Sermon for July 27, 2008

In the Epistle to the Hebrews, faith is famously defined as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The words substance and evidence, both of which sound like things one could measure or present in a court of law are set in contrast with faith and hope, two intangibles. Some days the substance and evidence are enough to keep us going; there are lots of things in our daily lives that we have faith in. We have faith that our cars will start when we need to drive them. We have faith that our English muffins will turn brown when we insert them in a toaster and pull the lever. We have faith that bills will arrive in the mail. If we are lucky, we have faith that someone who cares about us will answer the phone when we need help. That kind of faith is based on our past experience or on the evidence of things we can see with our own eyes.

Yet, even though the majesty and mystery and beauty of the universe are before our eyes every day, our faith in God can be very unsteady. Given the choice between something immensely powerful, but invisible, and a toaster, we’d probably choose the toaster. We would really like to have a more manageable God, something predictable with buttons we can push. Saying “Thy will be done” and really meaning it--most days we don’t want to go there. Faith is just too scary.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The days when faith comes easily, the days when we are willing to put our trust in God, are probably the days when we can trust our own feelings. When we have a more balanced and less self-centered view of things, we can see our relationship with God in its true perspective . Unfortunately, our moods and thoughts are changeable, and what we believe about the world around us and how we experience it are based on our thoughts and our feelings. As Shakespeare said, “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Have you ever been somewhere that you thought was wonderful, where you had the best time of your life--and then had your companion, who was with you the whole time, say, “That was truly awful.” There is no way to explain such a thing other than to understand that we all bring our own personal biases to the lives we live. I am reminded of something else I read somewhere: “You can safely assume that you have created God in your own image if he hates all of the same people you do.” How much is our struggle with faith really a struggle with the way we see God? How often is the way we see God simply a result of our attitude on that particular day? How do we get beyond our attitudes and fears to a place where faith is real?

To me, today’s lessons seem to be about the place where faith comes to rest in the human heart, the place that we experience as home. Home. What images does that word conjure for you? Home is as much a feeling as it is a geographical location, don’t you think? We all know the feeling at the end of a hard day, when we can take off our shoes and settle into a peaceful rest. Our hearts tell us we are completely safe, that no matter what we have endured that day, all is well. That is truly faith, a faith in the presence of God, and our evidence is the rightness we feel, the security, the comfort. When we are in that internal space, we are more likely to hear the still, small voice of God. Paul assures us in today’s lesson from Romans that it isn’t up to us to know how to ask for God’s comfort and his presence. “The Spirit helps us in our weakness” even when we do not know how to ask for help, “how to pray as we ought.” Through the Spirit, God “searches the heart.” Home, then, is the place where my faith invites the Lord to take up residence in my heart.

Psalm 105 speaks of Abraham and his descendants, specifically of his grandson Jacob, and of God’s covenant with Abraham: “To you I will give the land of Canaan.” Remember, Abraham was chosen by God because of his exemplary faith. He passed a test of his faith that I’m pretty sure I would have failed when he prepared to sacrifice his son Isaac upon God’s orders. Just at the last moment, God sends an angel to stay Abraham’s hand. In the lesson from Genesis we have one key part of that very convoluted story of Abraham’s family--the story of how Jacob ends up with four wives (sisters Leah and Rachel and their handmaids) and thus becomes the father of twelve sons. Remember, Jacob is later renamed Israel after he wrestles all night with an angel and doesn’t give in; hence, his twelve sons are the founders of the twelve tribes of Israel. After the years of exile in Egypt and the wilderness, Moses and Joshua lead the descendants of Israel into that Promised Land of Canaan. Their home.

In other parts of the Bible, we are told that Canaan is a beautiful land, a land flowing with milk and honey. Growing up where I did, in a truly beautiful part of Madison County, I believed in Canaan, and I believed I lived there. Children have such a limited view of the world, and they particularize the things they hear about to their own experience. I also remember believing that the small hedge-enclosed park on Main Street in Madison, where the big Christmas tree is lit each year, was the place called Madison Square Garden that I had heard about on TV. My experience of the family I loved and the beautiful landscape that surrounded us convinced me that I lived in the Promised Land. That kind of home is an easy place to love and lay your faith in.

In his famous poem, “The Death of the Hired Man,” Robert Frost says, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” This long narrative poem is really a conversation between a farmer named Warren and his wife Mary. An old man named Silas, who had worked for them off and on over the years, somewhat unreliably, has reappeared unexpectedly and Mary has opened her door to him. Warren is a bit annoyed it seems, but his statement about home being the place where you have to be taken in at least demonstrates that he understands the source of Mary’s kindness. What she says in response to Warren, however, really explains the nature of faith: “I should have called it [home] Something you somehow haven’t to deserve.” We don’t have to deserve or earn God’s love and protection, his presence in our lives; we simply have to believe it is there for us. We have to believe God is the home that always welcomes us. As Paul says resoundingly: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Believing we are never separated from God is the foundation of our faith.

There are two places in the Gospel of Matthew where the Lord mentions a mustard seed. One occasion is in Matthew 17:20, when He says, “For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.” Jesus has a habit of explaining ideas by using familiar things from everyday life. Here he is simply saying, “You don’t have to have a whole lot of faith. You just need a tiny bit of faith to keep you going, and that will be enough. God will meet you more than halfway.” I wonder if the people who heard him say this were scratching their heads and looking at the mountains, as we might very well do here. People have a way of making things harder than they have to be. I sometimes imagine Jesus doing this [strike forehead with heel of hand] in exasperation. He asks for a little bit of faith, and we respond with questions. Lucky for us, he kept trying to get across the good news.

In the parables of today’s selection from Matthew, Jesus compares a mustard seed to the kingdom of heaven, and not just any mustard seed: one that grows into a plant the size of a tree, where birds can make nests in its branches. There is much to ponder here. Several times in the gospels, the Lord says that heaven is not something we have to wait for; instead, the kingdom of heaven is available to us right here, right now. One very specific example of that comes in Luke 17, when the Lord is speaking to the Pharisees: “And when he was demanded of the Pharisees when the kingdom of God should come, he answered them and said, The kingdom of God cometh not with observation. Neither shall they say, Lo here! or Lo, there! for behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” Like faith, heaven is always available to us if we take it to heart. For me, the Lord’s use of the mustard seed in both comparisons is very striking. Faith is like a mustard seed, and so is heaven. That sounds like a simple algebra equation: faith equals mustard seed equals heaven. And those birds who can build nests in the plant that grows from the tiny mustard seed of faith? They show us how to make a home for heaven by faith.
The next parable Jesus gives us about the kingdom brings me even closer to home. He says, “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.” Like the tiny mustard seed, yeast is something that grows and blesses beyond anyone’s wildest expectations. For me, just the smell of yeast bread baking is a hint of heaven. My mother, who passed away eighteen years ago, was the queen of yeast. Really, she was the queen of all baked things, but bread was something that came from her hands nearly every day of my growing up years. Hot rolls, soft loaves, biscuits, corn bread, spoon bread--I know I took those daily gifts for granted, but now I look back on my mother’s baking with amazement. Oh, and she also made the jellies and preserves to go with the bread! All that love, freely given, is the kind of love that builds a home in our hearts, a home that feels like heaven. It is a home that is always with us, even when we are physically removed from our actual geographical homes.

Maybe because we do have a tendency to take the everyday joys and blessings for granted, the Lord goes on to remind us that the kingdom of heaven is a treasure and a pearl of great price. Since it is always within us, always available to us when we turn our attention toward it, heaven is a blessing we can and should avail ourselves of. From my own experience, I know that I find heaven by my willingness to be fully aware of every present moment, to live with gratitude and joy every day. If that sounds a little farfetched to you, just think of all of the days we turn into hell when we dwell in fear, negativity, and useless worry. The Lord has a lot to say about the uselessness of worrying--you know the story about how even the lilies of the field and the birds of the air are cared for and protected by God.

For me, all of this comes back to home and faith and heaven, too, all being wrapped up in a feeling in my heart. I lost my dad fifteen years ago, but every day of my life, I think of both my parents and feel their presence in my heart. I have an ongoing conversation with them, facilitated by faith. If my faith tells me that heaven is in my heart, then that’s where Mama and Daddy are, too.

In a complex and frightening world, we struggle with seeing God in the big picture. When so many things don’t seem to work out the way we hope or expect, our faith falters. That’s when we need to remember that God is not just out in the big picture; he is also in our heart, and he is glad to be there. All we need is a little faith, and he’ll feel right at home.