A visit to The Text This Week website is usually the third step in my sermon writing process. In fact, it is my home page. Jenee Woodard, the curator of TTTW, offers an incredible gift to the church through her work. There is a link to make a donation, but she charges no subscription fee to peruse her extensive library of collected and organized links to hundreds of biblical study and preaching resources. Check it out here.
I mention TTTW because this week Rev. Woodard features a Barbara Brown Taylor quote that stops me cold.
"That hollowness we sometimes feel is not a sign of something gone wrong. It is the holy of holies inside of us, the uncluttered throne room of the Lord our God. Nothing on earth can fill it, but that does not stop us from trying. Whenever we start feeling too empty inside, we stick our pacifiers into our mouths and suck for all we are worth. They do not nourish us, but at least they plug the hole."
If you have heard me preach more than three times you've probably heard me reference BBT's writing. She's my favorite preacher to read. The quote is from an article in The Christian Century ("Settling for Less," February 18, 1998, page 169). You can read her whole article here, or archived at Religion Online here. But, you really want to read it.
Trust me.
Settling for Less (Luke 4:1-13)
1Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. 3The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” 4Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” 5Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 9Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ 11and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 12Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.
When the world did not end as Jesus himself had said it would, his followers stopped expecting so much from God or from themselves. They hung a wooden cross on the wall and settled back into their more or less comfortable routines, remembering their once passionate devotion to God the way they
remembered the other enthusiasms
of their youth.
Little by little, Christians became devoted to their comforts instead: the soft couch, the flannel sheets, the leg of lamb roasted with rosemary. These things made them feel safe and cared for -- if not by God, then by themselves. They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian, and before long it was very hard to pick them out from the population at large. They no longer distinguished themselves by their bold love for one another. They did not get arrested for championing the poor. They blended in. They avoided extremes. They decided to be nice instead of holy, and God moaned out loud.
Hearing that, someone suggested it was time to call
Christians back to their senses, and the Bible offered some clues about
how to do that. Israel spent 40 years in the wilderness learning to
trust the Lord. Elijah spent 40 days there before hearing the still,
small voice of God on the same mountain where Moses spent 40 days
listening to God give the law. There was also Luke’s story about Jesus’
own 40 days in the wilderness during which he was sorely tested by the
devil. It was hard. It was awful. It was necessary, if only for the
story. Those of us who believe it have proof that it is humanly possible
to remain loyal to God.
So the early church announced a season of Lent, from the old English word lenten, meaning "spring" -- not only a reference to the season before Easter, but also an invitation to a springtime for the soul. Forty days to cleanse the system and open the eyes to what remains when all comfort is gone. Forty days to remember what it is like to live by the grace of God alone and not by what we can supply for ourselves.
I think of it as an Outward Bound for the soul. No
one has to sign up for it, but if you do then you give up the illusion
that you are in control of your life. You place yourself in the hands of
strangers who ask you to do foolhardy things, like walk backwards over a
precipice with nothing but a rope around your waist or climb a sheer
rock face with your fingers and toes. But none of these is the real
test, because while you are doing them you have plenty of people around
and lunch in a cooler.
The real test comes when you go solo. The strangers put you out all by yourself in the middle of nowhere and wish you luck for the next 24 hours. That is when you find out who you are. That is when you find out what you really miss and what you are really afraid of. Some people dream about their favorite food. Some long for a safe room with a door to lock and others just wish they had a pillow, but they all find out what their pacifiers are -- the habits, substances or surroundings they use to comfort themselves, to block out pain and fear.
Without those things they are suddenly exposed, like
someone addicted to painkillers whose prescription has just run out. It
is hard. It is awful. It is necessary, to encounter the world without
anesthesia, to find out what life is like with no comfort but God. I am
convinced that 99 percent of us are addicted to something, whether it is
eating, shopping, blaming or taking care of other people. The simplest
definition of an addiction is anything we use to fill the empty place
inside of us that belongs to God alone.
That hollowness we sometimes feel is not a sign of
something gone wrong. It is the holy of holies inside of us, the
uncluttered throne room of the Lord our God. Nothing on earth can fill
it, but that does not stop us from trying. Whenever we start feeling too
empty inside, we stick our pacifiers into our mouths and suck for all
we are worth. They do not nourish us, but at least they plug the hole.
To enter the wilderness is to leave them behind, and nothing is too small to give up. Even a chocolate bar will do. For 40 days, simply pay attention to how often your mind travels in that direction. Ask yourself why it happens when it happens. What is going on when you start craving a Mars bar? Are you hungry? Well, what is wrong with being hungry? Are you lonely? What is so bad about being alone? Try sitting with the feeling instead of fixing it and see what you find out.
Chances are you will hear a voice in your head that
keeps warning you what will happen if you give up your pacifier. "You’ll
starve. You’ll go nuts. You won’t be you anymore." If that does not
work, the voice will move to level two: "That’s not a pacifier. That’s a
power tool. Can’t you tell the difference?" If you do not fall for that
one, there is always level three: "If God really loves you, you can do
whatever you want. Why waste your time on this dumb exercise?"
If you do not know whom that voice belongs to, read Luke’s story again. Then tell the devil to get lost and decide what you will do for Lent. Better yet, decide whose you will be. Worship the Lord your God and serve no one else. Expect great things, from God and from yourself. Believe that everything is possible. Why should any of us settle for less?
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