WILL GOD FAIL?
March 12, 2006
sermon given at St. Thomas Episcopal Church,
Medina, Washington
On Wednesday nights at St. Thomas, a group of 52 of us has been getting together for Via Media, an introduction to the Christian faith and the Episcopal Church. For newcomers, it’s a way to get an idea of who we are as Episcopalians. For old hands, it’s a way to learn to talk about the faith that is so dear to us. It’s been a neat journey so far, and we’re halfway through the eight-week course.
Each night of Via Media begins with dinner. Then we watch a short DVD presentation in which several Episcopalians sit around a table and share their thoughts on a theological subject; this week, the topic was the Holy Spirit.
In one video, a man said, “The opposite of faith is not doubt; it’s fear.” That seemed to make an impression on people, and it was a great conversation-starter for the small group discussions that followed.
Later, one Via Media participant came to me and said, “I love Via Media, but I disagreed with that man who said the opposite of faith is fear. I think the opposite of faith is certainty.”
You know, I think both answers are correct, and there may be other opposites of faith as well. But doubt is not one of them. If anything, doubt is a healthy part of faith, even when expressing our doubt brings consequences.
Last week, we heard about God’s promise to Noah that he would never again destroy the world with a flood. This week, we heard about God’s promise to Abraham that he would become the “father of many nations.” Next week, we’ll hear the Ten Commandments. The week after, we’ll hear about how “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son.” And the following week, we’ll hear of a new covenant that God will write on our hearts. The entire season of Lent is marked by God’s promises to us and by a call to have faith.
So what is faith? I think most of us probably figure it means believing something to be true. Well, yes … but faith means more than that. For one thing, faith does not mean being certain about something; no matter how certain you are, it doesn’t make you right. No, faith means trusting in God. When we don’t have the answers—and when we doubt—we trust that God does have the answers, and that’s where our faith lies. Faith is what allows us to say, “I believe, Lord … help my unbelief.”
Some people might say faith means believing impossible things to be true. This is the cynic’s definition, but it’s not entirely out of line. We just heard God’s promise that Abraham’s wife, Sarah, would conceive a child. At this point, Abraham is 99 years old, and Sarah is 90. What if you found out that your great-grandmother was pregnant? How would you react?
Abraham and Sarah had their doubts. In another version of this story, Sarah overhears God telling Abraham the news, and she laughs out loud. God gently rebukes her: “Why did you laugh?” Sarah says what most of us would say when caught red-handed: “Uh, I didn’t laugh!” To which God replies, “Yes, you did.”
Now, this could have been a negative situation for Sarah. It could have left her angry with God for scolding her. But instead, God announces that Sarah’s son will be named Isaac, which means “laughter.” Yes, Sarah does give birth in her old age, and from her laughter comes the entire Jewish nation. Sarah and Abraham learn that they needn’t have had those doubts in the first place, and they grow in faith.
It becomes clear to Sarah and Abraham: Old age never means that God has failed.
Fast-forward nearly two thousand years. Jesus has been building quite a name throughout the area by teaching and healing. One day, he takes his disciples aside and says, “You know they’re going to kill me, don’t you? They’re going to kill me, but even my death won’t stop God’s ability to work through me. They’re going to kill me, but my death won’t last for very long.”
Now, this is too much for Peter. Maybe it’s the shock of hearing his best friend say he intends to be martyred. Or maybe it’s this nonsense about death not being final. “That’s impossible!” says Peter to Jesus.
And for expressing his doubts, Peter gets rebuked more strongly than Sarah did: “Get behind me, Satan!”
Now, the name Satan did mean something different in those times; after all, this was long before Dante’s Inferno, and it would be many centuries before TV preachers would use our personal fears of Satan get our money. The concept of Satan hadn’t fully developed; he wasn’t yet the Big Bad, the Ultimate Evil; he was more of a mischief-maker. And God was on speaking terms with Satan. You can see this clearly in the Book of Job, which was sort of a bestseller in Jesus’ time.
But it’s still a bit of a shock, isn’t it? I mean, wouldn’t you or I have the same doubts Peter did? Imagine that after all this time, after all these centuries of persecution, the Messiah finally comes to save the Jews, and then he says he’s going to be tried, convicted and executed! God is going to fail to bring about his promise! Peter gets into trouble for being worried that God will fail.
But Peter’s doubts open the door for Jesus to say, “Look, you just don’t get it, do you? Stop thinking like a human and start thinking like God thinks.” Peter tries … oh, how he tries! Eventually, Peter becomes the self-confident apostle, spreading the Good News of Jesus’ Resurrection. He becomes the first Pope. But first, he doubts.
Only after the Resurrection does it become clear to Peter: Death never means that God has failed.
Both Sarah and Peter had a preconceived notion of God’s limits. At age 90, Sarah was certain it was too late for her to have any children. And Peter, the Messiah’s best friend, was sure that Jesus would eventually get around to overthrowing the Roman Empire and reestablishing the Kingdom of Israel as a political presence on Earth. Sarah and Peter were making predictions based on their understanding of how the world works; God could hardly blame them for their doubts. But God used their doubts to teach them a new thing.
Being alive is like driving at night in the fog, with headlights that fail to cut through the gloom. I know I’m going somewhere, and my destination has something to do with Resurrection. Like Sarah and Peter, based on the experience of my life, I think I know how the world works. But that knowledge is not very reassuring. I need my reason, but reason alone will leave me cynical.
So I turn to Scripture—it’s the Mapquest of our faith journey, right? It’s supposed to contain all things necessary to get us there. But this Mapquest was written in several foreign languages many centuries ago when the road wasn’t quite the same as it is now. Don’t get me wrong—it’s a big help, and I need it! And maybe it is really all I need, if only I could read it correctly—who knows? But if I trust it exclusively, I’m bound to wind up in the ditch.
Some people expect their church community to be a blinding light that illuminates the path all the way to the end. But that’s not the case either; our faith communities fail us sometimes. We’re all on this road together, and it’s helpful to know that. I couldn’t get there by myself. But sharing a tradition is not our only need.
Through a combination of reason, Scripture, and tradition, I have faith that God keeps His promises. Some people arrive at faith without needing all three of these things, and frankly, I’m kind of envious of them. But I need all three of these things—reason, Scripture, and tradition—and they continue to sustain me in my faith.
Yes, God will keep His promises, but how that’s going to happen is still a mystery to me. The fog hasn’t lifted, and my high-beams are broken. All I know is that God is telling me to keep driving this car. I’ll get there eventually. We’ll all get there eventually, even though most of us will go through old age and death on the way.
And old age never means God has failed. Banish your fear, but don’t be too sure that you know what’s coming. Have faith. Doubt, and learn.
And death—the death of anyone you know—never means God has failed. Banish your fear, but don’t be too sure that you know what’s coming. Have faith. Doubt, and learn.
Just wait. Easter is coming. Just wait.