Friday, August 2, 2013

Sermon for 10th Sunday after Pentecost

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran on 7/28/13
Scripture: Genesis 18:20-33

It was quite a while ago now. A good friend of mine was in the midst of a rough patch in life. Struggling to figure out what she wanted to do with herself. Struggling with an alcoholic ex-boyfriend, borderline abusive and certainly neglectful. This after a string of bad relationships, family difficulties, and health problems.

I had invited her along to a seminary event, a time of prayer and worship that I hoped would give her a moment of peace in the turmoil of her life. Her difficulties were, of course, the heart of all our conversations that day. At one point, I asked, “Aren't you angry at God for all that's happened to you?” She said no.

I was. It was the reason I asked the question. I was angry. This was someone I cared about a great deal (we were dating at the time), and the unfairness of her life had finally gotten to me. She was getting a bum deal in my opinion. I was angry and, in truth, despite her denials, I think she was too.

That happens more often that I think we care to admit. Life's injustices, both big and small, can get to any of us after a while. But we're afraid to be honest about the anger that we feel in those circumstances. And I'm not sure what it is that we're afraid of.

Do we fear that it will harm our faith? Oh, there's a lot of people out there like that. “I'm so angry at you, God, that I won't believe in you anymore.” Interestingly enough, many atheists don't take these people very seriously because they know the truth. They still believe; they just don't want to admit it. Like Mel Gibson's apostate preacher character in the movie Signs. “Why are doing this to us?” he snarls at God throughout the movie, each statement a prayer in disguise.

What is it we fear? Do we think God will retaliate somehow? Make things worse? I find it hard to believe God would do that. After all, this is the one who sent his son to live, die, and then rise again to save us from sin and death. He's obviously pretty committed to us. He obviously loves us. He obviously has power beyond our comprehension. I think he's big enough to handle our anger.

And that's the piece we so often miss: the freedom that grace gives us. Yeah, life sucks sometimes. Tell God about it. Let him have it with both barrels. Even argue with him if you must. He can handle it.

Our Hebrew forebears understood this far better than we do. Which is one reason why our Old Testament lesson today comes as something of a shock to us. This is an argument between God and Abraham. One of many such arguments that occur throughout the Old Testament. Moses on the mountaintop of Sinai argues with God. Jonah argues with God. Job argues with God. Half the psalms are arguments. People are ticked off about what's going on. They think God's being unfair. Most of the time, we mortals lose those arguments, but there are a few times when we win.

Can you imagine that? Having an argument with God and winning. Of the examples I just gave, Moses does just that. They're at the top of Mt Sinai. Moses has just gotten the Ten Commandments and the people of Israel are down at the foot of the mountain having a good old time with that whole Golden Calf thing. God's ticked. He tells Moses, “I've had it with these people. I'm going to destroy them all and start over.”

Moses says back to God. “No, you're not.” and then argues with him. Read about it in the 32nd chapter of Exodus sometimes. In the end, God relents. Moses wins the argument.

We can hardly imagine doing something like that, and yet there it is, in the Bible right in front of us. The truth is, we are too much the descendants of our Greek forebears than of our Hebrew ones. The Greeks with all their philosophy, most of which is a good thing, but in this case not so much.

In this case, it's the “platonic ideal” that gets in our way. And what is that? Take a chair for instance. The platonic ideal says there is such a thing as a perfect chair, ideal for all circumstances, perfect in every way, something ever chair aspires to be and falls short. When we apply this philosophical construct to God (which we do all the time without realizing it), we envision God's perfection in this ideal way. That makes God distant and unchanging, makes prayer a gesture of futility. God's made up his mind, he's not going to change it. But the Hebrews understood God as relational, like a friend or a parent or a spouse. You love them, you talk with them, and on occasion, you get mad at them. And vice versa.

Which brings us back to Abraham and his argument with God over Sodom and Gomorrah. Notice what's going here. God's angry and he has good reason to be. His angels who had gone into the cities to visit with Abraham's cousin Lot were nearly gang-raped by a howling mob. Hardly a friendly reception.  But Abraham says something that gives God pause. “You're really going to destroy everybody because of the actions of a few?”And then the debate begins. How many righteous people will it take for God to spare the city? Abraham is clearly winning the argument. Every time he brings up a number, God relents. But in the end, Abraham loses, because there are still too few righteous in the cities.

This story is frustrating to me because I think Abraham gave up too early. You want to know how to win an argument with God? It's easy. You bank on his mercy. It's the lesson Jesus is trying to teach in our Gospel lesson and it's what Abraham is doing here. It's how Moses won his argument. Lord, will you not show mercy? I am completely convinced that Abraham could have talked God down even further, and that for Lot and his family alone the cities might have been spared. I believe that because how many righteous does it take to spare the whole human race? Just one: Jesus Christ.

That's who God is. That's the depth of his love and mercy for us. You can never go wrong counting on that. Life is hard. It throws stuff at us all the time. We get hit with misfortune, disease, accident, relationship difficulty, financial ruin, and a whole host of other disasters all the time. And it's okay to get mad about that and it's okay to tell God about that anger. He can handle it. He's big enough and he's forgiven you worse things. So go ahead, get angry when life turns sour. There's nothing you can do to make God stop loving you. Nothing it all.

Lord, will you not show mercy in our time of need? Of course, he will. Amen.

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