Year A, Proper 9

8^th Sunday of Pentecost

7/6/2008

For 16 years, my family had Nimitz the wonder dog. Nimitz was ¾ cocker spaniel and ¼ possum. Nimitz was the oddest looking dog in Christendom. His fat, hairy body was too big for his little legs, so when he ran, his feet turned out and his hips swayed. He had cute, proportionate ears, but his nose stuck out too far. Every time you looked at him, you wanted to hit him in the face with a pan to push his nose back in to the correct dimension. His furry tail was beautiful, but way too long for his body. We loved that dog, but he was ugly. Apart from his unusual appearance, Nimitz was quite bright, extremely brave, and exceptionally loyal. He had impeccable manners and an even temper. Nimitz was the best family pet and a credit to his species, except for one disconcerting flaw.

Whenever I returned from a business trip, Nimitz would prance all around me. He would run around in circles, dart in and out of my legs as I made my way into the house. He’d be full of kinetic energy and just as I’d reach down to pet him, he’d jump away. He’s dancing in and out, I’m going up and down – it was a ridiculous exercise! At first I was completely puzzled. What is this dog’s problem? Later, as the pattern repeated itself, I realized Nimitz had missed me and he wanted to be near to me, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to come close. He just couldn’t settle down and allow me to pet him. He could not do the thing he wanted to do! 

And if this behavior wasn’t strange enough, every time he saw me pack my suitcase at the beginning of a trip, he’d lose his mind again. He soon figured out that luggage on my bed meant I was going away and sometime in the next hours he’d take , chew and hide on of my shoes. That dog knew how I felt about my shoes. I’d find buckles and leather shreds and bitten heels peeking under the dust ruffle and behind the china cabinet. Nimitz would slink around the house avoiding eye contact. He’d look miserable and pitiful. Every time, every time he gnawed my pumps, heals and sling backs to unrecognizable pieces, he would look utterly remorseful and full of consternation.

He had done the very thing he hated, the exact thing he did not want to do. Nimitz, the wonder dog, the best pet we’d ever had, could not control his problematic nature. After his shoe attacks, or amid his pet me/don’t touch me dance, he’d get the most confused look. It was as if Paul’s words were passing right through his brain. “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, I do the very thing I hate. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. I do not do the good I want to do, but instead the bad thing that I do not want to do is what I do!”

Poor Nimitz! Poor, furry, little creature. He wanted to be close and in good relationship with his master, but anxiety and nonsense got in his way. He behaved in ways that separated him from the affection he so wanted. He acted in ways contrary to his best interests. And, he frustrated the one who had the power and the heart to take care of his every need. In the pet-human world, this kind of disobedience is considered a nuisance. In the world of God and man, this behavior is recognized as sin.

Humans know in our innermost spiritual core what is right and true. We are built and designed to desire that good thing. Human beings, in their very nature, understand the benefits of righteous and healthy behavior. We want to do the good deed. We want to avoid the evil thing. We recognize the difference and we even understand that the good thing will always bring us what is ultimately best for us. 

When we act as our Lord, our master expects, our lives are secure, calm and filled with blessings. When we act contrary to our Lord and master, we find ourselves agitated, unsettled, grieved and unsure. Our bad choices, our basic disobedience separates us from the very source of the love we most desire. Our nonsense blows up a bridge and creates a chasm between us and the affection, the well-being guaranteed us in the relationship between God and his beloved children. Sin is the foolishness we create for ourselves which grieves the one who loves us best and brings us nothing but frustration and self-disappointment. 

“I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but instead do the very thing I don’t want to do. I understand what is right, but I won’t make myself do it. Sometimes I do exactly what I know I shouldn’t.” This is the unattractive side of human nature. This propensity to act contrary to our best interests and the will of a gracious, generous God is our misshapened proportion. It’s our too pointed nose, our ridiculous tail, our acts of defiance, is our sin and it is our ugliness. Thank God, Thanks be to God, that he sees that ugly aspect and loves us anyway. Thank God, Thanks be to God that he has the will and inclination to endure our bad behavior rather than withhold his affection. Give thanks that he doesn’t get fed up and put us to sleep!!!

We are indeed fortunate to belong to such a benevolent master, but why would we want to grieve his heart and try his patience? If we could, would we not want to identify our irritating behavior and work to modify our maddening actions? What silly prancing are we doing? What shoes are we destroying? What is the name and nature of our personal sin, the thing that drives a wedge between us and the closeness of God? I’m guessing that when we examine our lives, we feel pretty self-satisfied. We feel pleased and confident that we’ve avoided SIN written large. I imagine that you, like me, have avoided murder and grand theft, selling arms to nefarious nations, selling unsafe products to unsuspecting consumers, robbing pension funds. I can smugly check those off my SIN inventory. Like most of you, I can even pass through the next level. I don’t lie or cheat or steal. I respect my parents and keep the Sabbath holy. I see you doing that as well.

No dear friends, my sin tends to be more subtle and more insidious. Right now, my sin of choice is impatience. I seem to be waging a losing battle and it’s getting worse. I’m becoming less and less patient as my time on earth lessens. My time is running out to do all things I want. My time is running out to see the world become a better version of itself. My time to make a difference is growing shorter and obstacles frustrate me. Like all good sin, I try to wiggle out of it. I say, “Well, I’m only impatient with those who deserve it! I’m very patient with children and really, really old people. I’m patient with the insane and anyone who is cognitively challenged. I’m just less tolerant with whiny, lazy, self-absorbed people. I’m only irritated by people who are oblivious to how their actions impact others. I’m just impatient with systems and processes that are unkind to others. Suddenly, my impatience tends into righteous indignation. Now, I’m a standard bearer for God’s mercy and justice. This is the scary aspect of sin. We can easily trick ourselves into thinking our bad behavior or negative attitude is somehow justified and even a positive attribute. And, if we don’t go that far, we often decide our disobedience to God’s ideal is not so bad, it’s not SIN, it’s only a character trait that needs shoring up. Seriously, how is impatience a true sin? Well, when I’m impatient with the speed in which a plan is unfolding, I’m not allowing for God’s timeliness. I’m not open to God’s movement or influence in shaping the outcome. When I’m irritated with someone’s complaining or slackness or selfishness, I’m not open to God’s spirit working within the person accomplishing some mighty change. I’m pessimistic rather than hopeful. My negativity separates me from easy access to God and this is SIN. So, that’s what I’m working on – increased patience, decreased agitation. What’s your SIN of choice these days? 

For many folk in America today, worry tops the list. Faithful people today seem to forget the providence of God. They ignore the established truth that God prospers good, that God knows every hair on every head and will see that ultimately we will rest safe and sure in his hands. Worry signals our lack of trust in God’s involvement in our lives. For other people, holding on to hurts is their prominent sin. The inability or unwillingness to let go of slights, bruised feelings, unkind acts perpetrated on our vulnerable psyches is prevalent in this generation. Withholding forgiveness limits God’s promise to enact positive change in people. Refusing to trust again, move forward, accept anew says to God, I don’t really believe you will protect my heart. I don’t really believe you can affect good in that mean person who hurt me. Doubting the goodness of God puts distance between us. This distance is SIN.

Another popular sin of our day is “fiscal responsibility.” I know, I know this sounds like a virtue, but sin often wears a lovely, tasteful suit! Fiscal responsibility can be the name we use for holding tightly the resources God allows us to manage for our time on earth. Fiscal responsibility can be the term we use when we’re living in a paradigm of not enough rather than plenty for everyone. Fiscal responsibility can be a pretty name for fear and selfishness and its sin is not trusting God to provide and not caring for our brothers and sisters as we’ve been instructed to do.

Yes, we can feel good checking off the big, blatant headline capturing Sin, but it’s the petty, daily subtle challenges that continue to trip us up. “I do not understand my own actions,” Paul writes.  “Oh what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life dominated by sin. Ahh, Thank God! The answer is Jesus Christ our Lord.” Paul’s dilemma is our dilemma. His answer is ours also. The challenge before us today, in fact everyday, is to recognize and accept our prevailing Sin of choice and then to look to the model of Christ to help loosen its grip on our life. Christ is our help and our way out of this morass. Name, claim, redeem. In prayer and with the Son, we can put down the separating behaviors and draw closer to the Master. 

For this grace, we say thanks be to God.