Like a Tree
By Griff Martin
On Jeremiah 17:5-10 and Luke 6:17-26
For the Beloveds of First
Austin: a baptist community of faith
On the Sixth Sunday
following Epiphany
February 17, 2019
The day I started this sermon I was
working at home, taking care of Blake who had just been diagnosed with the flu
and suddenly was on a 48-hour quarantine, the first of many quarantines that
would come from this flu outbreak (The Flu - 3, Martins - 1 is the current
score). I got her all settled, and then went to work on the sermon – reading
this Old Testament text a few times and trying to put myself in the place of
those to whom it was given, who heard it first as words from a prophet – a
street corner preacher preaching to those who were in exile, away from the
world as they had known it.
I
thought I had found my place in the text, the place that rooted me and caught
my attention – and then I heard all sorts of commotion, very loud commotion
coming from my backyard. It took me a minute to remember that today was the day
the guys who were installing our new fence had suggested might be a good start
date. I looked out the back window and saw them knocking down the old fence. I
went back to work, once again looking for my way into this text.
And
then I heard more commotion, and a knock on the front door. A bit exasperated,
I went to the door to find one of the fence boys standing there. I opened the
door, and he looked at me a bit confused. “Hey Mr. Martin… ummm…. I just
realized that we started your project, you know we just knocked down the fence,
and then realized I am not sure we confirmed that you wanted to go ahead with
it – that price was good and it’s okay to start today?”
I
looked back at him a bit confused, because that would have been really
appropriate to have asked about 30 minutes ago – you know, before he had
knocked down the old fence. I smiled and said, “Well it’s a little too late for
that now, isn’t it? But good news, yeah, we are good with the pricing and
starting today.”
It’s
pretty close to how I feel about this text. It comes from a book we often
misquote, the book of Jeremiah. We pick fragments of this prophet’s writing,
but we often overlook his entirety and general message. Pay attention to the
texts we do pick from his book: Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have
for you….” Or the new covenant found in Jeremiah 31.
I
personally think we quote those verses and, upon hearing how out of context we
take these passages, the prophet Jeremiah might quote one of my favorite lines
from one of my favorite movies, “You keep using that word. I do not think it
means what you think it means.”
When
I was a freshman at Baylor University, I went to a service right before our
first semester of school started. It was supposed to be a typical Kumbaya-type
event to make us feel good as we entered this new phase of our life…. And then
one of the speakers stood up to read the passage that was going to be our
passage of the year, Jeremiah 29:11. She got a bit confused – “For I know the plans
I have for you declares the Lord plans to give you a hope and a future, plans
to prosper you and plans to destroy you.”
She
missed the ‘not’ in “not to destroy you” …. A pretty important “not.”
And
actually, I think she was probably more in line with Jeremiah, if I am honest.
I mean, Jeremiah is not the greeting card prophet; Jeremiah is the prophet who
wears his heart on his sleeve, who suffers from major depression and has really
bad news for those who he is called to preach to – it is a lot of judgment, because
the people of God have been unfaithful to God. Jeremiah stands in opposition to
most everyone else, announcing that if the people of God are going to have any
future at all, they need to be ready to accept the destruction of their home
Jerusalem and accept exile in the foreign land Babylon. Their future involves
accepting being strangers in a foreign land.
Here
is a good rule of thumb for reading Jeremiah: if it makes you feel too
comfortable, question if you have read it right. These were not words people
wanted to hear, quite the opposite.
Which
is how I feel about this passage we just read. It’s written to a people that
are in exile, whose lives are not going exactly the way they thought they would
be going, who have suddenly realized that they put their trust in the wrong
things and it’s all come crashing down. What they thought was home might not be
home, and their lives might look nothing like they anticipated – sound
familiar?
The
story you thought was going to be your future is no longer when the stock
market comes crashing down and you lose half your retirement in one day, or
your spouse walks out the door, or your spouse walks back in the door, or your
candidate does not win office, or you come to terms with your sexuality, or you
get the phone call no one wants to get that starts off with “these are not the
results we wanted,” or when you lose someone you love, or when you best friend
says they are not sure you want to be best friends anymore. When the life you
have so carefully and wonderfully prepared for is taken from you in what feels
like an instant.
For
me, this place is 2014. Things were not going well at my last church, as things
tend to do from time to time at church. They had gotten to know me, and I had
gotten to know them, and we knew that it was not a match made in heaven, and
that made this calling feel like work and not a joy, and that was taking its
toll on everything else in my life. And then I got a call to interview at a
very prestigious and important church and, to make a long story short, things
were going very well and I was picturing myself there (and all that came with
that calling)…when the chair of that search committee called and said, “Well,
the vote is 8 to 1 and, according to our bylaws, it has to be unanimous. The 1
against you says if you were 5 years older, it would be a done deal because we
were looking for someone 40-45 years age, but we can’t fix that, can we?”
(Nope).
And
then I found myself walking in a world that no longer felt like the one I had
prepared for or desired, and I found myself looking around at my life and the
only prayer I knew was this: “This is not what I was created for, right?”
These
folks suddenly find themselves in exile away from everything they have ever known
and wanted, and I think that is their prayer, too: “This is not what we were
created for, right?” And it’s here Jeremiah gives them this picture of a tree…and
I can just hear them: “Ummm…well yeah, it’s a little too late for that now,
isn’t it? We aren’t by streams of living water, we are in a strange land trying
to unpack. We aren’t too concerned about gardening right now. Too late.”
Except,
this I know: with God, it’s never too late. God’s timing is always, simply always…meaning, God’s invitation is
always open – To plant trees next to the river that will never run dry, and to
redeem hearts from all that has held them back and to turn woes into blessings.
God’s
invitation comes in the midst of a desert where only shrubs live, where things
are bone dry and where everything seems parched – where prayer is a mirage of
water in the distance that gets further every step you take, and where death
feels like it might actually be an upgrade. And God’s invitation there is to
plant yourself by a river that will never run dry, to dig roots into the ground
that will always provide and to find yourself in a place where the branches are
always full of new growth.
God’s
invitation is to take our hearts, which are so timid and prone to wander, and
redeem them by joining our hearts with God’s heart. That is the Gospel, that is
the good news.
It’s
the words of Jesus Christ, who is simply preaching a very loud and clear
variation on everything God has ever uttered and ever will utter: belong to me,
dig and plants your roots in me, put your faith and trust in me, let my story
be your story, let me be your God and you be mine, let me love you.
It’s
a variation of Love, the only song that our God knows.
A
song that looks like a tree that has been planted with roots which have found
an eternal spring of water, with hearts that look alive.
A
song that is quite honest. You see, this text and the Gospel text today don’t
beat around the bush – they are honest that bad things are going to happen and
it’s going to be rough and it’s going to be real, but God is going to be here
with us, it’s our truth…. That water exists in places we never thought
possible, that blessings and woes belong together, that life is brutal and
beautiful, that upside-down might sometimes be right side up, and that no
matter what we do, we have an invitation to plant ourselves next to God and let
God care for us and water us and restore us.
Even
when we think it is impossible.
So,
may we look to the trees. Think about our tree and imagine this: even when we
might be a tree that has been planted in once place for hundreds of years and
suddenly our space is being torn up like all the other space downtown to make
room for more horrendously overpriced and visually dull hotels and condos, the
space where this tree has lived it’s whole beautiful life, the space that is
truly hers suddenly is not, the space where we have thrived for years is no longer
ours, the only life we have ever known about to be gone.
Until
we are upon grace, space is made in a little spot that seems like it might not
grow anything, a space of land on the back corner near 10th and Trinity. And
the tree is moved through incredible efforts and replanted with the stern
warning that it probably won’t survive, and there are all sorts of warnings: don’t
walk on the grass around it, anticipate for it to look like it’s dying, don’t
expect new growth anytime soon, and then again the ominous words: know that
there is a good chance this won’t work and the tree will die.
Except
it does not die, quite the opposite. The tree not only lives, it actually
grows. It actually does better here than we ever expected. There is fresh
growth everywhere we look. It’s this text come to life.
Because
of course that is what happens. Of course, that is the sign God gave us: a tree
being moved and finding new life. I know how much the nets speak to this
church, but when I need to see God here amongst us, I look out of my office
window at the branches of that oak tree that almost make my office feel like a
tree house, and I say amen and amen.
The
Gospel, the good news from our God this day is that the invitation is always “Plant
trees and let my water be that which grows you and sustains you and helps you
to produce fruits beyond your wildest dreams. Let me be the source of all for
you, the ground of being. Find all the rest and nourishment and life you can
right here, where it will never end.”
And
it’s never too late to answer that call.
I
just pray we listen and are willing to move towards the call.
Amen
and amen.
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