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“Even Whiners and Complainers Are Welcome!”
Introduction to Scripture Today’s reading from the Bible takes up the story of the Hebrew people following their escape from bondage in Egypt. This was their in-between time – after their rescue from slavery under Pharaoh, and before their hoped-for arrival at the Promised Land, a broad land flowing with milk and honey. The problem with in-between times, of course, is that while we certainly may know what has happened in the past, the future, even a promised future, is a whole lot fuzzier. (This should be a familiar feeling for anyone who has ever been in-between quarterbacks, in-between jobs, in-between relationships, in-between moving homes, in-between the diagnosis and the plan for treatment, and so on). Compounding the Hebrews’ anxiety over what may or may not lie in store for them up ahead is the reality that now they find themselves in the wilderness of Sin, the arid wasteland today known as the Sinai desert. Hard as life was back in Egypt, there at least they knew where their “three squares” were coming from each day. Now, in an unfamiliar land where food sources are scarce, they fear they are on their own….
As the following story once again reveals, the Time for Children part of our worship service was invented long ago by a Church Father who recognized the wisdom of making sure that local church pastors are periodically cut down to size. The pastor had called the children forward for their time together, and was trying to get them to recognize the humanity of Jesus’ disciples. She told them of how the disciples often misunderstood what Jesus was telling them, how even as Jesus was trying to teach them about what was important they argued with one another about who was the greatest, about how they were often scared, about how at the end they all abandoned Jesus just when he needed them most. “Now, what does that teach us?”, she asked, and this time she had no trouble getting a response. Responded one tyke, “That Jesus was a lousy judge of character?” No, that is not it all, of course. It shows that Jesus is so full of grace that he reached out and called just plain folk like us to follow him, folk who are frail, who are fallible, who say one thing and then do another, who aim high but often miss low. That’s how it was then, and that’s how it is today. We may not be the world’s greatest disciples, but Jesus calls us anyway. Our reading for today reminds us that God has a long history of loving and calling some very weak, misunderstanding, even whining and complaining folk. The Hebrew people are so fresh from their bondage in Egypt that they still have Egyptian sand in their sandals; they are so recent from that miraculous Red Sea crossing that the hems of their robes have yet to fully dry out, and here they are – the whole congregation – whining and complaining against Moses and his brother Aaron. It is like that summer vacation trip with the kids in the back and you are stuck in a traffic jam on the highway and the air conditioner isn’t working and it all starts up for the umpteenth time: “Are we there yet? I’m hungry. I forgot to go to the bathroom, can we stop?” – only a thousand times worse. They actually say that they prefer the bondage of Egypt to the freedom of new life in the wilderness; that they would much prefer the certainty of a slave diet back there to the responsibility of scrounging for nourishment out here; that they believe it would have been better for them to have been killed back on the other side of the Nile than risk perishing from hunger on the way to the Promised Land. I don’t know about you, but there is a big part of me that wonders how these folk get off whining and complaining to the God who brought them up out of slavery, who parted the Red Sea waters to safely speed them on their way, who led them through the wilderness by day and by night towards what they were told is a land of abundance and prosperity. Instead of whining and complaining, they should have been praising God each and every step of the way. It seems that if ever a people are ready for God to do a little bit of smiting, here they are. But that is not what happens. No smiting, no time-out, not even a rap on the knuckles. Instead there is the gift of manna and quail, a daily bread that will sustain them all the way through the wilderness. The lesson, in all its unexpectedness and strangeness is this – one might complain to God in the strongest possible terms, and not only survive, but hope for relief. God not only listens, but responds. It is a motif we see again and again in the Bible. We see it in the Book of Job, where Job tries to call God to account for his undeserved suffering, and instead of being struck down, is granted a voice out of the whirlwind. We see it in the psalms, where we have over fifty psalms of lament, where the people complain bitterly of their lot and demand to know why God has delayed vindicating them before their enemies. In the gospels we see it in Jesus’ parable of the unjust judge, where Jesus tells people to pray without ceasing to God, who is even more certain to respond to our pleas than is a corrupt judge badgered day and night by a wronged widow. But what we are being told here is something that goes beyond advocating that we whine and complain to God. It goes right to the heart of who God is and the relationship God wants of us. And what God wants of us is an intimate relationship, a relationship that might be likened in many respects to the most intimate of friendships. You know about friendship, and would likely agree with me that a true friend is someone with whom you can be totally honest. With colleagues, with strangers, with mild acquaintances, the mask stays on, when asked how things are we say “Just fine, thank you”, we monitor ourselves to make sure that we are putting our best foot forward and always have a smile on our face. But with a true friend, it is different. We don’t have to play games. We know for some unfathomable but blessed reason we can be ourselves, warts and all, and still we will be accepted. And we can tell the truth, we can be honest with one another. A friend tells me how he won over the young woman he had set his heart on. She was the life of the party, all happy, smiling, perky, full of fun. And then one day, over muffins and coffee when at last he was alone in her presence, he told her that he sensed that she was not always happy, that there were troubles she couldn’t shake, and that not only did this make him not think less of her, it gave him an appreciation for a depth of character that others didn’t see. He saw her in a way others never saw, and the honesty of that conversation, in the telling and the listening, provided an unshakeable foundation for them that has existed ever since. God’s commitment to the Hebrew people provided them with the foundation which enabled them to be real with God, and God’s commitment to us provides us with the foundation which enables us to be real with God as well. God invites us into an intimate friendship where we can speak truthfully to God. Where like a football player exuberantly thrusting his forefinger skyward in silent salute to God after scoring a touchdown, we can share our joys with God. Where like the Hebrew people, so amply blessed by a God who liberated them from slavery, yet still crying out against the fate they believe the wilderness has in store for them, we can clench our fists and scream, “God, why me?!”, we can rage at the evil that is done in the world, we can angrily demand to know how a good God can let so much suffering exist in this world of ours. Friends, today is Rally Day, the first day of a new church year, at least as we reckon it in accordance with the school calendar. It is a day when many of you are back in the pews after a summer away; when some are in these pews for the first time; when a lot of us find ourselves in one of those difficult in-between times of life, where our thanks for the blessings we have known are overshadowed by our worries about what may be next. And maybe you are wondering what you are supposed to be doing here. Maybe part of that has something to do with a friendship that you may have been neglecting lately, or even, perhaps, for a long time. It may have something to do with something you need to get off your chest. And, it may have something to do with something you need to hear, some truth you need to be told. Here, you’ve got a friend. Now its your turn – be a friend.
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