Thy Will Be Done

Reverend Philip Stringer

Luke 13:31-35

LET US PRAY: Bless us, O God -- you who have given us every good thing -- bless us with ears that hear you speaking to us, and eyes that see you revealed, and hearts that are dedicated to your will for the sake of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the coming of his kingdom. AMEN

In the year 325, Bishop Alexander of Alexandria lay on his deathbed. Earlier that year, the First Council of Nicaea had met, producing most of what we refer to as the Nicene Creed, affirming the nature of the Son as being “one substance with the Father. Begotten, not made.”

Even so, the church faced great challenges, including the heresy of Arianism, and he knew that the church would need a great leader. So, he summoned his close friend Athanasius . . . who promptly ran away in fear.

Even so, Alexander named him as his preferred successor. Following his death, when the bishops of the Church assembled to elect their new Patriarch, the whole church population surrounded the church, calling out for Athanasius — and he was unanimously chosen as Patriarch.

Athanasius — well aware of the challenges ahead— was most unwilling to accept the role. But the people of the church and the bishops refused to accept any excuses and eventually he accepted the responsibility and was consecrated as Patriarch in the year 326. He was 30 years old.

He served for more than 40 years, during which time he spent 17 years in exiles imposed by four Roman Emperors. There were 6 additional episodes in which he fled Alexandria to escape people seeking to take his life.

In our world today, we find that the church continues to be challenged by those who find the message of the gospel offensive and who seek to destroy it.

Today our Scripture texts remind us that in a world of uncertainty and danger, God has spread God’s wings to gather and protect us.

Does it strike you as odd that Jesus uses the image of a chicken to describe himself? It’s not exactly a formidable image. I would prefer something more like “the Lion of Judah” -- He stands over us, his powerful legs around us, ready to tear our enemies to pieces. That’s more impressive.

Perhaps he was thinking along the lines of Benjamin Franklin, who thought that the Bald Eagle was a poor choice as our nation’s symbol. He said that the Bald Eagle is a bird of questionable character. Instead, he believed that the turkey would be a good choice. It is a bird of high character and dignity.

Jesus didn’t choose the image of a lion (or a turkey, thankfully). He chose a chicken-- and maybe he intended to show us something about the nature of his lordship and the ways of God. Not fierce and destructive, but gentle and nurturing.

Arius & Athanasius— what is worthy of worship?

Nevertheless, in a world of very real danger and uncertainty, a chicken isn’t the most comforting of images. The idea that just a few feathers stand between us and danger may not lead us to feelings of security . . . I suppose many people looked at Jesus the man the same way. For a people who had been waiting -- expecting a great warrior king to deliver them, Jesus was a bitter disappointment. A wandering rabbi -- a carpenter -- just a man by all appearance. Are we going to place the salvation of humanity in the hands of this road-weary man? Are we to believe that this is the best that God can do?

Digging out a tree stump — how hard can it be? Roots just kept going. Every time I thought I’d gotten through there’d be another one.

I eventually ended up using chains and a 2-ton chain hoist, along with a hatchet, pickax and shovel.

By the time I finished, I had dragged a massive root ball from the spot, and there was a crater 5-feet wide and nearly 3-feet deep in my yard. There was a lot more to that stump than I realized.

Those who followed Jesus were those who came to see that there was more to Jesus than met the eye. And more than is expected in his thin, gentle wings that enfold us.

Jesus gathers us under his wings in baptism. And to gather under his wings is not simply for protection from danger. Under Jesus’ wings we find a new life. A life in which we are not alone under his wings. We are GATHERED there in community; gathered into his body.

“Abide in my love” he told his disciples at another time. Live and move always in the shadow of my wings.

Jesus’ will was to seek out and follow the will of his Father. For us to be under his wings means that this becomes our will, too. For us to be under the wings of Jesus means that we will follow where he leads us; to model our lives by his example to live as servants; to live and give in godly love.

Are you able and willing to say no to the foxes of this world who would twist and destroy the meaning of life?

Are you willing and able to say no to the foxes in your life: in the church, in the nation, in the world?

Are you willing and able to say no to the foxes in your own heart?

Are we willing even to confess our failure to devote ourselves to the Father and the Father’s will?

Are we willing to confess the ways that we have been foxes — benefiting at the expense of others?

The Arian heresy lives on. Whenever we see action taken under the premise that “might makes right,” we see it raise its ugly head. And too often, the church has either been complacent or complicit.

Recently, in response to the surge in anti-immigrant and anti-refugee sentiments, Pope Francis wrote a letter to the Catholic bishops in the United States, in which he wrote, “What is built on the basis of force, and not on the truth about the equal dignity of every human being, begins badly and will end badly.”

I am reminded of the words of the author of Second Timothy, who wrote prophetically, “For the days are surely coming when people will not put up with sound teaching, but, having itching ears, they will raise up for themselves teachers to suit their own desires.”

And I wonder if we will have the will to say, “no” to the foxes of this world — and the foxes in our own hearts — and to follow the will of God, instead.

Jesus calls us to a new and better way, within the shadow of his wings; A way to which we should devote every ounce of our energy in following.

And we come here and gather under his wings because of this.

Yet even those who had stuck with him to the cross fell away in the end. In the end, our hope is not in our faithfulness. Our hope is in HIS faithfulness.

Life is different under the wings of Jesus -- not because of who we are, but because of who he is. The wings of a mother hen are not only for protection. They are for comfort and care. They are the wings of one brooding over us and reaching far beyond what any of us would expect.

Chicks might wander and scatter. But we can’t wander far enough to come out from beneath the shelter of his wings.

Only in Jesus do we have a home that can protect us from all that would harm us. Because in the face of temptation and trial --

in the face of danger and trickery and deceit --

in the face of a sinful world --

Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem. Jesus set his face toward the cross. That is the good news. You and I may fail; Jesus did not.

Jesus WILL spread his wings (CROSS) to shelter us. And to gather us. And to protect us.

Here in worship, the wings of God are still spread over us, and wrapping around us.

Consider the significance of this — that this altar around which we gather — is beneath this symbol of hate and death . . . that is empty. The arms of this empty cross which has lost its power are spread above us as we gather here . . . where Jesus promises to meet us with forgiveness and renewal of our spirits so that we may go from here — and go out there — with the courage to say “no” to the foxes of the world, and “yes” to the will of God.

We seek a lion. We get a chicken.

...A book of pages.

A bowl of water.

A cup of wine.

A plate of bread.

A gathering of broken, troubled, vulnerable people.

They may not look like much to the casual eye.

But with eyes of faith we see something more.

We see the power

and the gentleness

and the glory of God.

Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done.

AMEN