Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Pastoral Letter to the people of Canadochly

Read in worship at Canadochly on August 5, 2018

Dear sisters and brothers in Christ of the congregation of Canadochly Lutheran Church,

Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you from our Lord Jesus Christ. I truly give thanks to God for you, for our life together, for our partnership in ministry, and specifically for all your prayer and support of me in these difficult days. I write this from my hospital room so I have not yet gotten home to see your cards, but I have seen your texts and received your phone calls. I am immensely humbled by your love and care. Thank you all.

I wanted to model this pastoral letter on Paul’s epistles, beginning with the sort of greeting he might employ when writing to the Corinthians or the Ephesians. Paul has been on my mind during my convalescence because it was he who famously wrote of his “thorn in the flesh,” an unknown malady that plagued him much as my UC does me. God’s answer to Paul’s prayer for healing of that thorn has often troubled me: “My grace is sufficient for you.” That sounds suspiciously like a “no.”

No is not something we want to hear from God. Oh, it’s one thing to hear a no when we pray for the trite and unimportant. No to a winning lottery ticket or a victory for our sports team is expected and acceptable. But, no to an end to our suffering? No to the end of a horrible illness? No to sparing a loved one from pain? Those no’s are hard to bear.

But as I reflect on my experience here, I’m increasingly convinced that God’s answer to Paul is not a no. In addition to my personal experiences, I am also drawn to that conclucion by these stories that surround one of the most famous miracles in all the Scriptures, the feeding of the 5000. No other miracle besides the resurrection of Jesus appears in all four Gospels, so there is likely some fundamental lesson here beyond “Voila! Here is food to eat. Enjoy.” But what manner of lesson is it?

When Mark writes of this event and its aftermath, he often criticizes the crowds and the disciples for “not understanding the lesson of the loaves.” Here, in John, Jesus says much the same thing, that the crowd doesn’t get it either since they came only “because they had a fill of the loaves,” implying they are more interested in the physical than the meaning behind it all. Jesus uses this opportunity however to begin a lengthy discussion about how he is the “bread of life.”

“I am the bread of life,” Jesus boldly proclaims. There’s a lot to unpack in those six words. Like all “I am” statements in John’s Gospel, Jesus invokes the divine name of Yahweh (Hebrew for “I am”), implying rightly that he and God are one and the same. But what about the bread? What does that mean? Well, what is bread to us? A staple food. It is sustenance. Nutrition. That which sustains the biological function of our bodies. That which sustains life. Expanded, “bread” symbolizes all that we need to live. Not just physically like air, water, food, and shelter, but also meaning and purpose, understanding and wisdom. God provides all these things. God gives all these things. God is all these things. God gives life. God is life. And we have all these things through God.

In other words, God gives us all we need to live. Or, to put it yet another way, “my grace is sufficient for you.” We already have all that we require to live, to thrive, to accomplish that which God has set before us.

It becomes a question of perspective. We are so accustomed to operate from a position of lack and scarcity that we often do not see what we truly have and what we truly are. Our society does not help in this matter. Consumerist culture is devoted to convincing us that our lives absolutely require this latest product or new gadget or whatever that is being offered for sale. Without it, our lives will be incomplete, they tell us. Without it, we will not be the talk of the town. Our society thrives on envy and jealousy, two emotions that find their origins in a perception of lack.

But the lesson of the loaves is that we do not lack anything at all, that we have all that we need to do what God has called us to do. This has been the lesson of my hospital stay. Yes, it seems that I lack: I lack health and wellness, strength and stability. But I have your love, care, and support. I have the wonder of medical technology, the advancement of science, and the skill of physicians and nurses. I have time, freedom to rest. And my illness has hardly robbed me of my mind, heart, courage, and passion. I have all that I need.

We may look around us now and see only scarcity. No people. No money. Empty pews. But when I look out over the lot of you, as I hope to do again soon, I see a mighty people, filled with gifts, talents, passion, resources, and compassion for others. I see a people who can make a real difference in people’s lives. You prove the truth of that time and again when I find myself in need. You prove the truth of that in the way you care and support one another. Our scarcity is not what we think it is. God’s grace is sufficient here.

The core of the Gospel is simple. God takes care of us. He is our bread, our whole means and mechanism for life and living. Freed from worrying about such things, we are now able to care for one another and the whole world around us. Most of my sermons consist of a simple plea: take what you do so well for me and one another and apply it more broadly, to the world beyond these walls. Change the world, one soul at a time. You have all that you need to do just that, so go and do it. Let God worry about the rest. There is bread enough to sustain you no matter what you face in life. God is there. God has always been there. God will always be there.

I never doubt that, because I see God in you all the time. All I ask is that you make that real for others. May others see God in you as I do.

Be well. God bless you all. I look forward to returning to work among you again. Amen.

Pastor Allen


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