So my mom called me a few days ago and said, ‘wasn’t it this
time last year that we were down in the city handing out 20’s like they were
dollar bills?’ This is true. They came down to see the Macy's Christmas windows and every time they saw someone sitting on the corner with a cup, or asking for a buck, they gave them $10s and $20s. And it was pretty unusual for my parents… I
mean, don’t get me wrong, my mom and stepdad are generous people. But they rarely visited Chicago, and when they did, they were
even less likely to do so in a way that allowed them to encounter panhandlers on every street corner like most of us who live
there. It just happened to be a
combination of events – on a day that they were planning to visit me, the
pastor happened to give an amazing Advent Sermon that inspired my usually
frugal parents to take out a few hundreds at the cash machine and give it all
away. And – the funniest thing – they
were kind of giddy as they did so.
I never heard that sermon, but I wish I had. In fact, I wish I was giving it right
now!
A few years ago in Seminary I walked to get lunch with one of
my favorite Seminary classmates named Seamus. Seamus is one of kind in his trust in the
gospel. This day, we went to get
Medici’s pizza and he pulled some cash out at the ATM. Now, Seamus had a terrible habit of paying for
everyone’s meals – and this afternoon was no different. (Terrible for him, I
mean. It was always good for me, but I
worried about his budget.) As we started
walking back to school, a man stopped us on the street and asked for a few
dollars to get something to eat. Seamus
put his hand in his pocket, handed it to the guy and said, “God Bless, brother”
before the guy finished his sentence. We
turned and continued walking. I had
glimpsed the fold of money he handed over but knew Seamus well enough to be
nonchalant. After a few minutes, I
asked, ‘how much do you think you just gave him?’ “well,” said Seamus, “I took out $60, the
pizza was $18, so I’d expect about 42 dollars.”
All I said was, ‘you made his day.’
I’m not trying to admonish you all into giving away all your
money today – rather, I want to share stories of the unexpected joy of
generosity. We follow an unexpected
God. Rather, for centuries people
expected God, but expected Him to show up in a certain way. Even John the Baptist here is looking or a
different kind of sign. He’s expecting
God to yield fire and sword, and separate the wheat from the chaff. God doesn’t follow the expected route, and
John has to send disciples to ask, “Are you the one we’ve been waiting for?”
We are living in a time of waiting. God has broken into the world, and started us
on a path to redemption, but it is not yet, not complete yet. We are still waiting, living into that which
is already and still, not yet here.
I spent some time in bible study talking about working with
the homeless through an organization in Chicago called The Night Ministry. The
Night Ministry operates a bus that runs every night, from 6 pm to 12 am, and
makes 3 stops in neighborhoods where there are high densities of people living
without housing, or people who are transient between homes. The bus offers coffee, sometimes food, and
access to a nurse, but most importantly the night ministry offers conversation
with no obligations. The mission
statement of the night ministry is primarily that all humans require the
dignity of relationship, and secondly, that change is more likely to happen
when one has relationships in their lives.
My job, as a Seminarian intern, was to be in relationship with
the people who came to the bus. Be their
friend. Make small talk. Care for
them.
And I tell you, I was kinda terrified. I had spent over 10 years being an organizer
and advocate in Chicago for ‘the least of these’. But I had never actually been
in relationship myself. I wasn’t sure
that I could do it. I had the usual
worries, of course – the same ones we all have.
People who live on the street are sometimes dirty. Smelly. Mentally unstable. Could be violent. Might resent me for having some money. Might ask me for more than I want to give
away.
The unexpected was that, as the summer wore on, I found
myself as comfortable in community with those folks as I had ever been anywhere
else in my life. Their welcome was
surprising. Their joy in seeing you was sincere. And our time spent together was just as fun
as spending time with the people in my social strata. That summer, because of those relationships,
I actually felt more grounded and joyful and content than most times I can
remember.
I know in the world we’re in right now, it can be difficult
to imagine the kingdom of heaven on earth. We have school shootings and terrorist
bombings…raging forest fires and melting glaciers… personal illness and deaths
of loved ones…and political discord and the very real feelings that our values
– each of us – are under attack by some other segment of society.
In the midst of all this, we have the words of scripture,
asking us to rejoice in the coming of something – crocuses blooming and deserts
greening and lions laying down with lambs and water springing forth bringing
new life… a place where the blind see and the lame walk and the deaf
hear…diseases are cured and the dead walk again. And we have good news for the poor.
In the midst of our anxiety, God asks us to have joy. Rejoice! Scripture says. Rejoice! Says the song.
In this time of waiting, of living in a world that has felt
the touch of God, and yet still is not fully redeemed, God never gives up on
offering the world opportunities to become more like the realm of heaven. And that in that new realm, there is joy in
knowing that anything is possible. Maybe,
rather than looking for that external sign, we have to look within ourselves to
see how to bring the gospel to life.
Do you know what’s trending on facebook since the
election? In my facebook newsfeed, I
keep seeing random acts of kindness that go beyond kind. Someone paying for the coffee and leaving a
$20 gift card for the person behind them at Starbucks. Someone offering a ride to an elderly
stranger struggling on the sidewalk – and spending the day making sure they
finished all their errands! Someone bringing
food to the homeless but returning to build tiny homes for every person
sleeping on the ground under a particular overpass.
Maybe the new realm heaven is in the lunacy of excessive
generosity. Maybe it’s in giving of
ourselves in unexpected ways. Maybe we
have to be open to unexpected joy. Maybe we have to go so far in caring that we
surprise ourselves. Living into the new
realm may require us to take a leap of faith, a leap of trust, to leave our
common sense behind. But in that, there
is joy! Because that is the gospel!
My parents were giddy that day in Chicago not because of the
gratitude they received for the money, but because they were surprising
themselves with their generosity. Seamus is one of my favorite people, not just
because of his incredible gift for scripture insights, but because of his
stubborn insistence to live into the gospel without regret. I was happy that summer I worked with the
homeless because, it turned out, the generosity it took for me to make room in
my life for people I’d normally never be friends with gave me unexpected joy.
What would it cost us to live into the new realm of heaven as
if it was already here? Because, truly, we have the unique power to express the
joy of the gospel every day. Maybe we
are the sign that the gospel is real. Perhaps this is one of those instances
where we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
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