A Meditation on Matthew 9 and 10
Sunday, June 18, 2017
1.
Several years ago, on a
gorgeous fall afternoon, I baptized Tiffany Smith in the restless surf of the
Pacific. The sun was warm, the sea was
cold. Tiffany was 18 at the time, newly
arrived for her first year at UCSC and the first in her Vallejo family to
attend college of any kind. As she
stepped out to join me, knee deep in the surf, somebody on the beach started
singing
Wade in the water
Wade in the water,
children
Wade in the water
God’s a-gonna trouble
the water!
There was liberation in
the breeze that day, and wonder in the sunlight dancing on the sea. As you probably know by now, I love those
moments, the meeting of earth and heaven in sacrament. Worship as gratitude, as resistance, as
embodiment.
Wade in the water
Wade in the water,
children
Wade in the water
God’s a-gonna trouble
the water!
I can honestly say
there was a certain look in Tiffany’s eye that afternoon, a look that caught me
by surprise, a look that said: “I’m serious about this, dude. This is the moment that changes my life.” And then we baptized her: once in the deep, all
the way down, twice in the deep, all the way down, three times in the love of
God. I told her: “Jesus will never let
you go, Tiffany.” And she made eye
contact again, no words, just a look that said again: “This is the moment that
changes my life.”
Soon, Tiffany was swept
up in your many arms, dried off in bright towels and celebrated among us as a
gift from God. In no time she was
meeting regularly with our high school youth group and singing in our gospel
choir. About a year later, she visited
in my office and told me that she was transitioning, female to male, and that
she cherished the church’s blessing and love on that remarkable journey of
faith. She was nervous that day, in my
office, but resolute. Determined.
Throughout that
journey, from Tiffany to Taj, Taj continued preaching and growing here at
church and continued agitating on campus for racial justice and queer visibility. He taught us what faith and integrity are all
about, showed us what they look like in a human life. Along the way, he challenged many of us to
think about our own transitions, what it means to embrace the evolving image of
God in our own lives, and how Jesus calls us to radical trust.
Because, when you think
about it, we’re all in transition, in one way or another, all the time. A PhD program or an undergraduate degree. Launching a new marriage or moving through
divorce. Recovering from cancer or raising
a teenager. Life is all about
transitions. Taj taught many of us to
trust God through the shifting seasons of our lives, through bright days of joy
and confidence, and darker days of unsettling uncertainty. The ground we stand on is vibrating all the
time, he said, cracking and quaking and tossing us about. But God is with us all the way, in every
vibration, on every step of the journey.
Indeed, Taj said to me once, God is the journey itself.
Which is quite a thing
for a young man in transition to say, really.
For Taj to say as his journey took shape, as he faced doubts in his family
and curious looks from friends, as he encountered some Christians who
questioned the morality, the wisdom of the journey he’d chosen. God is the journey itself, Taj would say, the
journey of discovery as a human being comes to embrace his dreams and honor his
passions. And every time Taj’d say
something like that, I’d see the same look in his eye, the same look I saw on
the beach years before, the look that says: “I’m serious about this, you know. This is my life.” Talk about trust. Talk about faith. Talk about courage.
2.
And so we pivot back to
this morning’s reading (Matthew 9:35-10:23).
Jesus and his friends. On the
road. It strikes me this morning that
Jesus is not satisfied to inaugurate the kingdom of heaven alone, by himself,
in acts of singular courage. He’s got
this audacious vision of the kingdom, he’s got this compelling sense of God’s
immediacy in human affairs, in the ebb and flow of ordinary lives. But Jesus is not satisfied to inaugurate the
kingdom alone. He’s always building a
community of sisters and brothers, a community of disciples and seekers—a
community capable of generating courage together. That’s the courage Jesus stakes his life on,
and his ministry on, and his vision on.
So he sends them out in teams. He
sends them out in collaborative partnerships.
He sends them out in communities and churches and choirs and cohorts. To cure the sick and raise the dead and
cleanse the lepers and cast out demons.
To preach and then to enact abundant life for all. Talk about faith. Talk about courage.
You know, for several
years, we’ve included ‘evangelical courage’ among our eight core values here at
Peace. And inevitably ‘evangelical
courage’ makes some of us uneasy, because we’re understandably skeptical of
‘evangelicalism’—a Christian trend that prioritizes individual conversion and
personal salvation above all else. ‘Evangelicals’
can come off as kind of smug and rigid, and sometimes there’s an
anti-intellectual edge in their preaching.
But ‘evangelical courage’ is different.
Here in the UCC, at least, I think it’s altogether different. So let’s talk about how.
‘Evangelical courage’
is driven by Jesus’ conviction—right here in this morning’s text—that “the
kingdom of heaven has come near.”
‘Evangelical courage’ is driven by Jesus’ commitment to living his life
as if it’s true. “The kingdom of heaven
has come near.” Good news! Abundant life! God’s gifts!
You read this text, top to bottom, a couple of times; and you’ll never
find a single word about converting the lost soul or saving the sinking
sinner. Not even a hint. Good news!
Abundant life! God’s gifts! ‘Evangelical courage’ is courage to act in
faith, courage to risk in faith, courage to change our lives if need be,
because “the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
The love of God is here and now, in these villages, in our dreams, in
ordinary time. The grace of God is here
and now, in the ways we touch one another and lift one another and bless one
another. “The kingdom of heaven has come
near.” So don’t wait: live now, love
now.
When I think about
‘evangelical courage’—I think about Taj Smith and his transformation here, and
his commitment to integrity on the way, and his trust in God, and in you and in
me. I think about Taj’ theological
conviction: that God is the journey itself, his journey from Tiffany to Taj;
and my journey from privileged pastor to straight ally; and your journey as an
advocate for inclusion in your neighborhood or workplace or school. If the kingdom of heaven has come near, if
the kingdom of heaven is the ground of all being, if the kingdom of heaven is
the very air that we breath—then God is the journey itself. And that’s where ‘evangelical courage’
begins. Don’t wait, live now, love now.
But even that’s not all
of it. There’s more to ‘evangelical
courage; there’s more to the ‘kingdom of heaven.’ In the same text, in almost the same breath,
Jesus sends disciples into the world to do his work and preach his gospel and
encourage his people. It turns out that
‘evangelical courage’ isn’t the solitary work of a savior or the heroic
achievement of a superhero: it’s the work we do in communities, together; it’s
the capacity for forgiveness and justice we cultivate, together; it’s the
building up of a church, the collaboration of leaders, our commitment to
compassion and celebration. And all this
we do together.
In the long arc of
Matthew’s gospel, and maybe you’ll read it this summer, in the long arc of the
gospel, you might even say that this right here is where the rubber hits the
road. Matthew 9 and 10. This is where the gospel gets real. Jesus and the twelve. Jesus and his own beloved community.
If you’re going to
raise the dead, he seems to say, you’re going to need a community. If you’re going to cast out demons, you’re
going to need a community. If you’re
going to heal broken hearts and challenge oppression and offer alternatives,
you’re going to need a community. “It’s
going to be hard,” he seems to say.
“There’s sure to be conflict, and division, and pain. So live simply. And serve generously. And be as wise as serpents and as innocent as
doves.”
With Jesus, it’s all
about—it’s always about—community, beloved community, a brotherhood, a sisterhood
of courage and compassion risking everything to spread the good news of God’s
love. So don’t be fooled. Everything Jesus believes about mercy,
everything Jesus believes about justice, everything Jesus believes about
nonviolence and generosity and prayer: it all gets embodied in relationships,
in friendships and in a community of believers and seekers and
practitioners. Paul calls it the Body of
Christ. Martin Luther King calls it the
beloved community. Sometimes, you and I
call it church.
