Great Is Your Faithfulness

Great Is Your Faithfulness
Luke 17:5-10; 2 Timothy 2:1-14; Lamentations 1:1-6, 3:19-26

(A Conversation with Jesus)

“Increase our faith.”

That would be nice, Lord. I desperately want to believe in you. People keep telling me that’s what I need to do, just trust and obey, just believe.

So, Jesus, increase my faith. Give me faith, a lot of faith. Here, fill my wheelbarrow full of faith. Please, Lord. . . .

What’s that, you say? I don’t need a wheelbarrow to be filled with faith. . . .

Oh, yes, I do, Lord. I need a lot of faith. This world’s a mean place. There’s chemical weapons in Syria. There’s car bombings in Baghdad, murders in Chicago, a ferry boat capsizing off Sicily. There are meth labs all over the county. They’ve raised the speed limit between Chillicothe and Columbus. The Indians didn’t make it into the division championship. The leaves are falling, snow’s a-coming. I need a ton of faith. . . .

No wheelbarrow load of faith. . . .

Jesus, what’s a person going to do? No one wants to join the church club any more. No one wants to sing the old songs, no one wants to do Gregorian chant any more. No one wants to wear coats and ties or gloves and floral trimmed hats. No one wants to say what their faith means to them. No one wants to think about community. They just want to think about themselves. If they’re not the center of the world, just forget it. Lord, it takes a lot faith deal with that. Jesus, increase my faith; fill this wheelbarrow with it. . . .

No wheelbarrow. . . .

All right, all right. I’ll ditch the wheelbarrow. . . .

I’ve got this bucket. Will you fill my bucket with faith? If I use it sparingly, it might last me. I know I’m not going to live forever, but I’ve still got some time left. I might be able to make it through with a bucket of faith. Please, Lord, just a bucketful? . . .

No bucket. . . .

Jesus, don’t abandon me like this. I’ve got to have some faith to work with, Lord. Why can’t I have a bucketful?

If I can’t have a bucketful, how about a jarful? I promise I won’t waste it. I’ll use it only in emergencies. You know, like when the sky is falling, or an asteroid is heading for the earth, or when I’ve got no one else to turn to. The problem is — I hate to admit it, Lord — there are lots of those times. It will be hard to decide which one or two to put the faith into. I’ll have to keep saving it for some worse time than there is at the moment. It might go unused. I can keep it safe, Jesus. I could always seal the lid with duct tape.  Make it a computer password. I can never remember them; I’d never get in. . . .

No jar. . . .

What to do you mean, no jar? Lord, I’m helpless here. I’ve got to have some faith. It’s like that extra hundred dollars I keep in the checking account in case I subtract wrong. Please, Jesus, just a little faith.

Here’s a thimble. How about a thimbleful? I don’t think that would be enough for any one occasion. But maybe I could use it like the cross people hold up to ward off vampires. Yes, Lord, how about a thimbleful of faith? I could wear it around my neck right next to my lucky rabbit’s foot. . . .

No thimble. . . .

Lord, don’t you love me? Don’t you care for me. I’m all alone here, Lord. Don’t you care that I’m dying here, Jesus? What happened? Did I get put into a standup comic’s worst nightmare by mistake? Surely you could spare a little faith for me? . . .

Oh, you will. . . .

Thank you. . . .

A mustard seed’s worth. . . .

Faith the size of a lousy mustard seed! “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?” Sorry, Lord, I know that’s not funny. But nothing’s making sense to me. I asked you nicely for some faith and all I get is a mustard seed. A mustard seed to combat all the evil in the world and to wage peace; a mustard seed to feed the hungry and cure diseases; a mustard seed to stop stupidity and arrogance; a mustard seed to proclaim your name; a mustard seed to see me through the dark nights of the soul. Just how long do you think that mustard seed is going to last? It wouldn’t last, even if I had a whole pickle jar full of mustard seeds. . . .

No pickle jar. . . .

Not even kosher dills? . . .

Oh, it’s not about the container. . . .

I don’t need a container. . . .

I already have a container. . . .

I do? . . .

How tall am I? . . .

What’s that got to do with anything? 5' 10". . . .

What do I weigh? . . .

Hey, I thought you knew everything there was to know about me? 168 lbs. . . .

Fat. . . .

You’re getting personal now. That’s between me and my doctor. . . .

I’m the container. . . .

You mean, like, “I’m a little teapot, short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout”? I’m about ready to spout, Jesus. . . .

All right. I’ll listen. This better be simple. My brain is woozy. . . .

Why don’t I need a wheelbarrow or a bucket or a jar or even a thimble for faith? . . .

I asked you first. I don’t know. Why? . . .

Faith can’t be kept in material containers. . . .

The next thing you’re going to tell me is that I can’t get faith. . . .

I’m right. . . .

What do you mean, I’m right? Why can’t I get faith? Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about? . . .

There’s a difference between getting faith and having faith. . . .

Oh Lord, not another grammar teacher. I’m sorry, Jesus, I didn’t mean to take grammar teachers in vain. I’ll pay attention. . . .

Faith doesn’t come off shelf in a church supermarket. . . .

So, I shouldn’t bother going to Cokesbury? Is that what you’re saying? . . .

Okay, if I don’t get it somewhere, how can I have it? . . .

I already have it. . . .

What do you mean, I already have it? . . .

Faith is already in me. It’s part of God’s image implanted in me. It’s activated by the Spirit. It has the potential to fill my being, fill my whole life. . . .

How does that work? . . .

Faith is not what we see, but how we see. Faith is how we respond to what we see around us. A life empty of faith looks at the world and sees a hopeless, unredeemable mess. Little faith doesn’t see any God activity. On the other hand, a life filled with faith sees the same mess, but instead of hopelessness, it sees potential, opportunity, God at work. . . .

Oh, just like in the bulbs I need to plant this month. There will be a flower next spring.

So, you are telling me, Lord, that I already have faith in me. Okay. But you are also telling me that I have to let it grow, that I have to stop bottling it up. How so?  . . .

If I repress the faith that is in me, I am like a clog in the pipeline of faith that spans generations past and future. . . .

It’s true. I have learned a lot about you, Lord, from people who had a lot more life experience than I did at the time. I can think of quite a few church mothers and grandmothers, church fathers and grandfathers, church aunts and uncles. You are right. They didn’t have containers of faith, but they did look at the world faithfully. . . .

So you want me to recognize the faith that I have, and to let it flow forward like the faith of people who came before me. . . .

Even in this messy, devastated world which is being eroded by floods, storms, and other natural disasters? Even when a more devastating erosion is caused by politicians who don't have a clue as to the sorts of lives so many of their constituents live? Even when this world is anything but pretty? . . .

Oh. Not “even when” but “because.” . . .

Sorry. Why “because”? . . .

Because God’s faithfulness to us is great, renewed every morning, strengthened every evening. God has put faith in each of us to let this faith flow through each of us. . . .

Lord, forgive me about the wheelbarrow and the bucket and the jar and the thimble. And the crack about the Grey Poupon.

All I need is right here, this table of set before me. This bread, this cup. This life-giving, life-affirming table of Christ. This remembering.

Thank you, Lord.

Amen.

Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com 
Copyright 2013 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.