Waiting, Longing , Hoping - June 11, 2006
Romans 8:12-25I have a confession to make: I am not very good at delayed gratification. I haven’t told my parents this yet, but almost every year when I was growing up I knew exactly what I was going to get for Christmas well before the actual date, because when snooping, if I found a box or a bag, I took a good long look at the contents, inventorying what was probably mine and what was probably my little sister’s. I was a sneaky little kid, too, putting everything back exactly as I found it so that my parents could be none the wiser. I wasn’t sad about this on Christmas morning either. I didn’t care that there were never many surprises.
I was reminded of this habit recently when a friend sent me some of his writings to read, and I promised to save them for airplane reading when I went to Atlanta. But I didn’t; how could I have all that good reading material in my office at home and not dig into it? I recently got a book of daily devotions, meant to be read one day at a time so that they will last the long months of summer and fall. I’m in the middle of July right now, and the books I was saving for my long, four-airport flight to Birmingham on Friday? Done.
You can hardly blame me for this deficiency in being able to wait. Waiting’s hard. I just celebrated Mother’s day, my birthday and the anniversary of my ordination, all in the span of three weeks. I have to wait eleven months until there is a day set aside that is special, just for me. By February, I’m going to be climbing the walls for some sort of celebration. No, when there is something to look forward to, I am anything but patient.
I’ve been thinking about why this is lately, why it seems so very human for us to be impatient, to eschew delaying something that would make us happier, even if waiting would prolong the happiness. There are ways in which we try to train our children to wait for gratification, to help them understand how “the real world” i.e. the cruel harsh world, works. Even our pets—I have been trying to convince Tanner to wait longer and longer, to sit quietly in the spot that I tell him to sit for a longer and longer period of time before I give him his dog treat. I tell myself that it’s to teach him self-control, but he’s a pretty well-behaved dog, so maybe its really to teach me self-control.
The dominant culture in which we live used to support this idea of delayed gratification, but I think we have seen that this is not the case anymore. When 20-year-olds are given credit card applications, and start having visions of all the ‘stuff’ that could be charged—visions the credit card companies are all to happy to encourage—well, I think we can agree that we are not living in the age of delayed gratification.
For some of us, our inability to wait might stem from some rather unpleasant memories of what it is to be surprised. For some, the surprises of our lives that have had the most impact on our understanding of how the world works have not been happy ones. Many times, surprise turns our world upside down. I’m thinking of that snowy night when I learned that my parents had been seriously, and in my mother’s case, permanently injured in an automobile accident, and the early September morning less than a year later when I heard that my best friend’s father had been killed in a freak farming accident. Sometimes when surprise shatters everything that we know, we stop wanting to be surprised, and we start looking for that which can reassure us in the short run, even if it means giving up longer-term satisfaction in exchange for shorter-term happiness—or something that looks like it.
Paul writes to a church that is waiting, longing, hoping for the Kingdom to become a reality. In short, Paul writes to us. The groaning of creation is no exaggeration for much of humanity. Many of you know that I have a friend, (who I call Cassie) who lives and pastors a church in the Gulf region. Cassie wonders if we have forgotten the groaning of the people who live there. Last week, she wrote this:
The Coast is showing signs of recovery after the Storm. My view is from the small city in the middle of the coastal area which leaves out many destroyed areas to the West.
Businesses north of the tracks have re-opened in many areas. We wait for service at the pharmacy, restaurants and other service businesses because of the staff shortages. I worry that the few nursing homes don't have enough staff to take care of patients. The large church retirement home will close again and re-build farther north. Other retirement facilities are damaged. Big national stores are open, the smaller stores are having a difficult time.
Several more homes in my neighborhood are gone, torn down because they couldn't be re-built. Other homes are occupied again. Most have work going on in them and we see fewer blue roofs in this immediate area. My repairs are not done as yet because I cannot get a carpenter, a plumber, or an electrician to set foot on this property of if they do come by, I cannot get them to return. Since we are able to live in our house, I have no complaint. The pitiful folks are those with torn out homes and no builders.
People are tired of the trailers given out after the storm. The trailers are tiny, loud, not safe in thunderstorms and make family life a misery. The jolly "we'll do fine!!!" attitude is drifting into feeling nothing about anything. I received a pal's church newsletter this week. The newsletter is a list of who left the area, new addresses for those who stayed and then a long list of those who no one can find. Think about how it is to do ministry under these circumstances.
I see that Big Seminaries are planning conferences on "Dealing with Disasters" and I wonder WHO DID THEY TALK WITH DOWN HERE? None of my colleagues seem to know who or what or how the Big Sems are offering these events without speaking with us.
At the Presbyterian Women's Birthday Offering dinner last night at my husband’s church, listening to the President review the past year made me tear up. Even though she made every effort to spin the events into positives, I heard the suffering of lost homes, displaced lives, shattered spirits and death in her voice. The fact that we gals sat there dressed up and eating salads made the poignancy of the moment overwhelming.
Having said the above, we remain convinced that God is working on our behalf and in our lives in powerful ways to bring about the transformation God has for each of us.
When I stop to consider my friend and her congregation in the Gulf coast region, I am torn between a prayer of gratitude for all that I have, and shame at my own impatience with silly things—inconsequential things, things that don’t really matter. When I room with Cassie next week at General Assembly, I wonder how many days it will take me to feel as if it is okay to tell her about our church’s new roof, when her home has a blue tarp on it, and her husband’s historic old law office has been reduced to firewood.
These are difficult things for me to say on a beautiful Spring day, when the sun is shining, and families are gathering for vacations after the long school year, and the sound of Pomp and Circumstance is still ringing in our ears from graduations this weekend. It is difficult for me to switch gears from our wonderfully successful Chicken Barbecue yesterday. But I spent time in this building yesterday, and I watched as young Emily took her turn at filling cups of coleslaw, and as Becky Gapinski was setting up for carry outs, and as pies were being sliced, and as the experienced chicken cookers sat and watched the younger ones flipping chicken. And I sat in a Session meeting the other night as some new and exciting ideas were bandied about, and somebody came into my office yesterday even in the midst of the chicken barbecue, and wanted to talk about visioning for this church, and I thought to myself, “Things are happening here. Good things.” And my feelings of impatience got the best of me a little maybe. It’s so easy to get caught up in the here and now, whether you’re here and now is the despair that is happening in the Gulf region, or your here and now is the excitement of beginning a third year of ministry together in a vibrant, active church.
I think Paul’s message to the church in Rome is not that the here and now doesn’t matter, but that in the scheme of things, the here and now is not the last word, or the Lasting Word. Paul’s first and last word to the church in Romans, is the word that is hope in the face of what looks like uncertainty. Many times the Christian life means believing in something that seems just beyond our reach…or sometimes believing in something that is far beyond our grasp.
Believing in what you cannot see is risky. Remember, as a species we don’t generally like surprises. But the gospel message is not one of surprises--it is one of miracles, and startling grace, to be sure—but the gospel message is one of certainty. Hear again these words from Paul:
22We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; 23and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 24For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? 25But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
The redemption of the body that Paul talks about is the reality of the Kingdom of God that we can see, taste, and touch. That is not what we are promised in this life, however. We are promised that we are saved through Christ. We who sit in an intact building, with a new roof going up that is already bought and paid for—we are promised salvation. But so are those we don’t know, who this morning are getting ready to go to church in a building with a tarp for a roof, if their building survived at all—those who will go home after coffee hour and try to prepare dinner in a trailer provided by the government.
Today after worship Larry and Marge Bartz will present to us a glimpse of their experience in Gulfport this winter. I hope that you will see their presentation, join in prayer for Cassie and her people and all those affected by the storms of life last year, and renew your commitment to be the hope in a broken and fearful world that cannot see hope, except to see the Christ in us.
Thanks be to God.
