Photo by Alice Dietrich on Unsplash
Karen Hollis | Sept 22, 2024
Pentecost 18
1 Peter 4:7-11 NRSV The end of all things is near; therefore be serious and discipline yourselves for the sake of your prayers. Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaining. Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received. Whoever speaks must do so as one speaking the very words of God; whoever serves must do so with the strength that God supplies, so that God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ. To him belong the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
There’s a particular line in Peter’s letter that really drew me in: like good stewards of the manifold grace of God serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received . . . the manifold grace, the many forms of grace, the numerous manifestations of grace. Is Peter saying each of us is the caretaker of a different aspect of the grace of God? That seems like a huge responsibility . . . an incredible honour . . . perhaps even a burden.
This idea of using our gifts is tricky for many of us . . . first we have to think: what are my gifts? Do I have gifts? There was a woman in my previous congregation, who would never own her gifts – she would say she’s “just part of the woodwork” . . . as she went around taking care of tasks no one else knew to do. She was formed in God’s image as someone who simply got things done . . . and that is not everyone’s gift. She, like many of us, came with humility about what she had to offer, or perhaps had a self-image that was more limited than what others saw. Sometimes it takes those around us reflecting back to us for us to see and eventually own more of the fullness of who we are.
Peter offers this imperative and then, doesn’t really offer an operating manual . . . and I suppose he wouldn’t if he believed the life and world they’ve known were coming to an end.
For us, in this time and place, it might be nice to have that manual. If we did have a manual, it might tell us that we have choices. It might go into great detail about how we are complex, we grow and change, how our gifts might emerge and blossom in one season and a different gift shines forth in another season. It might remind us that we identified strongly with a gift at one point and find it difficult to connect with it down the line. Some gifts helped us become who we are and blazed a trail for new gifts to emerge and engage in the world. A manual might affirm that we are in the driver’s seat of our gifts . . . (hesitantly) the Holy Spirit may have some input too.
What we do with our gifts is a question of discernment in any given season. And discernment doesn’t have to mean sitting down with a pen and paper and deciding which gifts we are called to today. A manual might teach us about listening to our lives to tell us about what brings us joy, what we have to offer, and the needs that arise in our context.
In school I did quite a bit of math and science. When I came toward the end of university, I acknowledged that while I was pretty good at math, I didn’t find a lot of joy in it. If I was going to go on in physics and astronomy, I would have to learn a lot more math . . . and I didn’t really want to put in the amount of time and energy it would require. I chose not to continue on the path of science and welcomed the path of ministry when that call came a year later. I never saw myself as a preacher, but I think about that path in my life when I read Peter continue with “whoever speaks must do so as one speaking the very words of God” . . . that’s a big responsibility. It seems that my call to preach was nestled within many other gifts and skills that kept me on this path. I worked with children, youth, families, I mentored young adults, led retreats, crafted worship experiences, deepened my own relationship with God, then, as I was taking my first parish, I acknowledged that in order to take this call, I was going to have to preach every week. The one thing I had been avoiding. I didn’t feel gifted in preaching and honestly didn’t want to do it. Still, the call was there to preach words and if God’s word is heard in them, even better! I said yes, with God as my guide. It has been a hard road . . . and little by little that identity grew in me. The most crucial part of was learning how to engage God in the preparation. I would read and study and think and nap and listen and even cry. Somewhere along the road, I finally started to pray. I learned to stop in the middle of my research, open myself to the presence of God, and ask: what is this sermon about? Perhaps follow up with: what does the congregation need to hear? What would you have me say? And it works. Why does it work?
As lifelong learners, I hope you don’t mind me going down a little rabbit hole to explore prayer and intentionality. I would call it a teaching moment if I didn’t feel like I was still learning and a co-explorer along the road. I’m fascinated by the mechanics of prayer, so here we go.
I don’t know why prayer works the way it does, but this is my experience – you can tell me if it is yours, as well – I can twist myself inside out trying to figure something out, but when I stop and find myself in the presence of God and say, “here’s where I’m at, I need help,” things begin to click or connections begin to happen, whether it is with my sermon or something else.
As I said before, we are in the driver’s seat of our process. In the context of prayer, there is an abundance of spiritual help and resources for us . . . through the Holy Spirit, angels/messengers, ancestors, and probably more. They are present and either very patient or have an agreement that they will only engage with us when we name our need, name our goal, and orient ourselves accordingly.
From a scientific perspective, we’re talking about the Reticular Activating System, which is a diffuse network of nerve pathways at our brainstem that filters out unnecessary information, so the important stuff gets through. There are too many stimuli in our environment for us to pay attention to everything, so the Reticular Activating System filters through the things that are important, based on our belief systems and intentions. It’s the reason when you decide to buy a bright green car, you begin to see bright green cars everywhere.
Science and spirituality have never been at odds for me . . . and in this example, they seem to be beautifully consistent with one another. Whether prayer works because our spiritual helpers need permission to engage with us, or because setting an intention calibrates our Reticular Activating System, naming our need and asking for help does have a noticeable impact on our lives. In a few minutes, Elaine Brown is going to invite us to engage with an exciting new initiative – this might be a wonderful opportunity to ask your angels or your reticular activating system . . . hmmm, what do I have to offer? Which of my gifts fit here? Perhaps you might talk with a friend and see what they reflect back to you. Imagine the possibilities!
1. https://medium.com/desk-of-van-schneider/if-you-want-it-you-might-get-it-reticular-activating-system-explained-761b6ac14e53