A Dangerous Hope
Jer. 1: 4-10; Luke 13: 10-17
Thereís this wonderful scene in the kidsí movie Finding Nemo where the two grown-up fish,
Dorie and Marlin, who are searching for Marlinís lost
son, Nemo, are stuck in the mouth of a giant whale.
Now Dorie, the goofy one whoís not too bright,
happens to speak whale ñ or, at least she thinks she can. The whale is making
all kinds of loud whale noises, and Dorie says, ìI
think he wants us to swim to the back of his throat.î
Marlin responds by saying, ìwell of course he wants us to swim to the
back of his throat ñ so he can swallow us!î
The whale has turned his head straight up, and Dorie
and Marlin are clinging to its tongue, hanging on for dear life.
Dorie says, ìI think we should let go.î
Marlin responds with, ìhow do you know
something bad wonít happen?î
And Dorie simply says, ìI donítî; and she
lets go.
Over and over again in scripture we see God call prophets to let go,
and over and over again we hear prophets respond with the same hesitancy of the
little fish in the big whaleís mouth, and with some variation of his question:
ìhow do I know something bad wonít happen?î ìWhat if Iím not up for this?î ìWhy me?î
And over and over again, as the prophetsí lives unfold, we see the
divine responses.
ìHow do you know something bad wonít happen? Well, you donít. Indeed,
chances are pretty good that some bad things will happen. I promise only that I
will be there with you through the darkest valleys.
ìWhat if youíre not up for this? Well, you arenít. At
least, not by yourself. But remember, my promise is to be there with
you. You are not alone.
ìWhy you? Because I have faith in you. Remember, I formed you, and I do pretty good work.î
The story of Jeremiah opens with just such a dialog, and Jeremiah accepts
the challenge. He lets go of the comfortable life of a priestís son to take on
the dangerous role of prophet. He lets go of the familiar past shaped by the
liturgies of his fatherís world to step into a future of Godís envisioning ñ a
future that promises the destruction of the status quo and the planting of
seeds for an uncertain harvest.
Now, we had out-of-town guests last week, and weíre learning what all
of you already know: how to give the nickel tour of the monuments and the Mall.
I had the story of Jeremiah stewing around in my mind as we did the tourist
thing. It was an interesting lens through which to view the increasingly
familiar sites.
We stopped into the Air and
I donít think any vision of a future world of flight could have driven
me past the overwhelmingly obvious question: what if something bad happens?
That primitive flying machine still strikes me as precious little on which to
pin oneís hopes.
Later on, we were walking around the FDR Memorial, and these words carved
into the stone leaped out at me: ìThe only limit to our realization of tomorrow
will be our doubts of today. Let us move forward with strong and active faith.î
Much of life seems to unfold in the tension between deep doubt and
audacious hope, between our visions of soaring toward the heavens and our
nagging fears that keep our eyes downcast and our feet firmly on the ground;
between the tenacious hold we keep on the way things are and the tiny hopes we
dare to dream as we consider the possible costs of letting go.
Scripture is full of stories of people whose doubts about today
obscured their hopes for tomorrow. Jeremiah was appointed prophet to just such
people: a people in exile, just hanging on with precious little hope for any
future.
Yet, in the midst of the wasteland, on the outskirts of besieged
Jerusalem, in the midst of the siege, Jeremiah buys a field, and announces
Godís promise to the exiles: ìhouses and fields and vineyards shall again be
bought in this landî (Jer. 32:15).
What foolishness! What lousy investment! What audacious hope!
Would it not be far safer for Jeremiah to keep his head down, mind his
own business and simply survive? Would it not be far safer to just hold on
tight? Would it not be far safer for Jeremiah to keep his mouth shut rather
than speak an unpopular truth to an entrenched power?
Well, it probably would be safer, but Jeremiah was not called to a
life of safety. He was, indeed, appointed ìover nations and over kingdoms, to
pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plantî
(Jer.
If he is to live into the fullness of that calling, Jeremiah cannot
allow his doubts of today to stand in the way of Godís vision for tomorrow.
Few of us are called to anything as difficult and dangerous as
speaking difficult truth to the rulers of nations and kingdoms. Likewise few of
us are led to anything as difficult and dangerous as trying to get airborne in
a rickety flying machine. And certainly, few of us are led to anything as
difficult and dangerous as leading the nation through depression and global
war.
And yet, most of us respond to far less dangerous and far more
ordinary challenges just like Marlin the clownfish did: we cling desperately to
whatever we can hold on to in the midst of whatever status quo we find
ourselves caught in, too timid and too tepid to let go because something bad
might happen.
So, what are we called to today? What challenges stand before us?
Well, thereís a joke in the Army that the two most dangerous words in
the English language are follow me.
Those are probably the two most dangerous words in all of scripture, as well.
It represents the essence of the call that Jeremiah heard.
God said, ìfollow me. Follow in my ways.
Listen to my words and not to those of the powers and principalities, not to
those of the kings and the rulers. Follow me, and be a prophet to my people.î
That simple phrase captures the essence of the call that Moses heard,
the call that Amos and Isaiah and Micah heard.
And it is, of course, the phrase that Jesus employs over and over
again.
It captures, in stark simplicity, the essence of what it means to be
Christian, and it captures also the essence of what we are called to today. Are
we following Jesus?
Are we allowing the deepest values of our faith ñ passion, compassion,
love and justice ñ to inform every aspect of our lives.
Do these values ñ the values of discipleship ñ determine how we spend our time
and how we spend our money? Do these values ñ which give shape to our efforts
to follow the way of Christ ñ do they inform our vocational decisions? Do we
seek after jobs and volunteer opportunities that line up with our core faith
values?
Do these values ñ love, joy, peace, patience, compassion, generosity,
faithfulness, gentleness, self-control, as Paul names them in Galatians (5:22)
ñ do they determine the choices we make at school, at home, in the marketplace,
here, in church even?
If not, why not? What stands in the way? What are we clinging to that
is more precious to us than living lives of faithful discipleship? What doubts
of this day keep us from living into the tomorrow of Godís imagination?
If you are sitting on the horns of a dilemma these days ñ considering
job opportunities, perhaps; pondering class choices at school; dealing with a
difficult relationship; struggling with your own demons; trying to decide if
you feel called to move off the dime and join this church, to move off the pews
and join the choir, to move out of your comfort zone and teach Sunday School,
or to move into the world by becoming more active in our mission efforts at
Clarendon ñ if you are in the midst of any such decisions ñ swimming around in
the mouth of your very own whale ñ try letting go of the fears that cling and,
instead, trust the one who says ìfollow me.î
Remember the bent over woman in Luke? She risked being scorned for
being touched by an unrelated man. She risked being cast out of the community
for praising God in response to the one who was breaking Sabbath codes. She risked
a dangerous hope for an unlikely healing, and discovered a balm in
The disciples risked a dangerous hope, too, following one who seemed
bent on running afoul of the religious leaders, and challenging the authority
of the secular rulers and kings. But in setting aside their well-founded fears
of the day, they found themselves living into the future of Godís imagining.
Risk the dangerous hope of living by the Spirit, for, as Paul put it,
ìif we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spiritî (Gal.
It is dangerous hope. There are no guarantees. It may not work out.
Something bad might happen. There may be pain, and suffering, and scars along
the way. And there may be so much more than you and I can even imagine. It is
dangerous hope; but it is also brilliant light that shines even in the darkest
places.
Oh, by the way, the whale spits out Marlin and Dorrie,
they find little Nemo, and things work out the way
theyíre supposed to in childrenís movies.
But you know what? Even if the whale swallowed them, they had both
been transformed. Their fearful, lonely lives had been redeemed already by
their faithful, risky work of radical hope. They had been transformed by living
into a dangerous hope.
Risking dangerous hope will do that. It will make prophets out of
young boys, it will make disciples out of fishermen, it will make liberators
out of captives, it will make visionaries out of the blind, and it will make
faithful Christians out of you and me. Let it be so, for the church at Clarendon.
Amen.
Rev. Dr. David E. Ensign