A sermon supplement of sorts.
In my sermon today I spoke of the phrase “stay safe” that my son and other Gen Z folks whom I admire use when parting ways. I wrestle with its meaning. Am I in danger? Do I need protection? Do I have a safe place, literally and figuratively? The church ought to be a safe space, right?
People attend church for a variety of reasons. Insert yours here. Our mutual connection? The invisible string through it all, the tie that binds. We all need Jesus: to heal our brokenness, to forgive our sins, to nourish, strengthen, and equip us for our individual and collective callings, to offer words of hope and encouragement, and daily grace. According to my life mission statement (which I pray was Spirit inspired), I aim to be a messenger of mercy, a purveyor of peace, a harbinger of hope. I ask God to help and guide me every day. “Help” is a valid prayer.
To stand in the pulpit, before the people, and before God, is done with a fair amount of fear and trembling every week. As it should be, to a degree. The calling to preach the gospel feels like a weighted blanket: a heavy, holy hug. Every week lately I ask myself, “Am I preaching with the boldness needed for our time or I am staying safe?” Being brave and scared are not mutually exclusive, preacher. What can I possibly say with world events going on (which people are clearly divided over) that could offer that word of hope to those clinging to that invisible string with anywhere from a pinky finger to all their might? When we get distracted, which easily occurs amid the chaos of the world, we remove our grasp from the invisible string, making it easy to fall off and turn away altogether. We take our eyes off Jesus. For those still here, This is where we say, “Get behind me, Satan!”
Then I recall that it’s not up to me. God gives the growth. Growth happens in stretching one’s comfort zone, requiring some discomfort, which does not mean sacrificing one’s safety. The best I can do is to continue to point folks to Jesus using the gifts God has graced me with. That feels doable right now.
Now I see “stay safe” as words of blessing. The person saying these parting words loves and cares for me and my welfare. They do not wish harm upon me. Well wishes for well-being.
Stay safe, friends.