A Sermon by Pastor Tom Lacey . . .

how much faith?

Mark 5:25-34, Preached at Congregational Church of Boca Raton, March 8, 2009

A story is told of a Jewish man who was riding on the subway reading an Arab newspaper. A friend of his, who happened to be riding in the same subway car, noticed this strange phenomenon. Very upset, he approached the newspaper reader: "Moshe, have you lost your mind? Why are you reading an Arab newspaper?" Moshe replied: "I used to read the Jewish newspaper, but what did I find? Jews being persecuted, Israel being attacked, Jews disappearing through assimilation and intermarriage, Jews living in poverty. So I switched to the Arab newspaper. Now what do I find? Jews own all the banks, Jews control the media, Jews are all rich and powerful, Jews rule the world. The news is so much better." Faith is a bit like this: Believing the good news more than the bad news.

“Sola Fide”–by faith alone–was one of the central tenets of the Reformation of the Christian church in Europe in the 1600’s. By faith alone in Jesus Christ we are saved, by God and for God, so declared the great reformers Martin Luther and John Calvin. This was the match that lit the fires of revival and renewal. Now, on the one hand, saved by faith alone sound like all you need is faith; but on the other hand, it makes it seem like you better make sure you have faith, and enough of it, to make the whole thing work. So it becomes very important to answer the question how much faith is enough faith?

In Paul’s letter to the church in Rome he talks a lot about faith. Now Rome is the heart of European, Middle Eastern and North African civilization, the center of law and government, and the unchallenged super power in that day. The citizens of Rome are quite proud of all they have accomplished, and they are quick to remind any one who may doubt them, that they are in charge. So Paul is writing to prosperous people, who are well-educated, in control, and extremely civilized in all things. They were raised right. What on earth could this Galilean preacher named Jesus mean to them?  In addition, among these Romans is a subgroup of pretty well-off people, who are called Jews. They are descendants of Abraham and Sarah, of David and Bathsheba. They are the ones who have faithfully preserved the words of Moses and who honor God in all manner of rules, obligations, and kosher duties.  They dress a certain way, they worship a certain way, they eat only the right foods, they do only the right things in public—they are not like the other people who do not know God. They are people who do the right things. They are righteous.

We should have a lot of sympathy for both of these groups for we are people who do the right things. At least that is our goal. We dress right, eat right, go to work, love our families, defend our nation, drive the speed limit (mostly). We eat our vegetables, we vote, we speak to the neighbors down the street. We don’t listen to the gossip around the swimming pool. We delete the slander passed by text message. We are righteous people. We do the right things.

So what are we doing here? Why come to this place of worship on a fine Sunday morning, if we have things so under control? Maybe we are here because we know that all this “rightness” is not enough. Perhaps we are here because we know there is more wrong with us than meets the eye, just as there is more wrong with everyone than meets the eye. A nice suit and a haircut can cover a lot of deeper stuff. We are here because we have a desire to hear a word from the Lord for us good, righteous people, who see more problems than we can fix; who often don’t know how to talk to the people who are closest to us; who are rich in things but short on meaning; who are right as rain and still find mud on our feet.

The Apostle Paul knows all this about us. He grew up in all this righteousness as a card-carrying Pharisee. His mama raised him right, to obey the rules and to succeed no matter what. But Paul’s great discovery is this: that finally and ultimately, it is not about us. It is about this guy named Jesus, and the God who sent him. It is not about our list of good deeds or our list of bad deeds. It is about the deed of the one Christ, who gave himself for us and for our salvation. What matters is whom we call on for help; who we trust in our darkest moments; who we thank on our best days. “Those who call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus and his righteousness. The true righteousness in us is not of our own making, but of God’s cleansing, loving, forgiving Christ in us. 

We are saved by faith in this Jesus, whom God sent for us. That is our bottom line, and the great reformation of our lives. So if we are saved by faith, how much faith does it take? Are we talking “move a mountain” faith?  “walk on water” faith?  “sell all you have and give to the poor” faith? That’s a lot of faith! Let me put it this way. How much faith does it take for Peter to cry, “Lord, save me!” as he did when he’s sinking in the waves? Or how much faith does it take for the blind man by the roadside to call out, “Jesus, be merciful to me”? Or how about our woman this morning? How much faith does it take for the woman with the chronic bleeding to sneak up behind Jesus just to touch the edge of his robe? How much faith does it take for a dying thief to say, “Lord, remember me?” 

How much faith does it take? Jesus said a mustard seed of faith is enough. This is faith: knowing whom to call. This is faith: knowing that we need mercy, and turning to the one God sent. This is faith: hoping in the right direction with our hand out, desiring some small contact with the one who is holy. Those who call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.

Columnist Mike Royko tells about a practical joke that was played on a man in Madison, Wisconsin. This man and three friends were enjoying a fishing trip at a secluded lake. They fished all day, had a few beers and played some poker. Every night they went to bed at about 10:00 and got up before Newspaper dawn for more fishing. One of them, who we'll call Joe, was the first to his bunk one night. He was exhausted, and was snoring within a few minutes. Then one of his friends had an idea. He got Joe's wristwatch off the dresser and changed the time to 4:45. Then they all got together and changed their own watches, including the alarm clock, to 4:45. The alarm was set to go off at five o'clock, or just fifteen minutes later. Then the conspirators turned off all the lights, took off their clothes, and went to bed. Fifteen minutes later when the alarm clock went off, they all got up, shuffled around, and made the grumbly, miserable sounds that people usually make early in the morning. One of them put toast and coffee on. The only truly miserable one, of course, was Joe. He sat on the edge of his bed, shaking his head and moaning. He kept looking at his watch and complaining that he felt like he hadn't gotten any sleep. "I must be getting old," he said as they dropped anchor and began fishing. Every few minutes, he'd glance at his watch and look at the eastern horizon and say: "What time have you got?"
"Five-forty," somebody would say. "Boy, it's dark," Joe would say. And a little later: "What time have you got? "Six," someone would answer. Then Joe began to get concerned. "Shouldn't it be getting light soon?" By the time his watch said 6:40, he had stopped fishing. He just sat there staring into the darkness. Finally, his voice cracking in genuine terror, he cried: "I'm telling you, something is wrong! It's not getting light today! It's not getting light! "It's the end of the world," his buddies hooted. "Doesn't matter," one of them said, "because the fish aren't biting anyway." That's when Joe caught on. And he took it rather well, although they did have to wrestle an oar out of his hands.

It's a funny story, but Joe's words are haunting if you think about them for a few moments. "Something is wrong! It's not getting light! It's not getting light!" Faith is trusting that even when you can’t see the light, God’s day will still rise for you.

But just so we’re clear about something, remember that the woman in our story has enough faith to go to Jesus. She gets up and makes sure she takes hold of his robe. Her faith isn’t a wish. Her faith, real faith, leads to action. Faith without works is dead. Now here’s the thing, or even the problem. Too often we have faith with works and believe this makes for perfection. It doesn’t. Faith with works simply means you’re a good person, but still human nonetheless.

I wonder what reformation might get started among us if we take these words to heart? We might be saved from the guilt of all things that we have not gotten done.  If it is not about our good deeds, it is also not about our misdeeds or our missed opportunities. We might be saved from the blame game.  We would be saved from the waste of time and energy blaming those people across town or across the table or across the world.  The blame game is an attempt to find some way to justify our anger or to defend our own frail egos.  We might be saved from a constant anxiety; from the abiding notion that it is all up to us, and we had better get it right.

Finally and ultimately, we are in God’s hands. And this God has sent Jesus to catch us, to pull us up, to set our feet on solid ground, to show us the way home. To live without guilt, blame, anxiety – surely that would be a foretaste of eternal life. Those who call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. 

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