And then the Gospel reading is the first
of five consecutive weeks of readings that are really just a single story: John
6. Here
is a blog on the full story, which has to be read as a dramatic whole – and
then you’ll also find there some specific details for each of the Sundays as it’s
divvied up between the weeks of July 29 and August 26.
So beyond the Bathsheba/David/Nathan
episode, and the Feeding of the 5000 and what unfolds from it, here are some
thoughts on this week’s epistle, Ephesians 3:14-21. When I was in college, I fell in for
a while with a group of Christians who were big on prayer “reports.” When they
gathered, people would file their prayer requests (which as I recall were
remarkably self-absorbed and narrow – help with an exam, romantic troubles, etc.),
everyone would pray – and then a time was provided for people to report on what
they had been praying, and the results of prayers in earlier weeks. My mother’s surgery went well! I aced the
test! And one quite attractive young woman who had caught my eye reported
with much enthusiasm that she had been desperate for a parking space the other
day; she’d prayed, and someone pulled out of a very convenient space right in
front of her just a moment after she’d prayed. I didn’t follow up with her.
Ephesians 4:14-21 is a prayer
report – in the sense that he reports on what he has been praying for them. No
prayers for help or comfort or “answers,” but strength in their inner selves.
The goal of Paul’s prayer for them, which we might deduce would be a good
mission statement for our own lives, is “to be filled with all the fulness.”
That’s three big words, and on the heels of four expansive words in verse 18:
the breadth, length, height and depth of Christ’s love. I’m reminded of Elizabeth
Barrett Browning’s sonnet:
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and
breadth and height my soul can reach…” Did she have Ephesians 4 in the back of
her mind? And how do we consumer-oriented people love others, much less God, in
such boundless ways?
And to invite our listeners to
expand their shrunken souls. In the thick of World War II, C.S. Lewis preached
one of history’s finest sermons, “The Weight of Glory.” In its opening, he says
our problem is not that our desires are too strong – a sense you get from a lot
of preaching, that Christianity is throwing cold water on excessive desire. Rather,
“it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We
are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when
infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making
mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a
holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” Paul promised that God “is
able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” (Eph. 4:20).
So: life in Jesus is huge,
fantastic. Somebody unspeakably large is living in you – the preacher, and
those to whom you preach, echoing Galatians 2:19, “It is no longer I who live,
but Christ who lives in me.” How do we realize this wonder we don’t notice, or
underestimate? By meditation? Contemplating art? Listening to music? It’s
counter-cultural, for sure.
A clue to help us grow in our
praise, and thus to cultivate strength in our inner being, is in verse 18: Paul
prays we will ponder this “with the saints.” Indeed, as we enjoy the advantage
of 2,000 years of Christian history over Paul, we see much in the saints we can
mimic. Thérèse
of Lisieux, in the late 1890’s, riddled with illness up to her death at age 23,
repeatedly said of her love for Jesus, “To die of love is what I hope for, on
fire with his love I want to be, to see him, be one with him forever, that is
my heaven – that’s my destiny: by love to live.”
Bernardo of Quintavalle, a wealthy
merchant, invited Francis of Assisi to his home. After the evening meal, they retired for the
evening. Francis pretended to sleep;
Bernard also pretended to sleep, even feigning a snore. Francis rose and then knelt, praying over and
over, all night long, “My God, my all.” His whole life was a manifestation of
the height, depth and breadth of God’s nature, heart, grandeur and wonder.
What is ministry but the demonstration and
embodiment of God’s boundless love? Too many ministries skimp, and try to
insure the recipients are worthy, and that they only get just enough. Dorothy
Day (who was born the same year Thérèse of Lisieux died, and wrote a great
little book about her) once received a donation of a diamond ring for her work
with the poor. Instead of selling it, she simply gave it to the next person who
came in asking for help. Her response to critics who said she should have sold
it and given it to the poor (who might remind us of Judas’s criticism of the
woman anointing Jesus!)? Who says fine, beautiful things are only for the rich?
And then Thomas à Kempis: “Lord, in what
can I trust in this life? And what is my greatest comfort on earth? Is it not
Yourself, O Lord my God, whose mercy is limitless? Have I ever prospered
without You? And did I ever suffer ill when You were at hand? I would rather be
poor for Your sake than rich without You. I would choose to be a wanderer on
the face of the earth with You, rather than to possess heaven without You. For where You are, there is Heaven; and where
You are not, there is death and Hell. You are my sole desire; for You I sigh,
pray, and cry… Unless You abide with me, all things that seem to bring peace
and happiness are as nothing, for they cannot bestow true happiness. You alone
are the End of all good things, the fulness of life, the depth of wisdom; and
the greatest comfort of Your servants is to trust in You above all else. My
God, Father of mercies, I look to You, I trust in You.”
************
My newest book, Weak Enough to Lead, is available, and my next most recent book, Worshipful, now has an online study guide with video clips.
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