St. John’s United Church

“THE GRACE OF LETTING GO”

“Jesus called the twelve followers together
and sent them out in groups of two…
to preach to the people to change their hearts and lives.”
(Mark 6:7,12)

The Korean War was raging. A little village came under heavy artillery fire. In the village stood a Catholic church. Outside the church, mounted on a pedestal, there was a fine statue of Christ. However, when the smoke of the battle cleared away, the statue had disappeared. It had been blown off its pedestal, and lay in pieces on the ground. A group of American soldiers helped the priest dig out and collect up the bits and pieces. Carefully, they helped him put the statue back together again. They found all the pieces except the hands. They offered to have the statue flown back to the States and have hands made for it, but the priest refused. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let’s leave it as it is without hands. And let’s write on the back, for all who pass by to see, these words: FRIEND, LEND ME YOUR HANDS.’ In that way, we may get them to see that Christ now has no hands but ours with which to raise up the fallen. He has no feet but ours to seek out the lost. He has no ears but ours to listen to the lonely. He has no tongue but ours to speak words of sympathy, comfort, and encouragement to those weighed down by sorrow, pain, and failure.

This incident captures well the message of today’s Gospel; for in this passage, we are reminded that Jesus involved the disciples in his work. He sent them out in two’s to all the surrounding villages. Two by two, they went out to serve. Things were so rough out there, that Jesus dared not send them alone. Teams of two also reinforced the concept that Christianity is a fellowship, a co-operative venture, a communal affair. The emphasis is not on the “lone wolf,” the individualist, or the prima dona, but, rather, on the community of the faithful.

“Take nothing for your trip except a walking stick,” Jesus instructed them. “Take no bread, no bag, no money in your pockets. Wear sandals, and take only the clothes you are wearing” (Mark 6:8-9). No mention of life insurance, unemployment insurance, or pension plans - none of the things that most of us feel are necessary today. Perhaps it was Jesus’ way of saying, “I want 100 percent commitment from you. That’s what it takes to be my disciple. For, the less materials one has, the more one needs to rely and depend on God.

Before going out, the disciples were also given “authority over evil spirits.” They were not going on their own initiative, nor on their own power. For, just as God had given Jesus authority, now, Jesus gave authority to his followers to preach and to teach and to heal. Finally, those who were being sent were also instructed to be vulnerable - to depend on the hospitality of those who would receive them, and to refrain from moving around looking for the most comfortable lodgings. “When you enter a house, stay there until you leave that place. If any town refuses to accept you, or its people refuse to listen to your words, then leave that town and shake the dust off your feet” (Mark 6:10-11).
What a surprising thing for Jesus to say! Can this be the same Jesus who tells of the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine sheep and risks all until he finds the one who is lost; or the father who waited upon the wayward prodigal son until he at last came home? At first glance, one might say, “No.” But think about it. Rejection and disappointment bracketed Jesus’ call to discipleship. And so, as he sent his disciples out to carry on his mission, he also warned them, up front, to expect rejection from some. Jesus had learned that the Gospel moves forward by persuasion, by conversion, by argument, and by enticement - not by coercion. Jesus talked about that a lot. Remember the parable about the good seed that fell on poor ground and that failed to take root? How about the wicked tenants who beat the master’s messengers or the honoured guests who refused the king’s invitation to the banquet? How about the rich young ruler who went away from Jesus sorrowful? And what about Jesus’ own death - a true story that certainly demonstrated the “rejectability” of his message? And yet… “Jesus called the twelve followers together and sent them out in groups of two… to preach to the people to change their hearts and lives” (Mark 6:7,12).

Most of us gathered here this morning are accustomed to thinking about discipleship in terms of faithful commitment, determination, ceaseless striving, and going the second mile. As a Christian Minister, I believe that there IS grace in going the second mile with someone, in the long night vigils, and in the hard-headed determination not to let go of someone until that person receives the help that he/she needs. But the question Jesus raises for us today is this: “Is there faithfulness in letting go? Is there ever a time when “the loving thing” or “the faithful thing” is to shake the dust off our feet and to move on?” His answer is, “Yes.” Just as a good teacher learns that there is a time to work with a student - to give encouragement, to supervise, to oversee - he/she also knows that there comes a time to let go - to let the student work at his/her own pace, in his/her own way.

Now, this grace of letting go comes after all other reasonable efforts have failed - after we have tried to be as faithful as possible in our friendship, or in our parenting, or in our daily Christian witness. Disciples don’t give up lightly, nor do they give up saying, “There, I’ve done all I can for you, now let the devil take you.” Rather, they say, “There, I’ve done all I can do. Now, let God take you.” For many people, that’s a hard lesson to learn and accept. It certainly was for the great modern-day preacher, William Willimon.

Early in his ministry, Rev. Willimon encountered a family suffering from alcoholism. “The whole family was afflicted with it - yet only one member of the family was actually an alcoholic — their 17-year old son. As is so often the case, his alcoholism infected everyone. I was delighted, “ Willimon recalls, “ when they came to me, their pastor, for help. I was delighted they were reaching out for help, even more delighted that they had the good sense to reach out to me. So, I jumped in with both feet. I counseled them individually; I counseled them as a group. I spent hours with the young man — going out in the middle of the night to pull him out of bars, bail him out of jail, and minister to his DT’s. But, if anything the problem grew worse. His drinking continued unabated. I was at my wit’s end. I had certainly tried everything. But he would not get better. I was even beginning to hate him for what he was doing to himself, to his family, and to me. He was making me look like a failure! ‘Don’t feel bad, preacher,’ his mother reassured me, ‘older and wiser pastors than you have tried and failed.’ I only felt worse. Salvation finally arrived, not in the form of an earnest young preacher, but in the form of an old, hardened, recovering alcoholic from Alcoholics Anonymous. ‘The first thing we need to do is to get rid of this preacher,’ he said. ‘You may be a very nice person, but you ain’t God! And there’s not a darn thing YOU can do to cure this boy.’ He went on to tell the parents that nothing could be done until they were convinced that their son’s problem was HIS problem. They must let go - literally, let go. The next time their son came home drunk, they were to lock him out of the house and give him the phone number of Alcoholics Anonymous. If he really hit bottom - if he were really ready to take on his own problems - then, he would call A.A. Strong response? Heard-hearted? Calloused? Perhaps. But this tough love was ultimately effective. Thank God, “Willimon reports, “A.A. reached him and he recovered.

In reflecting upon this incident, Willimon learned, much to his chagrin, there was an arrogance in some of his helpfulness. Yes, arrogance. For behind his inability to let go - to shake the dust of his feet — was his own blasphemous, arrogant assumption that he had it in his power to change anything he didn’t like about other people. And in so doing, he became an accomplice rather than a healer. Unwittingly, Willimon had robbed that young man of his dignity, relieved him of his responsibility for his own life, and when he refused to co-operate, despised him for making him look impotent. In short, Willimon’s response to the young man said more about his own needs to be a “good” pastor, than it did about his concern to help a truly troubled individual.

Sometimes, we need to let go in order to let God come. I think this was the urging of the man from A.A. For, with Mama and Daddy and the preacher - and everyone else - working on that young alcoholic, he had no room to confront his own problems, or to find his own solutions. He was too busy fighting everyone else’s efforts to change him into their image that he had no room to discover himself. But, when the door was shut, when his parents and the preacher shook the dust from their feet, he was able to start down the long, lonely road to recovery.

And so, today, in the light of this week’s reading, ask yourself: “Is there anything - anyone - some situation in my life - some problem - for which I need to shake the dust of my feet and let go?” If so, take your life and your problems, your failures and your heartaches, and lay them here before God. Offer up to God what we ourselves, by ourselves, cannot fix. Let go and let God. For, in God’s own good time and by God’s good grace, God can even transform rejection into a marvelous work of love. It’s a promise Jesus made to his disciples 2000 years ago. It’s a promise he makes to each and every one today who believes in him and who seek to follow in his way. And for that we can say, “Thanks be to God!” Amen and Amen.

Acknowledgements: Myra Garvin 1994; Dynamic Preaching

A sermon preached by the Rev. Myra Garvin at St. John’s United Church, Brockville on July 9, 2006 – Pentecost 5B