More Christian?

Genesis 22:1-14; Matthew 10:40-42

You might notice a contrast between two of our scripture stories this morning.

The first story we heard is called the akedah, the “binding,” in the Hebrew tradition.  God instructs Abraham to take his beloved son to Moriah, and offer him on the altar on the mountain.  And Abraham does it! 
He goes off to the mountain with Isaac, binds his son on the altar and reaches for a knife to kill Isaac before (finally!) God interrupts, and provides a ram for the offering.

There’s no disguising the fact that this is a scary and very disturbing story.

And then we come to the gospel, where we hear Jesus’ talking to his disciples as he sends them out to preach and teach and heal:

Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me. And those who welcome a prophet, or a righteous person, or even one of the nobodies, receives a reward.  

Welcome everyone!  It’s rewarding!

Now tell me honestly, which of those stories sounds more like being a good Christian to you?

The binding of Isaac?

Or welcome everyone?

Well, there’s good news and bad news about the results of this little poll: you’re all wrong. Or equally, you’re all right, including those of you who had a hard time deciding.

You see, even though they sound so different, both of these stories are about putting God ahead of absolutely everything else.  Putting God ahead of our love, our convenience, our hearts, even our faith!

I am absolutely certain that God never approves of child sacrifice – the prophets warn Israel and everyone else against it – and that God definitely doesn’t want any of us to get ideas about killing our children.

It helps to remember as we read Isaac’s story, that even though God tells Abraham to offer Isaac on the altar, God has already made sure that Isaac will never be in actual danger.

But Abraham really does have to trust God even more than he trusts himself. 

He has to trust God even more than he loves and values his son (and that’s a lot!).

God has to trust Abraham a lot, too, because God could lose both Isaac and Abraham by inviting them to this heart-breaking altar – if Abraham doesn’t actually trust God that much.

But there’s evidence of Abraham’s trust throughout the story.

When Isaac asks about the missing lamb for the offering, Abraham answers “God himself will provide the lamb.”  (It’s the only time in the Bible when we actually hear the familiar phrase “God will provide” – and when you use it, remember it’s a high stakes trust, here!)

And earlier in the story, when they leave Abraham’s servants behind, Abraham tells them to wait because we – both he and Isaac – will return.

It takes a powerful, painful, gut-wrenching kind of trust to bind your own son and reach for a knife, still trusting that God will provide. 

And thank God, God doesn’t ask that of you and me.

But God still demands some pretty powerful trust from us.  

There’s evidence of that in the gospel story.

You see, welcoming people the way Jesus means it is not about being nice, polite, or friendly. Welcoming people is actually about extra and unusual effort to treat people as God would treat them. 

To proactively, intentionally, seek out the opportunity to make people at home in your community; to show guests that they are valued and served and cared for just as you would care for God.

It may mean giving up privacy and familiarity in your home to welcome someone God needs you to care for.  It may mean going way out of your comfort zone to greet strangers, pray in public or in your workplace, because we’re called to welcome God’s people who aren’t ready for or interested in coming through our church doors.

We’ve been talking about welcome in Vestry this year.  You’ve heard us talk about “Refresh, Renew, Revive,” and about how we want to change up our entryway and our fellowship space to make our building more welcoming, encourage conversation, and put physical form on our hospitality.

But we also remind ourselves in those conversations that to welcome a prophet, or a righteous person, or a “little one” – Jesus’ term for “no account” people, the people who clearly don’t matter – to welcome any or all of those people is about a lot more than furniture and name tags.

The building is the easy part.  Advertising and seriously inviting people from outside – face to face is harder – it’s the sort of things that make Episcopalians squirm. 

But what Jesus is talking about is even more.

Jesus is asking us to work on our hearts – on looking actively and intently for ways we can incorporate people into our life together, ways we can help others see that their whole selves are welcomed by God, even if they seem “different” than us. 

It means paying more attention to inviting, involving, and serving others than to whether we’re comfortable or happy in worship. 

It means going even further than we do now to put kids and people with walkers ahead of our sense of proper space and normal worship.

It means being excited about the challenges of changing our assumptions; embracing differences that make people with different colors, cultures, food, music, and ways of celebrating just as much at home at Calvary as you or I could be.

To do all that we have to trust God more than we care about our own comfort, or our families, or friends.

That’s not being “nice” at all.

That’s being gut-wrenchingly Christian.

Which brings us right back to Abraham and Isaac, and to trusting God.

Trusting God so much that you don’t fear the loss of whatever you hold most dear, even in the moment that you’re preparing to sacrifice that darling to God.

Trusting God so much that you’ll go far out of your way to do what God wants – even though you have serious doubts about whether it will make you happy.

Trusting God so much that you’ll consciously try to welcome when that means uprooting unconscious habits or comfort.

Geez, that’s a lot of trust!

And that is exactly what being Christian – being “Christ-like” – is  all about. 

About trusting God so much that we can embrace discomfort, doubt, and fear – just like Jesus did – to offer up what’s dearest to us, and go out of our way to welcome others as we would serve and honor God.

That trust means ongoing work; it’s not a one time deal.

You don’t have to be nice to people (you can, though), you don’t have to sacrifice your children, but you do have to trust God above even the things that are closest to your heart.

You and I have already been invited to that nerve-wracking altar.  Even welcomed by God. 

Now we’re called to trust beyond trust, and to welcome others.

Jesus promised us that it’s rewarding – that’s important to remember.

And God’s waiting with us – just like with Abraham – to see what happens.

What do you think it will be?