Loving God, even when we feel as if you are not there, you continue to work for good for those who love you.  Teach us how to trust you and seek your will above all else; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

    James Taylor shares the following story in his book of devotions entitled An Everyday God.

    There was a kid in my high school called Joe.  He missed a lot of school because he kept having operations on his back for something.  But he kept his grades up and somehow managed to be one of our best athletes, too.
    I remember one school track meet.  Joe came flying down the cinder track, those long wiry legs reaching for every inch of lead, and won the 100-yard dash.  We all cheered for him.
    Only a few parents ever came out to those school track meets.  Most parents had to work on school days.  But Joe’s parents made a point of being there.  They came down out of the bleachers to congratulate him.  And to our surprise, they were crying.
    Only one year later, Joe was dead.  All those operations were for cancer of the spine.
    That’s why Joe’s parents cried.  Because they knew.
    I wonder now what kind of courage they needed the day Joe told them he was trying out for the school football team.  I wonder how they felt, watching his games, watching him swerve past one opponent, only to be smashed down by another’s spine-jarring tackle.  I can only guess.
    Years later, another father told me about his son’s inherited and incurable illness.  “Most of the pain isn’t giving up your child,” he said.  “It’s giving up your expectations for him.  You keep thinking what he could become.  So you try to protect him against everything, because of your hopes for his future.  It’s funny – until we accepted the fact that our son could die in spite of all our efforts, we couldn’t let him live.”
    Jesus said puzzling things like that too.  He talked about learning to live each day as if there were no tomorrow, about giving up your life so that you could have it.
    It makes more sense when I think of Joe.  He lived with his own death within him.  His parents gave up their expectations for his life, and just let him live today.
    One day, of course, there was no tomorrow.  But Joe had a lot of good todays.  And Joe had a lot of love.
    The rest of us at that school used to feel sorry for Joe.  “Poor Joe,” we thought.  
    We should have learned something from Joe and his parents.
(Taylor, An Everyday God: Insights from the Ordinary, 2005: Wood Lake Books, Kelowna, BC, pp. 166-167)

    Do you see what he’s getting at with learning from Joe and his parents?  They could have lived in fear that Joe would damage his health further.  They could have prevented him from playing football or running track in the hopes that perhaps he might live a little bit longer.  Instead, they all made the most of the time that they had.  That’s why Joe’s parents made a point of being there to watch his games or his track meets.  They were making the most of the time that they had.  They were allowing Joe to live his short life to the fullest.  “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?... So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.  Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Mt. 6:27, 34).

    I suspect that many people who hear these words of Jesus from today’s gospel add some great big “but’s” at the end.  But what about planning for the future?  But what about caring for things today so that there will still be life as we know it tomorrow?  But what about always being prepared?

    Scripturally speaking, these things are always to be done in concert with God’s plans for the future.  James writes:

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a town and spend a year there, doing business and making money.”  Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring.  What is your life?  For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.  Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this or that” (Jas. 4:13-15).

We can plan all we want.  However, ultimately the future is in God’s hands.

    At its core, the question that is being raised by today’s gospel is this: In what or whom do we place our trust?  Two options are given: God or mammon.  Mammon can be defined as wealth or money, but it is more than that.  Mammon is whatever we serve or trust.  According to Matthew 6, we either put our trust in God or in something else.  It is when our trust is in God that we have no reason to worry.

    Now, certainly we need all of the things that are mentioned in today’s gospel: food, clothing, drink.  Yet, when we seek God’s kingdom – God’s way – God’s will above all else, there is no cause for worry.  Ultimately, where God guides, God also provides!

    Of course, this is not to say that life will always be easy.  In fact, sometimes it might seem so difficult that we start to feel like God’s people were feeling at the time when Isaiah 49 was written.  They had come to feel as if God had totally abandoned them and forgotten them (Isa. 49:14).  And it is during this time of despair that Isaiah speaks God’s words of comfort to the people.  God says:

Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?  Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.  See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands (Isa. 49:15-16).

    Just like a lover, God has tattooed the names of his people on his hands.  Just like a loving mother, God can never forget or abandon God’s children.  Just like a loving father, God provides for the needs of God’s children.  This is the same God who has created us, redeemed us, and blessed us with the Holy Spirit.  “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?... So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.  Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Mt. 6:27, 34).  Amen.

Epiphany 8(A)                                Matthew 6:24-34
February 27, 2011                                Isaiah 49:8-16a
St. Luke’s Zion Lutheran Church
Pastor Lynne Hutchison

© 2011 Lynne Hutchison  All Rights Reserved