On the Blessing of Vulnerability (Abram's call to go to a foreign land…)

“Now the LORD said to Abram:  Go forth from your country, and from your relatives and from your father’s house, to the land which I will show you; And I will make you a great nation, and I will bless you, And make your name great; And so you shall be a blessing; And I will bless those who bless you, And the one who curses you I will curse. And all clans on earth will bless themselves by you.”      --Genesis 12:1-3

     When the Lord sends Abram to a far country, away from his relatives and his father’s house, we might be tempted to simply accept it as part of the narrative –a plot device so to speak. We might not question it, or contemplate it because it feels like the introduction to a story; it feels like a “once upon a time” moment.  We are so familiar with the rest of this story, the covenant drama with the split animal bodies, the many conversations with God, the name changes (Abram to Abraham; Sarai to Sarah), the heavenly visitors who prophecy Sarah’s pregnancy, the bargaining with God and especially the sacrifice of Isaac, that this opening detail can easily get glossed over in our rush to get to the action. But reading this passage the other morning, especially after reading Romans, I was struck by the weirdness of it.  Am I crazy? Quite possibly.  But, bear with me as I chase this idea once more around the bend. 

     Here’s what I heard in my heart when I read this: God called Abram to leave the place he knew, his homeland, and leave the place where he felt secure, his father’s house, and to go to a place that God would show him –a place Abram didn’t know and where he would have no standing. Go there. Go to this foreign land where you will be vulnerable and quite literally out of your comfort zone, and by doing this you will become a blessing for all people.  What does that vision say to my life? What does it say to the world today? 

     The first thing that occurred to me was: I need to go where God calls regardless of how comfortable or safe it seems. Because where God calls us to go will often be somewhere unfamiliar and challenging, but it will most assuredly be a place of vulnerability.  Isn’t that confirmed in Jesus? To be a witness for God, is to be vulnerable, to place ourselves in the hands of others –that we might become a blessing for them.  Notice that God tells Abram that those who bless him will be blessed and that those who curse him will be cursed. That sure sounds like God telling him, telling US, that some people will accept us and bless us and others will curse us. And notice that God doesn’t give any directives as to how Abram should react to either. In light of recently reading Romans, I still had these words of Paul’s echoing in my head:

“None of us lives for himself and none of us dies for himself. While we are alive we live for the Lord, and when we die, we die for the Lord…” (cf. Romans 14:7-8)

And with that thought still in mind, I saw in God’s call to Abram a call to all Christians to leave their comfort and their security and to go forth to an unfamiliar place where you can become a blessing to those who bless you.  It isn’t our business to judge the people who curse or bless us, it is only our business to get off the couch and go out to the world where we will be vulnerable, where God will give us the opportunity to serve Him in the people we meet, the people who bless or curse us, the people who simply reach out to us in need of help, a friend, food, or a consoling hand.  And I think somehow in God's algebra of grace, being vulnerable is an essential part of the equation; it is essential to becoming a blessing. Eegads! Contemplate that the next time you feel insecure.

     If you turn off your TV or shut off your phone (or computer) for a while you may hear a voice calling you, a voice calling from deep inside of you, calling you to get up off the couch and go outside –out of your comfort zone, out of your familiar places—go somewhere and just be vulnerable. Go somewhere that you might not normally go. Is that to the hospital to volunteer? Perhaps. Or to a soup kitchen? Maybe. Quite possibly it starts with simply telling someone after mass how much you liked their singing. Ask yourself this: Does it make you feel uncomfortable? Vulnerable? Then quite probably that is where you are being called to go. 

NEXT—that other thing this reading brought to mind.

…the moment is here: a reflection on Romans 13

“The moment is here for you to stop sleeping and wake up… the night is nearly over, daylight is on the way; so let us throw off everything that belongs to the darkness and equip ourselves for the light… Let your armor be the Lord Jesus Christ, and stop worrying about how your disordered natural inclinations may be fulfilled.”  --Romans 13: 11-14

In these verses Paul seems to speak to my life directly; middle aged, worried about my appetites and inclinations, sleep-walking through my own dark woods (i.e. mid-life crisis). But Paul assures us that that night nearly over, and daylight is on the way. Consider what that might mean to you personally.  For me, the night seems to describe the darkness that comes during a particularly difficult time: a time when I feel alone, lost, afraid.  And the daylight brings hope, the ability to see clearly what now I can only see in shadows and vague shapes –as if through a glass darkly.  

On one level the darkness, the night imagery, speaks to me of a time when our faith is challenged and we struggle to see signs of God’s presence, God’s guidance, God’s love; perhaps Paul is referring to this existence –this world. A place of spiritual darkness? A place and time wherein we cannot see God clearly, but he reassures us that daylight is coming. And it seems to me that he isn’t referring just to a sunrise tomorrow morning, but the Son rise of God’s fullness and grace.  The light of Christ.

And so, Paul exhorts us to throw off everything that belongs to the darkness, and singles out drunkenness, orgies, licentiousness and jealousy for special mention (cf.13:13). And yet, I think there is much more to this “deeds of darkness” than the easily singled out: sexual immorality (and drunkenness).  In the darkness we find ourselves afraid, anxious, insecure, confused, feeling hopeless, defensive (suspicious of every sound, every shadow that passes); in the darkness we grow tired; exhausted, we huddle together in an enclosed space seeking security –and desperate to escape from life’s troubles, how often do we long to simply fall into sleep?

All this belongs to the night, along with our revels and orgies and drunkenness –we hide them from the light to avoid witness to our shame, our fear, our vulnerability –our weakness.  In the dark, though, it is too easy to get lost. To think you are hidden, because you cannot see. Like a small child who covers his eyes and imagines the world cannot see him, we can begin to imagine our weakness and our sin is hidden –because it is kept in the darkness.  However, Paul says to us: throw off those deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light.  On the pious surface it would be easy to see this as simply: stop doing bad things and be a good Christian!

But, I think there is much more to it, and much less.  I think Paul is also saying: stop hiding yourselves! Put on the armor of light; on the one hand, (the spiritual hand, one might say) act like Christ! Yes! Of course! But on the other hand (on the more basic, more pedestrian day to day hand) put on the armor of light could also mean, don’t hide yourself! Don’t pretend to be something you aren’t.  And let the world accept or reject you because of who you really are! In a sense, there is no real armor except the armor of light.  As long as you have something to hide (something you are ashamed to have revealed) you will be afraid. Afraid it will come to light.  And yet Paul seems to be saying that “the light” is exactly what our darkness needs.

I don’t know that we need to wander the streets wearing scarlet letters, but perhaps the Puritans weren’t completely wrong.  For me, I am more interested in the concept of openness and vulnerability as strengths (as a kind of spiritual or psychological armor) and I am also interested in the sacrament of confession. We definitely need to admit to each other, privately and publicly, our brokenness and our need for Grace.  Wake up, Paul says. If you are a follower of Christ, then you need to start living like one.  But it is also clear that he knows we aren’t just going to just wake up one morning and suddenly be perfect. It seems to me that the message here isn’t about being perfect, but about being awake. Living intentionally and vulnerably.  Putting on the armor of light doesn’t mean we will be free from temptation (or that we won’t stumble into sin) but that we will be truly visible, we will be fully vulnerable, and perhaps that is how we will become light for the world.

Don’t ask yourself if you are ready. The hour is nigh. The moment is here. Stop sleep walking.  Wake up. Put on the light.