Pentecost 2009

Romans 8:22-27
We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.


On my count of 3, take a deep breath and hold it in for 3 seconds; then let it out slowly in the form of a sigh.

Again, on my count of 3, take in a deeper breath and hold it for 3 seconds; then let it out slowly in the form of a deeper sigh.

And a third time, on my count of 3, take in an even deeper breath and hold it for 3 seconds; then let it out slowly in the form of an even deeper sigh.

Now, are we all ready for our mid-morning nap? Do you feel calmer than you did 5 minutes ago? Is your mind clear? Are you more aware of what and who surrounds you, both what you can see and what you can sense?

Many Sundays when you arrive here, I have prepared for you what I hope is a sermon that makes you think about something a little differently than you had before or, perhaps, about something you’ve never before considered. Sometimes I feel a prophetic sort of call to share with you a word from God about how we should be living our faithful lives. Today, however, I’d like to share a pastoral word with you on loan from the apostle Paul.

It’s the end of spring and the beginning of summer. I don’t care what the calendar tells us; the first day of June is the default first day of summer. Children and youth are out of school now. Vacations are beginning. Gas prices are up. It’s starting to get hot outside, at least on the afternoons that it is not raining. And summer rain is here. All the signs are pointing to life slowing down and a few lazy days by the pool or in the shade.

Only there are those of us who no longer can see those kind of days on our calendars. While it is so much easier to hope for things that we are sure of or that we do know, many of us are left hoping for things we can’t see, don’t know, don’t really have any reason to actually believe will come to be. There are those of us suffering from diseases like cancer: even with the best treatments available, hope seems far, far away sometimes. There are those of us suffering from depression: even with medication and counseling and people around who really care, there just doesn’t always seem like there is a way out of the darkness. There are those of us who feel trapped by our life circumstances: a marriage that doesn’t work anymore; estranged relationships with children, parents, or friends; the complete inability to find a job even though you’ve been looking for years; the fear of losing your care, home, livelihood, or dignity the longer you look for work. Even with prayer there just doesn’t always seem like there is any reason to hope that things will get better. There are those among us facing death: the death of a loved one or even our own. And all the verses of scripture we can quote to each other or find for each other that talk about the resurrected life cannot ease the anxiety and pain we feel at the idea of an “end.”

No matter what breaks your heart today or causes you to feel desperate, we all know the feeling Paul is describing in the 8th chapter of Romans. The whole world groans in the pains of making new life. It hurts being made into something new. And that is often what is happening when we feel the pains of life setting in. When we are fighting disease or depression, when we are looking for a new vocation or career, when we are trying to find a way to let go of a loved one or of some way of life to which we’ve become attached, sometimes we are going through the pain of being made into something new—some kind of new creation. We may not always welcome change, but that’s what human being is about.

Several years ago, I sat with a family who was facing the loss of their husband and father to brain cancer. Steve’s cancer had set in quickly, and he was young. Not even 55, he started receiving radiation treatments for a brain tumor that quickly spread to his spine. When there was no more treatment and his body began to quickly deteriorate, the family had to make a decision about hospice care. They couldn’t agree on what to do, but Steve made his wishes clear, and it was not long until his body was unable to continue life. I gathered with the family around his bed as we felt that his last breath was close at hand. While I value the training I received in pastoral care at Candler, no book, role play, class discussion, or exam can prepare you for the moment of death until you have experienced it. When we all joined hands around the hospital bed, I suddenly felt the weight of the moment and the expectations of the family members standing with me. And so our prayer began: “O God, we don’t know the words to pray right now, but we need your presence among us and your hand upon your servant, Steve…” It was in the moments of prayer that we all uttered deep sighs, hoping for God to come and calm our spirits and ease the suffering of one whom we loved. Our weakness was the pain of impatiently waiting for God to “show up” (as *they* say) and do something in Steve’s body. The Spirit’s presence arrived for us in our sighs, too deep for words, to close to see, but interceding for us and bringing us the peace of Christ in our time of need.

Friends, no matter what troubles your heart today, no matter what it is that you don’t have the words for, that you dare not share in public, that you don’t even begin to know how to deal with, the Spirit is already there with you, praying for you and with you in sighs too deep for words. Think of it: that incredibly calming feeling of releasing tension through a deep sigh. That’s the presence of the Spirit.

Generations ago, people gathered from all over the known Jewish dispersed world. They came together for the holy day of Pentecost: the Festival of Weeks. It was the festival in which people brought the first fruits of their harvest to the Temple. It was also the remembrance of Moses receiving the commandments at Mt. Sinai. It was one of those big days in which everyone knew that their place, no matter what, was in the presence of all the others offering tithes and prayers of thanksgiving to God. They came no matter what. They came when their loves ones were dying. They came when there was hardly any fruit to consume, much less to give away. They came when their children were estranged, when they were angry with God, when they were worried about how they were going to make it. They came, and the prayed, especially when they didn’t have the words because the Spirit provided what they needed to hear: the story of God’s deeds of power that had taken place in the lives of the people—people just like them.

Friends, don’t leave here today without letting a deep sigh of prayer out and breathing in the Spirit of God. There are deeds of power to be done in your life, and when you don’t even know how to talk to God about your needs, that is when the gift of the Spirit—in words that may be unknown to you now but will become for you the most sacred utterance between you and God. The miracle of Pentecost was not in the speaking but in the hearing of God’s story, your story when you expected the status quo.

May that be for you, friends. When you cannot speak with God, may the Spirit allow you to hear from God, reminding you of what God has, can, and will do in your life. May it be.