The Love that Moves God to Action
The Rev. Mark Sherwindt, Pastor
Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church
Pentecost 2: June 9-10, 2007
What a weekend! It has turned out to be crunch time for many at Zion, including me. Fifteen of us got off safely yesterday morning, heading south after their overnight in Nashville, and now on to New Orleans for a second dose of God's love alive in action. Three others of us will leave after the second service today, and, with any luck, we'll all be working with Operation Blessing at the Adullam Christian Fellowship in Saint Bernard Parish tomorrow. The group began to gather at 7:30 a.m. yesterday, and they were on the road around 9:00 a.m. But they were not the only early risers here at Zion yesterday. Four or five men were here working on the outside of the church building, a good complement to the four or five who were here during the week working on the beds in front of the church along Lindy Lane. In addition to these working groups, the Church Office has been working overtime all week long getting ready for my working on the road in New Orleans through most of the week.
There's so much still to do, with members in and out of the hospital. Helen Edwards was in and out of Mercy. Jennifer Brown was in Aultman, and left yesterday with twins! Mason and Jen have been joined in life by Aidan and Kendall, a boy and a girl, each well over six pounds at birth. What a relief, both to have two healthy babies, and that they're newborn! Mason and Jen are thrilled. Plus, we've got a whole lot on tap for today, with the Senior Choir's grand finale at 8:00 a.m., and the Children's Choir singing at 10:30 a.m. It has been a helter-skelter weekend, and getting worse! Who has time to think about Jesus, and the Gospel text, and the widow at Nain? And yet, that is precisely the point. Who has time to think about the needs of folks we don't know, when there is so much happening right at home among folks who we do know?
Jesus is in the village of Nain, not his home town of Nazareth, not even among his many friends in Bethany. His walking with the disciples is interrupted by a funeral procession making its way to the village gates. Nothing is said about whether Jesus knew the people involved, implying that he does not. He hadn't been beckoned days in advance of an illness getting progressively worse, as would happen with his friend Lazarus. He wasn't asked to come to the home so that he might tend to a dignitary's daughter who was about to die. The funeral procession interrupted his teaching time with his disciples, and he reciprocates by interrupting the funeral procession. As it turns out, the only son of a woman who had already lost her husband had died. It was tragic for him, a young man's life untimely taken, and doubly tragic for his mother, who now had no one to care for her in her so-called golden years. There was absolutely nothing golden in these golden years back in Jesus' day. That's part of the point of this story.
There was a lot to lament, and this funeral procession had more than its share of loud-sounding weeping and wailing. Jesus knew the drill, the customary respect invited, the traditional acknowledgements offered. But he is moved to offer more than what was expected, and I think that that's part of the point. Funeral processions were not the well-honed, professionally escorted, almost unnoticed, problem-free traffic pattern we experience today. Instead, they were intended to get noticed, stopping passersby in their tracks, so that all of us might take more than a moment to reflect on the ebb 'n flow of human life, showing respect for the dead and compassion for the living. What a moment to learn about the love of God! That is the point of this account, to tell us about the kind of love it is that moves God to action.
Luke has some great stories to share about God's love, with the first among favorites being the parable of the prodigal son, and the story of the Good Samaritan following closely in second. In each of these instances, in fact, in all three incidents, the widow at Nain, the prodigal son, and the Good Samaritan, Luke is careful to use the same word in talking about the powerful force of compassion. It is the word s-p-l-a-g-n-a. This is not the love of young romantics pondering the possibilities while peeling the petals from flowers with the words: She loves me. She loves me not. There is no sense of choice involved with the love expressed through the Greek word s-p-l-a-g-n-a. This love has nothing to do with the niceties of passing fancies or the attraction of the latest fad. Oh, I love that. I've gotta have it. S-p-l-a-g-n-a is a word that splatters off the tongue, bringing with it all the guttural juices a hard, full-throated "g" can muster. The strength of this love wells up from deep within, viscerally from the gut, without much opportunity for our mind to refine it, or for our heart to soften its effect. It moves upon us uncontrollably, except that its effect is the rawest form of the best that is within us: s-p-l-a-g-n-a.
This is one of those times when you learn a lot by investigating the background and usage of a Greek word. Luke's use of the word is so revealing. When the father in the parable of the prodigal saw that his son was near, still far off but within eyesight, he did not ask, "Is now a good time?" "Have I finished everything on my list?" "Do I have time to say more than a quick 'Hello'?" No, he rushes off to the far end of the field, literally falls upon his son's neck, covering him with hugs, as he sends the servants for some shoes, and directs others to kill the fatted calf, completing the welcome home with a celebration of joy. When we hear of the Good Samaritan being made a model of God's love, it was not his well-placed priorities or effective time management that was the main issue. The priest and the Levite had the right priorities, and both had managed their time effectively, leaving a little room for greeting others when they arrived in time for worship. No, sensing the urgency to respond to the emergency of another's need, with thought given only to responding effectively and thoroughly: this is the model of love that moves the Samaritan to action. This is the love that Luke describes with the word s-p-l-a-g-n-a.
Several weeks ago I spoke about different words in Greek for love: storge, eros, philo, and agape. Storge refers to the delightful fancies of puppy love; eros, to the passion of romantic love; philos, to the strengths of friendship; agape, to the sacrificial character of God's love. I didn't mention splagna because I am always surprised by the messy sense of a word that splatters off the tongue, with all the guts that a hard, guttural "g" can muster. I am always surprised by the overpowering strength of this love, welling up from within the depths of God's inmost innards, and moving God to do all that he can, all that he must, to reach us at our times of undeniable need, ready and willing to embrace us with a love that cannot be contained. This is Luke's signature expression when talking about God's love, whether it's the love that compels the father's response, or the love that guides the Samaritan's concern, or the love that moves Jesus to step out and touch the mother by raising her son. The miracle of resuscitation grabs the attention of bystanders; but it is the power of God's love that silenced the mother with gratitude and joy.
What is so good about this kind of love is that it stays as strong as the force with which it flows forth from the bowels of God's being. When our missioners traveled to New Orleans last June to respond with their presence to the efforts at reconstruction moving forward in the Gulf States, I have got to confess that when we saw what we saw we were overwhelmed with emotion. The sheer magnitude of destruction evoked unanticipated compassion welling up from within. The stories that so many individuals told and retold reinforced these initial impressions with lasting effect. Most of us now know that it's hard for a country to sustain the level of feeling that sprang to life with the many pictures that were telecast by media outlets covering the aftermath of Katrina. Let's face it, interest wanes. Attention falters. That pattern was borne out with Katrina. After the initial out-pouring of national and international good will, it was mostly people of faith who made up the first line of God's response; and it has been people of faith who have sustained the interest and the effort. God's love keeps this compelling need to help alive. Whether it was the loud and insistent voice of Mark Votaw saying We've got to go back!, or the I'm with you. Count me in! camaraderie of Steve and Linda Ross, and Matt, and Nicki, and Michelle, Kirsten, Brittainy, along with Chase, Jon, Corey, Laura Kay and Sarah - Hey, that's a baker's dozen! Now we're cooking! - joined by Karen Kirk, Shirley Horton, who brought her granddaughter Kaitlyn, who is the same age as Ronda, add a Pastor, and you've got eighteen of us, people of faith, loving the Lord by serving our neighbors! God's love is powerfully alive among folks who have felt His love and heard His call.
The power of God's love is nowhere more evident than in the life of the Adullam Christian Fellowship, and their Pastor Randy Millet. Before Katrina, his congregation had experienced some healthy growth. He and his wife had bought a new and bigger house. Their staff was expanding. Rick Warren, watch out! Then Katrina came. Randy's words were unforgettable. "I went to bed the Pastor of a healthy congregation, and I woke up a missionary in a third world disaster zone." He lost everything; but he chose to stay. He, too, was moved with compassion by the human need he saw. Just as Jesus was moved to step forward and bring life from death, that's what Pastor Randy has helped to do. Where once there was nothing but despair, now there is hope and new life. That's God's love in action. That's the love that moved Jesus to action in Nain. That's the love that is moving Zion and thousands of others to action, transforming the signs of death into the miracle of resurrection life, in the name and by the power of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen