Praying Through Clenched Teeth

I want you to reflect back on your life. I want you to come up with a face. Maybe it's your own face, maybe it's the face of a friend or relative. Here's the expression I want you to remember seeing on that face bitterness (x2) Can you remember a face where you saw that feeling? Can you imagine a face where that is the emotion plainly written all over it? Do you see a face? I see a face

I see the face of a farmer on the prairies, riding a mortgaged tractor, burning gasoline purchased on credit, moving across his land, but it's really owned by the bank, knowing the harvest, even if it's good one, will not be enough to pay the bills. Bitter.

Do you see a face? I see the face of a man 49 years old. He's always worked for the same company - he's even in the twenty-five year club. He's got a nice home, two beautiful children. But now the plant is closing down, and he knows he's too young to retire, and besides he can't afford it. And he knows he's going to lose out on every job he applies for, to someone twenty years younger. Bitter.

Do you see a face? I see the face of a young couple. They seem to be about nineteen. They're standing in the airport terminal, holding hands so tightly, their knuckles are white. She's pregnant; he's dressed in military fatigues. They're not talking, just standing and looking at each other. The ticket in his hand reads Gander, Newfoundland. And the stop after that is the Middle East. He slowly moves toward the gate ... she stands there alone. Bitter.

Do you see a face? I see the face of a man who runs a small grocery store. His father ran the store in that neighbourhood for 30 years, and he is now in his twelfth year there. The little shop doesn't make much profit, but it keeps the family together. It's a business. There are no customers in the store now, and the grocer stands in the doorway with his apron rolled up around his waist, looking across the street where workmen are completing a supermarket. Bitter.

Will you look at one other face? His name is Saul, Saul of Tarsus. We call him the Apostle Paul. He was young and intelligent, committed to the traditions of his fathers, strong and zealous for his nation and for his religion, outstripping, he says, all of his classmates in his zeal for his people.

While he pursues his own convictions, there develops within the bosom of Judaism a new group called Nazarenes, followers of Jesus. At first they seemed to pose no threat, after all, Judaism has long been liberal and tolerated within her house of faith a number of groups such as Pharisees and Sadducees, Essenes and Zealots, so why not Nazarenes? As long as they continue in the temple and in the synagogue, there's no problem.

But before long, among these new Christians a different sound is heard. Some of the young radicals are beginning to say, "Christianity is not just for the Jews, but for anyone who believes in Jesus Christ."

That’s what Stephen and Philip and others started to preach: "It doesn't really matter if your background is Jewish, as long as you trust in God and believe in Jesus Christ."

And this ridiculous statement reaches the ears of young Saul. "What do they mean it doesn't matter? Of course it matters! It is all that matters! No young radical can stand up and say thousands of years of mistreatment and exile and burden, of trying to be true to God, of struggling to be his people and keep the candle of faith burning in a dark and pagan world, means nothing. What does he mean, it doesn't matter to be enslaved and spat upon, and to be made fun of because you're different? Of course it matters! We are God's children in a world of fear and blackness ... It means everything!

Imagine yourself as the only child of your parents, but when you're seventeen years old, they adopt a seventeen year old brother for you. When you're both eighteen, your father says at breakfast one morning: "I have just had the lawyer draw up the papers. I'm leaving the family business to our "two" sons." How do you feel? "This other fellow just got here. He's not really a true son. Where was he when I was mowing the lawn, cleaning my room, trying to pass the ninth grade, and being refused the car on Friday nights? And now that I'm eighteen, I suddenly have this brother out of nowhere, and he is to share equally?"

How would you feel? Would you be saying, "Isn't my father generous?"

Not likely!

Then imagine how the young Saul feels. Generations and generations and generations of being the people of God, and now someone in the name of Jesus of Nazareth gets this strange opinion that it doesn't matter anymore, that Jews and Gentiles are alike. You must sense how Saul feels.

All your family and national traditions, all that you have ever known and believed, now erased completely from the board? Every moment in school, every belief held dear, every job toward which your life is pointed, now meaningless? Everything that grandfather and father and now you believed … gone?

Of course, he resolves to stop it. The dark cloud of his bitterness forms a tornado funnel over that weak, little church, and he strikes it, seeking to end it! In the name of his fathers, in the name of his country, in the name of God! ... it must be stopped!

Now, why does he do this? Why is he so bitter at this announcement of the universal embrace of all people in the name of God?

Do you know what I believe? I believe he is bitter and disturbed because Saul is at war with himself. And anyone at war with himself will make casualties even out of friends and loved ones.

He is himself uncertain, and like a wounded and frightened animal, trapped, he lashes out at those closest to him, until he lies face down in the sand near the Road to Damascus, waiting to hear the words of the God whom he believes he serves.

But all along, Paul knew he served a God who loves the whole of creation. Saul has read his Bible. God looked down upon creation, and behold, it was very good.

He had read the book of Jonah and knew of the love God felt for those people whom Jonah wanted to see destroyed.

Paul has read the Book of Isaiah and the wonderful vision of the House of God into which all nations flow. It's in his Bible.

Then what's the problem?

His problem is the same problem you and I have sometimes faced. It's one thing to know something in your head. It's another thing to know something in your heart. The longest journey we ever make is from the head, "I know!", to the heart, "I know ..."

But until we make that journey we are in pain, because what we feel in our hearts clashes with what we know in our heads. We might even lash out at others.

Listen to some typical conflicts between head and heart:

I know gay people are no different than straight people, but I don't want them in my church.

I know my children don't owe me a living and I should be happy to see them independent and strong, but I want to rock them asleep once again and be like God to them.

I know that death comes, and we must accept the loss of our loved ones in this world, but I feel I can't live without this person.

I know I serve a God who loves all God’s children around the world, but I don’t know how God could love this one ...

Do you know anyone bitter like this - bitter that what they're fighting is right or inevitably true? Do you know anyone lashing out in criticism and hatred and violence against a person, or against a group that represents the humane and caring and Christian way? If you do, how do you respond? Hopefully we do not react to bitterness with bitterness. I hope we've learned that's a futile endeavour, just as you can't fight prejudice with prejudice. So how do we respond? How do we break down the wall of anger and bitterness? How do we help people move from the head "I know", to the heart, "I know …

Let me tell you a story ...

A family is out for a drive on a Sunday afternoon. It’s a pleasant afternoon, and they relax at a leisurely pace down the highway. Suddenly the two children begin to beat their father on the back: "Daddy, Daddy, stop the car! Stop the car! There's a kitten back there on the side of the road!"

The father says, "So there's a kitten on the side of the road. We're having a drive."

"But daddy, you have to stop and pick it up."

"I don't have to stop and pick it up."

"But daddy, if you don't, it will die."

"Well, then it will have to die. We don't have room for another animal. We have a zoo already at the house. No more animals."

"But daddy, are you going to just let it die?"

"Be quiet, children; we're trying to have a pleasant drive."

"We never thought our daddy would be so mean and cruel as to let a kitten die."

Finally the mother turns to her husband and says, "Dear, you’ll have to stop."

He turns the car around, returns to the spot and pulls off to the side of the road. "You kids stay in the car. I'll see about it."

He goes out to pick up the little kitten. The poor creature is just skin and bones, sore-eyed, and full of fleas; but when he reaches down to pick it up, with its last bit of energy the kitten bristles, baring tooth and claw. Hissst! Smack! It scratches him on the back of the hand. Cursing, he picks up the kitten by the scruff of the neck, brings it over to the car and says, "Don't touch it; it's probably got leprosy."

Back home they go. When they get to the house the children give the kitten several baths, about a gallon of warm milk, and begin to beg: "Can we let it stay in the house just tonight? Tomorrow we'll fix a place in the garage."

The father says, "Sure, take my bedroom; the whole house is already a zoo." They fix a comfortable bed, fit for a king. Several weeks pass.

Then one day the father walks in, feels something rub against his leg, looks down, and there is a cat.

He reaches down toward the cat, carefully checking to see that no one is watching. When the cat sees his hand, it does not bare its claws and hiss; instead, it arches its back to receive a caress.

Is that the same cat? Is that the same cat? No! It's not the same as that frightened, hurt, hissing kitten on the side of the road. Of course not. And you know as well as I what makes the difference.

Not too long ago, God reached out the divine hand to bless me, as God blesses all God’s children. When God did, I looked at that hand – God’s hand - it was covered with scratches.

God’s hand was covered in scratches …

Such is the hand of love, extended to those who are bitter.