"Give the Holy Spirit"-Sermon for Proper 12, Luke 11:1-13:
The calls for prayer have been understandably ubiquitous, everywhere and ever-present, in response to the unimaginable loss of life and livelihoods in the still very recent floods. Invitations, sometimes out of desperation, sometimes out of a deeply held faith, invitations have been made from public officials to pastors, on social media and in quiet tear-filled conversations…invitations to pray…to pray for those lost, for those grieving their loved ones who have been lost, prayers for peace in the midst of life’s storms, prayers for understanding the inexplainable, prayers for wisdom to discern how to live, again, how to pick up the pieces strewn all over the place…or maybe even just put one foot in front of the other…a next step in a hopeful direction. And, I have been among those inviting us into prayer, for I believe, I believe with my whole heart in its power and purpose, and I am forever grateful to the great God of Love for the gift of prayer. For, even when we find ourselves feeling entirely at a loss, powerless, groping around in the dark, seeking something to anchor ourselves with…to grasp ahold of as internal floods toss us to and fro…battering us on the rocks of fear and anger and grief and hopelessness and confusion and loneliness…so long as consciousness remains…so long as a word can still be uttered…we always have prayer…thus hope remains.
Though not similar to the scale of loss experienced in the recent floods, I remember a moment in time when I experienced a loss that felt so very heavy, sad and close. I was 25 and had just moved to Virginia to begin seminary. I was already feeling pretty homesick…physically distant from loved ones and home for the first time in my life…when the phone rang. It was a dear friend calling with the heartbreaking news that another one of our closest friends, Will, had died the night before in a car accident. Will had had too much to drink and was driving by himself over the hill between Lamar and Mopac on Windsor in central Austin when he lost control of his car, hit the curb, and flipped his vehicle. I felt so far away, so alone without the support systems and people to turn to that I had just recently left. I was having a hard time breathing. I felt helpless, confused and terribly alone. I wanted to pray but could not find the words…when like an involuntary reflex something written on my bones began to emerge from the deep well of my wounded soul... “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.” I recited the prayer over and over again…until I began to breathe again…until I could pick up the phone and call Will’s parents and cry together…till I could take my next step in a hopeful direction…a step toward life after loss. It was like I had stepped out of the eye-wall of the storm, its most violent and unpredictable part, and into the eye itself where the winds settle and the rains begin to cease. The other side of the storm was still coming…more grief, a funeral, tears, questions and uncertainty to follow…but there was a moment of peace that the prayer…and not just words…but God’s faithful presence that accompanied those words…provided…a supernatural moment of clarity. Hope in the midst, the middle of the storm. The pain did not magically disappear…that takes lots of time…as we learn to live with those we love and have lost in a new way…as we begin remember first the joy of the life we lived together and not the details of the tragedy. But, still, in that prayer, the great healing, God’s promise that love is stronger even than death, that death is more gate than grave…the move from Friday to Sunday…from Good Friday to Easter Sunday…did incrementally begin. In that familiar prayer where God was and is always found and fully present, written on my bones, taught to us by Jesus in today’s gospel lesson…that move, not from life to death, but death to life did begin. In that familiar prayer, I did feel deeply connected to both God and my friend, Will.
While on vacation and in the midst of the news coming from home about the floods…calls from friends pouring in naming those we had personally known and lost…conversations with some of my closest friends whose children lived but saw friends washed away…in that very moment in time…Ashley and I were listening together to the book “The Life Impossible” by Matt Haig. A book which is in part an extended reflection on grief…or better said…reconnecting to life after loss. The narrator and protagonist of the story is named Grace, whose life has become completely numb, joyless and lonely following the loss of a child and then spouse. And, as her own process of healing begins, following an encounter with a loving power called “The Presence”, which I interpreted as the God of love, Grace writes, “The point of desperation is often the point of truth. When things are wrong, we need to reach rock bottom in order for change to happen. We sometimes need to feel trapped in order to find the way out.” And, friends, this is the purpose and point of prayer, especially in times of grief, fear and confusion, to discover or rediscover truth at the point of desperation. For when we recognize that we are trapped in a world full of metaphorical and sometimes literal floods over which we have no control, when we feel like the ground of certainty on which we stand has become utterly unmoored, we are blessedly, blessedly forced to seek the deeper meaning of life…the gifts and truth that transcend our present experiences of sorrow and joy. And, prayer is the very place where such gifts and truth are discovered, as we place what we know to be true and what we don’t, what we fear and what we hope, into the hands of love alone…into God’s hands.
And, in doing so, when we earnestly and honestly enter into prayer, we realize this transcendent truth…that we are connected to something so much greater and larger than ourselves alone…that we are connected to everything that is, has been and will be…we are connected to the living and the dead…we are connected to God…who is our beginning and our end…and all through the bonds of love that bind everything together in perfect harmony…bonds that cannot be broken…for love will never let us go and always, always draws us together. And, in such sure and certain knowledge, we find courage to live with and for each other, those we know and don’t know, those we agree with and don’t agree with, those we see and those we no longer see. For God’s love that binds us together, at all times and in all places, is our certainty, discovered in prayer, with or without words, in the deep and unending wells of each our souls where God chooses gracefully to dwell in time and outside of time. In prayer, our meaning and purpose is found, a life spent with and for each other, even when we don’t know the future or have any control over it.
In the commentary that Jesus provides his followers and each of us after teaching his prayer…the Lord’s Prayer, he concludes not by promising that God answers prayer like a transcendent Santa Claus that gives us every gift on our Christmas wish list. He does not promise that life will be free from grief and loss and confusion and sadness. What Jesus says, what he promises is that those willing to seek after the heart of God in earnest, honest, raw, searching prayer, whether in joy or sorrow, whether in celebration or tragedy, will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. That is God’s own life dwelling in our very being…God’s own love that binds us to God and one another for all time and forever. Thus, God offers connection, relationship, life, and love that transcends this present darkness…that will hold us all together in light perpetual…for at the end of everything…stands love alone from glory to glory.
Grace, the protagonist in “The Life Impossible”, as she heals from her loss, also says, “Life sings and blazes. Even when we are numb to it, when we hide from it, when it is too loud and painful to experience, when we aren’t equipped to feel it – it is there, waiting, to be cherished and protected, ready to give us at least one more blast of beauty before the night.” And, again, prayer provides the power to be deeply connected to all of life, God’s life as it sings and blazes…to courageously see it, feel it…all of it…deeply…the pain and joy…for it is a blessing to have known a sort of love that can cause such great grief…it is a blessing to know a love so great that we can’t imagine living without it…it is a blessing to appreciate the beauty and wonder in the world so much than when it and the people on it are rent asunder we feel it, empathize with it…deeply and personally…and are then drawn to connect with all of it more and more…especially each other…more completely…a life lived more…for and with…each other...to which our prayers always lead…into ever deeper levels of connection.
So, echoing Jesus’ reminder to us today…I say to you…I hope you will seek your own connection with God often, in prayer and with thanksgiving, especially when feeling disconnected…when feeling lost, lonely, confused, and sad. And, if you can’t find the words, remember that Jesus has already taught us the perfect place to begin…the words are already written on our bones…feel free to join me, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.”