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“Terrified and Dying”

Sermon by Chad Miller
on Scripture: John 4:5-42
given February 24, 2008

As Greg is not here this morning, I believe I will begin with a story...about Greg. A couple months back my boss, the Reverend Doctor Gregory Jones, came to me and asked if I would like to go for a run on Christmas morning. I quickly said, “Yes!” wanting to please my boss. Then I thought to myself. What on earth did you just accept to do!!

If you know Greg, you know that Greg is a marathon runner. Greg is also over 6 feet tall. If you can see me, you know that I top out at about 5’10”. And while I enjoy running—I enjoy running a mile or two as opposed to 26. In fact, my daily routine is that I usually walk about a ¼ of a mile then job about a mile and a ½ and then walk another ¼ mile. On a really good day I might actually jog two or three miles, following which I am very, very proud of me.

As the facts hit me, that my legs were significantly shorter than Greg’s and of course his ability to run 23 more miles than I can run on my very best of days, I quickly called back to him, “I don’t know Greg. I really don’t think it would be much fun for you to run with me; I can really only jog about 2 miles

“Great! Two miles it is! See you tomorrow morning,” he called back.

The next morning, Christmas day, I headed out at 8:00 a.m. Greg ran from his house to my house, where I joined him for our “run” together. We headed down my street then up Delaware Avenue towards Rockford Park. After just a few blocks, I was acutely aware that for every one of Greg’s strides it took me one and a half strides to keep up. After a few more blocks I began to notice how Greg’s running pace was significantly quicker than my normal jogging pace. After a few more blocks I noticed for the very first time how very steep Delaware Avenue is and I began to think, “Oh crap! I feel like I am gonna die!” As we reached Rockford Park, the seemingly endless hill that was Delaware Avenue ended and the even steeper hill that leads into the park began!

Greg, of course, continued to run without missing a beat or slowing in the least. In fact as if to mock me, he was making light and friendly conversation as we ascended the hill. Conversation of which I was less and less a part as I fell further and further behind him. Finally, as we neared the top of the hill, my legs and lungs burning, thoughts of fear and death permeating each and every excruciating step and being no less than 10 to 15 feet behind Greg, I called out with that I thought might be my very last breath, “Greg! Can’t go on! Gotta walk!”

At which point Greg slowed down, came back to meet me exactly where I was and we walked together for about a ¼ of a mile, then we jogged for about a mile and a ½, and then we walked for another ¼ mile.

During this season of Lent I to have tried to slow down by doing a lot of reading and thinking and meditating and praying, which is what you are supposed to do during Lent. I have spent a good deal of this time pondering a statement from a theologian, whose name I cannot remember. But his statement was this, “The human condition can be summed up in one sentence. People are terrified and dying creatures.”

This statement has really troubled me, primarily, because I am neither terrified nor dying. In my normal day to day life, I am in never fearful, let alone terrified; not even dying truly scares me.

As I read and thought and meditated and prayed, I remembered that when I accepted that love, the love that knew everything about me, both good and very, very bad, and loved me still, the fears and insecurities that had once defined my life began to slowly disappear forever.

William Sloane Coffin wrote, “Too often the churches have taught that the opposite of live is hate, just as they have taught the opposite of peace is conflict. What the opposite of peace is I am not sure. I know it is not conflict...But as regards love, I am sure the Bible is right: the opposite of love is not hate but fear. ‘There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.’”(i)

While our story from John this morning never explicitly mentions love, we see all the elements of love there. Not sentimental love or romantic love, but the love that claims a person completely and casts out all fears—a love that seeks out those who desire to have life gushing up within their being like a never ending fountain.

God’s love meets the woman at the well exactly where she is. Even though ethnic and gender cultural norms of that time dictated that they should not interact in any way, God’s love crosses those lines without hesitation or fear and accepts the woman as she is. God’s love offers her “the gift of living water” and when she fails to fully grasp what is being said, God’s love does not judge her or harshly correct her. But instead, God’s love tells her of spirit and truth, worship and salvation. And in the presence of God’s love made known in Jesus the Christ everything changes, priorities shift, perspectives are altered and fear is no more.

The author of John skillfully shows us this transformation. At the beginning of the story the woman came to the well for the express purpose of drawing water. When she leaves to tell her fiends about Jesus, she has left her water jar behind.

My problem is that this is where I usually, this is where I start. Leave your water jar! Leave everything and let’s go into the world to tell of the good news of Jesus Christ and serve the poor!

So I read and thought and meditated and prayed some more. After quite some time, I finally was able to remember moments in my life many years ago when I did feel like a terrified and dying creature.

And then it hit me.

We are not all marathon runners—spiritually speaking. One of the vocational benefits and hazards of being a pastor is that you are paid to read and think and meditate and pray. In a sense, pastors are the Christian equivalent of professional athletes. And each Sunday morning we invite you to come running with us—so to speak.

Like most professionals, I love challenges and new thoughts and new ideas in my area of expertise. I don’t want to talk about the basics; what I want to talk about is kenotic ethics, sotierology and the missional and epistemological implications of postmodernism and deconstructionist thought for the Christian faith in the 21st century. I love to preach short, but provocative, sermons about radical selfless giving, renouncing wealth and self interest, and about our profound responsibility to serve with all that we are as Christians in a world of suffering and need.

And as I run to the top of that hill of theology and discipline, from time to time I might need to listen for the voices of my running partners, who are trying to cry out, “Chad! Can’t go on! Gotta walk!”

So, I am letting you all off the self-sacrifice, personal-responsibility, social justice, mission hook this morning. And let’s go back to the basics and walk together.

Truth be told, as much as I love to talk about and try to embrace the radical call of Christ to a new way of selfless living, it was not that call that brought me to the place where I no longer lived as someone who was terrified and dying. What brought me to that place, the place where I am today, is the same thing that slowed Greg down on our run together, the same thing that Jesus gave to the woman at the well, the very same thing we all thurst for more than anything else in this life.

And what is it that we terrified and dying people desire more than anything else?

Love!

Most of us are desperate to be embraced and accepted. We want so badly to have just one person who knows us completely, good and bad, and who will still love us. Many of us are terrified that we will never encounter that kind of love. And worse, too many people believe themselves unworthy of such a love as that.

From young couples getting married to the kids in Chapel Club to the well seasoned veterans of life, I hear again and again statements like:

“I hope they liked me.”

“I don’t feel accepted.”

I am so scared I am going to screw up this relationship.”

“Did you feel like your parents loved you unconditionally? I didn’t.”

“I’m terrified of being alone.”

If you have ever had any of these feelings, you know that you would give just about anything to have someone, something, meet you exactly where you are and lovingly walk with you on this journey of life.

I guess I’m lucky or blessed, because that has been my experience of God. My experience of God is in part an intellectual pursuit, which is very Reformed and Presbyterian. But in a much less Presbyterian way, my experience of God is also deeply felt and known within my being. My life of faith began with a palpable experience of God’s love meeting me exactly where I was, knowing me completely and loving me more than I can understand.

I am not big into certainty or absolutes. But I am absolutely certain that God love me and will always love me and there is nothing I can do to make God stop loving me.

The truth is, I can talk forever about the radical ethics of Jesus, the call to discipleship, mission, and self-sacrifice, but if you don’t know about the radical love that God has for you in Jesus the Christ, like the apostle Paul once wrote, all I am is a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

So, friends here we are at the basics.

Hear the good news of Jesus Christ and believe it for you have heard it for yourselves!

No matter whom you are, no matter where you are, no matter what:

God loves you! God loves you! God loves you! Thanks be to God. Amen.

Notes:

1) Coffin, William Sloane; Credo; Westminster John Knox Press; 2004; page 27.

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