Sermon: Letting Go of Our Stones

Letting Go of Our Stones

Acts 6:16-8:1

(preached at First Baptist Church, Edmonton, Alberta, on April 22, 2015)

 

Today, we enter into the story of Stephen, the first martyr of the Christian faith. The first – but not the last. Long before the likes of ISIS and long after, we will continue to hear the stories of brave men and women who were killed – often brutally – because of their faith in Jesus of Nazareth. From our earliest years of Sunday School, we are taught to stand up for our faith and to boldly declare the name of Jesus, regardless of the consequences – whether they be ridicule, ostracism, or even death. We in the First World have sometimes cheapened the idea of martyrdom, misapplying the word “persecution” to ourselves who have so many rights but perhaps not all of them. But most of all, we have a rich history of outstanding saints who stood firm to the end – whether that end came by stone or lion or fire or machete.

As we enter into the story of Stephen, it’s interesting to note that he didn’t get killed by the government. This time at least, the Romans weren’t the ones doing the persecuting. Stephen got killed by the religious officials in the name of the very God he was proclaiming. One commentator writes this:

The people who kill Stephen are neither the local hooligans nor the Roman soldiers who nailed Jesus to a cross. They are…upstanding members of religious communities: regular members of synagogues, elders, religious professionals, priests. They are guardians of vital traditions. (source: Matt Skinner)

Two groups of people – brothers, Stephen will call them – who each claim to worship the same God, but one ends up dead at the hands of the others. Christians, Jews and Muslims – three cousins, all with a faith grounded in the God who appeared to Abraham – have repeated this story over and over again, killing each other in the name of the God we each profess to worship.

Lord, have mercy. How did this happen? And why does it keep happening?

Presence and Perspective

The Practice of the Presence of God, by Brother Lawrence, Part 3
progress: completed

"Do not forget Him! Think of Him often; adore Him ceaselessly; live and die with Him. That is the real business of a Christian; in a word, it is our profession. If we do not know it, we must learn it." (48)

Before I move on to the next book on my reading list, I owe comment on the topic of the presence of God, which tis he primary subject upon which Brother Lawrence so passionately expounds. In his own words, it is:

"the concentration of the soul's attention on God, remembering that He is always present...[It] is the life and nourishment of the soul, which can be acquired with the grace of God" (67, 68).

He resolved to do whatever he could for God - big or small - and to banish from his life anything that would offend or displease God. When he wandered in his thoughts, he would simply recall them back to God, gently and without condemnation from himself or God. When he was troubled by something, he simply released his concerns to God and lost himself in His love. When he was successful in his attempts at practicing the presence of God, he thanked God for the grace to do so. His life was a fleshed-out attempt at abiding, or dwelling, in Christ (John 15).

It all sounds good. It makes sense. Focus in on God and everything will fall into its proper place, and life will work. I even get that life will work because at that point you'll have transformed definitions for what it means for life to "work" (as with the delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart passage in Psalm 37). What I don't get is how to do this with children. I've had this blog entry in process for several days now, because I've been interrupted by:

• R trying to attach a Mega-blocks sword to a non-Mega-blocks Spiderman figure (they don't fit, so I have to keep reattaching the sword for him)
• T telling me about a monster in his dream with "powerful snot"
• L getting into my paper trays and swatting at me when I tell her no, then collapsing on the floor in an impressive tantrum display. This is already her fourth one of the day...or more.
• T needing me to open the tin where he is storing his fallen pine needles from the Christmas tree "for crafts"
• T telling me his grand plan for an amazing outer space picture, which will be a present for Steve tonight
• T needing me to draw, then cut, then redraw stars for his outer space picture
• R and T fighting over their new Christmas present

And that's just the last ten minutes. Add to that the endless cacophony of three little people wanting to talk, needing to be heard and acknowledged, and waiting for a response from me, and focusing my mind on spiritual things get hard. True, Brother Lawrence experienced much grace in being able to "turn his little omelette in the pan for the love of God" but did he have three chattering monks in need of constant assistance in the kitchen with him at the same time?

I don't know the answer to this, but I suspect Brother Lawrence would tell me that practicing the presence simply means inviting God to join me with my three little chatterboxes, and going off to play with a thankful and grateful heart that he's entrusted them to me. He would say that motherhood is God's portion for me at this point in my life and that I can show him my love by doing it (motherhood, that is) to the best of my ability. I liked this prayer:

"My God, since You are with me, and since, by Your will, I must occupy myself with external things, please grant me the grace to remain with you, in Your presence. Work with me, so that my work might be the very best. Receive as an offering of love both my work and all my affections." (82)

Somehow it still feels like it's going to make me feel guilty rather than blessed. The truth is that it's hard to get your headspace right when your headspace is not your own - it's being bombarded by chattering, stuttering, crying, whining, grumpy and often very sweet (hence the guilt) little voices, fighting for airtime inside my consciousness. Maybe I should've figured out this whole presence thing before I had kids and then I could've been the calm, fun, intentional, idealized mother I'd always figured I would naturally be.

And yet, the only way to experience true comfort is in Christ. Brother Lawrence said that "God won't allow a soul that is searching for Him to be comforted anywhere other than with Him" (31-32). All other attempts to find comfort will fail. I think the same can be said for contentment, joy, peace, etc. So, unless I believe that being a mom makes practicing God's presence impossible, I've got to keep trying to figure it out. What does practicing God's presence look like to me at this point in my life - a wife and mother of three children, a woman struggling with guilt and failure and discontent? How does God's presence transform and redeem and alter my perspective on these things?

***

"Faith gave Brother Lawrence a firm hope in God's goodness, confidence in His providence, and the ability to completely abandon himself into God's hands. He never worried about what would become of him; rather he threw himself into the arms of infinite mercy. The more desperate things appeared to him, the more he hoped - like a rock beaten by the waves of the sea and yet settling itself more firmly in the tempest. This is why he said that the greatest glory one can give to God is to entirely mistrust one's own strength, relying completely on God's protection. This constitutes a sincere recognition of one's weakness and a true confession of the omnipotence of the creator. (89)

"Brother Lawrence saw nothing but the plan of God in everything that happened to him. Because he loved the will of the Lord so much he was able to bring his own will into total submission to it. This kept him in continuous peace." (89)

Share

Life That Looks Like Death, Surrender That Brings Satisfaction

The Practice of the Presence of God, by Brother Lawrence, Part 1
progress: page 40/95

This book had my attention in the very first paragraph. It begins with Brother Lawrence's close friend, Joseph de Beaufort, describing Lawrence's spiritual awakening which took place after observing a tree in winter. By all appearances it was a barren, dead thing, ready for the fire. And yet, recognizing the season, he knew it would bud, flower and bear fruit again. This revelation gave him insight into God's character that changed his life. If God could bring this dead thing to life, how much more could he restore men's souls, if only they committed themselves to his care. Thus began his own journey into God's presence.

Being in what has sometimes felt like a dead place in my own life, this image resonated with me, reminding me of God's care and providence even when it is not immediately evident. In the Christian life, as in nature, what appears dead is often only in hibernation -secret happenings are taking place under the cloak of darkness and cold, preparing for new life to unfold. To be sure, it's been a long winter, but winter, by definition, is only a season, and spring will follow...eventually. Until then, there is some hope that I have some secret happenings of my own taking place within me, growth that will break through the surface like the long-awaited first green tips of crocuses in the snow.

In the meantime, according to Brother Lawrence, I should be practicing the presence of God. Or rather, there is no meantime: God himself is the end. Life, death, pleasures, and plans are all overshadowed in the pure joy of pursuing God and God alone, with no ulterior motives. To be sure, there are great treasures to be gained in wholeheartedly pursuing God, but they are trinkets compared to the gift of God himself.

"He sought only God, and not His gifts...Rather than desiring them from Him, he chose to look beyond the gift, hoping to learn more about God Himself." (10)

So, he sacrificed his pleasures (dreams?) and received for his troubles wholehearted satisfaction.

If God is the end, he is also the means to himself. God alone can lead us to God. He calls us, leads us and causes us to respond all by his grace. We get to know him by practicing the presence of God until it becomes habit - indeed, "a pleasurable habit" (21) - until we are so used to the comfort and joy of his presence that we feel a sharp and immediate sense of loss when we stray from him. For Brother Lawrence this meant complete surrender to the person and will and love of God.

"He wasn't afraid of dying to self or losing himself in Christ, because complete surrender to God's will is the only secure road to follow. In it, there is always enough light to assure safe travel." (17)

Complete surrender to the person and will and love of God? Practice, indeed!

Share