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Rev. Stuelpe Gibbs
June 21, 2009
“Brave Heart: A Reflection in Courage”
II Corinthians 6:1-13
I recently saw the 1942 version of “Bambi.” In that version, there is a narrator who talks about what happens in springtime. He says that nearly everyone gets twitterpated in springtime. That word isn’t often used, but it is the word that perhaps best captures that soaring feeling when you are unable to think and butterflies fill your stomach. Twitterpated is the description of falling in love. If you remember this historic animated film, Thumper meets a beautiful rabbit after swearing that he would never be twitterpated. The lovely rabbit would come near him, and his foot would thump, thump, thump uncontrollably. The thumping was the motion of love and springtime had reached him too.
I use that term twitterpated in my own head when I’m working with a couple. One great joy of pastoral ministry is the journey you go on with couples through the premarital counseling, the wedding, and often in the friendship that forms after the ceremony. In the time spent with the couple, you get to see firsthand, love that is about ready to take the next step of commitment. It is a big step beyond twitterpation, but now and again you still see it. When the couple talks about how they met or a special moment they’ve shared, you can almost see their rabbit feet thump, thump, thumping away!
I see a lot of “Thumper” in one of the couples I’m working with right now. There is a palpable excitement about each other, but in the beginning of their journey, that was not the case. (This story is told by permission). They met at camp as camp counselors. They became friends and wrote letters, but the young man really wanted to date this girl.
So the young man set about trying to court her. He would call. She wouldn’t answer. He would call, and she would answer but would cut the conversation short. He thinks she even hung up on him once. He would come to visit mutual friends in Bloomington, and she would find a way to not see him. Three years of rejection, and he calmly made phone calls now and again, sent her letters, and remained steadfast. I had to wonder if this was a healthy response to outright rejection, and we talked about it. He simply had this to say, “I wanted her to know love. If she wanted to turn it down, I wanted her to have to say it.”
The young woman admitted that she had rejected him. She said she was rude and did enough rude things that he should have said mean things, gotten angry, or at the very least stopped being her friend. His purpose was love, and for a young woman who had known too much loss and too much pain for her age, this offering of love invited her into something new. She was invited into new hope and a new way of being. Through these three years she came face to face with the good news of Christ known through a young man whom she initially thought annoying. The young man opened wide his heart and invited her to do the same.
That’s how our scripture ends today. Hear the last verse as said by Paul to the church at Corinth, “Open wide your heart as I am opening mine to you.” It is an invitation found in a seemingly very passionate letter to the church of Corinth. Today, that scripture offers us, through the power of God, the same invitation. Scripture has a way of extending its relevance through the centuries. The invitation becomes a little more clear when we look into its details.
A couple of weeks ago, Jimmy preached on an Epistle and mentioned that Paul has been a very contentious figure for Christians over the centuries. Through the centuries, faithful people have had mixed feelings about him and his writing, but we see something quite beautiful with Paul in these scriptures. In the first several verses, Paul pours out his heart and makes himself very vulnerable; he describes what he has been willing to endure. The way he does it through most of this morning’s scripture might seem a bit braggadocios. He seems to make a long list of all the ways he’s loved, endured, and served, but that is the style of the time. Strangely enough, that style of speech in the first century was a way of drawing near to a group and offering one’s self to the other or group.
It is an interesting time for Paul to offer himself. It is a strange time for him to extend himself to the members of the church at Corinth and invite them to open wide their hearts. The words we’ve read come as Paul and this community of people reach yet another difficult point in their relationship. Paul came into this community and helped form this church. Other scriptures give us the impression that there was a deep love among the members of the church, including Paul. As is part of learning to live and love in community, conflicts arose. They turned to Paul for counsel, and Paul offered it through letters such as the letter of I Corinthians. Then there were some hurtful times. There were accusations, distrust, and distance. That, too, is often part of loving. Paul and the Corinthian church shared in a very painful face-to-face visit and a quite bold letter (only referenced in our Bible) where Paul names the issues between them and calls them to task. It is at this point in the relationship that we read this morning’s scripture. The relationship is still very rocky.
Based on what Paul says, it seems that the church still questions his authenticity and authority when it comes to Christian ministry and witness. These loved ones challenge his reputation, calling, and his relationships; his toes have been more than stepped on. It would be easy to be angry, at the very least embarrassed and indignant, or perhaps hurt and defeated.
I don’t think it a far reach to say that we can meet Paul in this moment. Whether it is in the community in which we love at the Farmer’s market, a gas station, or with the people we know and love the best, interactions with people can have their moments. Most of us can think of a time, place, or situation where we have been challenged, embarrassed, or disregarded. It can happen in a single interaction with someone. It can happen with family and friends. It can happen in a moment.
A friend of mine from years ago shared this story with me a couple days ago. He started with, “I’m embarrassed to tell you this. My sister and I were at Arby’s with my nephews. We stood up to leave and she reached to get a piece of trash on the table. My nephew shot out toward the door. We turned to find him trying to push it open. As we made our way toward him, a woman came and took his hand and moved him away from the door. She returned him to us with a “click, click, clicking” of her tongue and a shaking of her head. When she sat down and her child asked what she was doing, she said that she had to keep the little boy safe from running into the street because some parents don’t watch their kids at all.”
My friend said that something arose in him and before he knew it, he went over to the lady and told her that there isn’t a parent alive who hasn’t had to race to catch up with their little one. He told her that they were indeed watching the child, and there was no need to be so rude. The situation escalated and words were exchanged. My friend said in that moment as he stared at the children’s faces all around, he realized that he had met her affront with another, and he needed to back out. He attempted to apologize, but it was not helpful. My friend said, “I felt like I had to protect my sister, her work as a mother, and combat this woman’s rudeness.” He also mentioned that he went home and couldn’t get it out of his mind. He is not one to be too sensitive, and yet it kept him awake for a while that night.
I think there is an innate sense to want what we sense as justice. If we are created in the image of God, then the internal desire for justice is part of our DNA. But in those moments when we snip, offer the cold shoulder, talk about someone, yell back…when what we offer back is our best imitation of a defensive lineman, I think there is in us a betrayal of another part of us. The Spirit of Christ, best defined by love, lives and dwells and is part of our being. That one Spirit connects us to God and to others. In those times when we react with malice, we go against the connection God gives us with others, and we betray who it is guiding us to be a loving and connected people.
When we talk about “love,” the subject is deep and wide. There is love of chocolate ice cream and the Colts. There is the newlywed love, and there is the deep love of a parent. To try to cover the subject of love in a sermon is a lot like trying to empty an ocean with a Dixie cup. The love that the scripture invites us to consider today with the situation between Paul and the church family at Corinth is a specific kind of love. It is a love defined in and through Jesus.
Remember, Jesus summarized the entire Jewish law in two commandments. They say in summary, “Love the Lord your God with all that you are and have and love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no greater commandment. In one breath, He placed love above tradition and above a cultural or religious system. He brought all the commandments of God into alignment under the majesty of love. Every Old Testament law and every commandment, every jot and tittle of truth, finds its completion in one word, which is love. God’s command to love is simple and grand. Ultimately, God’s command to love is defined in Christ. He defines it for us as he lays down his life for us and shows us the way to mend and restore relationships. We could sum up this love by saying: “Love is a sacrifice for the undeserving that opens the door to restoration of relationship with God, others, and ourselves.” (Bold Love, by Dr. Dan Allender.) That kind of love is a tall order. Although we won’t always love well, it is not entirely beyond us. It is not entirely beyond us because it is not beyond the capabilities of Christ who lives in us and among us.
I was a gymnast for fourteen years. I became a serious gymnast in a time that would be considered pretty late. But one day, I was at the gym and the coach said we should do some double backs. That means we would go up and turn two backwards somersaults in the air before coming down. Now, I knew and he knew that I was not yet ready for a double back on the floor. In fact, I wasn’t close, and yet he wanted me to try them. So we climbed up on the trampoline, got harnessed, and I stood between two spotters. I flew. I went up and sort of flipped and landed. The next time was better. We did it over and over and over again. Folks, I tasted the double back. I tasted what it was like to taste what seemed like the air of heaven, and I tasted what it was to be that good. Now, I can tell you that I never did the double back on the floor, but because of what I tasted in that gift, I loved the hard work of learning and trying new things. I loved reaching beyond the level I had come to rest in. I loved the working and the reaching because the air up there had seeped deep into my being.
The invitation to open wide our hearts to people at times when it is most difficult to love is not to get us hurt. It is not a glib request of forgive and forget when someone hurts us or the request to form ourselves into doormats. Paul, at every turn, faces the relationship and is honest about the issues at hand. Paul is anything but a doormat. Yet, he stands in love, offers to honestly and authentically work through the issue, and maintain the relationship. He doesn’t offer nasty words, cold-shouldered gossip, or vengeful acts. He doesn’t wall up his heart and wish he could disappear. There are times when I don’t think Paul loves too well (and I am thankful for his imperfections), but with a brave heart, he stands before these people. In honesty and in courage, he opened wide his heart to those who hurt and angered him. He helps us understand how and why.
He says he does it by the power of God. In essence, it is because he’s tasted the air up there. He tasted it in the moment he encountered Jesus Christ and let the searing, beautiful, hard-earned, extravagant grace of Jesus Christ seep deep into his being. The tireless grace that says “There is nothing… there is not height, depth, nor angels or principalities… there is nothing you could do or not do that could separate my love from you. There is no distance too far, no time too long, no challenge too deep, no sacrifice too great. I will cross the heavens to come and walk among you, to feel your pain, and offer you guidance, and I will go through any suffering only to be raised from the dead so that anything you might do might be forgiven and you might forever and always be with me.” This is the love of Christ Paul encountered and let seep deep into his being. This is the Christ who meets us again today.
This is the love of Christ we taste with every communion, every hymn, in every outstretched hand of peace, and every hug of a friend. It is the Christ we taste in this community as it endures and loves. It is the Christ who finds you in the quiet moments and says, “You are my child.” Paul says do not accept this grace in vain. Let it seep into your very being and taste the air up there which is the love of God. Then, let it make your heart brave and give you the courage to love when loving is hard to do. As Paul says, in genuine love and truthful speech, may we open wide our hearts and attempt to respond in loving ways. In doing so, we extend to others an invitation toward God, you, and the piece of themselves that needs loving connection.
That is why Paul is able to stand in love when others offer disrespect, hurt or anger. That is why Paul can open wide his heart to people he would probably rather not love at all. He isn’t responding to the people who hurt him, but to Christ who loves him even when he is cranky, prideful, stubborn, and self-seeking. Our command to love our neighbor isn’t determined by other’s loving or respectful treatment of us. It is determined by the beautiful love of Christ we are invited to receive every day. Our response to others is based on God’s steadfast love of us.
Stephen Olford tells a story about Peter Miller, a Baptist pastor during the American Revolution. He lived in Pennsylvania, and enjoyed the friendship of George Washington. In the same town was a man named Michael Wittman. Michael was an evil-minded sort who did all he could to oppose and humiliate the pastor. One day Michael Wittman was arrested for treason and sentenced to die. Peter Miller traveled seventy miles on foot to Philadelphia to plead for the life of the traitor.
"No, Peter," General Washington said. "I cannot grant you the life of your friend."
"My friend!" exclaimed the old preacher. "He's the bitterest enemy I have."
"What?" cried Washington. "You've walked seventy miles to save the life of an enemy? That puts the matter in different light. I'll grant your pardon." And he did.
Peter Miller took Michael Wittman back home to their little town--no longer an enemy but a friend.
When we attempt to respond to the guy who honks and yells at us on the road with something more kind or the church group who threatens the things we love with a respectful and loving conversation…when we attempt to say honestly to a spouse or friend the things that hurt us and work to restore the relationship, we open the door to a real relationship with God, with others and with ourselves.
Good people of God, claim your brave heart this morning. Being brave doesn’t mean that we won’t get hurt. That’s part of living and loving. But, let us remember, we have been given an unbreakable, unconditional love in Christ that stands with us in our hurt. Because Christ’s love is unconditional, we have the freedom to not love perfectly and to sometimes respond badly, but because we know a love so bold and courageous, let us offer it to others. Let us receive the invitation from this morning’s scripture and love with courage, for the Spirit in us gives us a heart, even braver then we thought. This is the good news of Jesus Christ. Amen.
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