Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, "The Hard Way," 2 Kings 5:1-14 (Proper 9C, Ordinary 14C)

Sermon 7/3/22

2 Kings 5:1-14

The Hard Way

I’ve been thinking about the way we talk about whether the situations we experience in life are hard or easy and what kind of value we place on those words. For example, sometimes we talk with disdain about someone trying to “take the easy way out.” Or we might say, “Oh, that person had it so easy.” Right now, for example, I’m preparing for some exams in my schoolwork, and I feel like it has been a lot of work. But there are some students (including my roommate)  in a different area of my program,  - the people who are in Biblical Studies - and their exam structure is much different than my area’s exams. And I will admit I’ve said something along the lines of “you have it so easy” to my roommate. On the other hand, we might say, “hey, take it easy!” if someone is getting too angry about something, or giving someone else a hard time. We might say, “go easy on them!” if we fear someone will give another person too severe of a reprimand or punishment. We talk about the value of hard work and hard workers. But we also sometimes find ourselves wondering at someone: why do you have to do everything the hard way? When we see someone making a situation complicated that could have been very easy, we’re baffled. I think of my mom: she has a terrible sense of direction. But she can memorize how to get from one place to another. But she can’t connect the different sets of directions she’s learned. So sometimes she’ll drive from point A to point B - a path she knows - and then from point B to point C - another path she knows - when it actually would have been much faster and simpler and easier - to go directly from point A to point C. I’d say she’s doing things the hard way. Of course, for my mom, navigating a new path is the hard way, and going on a path she’s memorized, even if it is longer, is the easy way. Either way, it seems we don’t have a clear or consistent sense of whether we think people should be trying to do things the easy way or the hard way. Are they foolish for making things harder than they need to be? Or lazy for trying to take the easy way out? We don’t seem to know. 

I’ve been thinking about the hard way and the easy way as I studied our scripture text for today. In the book of 2 Kings, a history book of the Bible, we read about a man named Naaman. Naaman was a commander in the army of the king of Aram. Aram was an enemy of Israel, and the Arameans have caused a lot of “violence, loss of life, homes, and livelihood, and untold suffering to the people of Israel.” (1) Naaman, as their army’s commander, would have been disliked and feared, to put it mildly. 

Naaman, we read, has leprosy. Leprosy is a word used in the Bible to describe several kinds of diseases, especially skin diseases. You might remember that in the gospels, Jesus heals lepers, who were sometimes ostracized from society, considered unclean because of their disease. But that kind of isolation, separation from community usually only happened in advanced stages. (2) Although Naaman has leprosy, it hasn’t yet kept him isolated from society. Still, he suffers from his disease. 

And then, an unexpected figure intervenes: a child, a young Israelite girl, who has been captured and enslaved by the Arameans, is a servant to Naaman’s wife. As with so many women in the Bible, we don’t learn this young girl’s name. But, despite her circumstances, she speaks up with boldness, telling Naaman’s wife that there is a prophet in Samaria who could cure Naaman’s leprosy. In other words: in the lands where she came from, in the lands where Naaman has been leading violent acts of war, there is someone who could cure Naaman. A cure is at hand - but what a hard way to have to get it - from your enemy! 

Still, Naaman seizes the opportunity. He tells the king what the young girl has said, and the king sends Naaman and a letter to the king of Israel, along with a hefty “payment” - silver and gold and supplies. In the letter, the king of Aram asks the king of Israel to cure Naaman’s leprosy. 

Receiving the letter, the king of Israel seems to feel helpless. He, the king, cannot heal Naaman, and he feels like the king of Aram is trying to start a fight. The king of Israel seems to dread that this is all some ruse for further acts of military aggression against Israel. But Elisha, a prophet of God, hears about the letter. Elisha is the successor to the prophet Elijah, and he, like Elijah, is known for his relationship with God, for his ability to demonstrate God’s power and authority. Elisha tells the king to have Naaman sent to him. So, Naaman and his entourage and all the gifts from the king of Aram locate to Elisha’s front entrance - but they don’t go in. And Elisha doesn’t come out Perhaps Elisha, though ready to act in his role as prophet - doesn’t want to invite someone who has harmed the Israelites so deeply into his home. (2) And perhaps Naaman is not eager to show himself in a position of weakness, and doesn’t want to have to be a “guest” inside Elisha’s house, relying on Elisha’s hospitality. So even though Naaman is at Elisha’s door, Elisha sends word to Naaman through a messenger. Elisha says, “wash in the Jordan river seven times, and you’ll be clean, you’ll be healed.” 

Rather than rejoicing at this news of a cure, Naaman is angry. He’s angry that Elisha didn’t come out to speak to him, angry that there was no spectacle where Elisah called on his God, and waved his arms around to make a cure. He’s angry that Elisha seems to imply the waters in Israel are curing, but not the waters of Aram. He’s enraged. He’s ready to leave, uncured, unwilling to try. But his servants boldly speak up. They say to him, “if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, “Wash, and be clean”?” In other words, “why are you making things so hard?” Naaman finally concedes. He goes to the Jordan, washes seven times, and, just as Elisha says, he is healed completely. 

That’s where our text ends, although there is more to the story that you can read in the rest of chapter 5. Naaman commits to worshiping Elisha’s God, and wants Elisha to accept all the gifts he has brought. Elisha refuses any payment but sends Naaman in peace. However, a servant of Elisha’s named Gehazi is filled with greed, upset that Elisha let Naaman off so easy without taking any of the gifts Naaman brought. He tricks Naaman into giving him some of the items after all, and when Elisha finds out about the deception, he curses Gehazi with the leprosy that once clung to Naaman.  

When I read this story, I’m struck by how Naaman was sure that the means for his healing had to be complicated and difficult. And I think he was sure of that for two reasons: first, I think Naaman believes that someone of his status - a prestigious military leader - someone of his status would “deserve” a complicated healing ritual, complex and dazzling and befitting of his importance. Surely, he should have to do something special that “ordinary people” wouldn’t have to do. And second, and perhaps more importantly, I think Naaman has this idea that God makes us “jump through hoops,” so to speak, in order to receive healing, wholeness, salvation. Surely, God can’t just offer something as a gift without strings attached! So Naaman can’t believe that he can be healed of something that has plagued him for so long because this God that Elisha serves is more generous that Naaman can understand. 

What about you? What about us? I wonder if we’re so different from Naaman. Sure, hopefully we don’t believe that we’re so special that we require God to work for us only through dazzling displays of power. But I think we, too, sometimes can’t believe that God is ready to be so easily generous with us, especially when we feel undeserving of God’s generosity. I think when we’re tempted to make bargains and engage in mental negotiations with God, if we could just get God to do what we want, we’re choosing the “hard way.” We’re imagining that we have to manipulate and persuade God into doing what we want. Instead, God seeks to do not necessarily what we want, but that which will bring us life, abundance, wholeness, peace, and joy, and God wants to do it out of love, goodness, and generosity. The “easy way” with God is to trust God and put our lives and hearts into God’s hands. So often, though, we make things harder, expecting God to behave in the same sort of ways we act with each other, always keeping track of status and position and power. 

The other aspect of this text that strikes me is how we see power and status at work throughout the story. We have two kings, a general, a prophet, and several servants, including a young captive girl far from home. The king of Israel, leader of a nation, expresses his sense of powerlessness. What could he do to help? He can only lament that he is not God - he doesn’t have God’s powers, and without that, he sees nothing he can do to help. He only sees potential danger, despite an enemy seeking aid from him. On the other hand, anonymous servants, unnamed, who should be the people with the least power, are the ones who make almost everything in this story happen. Naaman only accepted the “easy way” of healing offered to him by Elisha because of his servants boldly speaking up. And of course, he only knew about it because of an enslaved child. I’m not sure what motivation they all had for helping Naaman. Naaman wouldn’t have known what he was missing. But even though they seem to be “powerless,” despite their low status, these servants, this young girl - they are the reason that Naaman is healed. Sure, Elisha offers the healing treatment. And yes, God is the healer. But in this story, the servants are the ones with the wisdom, and the kings and typically powerful leaders are the ones who seem afraid and helpless. 

When we are feeling powerless, unable to change the world around us that seems so very broken, what if we remembered this young girl, who despite her status, claims her agency and takes action? And what if, when we’re sure that we have the power and status and know what’s best, we learned to listen to wisdom from those who usually get overlooked? After all, that’s the way of Jesus, who teaches that the first is last and last is first, the exalted are humbled and humbled are exalted. In our broken world, whose voices have we been drowning out? Whose voices, whose wisdom, should we be listening to? In what unexpected places can we find the voice of God, speaking through others? Who has knowledge and wisdom that could help us draw closer to God? What are we missing out on by only listening to voices at the center, that represent power or status or position? 

The hard way, the easy way. Which way does God want us to take? I don’t think the answer to that is, well, easy. But hopefully our journey with Naaman, Elisha, and these bold, unnamed, but not forgotten servants, helps us to claim both our own wisdom and power, when we need to speak up against injustice, when we need to witness to the ways we see God at work in the world. Hopefully their voices help us to listen for the wisdom and knowledge we’ve overlooked when we put ourselves or figures of power and position at the center and neglect those on the margins. And hopefully, our journey with Naaman and his quest for healing reminds us that we are children of a God who loves us and seeks our thriving, giving to us with generosity and joy. Whether our way is easy or our path is hard, God is with us. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

1. Haslam, Chris, “Comments,” http://montreal.anglican.org/comments/cpr14m.shtml

2. Hawk, L. Daniel, “Commentary on 2 Kings 5:1-14,” The Working Preacher,  https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-14-3/commentary-on-2-kings-51-14-8

Sermon, "The Story, Part I: Squabbling," Judges 2:1-5, 17:6, 1 Samuel 8:19-22, 2 Kings 24:18-20a

Sermon 10/6/19

Judges 2:1-5, 17:6, 1 Samuel 8:19-22, 2 Kings 24:18-20a

The Story, Part I:Squabbling

For the last couple of weeks, we’ve been talking about ways that God establishes to help the Israelites remember their relationship: God will be their God, they’ll be God’s people. And they’ll put God first, and love God with heart, mind, soul, strength, and they’ll express this as they live out the law, caring for each other, loving one another. And now we see why. The people still haven’t quite come into full possession of the Promised Land. There have been wars and setbacks, and Moses has died and Joshua is now leading them. And already, people are losing their connection to God and the law. Joshua has declared that he and his house will follow God. But this isn’t the case with all the Israelites. Some of them have started paying attention to the practices and beliefs of the people around them. And in our first reading, from Judges, God calls them out on their behavior. They’ve broken covenant. What follows is a long period of ups and downs for Israel. The people start to focus on needing a king. They are sure that will fix their problems somehow. But it’s just one more demand in a long string of demands the people put to God, insisting that if God just does this one more thing, then they’ll be good for God. “If you just do _________ for us God, then we will truly be your people.” They think they want a king. They think that will fix everything. But of course, if they can’t follow a divine ruler, why would they follow an earthly fallible king? Still, God, speaking through Samuel in our second text, grants them what they desire. It comes as no surprise to us as readers, though, that it doesn’t work out. By the close of their season of king after kings, the people are further than ever from following God, they’re broken and divided, and they’re sent into exile. 

So how do things unravel? All throughout the books of 1 and 2 Kings, (books of history in the Bible, which recount the long line of the leaders of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah) in addition to details about standout events in the reign of that particular king, the author also “scores” each reign in this way: The author either says that the king “did what was right in the sight of the Lord,” an unfortunately rare comment, or that the king “did what was evil in the sight of the Lord” - that’s how the reign of too many leaders is summed up. That’s clear, and unambiguous. They did good, or they did evil. And given those two choices, we know what we’re supposed to strive for at least, right? We want to do what is good in God’s eyes. 

But what strikes me, in our readings today, is that while this language - good or evil in God’s sight - is directed at the rulers, the kings, in Judges, the author says this: “And the people did what was right in their own eyes.” Is that a good thing or a bad thing? The text doesn’t say specifically. We can, and will, look for some context clues, but we can also mull over these words ourselves.

“And the people did what was right in their own eyes.” What would be wrong with this? Is there anything wrong with this kind of thinking? Why shouldn’t we all just do what’s right in our own eyes? I’m sure sometimes I tell people something very similar to this: you have to do what you think is right. And there are ways in which I think that’s true. It doesn’t seem like there’s a clear right and wrong choice in every situation we encounter, does it? Sometimes figuring out the best thing to do seems like a gray and murky endeavor. So figuring out what’s right is something we have to take responsibility for, and we do that as we exercise our gift of free will, as we work out our sense of ethics - the guiding moral principles that govern our lives. And we know, of course, that we do not always come to the same conclusions about what is right as those around us. Sometimes, that’s ok. Maybe two different families come to different conclusions about whether one parent wants to stay home to care for children in the household. And after mulling over options, one family decides that they think it is most important that the children see their parents as workers, balancing careers and home life. And another family decides that it is most important that at least one parent is home, providing direct care for the children at all times. Is one conclusion more right than the others? I don’t think so, not if all involved are doing their best, looking at the best results for their households, and then trying to act in accordance with their ethics, their guiding moral principles. Is that what “all the people did what was right in their own eyes” means? 

However, sometimes we slip from knowing there are times when people come to different conclusions about what is right and wrong in ways that make sense, to feeling like there is no real right or wrong at all. This is what’s called “moral relativism.” Moral relativism means that “in … disagreements, nobody is objectively right or wrong; and … because nobody is right or wrong, we ought to tolerate the behavior of others even when we disagree about the morality of it.” Everyone is just figuring things out for themselves, sometimes people come to different conclusions about what’s right and wrong, and we should just accept that - and accept people’s differing conclusions. Many people feel strongly that this is true. “All the people did what was right in their own eyes.” A good thing. 

Here’s the thing though. If someone believes that racism is ok, should we just accept that they have a “different point of view?” Is right and wrong murky, or clear? If someone believes it is ok to beat and abuse their children as part of discipline for children’s misbehavior, is that just a different parenting ethic? If someone has decided that, after careful consideration, murdering someone isn’t wrong as long as they “deserve” to die, do we have to accept their conclusions? “All the people did what was right in their own eyes.” Ah. Perhaps there’s something amiss, really amiss, when we read that God’s people are all doing whatever they think is best. And then we add in the context, what we know from what we talked about last week, and what we know from the rest of today’s texts. We know that the people have spent years receiving the law - how many commandments? (613!) So apparently God thinks that in at least these instances, the people don’t need to decide what’s right and wrong. God has given them guidance. And we know that in the first part of our text from Judges, God declares that while God has kept the covenant they’ve made, the people have not. They’ve broken the law. In particular, they’ve not remembered to keep God first. They’ve all just done whatever seemed best to them. And the result was that their identity as God’s set apart people has started to crumble. 

Eventually, the people are sure they can fix their relationship with God if they can just get an earthly king to rule them, like all the other nations have. That’s what they need: a person they can see, who can talk directly to them, who can enforce rules and regulations with power and authority. Then, they will stay on the straight and narrow. God tries to dissuade them. God is their ruler. They shouldn’t need any other kind of king. But after a period of Judges, set up to judge but not rule, the Israelites still want a king. Before our passage from 1 Samuel, Samuel, the prophet, tries to tell them all the ways they are going to regret asking for a king. But they don’t listen. And God, hearing their complaining, concedes. They can have a king. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t fix their problems, and by the end of 2 Kings, God’s people have been conquered, and they are exiled - kings included - to Babylon. 

In Judges, in 1 & 2 Samuel, in 1 & 2 Kings, we see a people wrestling with questions about authority. Who’s in charge? Are they in charge of themselves? Is a judge in charge, or a king? Or is God in charge? Who’s going to be the ruler of their lives? Who will be the authority for the Israelites? We still have to answer these questions today. And I think, so often, we try to answer just like the Israelites did. Oh, I think they wanted God to have some power and authority in their lives. Just not all. They wanted God to be there to protect them, to encourage them, to tell other people what to do, to punish other people when they were wrong. But they also wanted God to leave them alone when they reached a different conclusion than God about what was right. Aren’t we the same? What kind of authority and power do you want God to have in your life? How does God rule in your life? Do you want God to be a mentor, a friend, but not someone who tells you what to do? Would you rather that God didn’t rule you?  

I think we’re afraid that if we give our whole lives to God, if we let God be in charge, then we end up powerless. We forget that God is not a dictator. We get to decide whether or not we want God to rule us. We get to decide whether we will let God be the authority that guides of our lives each day. That doesn’t mean that God doesn’t have power if we choose not to be God’s people. It just means that God, who loves us, wants our willing hearts, not zombie followers who can’t make choices. But, if we choose God, if we give God the authority to be the only true Ruler of our lives, we have to come to terms with this: God isn’t interested in giving us mild suggestions that we are never going to listen to. We might have to figure out what God is leading us to do, but God doesn’t have a murky sense of what’s best. We might wrestle with how to live out God’s commandment of love, but that doesn’t make it any less of a commandment. Do we want God to rule us? Or would we rather do what’s right in our own eyes? We can’t have it both ways. 

This week a group of us from First UMC, North Gouverneur, and other area churches traveled to Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, to see, among other things, the production of Jesus at the Sight and Sound Theatre, known for putting on elaborate, visually stunning productions about stories from the Bible. Jesus, naturally, told the story of Jesus’s ministry, from his calling of the disciples, through Peter’s sermon on the Day of Pentecost. What stuck most for me, besides the really cool special effects, was Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane the night he was betrayed and arrested. In the production we saw, as Jesus prayed, he wrestled with voices in his mind trying to lure him away from doing what Jesus knew he must. We read in the scriptures, Jesus asking God, his parent: “If it is possible, can you take this cup - this path - this suffering - away from me?” But of course, we know that Jesus concludes, “Not my will, but your will be done [God].” And that’s what Jesus repeated over and over in this production - “Not my will but yours be done, not my will but yours be done!” They aren’t words that come easily to Jesus. They are wrested from the depths of his soul. If we think Jesus goes lightly to his death just because he trusts God, we’re wrong. He would rather any other path was the path to which God was calling him in that moment. But Jesus has made a commitment: Not my will, but your will be done. He knows he can’t have it both ways. If God is God for Jesus, if God is Ruler of the Universe, then even Jesus must choose God’s will over his own. God won’t force him. But that doesn’t mean both choices, both paths are right. Jesus chooses not his own will, but God’s.  

What will we choose? Choosing God’s path is hard, especially when it bumps up, even collides head on with what we think is best. But God doesn’t really rule our hearts and lives if we only choose God’s way when it neatly coincides with our own. The hardest part of discipleship is choosing God’s path when we’re sure we know better. Yet - not our will God, but yours be done. 

Today is World Communion Sunday. It’s a day when we give special attention to the gift of communion, and especially when we give thanks and celebrate our oneness in the Body of Christ, as we know that Christians everywhere are joining at the table with us today. It is also a reminder for us: we are not alone. And so what we do doesn’t just affect us. We’re one body. I can’t just decide what’s right for me, not without it affecting my siblings in Christ. So instead of me trying to decide what’s best for everyone - as tempting as that seems! - I choose to be ruled by God. Sometimes, I will be as awful at it as the Israelites were. But sometimes, maybe more and more with a life of following in the ways of Jesus, I will claim with conviction: “Not my will, but yours be done God.” 

And all the people did what was right - in God’s eyes. May it be so. Amen. 

Sermon for Fourth Sunday of Easter, "Resurrection Stories: Bless You," 2 Kings 4:20-35

Sermon 5/11/14

2 Kings 4:20-35

Resurrection Stories: Bless You

            If you’re thinking that today’s scripture lesson sounds a lot like last week’s scripture lesson, that’s good. It means you’ve been paying attention. Last week, we read about Elijah, who stayed in the home of a woman who had a son, who died, who Elijah then raised from the dead. Today, we’re reading about Elisha, who is staying at the home of a woman who has a son, and he dies, and Elisha raises him from the dead. A little confusing, right?

            Last week, remember, we talked about how Elijah’s prophetic words and actions weren’t very popular, since he criticized King Ahab and Queen Jezebel for their idolatrous practices. Eventually, Elijah is overwhelmed, exhausted from his prophetic work that keeps putting his life in jeopardy, and he turns to God for help. God tells Elijah that he’ll have someone to hand his work over to – a man named Elisha. For several years, Elisha journeys with Elijah as sort of a prophet-apprentice, and when Elijah prepares to leave earth, to be caught up into heaven, Elisha boldly asks for a double-portion of Elijah’s spirit. And it is given to him, just as he asks. What follows in the rest of the accounts of Kings is indeed, Elisha acting with a seeming double portion of Elijah’s spirit, and many stories of Elisha mirror and expand on things we’d read about Elijah.

            Today, again, our text opens in the middle of the story, so let’s back up a bit. Elisha is traveling one day through a town called Shunem, when he encounters a wealthy woman who urges him to stop and have a meal at her home. He does, and soon, whenever he passes that way, he stops for a meal. The woman suggests to her husband that they build an addition to their home, a small room, so that Elisha can stay with them when he comes to town. She does this, we read, because she believes that Elisha is a “holy man of God.”

            One time, while staying at the woman’s home, Elisha calls to his servant, Gehazi, and asks him to bring the woman to him. Elisha then asks her what she wants, as thanks for all that she has done for Elisha. He offers even to address the king on her behalf if she wants something. The woman, in response, suggests she has all she needs. So Gehazi suggests to Elisha that the woman has no son, and is unlikely because of her husband’s age to have one. Elisha then announces to her that she will bear a son, and she responds, “Oh no, man of God, don’t lie to your servant!” But, in time, she indeed gives birth to a son.

            Some years pass by – we’re not sure how many. But we read that “when the child was older” he complains to his father, “Oh my head, oh my head.” The child is brought to his mother to sit on her lap, and he dies in her arms. The woman doesn’t hesitate. She carries him and lays him down on Elisha’s bed – the “man of God’s” bed, the text says. She refers to Elisha this way throughout this scene. And she gets ready and goes to find him, “the man of God.” Elisha sees her approaching and sends Gehazi to ask if everything is ok. She says, “It is all right,” and keeps moving, until she gets close enough to the man of God to catch hold of his feet. Gehazi tries to push her away, but Elisha tells Gehazi to let her be. The woman says, “Did I ask God for a son? Didn’t I tell you not to lie to me?” So, Elisha sends Gehazi to go quickly with Elisha’s staff to try to raise the child. It doesn’t work. But meanwhile, more slowly, Elisha arrives with the woman, who has refused to go without him. Elisha goes to the child, prays to God, and performs something that might read to us like a medical intervention – almost like a version of CPR or mouth-to-mouth-resuscitation – although now the child has been long dead. But, sneezing seven times, the child opens his eyes. Elisha calls the woman in, and tells her “take your son.”

            As similar as this story is to the story we heard about Elijah last week, the differences are important. This story isn’t about idolatry, like last week’s story. The woman and her husband live in Shunem, a town in Issachar, a tribe of Israel. And the woman is married and wealthy, not a widow trying to scrape together enough food to live. So the focus of this miraculous raising of a child from the dead is different. We know what it isn’t about, but do we know what it is about?

            Like so many women in the Bible, this woman is never named for us, usually just described as “the Shunnamite woman.” But though we never get her name – or the rest of her family’s, for that matter, she’s the center of the story. She’s the one who recognizes Elisha as a man of God. She’s the one who suggests building a room for Elisha. She’s the one who scoffs at his announcement of her pregnancy. She’s the one who holds her dying child, who lays him in Elisha’s room, who commands the servants to ready her for travel, who pursues Elisha, who grasps his feet, who won’t leave without him, who holds him accountable, who demands action. Sure, Elisha performs the resurrection, but you almost sense he’d be in big trouble with her, the mother, if he didn’t. She’s confident. She’s bold. She doesn’t hesitate to go after what she wants. She calls out Elisha as a man of God, and knowing that, she knows what he can do and doesn’t rest until he does it.

            On this Mother’s Day, I can’t help but think of this mother and her determination and think about my own mother, and other mothers you know who might have acted like this woman. My mother is one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. This week I presented my Doctor of Ministry paper in Ohio, and over the course of the quick two day trip I took there and back this week, I think she told me she was proud of me literally at least twenty times. I tease her about that, but if your worst quality is boosting someone up too much, really, you aren’t doing too bad. She’s the kind of mom that everyone thinks of as their mom. Really, even strangers seem to see her, and immediately want to share with her their life stories. She’s just inviting like that. But she can be fierce – don’t be fooled. Woe to you if you hurt one of her children! A few years back, I was dealing with a rather mean and cranky landlord, and when I was moving out, he gave me a hard time about everything. My mother came with me for my final inspection, and she only spoke a few words, but if looks could kill…let’s just say, my landlord became much more agreeable in my mother’s presence. And she can be fiercely protective when she has a child in danger. When I was in eighth grade, I managed to pin my leg beneath my family’s mini-van in a grocery store parking lot. How I managed that is a long story where I come out looking rather foolish, so we’ll call that part not important. But when my mom discovered me, pinned under then minivan, she, not seeing any available help, just pushed the minivan off me. Talk about adrenaline! When her child was in danger, she was totally confident and capable of doing what was needed – getting me to safety.

Mother’s Day isn’t a liturgical holiday – it isn’t a part of our church calendar. And I am so deeply aware of all of the mixed emotions all of us bring on a day like this. Some of us have mothers like mine – loving and kind. Some of us have lost our mothers. Some mothers have lost children. Some mothers were not kind or loving. Some of us were surrounded by other strong women who love us like mothers. Some of us were adopted or adopted to become mothers. Some of us have wanted to be mothers, but haven’t been able to. Some of us love mothers, without ever wanting the role for ourselves. But thankfully what we see to admire in this fierce, bold, confident mother in our text today is something we can all emulate in our lives. Because as much as she was motivated to act because of her love for her child, because of her desire to protect him by going to whatever lengths necessary, even demanding that he be brought back to life, I think her primary reason for her actions is because of her faith in God and her confidence in who Elisha is and who he represents. Seven times in this story alone the woman refers to him directly or indirectly as the “man of God.” She quite literally makes room for God in her house, building an addition just so Elisha will have a better place to stay when he’s in town. She is totally confident in Elisha’s ability to restore her child’s life. Her actions suggest entire confidence, complete belief that Elisha, with God’s power, will make her child live. Her faith, her confidence, her actions, her trust in God – that all transcends her role as mother, a response she makes as a faithful disciples, one who believes entirely in God and God’s resurrecting power.

How confident are you in God’s resurrecting power? How bold does your faith in God make you? How much are you sure that God is truly powerful, truly loving, truly acting in the world, truly holding the power of life, hope, resurrection? How much room have you made for God in your life, trusting in God’s power to impact your life deeply? On this day, as you reflect on some special women in your life who have been your advocates and supporters, your encouragers, going to battle for you, confident in you, proud of you, loving you, and on this day as you, men and women, everyone, as you seek to be these loving figures in the lives of others: on this day, know that you can put your faith in God, our loving parent, bold in claiming us as children, fierce in seeking what is good for us, moving heaven and earth to draw new life from us, even when we feel empty and hopeless and lifeless. Confident in God, trusting in God’s promises, don’t just sit timidly back, waiting for resurrection to find you. Seek out resurrection. Grasp onto life. Trust that new life is for you, offered by God. Be bold, and receive the gift of God. Amen.