Homily for Proper 14, Year A, 2014
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves
Texts: Romans 7:15-25, Matthew 25-30
“Come unto me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens
and I will give you rest.”
Since last December, I have made a conscious effort to be a
healthier person. When I sprained my ankle just before Christmas, I realized
that I was not going to get better without better self-care. And so I undertook
seriously, what I had previously only committed to half-heartedly, and made
regular exercise a priority. Now, those who know me well know that reading has
always really been my sport, and when I figured I needed a bit more cardiovascular
activity then what was required to turn a page, I picked up my guitar and let
the strumming count for my cardio activity that week. Obviously, I needed a wakeup call. The problem is, though, that I really don’t
like exercise. Sure, I feel great after I have done it, but perhaps that is one
of God’s little tricks he plays on us, because motivation is actually needed
before we do something, not after the task is completed! So, I plug away. I try to do my daily
exercise, and for the most part I am feeling better, but it is hard, and it is
not really what I want to be doing with my time. It is amazing how often I hear that
Lumberjack breakfast at Hot Stacks calling my name, and that is really where I
want to be!
Like St. Paul, I have a problem. I know what I ought to do, what I really
should do, and in my heart of hearts I really want to do, but then I turn and
do the wrong thing, the thing I ought not to do, the thing in my heart that I
actually hate. I suspect I am not alone
on this journey, indeed, if I am not mistaken, it is part of the human
condition and we are all part of that same race. Like St. Paul, we do not understand our own
actions. We know what is good, and yet
how often do we choose what is not so good.
And then we rationalize our choice.
The other day when I was on the treadmill, I had to pause it and tie my
shoe. I accidentally reset it and was
trying to figure out how to get it back, and then just gave up. “Oh well,” I said to myself, “that’s pretty
good, I’ll make it up tomorrow.” And
then tomorrow gets busy, and you know the rest.
I am using the example of exercise because for me, it is the
thing that is good for me, but the thing I am tempted to continually to
forsake. Each one of us will know what
our temptations are. Each one of us will
have our “oughts” and “ought nots” that we struggle with. And each one of us will think from
time-to-time that we have slain our dragon, that we have become strong enough
under our own might to fight off that beast of temptation, and yet, the moment
our guard is down, we find ourselves veering off that good road, and wandering
down that familiar side street of temptation.
The truth is, we are actually wired to do the right thing.
We are wired for goodness. We are created in the image and likeness of God. God
looked at all he created and said “it is good!”
As human beings we have an intrinsic sense of the natural law of right
and wrong. We know what is best for us both as individuals and as a
community. We may argue about the
details of how to bring about goodness in the world, but we are wired to strive
toward the good. This is what St. Paul
is talking about when he says that we know the good we ought to do. There is both a natural revealed law of right
and wrong, and in the Commandments of the Moral Law of the Old Testament we are
taught right and wrong. The natural moral law and the revealed moral law have
one and the same font, and that is God.
Why then, knowing good from evil in our heads and perhaps
even in our hearts, why, being wired for the good, do we struggle against it
and often choose what is not best for us?
Somewhere along the line, something short-circuited. Something interfered with the wiring. A bug got into the programming. Somewhere along the line, the creation
confused itself with the creator, and placed itself at the centre of the
universe, in place of the one to whom that honour is truly due. Somewhere along the line, human beings, in extraordinary
hubris mistook themselves for gods and forgot the one true God. When we become gods and cast out the one true
God we take to ourselves the role of rule maker, and the role of
rule-breaker. We place our own temporal
and earthly desires and wants above the eternal good and twist our moral framework
to accommodate our unhealthy longings.
And all the while, we know down deep inside something is wrong. We know
the good we ought to be choosing, and yet, we choose it not. What we desire
temporally has become so important that we have lost sight of things
eternal. But deep down the struggle is
there, and from time-to-time pangs of conscience will attack, and yet we push
away and bury them. It is often not until we reach a crisis, and we know we
cannot go on rationalizing, seeking after earthly treats that never fill the
longing soul, that we know something has to give. The weight of juggling all
our conflicting rationalizations of our behaviour to ourselves, and to others,
has become too heavy, and what are we do?
“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” Jesus says, “for
I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my
yoke is easy and my burden is light.” The
truth is, we know that in our moment of struggle, when the burden is hard, when
the world is confusing, when we are hiding from ourselves and others that the
answer really is a simple one: turn to Christ.
And yet, I want to carry that load. I want to prove that I can bear the
burdens. I want to keep all the balls in the air. Yet, I know deep down that I cannot. But here is the irony: the burden sometimes is
in laying down the load, rather than continuing to carry it, or even taking on
more. It is harder to lay down the load, to say, “I can’t do it on my own”, and
“I need someone else to carry it for awhile”. These are the truly hard things
to say, and they are the truly hard things to do. But they are the right thing.
Why? Because, in laying down your load before Christ you allow yourself to be
re-wired, to be re-ordered, to be restored, refreshed, recreated. In laying down your burden before Christ you
take yourself out of the centre of the universe and recognize that that is God’s
place, and indeed, that God never left it when you tried to place yourself
there.
And thus, the burden we pick up in Christ is an easy burden.
Note carefully that Jesus still calls it a burden. It is not that the Christian
life is without challenge, or work, or trial, but it is a burden that is carried
by Christ, and not ourselves alone. Last
week we spoke about some of those challenges that come from following Jesus,
from taking up his yoke, and we heard that they are not easy at all, and yet
nothing beats doing the right thing, and God will empower us with his strength on
the journey. “Learn from me,” he says, “For I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls”.
Is this not what St. Paul says he is longing for when he talks about the
war going on within him, within all of us?
Is this not what we all long for – peace in our souls? And yet we turn not to Christ because we are
afraid of being judged for all our wrongs, for our mistakes, for the war that
wages within us. But what does Jesus say
to all that? Do not fear, I will not judge you.
His words are simple, he is gentle, and he says “Come to me all that are
weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.” That is why St. Paul, at the conclusion of
his lament about the war that wages within us, can cry “but thanks be to God,
who has given us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
As each of us face the struggles that challenge us, and as we
set out, attempting to do the right thing, and inevitably, under the weakness
of our own strength fall short of the mark, may we be given grace to hand over
our challenges, our weaknesses, our hopes and our failures to the one who will truly
give us peace, and find victory in him, Jesus Christ our Lord.
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