"SWEET SURRENDER"
7th Sunday of Pentecost Ephesians 1 : 3 - 14
It's summer, and I love the long days, cool nights and colorful sunsets. I also enjoy the less hectic pace at church – though you wouldn't know it from my schedule the past few weeks! We traveled to Seattle for Fathers’ Day, and then, hurried back in enough time to close on our new home, clean out the apartment and move. Then, I took a week of “vacation” to receive all the furniture, boxes and piano we had been storing in Vancouver, and help a couple of local guys transport the rest of our things from The Illahee to River Point. But, it's summer; some are on vacation; others are staying home: working in their yards or simply enjoying the sunshine. In any case, I am quite happy to be here, together with you, for another summer at the beach!
This Ephesians text reminds me of a game I have played many of the summers of my life. Have you ever played Capture the Flag? Now, I played Capture the Flag, most recently, at Camp Magruder a Methodist summer camp at Rockaway Beach where I was a counselor and dean for almost 10 summers. It's a game where there are two teams and two flags. Each team hides the flag in the field (or woods) and, typically, they place guards around it. The guards protect the flag with their lives. If found, they must surrender the flag or run for their lives and not get tagged. Of course, most the time the guards run away with the flag, but every now and again, they realize how futile their flight would be and they surrender there on the spot.
The Apostle, Paul, letter writer to the Ephesians, has surrendered to a life in Jesus Christ and he encourages the same kind of surrender for the people at Ephesus. Paul is swept away by the wonder and grace experienced in Christ. He reminds us of an earnest, divinity “student” coming to grips with his own theology and with his own understanding and celebration of God’s love. Paul writes of believers having access to the heavenly places, God's work of “election” and revelation, and about how all are destined for grace and divine inheritance and the promise of the Holy Spirit in our lives – and all of this in just the first chapter!
Except for the fact that historians and scholars believe most of his letter-writing was from jail, I actually envy Paul! His convictions are solid and he’s so confident! He’s a man with a mission and a message. Whenever he opens his mouth, he knows everyone will listen. Paul surrenders his whole being, and he holds nothing back.
For us 21st century Christians, surrender is a dirty word. To us, it can mean giving in, or giving up, “waving the white flag” and coming out with our hands up in the air. For many of us North American “patriots,” surrender can even mean defeat, and with that defeat – we think – comes shame. Surrender is not about being powerful, in control, number one, or even a winner. Surrender does not appear in our American vocabulary very much. And even when it comes to religion or trusting completely in God, many of us cringe at the thought of giving up, or giving in, without a fight.
The idea of surrender to God in Christ doesn't sit well with good Presbyterians and other thoughtful people. We want a logical, thinking, “reasonable” faith. It is often very difficult for us to, simply, trust and believe either whatever we read or have been told; surrender our need for reasoned thought and thoughtful reason. In fact, one of the tenets of our denomination is that everyone is invited to come to God out of his or her own study, understanding and intellectual comprehension of what it means for God to be present in our lives. So… the first question, for a reasoning Christian, is always, "To what (or to whom) do I surrender?"
We have to be careful what we surrender to. There are many false gods: the idols of the marketplace, the idols of power and politics, the idols of safety and security = and they are all competing for our loyalty. Primetime television is full of images and gimmicks targeting our material surrender: irresponsible pleasure, excessive consumption, misleading missions, actors and athletes as idols, fast moneymaking schemes – all asking us to surrender to them. The litmus test is: does your pursuit make you more compassionate, more humble, more inclusive, more caring, more just? Does that thing you are willing to surrender yourself to… expand or contract your circle of love? Truly divine surrender broadens one’s witness and one’s influence.
The prophet Jeremiah, who had a lot of trouble surrendering to the call of God, suggested a good guideline: “The law of God is one that is written on the heart.” What that might mean for us is that we give ourselves up to that ultimate concern that fulfills every aspect of our being: heart, mind and spirit. We bring it all to God. A complete relationship: mind, spirit and heart. That is what I long to have in God.
However, when we enter a relationship with God, we make ourselves vulnerable. We risk letting go and becoming open to surrendering parts of ourselves we don't want to give up. Maybe it's our reasonable minds. Maybe we have been out of the raft and felt the cold and rage of the river before. Maybe our heart has been broken before. Perhaps our bodies have been bruised or no longer are working well. And, of course, many of us are downright skeptical about this whole spirituality thing.
How shall we ever enter the river with God? How can we take that leap of faith, and let go of our skepticism, our need for control, and our lack of trust – to begin to move in ways that deepen our faith in God; in God’s people and God’s Spirit?
I spoke with someone last week, who literally asked me that question. "How can I trust in God – and more, how can I trust myself in the search for God? Is the church a safe place for me… or for God? Is THIS church a place where I can find God?"
People are wary of aligning themselves with communities of faith. “Well, what if my church makes a decision I don't like? What if I can't support organizations that embrace issues like this or raise money for projects like that? I may have to leave.” Or… “Why even go to church? I can't take the hypocrisy, the doctrine, the sexism, racism, constant fundraising, lousy preaching, regular ritual, or any other thing.”
There are always good reasons not to be a part of a church. For some, the Sunday Oregonian and a tall latte would be one, on this beautiful Sunday morning in July. But the wrong reason to leave a church (or not join one) is because you can’t find a community of faith that agrees on everything: from what kind of music we should sing, to where we stand on immigration or rebuilding Puerto Rico – then I have the perfect excuse not to belong to any community that has more than one member – me.
There is no perfect church. There is no “perfect” complete, human understanding of God. There is no perfect belief system… and there is no perfect way of being a Christian. If you decide to be part of a community of faith, you get it all. Barbara Brown Taylor says that if you seek God and belong to a community called church, "You get a Bible that says God helped Joshua exterminate whole tribes of people and a letter to the Ephesians that says we, of all people, are God’s chosen people. But, at the same time, you also get the parable of the prodigal and the 23rd Psalm."
To my mind, when you join a community, you get to eat with people you wouldn't otherwise meet, you get to celebrate the births, marriages and deaths of people you wouldn't otherwise have the chance to care about. You get to look across the aisle and extend yourself to someone you never met before and might never meet again. You get to sit each Sunday and ponder your relationships and your own spiritual growth. You get to watch children grow up, you get to give your money to good causes, sit in meetings and grapple with our future – just like so many have done before you.
Whenever people are “in community,” we get diversity of opinion, belief, practice, and understanding of what it means to be a part of something bigger than themselves.
Sometimes things will happen that hurt or offend. Some things are worth talking over until we all can agree, while other things don’t require absolute agreement and are moved by the Spirit (and a majority). Still other things we should probably leave alone for a while… and visit them later. We need each other in order to be encouraged when we are ill, lonely, or anxious. We need each other in order to be saved from our own self-righteousness. We need each other to help us be shaped by God for the good of the world. We need each other in order to become Christ’s “body;” the fleshy, fruity, fulfilling (but messy) Body of Christ: in the world, and in this place.
I recall that, annually in July, I would review all the rules and guidelines for fun, healthy, and safe participation at the church-sponsored, youth Summer Camps at the Beach. It hasn’t been just six months now since we’ve experienced yet another tide-related pair of tragedies on the Long Beach Peninsula. Unsuspecting clammers – even healthy, seasoned swimmers can be caught in the undertow of North Coast currents caused by the strong winds and water that gets trapped next to the shore, causing it to pile up, and then, rush out. The waves can crash down and the currents take you away in an instant. And the force of the thundering surf can be so powerful that you are unable to get above the tide to the surface for a breath. In minutes, you can be in trouble – just a few feet from shore.
Now if you are ever caught in a strong undertow: there are two things you can do. If you are a good swimmer, it is recommended that you swim parallel to the shore with the current. Or, you can let the tide carry you out beyond the onshore current by getting on your back… and placing your feet up and your arms over your head. Basically, in this position, you will let the tide carry you out to the breakers, where hopefully it will release you as the water spreads out and harmful waves disappear.
This is like being a person who is on the journey of faith and who is struggling to find a home in or relationship with God. When we resist or put up a fight, there is a chance we will go under and be trapped – spiritually. Our resistance and need to have everything the way we want it is all about us and our desire to be in control.
But, we have to remember, when it comes to God and the matters of life – we are not in control! The winds and the waters of life can be calm and quiet one day and toss us around the next. We can resist, put up a fight and risk going under. Or, we can surrender, align ourselves with the shoreline and go with the flow; swimming with the current. Or… we can let the tide carry us: discovering how to stay afloat; learning how to surrender ourselves: in life and, somehow in the process, to God.
I have never enjoyed surrendering. I have been a good resister to the big waves of life. I have learned well how to put up a good fight and, a couple of times, I have almost drowned. But I have also had the experience of learning how to float – and trusting in friends and family to carry me. Much of this learning has come through living life in community, within a family of faith: being part of the Body of Christ.
As we proceed into our future, in a time when the denomination is struggling with waning numbers and divisive issues – a time when we are wrestling with all that it means to be a welcoming and hospitable church in the 21st century – I think, we need to learn a little about surrendering… to what strength there can be in community and about the wisdom and power of God amidst all the waves and storms of life. Then, perhaps, we can have faith – and discover how to let the sea carry us, as Paul says, "to trust in God's glorious grace, freely bestowed upon us through Jesus Christ."
In the words of the famous songwriter and reluctant theologian, John Denver:
Sweet, sweet, surrender.
Live, live without fear.
Like a fish in the water.
Like a bird in the air.
Amen.
This Ephesians text reminds me of a game I have played many of the summers of my life. Have you ever played Capture the Flag? Now, I played Capture the Flag, most recently, at Camp Magruder a Methodist summer camp at Rockaway Beach where I was a counselor and dean for almost 10 summers. It's a game where there are two teams and two flags. Each team hides the flag in the field (or woods) and, typically, they place guards around it. The guards protect the flag with their lives. If found, they must surrender the flag or run for their lives and not get tagged. Of course, most the time the guards run away with the flag, but every now and again, they realize how futile their flight would be and they surrender there on the spot.
The Apostle, Paul, letter writer to the Ephesians, has surrendered to a life in Jesus Christ and he encourages the same kind of surrender for the people at Ephesus. Paul is swept away by the wonder and grace experienced in Christ. He reminds us of an earnest, divinity “student” coming to grips with his own theology and with his own understanding and celebration of God’s love. Paul writes of believers having access to the heavenly places, God's work of “election” and revelation, and about how all are destined for grace and divine inheritance and the promise of the Holy Spirit in our lives – and all of this in just the first chapter!
Except for the fact that historians and scholars believe most of his letter-writing was from jail, I actually envy Paul! His convictions are solid and he’s so confident! He’s a man with a mission and a message. Whenever he opens his mouth, he knows everyone will listen. Paul surrenders his whole being, and he holds nothing back.
For us 21st century Christians, surrender is a dirty word. To us, it can mean giving in, or giving up, “waving the white flag” and coming out with our hands up in the air. For many of us North American “patriots,” surrender can even mean defeat, and with that defeat – we think – comes shame. Surrender is not about being powerful, in control, number one, or even a winner. Surrender does not appear in our American vocabulary very much. And even when it comes to religion or trusting completely in God, many of us cringe at the thought of giving up, or giving in, without a fight.
The idea of surrender to God in Christ doesn't sit well with good Presbyterians and other thoughtful people. We want a logical, thinking, “reasonable” faith. It is often very difficult for us to, simply, trust and believe either whatever we read or have been told; surrender our need for reasoned thought and thoughtful reason. In fact, one of the tenets of our denomination is that everyone is invited to come to God out of his or her own study, understanding and intellectual comprehension of what it means for God to be present in our lives. So… the first question, for a reasoning Christian, is always, "To what (or to whom) do I surrender?"
We have to be careful what we surrender to. There are many false gods: the idols of the marketplace, the idols of power and politics, the idols of safety and security = and they are all competing for our loyalty. Primetime television is full of images and gimmicks targeting our material surrender: irresponsible pleasure, excessive consumption, misleading missions, actors and athletes as idols, fast moneymaking schemes – all asking us to surrender to them. The litmus test is: does your pursuit make you more compassionate, more humble, more inclusive, more caring, more just? Does that thing you are willing to surrender yourself to… expand or contract your circle of love? Truly divine surrender broadens one’s witness and one’s influence.
The prophet Jeremiah, who had a lot of trouble surrendering to the call of God, suggested a good guideline: “The law of God is one that is written on the heart.” What that might mean for us is that we give ourselves up to that ultimate concern that fulfills every aspect of our being: heart, mind and spirit. We bring it all to God. A complete relationship: mind, spirit and heart. That is what I long to have in God.
However, when we enter a relationship with God, we make ourselves vulnerable. We risk letting go and becoming open to surrendering parts of ourselves we don't want to give up. Maybe it's our reasonable minds. Maybe we have been out of the raft and felt the cold and rage of the river before. Maybe our heart has been broken before. Perhaps our bodies have been bruised or no longer are working well. And, of course, many of us are downright skeptical about this whole spirituality thing.
How shall we ever enter the river with God? How can we take that leap of faith, and let go of our skepticism, our need for control, and our lack of trust – to begin to move in ways that deepen our faith in God; in God’s people and God’s Spirit?
I spoke with someone last week, who literally asked me that question. "How can I trust in God – and more, how can I trust myself in the search for God? Is the church a safe place for me… or for God? Is THIS church a place where I can find God?"
People are wary of aligning themselves with communities of faith. “Well, what if my church makes a decision I don't like? What if I can't support organizations that embrace issues like this or raise money for projects like that? I may have to leave.” Or… “Why even go to church? I can't take the hypocrisy, the doctrine, the sexism, racism, constant fundraising, lousy preaching, regular ritual, or any other thing.”
There are always good reasons not to be a part of a church. For some, the Sunday Oregonian and a tall latte would be one, on this beautiful Sunday morning in July. But the wrong reason to leave a church (or not join one) is because you can’t find a community of faith that agrees on everything: from what kind of music we should sing, to where we stand on immigration or rebuilding Puerto Rico – then I have the perfect excuse not to belong to any community that has more than one member – me.
There is no perfect church. There is no “perfect” complete, human understanding of God. There is no perfect belief system… and there is no perfect way of being a Christian. If you decide to be part of a community of faith, you get it all. Barbara Brown Taylor says that if you seek God and belong to a community called church, "You get a Bible that says God helped Joshua exterminate whole tribes of people and a letter to the Ephesians that says we, of all people, are God’s chosen people. But, at the same time, you also get the parable of the prodigal and the 23rd Psalm."
To my mind, when you join a community, you get to eat with people you wouldn't otherwise meet, you get to celebrate the births, marriages and deaths of people you wouldn't otherwise have the chance to care about. You get to look across the aisle and extend yourself to someone you never met before and might never meet again. You get to sit each Sunday and ponder your relationships and your own spiritual growth. You get to watch children grow up, you get to give your money to good causes, sit in meetings and grapple with our future – just like so many have done before you.
Whenever people are “in community,” we get diversity of opinion, belief, practice, and understanding of what it means to be a part of something bigger than themselves.
Sometimes things will happen that hurt or offend. Some things are worth talking over until we all can agree, while other things don’t require absolute agreement and are moved by the Spirit (and a majority). Still other things we should probably leave alone for a while… and visit them later. We need each other in order to be encouraged when we are ill, lonely, or anxious. We need each other in order to be saved from our own self-righteousness. We need each other to help us be shaped by God for the good of the world. We need each other in order to become Christ’s “body;” the fleshy, fruity, fulfilling (but messy) Body of Christ: in the world, and in this place.
I recall that, annually in July, I would review all the rules and guidelines for fun, healthy, and safe participation at the church-sponsored, youth Summer Camps at the Beach. It hasn’t been just six months now since we’ve experienced yet another tide-related pair of tragedies on the Long Beach Peninsula. Unsuspecting clammers – even healthy, seasoned swimmers can be caught in the undertow of North Coast currents caused by the strong winds and water that gets trapped next to the shore, causing it to pile up, and then, rush out. The waves can crash down and the currents take you away in an instant. And the force of the thundering surf can be so powerful that you are unable to get above the tide to the surface for a breath. In minutes, you can be in trouble – just a few feet from shore.
Now if you are ever caught in a strong undertow: there are two things you can do. If you are a good swimmer, it is recommended that you swim parallel to the shore with the current. Or, you can let the tide carry you out beyond the onshore current by getting on your back… and placing your feet up and your arms over your head. Basically, in this position, you will let the tide carry you out to the breakers, where hopefully it will release you as the water spreads out and harmful waves disappear.
This is like being a person who is on the journey of faith and who is struggling to find a home in or relationship with God. When we resist or put up a fight, there is a chance we will go under and be trapped – spiritually. Our resistance and need to have everything the way we want it is all about us and our desire to be in control.
But, we have to remember, when it comes to God and the matters of life – we are not in control! The winds and the waters of life can be calm and quiet one day and toss us around the next. We can resist, put up a fight and risk going under. Or, we can surrender, align ourselves with the shoreline and go with the flow; swimming with the current. Or… we can let the tide carry us: discovering how to stay afloat; learning how to surrender ourselves: in life and, somehow in the process, to God.
I have never enjoyed surrendering. I have been a good resister to the big waves of life. I have learned well how to put up a good fight and, a couple of times, I have almost drowned. But I have also had the experience of learning how to float – and trusting in friends and family to carry me. Much of this learning has come through living life in community, within a family of faith: being part of the Body of Christ.
As we proceed into our future, in a time when the denomination is struggling with waning numbers and divisive issues – a time when we are wrestling with all that it means to be a welcoming and hospitable church in the 21st century – I think, we need to learn a little about surrendering… to what strength there can be in community and about the wisdom and power of God amidst all the waves and storms of life. Then, perhaps, we can have faith – and discover how to let the sea carry us, as Paul says, "to trust in God's glorious grace, freely bestowed upon us through Jesus Christ."
In the words of the famous songwriter and reluctant theologian, John Denver:
Sweet, sweet, surrender.
Live, live without fear.
Like a fish in the water.
Like a bird in the air.
Amen.