Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43 / Psalm 139
Fifth Sunday After Pentecost / July 17, 2011
This week I was raging at God for leading me to pray for the hungry before every meal. “Keep us ever mindful of those who are hungry today.” I’ve been praying those words since the Food Ministry meeting we had last fall – every time I sit down to eat – keep us ever mindful of those who are hungry today. I was raging at God because not only am I mindful of them, I now go to the grocery store thinking, “Buy one, give one.” Mindful has turned into sitting with the hungry every Thursday hearing their stories and helping them get food. This week I spoke with a single mother who had a decent job, but got fired because she missed work once too often for taking care of her sick child. She’s looking for another job, but in the meantime she may lose her apartment and her child is hungry. Then a woman suffering from disabling pain shared her story. She lives in subsidized housing and receives food stamps. But this month her monthly rent increased and her food stamps decreased while her income remained the same. With each story, I realize that many of us are one or two paychecks away from hunger. And I rage: Why, God? Why are there people right here in this community who are hungry? Why?
This week was especially difficult for me as I also coordinated a presentation on Hispanic ministries for the district clergy meeting. My colleague invited a young lady who is getting ready to start sixth grade to speak to the clergy. This young lady stood in front of the pastors and described her anguish when her father was arrested and put in jail because he did not have a valid driver’s license. He has lived in Burlington more than twenty years and has an expired license that he cannot renew because of our laws. How is he supposed to get to work? For twenty days, as her father sat in jail, this young lady and her family lived in fear – fear that he would be deported back to a country he barely remembers. Fear that the family might lose their home because their father lost his job and his income. And rage at the unfairness of a system that would leave her living in fear. Why, God? Why are families being torn apart in our community? Why?
The truth is most of us have raged at God or have a reason to rage at God. Lord, why did the person I love so dearly have to die? Why is my good friend so sick? Why is this loving relationship broken? Why is this marriage so painful? Why did I lose my job? Why is the world the way it is? Why do I hurt so much? Why is there evil in the world? Why do the weeds get to grow up alongside the wheat? Why are human beings so incredibly fragile?
And our rage often leads us to cry out to God for help or revenge. Our psalmist cries out today: “O that you would kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me... Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord? And do I not loathe those who rise up against you? I hate them with perfect hatred!” (Ps 139:19-22). So we cry out to God: I hate evil, I despise the effects of sin, I can’t stand to see people suffer. Destroy the enemy, O God! O that you would collect and burn all of those weeds today, Lord!
Friends, maybe you’ve never been invited to rage at God. Maybe you’ve never cried out to God with such passion. Maybe you are even horrified that I stand here today complaining to God. And yet, we all complain. We all experience anger and sadness and grief. The thing is, if we rage and cry alone then the enemy wins. If we complain silently, we separate ourselves from the love of God and neighbor. When we isolate ourselves our suffering becomes truly painful. Healing comes when we turn to God, even when we turn to God in anger and hurt and disappointment. Hope comes when we invite God into our deepest suffering.
After all, God knows our suffering. Just look at the cross! On the cross we see the Son of God suffering – experiencing the terror of crucifixion. The horror of being whipped and the humiliation of being stripped; desperate thirst and excruciating pain. From the cross we hear Jesus lament: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” As we gaze at the cross it looks like evil has won, the weeds have strangled the wheat. It is finished.
And yet, it is not finished. It is from the cross that Jesus forgives the soldiers who crucified him and promises that one of the criminals dying with him will be with him in paradise. It is from the cross that Jesus gives his mother over into the care of his beloved disciple. The cross – a symbol of extreme suffering – is also filled with hope and the promise of new life. In the midst of suffering there is forgiveness and the assurance that we are not alone. The cross is not the end, but the beginning. And even as Jesus breathed his last on that Good Friday, we stand in the certain hope of resurrection.
So rage at God. Complain to God. Cry for help. Get all that anger and hurt and disappointment out into the open. God can handle it. God can withstand the worst you can throw at him. And then, listen as God re-narrates the story for you. Yes, the enemy did plant weeds among the wheat while we were all asleep, and yes, the weeds and the wheat will grow up together. The weeds will grow in the same sunlight and draw nutrients from the same soil and rely on the same water as the wheat. Sin and evil are in the world; sin and evil are all around us. But because of the cross they will never have the final word.
Notice several things about our parable. The weeds do not strangle the wheat. The wheat is still able to grow and produce its fruit, despite the weeds. And a day of harvest is coming. On that day the weeds will be bound and burned and the wheat will be collected into the barn. The good seed, the children of the kingdom, are able to grow and prosper despite the sin and evil in the world. We are able to grow and prosper despite the sin and evil in our own lives. And at the end of the age, the Son of Man will send his angels to collect and destroy all the causes of sin and evil, throwing them into the fire. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father.
Our raging connects us to God. It opens the door for us to see God’s abundant goodness. Our complaining provides space for us to experience God’s amazing love. We begin to see that we aren’t going to get clear answers to our questions – and that is okay. God isn’t going to strike down our enemy or take away our pain. But through the cross, through the incredible love poured out at Calvary, our pain is transformed. We are able to lift our eyes beyond the sin and suffering of this world – to see that we will thrive in this world. We are still able to praise God. And we know for certain that the harvest is coming – the day is coming when God will wipe every tear from our eyes, and death and mourning and crying and pain will be no more (Rev 21:4).
It’s time for us as the people of God to reclaim the practice of lament. For years we have overlooked those psalms that rage at God. Even today, our lectionary skipped the verses in Psalm 139 where the psalmist cries out to God in anger. For some reason, we’ve believed our worship of God should always be joyful. In some cases, it feels like we are supposed to leave our pain and suffering and disappointment at the church door as we enter into worship. And yet, sin and suffering are in the world and we bring the weight of the world with us when we enter God’s sanctuary. We need space to lament. A place to rage at God and cry out for help or revenge. A time for God to take all our pain and sorrow and transform it and give it meaning. God will take the worst we can throw at him and bring good out of it. We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).
Faithful lament will lead us back to God. It will not take away the pain we have experienced – that pain will be a part of us until the end of the age. But God will use that pain to make us stronger and more faithful. God will use that pain to help us grow more and more into the likeness of God.
What does it mean for us to be a community that practices lament? What does it mean for us to bring both our hot tears and our abundant joy to God? I think it means we are living life to its fullest, acknowledging the presence of evil in the world, confessing our sins before God and one another, and living into the hope that this is not how it will always be. Then we can praise God in the assurance that the harvest is coming. Thanks be to God!
*****
Faithful lament includes both raging at God and praising God. So in response to a sermon where I’ve done a lot of raging at God, let us sing praise to God. I’ve chosen the hymn, “This is My Father’s World” on page 144 of the hymnal because of the words of the closing verse:
This is my Father’s world, O let me ne’er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King, let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!
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