the whole “here’s a ton of guilt and shame and then maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll be given relief” theology is, at it’s core, not about humility but humiliation. Humble people don’t grovel. Frightened people do. There’s a quote that I really like: “Humble people don’t think less of themselves. Humble people think about themselves less.” The theology of humiliation takes a person and locks them in a dark closet with their darkest thoughts and says, “And don’t you even think about coming out of there until you’ve fixed yourself!”
One of the most distinctive things about this church is that we do not deal in humiliation and guilt and shame. We are certainly not a hellfire and damnation kind of place. That’s clear. However, we are also not a “humiliation and guilt and shame lite” church either. What’s that mean? Let me explain…
When I was growing up and going to church every Sunday, there would be a call to worship, a hymn, and then a confession of sin. I was a Presbyterian. We didn’t go to a booth for confession. We sat in our pews and confessed our sin in unison with one another. Then, we would collectively receive an assurance of pardon. Once we had gathered together and opened worship, the first order of business was confession and pardon.
In the most generous reading, the emphasis was on the pardon. Folks were bringing what they’d been through in the past week with them to worship. They needed to let that stuff go. They needed to be reminded that God was a loving, forgiving God. However, the experience often was, “So, let’s start with what’s wrong with all of you.” No one was being humiliated but everyone was still being put in their place.
It used to really bother my father that we never had a confession of faith and assurance of pardon in worship at the Union Church. At first, I think he thought I just forgot it. In typical father/son fashion, after years of stewing on this problem and saying nothing, Dad finally asked a direct question: “Why don’t you have a prayer of confession at the Union Church?” (Maybe your father was different than mine but this would have been an example of us getting to the point rather quickly—asking a question after years.)
I remember explaining to him that I thought there was a time, historically, when what brought people to church was guilt and the need for relief. I even granted that there were lots of places where that still was the case. However, I was convinced (and remained convinced to this day) that there is an emerging group of people who’s primary reason for coming to church is not to find forgiveness. These people don’t walk around thinking about sin and hell and heaven. These people are looking for community and connection and meaning and purpose. These people are looking for a different way to live.
Let me see if this example works as a sort of analogy. You call up an acquaintance. You say, “Hey…let’s go take a walk. I’d like to get to know you better. I’ve got some ideas about some pretty worthwhile things we might do together.” The other person seems excited about the opportunity. Finally, the day arrives. You meet in the parking lot and head out on that walk. However, the conversation takes a weird turn right away. They were glad to see you and greeted you with a smile. However, the other person says to you, “I don’t know the details of what you’ve done wrong but I know that we’ve all done things. I just want you to know that whatever you’ve done wong, you’re forgiven. God has forgiven you. Now, don’t you feel better?” The thing is that you don’t feel better. You just want the walk to be over.
By contrast, imagine if the walk started just by pointing out to each other how great it is to live in a beautiful place with a nice trail. Imagine if you looked at each other and said, “You know, I’m so glad to get this time. I’ve really been looking forward to this.” Imagine if, threaded through the conversation, were pauses, “Look at that hawk! Did you hear the coyote just now?” If gratitude comes first, then humility follows.
When we experience awe and gratitude, when we feel lucky to be where we are and to be with the present company, we think about ourselves less. Gratitude puts us in our place but that place isn’t groveling. The proper place for us is standing in the present moment with an open heart and with a smile on our faces, feeling like this moment might be a gift. Instead of groveling on demand, this moment turn out to be about grace and growth.
There was a day when my father acknowledged that there was a difference between being informal and being careless. He looked at me and said, “I see what you’re doing here.” There was a growing sense from him of why we do things the way that we do them here. That was a fun conversation: “You’re about being honest and real!”
If worship isn’t about putting people in their place by humiliating them or by offering them “humiliation lite,” then what is it about. I think it is about putting people in their place but that place turns out to be a shared moment with a community of caring people. Life is hard. Weeks can be overwhelming. All of us at different times have a huge need to remember that we are not alone, that hope is not dead, that there is still room for wonder and awe, that it is possible to think differently, that it might even be possible to live differently. We need to remember, together, that we get to make choices and that those choices are our ultimate expression of faith.
Of course, this doesn’t always work. It certainly doesn’t happen on demand. Sometimes we have to be patient. However, there are things we do that seem to create the space in us for something to take place. What’s the first order of business when we gather? We are going to quiet ourselves and listen to some music. We are probably going to share a laugh or two. We are going to great each other and that greeting will be heartfelt. We find our collective voice in the call to worship and then we do our best to use that collective voice and sing. We spend time with our children and feel hope bubble up inside us. We talk about what’s going on in our lives—always with a fierce honesty and often following up after worship on someone’s shared concern. Finally, we listen to Scripture and reflect together about who we might be called to be.
It’s a stew. There are so many ingredients. And, of course, the most important ingredient of all is the Spirit, God’s presence, the resonant missing note that can make an everyday moment land with power. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. When it doesn’t, it’s probably because you or I or all of us together got in God’s way. However, there’s not a note of guilt or shame or humiliation in this stew—ever. In this church, “GF” stands not for “gluten free” but for “guilt free.” May that always be so…”
When church works, we aren’t humiliated but we are humbled. We don’t go out into the world thinking about how awful we are and wondering if we can make it five minutes before we need to be forgiven again. Instead, we go into the world asking humble questions. “How can I help?” “What’s the job here that no one wants to do but needs to get done? That’s the one I want.” “How can I find a way to help this other person shine?” A humble person realizes that real meaning is made when I step beyond my own wants and needs. A humble person craves that kind of meaning and, having tasted it, wants nothing more than to taste it again.
One of my favorite things about my work at the Union Church is that there are chances to remember this truth every day. Should the pastor change lightbulbs and water the piano and make coffee and lock and unlock the building? Of course they should because such things remind us that we are servant leaders, that the value of a task isn’t whether it is beneath us but whether it needs to be done and, if so, then how are we going to get that job done. (Yes, you can do almost anything to the glory of God! Calvin was right, Dad!)
I suspect that the change will be how the church intentionally encourages a lot of different people to come to own different tasks that need to be done. If you’re in “your house,” you don’t look for someone else to do things. If you’re in your house with your family, you each probably have the jobs you do and those jobs end up being ways that you signal, “Ya…we are family. We are in this together.”
This is your house. This is your family. Who’s going to make the coffee? Who’s going to set up the courtyard? How will you signal one another this this is our home, that you are my brother or my sister, that whatever needs to get done will get done and that the best moments will probably be when we tackle the worst of those jobs together.