First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Scripture: Genesis 3:1-13
Every so often, J.P. McCarthy provides a valuable service for his WJR listeners by inviting them to call him up and tell his vast radio audience what is bugging them. "No matter what it is.... no matter how insignificant it seems.... no matter how big or small it may be.... if it rankles in your craw, call it in and spill it out."
It's kind of interesting to find out what bugs people. It never seems to be anything of substance. But, then, it seldom is. As any hiker knows, it's not the size of the pebble in your shoe that matters, so much as how long you've been walking on it.
Little things bug us. Know what bugs me? One thing that bugs me is that when people are about to say a word to me which is either painful or critical, they preface it with a disclaimer which is somehow supposed to soften the blow of what they are about to say. The disclaimers come in all shapes and sizes. But one that especially gets to me is when people introduce their critical opinion with the phrase: "Now I'm only saying this for your own good." Whenever I hear those words, a series of radar-like signals go off in my brain. I find myself becoming defensive. I also find myself torn between wanting to know what is coming next, and not wanting to know.
Part of my problem is a trust problem. I don't always trust the motives of the speaker. I know that for every person who tells me something of a critical nature "for my own good," there is another person who tells me something of a critical nature for their own good. I suppose another part of my problem involves some ancient memories. People who tell me things "for my own good," generally assume that they know "my own good" better than I do. Sometimes they do. But the reminder always comes off sounding parental. And parental messages always trigger ancient memories. We didn't like it when our parents knew what was good for us then, and, we are not all that sure we like it any better now. It is not that we are unwilling to face criticism. Most of us have made our peace with that. But most of us would prefer our doses of corrective medicine delivered directly, unprefaced by words of disclaimer that come masquerading as kindness.
Close cousins to the people who tell us critical things "for our own good," are the people who begin harsh judgments with the words: "Now I don't want you to take this personally....". I wish it were that easy. I wish I had more trust in the motives of people who speak this way. All too often, it seems as if the ones who tell me that I shouldn't take something personally, are the very same people who phrase things in such a way, that there is no way left to take things, but personally. I am acquainted with one individual who uses this phrase as a legal license to hurt. Once he gets it out of the way, he feels he can say virtually anything. And often does.
Some things, however, do need to be "taken personally." In this world (where loneliness and overpopulation seem to be paradoxical social ills) there is a genuine hunger for relationships which are personal. Consider the growing number of self advertisements in the "Personals" columns of daily newspapers and monthly magazines. I am occasionally drawn to these cryptic self- descriptions, wondering who in the world writes them. All of these people sound so interesting and attractive. I find myself wondering why it is that people with so much to offer, have to resort to newspaper ads and post office boxes to find someone to offer it to. And notice, if you will, that the common denominator for all such ads is the seven-letter word "seeking." Everybody seems to be seeking something.... or someone.... which somehow keeps eluding them. The thirst is great. But the normal wells keep coming up dry. The "personals" ads are modern-day scriptures of loneliness. But I don't mock them, because there have been times in my life when I could have written them. And there have been times in your lives when you could have written them too.
Alas, not all hungers are easily satisfied. And not all hungers can be humanly satisfied. To be sure, we hunger for friends. We hunger for lovers. But we also hunger for God. And our hunger does not stop at the door of the church. Even we who claim to know much about God, seek more intimate knowledge of God. While I doubt that the search consumes any of us all of the time, I am convinced that it consumes virtually all of us, some of the time. There are no exemptions, even among professional Christians. Carlyle Marney was both a great Baptist and a great theologian. It was Dr. Marney who became something of the conscience of the South, during those years in which his powerful voice boomed from the pulpit of Myers Park Baptist Church in Charlotte, North Carolina. He was one of my heroes in the 60's and 70's. Many of us knew him as a man whose preaching reeked with honesty, and whose honesty increased with age. Listen to these words, written in the latter stages of his career:
And now, a long way out of Seminary, a veteran of the classic descriptions of God, doctrines of God, dogmas about God, and a reader of endless books on revelation, inspiration and incarnation....I confess to you that I long for God, have waited for God, have run after God, and have often said more about God than I knew. Moreover, I have worshipped God, analyzed God, prayed for God, to God, with God, and (along with a great majority of my colleagues) have beat endlessly upon the gates of heaven for some word of God to share with others.
I find that I am now becoming old enough and honest enough to be able to say "Amen" to that, without any sense of vocational embarrassment or shame.
But, to all of that, I would add that men and women are not the only seekers. I would put God in the seeking class. I think that there is something in God that clearly hungers after us. I think that there is some essential emptiness in God that only we can fill. And I think that out of the kind of loneliness that only unreturned love can know, God first created men and women so that God would have someone to talk to. And it is out of that same loneliness (I think), that God comes looking for us.... not so much to check up on us.... not so much to catch us in the act of being "ungodly".... but out of a genuine curiosity as to where it is that we have gone off to, and what it is that we have been up to.
Which, of course, brings us to Adam, which is where (moments ago) Charlie laid the story down. So let's pick it up there. God has gone looking for Adam. Adam, however, is hiding. I suppose that this explains why we human beings do not connect with God more often than we do, because it is hard to look for God and hide from God at the same time. Not only is it hard, it is schizophrenic. But it is certainly not impossible. If you think it is impossible, let me tell you that there are all kinds of people out there who desperately want something, yet who are scared to death of finding the very thing they want. Which may also explain why lonely people look for lovers in want ads, given that there is not much chance of finding them there.
But back to our story. This time we have God looking for Adam. God calls out: "Where are you?" To which Adam says: "I'm hiding." Which is really a rather stupid thing to say if you are genuinely hiding. Did you ever play hide and seek with a small child? No matter how well the child has hidden, he will always find some way to tip off his whereabouts, because a child cannot stand the thought of not being found.
I must confess to you that I am not enamored with the idea of Adam in hiding. I want Adam to start things off with God on a more equal footing. None of this hiding business. I want Adam and God to sit down man to man. A man who runs and hides from God is a man who will surely pass the buck, first chance he gets. Definitely unmanly. Adam exhibits very poor form.
In fact, I would like to see the story written differently. I would have God come to Adam's office. I would put the office at the top of a very tall building. An "office tower" would be nice. God would have to look up Adam's floor upon entering the lobby. Then God would have to take an elevator to Adam's suite. God would check in with the receptionist, who would politely inquire as to the proper spelling of God's name, before phoning word of God's arrival to Adam's inner office.
Upon appearing at the door, Adam would be very gracious. He would ask that God be shown in, and would instruct his secretary to hold all calls for the next half hour or so. God would comment favorably on the furniture in Adam's office, taking special note of the art on Adam's walls. There would be a recent picture of Eve on the desk. God would render an approving comment. Adam would then send out for coffee and Danish, trying to remember whether God took one lump or two. Adam would try on, only to reject, the idea of inviting God home for dinner.... not being certain how Eve would take it, and remembering that the Garden was still a little bit messy when he went to work that morning. At long last, they would begin to talk, with God on one side of the desk and Adam on the other.
Don't tell me I can't write it that way. I can write it any way I want. After all, all I am trying to do is cover up Adam's nakedness a little bit. And concerning this business of "nakedness," remember that "being naked" in this story has little to do with the lack of adequate clothing. Being naked in this story has everything to do with the lack of an adequate defense. To be naked means to be stripped of any visible means of covering one's tail. To be naked is to be exposed.... and to be aware that one is exposed.
But don't miss what comes next. Note that it is Adam, not God, who introduces the subject of nakedness. God simply asks the question: "Where are you?" God does not say: "Come out, come out, wherever you are.... two bits says you're naked as a jay bird." No, God doesn't say that at all. God just inquires as to the whereabouts of Adam. It is Adam who says: "I heard the sound of You in the garden, but I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid." And don't miss what God says next. God says: "Who told you that you were naked?" I love that. It means that Adam spilled his condition before he was even accused. God does not have to say anything. God does not have to ask Adam anything. God does not have to investigate, interrogate, or even cross examine Adam. God simply has to show up and Adam spills the beans.
Which leads me to a story. It's a Howard Thurman story. Howard Thurman was a saintly black preacher.... author of spiritual classics.... semi-mystic.... founding pastor of San Francisco's Church of All
Nations.... and (finally) Dean of the Chapel at Boston University. Howard Thurman was recalling his boyhood years.
The streets were a way of life, and the game of the streets was marbles. But with our gang there were certain rules. Among our gang you could trade marbles and you could win marbles, but you couldn't keep any marbles you won from another kid on the street. And, most importantly, you could never keep another kid's "shooter" marble. But one day a new kid moved onto the block. And this new kid was fat and friendless. But he soon found that the entré into our group depended on getting some marbles. Which he did. They were all new and shiny, not like ours. So we decided to let him play. But where marbles were concerned, this kid wasn't very good. And he wasn't very bright. And he didn't know the rules that prevailed on our street. So we let him watch.... which made him feel good. Then we let him play.... which made him feel better. Then we let him win a little.... which made him feel great. And then we cleaned him out.... and divided up his marbles. And among the marbles I took home was his "shooter." It was the most beautiful and brilliant marble I had ever seen.
I took my new prize home and added it to my collection. I was polishing it before bed when my mama came in. My mama looked at my marbles.... looked at me.... looked at my marbles.... and said: "Howard, where'd you get that shiny shooter?" I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was seeing right through me. I managed to mumble some excuse, even though I could tell that she was seeing right through that too. But she didn't say anything. She just shrugged her shoulders and left the room. Still I could tell that she was disappointed in me. After that, the marble didn't seem nearly so pretty.
So after a night of mostly not sleeping, I took the new marbles back to school. And when my friends weren't around, I gave them back to the kid who was fat and friendless. That night, just before dinner, I walked through the kitchen where my mama was. And as I was about to pass into the dining room, I said (over my shoulder): "By the way, you'll be glad to know that I gave back the marbles I stole." Quickly, she turned and said: "Howard, what are you talking about? What marble, who stole?" And then I realized that she didn't know anything about it. It was all in me.
And God said to Adam: "Adam, whatever are you talking about? Who told you, you were naked?"
Some people don't like religion because they say it makes them feel guilty. That may be true. But I also suppose that there are times when religion takes a bum rap. Religion does not make us feel guilty. We make ourselves feel guilty. Most of us do not need a lot of help.
How schizophrenic we are. We look for God because we can't stand the loneliness. And we hide from the God we look for, because we can't stand the exposure. Thankfully, God often finds us first, cutting through the schizophrenic splitness of our human condition.
Let's make a big jump. Jump with me 900 years.... 900 pages.... and one entire Testament. See Jesus talking to a foreign woman by a village well. They are standing there at noontime. The time of the day seems like such a throwaway detail. But it's not. It is extremely significant. We are not certain as to why Jesus is there at noontime. For sake of argument, let's assume that He is thirsty. We do, however, know why the lady is there at noontime. She is there because nice ladies come to the well in the morning and the evening. But she is not a nice lady. So she comes at noon to avoid getting stared at or talked about.
The conversation begins. I hope that you know how strange it is that this conversation (between a male, would-be, Jewish messiah and a not-so-nice foreign lady) takes place at all. But what a wonderful conversation it turns out to be. She wants to talk about water. Then she wants to talk about theology. It seems that Jesus wants to talk about husbands. She has had five. And she is currently living with number six, who is not yet hers by benefit of clergy. And I'd give almost anything to have heard the last two or three hours of that conversation. Because if you think that John has told us everything that happened there, you're more naive than I think you are. Somehow, Jesus found her.... talked to her... listened to her.... and then confronted her in a way that was so brutally honest, and yet so wonderfully affirming, that she went back to her village a different woman. And later that evening, when she didn't respond to the men at the tavern in the way that she usually did, she told them: "I want you to come see this man by the well, who spoke to my human situation in a way that no one ever spoke to it before."
And because there is so much hunger in us for that kind of honesty and that kind of love, the author of John's gospel adds this marvelous little detail when he says: "And the whole village dropped what they were doing and came running out to see this miracle for themselves."
My friends, whether you run after it
whether you stand still and let it come to you
whether it reaches in and pulls you out of your hiding place
when you hear that kind of word
or when you meet that kind of love
for God's sake (and for your own) take it personally
