When I was training to be a Baptist Minister all of us had to endure being the victim in ‘Sermon Class’ once in our training. The idea was that a student (usually a 3rd year) would lead a service and preach a sermon in front of the college faculty and students. As if that wasn’t nerve-wracking enough, the whole college would then decamp to one of the lecture halls where designated students and staff would offer a critique of the service and the sermon, followed by a ‘free for all’. Sadly some of the critiques could be rather brutal – lacking grace and sensitivity. One particularly critical student became known as ‘Dr Death’!
I survived my sermon class ordeal without too much emotional or intellectual damage. But I do remember one of the observations from one of our tutors. I was preaching on the bizarre occasion when Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son, Isaac, on an altar (Genesis 22). The helpful observation was that I had not done justice to the darkness of the situation. I had preached in the light of the end of the narrative when God stopped Abraham and provided a ram for the sacrifice instead. But the point was (well) made that as it was happening it was an incredibly dark and painful thing to be asked to do. I needed to do justice to the darkness of the situation.
I have carried that with me for the past 33 years of ministry. We don’t do anyone any favours by glossing over the difficult bits of the Bible, or teaching (despite the evidence) that life as a follower of Jesus is always wonderful. The reality is that there are some tough bits in the Bible, but we can still learn and grow from them. And the reality is that life can be *~@$ (insert whatever negative word you want at this point).
To ignore the darker side of life discredits what we Christians believe. It makes us out to be deluded, liars, or worse. As someone who has had two rounds of open heart surgery it would be bonkers for me to claim that life is always hunky dory. I know that many of the people I have served as Minister over the years since my ordination have gone through horrendous situations (and still do).
The Christian hope is not that things will never go wrong. It’s not that we will live a perfect life. It’s not even just that everything will be alright in the end. The Christian hope is that Jesus offers a relationship with God who’s with us now (as the Spirit of God lives in us) and which continues through death into eternity.
That encourages me to do justice to the darkness because there’s hope. And sometimes doing justice to the darkness may not require words – just a hug, a handhold or even sitting with someone in silence until the moment for words arrives.
I finish with one of my poems from my recent book of poems (shameless plug) Playful Creativity (which you can buy from this link). It’s called Psalm 39¾ and is meant to be read just before you read Psalm 40…
I waited impatiently for the Lord,
Nick Lear
wondering how long I’d be stuck in this sewage-contaminated hole:
asking why the Lord hasn’t pulled me out yet?
I waited impatiently for the Lord,
hollering at the top of my holler “How could you let me fall in?”
angry that the Lord’s fence around the pit was climbable.
I waited impatiently for the Lord,
holding my nose,
breathing through my mouth and tasting the shit-stench:
angry at the Lord for giving me a sense of smell.
I waited impatiently for the Lord,
searching for hope in the deep darkness,
my eyes unable to adapt:
looking in vain for comfort and hope.
I waited impatiently for the Lord,
reluctantly resigned to my fate.
And, wallowing in the Stygian malodorous ichor,
I heard a voice beside me whisper
“Hello.”
Be blessed, be a blessing
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