October 9: Abundance and Worry

This week, I’ve been thinking about the economy, in all its whirling uncertainty. It’s all so abstract—I heard that a stack of 700 billion dollar bills would reach 54 miles into the sky, but that doesn’t help me understand the recent bail-out any better. The amount is staggering.   Now we know, too, the crisis isn’t confined to the United States, either—it’s worldwide, stretching all the way to China. As a non-financially oriented person myself, I have a hard time understanding what’s really going on—how bad is it? What do we do? How did we get here? Who can I blame?  All of these swirling questions contribute not just to worry, but to a deep, deep uncertainty about the future.  And this is the week we get our pledge cards! How can I give to church when I don’t even know what I’ll have for myself?

 There’s a strain in Christian spirituality that says, simply, don’t worry. It’s faithless to worry. If you worry, then you doubt God’s providence, generosity and care.  But I don’t buy it.

 It’s not faithless to worry. What is faithless is to allow ourselves to be paralyzed by our worry. It’s faithless to let your worry crowd out your prayer or your ability to hear the needs of others.  Jesus says,” I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10).  What does “abundant life” mean in a time where fear and scarcity seem to be the order of the day? Every time you hear the news, it’s about how there isn’t enough. How can Jesus claim that there is not just enough, but plenty? 

 We have a hard time seeing it, but we have glimpses of that dream of God “… the Lord will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. (Isaiah 25:6)  As we come together for the sacraments each Sunday, the Body of Christ feeds us, and we taste that abundant life for ourselves. As we hear the promises of Jesus in Scripture, we taste it. As we hear sing the hymns, we taste it. As we greet each other at the peace, we taste it.  As food is distributed at Grandma’s Pantry, we taste it.

 We trust God whose son Jesus Christ became human, and walks with us—not God, “out there,” but risen Christ, Holy Spirit, Creator and Father, right here.  We don’t just “trust God” in the abstract—we trust God in each other. We don’t just sacrifice in the abstract—we sacrifice for, and, importantly with, each other.  There is plenty to be worried about. That is okay. There is an opening, here, to invite God into that space of concern and care. There is no reason to insist that everything is fine when it clearly is not. But what our prayer can do is align us in our worry, to share the burden with God. This doesn’t mean that there is nothing to carry—but it reminds us that we don’t carry it alone.

 You’ll receive your pledge packet this Sunday in church, (we’ll mail it to you if you aren’t here). Before you fill it out, take a deep breath. Ask for the grace to see the invitation to pledge as an opportunity to exercise trust and to draw near to God.  Pray for the grace to see how God shares your worry, and ask God how you can share the grace of God’s peace with others.