Faith...and rest

If you can stick with it, Romans offers an interesting and rather intense description of what it means to have faith. Sure, the language is dense – and yes, we can struggle with some of the imagery – but the author is doing his best to urge us to faith and hope as we follow Jesus. It is an admirable goal. But at times, the message of Romans is derailed by the stark nature of the language. All this talk of suffering (for a cause) might raise some questions in us. The sharing in the glory of God seems to be linked to suffering in this particular instance. Boasting in both the shared glory AND the suffering that (somehow) leads us to hope…such an idea raises the possibility that suffering is required of the faithful soul. I’ll confess this sort of thinking has caused me more than a few doubtful moments – and led to some lively conversations.

 True – this is a letter offered to a suffering world from someone who is fully engaged in that suffering world – and true, the author is trying to explain how faith might help us navigate a world gone wrong…and if it brings you comfort to think that your misery will be redeemed by some magic formula – be my guest – but I need a little more.

Let’s remember that Paul (who is credited with the letter to the Romans) is working this out as he goes. A ‘magic formula’ is not his goal. He has been surprised by Jesus and converted to the cause of Christ by a very vivid vision. He spends the rest of his life trying to explain to others (and to himself) how this happened to him and why it makes a difference to us. But to understand this deep dive into the how and why of faith, we need to know more about the who – and the who for us (and for Paul) is Jesus.

The truth is, as much as the letter to the Romans might want to teach us, this treatise on faith in the cold, cruel world needs a little Jesus to help us make sense of this complex dance between faith and hope and suffering and glory.

And Jesus does not disappoint

Letters like this one – sent to what was a thriving community of faith a long way from Palestine – were never meant to be the only source of information. This correspondence that became Scripture was part of a supportive network. The words of Paul and Peter and John – the four (or more) different perspectives on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus – all these documents were meant to supplement the experiences of those who, like Paul, had been won over by the story of Jesus. This slowly emerging re-imagining of an ancient faith – that we now call Christianity – was full of new followers and new ideas. The letter to the Romans tries to fill just one of the many gaps in the story. And Jesus is the cornerstone of this new understanding. 

So, imagine that you have heard something about Jesus, but know little about the tradition from which he comes; Romans tries to paint a picture of a history of trust – a history of hope – the history of God’s faithfulness. It might all seem a little much. Especially if you are struggling with the nature of Roman rule, or is your religious curiosity has pushed you out of the mainstream of Roman religious observance. Hope in the face of suffering is all well and good. But how do you anchor that hope?

The circumstances of our struggles have certainly changed. But our questions about faithfulness and hope have not. And those questions can wear us down.

Who among us has not experienced the weariness that comes from navigating life in this complicated world? Do you know anyone who is NOT weighed down by the burdens they carry? Our compassion leaves us care-worn. Our love for our families and for the wider world is often hard work. This is the stuff of real life, and we are in the midst of it. And whatever Paul (or anyone else) might say about the benefits of faith, or the reward for our struggles, Jesus offers this gentle invitation: ‘come to me and rest.’

Rest does not get enough credit in the church or in the world. We are driven to succeed – to improve – to grow – to care – to act – to be better Christians. Our appeal in all these things is to faith. Have faith, we say. Good things will come. Be faithful, we read, and God will not forget you. So much of what we are trying to do seems to hang on our ability to grasp this very difficult concept. “Faith gives substance to our hopes” says the author of Hebrews, “and [faith] gives substance to the realities we do not see.” It all sounds quite lovely, but vague – defining faith is like trying to hold on to smoke. And if we’re not careful, our pursuit of faith will exhaust us. So much effort for something so hard to find…

Learn from me, says Jesus. Rest in me, says Jesus. He offers an easy yoke and a burden that won’t weigh us down. He provides a gentle example of genuine, personal interaction. Jesus demonstrates good relationships with the people he meets and with God, whom he trusts. Faith – that ephemeral thing – takes shape in the stories of Jesus meeting, healing, feeding, and blessing people.

In our current struggle to find faith – to be faithful – perhaps what’s missing is a little less ‘effort’ and a little more resting in Jesus. Hearing and telling his stories can give us a clue to what faith might look like. Jesus knew struggles and hardship. Jesus understood the weariness that can come from trying to keep (or find) the faith. And Jesus – gentle Jesus – lived that faith into being with simple conversations, with shared meals, with actions that healed the sick, and lifted up the oppressed. The ‘burden’ of faithfulness became the joyful discovery of grace and life. In Jesus’ presence, folks are made whole; they discover purpose; they find grace. Faith stands with them, and hope is revealed.

 

Maybe this is too much for us. Maybe it sounds like just a different ‘magic formula.’ But Jesus life and work – Jesus’ dying and rising – these give us a pattern of trusting and acting that leaves room for God to work. Jesus reminds us that it doesn’t all depend on us. And that is just the kind of rest we need.