Rocks, Thorns, and Dirt

Rev. Debbie Cato
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23
Fairfield Community Church
July 23, 2023 

Lord, As we read your word this morning, nourish the soil of hearts so that your words will fall on good soil, and we will bear fruit. We want your word to develop strong roots and grow goodness and courage, hope, and love so that we will live lives that reflect the life that Jesus lived.  Amen.

 

Rocks, Thorns, and Dirt

 

When I read this parable. I think, what farmer would be so careless to waste seed by sowing on a path, or on rocky ground, or among thorns?  Wouldn’t you be careful and make sure that you are sowing seeds on the ground you have carefully prepared for the seeds?  Then I realize I am reading this with a 21^st century brain.  Of course Jesus is describing the challenges of a traditional first century farmer, not a modern farmer of the world I’m living in.  Sometimes we forget that although these parables are absolutely meant for us, we are not the original audience. We are hearing these stories 2,000 years after Jesus first told them.

Unlike a modern farmer today who carefully prepares the soil with just the right pH balance and then injects the seeds into the ground, farmers in Jesus’ time cast the seeds by hand and then plowed the land.  With this scattering approach, it is no surprise that some seeds would fall on hard soil, and other seeds would fall on ground too rocky for good roots, and still other seeds would fall among thorns and weeds.  Those were just the facts of farming and everyone in the crowd listening to Jesus, knew it.[1]

Jesus was also painfully aware that the seeds of his teaching often fell on rock-laden, thorn-strewn ground.  His own disciples lost faith during a storm at sea.  The Pharisees wanted to choke out his message.  His own hometown of Nazareth responded to him like the hard soil responds to the seeds of the farmer when they rejected him.  Jesus does not just tell the parable.  He lives it.[2]

So it should be no surprise to pastors that we face the same problems that Jesus did.  People come to church for lots of different reasons.   We spend  hours each week studying and preparing our sermons with no guarantee and usually no idea how it is received.  It is our job – our calling really, to sow the seeds and then we fret and worry.  Did our words fall on rocky, thorny, or shallow soil or was it well received like the farmers seeds that landed in the good, rich soil?  Will our words be thought about, questioned, digested, and become part of our hearers understanding of  God?  We usually never know. 

I think we’ve experienced the same thing with some of the outreach activities we’ve tried.  Things we’ve decided to do to be out in the community – things we hope will benefit the community.  Initially they are successful, like we’ve planted on good, rich soil.  And then as time goes on, we wonder if the soil was shallow, rocky, or thorny because interest peters out.  But if Jesus experienced this in His ministry, should we expect different in ours?

This parable is also a reminder that we each need to examine ourselves.  Not just once, but from time to time.  How is our own heart and mind? What kind of soil condition are we in?  Are we like the path where God’s word lands but with nothing to hold it or protect it, it just goes away – something like the saying “in one ear and out the other”?  Or perhaps something has happened in our life, and we have become hard, and our heart and mind have become more like rocky, hard ground.  God’s word sprouts quickly when we first hear it but since there’s no  depth to the hard ground, the Word cannot grow roots,  and it withers away. Maybe the thorns in our heart choke the Word and it dies off. 

In Jesus’ parable, an incredible harvest resulted from the seeds sowed in the good soil!  As the parable goes, some a hundredfold, some sixty, and some thirty.  To put into perspective what this means, a sevenfold harvest meant a good year for a farmer.  Tenfold meant true abundance.  A thirtyfold harvest would feed a village for a year and a hundredfold would let the farmer retire to a villa by the Sea of Galilee.  In Jesus’ parable, the seeds sowed in the good soil produced for some a hundredfold, some sixty, and some thirty.[3]  Taking the time to prepare the soil so that it is rich and ready for the seeds to grow and form strong roots pays off.  What abundance!  What a miracle! 

If we have taken care of our hearts and minds; if we have taken the time and done the hard work to work through our traumas and problems and if we have not allowed bitterness and anger to take over, then the soil of our heart and mind will be like the good, rich soil.  God’s word and God’s ways will be able to go deep and form good, strong roots.  His truths will grow and produce abundant fruit in our lives.  That harvest will have an impact on our families, our friends, and the people that are a part of our lives.  It will impact our community.  Not because we are preaching our faith, but because of who we are and how we behave and how we treat people and how we respond to situations and things around us.  Our faith is something we live, and people can see that, without us having to say a word.

I think this passage has a few things for us to take away.  The first of course is staying on top of the condition of our own hearts and minds; our own dirt so to speak.  If we are like the rocks or the hard ground or the thorns, God’s words and ways will not grow deep and become a part of who we are.  We will not bear fruit for Christ.  This must be our first concern.  Taking care of our own dirt. 

Second, I think this passage is a reminder that not all the seeds we plant will grow.  Some will fall on rocky ground and will scorch and wither away.  Some will fall among thorns and weeds and will be choked and die.  But others will fall on good soil.  They will grow deep and form roots and bear fruit.  When we do things in the name of the Lord, we must be willing and ready to risk the seeds that will not grow, in order to reap the seeds that bear fruit.

And finally, we must recognize the encouragement and hope in this passage.  We must believe in God’s abundance.  This passage ends with the miracle of a hundredfold, sixtyfold, and a thirtyfold harvest.  A harvest large enough to retire to a villa by the Sea of Galilee and the “smallest” harvest still large enough to feed a village for a year.  We worship a God of extreme abundance, friends!  We must hold onto this truth and not get discouraged in our work.

Let us continue to go out into our community and extravagantly spread seeds.  Let us not get discouraged when some falls on rocky, hard ground or among thorns and weeds.  Who is to say that God cannot sprout seeds among harsh soil conditions?  Let us believe that there is rich, good soil out there.  That seeds we sow will land in this good soil and grow deep roots and grow and bear fruit.  We may not see it, but that does not mean what we do has not borne fruit.  Let us trust God for the harvest and focus on the condition of our own hearts and our responsibility to sow the seeds.  Amen.

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[1] Feasting on the Word.  Year A, Volume 3.  Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16).  Proper 10.  Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23.  Pastoral Perspective.  P. 236.
[2] Feasting on the Word.  Year A, Volume 3.  Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16).  Proper 10.  Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23.  Pastoral Perspective.  P. 236.
[3] Feasting on the Word.  Year A, Volume 3.  Pentecost and Season After Pentecost 1 (Propers 3-16).  Proper 10.  Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23.  Pastoral Perspective.  P. 236.

Come All Who Are Weary

Rev. Debbie Cato
Matthew 11:28-30
Fairfield Community Church
July 16, 2023  

Holy God.  In the reading of your Word, may we be given light to see. May your word rest in our hearts, minds, and souls and in doing so, transform us into your faithful people. Amen.

 

Come All Who Are Weary

 

I have a confession to make.  Last week I was totally unprepared for a children’s message.  I was not expecting to have children in our service and so I had not given any thought to a children’s message.  I was delightfully surprised to see Melissa and Eli, and Clara and Henry, but I had no idea what I was going to d0.  So I did the first thing that came to my mind.

I talked about nature and when I had driven from the Valley to Fairfield and experienced the  beauty of the fields. I talked about that because it was fresh on my mind.  But it was what I was going to use this week in this sermon.  So you are going to hear it again – in the grown-up sermon!  I ask for your forgiveness and your tolerance, but here I go!

A couple of weeks ago I was driving home from the Valley, and I was just mesmerized by the beauty all around me.  The green of the rolling fields, the brown wheat fields that were ripening, (is that the right word?!) and the gorgeous yellow canola fields surrounding me as I drove down 27.  I marveled at how the colors contrasted and also blended together. The sky was bright blue, the sun was out, and I was in my air-conditioned car. I felt so at peace, and I was awed as I thought about the beauty and creativity of God’s creation.

Lately, I had been feeling so weary.  A weariness deep in my soul.  I was weary of being sick.  Weary of having no energy.  Weary of not being able to do what I want to be able to do.  And at that moment, driving home on 27 like I do so many times, I realized I was at peace in a way I hadn’t felt for a long time.  And this verse that I knew I would be preaching on in a few weeks came to mind.  “Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”  I was aware that this peace I was feeling came from Christ.  My circumstances had not changed.  My health was what it was.  My energy was still low.  I still could not do all the things I wanted to do.  But in the midst of it all, I was at peace – a deep peace, a peace deep in my soul.  Noticing the beauty of my surroundings and recognizing that it all came from God, had brought me a peace and a restful spirit that could only come from Christ. I felt very close to God at that moment.

“Come to me all who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  What beautiful words spoken by Jesus to each of us. This passage almost makes me cry. Who among us does not carry heavy burdens?  Who of us do not get weary?  A weariness deep in your soul?  Whether it’s health like me, or relationships or finances or employment or big decisions you are facing or just life in general, sometimes it all gets really heavy. It weighs you down. It makes you weary. It’s hard to believe you could feel peace and restfulness in the midst of these kinds of heavy burdens. And honestly, I don’t think we can.  Not on our own.  But Jesus promises that we can.  We can find it in Him.  Jesus Himself will give us rest for our souls.  A rest that is deep and pure. A rest that comes from Christ.

The offer of a lighter burden is not offered to those of us that think we can do it all on our own. It is offered to the weary and the burdened.  It is offered to those who recognize that they just can’t make it on their own, no matter how hard they try.  It is offered to those who long to be delivered from forces too terrible to handle or manage.  It comes from the gentleness, humility, and solace of Jesus, whose burden, as it turns out, is the only one light and restful enough for us to bear.[1]

Notice that Jesus does not say he will take our burdens away.  He does not say he will solve our problems.  No where does he say, “Come to me and you won’t have anymore burdens.”  No.  He says, “Come to me and I will give you rest.”  He’s saying, “I know you carrying burdens that are heavy and draining.  I know life is hard.  But I can give you rest for your soul.  I can give you a deep rest so that you can continue on;  so you can make it.”  

That day in my car, while I was driving home from the Valley, I began praying for people like I so often do.  But I prayed differently that day.  I prayed for Brook, knowing how weary she must be from her cancer journey and now radiation treatments.  I prayed that while she lays on that radiation table, she might feel the deep rest in her soul that only comes from Christ.  That she would find peace deep within her despite her difficult journey.  I prayed for the family of the young man who Marci told me  had drowned.  I prayed that in the throes of their deep -  seated grief, they would find rest and peace deep in their souls from Christ.  I prayed for Cindy Davidson,  I thanked God that despite her pain and struggles with her back, that Cindy knows the peace that comes only from Christ. I can sense that every time I talk with her. And then I prayed for each of you.  One by one I prayed that each of you could feel the kind of incredible restfulness and peace that I was feeling deep in your own soul.  I prayed for you …  

You see it’s available to all of us.  It’s available when we are at our worst.  When we are at the end of our rope.  When we are thoroughly exhausted and we feel like we can’t take it anymore.  Christ is there offering us rest for our souls.  “Come to me all who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”   Amen.

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[1] Debie Thomas.  A Lighter Burden.  June 28, 2020.  https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2678-a-lighter-burden.                          

Where Do We Go From Here?

Rev. Debbie Cato

Ruth 1:1-22/Acts 10
Fairfield Community Church
July 2, 2023 

Holy God, we know that you are always speaking— through strangers and friends, through sunrise and sunset, through random acts of kindness and feelings that stir hope in us. We know that you speak through dreams and prayer, through still, small voices and bursts of overwhelming joy. We know that you are always speaking, but we also know that we are inclined to miss it. Settle our spirits now to fully hear your word. We want to be part of the conversation. Gratefully we pray, Amen.

Where Do We Go From Here?

 

This is the last Sunday we will be asking questions around the idea of “I’ve been meaning to ask…”  So far, we’ve asked, “Where are you from?”, “Where do you hurt?”, and “What do you need?”.  These are all questions that help us go deeper in our relationships.  They help us be authentic with one another.  They help us really get to know one another.  Help us be there for one another. Whatever that might look like.

Today, this final Sunday in this series, we ask the question “Where do we go from here?”  Where do we go from here?  This question is a prompt for us to think about what we are going to do with what we’ve learned from this sermon series.  Are we just going to walk away without learning anything?  Without being changed?  Or have we learned something that is going to make our interactions and our relationships different than before we thought about these questions?  Of course the hope is that we keep cultivating curiosity, we keep asking questions, we continue to have conversations, and we keep seeking connection in order to humanize and care for each other. Ultimately, this final question, “Where do we go from here” invites us to foster hope and imagination.[1]

After the disruption the loss of their loved ones causes in their lives, Ruth and Naomi create a new covenant with each other, choosing to be in a relationship across their religious, cultural, and generational divides. As women, they build power together in a system where they have little power, especially as widows.[2]

Cornelius, a pious Roman centurion and Gentile, and Peter, a Jew, are brought together through visions they each receive. Peter and Cornelius meet face-to-face and Peter says: “I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another.” Through their courageous conversation, their narrow perceptions of others expand, the Spirit descends upon them, and they share in community and hospitality.[3] Faith in Christ is opened up to a whole new culture – the Gentiles.

Our first story today is a lesson in grief, grace, and growing together. While a few verses mention the death of a husband and two sons, there are likely thousands of unwritten pages of pain, emotion, grief, and loss in the lives of Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah that we will never know.[4] There always is when there’s grief and trauma.  From the outside we only know a little bit of the pain and suffering.  We never know the full extent.  The whole story.

Naomi carried an additional burden, knowing her daughter-in-laws would have to navigate as single women within a patriarchal society. Women didn’t have a lot going for them during this time in history.  Naomi’s natural response to the pain she is experiencing is one of fear, anger, and isolation. One daughter-in-law respects Naomi’s wishes and returns to her own family. The other daughter-in-law, Ruth, does not. Ruth’s response echoes the unending and far-reaching love of God. Ruth’s response is not one of fight or flight, but is rooted and grounded in being bound to another. In the face of loss, these family ties are deepened through a spiritual bond of connection, commitment, and community. Ruth is willing to live, worship, work, advocate, walk alongside, and find her earthly resting place with Naomi from this day forward.[5] 

Both these women were hurting but Ruth knew that Naomi was hurting more.  She had lost her husband and two sons.   Ruth knew that Naomi needed her, but she knew that she also needed Naomi.  Out of their crisis, develops a relationship between these two women that is both heart-warming and beneficial to them both. The Book of Ruth is a short book and I encourage you to read it and see how things work out for them. Find out how the question “Where do we go from here?” works out for them.

The story of Peter and Cornelius is completely different than the story of Naomi and Ruth.  It isn’t centered around a crisis of grief and loss.  But there is a crisis.  A crisis of belief and tradition. 

As a devout Jew, Peter had been raised to follow spiritual and ritualistic laws passed down from generation to generation. These rules were established to set apart the people of God. The rules were set to create space and rhythm around work, worship, and daily living.

And then there was Jesus. Peter followed Jesus in his earthly ministry. Jesus was known to take rules and redefine what it meant to embody those rules. Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Jesus dined with tax collectors and sex workers. He touched the untouchable. Jesus spent time with the poor and those on the bottom of the social scale.  Peter was a first-hand witness to Christ’s ministry of inclusion and the incarnational ministry of drawing the circle wide.

In Acts, we find Peter established as the pioneer of the first church. Peter was a rule follower, not perfect, but passionate about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Passionate rule followers must participate in the spiritual practice of worshiping the One who makes the rules and not the rules in and of themselves.

I’m a rule follower.  Some of you may not believe that because I do like to push the envelope.  I do like to push things as far as I can.  But if there’s a rule, I like to follow it.  After all, it’s a rule!  So, I can imagine Peter’s reaction to his vision of a sheet filled with ritualistically unclean foods. Foods he had been taught his whole life he should not eat. I can imagine Peter’s thought process of being asked to kill and now eat these unclean things. I can only imagine the struggle of digesting this divine message declaring, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.[6]

Peter may not have even known that the question “Where do we go from here?” was hanging there before him.  But God wanted to teach him that there were no barriers to anyone learning about Him and being brought into the community of faith.  The prior thinking that Jews and Gentiles could not eat together or socialize together was debunk.  Everyone was welcome into the Kingdom of God, and something as small as food would not stand in the way.

What an eye opener! Where do we go from here? Thanks be to God that there is a wideness in God’s mercy. There is hope for the faithful rule follower. God will draw the circle wider to include everyone to receive God’s message of grace, justice, and love. God will open our eyes, show us what is in our sheet, and give us new ways to proclaim the lifesaving, world-changing, transformative power of the gospel of Jesus Christ to all.[7]

Who knows if either Ruth or Peter asked themselves “Where do I go from here?”  Yet that was essentially the question they both answered as they responded to the situation they faced.  They were both guided by God in how they responded. 

And I guess so are we!  Assuming we are open to recognizing God’s presence in our life and His movement in how we respond to the situations around us – particularly when we are prayerful and seek his help.  When we have asked him to prompt us to ask mindful questions to deepen our relationships and step into people’s lives, he will certainly direct us “where to go from here,”  just like He did for Ruth and Peter.

Let’s be curious, creative, and caring people who move forward with intention and purpose.  Let’s be people who make a difference in the lives of others.  Let’s continue to ask questions like “where do you hurt?”  What do you need?” and Where do I go from here?”  Amen.

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[1] Sanctified Art.  Theme Connections. “Where Do We Go From Here.”
[2] Sanctified Art.  Theme Connections. “Where Do We Go From Here.”
[3] Sanctified Art.  Theme Connections. “Where Do We Go From Here.”
[4] Sanctified Art “Where Do We Go From Here.” Rev. Aisha Brooks-Johnson (Brooks-Lytle).  Commentary Ruth 1:1-22.
[5] Sanctified Art “Where Do We Go From Here.” Rev. Aisha Brooks-Johnson (Brooks-Lytle).  Commentary Ruth 1:1-22.
[6]   Sanctified Art “Where Do We Go From Here.” Rev. Aisha Brooks-Johnson (Brooks-Lytle).  Commentary Acts 10
[7] Sanctified Art “Where Do We Go From Here.” Rev. Aisha Brooks-Johnson (Brooks-Lytle).  Commentary Acts 10

What Do You Need?

Rev. Debbie Cato
Job 2:11-13/2 Timothy 4:9-18
Fairfield Community Church
June 25, 2023 

God of long winters and longer summers, in the words of Paul, do your best to come to us quickly. Come to us with loud praise and joy, or appear to us in a still, small voice. Come to us through friends, or come to us through strangers. Come to us in this text and in this hour of worship, and come to us quickly if you can. We are seeking you. We are always seeking you. With grateful hearts cracked open by love, we pray. Amen.

What Do You Need?

 

This is week three of our series “I’ve been meaning to ask…”  We started with “Where are you from?” and we discovered that although we are all from different places geographically and we are different in the things we believe, the things we enjoy, our personalities are unique, and the way we look is unique, we have something very important in common.  We all come from God.  God created us each from the dust and God breathed His own breath into us that began our life.  Think about that.  Think of how sacred that makes each of us.  We each came from God.  We are each a beloved child of God.  We all came from the same place.

Then last week we asked, “Where do you hurt?”  We recognized and admitted that we have each suffered pain.  Physical pain, emotional pain, and mental pain.  None of us are exempt from pain and suffering in our lives.  For authentic relationships, we need to be able to share our pain with others and we need to be comfortable hearing about the pain of others.  We need to be able to acknowledge it.  Respect it.  Not solve it.  Not give advice.  But listen and acknowledge.

Today we are asking the question “What do you need?”  What do you need? We all have needs and we need each other. I’ve certainly learned that this year.  We each have unique needs; we can’t assume to know what is best for others. 
Sometimes the trauma is so great that it’s hard to even know what we need.

In Job, we have a person who has suffered extreme trauma—the trauma of losing his livelihood – 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen, and 500 donkeys - his present and future wellbeing are very much in question. Job has also seen all of his children – 7 sons and 3 daughters - die a sudden, unexpected death. Job has suffered physical pain and discomfort.  He is covered in sores from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.  Pain that must have seeped deep into his bones. Everything about Job’s life is gone. This is very real trauma.[1]

In the midst of Job’s afflictions, three of his friends promptly leave their own homes and come to him. They tear their garments, weep loudly, and sit with him for seven days, saying nothing. Their response is the ministry of presence, of true solidarity, of seeing his excruciating pain and joining him there.[2] In silence.  Just being present.

Sometimes there is nothing to say.  Nothing to do.  But being there; being present, is powerful.  It speaks volumes.  It says I care, and I am here in the midst of your crisis with you.  You are not alone.

Beaten and imprisoned, Paul writes to Timothy with a simple request: “Come quickly.” He lists those who abandoned him, but says, “I hope that God doesn’t hold it against them!” In his greatest moment of need, Paul doesn’t need revenge, but instead asks for companionship. In essence, this is what we all need—for someone to come quickly, to gather the items we want, and to simply show up.[3]

While Job asked for nothing, Paul is active. He has requests. He has needs and he is making them known. “What do you need?” This is such a direct and vulnerable thing to ask. It isn’t a limiting question like, “Would you like me to make you a casserole?” It is open-ended, and when we offer this question to another, we do not know how they will respond.

Paul is in his 2^nd imprisonment in Rome.  He responds with needs, wants, and a desire for justice. The list is long, both in things that Paul wants brought to him,  and in wrongs he needs to name.

Paul offers us a moment of intense humility as he opens himself up to share what he needs. It’s hard to ask for help. It’s hard to say – “this is what I need.”  The grievances, the stuff—all of it is important, and offering space for folks to respond openly and honestly about what they need is such a sacred act. We may eventually move to a place where we talk about what we can and cannot provide, but first we must trust the person to know what they need. We can respond to the needs they name with additions and deletions and clarifications, helping them really target the need that caused the specific request to arise.  But, the first step is hearing—really hearing—what someone's needs are and discerning how we might respond.[4]

Asking the questions, “What do you need?” is risky.  You don’t know what the response will be.  The person may say  “I don’t need anything.”  And you need to be ready to accept that.  You must respect their request.  Even when you want to do something so badly.  “Nothing” is a legitimate response.  A request really.  You can ask again later, after more time has passed.  But do not continually pester.  Give them space.  Honor their needs. Remember, God is always with them.

The response may be, just be with me.  You need to be ready to just be present.  To just be there.  In silence like Job’s friends.  Let the hurting person lead.  They’ll talk if they want conversation.  They’ll eat if they  want to eat.  Your role is to just be present.  To be there with them.  To stay out of their way.  This can be hard to do but it may be the most important thing you can do.  The ministry of presence is sacred and more important to the person who is struggling than you can imagine.

Their response may be like Paul’s.  A list of things they need.  You may or may not be able to meet those needs.  Be honest.  Perhaps you know other people that could help; that could meet those needs.  Maintain your own boundaries of what you can and cannot do and don’t feel guilty about it.

Once we understand that we all come from God.  That we all are beloved children of God, it makes asking the questions, “where do you hurt” and “what do you need” more important.  They are both risky questions because we don’t know what the answers will be.  We need to be ready for whatever those answers might be.  No judgement; no questions.  They are what they are.  We need to be ready to sit with them and to provide what they say they need or find someone who can. But being able to ask these questions, and have these questions asked of us, deepens our relationships.  It makes us more authentic and real with one another.  It gives us an opportunity to be Christ in the life of one another.

“What do you need?”  May we each be in the position to ask this question and be there for someone.  Amen.

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[1] Sanctified Art.  Commentary.  “What Do You Need?” Rev. Remington Johnson
[2] Sanctified Art.  “What Do You Need?”  Theme Connection.
[3] Sanctified Art.  “What Do You Need?”  Theme Connection.
[4] Sanctified Art.  Commentary.  “What Do You Need?” Rev. Remington Johnson

Where Do You Hurt?

Rev. Debbie Cato
1 Samuel 1:1-18/Mark 5:21-43
Fairfield Community Church
June 18, 2023 

Holy God,  Today we will read stories of those who have known hurt — people who have carried shame,  who have lived with grief and chronic illness, who have felt alone and ignored, who have seen the depths of suffering.  As we listen, we will be reminded of  the hurt we have carried during these fragile days — memories and regrets co-mingling in our chests.  And as we listen, we will be reminded that our neighbors, our siblings in faith,  also come to this space carrying burdens. So dust off our ears and stretch open the canvases of our hearts so that in our pain, we might lean into one another as we lean into you. Pull us close. We are listening. Amen.

 

Where Do You Hurt?

 

Today is the 2nd week in our sermon series “I’ve Been Meaning to Ask …”  Last week we asked, “Where are you from?” Today our question is:  “Where Do You Hurt?”  Where do you hurt?

Both of our scripture passages today are about people  in pain.  Hannah is in deep emotional and mental pain, the bleeding woman (who doesn’t even have a name) is in physical pain, and Jairus is in emotional distress, his daughter is dying.

This week’s question implies that all of us have known pain and suffering. I would suggest that we have all known both physical pain and suffering and emotional and mental pain and suffering.  We have been hurt, disappointed, misunderstood, scared, grieved, and faced the unknown.  In order to encourage connection, in order to deepen our relationships with one another, we must get curious about the pain others carry and the pain we ourselves carry. Bearing witness to each other’s pain helps us foster compassion.[1]

In Hannah, I see a woman who has been mocked, shamed, diminished, and ignored. It’s important that we acknowledge and recognize that Hannah is whole just as she is. Her pain is rooted in not being seen. She refuses to be silenced. In the presence of her pain, she grits her teeth, pours her heart out before God, and insists that we see her. She cries out to God, “Just look at my pain and remember me!”[2]  Just look at my pain and remember me.  What courage that took for her to bear herself.  What strength. It is in the moment her pain is acknowledged and blessed that she finds peace.

We need to ask ourselves, whose pain have I mocked? Whose pain have I questioned? Whose pain have I dismissed?  We need to remember when we were Hannah and look for who is screaming in our midst. Where does it hurt? When we ask this question, we must remember to also say: “I see you.”[3]  “I hear you.”

 Every time I read the story of the bleeding woman it makes me angry.  It infuriates me that she is considered unclean because of her medical condition.  It makes me angry – and it makes me sad, that she felt so low, so beneath everyone because of a medical condition that was beyond her control, that she had to “sneak” a touch of the bottom of Jesus’ robe.

 Yet, I am so inspired by her bravery. Think of the courage it took this woman to join the crowd; to get close enough to Jesus to touch his robe.  God calls her to demand the care she needs and the dignity she deserves. The power of her presence is palpable. The physical placement of the woman’s hand among the feet of the crowd exhibits her power—the power of her presence. Can you imagine her stretching out her hand?  Just catching the edge of his robe?  Jesus knew immediately that she had touched him. God’s call, her demand for this miracle, and her belief in it, made it possible.[4] She is healed, Jesus says, by her faith.

Who, by their presence, is demanding us to act on our call from God? What is our role as a disciple in this time of global pain? Are we stepping into our role with gusto? Who needs you to ask, “Where does it hurt?”[5]

 How many of us are hurting in silence, hiding our pain because we believe it to be shameful? Maybe we have been taught that certain problems are not for polite company, and we have learned the painful, practiced art of smiling through everything. Maybe our pain has been invalidated or ignored so many times that we begin to believe there truly is something wrong about our feelings or experiences. Maybe we’ve been told to “get over it.”  Maybe it feels easier to bury our emotions for fear of how they will be perceived.

In the book of Samuel, Hannah has been belittled, patronized, and provoked for her infertility—a bodily condition over which she has no control. Some of us, like Hannah, may be all too familiar with the particular grief of infertility. Others of us carry the secret sufferings of child loss, postpartum depression, sickness, job loss, economic insecurity, or addiction. What would we say if someone stopped to ask us, “Where does it hurt?” and then acknowledged the validity of our honest answers? Would we, like Hannah, be able to share our pain with a humble and dignified honesty that trusts that there is no “right” or “proper” way to feel? Would such honesty with our own hurts and disappointments allow us to be more present to others’ problems?[6] Would it bring us peace?

In Mark, we find Jesus in the midst of human life—and all its hurting. He is in the swarm of the crowd with sweaty human bodies and the scent of a woman’s blood. Jesus stops and listens to this long-hurting woman—as if pain were not so shameful but something we all experience. Jesus’ healing disrupts the injustice of a woman who has been rejected and labeled impure for her condition.[7]   He returns her dignity and self-respect to her.

Then, Jesus enters a stagnant, grief-filled room at Jairus’s house, no doubt smelling of sickness and death. He reaches out and touches the body of a girl already thought dead. With the girl, Jesus disrupts death itself.[8]

How might we allow Jesus to disrupt us—enabling us to acknowledge others’ pain so that we may seek life together? First, we must be willing to acknowledge and share our own pain – whatever it might be.  This is the beginning of healing.  Then, we must put ourselves in the uncomfortable places where human beings live, breathe, and hurt—because those are the places where we will also find Jesus.  We must be willing to ask and to listen and to say, “I see you.”  “I hear you.” “I care.” 

 I’d like to close with a poem by Rev. Sarah Speed, one of the pastors who is a part of Sanctified Art.

 

On my hardest days,
I believe that God is there - 
standing in the rain with me,
holding me up and sharing in my grief.

No matter where I go – in joy or loss, in pain or in love,
in heartaches or in gratitude – I believe that God is there,
leaning in,  noticing where it hurts, and carrying me through it.

 And so, I believe we are called to care for each other as God cares for us.

 On your best days in the sun
and on your worst days in the rain,
I will do my best to be there for you too.
Amen.

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[1] SANCTIFIED ART I'VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK SERMON PLANNING GUIDE
[2] Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity.  Sanctified Art.  “I’ve Been Meaning to Ask … Where Does It Hurt?”
[3] Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity.  Sanctified Art.  “I’ve Been Meaning to Ask … Where Does It Hurt?”
[4] Hannah Garrity.  Sanctified Art.  “I’ve Been Meaning to Ask … Where Does It Hurt?”
[5] Hannah Garrity.  Sanctified Art.  “I’ve Been Meaning to Ask … Where Does It Hurt?”
[6] Rev. Brittany Fiscus-van Rossum.   Sanctified Art. Commentary.  1 Samuel 1:1-18.  “Where Does It Hurt?”
[7] Rev. Brittany Fiscus-van Rossum.   Sanctified Art. Commentary.  Mark 5:21-43.  “Where Does It Hurt?”
[8] Rev. Brittany Fiscus-van Rossum.   Sanctified Art. Commentary.  Mark 5:21-43.  “Where Does It Hurt?”