Radical Expectations for Relationships

Sermon Audio for June 24

Yesterday I spoke to our need to have people in our lives whose views and perspectives differ from our own. We need the balance and variety of gifts they bring. We differ greatly, were created as such, and it is the power of the Eucharist that binds us together. The body of Christ, broken in love for us, should ever be our model for how we are to be in relationship with one another, with love at it's core. I asked if our egos were so delicate now that we can no longer engage in real conversation. The cultural norm today for how we are to interact with one another runs counter to the model set in scripture.

I don't post links to the audio for my sermons but am sharing today because of several requests I have had to make it available.

My apologies for not having any text to go with it. I don't preach from a manuscript or notes.

Peace and love to you all.

Mary+

A Cheerful. . . Receiver?

Part of my job is working as a chaplain at a middle school. I love this work. I love those baby adults so very much. They crack me up every day and they laugh at me on a regular basis. Today at lunch I told one of them that I saw her pitch at her game yesterday and that I was proud of her. She rolled her eyes and groaned.

I said, "What? You don't think it was a good game?"
Her response: "I pitched a terrible game yesterday! The worst."

I said, "Well, you were out their pitching, though. I can’t pitch like that and I’m proud of you." She continued to rolled her eyes and say what a bad game at was. She could not bring herself to say, "thank you."

Compare this to my five-year-old. He had a T-ball game on Monday and after the game I said, "Good game! You played well and I’m proud of you!"

His response? "I know. Thanks." Friends, he is not a genius T-ball player. He spent most of the game making designs in the dirt between second and third base, knelt on the ground next to his father. His big accomplishment was swinging the bat and hitting the ball rather than the T or his coach.

That’s it then. Middle school is the age when we no longer except a compliment as it is and have to excuse it away. That is when we become uncomfortable when someone tells us we’ve done a good job or has told us we look nice or that they are proud of us. We shift from self-assuredness and a simple, "thanks," to self-doubt and arguing with the person offering their love.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul says that we are to be a cheerful giver. In church we use the saying on and off throughout the year as our offertory sentence, just before we pass the plate. I say the first part of the passage, "The point is this: the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves. . ." and the congregation replies within an enthusiastic, "a cheerful giver!" I can't claim this practice. Our bishop introduced it a few years ago and it's become a part of our regular worship.

Yesterday I had lunch with a church member and he started to argue when I reached and paid for the bill. He interrupted himself and said with a laugh, "I guess I need to learn to be a cheerful receiver."

He hit it right on it. That’s it. We talk about being a cheerful giver, which is very important, but the reality is most of us are much worse at receiving than we are at giving. We are particularly terrible when someone is giving us a compliment or a pat on the back or anything we think we might not deserve. (Which pretty much is everything).

A lot of us are happy to give you anything: a compliment, cash, a ride to the airport, to babysit your kids when you’re having a bad day, or give you a gift certificate for your next cup of coffee because you look like you need one. But you turn around and do the same thing for us and we are all excuses and pardoning and shame and guilt. In our embarrassment and excuses. We make you look like an idiot because you thought we might possibly be worth it.

Of course, we do this for number of reasons. We don’t believe in ourselves; we think we should be able to do it by ourselves; we are self-sufficient and independent and can do it all on our own. "I don’t need your help because I’m capable enough and good enough and strong enough and know if I’ve done a good job or not."

The side effects of this is worse than we intend. We mean to be self-deprecating and humble but the result is that we have said to the other person, "I don’t need you;" or "I don’t think you’re good enough to take care of me;" or "I don’t trust you;" or "You don’t know what you’re talking about." None of us means this of course. We just don’t know how to handle a gift when it’s given to us.

Here’s the thing, though. How do you feel when you offer a compliment? Or offer to help a friend? Don’t you do it because you want to help that person? Don’t you offer, not out of obligation, but because you genuinely like that person and you want to help her? You cook the casserole and take it to the parents of a newborn because you remember what those first weeks were like. You take your friend out for a cup of coffee because you realize he could use a break. Or maybe you just would like some of his company.

The people who offer to help you feel the same way. They are offering because they love you. They are offering not so that you will be indebted to them. Most people try to help because they are your friend they love you and they are trying to minister to you.

I am not overstating this when I say it is a sin not to receive, and receive graciously. You aren't proving how tough, independent, and awesome you are. The people around you already know that. Instead, you are blocking the other person's opportunity to do ministry. You’re keeping them from doing what God is asking of them. Are you going to get in God’s way? Let other people do onto you as you do onto them. Let them pay for the dinner. Let them take your kids one Saturday afternoon so you can take a break. Let them bring you chicken soup when you get a cold. It’s their way of saying, "thank you" for all the times you have done the same. It’s their way of saying, "Hey! I love you and I see you. I see you could you some help." And take that compliment! People are proud of you and like what you're doing, wearing, or saying! There’s no shame in that.

I don’t say this lightly, by the way. I’m a terrible receiver. I hate asking for help. It has taken me years to allow people to do for me. I still feel guilty and I still do it reluctantly because most days I want to pretend that I am 100% self-sufficient. But I am always glad for the renewed relationship, the increased intimacy, the spirit-filled time we have together. This is only possible when I acknowledge, "Yes I could use some help. Thank you for that compliment."

May we strive to be a cheerful giver for it is, indeed, in giving that we receive. But may we also strive to be a cheerful receiver - stretching our arms out in love and humility to accept the gift someone is reaching out in love to give us.

"Popular" Does Not Equal Popular

Flash back to the sixth grade with me. Like every other sixth grade in history, we had a group of "popular" girls, who today would be called "mean girls" or "queen bees." It doesn't matter what you call them, the scenario is the same: a clique of girls rules the roost that is sixth grade in America. They have inside jokes, usually timed to make outsiders feel even more like outsiders. They laugh and cast sideways glances and sing songs taught to them by older siblings, rendering them just "the coolest."

For the better part of sixth grade, we were at the mercy of these girls. They decided who was in or out, what was cool, what clothes were trendy and what backpack was the fashion for that year. This was standard fare. The rest of us went along with it, wanting to make our hair look just-so but failing. These were the girls who the boys crushed on and who the boys asked to "go" with them. Surely we all wanted to be a part of that group, right?

The class trip that year was to Huntsville, Alabama, to visit the space center. Needless to say, we were completely excited about this. We reported to the school bright and early the morning of the trip and found two fifteen-passenger vans waiting for us (remember those days?). Oh. No. This meant the class had to divide up between the two vans, which left one fundamental question: who would end up in the van with the popular girls?

It would be understandable if you heard that question to mean "who would GET to ride in the van with the popular girls." Wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity to get in their group? To prove just how cool we were and could hang? That makes sense, but that is not how we felt. We were afraid we would get stuck in the car with the popular girls and suffer through several hours of inside jokes, sideways glances, and eye rolls.

One of the chaperones came to the side of the vans and said something that relieved us of our crippling stress: we didn't have to divide ourselves evenly between the vans. All they cared about was that everyone was on a van and ready to go. We did the only reasonable thing to be expected and all piled into one van while the popular girls piled into the other. Granted, there were twice as many of us as the popular girls, so we crammed into our van while they had plenty of room to spread out in theirs. They were delighted to have a whole van to themselves and we were delighted to not have to spend the next few hours with the "popular" girls.

Once we were on our way, I started thinking about the other van and looked at all the smiling and laughing faces in our van. That's when the confusion and realization set in: why were they the popular girls when none of us wanted to be around them? Was popularity as arbitrary as it now seemed to my sixth grade brain? Yes. Yes it was.

In an instant, I was liberated and learned a lesson that has carried me most of my life. It seems "popular" does not equal popular. We don't have to struggle to shoehorn ourselves into someone else's definition of what is cool or awesome or trendy because it's all made-up. Those are cultural constructs. Riding in a van from Georgia to Alabama I was surrounded by awesome kids who were laughing and having a great time because we had been freed from the prison of appealing to popularity. Suddenly we could be 100% authentically ourselves and we were having a blast. It was more fun not to give a rip about the popular girls.

Never again did I chain myself to the idea that "popular" was better. Never again did I try to jump into the popularity contest. I could simply be myself with my quirky fashion choices and goofy personality.

Friends, when your kiddos are struggling because of queen bees and boys who act like they're "all that," tell them about my van ride to Alabama and let them know it does get better. Tell them life is way more fun when you stop caring what the popular kids think and, instead, find the people who want to be with you just as you are. Be popular with the people who are comfortable in their own skin and thrive in diversity.

As a footnote, we all grew up and grew out of our popularity obsession. I became friends with all of those girls. No surprise to anyone, they have had the same trials and challenges of adulthood as the next person. Also, I'm still having fun dancing in the grocery store aisles and wearing clothes no one else seems to wear.