God Isn’t Done with Us Yet

I John 3:1-3

August 21, 2016

Mark S. Bollwinkel

            On the fourth of June 1783 in the market square of a French village named Annonay, not far from Paris, Joseph-Michel and Etienne Montgolfier took a giant first-step toward human flight.

            Tethered above a smoky bonfire was a huge cloth balloon, 33 feet in diameter.

“In the presence of a ‘respectable assembly and a great many other people’, and accompanied by great cheering, the [air machine] was cut from its moorings and set free to rise majestically into the moon tide sky.  Six thousand feet into the air it went and came to earth several miles away in a field, where it was attacked by pitchfork waving peasants and torn to pieces as an instrument of [the devil]” (Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, Ballentine Books, New York, 1986, pp. 133-137).

            Benjamin Franklin was one of the “respectable” observers there.  He was in France as Ambassador from the new American states.  He was asked what possible good this balloon experiment could be, and he replied, “What good is a newborn baby?”

            Later, he would write in his journal, “This balloon will open the skies to mankind” (Fulghum).  However prophetic those words were about the potential for human flight, his first remark described that potential best.

            “What good is a newborn baby?”

            Infants are totally dependent, utterly selfish, and completely rude as they burp and fill their pants whenever they please.  Babies cry when they want, wake their parents whenever they want and are exhausting to live with.

            Yet we put up with these inconveniences, gladly, because in holding that small creature, we hold all that is important and possible.  The baby will grow and learn and explore new things.  The baby, by nature, will never remain the same.  It is an instrument of change, of progress, and of new life.

            When Ben Franklin compared the first balloon to a newborn, he was not only talking about a technology that would revolutionize the world.   He was also pointing to a fundamental truth about human life.

            To be alive, means to grow and change and explore.

            To be alive, means to risk and learn.

            That is what babies do, along with spitting up and smiling.

            That’s what it means to be a child of God.

            It’s easy to forget that when you turn 40 and you’ve got bills, teenagers and careers for which to be responsible.  Change is threatening when people are counting on you.  Middle age is not a good time to rock the boat.  Rather it is a good time to buy a house, invest in stocks, and compliment the boss.

            It is easy to forget that being a child of God involves risk when you’re 60 years old.  You’ve got to plan for retirement.  You might face your first surgery or see your kids divorce.  Some of your dreams have come true.  Some have been broken.  Now are the years when you are supposed to enjoy the “dues” you’ve paid.  We don’t think of 60 as an age to change, so much as an age to hold on to what you’ve got.

            It is easy to forget that being alive is all about growth when you are 80.   When many of the ones you loved are already gone.  It hurts just to get up in the morning. Routine becomes crucial.  Simplicity becomes a requirement.  Existence is risky enough without having to consider learning new things, making new relationships.

            A reporter was interviewing an old man who was celebrating his 100^th birthday.  “What are you most proud of?” he asked.  “Well,” said the man, “I’ve lived 100 years and haven’t an enemy in the world.”  “What a beautiful thought.  How truly inspirational,” commented the reporter.  “Yep,” added the centenarian, “I’ve outlived every last one of those SOBs!” (Sons of Bums)

            Of course, it is possible to live a long and healthy life and never get the point of being alive.  In fact, the quality of our living has got little to do with the number of years on our driver’s license.

            John Gardner, former Chairperson of Common Cause, gave a speech in which he described the plateau many people discover in middle age.  “So you scramble and sweat and climb to reach what you thought was the goal.  And when you get to the top, you stand up and look around and chances are you feel a little empty.  Maybe more than a little empty.  You wonder whether you climbed the wrong mountain” (“Oasis”, March 1976).

            People 35-45 often describe their lives with the sudden feeling of, “Well, it that all there is?!”  It can be pretty depressing.  It wasn’t the goal itself that was so exciting as much as “the getting there”.

            At 100 years of age, Grandma Moses was painting.

            At 92, George Bernard Shaw wrote another play.

            At 89, Albert Schweitzer headed a hospital in Africa.

            At 80, George Burns won his first Academy Award.

            When he was 90, Pablo Casals, the renowned cellist, was asked, “Why do you still practice so many hours a day?”  To which he responded, “Because I think I am improving!”

            It is not the number of years that determines the quality of our living so much as our commitment to grow and learn and risk.

            In our scripture lesson this morning, John writes to his small church in a time of great difficulty and trial.   They are being persecuted by Jewish authorities and the Romans for their faith in Jesus.  The stress under which they live divides them by anger and fear.

            The apostle writes one of the most beautiful and profound letters of early church history, in which he describes love, forgiveness and the peace available to us in Jesus Christ.

            He also reminds them that they are “children of God”, encouraging words to a church living in a hostel world; “Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be…”  John is talking about their hope in the coming of Jesus at the End of History.  Till then, we who are faithful are to remember that God loves us and is forming us into the people God intends us to be.

            John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist Movement, talked about Sanctifying Grace; the nurturing love which God bestows upon us after we have made our commitment for God, forming us into the people we are meant to be.

            This sanctification is a never-ending process in the life of the believer, as each and every day, each and every challenge, success or failure, is used by God as an opportunity for us to grow.

            In each decision we make at work or at home, in each conversation with friend or customer, God is actively present, seeking to lure us to the best for us and for others.

            Sanctifying love is formative and challenging.  Sometimes tough, sometimes limiting, that love is always there and will not let us go.

            The Christian life is one committed to continual growth and change, one trusting God’s working and testing and nurturing in our lives.  Regardless of age, success or comfort, we are the ones for whom “it does not yet appear what we shall be…”

            Larry Walter might illustrate the point.  He could be considered a lunatic or a hero.  He might have been both.

            Walter was a truck driver.  He would sit in his lawn chair in his backyard in Los Angeles and wish that he could fly.  The time, money, education and opportunity for Larry to be a pilot just never came.  So he spent a lot of summer afternoons sitting in his backyard in his ordinary old aluminum lawn chair, just like the ones we all have in our backyards, dreaming about flying.

            In 1986, when he was 33 years old, Larry Walters hooked to his aluminum lawn chair, 45 helium-filled surplus weather balloons.  He strapped on a parachute [good idea!].  He carried with him a CB radio, a six-pack of beer, some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches [bad combination!] and a BB gun to pop some of the balloons when it came time to come down.

            He thought he would go up a couple of hundred feet over his neighborhood.  Rather, when he let go of the ropes, he shot up to 11,000 feet, right through the approach corridor to the Los Angeles International airport.

            You can only imagine what the pilot of the Sheriff’s Helicopter must have thought when he found a man with a BB gun, hovering in a lawn chair at 11,000 feet!

            When he came down outside of San Bernardino, Larry was arrested and paid a big fine.

            When asked by a reporter why he did it, he said, “You can’t just sit there and dream.”  When asked if he was scared, he answered, “Wonderfully so.”  When asked if he would do it again, he said, “Nope.”  And asked if he was glad that he did it, he grinned from ear to tear and said, “Oh, yes!” (Fulghum, pp. 138-140) 

            I would not recommend that anyone ever try such a thing ever again.  But the spirit of the event was inspiring.

            These are anxious times.  Threats of international terrorism, gun violence in our communities and the most bizarre election cycle in recent memory have most of us on edge.  The media exploit our worries and daily blow things out of proportion while ignoring real human suffering and potential here and around the world. 

            Our personal lives may face illness, economic and/or relationship stress.   Don’t beat yourself if you find these times confusing.  There is a lot to be confused about to be sure!

            As difficult and painful as life can be, even in crisis, new opportunities open possibilities for us to grow and prosper, especially in our relationship to God.

            We will only be defeated if we stop dreaming, if we stop growing, if we stop learning new things.  Regardless of our chronological age the quality of our living is determined ultimately by our capacity for hope. 

            As General Douglas McArthur once put it, “You are as young as your faith, you are as old as your doubt.  You are as young as your confidence, as old as your fear.  You are as young as your hope, as old as your despair.”

            God who is not distant but present in our lives actively seeks to guide us on the way.  If convinced that we have become all that we ever will be, whether convinced by failure or physical limitations or heartbreak, remember this, we are children of God.  

And God is not done with us yet.

            Amen.