Turning Back

A sermon preached with the people of Church of Our Saviour Episcopal in Akron, Ohio.

This morning we find Jesus and a crowd of disciples still gathered in Capernaum. And, things really come to a head.

Jesus has told them the Kingdom of Heaven is near. He has told them that God is bringing about a world so new it is beyond their greatest imagining. He has told them that they are to believe in him, and to follow his path of feeding, healing, visiting, sheltering, noticing and caring. He has told them that what he offers is nothing less than eternal life.

And, some of those gathered consider all of this, take a deep breath, and admit, “this teaching is difficult.”

And Jesus responds, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?”

Jesus knows it is visible signs the people are after. But God will not provide on-demand miracles. Because of course, hanging your belief on a magic trick is not the work of faith.

And so, many of those gathered turn back.

And sometimes this moment is described as a clean and permanent split between the believers who stayed and the non-believers who turned back. But I don’t think we have to understand it that way. Because even though they turn back, these people are still named as disciples. And let’s not forget every one of the twelve who stays this morning will turn back from Jesus at some point. And all but one will return to the fold.  

I have a feeling these disciples who turned back today simply needed time; time to think and ponder and talk and wonder and pray.

Friends, this has been a devastating week. A week that weighed on my heart as images and stories of human suffering in Haiti and Afghanistan flickered across my screen. Add to that the continuing surge of the Delta variant and an early fire season well underway in California – it is a lot to bear.

Jesus has told me the Kingdom of Heaven is near. He has told me that God is bringing about a world so new it is beyond my greatest imagining. He has told me that I am to believe in him, and to follow his path of feeding, healing, visiting, sheltering, noticing and caring. He has told me that what he offers is nothing less than eternal life.

And yet, this week, for me, this teaching is difficult.

This week, I was one of those disciples who wanted God to swoop in and perform a magic trick. To show me a sign. To make it all better.

This week, this coming Kingdom of God seemed improbable. Impossible, even.

This week, I felt too overwhelmed to respond to Jesus’s call to help in a hurting world.

This week, I turned back.

And I took time to think and ponder and talk and wonder and pray.

And eventually, I found strength from my fellow disciples — my church — to turn around and get back to the slow, small work of following Jesus, which is the only way we can respond to the overwhelming disasters of our time. Piece by piece, day by day.

In this way, I think the story in this morning’s Gospel hints at something of what church is for.

We as church are a beautiful, wacky and totally imperfect crowd of disciples, loving and celebrating and laughing and raging and crying together. And sometimes, some of us may need to turn back – for a moment or maybe for years. And the thing is, the rest of us can hold the faith for them, knowing that the roles may be reversed down the road.

As it was on the grass in Galilee and the synagogue in Capernaum so it is on this grass in Akron, and inside this Zoom room. We are a crowd of disciples, wrestling with an imperfect and sometimes painful world, and a faith in our God of love who promises that all will be made new.  

Nobody does this life of following Jesus alone. We do it in community. These are hard days. If you find yourself turning back on this path of faith, know that this too is the hard work of discipleship. And know that God is right here. And so are your fellow disciples, ready to carry the faith for you until you return, ready for the road ahead.