“Sighs Too Deep for Words”
Romans 8:26-39
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
8/10/14
This much-quoted passage from Paul to the Romans is, at the
same time, one of the most encouraging and one of the most disturbing passages
in the Bible. It is encouraging because it tells us that nothing can undermine
God’s Love. It is disturbing because it also tells us that we will never get a
break from the things that try to do so.
This was the sermon text for last week, but we never made
it to the text or the sermon. And that’s okay. Kailee Amburgey sang all the
sermon we needed.
For the benefit of those who were not here, Kailee sang the
anthem, and the lyrics of her song acknowledged the very weaknesses and
sufferings of which Paul writes. And as she sang, I peeked around the sides of
the pulpit and into the pews, and over the top into the balcony. I watched the faces
listen, and I wish everyone could have seen what I saw. That young lady held this
congregation in the palm of her hand. Everyone was rapt in her voice, in the
words, and in a melody that had the courageous grace not to leave us in the neat and tidy resolution of some bright
major key, like Maria Von Trapp singing about how good she feels when she just
remembers her “Favorite Things.”
It was an achingly beautiful sight, to see a group people swept
up in a moment like that. And I do mean swept.
There was an obvious, physical, spiritual, and emotional lean toward the voice
of the Spirit as it came through the voice of one of our own young people. It
was like watching a field of wheat bend in one direction beneath the gentle
push of the wind. For me, it became a vivid witness to the deep, wordless
sighs, the intercession of the Spirit for a people and for a world hungering
and thirsting for peace.
I felt the weariness of so many loved ones passing away in
so short a time. I felt the hardships of endless wars and violence doing so
much damage to human life, to animals and plants, to cultures and ecosystems. I
felt the distress of anxiety over the relentless barrage of changes in our
society, and even changes in our own bodies as they grow, and as they age. And
while such changes are not only inevitable, many of them have the potential to
reveal great blessing. Still, before all of these things, many of us feel a
perilous nakedness.
After having just helped my parents move out of their house
of 44 years, a move precipitated by increasingly evident health concerns, I
felt these things very personally. And though I may have projected my feelings
onto you to some extent, as your pastor, I did feel that “eager longing” on
your faces, and on your collective face. I still do.
Think about it: We have not had a summer slowdown, have we? Five funerals in three weeks have meant
one reception after another for the ladies of CL&M and Shalom Circle. It
has meant the choir coming back time after time to rehearse and to sing at the
services. It has meant our property guys coming back over and over to run the
elevator and give directions to folks who have never been here before. The nominating
committee has struggled to get a slate of officers together. Missions, as
always, scrambles to get people and resources together to offer hospitality to
neighbors in need. The Administration and the Finance folks have had to get
creative to meet the shifting realities of staff and aging equipment. Members
of Christian Education pulled off another Bible School. And the whole Session
is talking and praying about significant changes in denominational policies. In
the midst of these things we have barely had time to catch our breath.
After Kailee sang, and after watching what I interpreted as
the visible turn and press of humanity toward the holy utterance of “sighs too
deep for words,” I stood up to read Paul’s words to the Romans, and all of that
hit me all at once. And I just came uncorked.* While it was rather embarrassing
for me, and for some of you, perhaps, I have decided to credit that moment to the
ever-prayerful Spirit. I decided that it was God’s way of saying, “Allen, leave
the sermon alone. I’ve read it, you know, and, well, bless your heart, it just
won’t add a thing to what Kailee and I just offered. It’s communion Sunday. Feed
my sheep.”
The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, enacts the proclamation
that “nothing [but nothing] can separate us from the Love of God in Christ
Jesus our Lord.” Even when we face the worst that the world can throw at us, says
Paul, we can still love as we are loved. We can still love ourselves and others
the way Jesus loves even the soldiers who mindlessly follow heartless orders
and crucify him. We can still love ourselves and others the way Jesus loves
even the disciples who abandon him. That is
the love from which we cannot be separated.
You and I, we are equal parts recipients and bearers of the
Love that is creating and redeeming the universe. The ministry of this church
over the last few weeks has been to bear that Love for others, to serve as a
gracious reminder of God’s faithful presence. I am more grateful than I can say
that we really do have “Ministry Teams” and not mere committees.
I wish I could tell you that things will get easier. And
who knows, we may plateau for a little while. If we are the body of Christ,
however, we will keep recognizing the “sufferings of the present time.” Yet
even that is grace. God does not cause suffering to make some point. God makes
us aware of suffering because God trusts us
to share generously the unhindered Love that we receive so gratefully.
One thing to remember: There really is no difference
between receiving and sharing God’s Love. The experience of Love always happens
in the midst of a transfer, a transfer unburdened by any need for justification
or compensation. Still, there are times when, like Jesus, we need to head for a
quiet, lonely place where we can sit in the presence of God simply to receive,
to hear those “sighs too deep for words.” How can we share Love in the midst of someone else’s turmoil if we haven’t
learned to receive it in the midst of
our own?
I invite you to such a place. I am going to sit, and Jeri
is going to play three times through a familiar hymn.
Be still. Breathe. Listen. And may the stubborn Love of God
renew you with peace and hope.
*At the previous week’s worship service, the accumulated
emotions of the day and of recent days became overwhelming. Unable to speak
clearly, I asked the congregation if we could just move on to Communion. They
graciously agreed. I am grateful to them for their understanding and patience.
AH
No comments:
Post a Comment