My sermon for today, on Hebrews 4:12-16 and Mark 10:17-31
I love reading. I was
brought up in a household that was full of books – those were the days, some of
you won’t really remember this, those were the days before we could access so
many things on a screen, and books were where we went for information and for
enjoyment.
I loved nothing better
than losing myself in a book – it could be fiction or non-fiction, I was as
eager to know about the world we lived in, as to travel into other worlds. Even
now, there are few things I enjoy more than having a few hours or, better, a few
days, with nothing to do but read.
I love losing myself in a
book.
But even more than that, I
love finding myself in a book.
As a child I read the
Narnia books, over and over again, and these were the first stories that God
spoke to me through, though I didn’t realise it was God speaking then. I found
myself in Jill Pole, a girl who didn’t quite fit in the world she lived in, who
tumbled into Narnia and was given a task to do, which she almost messed up
because she got distracted, but she made it with the help of her friends and with
Aslan’s guidance.
I was probably approaching
20 when I first read Pride and Prejudice, another story I’ve read many times.
My sisters and I all argue over which of the Bennet girls we are most like –
but now I find myself in Charlotte Lucas, though with a twist – to find her way
in life, Charlotte had to marry a vicar, the dreadful Mr Collins. I am so much
more fortunate – I don’t have to marry Mr Collins, I get to be the vicar!
And sometimes I find myself
in unexpected stories. I’ve just finished reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson,
the story of an elderly preacher, in the 1950s, looking back over his life
which spanned back to the late 19th century. A world away from my
life, and yet time and time again I heard echoes of myself in his reflections on
his life.
Stories help us make sense
of the world, and our place in the world.
In the Bible we find a
collection of stories, stories others have told one another to make sense of
the world as they navigated their way through it. But we find more than
that. All scripture, Paul told Timothy,
is God-breathed. These are stories that have been inhabited by the Spirit, in
their telling and re-telling, in their writing and rewriting, in their reading
and re-reading. These are the stories that God has gifted us to help us make
sense of the world. These are the stories in which we find God. And these are
the stories in which God finds us.
I have studied scripture
for years. It is one of the declarations I made at my ordination as a priest,
to be a diligent minister of God’s word. I have shelves of books to help me to
do this, to help me to understand scripture in its social and historical context.
I have made an attempt to learn the biblical languages of Greek and Hebrew, to
better understand these texts. All of these are important, and I will continue with
these studies.
But just as important as
my academic study of God’s word is the lesson I learnt from my childhood
reading, of losing myself and finding myself in the story.
Because, so often, it is
in these moments that God word cuts through into our lives.
There are certain stories
in Scripture that I come back to again and again, certain characters that I see
myself in.
When I have a decision to
make, I walk alongside Gideon, always checking and checking again with God where
God was leading him.
When I am waiting, I wait
with Sarah, who waited and waited again, until God’s blessing came to her and
Abraham.
When I am worried, I go to
the mountainside and sit down with the crowd listening to Jesus, to the words
that John opened up for us last week, as Jesus comforts and comforts again
those who are anxious.
As I come to today’s Gospel
reading I take time to reflect, to see if I can find myself in this story.
Jesus had been teaching a
crowd of people that day, and when we encounter him in our Gospel reading he is
just setting off to the next thing, when the young man comes to speak to him. Perhaps
I’m in the crowd who was there listening – there are days when I might be at
the front of the crowd, eager to hear every word Jesus has to say, and then
there are days when I might be lingering at the edges, only half listening. Wherever
I am, I can overhear the young man as he comes to ask his question of Jesus.
Or maybe I am the man
asking the question. I do ask a lot of questions of God. I wonder, if I could
ask any question of God, what question would I ask? I’ve got a list. I’m not
sure I’d frame my question in quite the same way this young man does, but I
have been thinking a lot recently about what it means to live a good life. I do
want to know what Jesus has to tell me about this, how does Jesus say I should
live my life. And so maybe in this story I do see something of myself in this
man, asking the good teacher how I should live and receive a blessing from God.
Am I surprised that Jesus
answers the question with another question? Or that he goes on to say that the
answer is obvious, as if I need not have asked in the first place? As the
reader standing outside, we know that this is just so typical of Jesus, we see
him often talking at a tangent to the expectations of those who come to him.
But I’m in the story now, how do I react? I think I’d probably react just as
this man did, to come back and try and justify myself.
And Jesus’s next words are
hard for him to hear. “You have plenty. Get rid of it, and give it to those who
need it more than you do.” As I hear these words I think of the many books I
have now, lining the walls of my living room. And the clothes, and the shoes,
and the bags. I don’t consider myself rich, but then I think of all these
things I have at home. And then I think of the home I have, safe and warm, food
in the cupboards, with running water and a flushing toilet. I may not think of
these things as making me rich, and yet when I stop to think of those who don’t
have these, I begin to realise just how rich I am.
And of course riches come
in other ways than possessions. What time do I have and how do I use it? Could I
use some of my time to help someone who is struggling? And what about influence?
Do I take the opportunities I have to speak up for others? I can’t change the
world. But is there a small corner of the world that I can use my money, my
time, my influence, to change? And if I change the world in this small corner, I
have chanced the world, even just a little.
The man in the story is
unhappy with how Jesus answers him, he doesn’t have another comeback but
instead he walks away. I wonder if the man knew how Jesus felt about him, that Jesus
loved this bold, questioning young man. Do I hear these words for myself, as I
walk away? Do I know that Jesus loves me? Do I need to hear this again today?
There is another group of people
in this scene, a group who have heard a lot of Jesus’s teaching and are still confused.
I definitely find myself in the disciples.
They have found Jesus’s
words just as challenging as the young man. God’s standards are so high, who
can be saved? “For God, all things are possible” Jesus tells them. This phrase echoes
the words that the angel said to Mary, when announcing the birth of Jesus. Mary’s
response was humble – “I’m God’s servant, let it be to me according to God’s
word.” Peter’s response is not quite so humble. “Don’t you realise what we’ve
all given up for you?”
Maybe you can guess who I’m
more like, in these two moments. I aspire to Mary’s humility and quiet
acceptance of God’s will, but my prayers echo Peter far more – I talk to God as
if God doesn’t get it and I need to explain things to God – I hear Peter here asking
to be seen, and I hear myself asking the same.
Jesus answers him “I see
you. I see all that you do for me, and I see all that is ahead of you as well –
amazing things, and hard things too.” It’s not reassuring exactly, but it is
real. It’s enough, in the moment, to keep Peter going. And it’s enough, in the
moment, to keep me going.
And now at the end, I step
out of the story and look back from here today. Because from outside the story
I can see what Peter and the disciples, what the rich young man and the crowd, can’t
see. I can see that the next few days ahead will take them to Jerusalem – to a
triumphal entry with the crowds singing Hosanna, to broken hearts as Jesus is
executed, to hope beyond all hope as Jesus rises, bringing the salvation he
promised to Peter and to us all. I can see what it will cost Jesus to make all
this possible.
In a few minutes we will
gather round the table of Christ, where we remember this. Because this is not just Peter’s story, or
the rich young man’s story. This is our story too. The record in scripture
finishes at the end of the book of Revelation, but the story goes on. Down
through the centuries the Spirit has been working on earth, bringing about God’s
Kingdom, and bringing Jesus’s promise of salvation to each generation.
We can find God in the
stories of scripture. We can listen to Jesus with the crowd, we can ask
questions like the young man, we can get confused like the disciples. And
through these stories God can find us just where we are, with a word that cuts
to the heart of things. Jesus sees us, he hears us, he loves us, he saves us.
And so we approach God
with boldness, and so we receive God’s mercy and grace to sustain us in all our
needs.
