Shifting Hearts

By: Rev. Brenda Sol

The other day, as I was walking into the grocery store, a woman was heading out into the parking lot. She was using a cane, and was very unsteady across those annoying little, so-called “safety bumps”. With her other arm—the one with a bag of groceries hanging off of it—she reached toward me. She started to ask, “Could you…” but then shook her head and blurted out, “Oh no! Not you.”

Now, I had never even met this woman before, so I knew she didn’t recognize me, but I wondered who she thought I was? I didn’t even know what she wanted, but why NOT me? Looking around for someone else, she added, “You’re just as bad off as me,” which is when I realized she had spotted my sling.

It seems that we humans have the tendency to quickly rule out what we think isn’t possible. We are keen to “judge a book by its cover”, so to speak. We frequently blurt out—either in our heads or out loud—“Not you. Not that. Not me.” It’s such a common behavior, that we see it in all three of our scripture readings this morning.

In the book of Samuel, the people are demanding he find them a mighty king. Samuel tries to explain that rather than a king, they could embrace God as their leader. He communicates the ways God will watch over them…how loved and cared for they will feel. But the people say, “Oh no. Not that!”

Then, they go on to describe the kind of king they long for. And as we listen, we begin to understand that, like so many people, they don’t want a God who will work in them and through them, they want a king who will take care of everything for them.

The Apostle Paul explores a similar dilemma in second Corinthians. What we know about Paul’s letters is they each address specific problems going on in a particular church community. In this case, we can hypothesize that Paul had explained that discipleship involves letting go of our existing lives for the sake of coming closer to God, and, thereby, serving others. You can almost hear them wailing, “Oh no. Not that! Not me…don’t make me give up my safe, secure, comfortable life!”

Then, in our Gospel reading, we encounter more doubt, or disbelief. Jesus’s healing ministry has been so successful that crowds are following him. He and the disciples are so busy trying to help everyone, they don't even have time to eat. But these activities are causing too much of a stir in the area, so the spiritual leaders insist Jesus couldn’t possibly be actually healing people. Instead they start what is essentially a “false news” campaign, saying he must be possessed by the evil one.

But as I’ve mentioned in other sermons, doubting, questioning and taking time to come around to God’s ways, is a healthy part of our faith journey. As I stated in my Trinity Sunday sermon, we Episcopalians put a lot of stock in the idea that as we wrestle to better understand God’s ways, our faith is deepened. At the same time, many theologians suggest that one of the ways we come to better understand God’s ways is by praising God. Praising God helps shift our hearts as we become more aware of God working in and through us.

I recently heard that idea lifted up in the form of a contemporary Christian song. The song’s called, “That's The Thing About Praise”. What I appreciate about the lyrics is they start out by naming the reality of life—that sometimes when we pray for something, it seems like God hasn’t heard us, because our desired outcome isn’t transpiring. And if we stop there, we’re like the woman in the parking lot, or the people in Sameul who say to God, “Oh no. Not you!”

But the song goes onto say, “Still, hallelujah is my response.” Then the lyrics continue: “That's the thing about praise; It won't always move the mountain, but it's good for the heart.” In other words, the more we try to understand God’s ways, the more we realize how generous and gracious God really is. The song ends with these words: “That's the thing about praise; you never know what it'll change.” Like the theologians, the song-writer’s point is that in praising God, our hearts are changed.

So, once I realized the woman at the grocery store had decided I was useless because of my sling, I pursued the conversation a little further. I asked, “What is it that you need?” When she said, “I need a hand to get over there,” I lifted my other arm, pointing out, “I do have one good hand.” And she decided to grab on.

Together, we slowly made our way over to her car. As we walked, we chatted a bit about what it’s like to need help. Both of our hearts were shifted as we came to understand the other, and in that moment, I felt the abundance of God’s grace and mercy. And whether she would call it that or not, I think she felt the same.

The Apostle Paul refers to this shift of the heart as the “spirit of faith,” as he helps the Corinthians understand that losing our lives is the path to freedom, because surrendering to God opens us to the fullness of God.

In the passage from Mark the shift of the heart is expanded to who is considered family. At first glance, Jesus’s words might seem a little harsh. He says, “Those people in there? No. They’re not my family.” But what we learn, as we read on, is that he’s saying, “My family has expanded from just those people in there.” And as he signals out to the entire crowd, he adds, “All these people—all those who are ready to accept God as their leader, instead of a king—all of these people are my family.”

So, today [at 10am worship] we will baptize three individuals: Baby Rachel, four-year old Joel, and Joel’s mother, Katie. As we move through the liturgy, they, or their parents and godparents on their behalf, will make three renunciations, and three promises, along with several commitments toward discipleship. All of that together is designed to help them and those of us who participate, experience a shift of heart. As we praise God, we come to understand God. As we praise God, our hearts are changed.

—Amen.