The Audacity of Grace
FPC Vandalia 6-28-15 (Ordinary 13/Proper 8 B)
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27; Mark 5:21-43
This week, as I was preparing for worship, the lectionary texts provided me with a perplexing juxtaposition of themes. The Samuel passage is filled with words of lament, of desperation, of grief; the people in the reading from Mark are desperate, as well - Jairus’ daughter is on the verge of death, while the woman in the crowd has nowhere else, no one else to turn to in the midst of her own affliction. As we find ourselves in the midst of history these last few weeks - history as it appears to repeat itself in sad and shameful ways, history being made as landmark decisions are passed, and even the uncertainty of what the history may show for us as a people in future generations in the midst of all these events… perhaps these passages and their sentiments of desperation, grief, lamenting, and, yes… even hope… have something powerful to say for all of us today.
Our reading from Samuel catches the recently crowned king David as he receives the news that the former king, Saul, and his son, Jonathan, are dead. The news is so devastating that David orders a specific song to be taught to the people of Judah. The language in this so powerful that it has influenced our own ways of speaking still today whenever we hear someone saying “Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” We can hear in the words of the lament how painful this loss is for David - Jonathan was his closest friend, his brother and companion. They fought alongside each other, watched out for each other, and truly loved each other - the passage says that Jonathan’s love to David was “passing the love of women.” I can’t imagine the pain that David must have experienced; the words of the lament probably don’t even begin to convey the emotion that David felt.
This kind of devastation, loss, and heartache shows up again in Mark’s gospel, both in Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman. Both are at their wits end when we encounter them in the gospel. Jairus’ daughter was sick and “at the point of death,” and like any loving father, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth - even at the risk of his own status as a religious leader in his community - to find a way to help his little girl. The woman in the crowd had nothing left to lose - she was at a low point in her life, having “endured much under many physicians” for the last twelve years; the very presence of Jesus gave her the opportunity she’d been seeking to find healing where everything else had failed. This woman, who would have been an outcast in her community, both because of her bleeding and because it would have caused her to be unable to bear children, boldly reaches out to Jesus in her desolation and grief.
Yet in the midst of all these desperate and tragic situations, there’s a profound element of grace at work. David’s lament isn’t just for Jonathan, but for Saul as well - despite everything that Saul did to David in his jealousy and rage, the many times that Saul tried to murder David, David mourns for Saul’s death! More than that, David laments Saul’s death and memorializes the greatness of the first king of Israel in song. Saul and Jonathan together were Israel’s glory. They were “swifter than eagles, stronger than lions.” Saul is lifted up for clothing the daughters of Israel in crimson and luxury, putting golden ornaments on their apparel. David could have expressed a great relief at knowing that Saul was no longer a threat, started celebrating with gleeful abandon that he was now the king and that Samuel’s anointing of him was finally confirmed, or simply mourned the loss of Jonathan, his true friend, and Jonathan alone. David shows grace in this situation where we might expect otherwise.
Similarly in the Markan passage, grace is constantly at work, and even in unexpected places - notice that Jairus takes a back seat for a moment in the story while this encounter between Jesus and the hemorrhaging woman takes place. Mark’s account doesn’t tell us what Jairus was doing during this interruption, but when I put myself in his shoes, I’m pretty sure that my response would have been documented because I would have created quite a teachable moment for Christ. Come on, Jesus - my daughter’s dying here! Jairus could have stood there, figuratively staring at his watch, expecting Jesus to hurry up and disregard the power he felt flow through him. Jairus could have expected Jesus to dismiss the woman for who she was after he saw her - she was healed, ‘nuff said! In fact, that’s precisely what the disciples are shown doing. But Jairus isn’t portrayed that way at all; Jairus simply disappears from the picture while Jesus ministers to this one woman.
We see grace at work even in the hemorrhaging woman through her humble honesty. This woman could have just slipped away back into the crowd, taking the healing for what it was and setting out to figure out how to live a brand new life. Yet when Jesus asks the crowd of people who touched him, Mark tells us that the woman “came in fear and trembling, fell down before Jesus, and told him the whole truth.” Those words - “the whole truth” - convey grace in humility. It wasn’t just a confession of “It was me. Sorry for reaching out.” It was complete disclosure of everything that Mark told us about the woman in the previous verses. That kind of vulnerability, that kind of outpouring of all the pain and suffering that she had endured for twelve years; it’s a moment of risk and confession that not only displays grace, but opens up the door for Jesus’ own grace and power to enter into the situation. Because of the grace that the woman shows in her vulnerability, Jesus not only tells her that her faith has made her well, but he calls her “Daughter.” Jesus calls this desolate, isolated, and cast-off woman “Daughter.” And perhaps in part because of the grace that Jairus shows in stepping aside to this moment, Jesus sees no challenge in the announcement from Jairus’ house that the little girl has died; Jesus tells Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.” Jesus returns Jairus’ act of grace to him a hundred-fold and wakes Jairus’ daughter from her sleep.
These moments of grace in the midst of grief are encouraging, to be sure, yet they are also incredibly challenging for us, especially in our environment as Americans and as we reflect on recent events in the last several weeks. These themes are something we strongly need to be reminded of, especially as we work through all of the many things that have happened in the last several weeks. As we’re embroiled in debating and discussing one issue and another, as members in our community simultaneously lament and celebrate over the decisions of the Supreme Court, actions surrounding the Confederate flag and its uses, and even the continued defense of the Affordable Care Act, we find ourselves in an incredibly turbulent time in history. Our world is changing yet again - and how we react to it, how we live into those changes and still claim our identity as followers of Christ… it’s a matter that each of us will continue to wrestle with and work out with fear and trembling.
But the one thing that these passages make me ask: whether we feel that we’re on the “winning” side or the “losing” side, where is our sense and experience of grace today? Where are the dignity of David, the humility of Jairus, and the open-ness of the woman Jesus healed? Are we so elated at a victory that we neglect to recognize the grief that others may feel in this moment, to step aside and let their feelings be given the worth and respect that they deserve, or even to grieve with them? Are we so absorbed in our own grief and frustration at the current situation that we can’t step back even enough to recognize and give some space for grace to be at work in the blessings that others have been given to receive dignity and recognition where none had been given before? What are we doing, as members of the body of Christ, to create open spaces for Christ’s grace to become manifest? Are we keeping our eyes open for those opportunities to be agents of healing, of humility, of open-ness and genuine self-disclosure?
This is my encouragement to you today, brothers and sisters - relying on the grace of Christ and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we can let these passages help to serve as a reminder of how we as Christians can live our lives. We can remember that, even though we may disagree with each other, we are still brothers and sisters together in Christ, fellow creations of God the Father. Let us strive to live in the example of Christ, who, as Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, was generous to the point that “though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor so that by his poverty you might become rich.” Let us live in the riches of the grace of Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit and to the glory of God the Father. Amen.
2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27; Mark 5:21-43
The Audacity of Grace
This week, as I was preparing for worship, the lectionary texts provided me with a perplexing juxtaposition of themes. The Samuel passage is filled with words of lament, of desperation, of grief; the people in the reading from Mark are desperate, as well - Jairus’ daughter is on the verge of death, while the woman in the crowd has nowhere else, no one else to turn to in the midst of her own affliction. As we find ourselves in the midst of history these last few weeks - history as it appears to repeat itself in sad and shameful ways, history being made as landmark decisions are passed, and even the uncertainty of what the history may show for us as a people in future generations in the midst of all these events… perhaps these passages and their sentiments of desperation, grief, lamenting, and, yes… even hope… have something powerful to say for all of us today.
Our reading from Samuel catches the recently crowned king David as he receives the news that the former king, Saul, and his son, Jonathan, are dead. The news is so devastating that David orders a specific song to be taught to the people of Judah. The language in this so powerful that it has influenced our own ways of speaking still today whenever we hear someone saying “Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” We can hear in the words of the lament how painful this loss is for David - Jonathan was his closest friend, his brother and companion. They fought alongside each other, watched out for each other, and truly loved each other - the passage says that Jonathan’s love to David was “passing the love of women.” I can’t imagine the pain that David must have experienced; the words of the lament probably don’t even begin to convey the emotion that David felt.
This kind of devastation, loss, and heartache shows up again in Mark’s gospel, both in Jairus and the hemorrhaging woman. Both are at their wits end when we encounter them in the gospel. Jairus’ daughter was sick and “at the point of death,” and like any loving father, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth - even at the risk of his own status as a religious leader in his community - to find a way to help his little girl. The woman in the crowd had nothing left to lose - she was at a low point in her life, having “endured much under many physicians” for the last twelve years; the very presence of Jesus gave her the opportunity she’d been seeking to find healing where everything else had failed. This woman, who would have been an outcast in her community, both because of her bleeding and because it would have caused her to be unable to bear children, boldly reaches out to Jesus in her desolation and grief.
Yet in the midst of all these desperate and tragic situations, there’s a profound element of grace at work. David’s lament isn’t just for Jonathan, but for Saul as well - despite everything that Saul did to David in his jealousy and rage, the many times that Saul tried to murder David, David mourns for Saul’s death! More than that, David laments Saul’s death and memorializes the greatness of the first king of Israel in song. Saul and Jonathan together were Israel’s glory. They were “swifter than eagles, stronger than lions.” Saul is lifted up for clothing the daughters of Israel in crimson and luxury, putting golden ornaments on their apparel. David could have expressed a great relief at knowing that Saul was no longer a threat, started celebrating with gleeful abandon that he was now the king and that Samuel’s anointing of him was finally confirmed, or simply mourned the loss of Jonathan, his true friend, and Jonathan alone. David shows grace in this situation where we might expect otherwise.
Similarly in the Markan passage, grace is constantly at work, and even in unexpected places - notice that Jairus takes a back seat for a moment in the story while this encounter between Jesus and the hemorrhaging woman takes place. Mark’s account doesn’t tell us what Jairus was doing during this interruption, but when I put myself in his shoes, I’m pretty sure that my response would have been documented because I would have created quite a teachable moment for Christ. Come on, Jesus - my daughter’s dying here! Jairus could have stood there, figuratively staring at his watch, expecting Jesus to hurry up and disregard the power he felt flow through him. Jairus could have expected Jesus to dismiss the woman for who she was after he saw her - she was healed, ‘nuff said! In fact, that’s precisely what the disciples are shown doing. But Jairus isn’t portrayed that way at all; Jairus simply disappears from the picture while Jesus ministers to this one woman.
We see grace at work even in the hemorrhaging woman through her humble honesty. This woman could have just slipped away back into the crowd, taking the healing for what it was and setting out to figure out how to live a brand new life. Yet when Jesus asks the crowd of people who touched him, Mark tells us that the woman “came in fear and trembling, fell down before Jesus, and told him the whole truth.” Those words - “the whole truth” - convey grace in humility. It wasn’t just a confession of “It was me. Sorry for reaching out.” It was complete disclosure of everything that Mark told us about the woman in the previous verses. That kind of vulnerability, that kind of outpouring of all the pain and suffering that she had endured for twelve years; it’s a moment of risk and confession that not only displays grace, but opens up the door for Jesus’ own grace and power to enter into the situation. Because of the grace that the woman shows in her vulnerability, Jesus not only tells her that her faith has made her well, but he calls her “Daughter.” Jesus calls this desolate, isolated, and cast-off woman “Daughter.” And perhaps in part because of the grace that Jairus shows in stepping aside to this moment, Jesus sees no challenge in the announcement from Jairus’ house that the little girl has died; Jesus tells Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.” Jesus returns Jairus’ act of grace to him a hundred-fold and wakes Jairus’ daughter from her sleep.
These moments of grace in the midst of grief are encouraging, to be sure, yet they are also incredibly challenging for us, especially in our environment as Americans and as we reflect on recent events in the last several weeks. These themes are something we strongly need to be reminded of, especially as we work through all of the many things that have happened in the last several weeks. As we’re embroiled in debating and discussing one issue and another, as members in our community simultaneously lament and celebrate over the decisions of the Supreme Court, actions surrounding the Confederate flag and its uses, and even the continued defense of the Affordable Care Act, we find ourselves in an incredibly turbulent time in history. Our world is changing yet again - and how we react to it, how we live into those changes and still claim our identity as followers of Christ… it’s a matter that each of us will continue to wrestle with and work out with fear and trembling.
But the one thing that these passages make me ask: whether we feel that we’re on the “winning” side or the “losing” side, where is our sense and experience of grace today? Where are the dignity of David, the humility of Jairus, and the open-ness of the woman Jesus healed? Are we so elated at a victory that we neglect to recognize the grief that others may feel in this moment, to step aside and let their feelings be given the worth and respect that they deserve, or even to grieve with them? Are we so absorbed in our own grief and frustration at the current situation that we can’t step back even enough to recognize and give some space for grace to be at work in the blessings that others have been given to receive dignity and recognition where none had been given before? What are we doing, as members of the body of Christ, to create open spaces for Christ’s grace to become manifest? Are we keeping our eyes open for those opportunities to be agents of healing, of humility, of open-ness and genuine self-disclosure?
This is my encouragement to you today, brothers and sisters - relying on the grace of Christ and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we can let these passages help to serve as a reminder of how we as Christians can live our lives. We can remember that, even though we may disagree with each other, we are still brothers and sisters together in Christ, fellow creations of God the Father. Let us strive to live in the example of Christ, who, as Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, was generous to the point that “though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor so that by his poverty you might become rich.” Let us live in the riches of the grace of Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit and to the glory of God the Father. Amen.
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