---

Open to God

Sunday, July 20, 2008
Rev. Janice Palm

Psalm 139:1-14; Romans 8:12-17, 22-25

Up until a few years ago on Halloween, I would greet trick or treaters at the door not only with a basket of goodies in my hand but with a Snoopy Dog like mask covering my face. It finally occurred to me that by wearing the mask, rather than endearing them to myself or any treats I might offer, I frightened and startled the little ones and had the slightly older ones just look at me thinking, I am sure, 'are you kidding me'! I keep my Snoopy Dog mask in my drawer now. I loved this mask of a sad-eyed, long-eared dog made out of felt cloth. Although, I must admit the parents who accompanied the children understood my attempt toward camaraderie and humor. My hiding behind a mask, however, was not acceptable to the children - the very ones with whom I was looking to make a connection.

Perhaps the adults recognized more easily that there was a person behind the cloth sewn dog face. Perhaps too adults aren't so surprised by meeting another whose face is less than forthright.

Do you ever find this? I not only observe but participate in answering automatically some questions that come each day. 'How are you?' 'How's your day been?' 'Fine, thanks.' 'Okay.' They are all-too-common everyday thoughtless exchanges. In some way, they are forms of congeniality and have their place; but they also can act as masks. It's not until we stop and ask, 'how are you really?' that we are given an opportunity to take off the mask and take away our distancing from one another.

I remember when I was in high school; I had another form of a mask that I wore. Growing up I didn't go around with 'popular' girls in my class; actually, I was far more comfortable having friendships with several of the guys in my class. We were taking the same courses and had similar interests. Back then I was really good at a certain kind of humor; you know the one-upmanship kind that had a tinge of sarcasm in it. It wasn't until I was in college that I realized that humor was a way of protecting me - self-preserving myself - something like a mask. The humor kept people from really knowing me or any of my vulnerabilities. It kept people at a safe distance. So late in college I decided then and there that I wouldn't use that kind of humor; at least, I would try my best not to use it as a tool to keep others at a distance.

Perhaps you don't have a Snoopy Dog mask and you don't revel in humor-making as I have described.

I am speaking of masks and keeping others at a distance because the psalm with which we began our worship speaks to this very thing and assumes a very different kind of relationship where there are no masks, and no distance is present. But rather than speaking of being in relationship with another human being, the psalm sings of God knowing us intimately. The psalmist/we said, "You have searched me and known me … even before a word is on my tongue …You pursue me behind and before …From where can I go from your spirit? …to the heights or depths, you are there. For it was you who formed my inward parts."

I admit, it is a hard thing to do - to remain open, vulnerable to another persons' caring. What if the other one finds me less than desirable? We know all too well how critical we are of our own selves. Certainly the one I work with, my neighbor, my friend, my father will see through to my inadequacies. We are fearful to go beyond the superficial criticism of ourselves to really look at who we are, fearing perhaps that we'll find even worse things that we aren't aware of.

For many the idea that God would know us is a comfortable piece - when we are in need, in pain, in joy. Perhaps it is through the sense of truly knowing God as love - pure and simple love, perhaps it 's being comfortable calling out, 'Abba' and being in a relationship with God. At other times and with others, the idea that God knows us raises the ante from a friend or colleague or neighbor knowing us - our inward thoughts before they are formed into words, our motives, our shortcomings - this is a pretty frightening thing. We wonder: to be known so intimately, are we worthy of God's love? Can we leave ourselves so open to God?

Relatively recently, Henry Rack wrote a new biography of Methodism's founder: John Wesley entitled Reasonable Enthusiast: John Wesley and the Rise of Methodism. Rather than picturing an idol or an icon of someone who is beyond humanity, Rack portrays John Wesley as a real person; John Wesley is someone with shortcomings and great gifts. I believe that if it hadn't been for some of the women John Wesley knew, Methodism would never have gotten anywhere. At the same time in many ways, women were John's nemesis. Perhaps you have heard of Wesley's experiment to come to Georgia to bring Christianity to the Native Americans. John ended up not working with the Native Americans. He did, however, much evangelism in and around Savannah. Because of previous entanglements and compromising distractions, John was encouraged to keep to his evangelization and counsel to town's folk and avoid any young women. He, however, met and became smitten by a young Sophy Hopky. Not able to be decisive (he hemmed and hawed) about his intention to marry her, he lost her to another suitor: Mr. Williamson. But this did not deter John Wesley from continuing to see Sophy in order ostensibly to keep her on the right path in faith. It is unclear how much jealousy played a role in his meeting with the now Mrs. Williamson and how much was truly out of caring for her soul. In the end, John Wesley refused to give communion to Sophy because she was not faithful to her promise of fasting and morning prayer. With further complicating factors, this whole affair ended with John Wesley on the run for his life and hopping a ship back to England in December of 1737.

He had been a failure in Savannah. He was truly at his lowest spiritually and emotionally as he headed back to England.

Even though Wesley had been preaching Christ and doing all the particulars required of one in ministry, I believe it was this incident that allowed him to come into true relationship with God. He could have gone into hiding as Jonah did - in a big fish. Certainly he felt himself unworthy and with no faith. With the help of the Moravians and Peter Bohler, it took Wesley months of looking at himself, in prayer and with scripture so he could open his whole self up to the presence of God. It took time until he could really sit and consider who he was - his whole self - in relation to God. With all his shortcomings - perhaps especially with his shortcomings so evident, he sat listening for God. He sat ready to be in relationship with God. That's what allowed for the Aldersgate experience that John Wesley had. That life changing experience is simply stated in Wesley's Journal: "In the evening, I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle of Romans. About quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death."

Our denominational name - Methodist - was a derogatory term in the late English 1720's; it meant enthusiast. Those Methodist were/are so busy/such doers. For Wesley, in the beginning, perhaps being so busy was a way of keeping others, keeping God at a distance. It's a way of keeping one's own self from knowing oneself. Perhaps until Savannah, Wesley had been in ministry in a frenetic way; so he could keep God from really knowing him - or so he hoped.

But our psalm attributed to David who is not a perfect one sings out; God knows our every wart and even so loves us.

I enjoy reading poetry. I particularly am taken by Mary Oliver, a contemporary poet. She was a Vermonter, taught at Bennington College and then moved to Cape Cod where she has lived for many, many years. She observes and writes of nature accurately and sees human characteristics and God moments displayed through them. More recently, she has begun introducing some poems written explicitly of God, Christ and her faith.

This one, Wild Geese, I think speaks to our fear of knowing ourselves and ultimately knowing God:

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like wild geese, harsh and exciting
- over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

In our world that calls us to be good at what we do and good at who we are, in this world that calls us to produce, that defines us by what we do: God is whispering if we would listen: I know you! Let yourself be led by the Spirit .You do not need to prove a thing. I love you just as you are. Hear Romans again: You are my child. Come. Find me in yourself. And live this life fully immersed in the life you alone are called to live; fully immersed in my love.

— Posted July 22, 2008