If
you’ve been watching the news from California this week, you have a mental
picture of the kind of devastation and fear that Jesus is talking about today. A landscape that used to be full of life and natural beauty now looks like the barren
surface of the moon. Rubble and ruin in shades of black and gray and ash paint
a vivid picture of the pain of grief and loss.
The
California fires are just the latest way in which the world proves itself to be
untrustworthy. We’ve seen similar destruction of even the most stable buildings and
infrastructure after hurricanes and floods, just this summer. The same
widespread sense of danger and fear and loss that comes from remembering we can’t
always trust our homes and churches and roads and friends to be there when we
come back.
In fact, we were all reminded how untrustworthy the world can be just a couple of days ago, when the snow defied the forecasters and turned the roads and our schedules into a snarled, destructive mess.
In fact, we were all reminded how untrustworthy the world can be just a couple of days ago, when the snow defied the forecasters and turned the roads and our schedules into a snarled, destructive mess.
We
can’t make plans, carry out business, meet friends for dinner, care for our
kids, drive to the grocery without trusting the world to be stable and
predictable. But the world keeps on proving itself to be full of uncertainty; untrustworthy
and chaotic.
The
world has long proven untrustworthy for Hannah. In
the normal, predictable course of things, married to a man who loves her, she should
have had a child long ago. Many children. And she hasn’t. Her
rival bullies her mercilessly over this. And her husband clearly doesn’t understand
– trying to cheer her up by focusing on himself, not her. Even God has failed her so far, it seems, since
God hasn’t yet given her a child.
But
even so – in the face of all this disappointment – Hannah turns to God. She goes into the sanctuary to pour out all
her fear and anxiety and hope mixed with pain. And in the middle of pouring out
her heart she makes a vow to God. She commits herself to be faithful and trustworthy,
when all that she should trust has failed her.
Then she walks away from that prayer and vow full of assurance and confident expectation. Ready to take up life and trust again.
Then she walks away from that prayer and vow full of assurance and confident expectation. Ready to take up life and trust again.
In
due time, that trust is fulfilled. Hannah has a son, and fulfills her own vow
to God. But it’s noteworthy that her assurance – her confidence and hope and
happiness – come before the child’s
birth. Her trust is restored while she cries out to God, by making a vow to be
trustworthy and faithful herself.
Hannah’s
story reminds us of a truth that resonates over and over through scripture, and
through the history of God’s people. We heard it again this morning, from the
sermon to the Hebrews recorded in the New Testament: “Let us hold fast to the
commitment of our faith, knowing that the one who has promised is faithful.”
Jesus
is faithful to us, God is faithful to us, when the world insists on being
untrustworthy.
That’s
good news. It’s just hard, often, to really trust in God while the world we
live in tries to keep us from trusting (anything).
Fire
and flood and snow betray our trust in the world’s stability.
People
who long to be parents still suffer infertility, the betrayal of what we hope
is natural, and the sometimes deliberate, sometimes unintentional, derision or
misunderstanding of the fertile, just like Hannah did.
Wars
and rumors of wars cover the earth, just as Jesus warns his disciples. The daily news is full of stories about Facebook
and Russian trolls and old voting machinery that undermine our ability to trust
our democracy and the tools of relationship. People we need die; the healthiest of us gets cancer.
God
is still faithful. Always faithful. It’s just hard to feel the truth of that
sometimes. Hard
to know how to put our trust in God.
That’s
one of the blessings of Trinity Preschool, though, that we celebrate today.
Preschool isn’t just a school for ABCs and colors and days of the week.
Preschool is a school of trust.
Preschool
helps teach us that relationships are sustained when we can’t see the evidence
of them. My teacher will be at school again on Wednesday, even if I don’t go
Tuesday. Mom and Dad come back to get me, even though I’m crying when they
leave on those September mornings.
Preschool
holds space for things to be the same around us, even as we grow and change too
fast for our own minds to keep up with.
That
school of trust has been a gift to me. There are days, occasionally, when the untrustworthiness
of the world is too much for me, and I stand for a minute outside the chapel
where our preschool children are singing, and they help me to trust God again.
Times when I walk around with the fire inspector, or attend an abuse prevention
training with our teachers for the Preschool and the Sunday School, and the commitment
we’ve made to be people and a community that these children can trust strengthens
my own trust in God, and my hope for our world.
Sometimes
– often, in fact – it is our own commitment to be faithful that God uses to strengthen
our faith and trust in God and one another.
That’s what happened for Hannah, when she made her vow to God and went home full of confidence and assurance long before she had evidence that her longings would be fulfilled.
That’s what happened for Hannah, when she made her vow to God and went home full of confidence and assurance long before she had evidence that her longings would be fulfilled.
That’s
what Jesus is teaching his disciples, when he warns them that even the massive,
stable, most trustworthy stones of the Temple are about to fail them: “Do not
let anyone lead you astray.”
It
is your own commitment to be faithful that will keep you safe in your trust in
God, when earthquakes and wars and famines insist that you cannot and should
not trust.
And
we don’t have to trust in ourselves to make that commitment, or to keep our
faith. Because God’s faithfulness will enable our own.
Just as God supported Hannah’s faith;
just as God’s Spirit brought the disciples through all the turmoil and uncertainty and distress with a faith that reached out from first-century Jerusalem to encourage multitudes and generations and, eventually, you and me.
Just as God supported Hannah’s faith;
just as God’s Spirit brought the disciples through all the turmoil and uncertainty and distress with a faith that reached out from first-century Jerusalem to encourage multitudes and generations and, eventually, you and me.
Your
own commitment, your faithfulness, my own, is what God gives us to sustain our
trust in God when we don’t know how to trust. Our own commitments, like Hannah’s,
are schools for trust.
My commitment to tithing has helped me recognize God’s abundance, and trust that there will always be enough in my household budget. Your commitment to be there for a friend in their illness or need may be the way God helps you to know and feel God’s presence in their life, or in your own. Our Vestry’s commitment to showing up for the life and mission of this congregation is revealing Gods faithfulness at work in our own hearts and minds and lives.
My commitment to tithing has helped me recognize God’s abundance, and trust that there will always be enough in my household budget. Your commitment to be there for a friend in their illness or need may be the way God helps you to know and feel God’s presence in their life, or in your own. Our Vestry’s commitment to showing up for the life and mission of this congregation is revealing Gods faithfulness at work in our own hearts and minds and lives.
So
let the world go on being untrustworthy. God
is faithful, and in the midst of any chaos, God invites us to be faithful, too.
To commit ourselves wholly and deeply, so that God can fill us with trust, and
hope, and the love that reveals God’s faithfulness to our children, our
neighbors, and ourselves, today,
and tomorrow, and forever.
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