Sunday, October 8 - Worth it

This sermon was preached for Sunday, October 8 at St. Mark's, East Longmeadow, MA. The texts for this sermon were: Psalm 19, Philippians 3:4b-14, and Matthew 21:33-46.

A thirty-year old married woman asked the internet at large a question many, many other people her age have been asking lately. “I need someone to tell me if having kids is worth it… Is the loss of sleep, is the loss of identity, is giving up your body, is it worth it?” 

On her podcast, “Tales She Told Me,” writer Farrah Haidar said she returned again and again to that woman’s question, “Is it worth it?” before deciding that it is the wrong question for someone contemplating parenthood. “Parenthood is not about what you get,” she says, “parenthood is about what you give.” She points out that no one can answer the question about whether it’s worth it because you have so, so little control over what happens in parenthood. You have no clue what kind of kid you’re going to get - and that’s just for starters. The whole thing is a journey of surrendering control over enormous parts of yourself - including your body and your identity - with absolutely no guarantee and no say in what comes back to you. The joy that matters is not the joy that comes from the getting (that’s just a bonus). The joy that matters is the joy you’ll feel in the giving - all that giving. So don’t ask if it’s worth it, Farrah ends, “ask if you’re up for giving that much of yourself.”

“Is the loss of sleep, is the loss of identity, is giving up your body, is it worth it?” That question grabbed a hold of me, too, in part because  it’s one that friends my age have asked me in confidence about parenting, now that I am in it. But it’s also one I’ve been asked (or asked myself) about church, and about being religious, and trying to live in community, and my job. Is this all worth it?

Is following Christ worth it? This is the unspoken question several of our New Testament Epistles attempt to answer, too. And you know, they land in the same place that Farrah did. 

“Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ,” Paul writes in his letter to the church in Philippi. "More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him.” 

Evangelism would feel a whole lot more honest if that’s where we started from: This journey of faith you are on, this following Jesus and living in Christian community, it will not be about what you get. It will be about what you give. 

Paul wrote this letter to thank the community for their financial support of his ministry. He’s also very aware that the church is facing and will face tremendous suffering on account of their faith and commitment to Jesus. He wants them to understand that stepping on the path of Christ is stepping into a world where the calculus about cost and benefit is fundamentally different. The trappings of life the world values will become worthless to them. Loss - loss of identity, loss of status, even loss of life - will become, for them, a gain because it will all be for Christ. The giving itself, the self-emptying, if done in faith, if done for love, becomes how we are filled, again and again, to the brim. 

I’m grateful to live in a moment where people show up to church because they choose to be here, rather than because it’s what everyone is doing. I’m proud to be part of a generation who very intentionally considers whether parenthood or marriage is right for them before diving in simply because it’s what’s done. I want people to have that freedom. I love that women and men are more and more empowered to say, “hey, this seems like a rotten deal, this isn’t what I’m meant for,” especially if they’re also bravely saying, “I’m going to construct a new way of living.”

At the same time, I do agree that the question, is this worth it? is sometimes not quite the right one. Ask that about everything and you’ll miss out on the sort of stuff that falls outside any rational cost-benefit analysis. Focusing on the joy and meaning of giving is essential to really living any of those parts of life we call “priceless” - everything that requires us to face uncertainty, rely on other people, and give ourselves away. All those parts of life that are not about what you get, but instead about what and how you give. That is to say, the parts of life that involve faith, hope, and love. And loss. Sometimes it is only later, perhaps even a whole lifetime later, that you can fully appreciate that all that so-called loss, all that giving, is precisely what gave you more than you could have ever calculated ahead of time. 

When I think about the most fulfilled, self-actualized, whole-hearted people I know, they aren’t the ones who have optimized how to get the most out of every experience, or who have perfected the cost-benefit analysis approach to life. They are the people who have figured out how to give of themselves again and again, in ways that fill and sustain them. They are, in fact, many of you. 

This past week, our stewardship team asked you about moments in your life when giving feels like a gift. You wrote, “When I volunteer for an event - I always come away feeling uplifted by being with people.” “When I pledge more than I think I can because it reminds me that all I have comes from God.” “Reaching out to friends and neighbors over the years as a listener embraces my heart and warms my soul.”

Stewardship is the time in the church year we set aside to think more intentionally about giving. It’s when we decide and share how we plan to contribute in the next year, not just financially, but of all our gifts: our skills, our time, our emotional energy, our resources, our presence. The exercise is not about sitting down and thinking, what’s all this worth to me? Does this amount reflect what I get out of being part of this church? Reflecting on the spiritual journey of stewardship is instead about contemplating the act of giving itself. What can I give of myself that will transform me? What can I give that will require and engage my faith? 

There is such a thing as giving too little - an amount that’s barely a blip on your radar, that doesn’t impact your life at all, that doesn’t ask you to risk or grow or venture out of your comfort zone. There is such a thing as too much - an amount of time and money and energy that no longer feels joyful, that slides you away from gratitude and into stress and resentment and exhaustion. There is also an amount - this will change over the course of a lifetime, in this season or that one - there is a level of contribution and giving of self that increases your faith, connects you deeper to these people and this place and God, that empties and fills you up all at once. Figuring that amount out is a spiritual practice that takes skill and feedback and sometimes a lifetime to learn. You don’t have to figure it out on your own.

The other day I was visiting with someone, a relative of a parishioner. After I anointed and prayed over them, they thanked me profusely for what I had given them: for my presence, my time, my prayers. “No, no,” I wanted to say. “Thank you!” It was a gift to me to get to be with them, to get to use these priestly skills I’ve spent so long learning, to feel the Holy Spirit course through me. I’m so lucky this is my job. I’m so lucky you all let me do it. And I believe that every single person in this room has gifts like that - gifts that are a joy to give. Gifts like listening, and showing up, singing and mowing, financial contributions and professional skills, crafting and childcare - pieces of you that long to be expressed and developed. Gifts that God gave you to give away.  

My prayer is that these next few weeks will help each of you discover or re-discover or re-engage with ways of giving that feel like a gift to you. I hope you find a way to contribute that on the surface might appear to be a loss to others - a loss of free time, or money, or even identity - but that you know to be a gain. 

Moments when you and God smile and say to one another, no, no, thank you.