Romans 8:31-39 "Free Fall"

         I do not know about you, but sometimes I think that the letters of the Apostle Paul – and most particularly the letter to the Romans – would be a good cure for insomnia.  The letter is not easy reading.  That is for sure.  It is filled with lengthy complicated sentences and spouts some fairly abstract theology.  Furthermore, oftentimes it has a convoluted grammatical structure. 

         Paul’s letters are not like the Gospels that are filled with engaging stories about Jesus – Jesus in the synagogue, in a boat, on a hillside.  We find no stories about Jesus healing lepers and mentally ill people and folks with all sorts of physical disabilities.  There are no tales of storms that are calmed, water that is turned into wine, and lunch for 5000 people. 

         You see, Paul’s letters have nothing to do with history or the things Jesus did.  Paul has no interest in telling stories.  Paul’s letters are about ideas - ideas about Jesus as the Christ, the Anointed One, ideas about God, a whole bunch of ideas that, when you put them all together, explain Paul’s view of the Good News of the Gospel. 

        Paul was getting ready to travel as a missionary to Spain when he wrote this particular letter to the church congregation in Rome, the capitol of the Empire.  Because he got waylaid there, ended up in prison, and was eventually executed, this letter was the last one that he composed and is a summary of his core theology. 

         Paul was an old man at the time and a mature Christian.  That is, this letter to the Roman church was not composed right after his conversion experience on the road to Damascus.  You might remember that as the time when he was struck by what seemed to be lightning and heard what seemed to be the voice of Jesus calling him.  This letter we simply call Romans was written some thirty years later.  By that time, Paul had had decades to reflect on his faith, to hone and refine it.

         I find it both inspiring and tremendously comforting that a culminating aspect of Paul’s theology blossoms in the verses we just read this morning:

“And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow— not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.  No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

         What Paul is saying in all that flowery language is that God loves us. The world and everyone in it is God’s beloved creation – for all time – neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow – not even the powers of hell – can cause God’s love for each and every one of us to disappear – or even diminish one iota.  God’s love is strong and remains with all of us for all time. That is what the Apostle Paul is telling us in this wonderful passage. 

         That was also the message we received at our baptism - such a symbol of God’s grace - and that is the message that we will need to carry with us into this Lenten season as we explore our worship series theme of “Roll Down Justice” through the lens of the ancient ritual and sacrament of baptism.

         The title of our series comes from the words of the Old Testament prophet Amos, who said: “Let justice roll down like water and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” 

Those are eloquent and powerful words.  But what does it mean to let justice roll down like the mighty waters of a flood and consume our lives as well as the lives of those we touch?  And how do we actually go about doing it?  That will be our challenge as we journey with Jesus these forty days of Lent – travel with him all the way through Holy Week and to the cross.

         However, we are getting ahead of ourselves.  You see, it all begins with God’s promise to love us – no matter what – not “us” in the exclusive “us and them” way we often use the term nowadays, but “us” in the most all-encompassing, global, and expansive sense possible.  God loves all of us in the world.

         There was once a little boy who was baptized. “God loves you.  You belong to God,” the pastor told him as she made the sign of the cross on his forehead.

           The next day, the child told his mother, "I can still feel the cross. I hope it never comes off."

           The watery cross undoubtedly wore off his forehead, but not God's unconditional promise of love.  Writing in the Huffington Post about the baptism of Jesus, Vicki Flippin of The Church of the Village in New York City says, "I tell folks that baptism is the church declaring what has always been true, that each of us belongs to God and only to God. (We are) claimed by God above all other claims."

         And heaven knows, every person faces so many competing – and often malignant and polarizing - claims in our world today.  We are claimed as Democrats or Republicans, as conservatives or progressives, as deeply admiring of our President or thinking he is not doing such a hot job.  We are claimed as white and privileged or part of a victimized minority.  We are claimed as successes or failures in our jobs and family life.  We are claimed as devote Christians or Islamic terrorists.  We are claimed as “us” and “them”.  

         Oh, our inclusive faith and the divisive culture that surrounds us are so much at odds!  As United Church of Christ pastor Jeffrey Carlson wrote, “Throughout our lives, the world does a lot to try to bully the beloved that’s within us – at school, at our workplace, even in our families. But we are called to be people who bring out the beloved in each other – through kindness, a tender heart, gracious forgiveness, building each other up as beloved sons and daughters of God.”

         What would it feel like to live as if we really believed that each person was one of God’s beloved?  What would it feel like to live as if our faith in the Gospel was stronger than the teachings of our culture?  What would it feel like to be a person who trusted that nothing has the power to separate us from the love of God and that no one – no matter what others may tell us - is bereft of God’s love?  What would it be like to have the confidence to proclaim that the only separation between the “other guy” (the one you fear, the one you distrust) and God is the separation you choose to insist upon? What would it be like to have the courage and confidence to proclaim – and live – with a different outlook on life – one where justice rolled down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream?

         Would we bring contributions for the Food Pantry more regularly?  Would we seek out a Muslim and talk about our faith and hers? Would we take the initiative to find out more about the needs of the Town of Raymond and how we as a faith community might fill them?  Would we ask just how we here in this church are making a difference in people’s lives?

         Presbyterian pastor John Lentz tells the amazing and true tale of Felix Baumgartner.  He is a man who jumped out of a capsule 24 miles above the surface of the earth. He free fell for close to 10 minutes going faster than the speed of sound. Then, he pulled the chord on his massive parachute and safely landed outside of Roswell, New Mexico.

         Lentz writes, “I don’t know why Felix Baumgartner would do such a thing. But I am glad that he didn’t pass out, that his parachute opened, and that he is alive. The possibility of death was, to him, not a deterrent and he jumped. He trusted that he could do it, and he did it.

         How would your life be different if you trusted that “nothing separates you (or anyone else) from the love of God as revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord”? “This good news, this gospel fires me up (Lentz writes) and makes me want to tell others that they are loved just as they are. I would hope that it would make me less judgmental, less condemning, more forgiving, more expectant and hopeful; certainly less fearful, or at least puts my fears in a larger context.”

         Does it fire you up too, or does it seem simply overwhelming?  If it is the latter, you are not alone.  Just as the Apostle Paul’s letters are overwhelming at times, so free falling into a new life – to live as if the Gospel really mattered – to live with justice flowing from your life’s actions like a great waterfall  - is likewise overwhelming.  However, let’s remember that we do not take this journey alone.  We walk together with like-minded people here in this church – and we walk with Jesus. 

         There was once a man who owned a small sawmill during the Great Depression of the 1930’s.  “He would haul saw logs to the mill on a bobtailed log truck. One rainy afternoon he was bringing a heavy load of logs on a slippery dirt road. The truck slid into the ditch and could not pull itself out.

         (He) walked a mile up the road to a farmhouse and asked the farmer if he would pull the truck out with his tractor. The farmer said, ‘I don’t have a tractor, but I have a very fine mule  - Old Blue.

         The man said, ‘I don’t think a mule can do the job. I have a heavy load of logs.’

         The farmer said, ‘You don’t know my mule, Blue.’

         With that, they hiked back to the truck and hitched up Blue. The man cracked his whip and said, ‘Come on, Blue!’

         Blue pulled but the truck did not move. He cracked the whip again and said, ‘Come on, Mack!’ The truck moved slightly.

         He cracked his whip again and shouted, ‘Come on, Maude!’ And the mule pulled the truck out of the ditch.

         The man thanked the farmer and said to him, ‘Let me ask you a question. Why did you call that mule by three different names?’

         And the farmer said, ‘Old Blue is blind, and if he had thought he was the only one pulling, your truck would still be in the ditch.’

         We are greatly empowered when we believe that someone else is pulling with us and for us. We need not go it alone. There is help – both human and divine.  We can be justice seekers and peacemakers.  We can live letting justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

         That being said - what can we do in this first week of our Lenten journey to encourage such justice to flow through our lives?  What can we do to ensure that those we encounter understand that they are God’s beloved ones – and that we affirm their belovedness?

         The United Methodist General Commission on Race and Religion has three suggestions.

We can seek to do no harm – by thinking before we speak and understanding a human tendency to judge others - often harshly or unfairly.

We can do good – by owning our thoughts and beliefs and using “I” statements and listening with a compassionate and curious heart especially when someone’s experience or beliefs are different from ours.

We can stay in love with God – by being faithful to our commitment to be Jesus’ 21^st century disciples.

         Kent M. Keith had similar thoughts in his book The Paradoxical Commandments: Finding Personal Meaning in a Crazy World.  He says:

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered:  Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives: Do good anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow:  Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable:  Be honest and frank anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs:  Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

People really need help, but may not thank you if you do help them:  Help people anyway.

         It may be that “in a world that seems obsessed with who is ‘right and wrong’, ‘good or bad,’ ‘in or out’ or on’ this side or that side,’ it is a radical endeavor to name each person as “Child of God”– no matter what people say. (Marcia McFee).  However, we have an opportunity this Lent to intentionally and as a church family embrace our own – and others – “belovedness.”  We have an opportunity to try out living lives of justice as the prophet Amos implored us.  We have an opportunity to see if, come Easter, we have conformed a bit more to the character of Jesus and perhaps have also experienced the deepest joy possible. 

          So - during these next 40 days of the Lenten season, I challenge you to reflect on how justice might roll down in your life.  I challenge you to affirm your belovedness as well as the belovedness of those you would consider unworthy of such love (Immigrants?  Refugees? Muslims?  Latinos?  LGBTQ folks?  It will different for each one of you.).  But most of all, I challenge you to experience firsthand how the prophet Amos’ words have the potential to transform your life.