Treasure Huntin' by Rosie Best (with an assist by Patti Lusher)

“This is why we get nothing done!” You might be thinking that these words were spoken to a child who was asking for more attention than was available, but alas no… Romeo was making it very difficult to get a set of coherent thoughts together and was actually more intent on playing than on letting Mommy work on the sermon for today. At 12 weeks of age, Romeo is very needy, and mommy was very busy trying to balance the needs of the sermon with the article review that is due on Monday night and the discussion board post that must be completed by midnight tonight. Romeo doesn’t care about all the deadlines that mommy is facing… he just wants her to play. He’s a puppy.

            Have you ever had one of those days where, in spite of your best efforts, you aren’t getting anything done? Sometimes it isn’t that there are external obstacles in the way, it’s just that we don’t have the energy, or we feel totally depleted of all our resources. Have you ever had one of those days? How about weeks… years…? The first time I preached at the Village Church was before I started attending the church, it was February 2012. I was living in Columbus at the time, because I was doing some study at THE OSU. I gave a strong testimony of how God had met me in my life and in my journey to understand who I was as a woman who loved a woman. I didn’t know that about two weeks later my world was about to fall apart.

           

Without getting into the details of all that happened, within a month of preaching that sermon, I was living in my friend’s basement, my hopes of gaining my PhD in theatre in tatters, and my professional aspirations in the toilet. It was one of the most horrible experiences of my life, and it left me floundering. You’d think it would make me hesitant to preach at the Village again! But here I am, as testimony to God’s grace, provision, and comfort. I’d like to say that it was a swift recovery, and that I was able to put the pieces of my life back together easily, but that wouldn’t be true. In fact, the situation that I was in got way worse before it ever started to get better. Insult was added to injury and along the way I lost some friends who I had previously relied upon. I felt utterly bereft, and adrift in the world.

            During the first week of this ‘new normal’ as I started to call it, I accompanied my friends to a church that I wouldn’t normally attend (the theology wouldn’t welcome my ‘choices’ in life) and the first song was Kelly Clarkson’s “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I listened to the song in tears…I wasn’t wanting to be strong, and to be honest, I felt like I was dying. Then came the sermon, and it was the verses that we read today from 2 Corinthians 4, about being crushed and not counted out.  As we walked back to the car, my friend John leaned over to me and said, “I hope you don’t mind, I texted the pastor about your situation!” He was joking, of course, but it was uncanny how God had spoken to me through the sermon and without the specific use of my name, I had been assured that God was with me, even if I felt totally abandoned in that moment.  Have you ever been to one of those services with hundreds of people, and the sermon is like a message straight to you?

            It would be wonderful if we could be assured that coming to God meant that we would never have any difficulties or disappointments, but that wouldn’t be true. God doesn’t promise us that we will not have struggles but rather that God’s presence will be fully with us in those struggles.

Back when I was 20, I was asked to describe my walk with God. I was interviewing for a position with Youth for Christ back in England. My father had died about 6 months before the interview, and I asked the panel if they were familiar with the “Footprints” poem, where the person is on the beach and sees two sets of footprints, except when the person is going through really dark times, the person asks God, “Why did you leave me when things got so difficult?” and God replies, “I never left you, those were the times I carried you.” So as I answered the panel of interviewers, I said, “I am being carried.” It was a humble and honest statement. I had no sense of victory, I just had a sense that God was with me in my struggle.

            There is, I believe, a distinct lack of humility in the proclamations of some believers in this day and age. Some shout so loudly with sentiments that smack of arrogance, not humility. You know the type of expressions? Where the shouter seems more fueled by hatred, and anger, than by genuine concern and grace. And lest you think I’m talking about the old established churches, this lack of humility can be evident as much in young churches as it can in old.

            So it’s really important to remember that it IS through God’s mercy that we have any ministry that we have. It’s not because God’s been impressed with our resume or our degrees. We are fragile and vulnerable people – which makes us the best kind of people to reach out to other fragile and vulnerable people. Jars of clay are not vaults of safety – they are prone to being broken. And yet, God has assured us through this passage, that we are not going to be crushed or destroyed even though we may feel hard pressed, perplexed and persecuted.

            In this scripture, we’re invited to learn to say the truth plainly. That means that, when you hear people say “God hates the sin but loves the sinner,” we need to say “God loves, period.”  I stand here, not to say look at me, but look at Jesus. He is mighty in me, I am not mighty.  The light shines out of the darkness. Whenever there is more darkness than light, it means God is excavating.

            I’m prone to anger when I see injustice, and I forget to stop and pray for the person who is persecuting others. It’s not about them, it’s about me.  What is Jesus trying to call attention to in me? I need to be humble, to let the treasure speak for itself, what God has put in my heart, to show that the all-surpassing power is from God, not from us.

            If you are dealing with depression or anxiety, you might have days when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel without assuming that there is, in fact, a train coming.  There is still so much stigma about mental health issues.  This is part of my fragility, that God has made me someone who does suffer from depression, and yet, he shines through me. We need to embrace our fragility, in order that we can shine more beautifully as God has made us.   I think today’s reading reminds us of this. But I also believe that we need to look out for those around us who might need some help along the way. They might be doing the equivalent of living in the basement, and need us to check on them. Let’s be open to one another with grace, humility, and a hug if necessary.  And if they tell us of their struggles, have the courage to say, “Me, too.”  Amen.