Bread for the Journey
"Change is a Two-Way Street"
Laurel Dahill
Seabury-Western
Septermber 26, 2007
How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb? None. My great grandfather put that light bulb in. It’s always been there.
A parish I know decided to embark on a parish growth campaign. They invited parishioners to submit their favorite recipes to be published in a cookbook they would sell. They did this once before, for a 1979 fund-raising campaign, that was very successful. I couldn’t help myself, so I e-mailed the rector, and I said, “What was wrong with the 1979 cookbook?!”
I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s hard to get people to change. We joke about it, but beneath every joke is a fragment of truth. Growing a congregation calls for quite a bit of change. Do you grow in numbers? Do you grow in ministries? In theological understanding? Depth of spirituality? How will these growths change the way we understand ourselves anymore? After we’ve changed, who are we now? Resistance to change is hardwired into human beings. Change means having to be vulnerable. Growing means things will be put in different places. We’ll have to share resources that we never had to before. People will exist without complaint in bad situations so long as they understand them, or have at least gotten used to them because, the devil you know, as they say, is better than the devil you don’t know.
The lesson from Timothy today begins with a directive from the author that’s very contradictory to the Gospels. Pray for the people in power and authority so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. Are you kidding me with this? What happened to Matthew’s Jesus in chapter 10: “I have not come to bring peace.” Or in Luke chapter 12: “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” What happened to my favorite Jesus who gets right down in there with lepers and women and Gentiles, and corpses! What happened to the rabble-rousing Jesus who overturns tables in the Temple? What happened to the Jesus who calls attention to himself all the time? It is tempting to stop reading Timothy at this point.
It would not be fair though, to receive the entirety of this text solely on the first impression of the opening line. We would be doing a disservice to the author, to Timothy and the other recipients, and to ourselves. Change, like growth, like reading this lesson, takes time and patience. It’s a journey. I think this is a good place to start as we host this year’s Bread for the Journey, and the theme of introducing growth - changes - to our communities, and in ourselves. The writer of Timothy goes through a remarkable transformation over the course of these six lines. We are invited to journey along with him.
It begins with a certain sense of trepidation about being an “out” Christians, so to speak, in a place where Christians may have been only marginally tolerated. There is a strong emphasis on safety and self-preservation that is not unreasonable. Even Jesus in the Garden wanted the cup to pass by him, to keep himself safe from the final chapters of his earthly ministry. Fear is a powerful emotion that can magnify and distort even the most benign things. One might argue that the chapel plaster didn’t start crumbling until we went to the semester system. The inanimate equivalent of an Edward Friedman-like identified patient, reacting to the new vision for the seminary. But it’s just a bit of plaster. Those who wield the power to incite fear are powerful agents of change indeed.
But as sure as the Holy Spirit comes as the wind, comes as if from nowhere and goes where it will, Timothy’s author begins to shed his trepidation, when he states the very genesis of our faith and mission: “There is one God; one mediator.” He suddenly becomes confident in his mission and ministry. He begins to speak more boldly. This is what I’m here to do, he realizes. How are people supposed to “come to the knowledge of the truth” if they can’t see it? If it’s hidden away? And he carries us on with that self same air that inspired his readers and the countless faithful then - and inspires us still today.
Change is not a one-way street. To impose change on our people in the pews without being open to changes and transformations within ourselves, may be just as bad as not changing at all, or worse. Succumbing to fear of different things stifles the movement of the Spirit, and distorts the in-breaking truth of the reign of God. Likewise, too-forcefully demanding others to change also diverts the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. “Go or Grow” does sound a bit like an ultimatum. Heaven forgive naysayers their resistance, and forgive us our frightening them.
To complete his transformation, the author of Timothy states the very pinnacle of the beauty of the call to mission. He finally comes around to remembering not just what he has to do, but who he is - who God created him to be. “For this I was appointed a herald and an apostle.” Have any words among us ever been spoken so truly or so humbly? This is a prayer, a prayer of supplication, intercession, and thanksgiving. For what else have we been called to do and to be, but people of the one God of transformation, of new things, of death and resurrection, of the proclamation of salvation. The author of Timothy journeys from fear of making waves; to masterfully riding the wind that makes the waves. He himself changes - transforms, grows - from doing the work of God to being the person God intended. What a mighty call to mission, to change and transformation that this lesson shows us.
I ask your forgiveness for speaking out so boldly against the resistant who hold back the in-breaking of truth. And I ask our forgiveness of those who cling so desperately to properly plastered chapel walls. Let us forgive the shortcomings of others and ourselves; and have the courage to float lightly when the inspiration of the Holy Spirit blows in our congregations and communities and invites us to change and grow in Christ.