As a child, when I feel down and skinned my knee, there was nothing I wanted more than to be held in the arms of a parent. Their soothing words helped me to know that this moment of crisis was only temporary and that I would be okay.
When I was a bit older, I suffered an injury of my own making. I had decided to stand on the landing of the staircase and leap! trying to determine just how far I could jump. I was old enough I should have known better. I was old enough that I shouldn’t have needed a parent to offer comfort. And yet, even when you know its your own fault or when you think you are too big, the comfort of a parent is still welcomed.
As we grow up or as the hurts and wounds of our lives increase, that feeling doesn’t necessarily change. In those vulnerable moments of our lives, we want to be surrounded by people that are our family… whether our biological or our chosen family. When my own dad lost a couple of fingers in a workplace accident, countless relatives made the trip up to Mayo in Rochester, Minnesota to visit him and to sit with my parents during that long recovery.
And Pastor Todd and I have joined so many of you and your loved ones around hospital beds, in pre-surgery suites, and at home, as you have navigated illness and injury as well. I always find myself incredibly honored to be able to join in those moments. They are spaces of vulnerability and intimacy, holy spaces, and it is a joy to be able to name and lift up the presence of God that accompanies you on your journey.
Marcia McFee reminds us that we feel “at home” whenever we are in a place and surrounded by people where it is safe to be vulnerable. Where we can bring our full selves – wounds, scars, faults and all, and we are still loved and accepted. There, in that space, among those people, we are family.
You accidently back the car into the garage, but you know you will still be loved.
You fail a test at school, but there will still be dinner on the table.
A difficult diagnosis comes at the doctor’s office and there is someone beside you holding your hand.
You lose your job, but there are people who have your back and will support you until you are back on your feet.
You can share your struggles and you know they will be heard and that somehow you will be okay.
But, many of us have not experienced family in that way.
The homes some of us grew up in were not safe spaces.
Maybe it was the constant demand for perfection…
Or Alcoholism…
Neglect…
Or maybe even just that Midwestern work-ethic… Iowa nice… that invited you to always put on a smile because we don’t talk about our problems.
Or perhaps there has been a disagreement or a conflict that grew so impassioned that no one feels safe to authentically be themselves or to speak more than surface level small talk – fearing rejection or the dissolution of relationship.
My heart grieves when I hear about young people who are on the streets because they have fled from a home where they are not safe or where they have not be accepted.
I lament the brokenness of so many of our homes… that busyness and conflict have turned so many families into strangers that simply share space with one another.
And I am particularly saddened when I discover ways that this family, this community – the church, has turned their back on one of their children or has not been there in a time of need.
The church is like any human institution. It is full of imperfect people who make mistakes.
And yet, we claim to follow Jesus, and that is supposed to make a difference in the way we love and treat one another.
Perhaps that is why the disappointment is even greater… I expect more of us.
Today, and throughout this week, the bishops of the United Methodist Church are gathering to be in a time of discernment around how we might continue to live together as a family. I invite you to join with me in prayer about how we might truly, authentically, bring our full selves into relationship with one another and how we might offer love and acceptance to even those with whom we mightily disagree.
It is not an easy time for our church or for this particular church.
But when I think about where we lose our way and why we might have forgotten what it means to be a family, I begin to wonder if maybe we have forgotten who we follow.
Maybe we have become so preoccupied with rules…
So busy thinking about physical structures…
Too worried about how something sounds or how long we have been gone…
We have stopped paying attention to the one who called us here in the first place.
In the epistle this morning, this first letter from John, we are urged to consider the kind of love that the Father has given to us. “What marvelous love the Father has extended to us! Just look at it – we’re called children of God! That’s who we really are… and that’s only the beginning. Who knows how we’ll end up! What we know is that when Christ is openly revealed, we’ll see him- and in seeing him become like him. All of us who look forward to his Coming stay ready, with the glistening purity of Jesus’ life as a model for our own…”
We see God’s marvelous love through Jesus Christ. The one who was born into a human family. Who took on our flesh. Who relied upon the care of a mother and a father. Who created a family of disciples. Who reached out to touch people in their brokenness and offer forgiveness and healing. And who ultimately took our sin and our shame to the cross and who died for our sake.
We are called to keep our eyes on Jesus.
And when we do so, we remember that although his heart was pure, his body was far from perfect.
He bore within his very skin and bones the wounds of God’s love for us.
When he appeared among the disciples after his resurrection, those wounds were not something to be hidden and they did not magically go away.
No, Jesus invited them to reach out and touch his hands and his feet.
These disciples were the same ones who had rejected him and turned their backs.
They had not caused his physical wounds, but they had certainly caused harm through their actions.
And yet, Jesus shows up, right there in their midst, offering love, forgiveness, and acceptance.
Not hiding how he has been hurt, but through is hurt, sharing God’s love.
Henri Nouwen, in his reflection on the Wounded Healer reminds us that “nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, ‘How can we hid our wound?’ so we don’t have to be embarrassed, but ‘How can we put our woundedness in service of others?’ When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.”
In the church, there are certainly wounds that abound among us. Physical illness. The damage of an unkind word. And unintentionally brush-off. Mistakes and missteps. The pain of being gone too long. The feeling that we are not good enough to offer our gifts or our talents. But if we truly were to follow the example of Christ in this building, in the United Methodist Church, in our Christian families, then those wounds, that brokenness would find safe space here. We would find that we are able to be present with one another and offer peace and forgiveness. We wouldn’t hide our illness, but would invite others to journey with us and pray for us. We would not be ashamed of physical limitations, but would celebrate the ways we can serve. We would speak truth and peace to those who have hurt us – just as Jesus invited us to in Matthew chapter 18.
In a family, among loved ones, wounds are healed. Hurts are forgiven. Faults are accepted.
And God our Parent, Christ our Brother has called you into this place so that you might know that love that so far surpasses any earthly love you might ever experience.
And as our God loves us, we are called to love and accept and offer healing and forgiveness to one another – one family, united by Christ.
May it be so.
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