Thursday, 2 April 2020

Trust and the everlasting arms/wings of God


Sermon for Sunday 22nd March 2020, St Matthew's, Oxford


Readings: Luke 13: 31-35 and Isaiah 49: 14-18



Today it is, of course, impossible to give a sermon without mentioning the Corona Virus and the extraordinary situation we find ourselves in because of the pandemic.   It is also, of course, Mother’s Day and the fourth Sunday in Lent: three weeks before Easter: the day we would normally give out daffodils here at St Matthew’s.   We are now also two weeks away from Palm Sunday when we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey and our gospel reading today records an incident on the way to Jerusalem. 

Today my theme is ‘Trust’ prompted by our readings, which are about motherly aspects of God and the trust we can have in God’s mother-like protective arms, but also by a phrase in a song that you can find at the end of Deuteronomy where Moses sings about ‘ the everlasting arms of God.’  I should also say that some of my reflections comes from a Thought for the Day, on Friday, from Richard Harries.

So we find ourselves in a strange new world where church services have to be conducted via the Internet rather than in person.  Now all new situations provoke anxiety even if the change to our lives is relatively minor.   And the Corona Virus pandemic promises to lead to major changes to our lives whether we catch it or not.   And of course these changes are not just to our holiday plans but to our very health and wellbeing.

Now anxiety about the future is to some extent a good thing: it prompts us to plan and to take control with the rational part of our being.   In this situation we can do sensible things like washing our hands regularly, avoiding physical contact with others as much as possible, self-isolating if we catch the disease, etc.   And the Government too, can take measures to protect us.

But planning only takes us so far, firstly because we are not just rational but emotional beings and secondly because we can only rationally plan for the future in as much as we can predict what will happen.   The emotional side of our being means we are affected by anxiety about the future to different degrees.   Some are overcome by anxiety, some seem not to worry at all, even in the most normal of times let alone in times of crisis. .

But it is also the case that what will happen is always inherently uncertain and unpredictable to a larger degree than we may care to admit to ourselves. As the write of Ecclesiastes says:  ‘No one knows when their hour will come.’[1] And Jesus also says something similar when he talks about his second coming.  He says in St Matthew’s Gospel ‘But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father’.

So there are things about the future we just cannot know or predict.  And let us remember that we might not know our own future but God does: the hour Jesus’s return my not be known to him but it is known to the Father.  Furthermore the uncertainty inherent in life – revealed in situations like the one we find ourselves today - makes us realise that ultimately we are not in as much control of things as we might think we are. 

Now again, people react to uncertainty in different ways.  Some adopt a resigned fatalism, some a cheerful stoicism.  But the message of the Bible, and of our readings today, is that we should go beyond pessimistic fatalism or over-resigned stoicism. 

The scriptures, in both Old and New Testaments, urge an ultimate trust which, far from merely propping us up like a crutch, should empower us to take action.   Beyond what might seem immediately apparent, the Bible says, are the purposes of God.   Paul say: ‘We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.’    And Moses sings: ‘The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms’ [2].   Note that the arms are everlasting: they don’t run out, unlike the proverbial toilet roll. 

These everlasting arms are invoked by Isaiah when he says, in our Old Testament reading today: ‘Can a woman forget her nursing-child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I [the Lord] will not forget you’[3]   And the Psalmist[4], extending the image of the all-powerful arms to the protective wings of a mother hen under which her chicks can hide in times of danger, says:
‘You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
    who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress;
    my God, in whom I trust.”
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
    and from the deadly pestilence;
he will cover you with his pinions,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;’

Jesus, in our Gospel reading today, is put into a risky situation where he must trust God.  On his way to Jerusalem he is accosted with some friendly Pharisees who warn him of a threat to his life from Herod – the ruler of Galilee.  Jesus tells them that he is set on a course of action from which he will not be diverted.  He tells them that he has work to do – casting out demons and performing cures – which he intends to complete and then, instead of reassuring those around him that he will avoid danger, tells them he must be on his way to Jerusalem – the city that kills its prophets – and the place of greatest danger for him.

This wasn’t to say that Jesus wasn’t acting rationally in the situation he found himself in, or even that he wasn’t concerned about the threat from Herod.   It is just that in the end he felt, he trusted, that some things were more important that his own personal safety – as those who are working for us in our National Health Service today must also feel.

The value of this ultimate trust in God is that it directs us away from worrying too much about the future and directs us towards living fully in the now.   The eighteenth century priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade talked about the “sacrament of the present moment”.  He believed that receiving the present moment, just as we receive the body of Christ at Communion, and giving ourselves wholly to it, constitute life’s highest and holiest calling.   

One of the unexpected results of the Corona Virus pandemic might be that we come more fully to recognise that living for the now is more important that living for an imagined future.  And in this begin to discover a new joy and a deeper compassion for those around us as we trust in the everlasting arms of God.



[1] Ecclesiastes 9: 1
[2] Deuteronomy33.27
[3] Isaiah 49
[4] Psalm 19

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