Slow Miracles in a Fast-Track World

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC May 31, 1^st Sunday after Pentecost.

Texts:  Genesis 12:1-9                                                

 

One of my favorite places in DC is the Arboretum.  And one of my favorite places in the Arboretum is under a particular, huge “Southern Magnolia” tree.  This tree is massive.  You can walk into it and see the roots growing out and up within it—forming a kind of “jungle gym” within its glossy green leaves and smooth grey-green branches.  I like to perch on one of the low growing root-branches and feel the cool of the earth and shade and observe the life that the tree supports:  birds, insects, other plants, all thrive within the ecosystem that is this tree.  Lately, the huge ivory blossoms emit their fragrance, that pungent sweetness fills the nostrils, the spirit, and reminds me of the sheer wonder and beauty and gift that is creation.  Maybe I’m drawn to this tree because, as a child, I used to go to our little magnolia in the front yard as a retreat—though our magnolia was only a bit taller than I was at 10 years of age.  I wonder if that little magnolia will ever resemble the audacious specimen at the Arboretum.  Some years ago, my folks sold my childhood home and 20 acres in Kiefer, Oklahoma to relocate to Texas, so I may never know how large the tree will grow…but one thing is for sure:  it will take many, many years for it to grow even close to the size and grandeur of the one at the Arboretum.  That kind of growth takes time.

 

Even those of us who are not professional earth scientists know that when a tree is cut down, you can observe the stages of that tree’s life and growth by looking at the rings found in the trunk.  Written into the very matter of the tree is the story, the history—the journey if you will—of that particular tree.  The largest, grandest trees have been growing a very long time, growing by stages, adding to their girth ring by ring. //

Trees are counter-cultural.  We live in a fast-track world and our culture breeds impatience with anything that takes too much time.  I don’t have to point out all the daily evidences of this, though I must say that for me the most consistent evidence in my own life recently are my interactions with my computer at home.  I get really impatient if things don’t move at the speed that I think they should be moving! 

 

And we human beings tend to get impatient with our lives, too, when things don’t happen as quickly as we’d like them to.  Relationships, learning new skills, attaining a certain level of achievement or stature or rank in our vocations, recovering from an injury or loss, clarity about our direction in life, losing weight…all these things and many more can frustrate us when they take longer than we want them to.  This impatience also shows up in our spiritual lives.  Perhaps there are those of us who had, at some point, an initial burst of energy on our faith journey.  We decided to get involved in a faith community and to make a commitment to follow Jesus.  However, after a while, the energy seemed to subside; perhaps the kind of relationship or feeling or knowledge you wanted weren’t immediately forthcoming…and so commitment flags, energy fades.  For some of us here, perhaps we have been very committed…even doggedly so…and yet the spiritual growth that we want just doesn’t seem to happen…we still struggle with anger or insecurity or self-destructive habits or anxiety or malice or laziness.  And we think to ourselves:  “If God wants me to be healthy and whole and I want the same thing and am asking for it—why hasn’t it happened yet??”  Sometimes, we decide to just give up when it doesn’t happen when we think it should happen.  Oh, and we get impatient with community life as well—we want things to get better in our city, nation, and world.  We know the way our faith community needs to be changed.  And we want it NOW.

Today in our scripture, Abram is called by God to “GO” and so he and his family set out and journey from their home, not certain of where they will finally end up.  And they journey into Canaan.  And they pass through to the place at Shechem; and then they move on to the hill country east of Bethel.  In the last verse of the passage we hear, “And Abram journeyed on by stages toward the Negeb.”  They journeyed on by stages…  Two things I want to highlight.  First, in order to discover the place to which God is calling him, Abram had to agree to go.  He had to wake up every day and continue the journey; he had to choose to keep moving, to keep looking and listening for confirmation that he was headed in the right direction.  Second, notice that this journey takes place “by stages.”  In order to get to the hill country, he first had to travel through Shechem; in order to get to the promised land, he had to keep moving toward the Negeb, passing through this land and that town, through this river and over that mountain.  This kind of journey takes time.  It takes commitment.  It takes patience. 

 

Of course Abram could have chosen to ignore the call of God, could have stayed comfortably secure and safe in his home country with all his familiar surroundings and kindred.  He could have stopped moving when the journey took too long or when the terrain became difficult to move through.  He could have given up when he got tired from the constant searching and moving.  The story of our faith would have been quite different if he had made any of these choices.  The choice to follow where God was leading made a difference not only for Abram and Sarai, but ended up making a difference in the history of the world. // The point for us today is that Abram didn’t get to where God was calling him overnight.  He was up in years before he ever even received the call!  And then the journey took many more years, many more stages, many more “rings of growth” if you will, before he lived into the name by which we know him, “Father Abraham.”

 

But in so many of the Gospel stories, there seem to be immediate miracles— One after another, folks seem to “immediately” change.  Tax collectors like Matthew who, when Jesus calls, jumps up from his toll booth to immediately follow—from tax collector to disciple in the blink of an eye!  But we all know that those who followed Jesus as disciples struggled and misunderstood, they goofed up and didn’t get what was really going on.  They, too, journeyed by stages.  They, too, had the choice every day about whether or not they’d keep walking with Jesus.  It was only after they’d gone the distance with Jesus that they began to come into their own power as disciples of Jesus Christ.  It was only after they’d walked all the way past the cross and the grave that they saw what Jesus was really trying to share with them.

 

There are wonderful stories of instant healing and miraculous, immediate changes in the Bible.  But you never know what had taken place prior to a seemingly “immediate” change.  What had it taken for the woman with the flow of blood to get herself to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment?  What events had led Bartimaeus to cry out to Jesus with such determination?  What had happened in the life of the paralytic to make him receptive enough to what Jesus offered that he was empowered to “take up his mat and walk?”  To get to the place we are being called, it takes time.  It takes making a choice again and again to keep journeying, to keep living, learning, looking and listening. //

 

We want what we want and we want it today.  That’s the general mode of our world.  And perhaps we aren’t so different from those who came before.  Living in the 4^th century, Saint Augustine said, “We take for granted the slow miracle whereby water in the irrigation of a vineyard becomes wine.  It is only when Christ turns water into wine, in a quick motion, as it were, that we stand amazed.”  Do we really want “slow miracles?” 

 

Over the course of the last several days at the Baltimore-Washington Annual Conference, I found myself reflecting on this idea of “the slow miracle.”  Slow miracles often involve not only time, but struggle, frustration, hard work, and commitment.  Baltimore Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake addressed the conference saying that she would prefer not to have to go through “stuff”—but that in the midst of the dark days, she is seeing so much good, she is learning and growing and being inspired and encouraged by the strength and faith of people in Baltimore.  The “slow miracle” of healing, justice, and reconciliation in Baltimore is well underway.  But it will be a journey by stages and will involve struggle, disappointment, and challenge…  While at conference, I heard from Pastor Ben that the DC Council had unanimously approved a budget that will increase spending on homeless services and affordable housing.  If you didn’t know any better, you might think that had happened out of the blue.  But of course, there has been a consistent, organized effort by so many people and organizations—Foundry included—that influenced the vote.  The “slow miracle” of ending chronic homelessness in DC is underway…happening by stages.  Last week, T.C. Morrow, Foundry member who completed her Masters of Divinity degree ten years ago, met with the District Committee on ordained ministry and was approved to move forward to the Provisional Exam—so that at this time next year, by the grace of God, we will be celebrating her commissioning.  And yesterday, our own Leo Yates was commissioned as a provisional Deacon along with many others who were commissioned and ordained into Christian ministry.  And in a couple of weeks Pastor Ben will be commissioned as a provisional Deacon in the UMC.  For many if not most of us in this vocation, the journey toward ordination is a “slow miracle”—sometimes much more slow than we would desire.  // And the movement in our denomination to become a truly and fully inclusive church is another of those places where the miracle is underway—the BWC overwhelmingly approved a petition that will be forwarded to General Conference to remove the harmful language toward LGBTQ persons from the Book of Discipline.  There remain daily reminders of the harm that is being done.  It is a painfully “slow miracle.”  But I believe it really is underway…emerging by stages.

 

Whatever stage of life or growth we find ourselves in today, we have to choose what we’re willing to do and what we will endure to get where God is calling us.  We have to choose not just once, but each and every day of our lives what we’re living for and whom we are going to follow and whether we will hang in there over the long, slow, haul.  You can’t get to the promised land—whatever or wherever that is for you—without waking up every day and choosing whether you will keep trusting God to walk with you and to guide you and to give you strength for the journey.

 

It may make us feel tired to contemplate “slow miracles” in our lives.  But when we’re living our lives with intention and purpose, seeking to follow Jesus’ way of life that is a life of love and mercy and justice (for ourselves and others!) even being tired can be OK.  I remember our former bishop telling a story about some kids who had just returned from a mission trip.  The pastor walked to the parking lot outside the church and found the teens lounging on their duffel bags and pillows and said, “So how are you?”  And one of the kids said, “We’re so tired.  But you know what?  It’s the best tired I’ve ever felt!”

 

It takes time to let our roots grow deep into the places where we will find nourishment and sustenance, healing and freedom.  But the “slow miracle” of becoming more whole—as persons and as communities—is worth all the waiting and the struggle.  Because, in the end, our lives will provide places for others to find a shady, cool place to rest and a vision of the strength and beauty that comes to all who love and follow Christ.