Brave

1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Matthew 25:14-30

Some weeks I look ahead to find out what scriptures are assigned for the coming Sunday and I groan. This is one of those weeks, because…well, let’s say I’ve developed a strong dislike for this gospel story.

I don’t like it because it feels like this is Jesus telling us we have to earn our way into the kingdom of heaven; like we have to earn our salvation. I know that can’t be true, because there’s too much evidence elsewhere in the gospels, in scripture, that salvation is a gift we can’t and don’t earn for ourselves, and that God is overwhelmingly generous to the unworthy and unsuccessful.

But I hear Jesus talking about these two industrious, eager slaves being rewarded for their work, and this frightened and cautious slave being condemned and cast out as worthless… and I have to wrestle, long and hard, with my own fear of not being good enough, or working hard enough, to satisfy God.

And then, in the wrestling this week, I realized that’s the deeper thing that makes me uncomfortable about this story:
It’s about fear. About anxiety. About exactly that worry that I can’t be good enough to satisfy God or anyone else.

That’s the fear that drives one slave to bury the money put into his hands. Fear that his master was harsh and greedy; and that he couldn’t do or be enough to satisfy, froze his heart and mind, and he could not tolerate the risk of any action at all – or even having to think about what to do with the money.

And that fear gets him exactly what he dreaded. The master is disappointed or angry, and casts the slave out, into the realm of weeping and regret. It’s possible that we create God’s judgement for ourselves, seeing in our encounters with God only what we expect to see. It’s possible that this story tells us that we are able to receive from God only what we expect and have prepared ourselves to receive, whether joyful or miserable.

Or maybe this slave is exactly right about the character of the master. Maybe it’s not just perception. The master never denies being harsh or reaping the crops that someone else has sown. Maybe this slave is spot on, and the other two slaves knew it too. In that case, you and I are supposed to be paying attention to the difference between the actions of the two and the one. Because in this case, either the two active, investing slaves were somehow not afraid of the master’s harsh judgement, or they did not let that fear control them.

Jesus’ story reminds me of all the times and ways I let fear, doubt, or anxiety cripple or paralyze me – in everyday life, and in my relationship with God. Not because I really think that God is harsh, greedy, or selfish; not that I really believe that I should be afraid of God, but because I am afraid of the risks God might want me to take – risking self-image, embarrassment and sometimes danger to increase God’s harvest, or risking my comfort and security to use the gifts God has given.

I think I’m worried about offending people if I talk too much, or too enthusiastically, about God. But really I’m afraid that people will think I’m stupid or judgmental. And often, I let those fears paralyze me, keep me silent. In doing so, I bury the treasure of hope and joy that God has put into my hands.

I get anxious about phone calls, fearing that I’ll say the wrong thing, or worry about starting a conversation about important issues because I don't know how I’ll be able to finish it – and I don’t even realize I’m procrastinating or avoiding it until far too late. So I end up burying the treasure of relationship, of the generous hearts of others, or the gift my presence could be to someone else.

I worry about the budget or the calendar, because really I’m dreading failure – I fear that what I have or what I am doing is not enough.  And I let that anxiety or fear paralyze my trust in God, or in you, or in my family and friends, and I rush about being busy, taking on more tasks and leaping at solutions before I’ve thought them through.

Sometimes, instead of freezing us, anxiety drives us into unnecessary or unwise activity, and lots of it. And that, too, can be a way of burying the treasure of hope, peace – or a call to something greater – that God has put into our hands.

Some of my worries and fears may sound familiar to you. Or your fears may take a very different shape. God puts different treasures into our hands; God risks something different with each of us; we each risk something different with what God puts into our hands. And as a result, sometimes we bury those treasures out of fear, out of the knowledge that using those treasures carries real risk, and that we can’t guarantee the outcome of our actions.

But sometimes… well, sometimes, you don’t get paralyzed. Sometimes you speak up into the face of your fear. Sometimes you make that phone call that terrifies you, don’t you? Sometimes you spend that money you’re still afraid to spend, lose that meeting you know you can’t miss, do that thing that terrifies you – and wind up falling in love, discovering a ministry you never expected that feeds your heart and pours out grace for others, or open a door to a realm of growth and wonder and discovery.

Paul reminds us that when anxiety and fear are pressing around us - from the concerns of the world, or from the sense of God’s coming before we’re ready – our faith and love and trust in salvation become armor for us: the protection that make us free to act with confidence and strength for the kingdom of God. That “armor” makes us free to double the treasures – the talents and passions, wealth and knowledge – that God has put into your hands. Free to give those treasures to others and receive even more.

Jesus is telling us this uncomfortable story today because Jesus knows that it’s tempting to give in to fear, to bury our fragile hopes and risky gifts from God so deep that we can forget we are afraid. Jesus knows it’s easy to bury ourselves in anxiety-driven activity, exhausting ourselves so that we are not ready to rejoice with God when we come suddenly face-to-face.

But Jesus also knows that we can live abundantly in spite of those fears, if we recognize them and face the risk head on. Jesus knows we can act bravely in the face of real consequence; and that this is what makes our hearts and souls ready to enter into the joy of our Master, to live here and now and eternally in intimate grace with Christ, overwhelmed by the love of God.

God has put the treasure into your hands, my friends, and mine.

So let us be brave, and enter into God’s joy.

-->