Imagine having to
wander into a new town or city where you don’t know anyone, and you need to
find someone who will trust you enough to welcome you into their home? And the only thing you possess is the idea
that God is coming to set things right.
The only skill you have is the ability to say, "God is getting ready to
surprise you!" How would that fly in Fort
McMurray today, or Athabasca, or Smith or Wandering River or Boyle?
Probably better in the
smaller places than in the larger ones.
Wandering into the local burger bar might be easier to strike up
conversation than at a casino or hotel bar.
Travelers would have to step carefully, not knowing what the local hot
button topic might be. Should we buy Taber corn or should we boycott it? Was it the women’s shelter or the homeless
shelter that shut down in Lac La Biche? And so on.
The challenge of connecting
has become difficult. Even the disciples
would have a hard time finding people open to new ideas, new understandings, new
opportunities. Since Covid, it seems
like we are locked into polarized attitudes.
Even walking into a Dairy Queen for a chocolate dipped cone may end up in
a stressful debate about politics, healthcare or human rights. It’s heartbreaking.
Abraham was not
interested in having a fight with total strangers over the dangers of
vaccination, or whatever the equivalent of his time would have been. One of his core values, his spiritual
practice, was practicing radical hospitality.
Hospitality that was generous even while struggling to survive in the
wilderness. Generosity that was
radically compassionate, dignified, and respectful. Generosity that was so kind that his guests
gave him and Sarah a special blessing.
The blessing of a child. A blessing
that seemed so ridiculous that Sarah laughed.
The longing for a child
can become debilitating. Abraham and
Sarah were beyond desperate. They had
tried, they had grieved, they had hoped and they had given up on hope. Sarah had even given her servant Hagar to
Abraham to have a baby with. And to hear
these strangers promise her long-buried dreams would be fulfilled would have
seemed like salt poured onto a wound. Her
childlessness would not have been only a matter of infertility, it would have
been a personal and spiritual failure of epic proportions. To this couple who had fled the big city life
to start a family in a tent in the wilderness, the dream of a new way of life
of deep spirituality and bold discipleship would have been centered on having
future generations. The pressure on
Sarah would have been both part of her culture and part of her understanding of
herself as a woman. No wonder she
laughed.
Laughter is
surprisingly healing. It can come when
we least expect it, and it can soften angry hearts in ways that debates, logic,
facts and opinions fail to do. Patch
Adams, made famous by the movie starring Robin Williams, discovered how much
more effective he was when he made his patients laugh. They healed faster, and the hospital became a
much more pleasant place to work. Laughter
can shift our brain chemistry and help with the healing process. Our brains are mysterious and complex
things. Who knows how the experience of
laughter changed Sarah, but it did. It
so changed her that she named her son “Laughter”.
When we are struggling,
when we feel there is no hope and no future, when we see the divisiveness in
the world, when we don’t know where to turn, it’s easy to laugh off the idea
that there may be hope coming just around the corner. A baby coming to a childless couple, a
heavenly leadership plan coming to the world, they may seem laughable. Yet the reign of Heaven surprises us when we
least expect it.
We have been waiting
for the reign of Heaven to surprise us for a long time. In many ways we need it more than ever
before. As the conversation around
separatism gets more intense, it may be overwhelming for some. The rise of racism, sexism and homophobia
online is scary. It can leave us feeling
paralyzed and terrified. But we are also able to find surprises when we
entertain angels unawares. Surprises
like the kind hospitality of a nomadic city slicker living in a tent with no
hope for the future, who serves their best food to unexpected strangers.
One person that surprised
many is Romaine
Patterson, who made angels costumes with wings seven feet high and wore them in
front of protestors from Westboro Baptist Church so Matthew Sheperd’s family
couldn’t see them. She went on to become
an advocate and public speaker.
Another story of surprise is of grassroots organizations like Ofewa, a group of
a dozen people meeting in a country where same sex relationships are
illegal. They got together under a tree
to talk about what they could do to build a safer future in a dangerous
country. They built a coalition of
more than a dozen organizations—some focused on intersex rights, some on media
representation, some on legal support. They quietly meet with police officers,
judges, lawyers, anyone who will listen, to influence change. There’s Rev. Will Campbell who was a white Baptist minister
and strategist for Martin Luther King Jr. He was asked to share his views on
capital punishment at a public debate. The majority of people there believed
that the death penalty was the only way to build a civilized country. They were surprised into silence when
Campbell said that he was against Capital Punishment “because it’s tacky.” The
moderator asked Campbell several times to explain himself, and he eventually
said, “Hell, everyone knows what tacky means.” And that ended the debate.
What if we said
something surprising, like “I think that arguing is unCanadian.” And get back
to that common understanding of Canadians as kind, welcoming and compassionate
people. People who hope to build a land
of peace and hospitality. People who
follow in the footsteps of Abraham and the disciples, nurturing hospitality,
generosity and kindness. Let’s surprise
the world with love and generosity and watch how God surprises us!
