Last
Sunday, I introduced a five-part sermon series on work. Today, I’d like us to
think about a particular aspect of work that came up again and again in the
conversations I’ve had as I’ve spent time with some of you, and that is frustration. Frustration at not being
able to do as much as you would like to do, to serve and to bless others
through your work – often because of a bureaucratic burden in addition to your
primary focus, or as a result of the cutting of funds or some other resource.
And perhaps a frustration that what you do is not really understood, its value
is not appreciated by others.
One
of Jesus’ closest friends wrote an account of their friendship, and today we’ve
read the excerpt where Matthew recalls their first significant meeting. It took
place at Matthew’s place of work.
Matthew
was a tax collector. Now, the people were living under a puppet-king, who
raised taxes, who sat under the patronage of the Roman Emperor, who also raised
taxes. It is likely that Matthew was one of the tax collectors for the local
ruler rather than the imperial occupiers; but nonetheless, tax collectors were
hated. Everyone knew that tax collectors took a cut for themselves – just like
everyone knows that all politicians are liars, or that teachers work short days
and have long holidays but still complain about their work conditions. I’m
suspicious of things that ‘everyone knows’, but there we are …
Jesus
takes the time to notice him. Not as a tax collector but as a person. And then
Jesus makes him an intriguing offer: ‘Follow me.’
Where
is Jesus going? To eat a meal. To share
bread, from which we get the word companion.
With other people like Matthew. People that respectable people worked hard not
to notice. Only, now they can’t help but notice, and they demand to know what
is going on.
One
of the big ideas in the Bible is that of being a sinner. It is such a big idea
that it is explored – that attempts are made to express it – in many different
ways. There is wilful rebellion against God, certainly; but it is much bigger
than that. A big part of it has to do with falling short of a target – of our
own target as much as God’s. One time, Paul writes of his utter frustration at
not being able to do the good things he desires to do, and cries out, who will
set me free from this body of death? – thanks be to God, who has done something
about it, sending Jesus!
And
while the Bible speaks of how God transforms us so that we are drawn less and
less to that wilful rebellion, there is a really positive sense to being a sinner. We see it in that short story
Matthew recounts for us. It is the recognition that we are not self-sufficient,
the recognition that we cannot do what we are called upon to do in our own
strength. And it is those who recognise themselves as sinners who are open to
that encounter with Jesus. Those who believe that they are doing just fine have
no need for him. The Pharisees had learnt only to see sin in negative terms,
and so it was hard for them to receive grace.
Like
the other Gospel writers, Matthew took all the stories he might have told about
Jesus and thought about which ones to include, and which ones he would have to
leave out, and what order to put them down in. They aren’t strictly
chronological. And he records the time Jesus invited him to supper right in the
middle of a collection of accounts of Jesus healing people and restoring them
to their loved ones, to their community. Indeed, Jesus even uses the analogy of
a doctor here. You see, the grace of being recognised and of being blessed with
companionship is a healing, albeit not a physical one.
We
are sinners, and – whether people recognise that description of themselves or
not – that is the only kind of person there is. We will always have that
frustration of not being able to do all that we would like to do to serve and
to bless others through our work. We know what it is like to have 10 things to
do today and only manage to get 8, or 6, or sometimes 3 of them done … and for
the back-log to accumulate so that we fall further and further behind. We know
what it is like to get it all done, only for someone else to add number 11 to
the list. But when we own our sinfulness, we also get to be saints: friends of
Jesus, companions at the table, experiencing rest from our labour, experiencing
the recreation that empowers us to work well and to God’s glory.
Frustration,
and grace. May the one bring us to the other.
I’m
going to invite Richard up now, and interview him about his experience of work.
[Here followed a short interview with Richard Davison.]
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