Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.
2 Corinthians 4:12
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep, but as they awoke they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us set up three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah,” not realizing what he was saying. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
Luke 9
Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart.
In the name of God, Amen.
I’ve spent time this week looking up and reading biblical passages that speak directly to the human heart. Our hearts, in biblical understanding, are what hold all that is true about us in our innermost being—our souls, our spirits, our true and deeper selves—as contrasted with some the outward things about us with which we mostly define ourselves and the part of us that we present to others.
You may remember the story of a shepherd boy named David who became king of ancient Israel. His story begins when the prophet Samuel went out in search of the next king, and at the Lord’s instructions, Samuel came to the home of a man named Jesse who had seven sons. Samuel assumed that it would be the eldest son whom God had chosen, but it was the youngest one, and therefore the least likely son, whom God wanted. The Lord said to Samuel these words: “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature… for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
The Lord looks on our hearts, too, and sees to the heart, which we acknowledge every Sunday when we pray: O God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid.
There are many heart references in Scripture. From them, it’s clear that God not only sees our hearts, sees our true selves; but that God also cares for our hearts. God cares.
For example, from the Book of Psalms—the prayer book of ancient Israel:
O tarry and await the Lord’s pleasure; be strong, and he shall comfort your heart; wait patiently for the Lord. (Psalm 27:11; 18)
From the Book of Proverbs, a compilation of wisdom passages from the ancient world:
Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life. (Proverbs 4:2)
Jesus was especially mindful of the human heart. Take heart, he would say to those who came to him for healing. Do not let your hearts be troubled, he told his disciples during the last supper they shared before his arrest. His main worry seemed to be that his disciples would lose heart; in other words, get discouraged or afraid.
Jesus was human, too, and he had his own moments of discouragement: Now my heart is troubled, he once acknowledged to God in prayer. And what should I say, Father, spare me from this hour? He then answered his own question, No, it is for this reason that I have come to his hour. Father, glorify thy name.
How is your heart these days?
There is ample reason for our hearts to be troubled, but there are also sources of love and goodness to sustain our hearts. Hear again this remarkable sentence from the Apostle Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians:
Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart.
The context for his heart reference in the passage we read this morning is a bit obscure. He writes about Moses, and veiled and unveiled faces (none of which makes sense to me) and as in many of Paul’s letters, it sounds like he’s having an argument with somebody.
If we widen our lens a bit and read more of his letter, it’s clear that things are not going well for Paul. He lists many ways that he and others close to him have been misunderstood, mistreated and are suffering, not only at the hands of unsympathetic religious leaders and a hostile political environment, but also from within the community of Christians—ample justification for anyone to lose heart. But he doesn’t. At the same time he want us to know that his ability to persevere amid hardship isn’t on his strength alone, but through the mercies and love of God:
For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. (2 Corinthians 4:6-7)
Last Sunday, Fr. Todd spoke to you from this pulpit about the challenge and the blessing in Jesus’ teaching that we are to love not only our family and friends, but also our enemies. Todd acknowledged how hard it is to love our enemies and that we’re getting a lot of practice now—not because we want enemies, but because there is a concerted, organized, well-funded, and politically empowered movement to dismantle many of the things that we care about and have dedicated our lives to.
Fr. Todd reminded us all how easy it is to respond to such violence with violence, to lead with anger and frustration. That we need to take care of ourselves, get enough rest, and prepare for the steady, difficult work of discipleship in these times.
To that good counsel, which I affirm, I can only add the gentle reminder that God sees us, and sees all that is happening. God knows us, each and everyone, as we are, better than we know ourselves. And God cares. God does not judge our hearts and what resides there. God sees our hearts and all that resides there, and God responds, as Paul says so clearly, with mercy.
It wasn’t willpower or good self-care practices alone that kept Paul and his companions going. It was the love and light of God shining in their hearts. Don’t get me wrong: we need willpower, and good self-care, so that we can direct our minds and hearts toward the risen Jesus, who is with us, and wants us to remember that we abide with him and in him.
From that place, within our deepest selves where God comes to us in the person and spirit of Jesus, we are then called to live as God’s beloved and do what we can to help others know that they, too, are loved.
That call is as much a mystery as is the presence of God, Jesus’ living spirit, within us. While in some places in Scripture Jesus assures us that those who turn to him will find rest for their souls, for his burden is easy and his yoke is light, in other places he says the exact opposite—if we wish to be his disciples, we must take up our own crosses and follow him.
I can’t reconcile those opposites any better than you can, except to observe that in the course of a life—and sometimes, in the span of a day—both are true. And sometimes the call—or simply life itself—requires from us far more than we have to give, what we are capable of giving.
How many of us feel that way now? I know that I do.
As you know, the sermon I preached at the Prayer Service for the Nation on January 22nd received a lot of attention, both positive and negative. The volume of response has been overwhelming. As a result, I have also received more invitations to speak around the city, the country, and even the world than I could possibly accept. And I can’t help but wonder what people expect me to say. I told my husband the other day that I only have one sermon. But he reminded me that Jesus only had one sermon, too. Maybe that’s enough. But it doesn’t feel like enough right now. I don’t feel like enough. That’s what I bring to God these days—that feeling of not being enough. And yet the calls keep coming.
If that’s true for you, I invite you right now, here in church, into a simple meditative practice, as a way of opening ourselves to receive the loving, merciful presence of God. If you’d rather not, that’s fine. There’s no pressure. But if you’re willing:
Take a deep breath. Close your eyes.
Imagine, in your mind’s eye, that God is calling you up a mountain, just as we heard that Jesus climbed a mountain one fateful day.
You might be alone, or like Jesus, you might bring a few people who are especially close to you. Whether or not you can see him, imagine that Jesus is walking beside you.
When you get to the top, stand there for a moment and look around. What do you see? Imagine yourself waiting. In the waiting, allow yourself to receive the love that God has for you, that God loves you, fully and completely, as you are, for who you are, that God sees and knows everything about you, and loves you.
Then, on that mountain, in God’s loving presence, ask for guidance:
What, Lord, are you asking me to do now?
If you don’t hear anything, perhaps this is a time of waiting for you. Most of life is waiting.
If life itself requires many things from you now, hold all of them before God now and ask for guidance, strength, release—whatever you need.
If you hear or sense something that feels like a call, or a task that is yours to know—something you’ve known or sensed for sometime, or something new given all that’s happening around you, how does that call feel in your heart?
Whatever you hear, or don’t hear, you might ask for God to walk with you, every step of the way, or for the grace to feel God’s presence with you and to trust that presence even when you don’t feel it.
When you’re ready, begin your walk down the mountain.
As you go, hear God’s words for you: You are my beloved.
Never forget who you are. Tend to your heart. For you are God’s beloved. And you are enough. Amen.
