Sermon: Doorway
Lectionary: Romans 5:1-5
These words challenge us; not every suffering person goes through these ‘steps’ from suffering toward hope. The succession of Paul’s four steps to hope does not always happen in our challenged, blessed lives. They’re not even steps, really, not a clear pathway up and out of our troubles. We often find we are stuck in the middle. For many, suffering often ends with a feeling of devastation, not with hope, with disappointment in what we call life. Trust is abused and broken, love is rejected by those closest to us. Late last fall, I preached about our lives, saying, “When we carefully look at even our happy lives, we see wounds, cracks, loss, a few petals fallen off to show that even the happiest life is not a perfect life.” There seems to be no one whose life has not been scratched and dented along the way. “A few petals fallen off” is not a metaphor. Many among us have have gone through terrible times of loss and grief. I know that some of us are even now in a time of turmoil and transition; it can be hard to find God, to make that last step to hope when the world seems to be falling apart around you.
One of the effects of struggling with suffering and grief is that feelings can be misdirected. Anger and blame can be turned outward, hurting others as we have been hurt.
As in the prayer of confession, we struggle with suffering. We fear suffering. We would avoid having that pain, if we could, and if we really were in control of our life. But there’s a good chance we are already suffering, right now. And the challenging part of it is that we don’t usually have a good vocabulary to address suffering and understand it. Even though we know where we are, we often find that we don’t know how to deal with this pain in a right spiritual direction. We seek to find allies. We go out to find friendship. And these are very understandable actions; emotions need to be discharged and troubled hearts needs friendship. Suffering can be shared and comforted. It seeks healing. But these efforts do not always work; trust can be betrayed, painful secrets shared as gossip. We believe that, by reaching out to other people we have tried everything we can do, but we have actually tried to fix the problem and improve the situation by ourselves. The step that we we often miss is to see and hear how God is calling us in the midst of the turmoil, disappointment, devastation, pain, anger, resentment and distress.
It is perfectly reasonable to fear suffering; suffering is a great ordeal in our lives. It pushes us to the edge, making us feel that we have failed in the most important, essential parts of our lives. But God calls us to prepare ourselves for suffering in order to forge a new way for us to send our spirit and God’s spirit to those we love and to those who love us. This is God’s call we hear in every moment and passage in our life - to seek faith, love, hope, and it is indeed a call, because it is very hard, very challenging, especially when we are overwhelmed by life’s challenges.
Life is not a well-marked road. Suffering, endurance, character, and finally hope – they are not a succession of steps or stop signs that we can mark on the way to our destination. In our struggle to move on in life, it may happen that these steps of progress or regression go unnoticed. Sometimes we go some miles ahead, then some miles back to find a comfort zone, or to find our bearings. In the meanwhile, our wounds mend and hope grows little by little, like the green things growing under and beside the rocks along the shoulder of the highway, getting stronger even under harsh conditions. They give us a sign that spring will come even after the hardest winter.
Hope is not a quick answer,though - it shouldn’t be, and cannot be, an immediate response to suffering. Our priority is not to get to that destination quickly, at highway speeds. We have to slow down to find the right speed for ourselves.
On a winding road or in a rollercoaster journey of transition and uncertainty, we find it hard to sit and pray. I recently found the phrase, “When you pray, move your feet.” But no matter whether we sit or we move our feet, we find sometimes that we don’t know how to pray or when to pray.
What today’s reading teaches us is that prayer does not depend on ourselves, but the triune God: Jesus, through the Spirit, is praying with us and for us. I believe that this is the message, the comfort and the heart of the theology of the Trinity.
This week, I have wondered and imagined whether and how our Sunday worship can be a feast of prayers. When you visit our church website you will read; “Members of the congregation participate in a variety of ways during this service – doing readings, offering prayers and leading in singing. The mood of the service is celebratory.” I love this; but what is and should be celebratory is not only the mood of the service. Worship is a feast - it is a feast of prayer and praise. The worship is celebratory because the heart of the worship, the heart of the festivity, is that we pray when and wherever we gather in Christ’s name. And we don’t have to worry about not having the right words, because prayer is not something that begins and ends with me, us, or with someone who is praying on behalf of the church community. Prayer begins and ends with the triune God: with Jesus, through the Spirit, praying for us, according to God’s will, as we pray every Sunday when we say the Lord’s Prayer.
Worship is not just a minister’s work; it is communal work. It is the people’s work, the festival of God’s people. Worship is not governed by its structure; worship is led by the spirit, dwelling among us, in prayer and praise.
Last week, I found a phrase which says “Suffering is the primary doorway through which the Holy Spirit enters our lives.” Suffering is indeed a doorway. But the key to open that door is not in our hands - it is in the root of our being and existence. It is in the bottom depths of the water of emotion. It is present in us but deeper than us. When we find that we are stuck between a rock and a hard place, we tend to find fault, to find blame in others, in ourselves, or in God. But what we need to search for is not a fault, but the key - the key which is in us, and in our relationship with God.
Have you seen the movie “Whale Rider”? In the movie, the leader of an aboriginal community in New Zealand, the grandfather of the film’s protagonist, throws the rei puta, a whale’s tooth, the treasure and symbol of the tribe, into the ocean; whoever recovers it will prove worthy of becoming leader. In the scene, the whale tooth plunges into the depths of the transparent blue water of the Pacific ocean. That scene inspires me to imagine that prayer is our way of recovering the key - responding to God and remembering that the triune God with Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, is praying for us - we exist in the boundlessness of God’s love and promise.
Prayer is daily sustenance. Prayer is the heart of the festivity of worship. Prayer does not begin and end with me, or you. Prayer is not just words. Prayer is remembrance that God’s love is never separated from us. Prayer is presence; it simply needs us. Prayer is where we find hope. Prayer is the key to open the doorway of our suffering – whatever it is - through which the spirit of healing, knowledge, wisdom and truth enter our lives. It breathes us into the next phase – hope and healing and returning to God’s love.
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