Sermon: Overcoming Inertia

          Inertia is the resistance, of any physical object, to any change in its velocity. This includes changes to the object's speed, or direction of motion.  So you've probably heard that an object at rest will stay at rest without the action of an outside force.  This also includes the tendency of objects to keep moving in a straight line at a constant speed, when no forces are upon them.

          So why are you getting a science lesson in church this morning, despite knowing that your priest's sister is brilliant?  Because Christ told a parable of a fig tree that Luke was the only one to recount among the Gospels.

          In history, as I've mentioned before, the fig tree is a metaphor for the spiritual condition of Israel, and more specifically, the Jewish people.  The thing is, when Christ came and made a new covenant, the fig tree also became a metaphor for all mankind.  And this particular parable about a fig tree in its last year of life is designed to bring a sense of urgency, a need for a change in inertia.  The gardener in this instance, is the catalyst for change.

          Here, we have two things to think about.  First, we need to figure out how to imitate that gardener.  And second, we need to tend to our own garden.

          I had thought to list those who had died in terror attacks just in 2019, but just in the month of March, there have been 132 attacks across the world.  In just the last week, there were 35 attacks in 17 countries with 304 dead and 175 wounded.  That's one week of just terrorist attacks.  The figures on violence and crime against one another are so commonplace that they rarely make the news, but go into a database to be produced once a year and people can develop crime statistics so that we can determine where we can afford to live and find the lowest crime rate.  We have become numb to the pain, death and misery around us.  And like the fig tree, we might say a little prayer that God watch over the survivors and tend to those on their way to Him, and we go on about our day.  At some point, God is going to say, enough!  Chop it down.  And right now, today, Christ is saying, fine, you tend to that tree for a year, but if the inertia remains the same, it's out of time.

          Now, the first part of the Gospel today is that on the one hand, we're being told that all human beings are sinners who will perish unless they repent. On the other hand, accidents and tragedies are not punishments for sin.  They are, however, warnings that we're running out of time. 

          In this season of Lent, we do tend to focus on repentance, but what does that mean?  Go to confession, get absolution and go on your merry way?  Not so much.  Christ was always very clear when He spoke to those who had sinned.  "Go and sin no more" was the general instruction from Him.  So, not only do we need to confess – those things that we've done and those that we've left undone – but we need to make a change, to go and sin no more.  Without that change, there is no repentance. 

          So let's look at the first part – how do we imitate the gardener, become our own catalyst for change?  We have all the inspiration available to us, but what does it take to actually make something change? 

          I read a really cool story this week about Sadie, the Prayer Dog.  Every student who enters Perkins School of Theology takes a year-long Spiritual Formation Class. These are groups of 6 to 10 students who meet every Thursday afternoon for 9 months and study the disciplines of Christian prayer and then practice them all week. Each group has a faculty member who volunteers to work with them.

          Several years ago there was a student named David. David was a seminary student in his late 20s working as a social worker and attending Perkins part-time. Over Christmas break each member of the class chose a book of the Bible and pledged to spend 15 minutes a day reading through it out loud and then praying about its connection to their lives. They were to report back to one another when the spring semester began in January.

          David chose the Gospel of John. His wife, a banker, went out of town for 2 weeks to Austin to visit family and to work with some clients, leaving David home with Sadie, the couple's 2-year-old English beagle. David decided this was a good time to start his prayer routine. So after work, he'd come home, eat dinner, feed and walk Sadie, do paperwork, and watch the news. Then at 10:30 p.m., he'd click off the TV and move to the loveseat where there was better light for reading. He would open the Bible to the Gospel of John and read aloud the passage for that day and then pray quietly from 10:30 to 11:00 every night. Sadie decided that if there was some spiritual growth going on, she was not going to be left out. And she got into the habit of curling up on the other end of the loveseat during the nightly proceedings.

          When David's wife came home after her trip, he was very glad to have her back. But the routine was less rigid with another person at home. One night David forgot and didn't turn off the TV at 10:30. Sadie came and nudged his legs, pulled on his trouser leg—like Lassie used to do to Timmy's dad when Timmy was trapped in the abandoned mine again. Sadie pulled on his pants as if to say, "You're on the wrong couch. Come over here. Turn off the TV. It's time to pray!"

          Another night, David was exhausted and decided to go to bed before 10:30. Except that it's hard to go to sleep when there's an irate beagle pacing up and down beside your bed and pulling at your covers.

          There are many different kinds of dogs, bred for different functions. There are sheep dogs bred to herd sheep. There are guard dogs bred to guard premises. There are seeing-eye dogs trained to lead people through life. But I didn't know, until I heard about Sadie, that there was such a thing as a prayer dog. This brief parable about the importance of bearing fruit serves as our prayer dog.

          We often start off Lent with the best of intentions, cutting out some favored thing, substituting time with God in some fashion, hopefully improving our spiritual life in the meantime.  But we generally don't count on an accountability partner like Sadie, physically dragging us into the habit that we caused her to develop. 

          We do, however, have the voice of the Holy Spirit.  We just often decide not to listen, and with that decision, we allow more and more "friction" to interfere, until we are again at rest, experiencing our own inertia. 

          The thing is, until we correct the state of our own garden, we really can't become gardeners for other fig trees.  We have every tool available to us – God provides us guidance; Christ is always willing to listen to your heart – not to mention providing appropriate parables; the Holy Spirit will always be there to cheer you on, chew you out and hold you accountable.  We've also got other Christians around us, also trying to clean up their own garden, and might be hopeful for an accountability partner. 

          We don't know when we will hit the last year, when we run out of time, but we do know that if we don't start, today, the inertia keeps us still, or moving along the same path that leads nowhere.  We can't help feed the fig tree until we're able to produce our own fruit.

          Let us pray:  Jesus said resolutely, “I am the vine. You are the branches. Apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). We could live with that more easily if He had said, “Apart from me you can do some things, but connected to me you can do more things.” It is humbling each day to ask for daily bread. It is humbling to have to pray each day for wisdom, guidance, grace, mercy, and peace. We do know that we can't pray up for a week and then coast.  But each day, I humbly acknowledge:  Father, I am a sinner in need of mercy. I am a created being, and you are the Creator. I am utterly dependent on your grace today for every breath I take, every beat of my heart, and every material need. Help me to overcome my own inertia that I may become the gardener others need.  In Jesus' name, we pray.  Amen.