I have often thought of preaching a series of sermons on
“personal moments of inspiration.” The series would begin by retelling our stories
about the ways inspiration has crept into our lives and what we were motivated
to change.
It would be familiar
turf for everyone. We all have moments when we were inspired for one reason or
another. It might come from a person, a
point in time, or from rather unassuming places. But it helps to find that
certain time or place where life slows enough for us to hear a deeper voice, a
voice that may speak in ways unexpected.
That place on a
mountaintop where the world seems small, the forest trail early in the morning
where we come alive, our first cup of coffee there on the back deck overlooking
the lake feeling the quiet, a powerful book helping us see a world of
possibility, listening to that favorite music that moves our soul to deeper understanding,
a good movie that moves us in a unique way and we are lost in the story.
One particular movie
for me is, “The Remains of the Day,” starring Anthony Hopkins. While the story has
no happy ending for the main character, played by Hopkins, it is a sobering and
inspirational story of life lived for noble reasons that unwittingly takes away
the possibilities for meaningful love and happiness.
Not all inspiration comes from happy endings.
Just as often it may be a shocking reminder of how quickly a life of goodness
and joy may be lost that inspires. Through such inspiration we may be moved to
discover the need to live a life of lasting value, short term and long term.
You may remember the
story. Hopkins plays the part of a butler named Stevens who has dedicated his
life to his craft. He is so devoted to serving his master he makes no place for
any distraction. He takes no time for
himself. He allows for no relationship that would draw his energy and effort
from his master. Every whim, every
desire, every moment of his life was given to his master.
Stephens is so
focused he intentionally avoided the distraction and attention of a deserving
woman who loved him, which eventually caused him to lose her forever and to
lose any meaningful chance for true happiness.
The tragic point comes
when Stephens realizes how trapped his life had been. Like a slave, he was
never been free and he realizes too late the price he has paid. His life has
been a life forever lost.
This morning in the
gospel we read about would-be followers of Jesus. Jesus reached out to one and
said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”
Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those
at my home.” Clearly they were not
inspired by Jesus’ invitation.
To these Jesus
answered, “Let the dead bury their own dead…” and “No one who puts a hand to
the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
We too have received
Jesus’ invitation to accept him into our lives. That invitation, that most
important decision, has inspired us to live a very different way. At some point
we realize our acceptance is rooted in God’s desire we follow God’s will and
not our own. Accepting God’s invitation will cost us everything that we hold to
be solely important and ours. Not accepting the invitation may be worse.
But, surely Jesus
does not mean what we have heard this morning and in other places in scripture.
Surely we are not to leave or hate our mother, our father, our family, and our
careers. Why would Jesus use such strong words to push us out of the family
nest, away from our life long personal and professional identity?
Jesus knows it takes
a huge push, much self-doubt, and some degree of separation for people to find
their own soul and their own destiny apart from what others and society want
them to be and do. To move beyond
family-of-origin stuff, cultural stuff, even local church stuff, is a path that
few of us follow positively and with integrity.
So Jesus pulls no
punches, saying you must “let the dead bury their own dead” you must “hate” your
home base in some way and make choices beyond it.
As strange as this may seem we really should be happy Jesus
spoke this way, or we would never have the courage to believe how it might be
true. This may not be so inspiring, but the truth is we must leave home to find
the real and larger home.
Read the biographies
of Abraham, Joseph, Moses, and Jesus. The spiritual greats’ motto seems to be,
“Leave home to find it!” And of course they were never primarily talking just
about physical home. But about all the validations, securities, illusions,
prejudices, smallness, and hurt too, that home and family always imply.
This is painful to
hear and impossible to accept. But we are not alone. There is a necessary
suffering that cannot be avoided, which Jesus calls “losing our very life.” But remember, we are not alone.
Accepting Jesus’
invitation will free us to let God make God’s plans for our lives. It will free
us to allow our living Lord God to be grounded in our lives where God will free
us for faith filled turning points, turning points from desperation and loss
and loneliness and regret, to points of grace, life, blessings, love, and
ultimately, real freedom.
Isn’t that what Jesus
did? Jesus reached a turning point in his life. Earlier in chapter 9 of Luke’s
gospel Jesus foretells his death. Not once, but twice Jesus said to his
apostles, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of man is going to be
betrayed into human hands . . . he must undergo great suffering . . . be rejected by the elders . . . and be
killed, and on the third day be raised.”
The turning point
comes when Jesus realizes it is time to live out that decision. Faced with
divergent paths, Jesus turns his face to Jerusalem, not to Galilee, where it is
safe, but to Jerusalem, where he would suffer and die.
All too often we have
discovered making the toughest decisions in life does not guarantee an end to
our life struggles. But, we cannot just sit on the sidelines with our head
buried in the sand. God’s will, lived
through us, requires that we act. God calls us to a Christian life of action
knowing full well the short term and long term costs.
How then do we
faithfully act in this secular world?
In “The Remains of the
Day,” Stevens acted and insulated himself from his authentic self in the
process. His devotion was in the wrong place.
You may recall a
story the author, Anne Lamott, tells about her son wanting to go hang gliding. At first Lamott was frozen in her inability to
act because of her fear for the potential outcome. If she said yes, her son might be killed in
some tragic accident. If she said no, he
might sneak out and hang glide anyway. Either
way, she was convinced he would be hurt. What is a mother to do?
She eventually turned to friends for advice. But, they did
not help. “Let him go,” they said, “let him have a good time, let him grow up.”
But, she replied, “What about my worry?” “Snap out of it,” they said. “You are
babying him.” Like I said, they were no help. She listened to her heart but was
frozen in her indecision.
Jesus listened to his
heart too. Unlike Lamott, Jesus was not frozen in indecision. No, on
the contrary, and critically for us, Jesus was inspired to act knowing that,
“The greatest sacrifices, the largest risks, the greatest ventures are undertaken
only in the name of love.” Only with
love in his heart could Jesus set his face on Jerusalem and not Galilee, only
with love.
How easy would it be
for us to separate ourselves from life and suffering and struggle by insulating
ourselves living as the butler Stevens lived? Always staying on the narrow road
of life may seem prudent, but our prudence may cost us our very lives in the
end.
You may remember a
story George Buttrick, the famous theologian, tells of the way a faithful
Christian acts. He recalls how some
years ago there was a newspaper account of two men coming down a factory
staircase and of one of them flipping the lighted end of a cigarette into what
he thought was a fire bucket filled with water. The bucket held gasoline
instead.
There was a sudden burst of flame. One man instinctively ran
downstairs to save his own skin. The other, just as instinctively, ran upstairs
to warn the people working in the factory floor above.
Which of our selves
takes over in such a time, the downstairs self or the upstairs self, the Galilean
self or the Jerusalem self? Are these times our own turning point perhaps?
At its deepest level,
love becomes sacrificial and beneficial to the beloved. Stevens, the butler,
certainly sacrificed, but he lost any hope of loving and being loved. Anne Lemott made a sacrifice, she chose the
love in her heart for her son and told him no and endured her son’s
disappointment, much longer than he did, of course.
Jesus did not take
the path home to Galilee. He set his face to Jerusalem. He took the road less
traveled out of love for us in order to free us from sin and a life of eternal
damnation. For Jesus, there was no cost too high for eternal freedom for those
he loved.
Our challenge this day
and possibly for many days to come is to realize we will always be faced with
divergent roads, turning points, where we will be challenged and asking
ourselves, my will or God’s. It is just
a fact of life.
Yet as children of
God, there is a singular freedom we may gain, freedom in our holy union with
God. A freedom that will lead us to a
life filled with God’s love and God’s grace giving us the courage and the
strength, and the faith, beyond our singular abilities, to walk with God
wherever God may lead, to obey Christ Jesus in whatever he commands.
Even when he says, “follow me.” Even if we must put our life
in God’s hand and walk Jesus’ path. Even
if we must set our life on the way to Jerusalem.
For it is only there
God’s love ultimately sets us free.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.
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