Broken Open (Sunday, June 30, 2019) -Rev. Peter Heinrichs
Galatians 5:1, 13-25 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) 5 1 For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. 13 For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters;[a] only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence,[b] but through love become slaves to one another. 14 For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 15 If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another 16 Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17 For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. 19 Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, 21 envy,[c] drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. 24 And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
Someone once said that you can either be broken down by life or be broken open. Broken down – disappointed, resentful, blaming others, reactive, closed-minded, shut down –- or broken open – honest, self-aware, curious, patient, joyful, willing to be vulnerable and be changed. I am hungry to be and to be in the company of those who are broken open.
Paul’s Letter to the Galatians this morning says that the one state (broken down) is a state of slavery, the other (broken open) is a state of freedom. I am hungry to be and to be in the company of the free.
There are, I believe, roughly three movements in breaking open and getting free. (These are my words. It is quite possible you could describe the same thing in very different words). The first movement is a moment when it dawns on you that much (if not all) of what you have believed in your life is simply not the truth – or at the very least is no longer true for you. It may be a big dramatic, heart-wrenching moment when everything comes crashing down, or it may be a quiet “uh-oh” of a realization that steals upon you without warning. I call this first movement the “crack of the door.”
I call the second movement, “bracing the open door.” That’s because it takes a willingness bordering on desperation to remain open and not run for cover while the dust of the old beliefs settles and you wonder and doubt what’s coming next. It is a time to notice the small clues right in front of you because the small clues can lead you to a new and astonishing awareness. In spite of our fears, God will not leave us without these holy breadcrumbs. To actually follow the breadcrumbs – that’s our job.
The third movement takes place as more awareness of truth enters and takes hold. You become less reactive, you are no longer in constant, vigilant fear mode, and trust creeps in. Trust takes over that there is a field of truth and wisdom in which you belong. In which you have always belonged. It is a moment when you realize that you are the living presence of a living God. I call this the “the door is now open but just act normal” phase because if people actually know what goes on in your head at this stage, they will think you are bonkers, so you have to be a bit careful with your divine laughter and speak little of your random acts of kindness, for such things tend to make people suspicious.
Let me tell you a story about a moment when I was still grieving the loss of some old beliefs and wasn’t quite ready to trust the new. I had been the pastor of a UCC church in downtown Springfield, Massachusetts for a number of years. Over the years nearly everything that had been true about the church became no longer true. From a much older, white, wealthy, well-educated suburban congregation which happened to meet in a grand old Victorian church building downtown, we had become, as we described it, a “Jesus-centered, multi-racial, open and affirming church at the heart of the city.” Now word got out a bit about South Church and our changes. One day I got a call from a reporter from a news outlet in Boston. She wanted to come out all the way from Boston and interview me about the story of South Congregational Church. I was flattered and not a little astonished. You have to understand that most people who live and work in Boston have no idea that there is a Massachusetts outside of Interstate 495. But this was my chance to gain a little notoriety and tell the story. The next day the reporter and I sat down and she immediately got to her task. She wanted to know all about our successes and what compelling stories might be told to interest her reading audience. So I told her a story that seemed compelling to me. I told her about a time, quite recent, when, because of a political battle about control over funding in Springfield, there was no homeless shelter in the city. A group of churches got together to provide safe, open and free overnight shelter for homeless folks in the interim, an interim which turned out to be two years. Our church, South Church, took Friday and Saturday nights during the cold months. We had a lot to learn, I said, about being open and feeling safe. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could write a check for; people in the church actually had to get personally involved in hosting our guests. We learned quickly that there is never enough toilet paper in a shelter, and we learned the hard way that we needed to replace all the glass in the doors inside the church, replacing it with safety glass that does not shatter when people punch it. We learned that after our guests had gone early Sunday mornings, the whole church smelled……well, kind of ripe. But maybe most poignantly we learned how to pray for and with our new friends. So here’s what happened.
One evening I approached the building while folks were signing in for the night. A police car pulled in the parking lot and I noticed immediately the car wasn’t from Springfield, it was from one of the outlying towns, Wilbraham, quite a wealthy town quite conscious of its distance from the city. The Wilbraham police car pulled up beside me and the cop got out of the car and told me that he had a man from Wilbraham in the back of the car who needed shelter. He didn’t really explain why except to say that the man was in a mess and had no place to go. Then he said these words: “I heard that your church is a safe place.”
I cannot explain what it meant to me that word was out we were a safe place. Not just a word, “safe” but a truth. Word was out. This was a big clue that we were on the right path; that we who had worshiped our fine collection of communion silver and hostess china, and our antiques in the church parlor – we even had a beautiful embroidered armchair that was roped off so nobody could sit in it – we, even we, had stumbled into acting like the living presence of a living God.
"So," the reporter asked, "What is that man’s name and how can I get a hold of him?"
"I don’t know that I ever knew his name," I told her.
"Who else can give me some details?", she asked.
"I don’t know," I said, It was just so busy that I lost track.
"So, you don’t know what happened to him?", she probed.
"Well, no," I said. "Our job was just being a safe place for a night."
"Well," she said, "I can’t write about that. There’s really no story here people can grab on to."
She was right, you know. That story wouldn’t have found a spot on the back page under the horoscopes. Nobody really cares about a safe place in a distant city – unless perhaps once you have known what it’s like not to be safe and to have no place to lay your head down.
I continue to be hungry to be and to be with people who get broken open even if it sometimes takes getting broken down in the process. I want to be with people who believe the hunt for clues that God leaves for us, is worth it. If there is church, I want it to be church that holds its doors open and itself accountable for what happens inside. If we say we are safe, then let’s learn what “safe” really means. If we are going to be faithful, then let’s learn how to be faithful when everything inside and outside are changing. If we say we are about “love” then let’s be willing to show that love doesn’t make exceptions. In the wonderful words of Paul in the reading this morning, there is no law against such things. There is no law and nothing actually holding us back from breaking open to be the living presence of a living God.
Except that once in a while we might have to pretend to “act normal” just so we don’t scare people.
Amen.
Galatians 5:1, 13-25 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) 5 1 For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery. 13 For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters;[a] only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence,[b] but through love become slaves to one another. 14 For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 15 If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another 16 Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17 For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. 19 Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, 21 envy,[c] drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. 24 And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
Someone once said that you can either be broken down by life or be broken open. Broken down – disappointed, resentful, blaming others, reactive, closed-minded, shut down –- or broken open – honest, self-aware, curious, patient, joyful, willing to be vulnerable and be changed. I am hungry to be and to be in the company of those who are broken open.
Paul’s Letter to the Galatians this morning says that the one state (broken down) is a state of slavery, the other (broken open) is a state of freedom. I am hungry to be and to be in the company of the free.
There are, I believe, roughly three movements in breaking open and getting free. (These are my words. It is quite possible you could describe the same thing in very different words). The first movement is a moment when it dawns on you that much (if not all) of what you have believed in your life is simply not the truth – or at the very least is no longer true for you. It may be a big dramatic, heart-wrenching moment when everything comes crashing down, or it may be a quiet “uh-oh” of a realization that steals upon you without warning. I call this first movement the “crack of the door.”
I call the second movement, “bracing the open door.” That’s because it takes a willingness bordering on desperation to remain open and not run for cover while the dust of the old beliefs settles and you wonder and doubt what’s coming next. It is a time to notice the small clues right in front of you because the small clues can lead you to a new and astonishing awareness. In spite of our fears, God will not leave us without these holy breadcrumbs. To actually follow the breadcrumbs – that’s our job.
The third movement takes place as more awareness of truth enters and takes hold. You become less reactive, you are no longer in constant, vigilant fear mode, and trust creeps in. Trust takes over that there is a field of truth and wisdom in which you belong. In which you have always belonged. It is a moment when you realize that you are the living presence of a living God. I call this the “the door is now open but just act normal” phase because if people actually know what goes on in your head at this stage, they will think you are bonkers, so you have to be a bit careful with your divine laughter and speak little of your random acts of kindness, for such things tend to make people suspicious.
Let me tell you a story about a moment when I was still grieving the loss of some old beliefs and wasn’t quite ready to trust the new. I had been the pastor of a UCC church in downtown Springfield, Massachusetts for a number of years. Over the years nearly everything that had been true about the church became no longer true. From a much older, white, wealthy, well-educated suburban congregation which happened to meet in a grand old Victorian church building downtown, we had become, as we described it, a “Jesus-centered, multi-racial, open and affirming church at the heart of the city.” Now word got out a bit about South Church and our changes. One day I got a call from a reporter from a news outlet in Boston. She wanted to come out all the way from Boston and interview me about the story of South Congregational Church. I was flattered and not a little astonished. You have to understand that most people who live and work in Boston have no idea that there is a Massachusetts outside of Interstate 495. But this was my chance to gain a little notoriety and tell the story. The next day the reporter and I sat down and she immediately got to her task. She wanted to know all about our successes and what compelling stories might be told to interest her reading audience. So I told her a story that seemed compelling to me. I told her about a time, quite recent, when, because of a political battle about control over funding in Springfield, there was no homeless shelter in the city. A group of churches got together to provide safe, open and free overnight shelter for homeless folks in the interim, an interim which turned out to be two years. Our church, South Church, took Friday and Saturday nights during the cold months. We had a lot to learn, I said, about being open and feeling safe. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could write a check for; people in the church actually had to get personally involved in hosting our guests. We learned quickly that there is never enough toilet paper in a shelter, and we learned the hard way that we needed to replace all the glass in the doors inside the church, replacing it with safety glass that does not shatter when people punch it. We learned that after our guests had gone early Sunday mornings, the whole church smelled……well, kind of ripe. But maybe most poignantly we learned how to pray for and with our new friends. So here’s what happened.
One evening I approached the building while folks were signing in for the night. A police car pulled in the parking lot and I noticed immediately the car wasn’t from Springfield, it was from one of the outlying towns, Wilbraham, quite a wealthy town quite conscious of its distance from the city. The Wilbraham police car pulled up beside me and the cop got out of the car and told me that he had a man from Wilbraham in the back of the car who needed shelter. He didn’t really explain why except to say that the man was in a mess and had no place to go. Then he said these words: “I heard that your church is a safe place.”
I cannot explain what it meant to me that word was out we were a safe place. Not just a word, “safe” but a truth. Word was out. This was a big clue that we were on the right path; that we who had worshiped our fine collection of communion silver and hostess china, and our antiques in the church parlor – we even had a beautiful embroidered armchair that was roped off so nobody could sit in it – we, even we, had stumbled into acting like the living presence of a living God.
"So," the reporter asked, "What is that man’s name and how can I get a hold of him?"
"I don’t know that I ever knew his name," I told her.
"Who else can give me some details?", she asked.
"I don’t know," I said, It was just so busy that I lost track.
"So, you don’t know what happened to him?", she probed.
"Well, no," I said. "Our job was just being a safe place for a night."
"Well," she said, "I can’t write about that. There’s really no story here people can grab on to."
She was right, you know. That story wouldn’t have found a spot on the back page under the horoscopes. Nobody really cares about a safe place in a distant city – unless perhaps once you have known what it’s like not to be safe and to have no place to lay your head down.
I continue to be hungry to be and to be with people who get broken open even if it sometimes takes getting broken down in the process. I want to be with people who believe the hunt for clues that God leaves for us, is worth it. If there is church, I want it to be church that holds its doors open and itself accountable for what happens inside. If we say we are safe, then let’s learn what “safe” really means. If we are going to be faithful, then let’s learn how to be faithful when everything inside and outside are changing. If we say we are about “love” then let’s be willing to show that love doesn’t make exceptions. In the wonderful words of Paul in the reading this morning, there is no law against such things. There is no law and nothing actually holding us back from breaking open to be the living presence of a living God.
Except that once in a while we might have to pretend to “act normal” just so we don’t scare people.
Amen.