March 11, 2007 - "Risking Control"

Title: “Risking Control”
Text: Isaiah 55:1-9
Day: Lent 3C
Date: March 11, 2007

They called them “Team-Building Activities.” A clever euphemism if ever there was one. I spent a year on a traveling music ministry team called Watermark as part of a larger organization called Youth Encounter just after college. In preparation for this phenomenal year, the organization brought all of the teams together for a few weeks of training in South Dakota. The team I was on consisted of five other people, all about my age, all from different parts of the country and one from the country of Denmark. Since no one on any given team knew anyone else on their team, the leaders gave us a few days to get to know one another through discussions, through Bible studies, through games, and – you guessed it – through “Team-Building Activities.”
“Team-Building Activities.” Sounds a lot better than “Terror-Inducing Activities” – which is how I came to understand them. They are activities that are meant to grow a certain mutual feeling of trust among team members. One of the more common activities is actually called the “Trust Fall.” Ever heard of it? Well, this is the activity that they had us do at our Youth Encounter training. Here’s how it goes: one team member stands on a picnic table or chair with their heels dangling off the edge, hands and arms closely clutching their chest while the other members stand behind them on ground level, arms outstretched, ready to catch the designated team member once he or she begins the dreadful backwards fall.
Perhaps it sounds like fun to some of you, and indeed now that I’ve done it I can say that it is fun. But it is a lot harder to do than it sounds, and I’ll tell you why: when you are the designated “faller,” you are standing on the edge of a table, perfectly content and in control…as long as you stand on the table. But then, as you stand there a thousand scenarios begin to plague your mind: what if the team members behind you aren’t as strong as you think they are and you fall helplessly through their arms to the rocky ground below? After all, you don’t know them – they could be weaklings! What if one of them sneezes just as you begin to fall? Can the others support your weight? What if you don’t fall correctly, and you somehow come down head first? What if this is all a cruel joke? And the more these scenarios play through your head, the more you seriously consider simply standing on the edge of that picnic table forever.
The truth is situations like these happen in real life more than we would like, don’t they? There are numerous situations where we are forced to make a radical decision that offers us one way of keeping things the same (i.e., keeping things in “our” control) or another way of releasing control and entering into uncertainty and doubt. Medical situations are renowned for this terror-inducing capability, and unfortunately they are pretty common. I’m sure that there are several of you in this congregation who have your own stories of making difficult medical decisions for loved ones, even having to decide whether or not to take a loved one off life support. Let’s not make anything light of this: To make these kinds of life-and-death decisions feels an awful lot like you’re standing utterly alone at the edge of that picnic table, wondering what will happen to you if you fall.
And these radical situations find their way into every area of our lives: school, relationships, even our careers. I have talked with many people, some even in this congregation, who are struggling with decisions about leaving one job and thinking about starting another. To do so is an enormous risk, for it demands that you give up any control that you think you have and enter into a period of uncertainty.
So, you see – these “Team-Building Activities” and these difficult real life situations – they teach us that we quite simply hate surrendering control. Really, we hate it. We hate that feeling of uncertainty. We hate that feeling of risk. We hate that feeling of standing at the edge of a picnic table with our heels dangling over the edge, knowing that we have to do something, and yet it feels so good and comfortable to stay right here.
The Old Testament paints a peculiar picture for us of the character of God and of God’s people. Just last week we heard about the story of God and Abram in the book of Genesis. Pastor Tim discussed with us the enormous risk that God took in giving us the privilege to be God’s people in the world. And to signify the importance of this relationship, God made a covenant, an everlasting covenant with Abram. A covenant is nothing to be taken lightly. It demands that both parties involved uphold it, otherwise the covenant is null and void. Yet we know that humanity has never been good at upholding their end of the covenants, don’t we? We know from story after story after story in the Old Testament – and even in our lives today – that humanity always falls short.
I guess we could say that entering into a covenant is like being involved in a cosmic “Team-Building Activity.” Just close your eyes for a moment and picture this: You are standing in front of the largest picnic table you have ever seen. It is like a wooden mountain. Precariously standing atop this massive picnic table is God, and the whole of humanity is down below. God has entrusted us with some hefty responsibilities, and to signify God’s trust in our ability, the backward fall commences. Yet the fall is never broken. This is the constant story of the Old Testament: no matter how good our intentions, we never seem to be able to uphold our end of the deal.
The words of the prophet Isaiah this morning are spoken into the midst of a despairing community that is feeling the effects of constantly neglecting the covenants made with God. This was a people who had seen everything that they once held dear stripped away from them. Those who once lived in Jerusalem saw the mighty Babylonian army trample the entire city underfoot. Nothing was spared. Even the temple itself – the very dwelling place of God Almighty – was destroyed. The Israelites were conquered, and this meant another period of exile, another period of uncertainty and doubt. And, according to the prophets, it all happened because they did not uphold their end of the covenant.
But the words we hear from God through the prophet Isaiah are not words of judgment. They are not words of scorn. They are not words of wrath. They are instead refreshing, healing, uplifting, hopeful words of comfort. Words signifying that, though humanity has yet again failed to uphold their end of the covenant, God does not treat it as worthless.
“Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” (Isaiah 55:1 NRSV)
These are incredible words of love. Instead of disregarding the covenant, God redefines the idea of covenant by upholding both ends at once.
Going back to the image of the cosmic picnic table again, it is as though the whole of humanity, everyone, is on the picnic table with their heels precariously dangling off the edge. Behind them, waiting patiently and graciously is God, arms outstretched to catch them whenever they muster enough courage to fall off the edge by putting their trust, their faith, their entire lives in God alone.
And yet to do so is incredibly difficult. To put all of our trust and faith in God means that we have to recognize that we don’t have any control over God. It means recognizing that we don’t have all the answers to life’s difficult situations.
And yet God invites us to live this way, to live without fear, to trust God enough that we can surrender our highly coveted sense of control.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts,” says the Lord.
This is the invitation to the abundant life that God would have us live. An invitation to take a leap of faith. To risk our sense of control. To fall helplessly backwards into the outstretched arms of our God [pointing to cross], knowing that these strong arms really can uphold us, that these strong arms really can support us, and that these strong arms will never let us down.
Amen.