Lamentations 1:1-6, 3:19-26 2 Timothy 1:1-14 Luke 17:5-10
Today we read of mercy and the promise of life. So, you bunch of “worthless slaves,” tell me what mercy is, anyway? It’s not a word that we tend to use very often. In fact, a search in Google Books reveals that it was highly used in the 1800s and hit an all-time low in the 1980s. It seems to be coming back a little bit, at least in published literature, but what does Mercy actually mean? [Answers given from members include helping, compassion, stopping a punishment.]
Those are good answers. It probably meant all of those things in the past, but I imagine the concept of mercy is applied a little differently in today’s court system than in the 1800s. I think the simplest form of mercy that we can all appreciate is when someone makes the bad stuff stop. When we suffer a loss, or when we just plain suffer, our souls cry out, “Mercy!”
A few years ago I was in a place of deep suffering. My father-in-law had died and we went to Tennessee for the funeral. At that time my body decided that a kidney stone was also in order. Not only was I unable to comfort my wife in her sorrow or mourn my own loss, but I was in a miserable amount of pain. I’m embarrassed to say that I may have said some colorful words in that hospital bed that could have been confusing to the faith of others. In my defense, I had recently seen an episode of MythBusters wherein that such language could help you manage pain. This was determined to be a fallacy at about the same time as the Associate Pastor from my in-law's congregation showed up.
Blushing, he poked his head in the door and said, “It sounds like this isn’t a good time for a visit.” I said, “No, you are right on time. Pray. Now. Nurse, (she had just started the pain meds) don’t stop what you are doing.” By the mercy of God in prayer and medication, the pain did stop for a while.
Look, we’ve all been in need of mercy. If you have not, I’m sorry to say that you will be at some point. Hopefully, you’ll never experience the abject suffering described in lamentations, but all of us experience the frustration of being separated from those that make life worth living. All of us will probably also experience the frustration of the impossible task as well.
No matter what the source, it is unavoidable that we will at some point feel a little “put upon.” That’s how the disciples felt. I can’t really blame them, though. He had just told them that if they mislead someone in the faith they might as well grab a heavy rock and go swimming with it. Then he said that they had to forgive those that were doing the same thing, over and over again. “Increase our faith!” they said. “That’s too hard!” they said.
Here’s the gospel truth to go with that – the mercy of God is renewable energy for your soul. You just have to wait for it.
That’s not to say a good cathartic scream into a pillow or while you are in the car by yourself doesn’t help. In fact, I remember a story from my Hebrew Professor, Carson Brisson, from his days as a Pastor. He once told us of a young couple that had tried everything they could to get pregnant and yet lost the child through a miscarriage. The husband later confided that when he was alone in his room that night he screamed angrily at God and shook his fist and even denied his faith. At that very moment, in the stillness after the scream, the young man felt that he could hear God saying, “Now you have come closer to me than you have ever been,” and it was true.
I don’t believe that God needed the man and his wife to have this loss, but I believe that through it they came closer to God. They came to see that there is mercy after the loss, and there is yet the promise of a life lived fully in the presence of God. The promise of life was Paul’s message to Timothy. This promise was handed to Paul from Christ and passed on through the generations even to you and to me today.
We must not be ashamed of the hope that we have in Christ. I know that sounds funny to us, but for Timothy, it meant that he should not be ashamed of a message of hope through a crucified leader and an inmate. For you and me, it means that we can have the courage to know where mercy comes from. We can have the courage to know that mercy is not only just like a chorus that comes back around in a song we love, but it is also the entree point for grace.
Today is a day that we celebrate mercy growing into grace around the Lord’s Table. Not only do we celebrate it together, but we celebrate it with all who follow Christ, no matter how imperfectly, throughout the world! A few years ago, our friend Madre Annie from the Episcopal Church celebrated communion with us on this day. She was a little surprised because as far as she knew, every Sunday was World Communion Sunday.
Well, maybe we have not done a good enough job getting the word out in recent years, but this tradition started in a Presbyterian congregation in the 30s as an expression of church unity and was ratified by the National Council of Churches in the 40s. So, whether anyone else does or not, we hold this day as a day to recognize that this table is one table throughout the whole wide earth. On this day we remember that everything stops, even if only for a moment, to allow mercy to be transformed to grace, so that forgiveness can have the last word.
As an act of solidarity with those we long to see and celebrate with, we have placed a cloth painted with handprints from our brothers and sisters in Sabanilla on the Lord’s Table today.
They have one just like it hanging on the wall in their sanctuary, and they have another cloth with our handprints on the Lord’s Table in their sanctuary. Megan was in charge of this project and she told me about her favorite handprint. It came from a little girl named Stephanie who snuck around to get her hand on the banner twice.
I think of her when I hear the disciples say, “Lord, increase our faith!” I think of them all when I hear Jesus say that if I had the tiniest amount of faith, then I would see how heaven and earth move toward grace and mercy. Still, I look at the impossible tasks before us as a church and I have some real issues with Jesus calling us worthless slaves.
Maybe I’m hearing it wrong, though. Maybe he is saying, “If you acted on faith, how much more could be done? All I’m asking you to do is to do your job. Just be kind. Just be forgiving. Just remember that my mercy and grace are also for you because you need it!”
Then I remember that this is the master who also takes the form of the servant and sets a table for all the world to join. Humbly we come to this table with nothing left but our desire for mercy. All this has been done for you and for me, and all we can do is wait. All we can do is pray. All we can do is act in response to the grace and mercy and forgiveness of Christ.
Here’s the thing: even as we wait, mercy is already happening. Even as we pray, and we need to be praying, God’s arms are moving to lift us, embrace us, and set us on our way. Even as we act we are only responding to the grace and mercy that is already at play.
You are not worthless. In fact, you have been paid for at the highest price. The question is not one of your worth. The question is, how much value do you place on others in light of God’s grace? That’s the question that sends us running to Jesus, and thanks be to God for the promise of life that is in him!
Amen.
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