Sermon for Proper 23 B (RCL), offered by Nathan Ferrell at HS, Bellmawr & St. Luke’s, Westville
Texts: Job 23:1-9,16-17; Psalm 22; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31
“Let us, therefore, approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16).
My dear friends in Christ: God is calling us to live lives of holy boldness. God desires to bless our lives with grace – grace which precedes and which follows us. Grace that will transform us so that our lives naturally overflow with good works: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:22-23).
Boldness for the sake of the gospel is not something for which we Episcopalians are quite well-known. Beauty in liturgy, prudence and balance and order perhaps. We are well-known for these qualities, perhaps, but not for boldness. And I understand. The Christian life is a marathon rather than a sprint, and we need a steady, healthy diet of continual grace to sustain us over the long haul. Boldness seems more like a Red Bull: a quick jolt of energy which usually does not last for very long.
Someone once sent an anonymous letter to their local newspaper complaining about the lack of energy he received from church. “I’ve gone to church for 35 years,” he wrote, “and have heard something like three thousand sermons. But for the life of me, I can’t remember a single one of them. So I’ve concluded that I’m wasting my time, as are the preachers for even bothering to deliver sermons at all.”
This letter began a real controversy back-and-forth on the op-ed page of the paper. It continued for a few weeks until another letter came in which settled the matter. That letter stated: “I’ve been married for 35 years. In that time my wife has cooked some thirty-two thousand meals for us. But for the life of me, I can hardly remember a single one of them. I do know, however, that they all nourished me and gave me the strength I needed to do my work each day. If it weren’t for all of those meals, then I would be dead today!”
The grace that God gives to us is like those 32,000 meals. It’s hard to be excited about a steady diet of healthy food, until we have a chance to look back and see how, in each time of need, God’s grace has been there for us, reliable and constant. Because of our experience of the faithfulness of God, it is right for us to step out with boldness and with love for the sake of the Gospel.
The Letter to the Hebrews states with great conviction that “the word that God speaks is living and active…it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Right away, the Gospel of Mark gives us a clear and direct example of this very truth. Our Lord meets the rich, young ruler along the road. An aristocratic, young Jewish man who seemed intent upon keeping the law, following the commandments, and yet who – it seems – was afraid of truly loving God.
“You lack one thing.”
Do you know the kind of reckless abandon that overcomes the one who falls suddenly in love? Can you remember it, perhaps, from some point in your own life? When you would drive a thousand miles or stay up all night every night or spend every last dime just to be with your love, to woo your love?
Early in the 20th century, William Malcolm MacGregor, a great Scottish preacher and professor, spoke about the rich young ruler in one of his sermons. I love these words! They are one of my favorite quotes. I have shared them with you before, but here they are again once more, quite apropos to our meditation here today:
“Jesus did love a man who was able, sometimes, to be reckless. He did not care for the rulers as a class, but when one of them forgot his dignity and ran after a peasant teacher and fell on the road at His feet, we read that ‘Jesus, seeing him, loved him.’ He did not choose for His disciples discreet and futile persons, but a man whose temper was not always under control, and whose tongue was rough when has was roused, and another who might have been a saint, but his life got twisted and he betrayed his Lord. He saw a widow flinging into the treasury all that she had, which no doubt was a very foolish action, but it stirred his heart with gladness to see somebody venturing herself simply upon God. [Jesus] wanted life in men, energy, impulse; and in His Church He has often found nothing but a certain tame decorum, of which even He can make little.”
–William Malcolm MacGregor, great 20th century Scottish preacher and professor
Life, energy, impulse. God longs to see this kind of energetic action and reckless abandon in us. Yes, I know that this kind of enthusiasm is difficult to maintain over the long haul of life. But the grace of God continually refreshes our hearts, if we are open to it.
The Letter to the Hebrews calls us to continue on with this kind of boldness: “Let us hold fast to our confession.” Cling to it, the text says, don’t ever let go of our confession, our declaration of faith. It is, in fact, our declaration of independence.
2 Timothy 1:7 speaks to us clearly on the matter: “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.”
I know it doesn’t feel this way to you now, but the truth is, my friends, that when we stand in just a few minutes and say the Nicene Creed together, it is a radical thing that we are doing. I know it feels old and stale and boring. But in fact, we are declaring our allegiance, our loyalty, our commitment to this God who speaks through the life and death of Jesus of Nazareth.
Remember: folks died for this creed. Saints watched while their houses were being burned down, while their families were tortured for this creed! It is a treasure, and it means something profound. It is, in fact, a call to bold action.
There’s a story about the Coast Guard unit stationed down at Cape May. One night a tropical storm came in from the Atlantic and a ship was breaking apart just off of the coast. The Coast Guard commander woke the men under his command and told them to get ready to go out to sea. They were going out to rescue the crew in danger. One of the young recruits shot back incredulously, “But, Captain! If we go out there, we may never come back!”
The Captain answered, with full command and conviction, “Son, you don’t have to come back. You have to go out.”
Being a Christian means that we bet our lives on the truth of God’s word; that we risk our convenience, our comforts, our security, and at times even our safety, in order to go out into the unknown, to launch out into the dark stormy waters where the need is greatest.
The rich young ruler had it all, or so he thought. But he was so comfortable, so safe, so tame. He was insulated from the needs of the world around him. Our Lord Jesus loved him and longed for him to be fully alive. And the only way to do that – for him and for us – is to risk, and to love.
Give your safety away, Jesus told him, to those who need it more. Throw yourself over the edge. Abandon yourself to the love of God. Fall in love with God.
My friends, we can do the same! But above all else, we must not continue on with a bland, tame decorum of politeness, which can never be used in the transformation of human lives. Our Lord calls us to holy boldness, to love others in the power of the Holy Spirit, to speak the living Word of God to those who are hopeless and lost. By the grace of God, we will do this together, as a community of holy boldness and love. Amen.
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