Third Sunday after Trinity 2023

 

I have been sitting with this verse over the past week:

‘Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.’

Jesus (Matthew 10:39)

It seems to me that this verse is key to understanding the gift of life, the purpose of life, and the redemption of life.

Life, here, is the vital breath. That gift both given to you, and that you are to the world; a gift never given before, or again. The God who created the universe, who holds all of time and space, did not want a universe that you were not part of.

The first invitation of life is to find your life, to discover the unique nature of the gift you have been given. This takes time, learning, searching. Trial and error. Having a go. Missteps, and retracing our steps.

We discover that we are good at cricket. Or that we are terrible at cricket, but good at playing the cello. One member of our congregation found something of his life crawling through potholes. Not for me. We are all unique.

Perhaps we get married. Perhaps we have children. Perhaps we are the first person in our family to go to university or join the army and see the world. Perhaps we move from one workplace to another.

It is tempting to think that the invitation to find our life is an invitation for youth, but no. If you are still alive, life is still holding out that invitation. Indeed, it is essential, for life to be renewed, just as the seasons and cycles of nature renew the earth. It is never too late to discover a love for something new, something life-giving, revealing, or sustaining. The invitation to find life is not time-limited (indeed, I have a hunch we will carry on finding our life for all eternity). But the things we find are time limited.

If to find means to learn or discover, especially after searching, to lose means to utterly destroy. And this, too, is part of the experience of life. A time to search and find, and a time to lose; a time to be born and a time to die. Both/and. Neither one without the other.

Everything we find, we shall lose. Perhaps all of our peers have married, and we are not married. Perhaps all our peers have children, and we have not had children. Or we have had a child with profound medical needs. Or we had a child who died. Perhaps we went for a promotion or another job and didn’t get it. Perhaps we were good at sport, but injury forced us to stop playing. Perhaps we have retired, and who are we now, without the structure and status of work? Perhaps our children have left the nest. Perhaps we have been widowed. The life we had, or the life we had hoped to have, utterly destroyed.

Just yesterday someone said to me, ‘Life can feel very unfair at times.’ And I suppose that it can. Though I wonder whether our sense of un/fairness is skewed, towards those we know personally, or by a sense of entitlement, or by God’s refusal to conform to our expectations of what a god should be and do. In any case, I know it to be true that the more firmly we try to grasp what we can never hold on to, the more pain we inflict upon ourselves, and others.

Jesus says, those who lose their life for my sake shall find it. What does that mean? ‘For Jesus’ sake’ means that we set Jesus as the end of our life, not the means to some other end. Not the ticket to heaven so we can be reunited with our family. Not the escape from fear of hell. Not the guarantee that God will spare us the suffering common to all life. Not the means to any other end. Jesus, the all-in-all, with us and for us, sharing our joys and our sorrows.

Jesus meets us where we are. This is good news for those who are finding their life, because finding your life is difficult. It takes effort, commitment to searching. Steps, missteps, repentance (turning around, retracing steps, trying again) and forgiveness (of ourselves, of others). Finding life can be hard work, and sometimes it is tempting to give up, to settle for less, for existing but not living, to breathing but not the vital breath. But Jesus draws near, and in his presence there is healing, rest, a lifting of those burdens that can be lifted and a sharing of those burdens that cannot. In his presence there is power to keep going, and someone to share the joy with.

And this is good news for those who are losing their life, too, which is all of us. Jesus does not shy away from suffering but embraces our humanity—and in so doing saves us from our inhumanity—drawing us to God and neighbour, so we can say, with the apostle Paul, ‘I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ (Romans 8:38)

Where are you finding your life today? Take a moment to give thanks, and share the joy, with Jesus.

Where are you losing life today? Take courage. Bring your fears to Jesus, and love will rescue you, bring you to well-being. Glory follows suffering, resurrection life follows the surrendering of our life. Those who lose their life for Jesus’ sake will find it.