When plans fail

RCL Year B, Proper 11 Life is what happens when you’re making other plans. Or, in another way of putting it: if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. That seems to be the gist of what we hear in today’s readings. In the first, David is seized with the brilliant and […]

RCL Year B, Proper 11

Life is what happens when you’re making other plans. Or, in another way of putting it: if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

That seems to be the gist of what we hear in today’s readings. In the first, David is seized with the brilliant and laudable idea that now is the time to build a temple for worshiping God. But God says no. In the gospel, Jesus takes his disciples off for a long-overdue sabbatical. But the crowds find them – break time is over. In both stories, good, reasonable decisions get turned on their heads by equally good, reasonable arguments to the contrary. You think it’s hard to find a plan and stick to it? If folks in the Bible have this problem, no wonder it’s hard to keep ourselves on track.

In the Old Testament story, David is perfectly right to think that it’s time to get Israelite worship more established. The pilgrim people have found a home – they are in the Promised Land, Jerusalem is built, they have a proper king and that king has a proper palace. The ark has been brought into the holy city. Now is the logical time to build a temple. David’s trusted prophet Nathan agrees. But God does not, and makes his feelings known to Nathan – happily, before David starts his building project. ‘I never asked for a house,’ God says. ‘It’s not your job to build me a house. In fact, I’m building you a house, raising up your offspring after you to be king for ever. That king will build me a house, but as for you, forget about it.’ Oh, says David. I just thought…well, never mind.

In the gospel, Jesus and the disciples are perfectly right to think it’s time for a break. They can’t go anywhere without the crowds of people thronging around them. Jesus has been doing nothing but preaching and healing, and his disciples are run ragged with crowd control. They haven’t even had a chance to eat. Everyone knows you need to eat and rest if you’re going to keep serving others – it’s the whole essence of self-care. You can’t care for others if you’re run down yourself. So they go to do just that…but here they all come again. And Jesus is seized with such compassion for the people that he gets up and starts teaching and healing all over again. Never mind about taking that rest. The disciples are exhausted, and in next week’s reading we’ll hear them grumble about that. But there’s need to be met, and for Jesus, that takes priority.

So what’s the message here? Build up the church and offer glorious worship? No, focus on being faithful and prayerful, and let God take the lead. Take a sabbath rest and recharge yourself? No, serve the needy and poor who are all around you. Makes you wonder just which direction we’re meant to be heading in. It’s no wonder these arguments have remained unresolved in the church throughout the ages – no wonder councils of the church are such complicated things. Our church’s General Convention just ended last week, and though there were some clear stands taken on certain issues, it’s hard to say in other ways just what decisions did get made. The grumbling is rampant. All that time and they can’t even decide what to do about the church headquarters in New York. All that time talking about restructuring the church and they end up naming a committee to look into it. And as one conservative columnist and many other pundits objected, all that time pandering to trendy liberal ideas and no clear path forward for a dying church. C’mon, people, we need a plan!

Maybe you’ve seen this happen in your own lives too. We just returned from a long, long road trip with our two small children. It’s a ridiculous idea, a road trip with two small children. To that brew we threw in family members and ailing parents. We tossed in a week of camp that began the trip, with transitions of power and unclear lines of authority and responsibility. We added a liberal dose of serious injury when Frances burned her hands. And to round it off well, we sprinkled in exhaustion and a fever, and a small case of eye infection. Ta-da, the American family vacation.

But we did everything right beforehand. We packed our bags well and didn’t forget a thing. We bought the snacks we needed. We had maps and rain jackets. We had a relaxed agenda and low expectations. We’d figured out the logistics and we had motel reservations. But the morning of the departure day, our daughter had a fever. Would we go? Would we wait? We debated. We decided, and went anyway. Four days later, the accident at the campfire and the trip to the ER. Would we come back home? Would we finish out the camp? Would we take the trip anyway? We debated. We decided, and went anyway. And things kept changing. Never mind the motel – we stayed at someone’s house. Never mind the visit with my brother and his wife – they had to catch a flight. Never mind the weekend with friends – our kids were just too tired. Never mind my vow never to stay more than 3 days as guests – we ended up spending a week. My home parish was having a picnic instead of church the day we wanted to go. And so on.

So instead, we had a long, relaxed visit with my parents, who were very gracious about us upending their home and routines. We had an incredible experience of being cared for by a whole camp full of people when Frances had her accident. We had quiet mornings and time to run and play when we otherwise would have been pushed out by motel checkout times. We had an extra day to explore Seattle in the rain. We had a trip full of memories, returning home with two kids who grew up a lot in the time away, with deepened love and affection for our larger family and a clearer sense of how to care for them in the months ahead. We had a trip we didn’t expect, but it was good. And even though I didn’t like everything that happened, I found I was immensely grateful to God at the end of it all. We had other plans, but all of this happened instead. And it was ok in the end.

And likewise, while the pundits blather on and the national church committees struggle, churches like ours just keep doing ministry. We talk about a strategic plan and a mission and all of those things, but we also just care for the needs that come along. We fix the roof. We make meals for someone who’s sick. We welcome new members and say goodbye to others. We get some rest in the summertime and go all out other times. We host a gathering for our neighborhood to talk about crime and safety. We look for other ways to help. Do we have a plan? Sure, more or less. We have a vision of things we want to see happen here. But we also know that God will show us what God needs us to do next, if we listen. If we let God’s voice speak and be heard, we will see what we should be doing. Maybe it will mean we grow our church, and maybe it won’t. But it will mean we do what God wants for us instead of what we want for us.

David has a great idea about the temple, but when God says otherwise, he listens. Jesus is a good leader with his friends in pulling them aside to rest, but when faced with people’s need for his shepherding, he does that instead. Of course, the temple does eventually get built – by Solomon, not by David. Jesus’ disciples do eventually get to eat – with 5000 people instead of just by themselves. The things that need to happen do happen, but they happen on God’s terms and in God’s timing.

The path ahead for all of us may not be a very straight one. Seen from the outside, it might look like we wander all over the place, with no obvious direction. The plan we make today may well change tomorrow. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t plan, nor does it mean we shouldn’t start walking. But it does mean that whatever plan we start with, we should carry lightly. When we walk, we should keep listening, moving and yet waiting to see where God would have us go next. It’s ok to let God interrupt us. It’s ok to be moved by the Spirit. God knows where we are even if we don’t. Our job is to keep listening and looking to see where God might be next. And to go that way instead.