A Leap of Faith

Genesis 12: 1-2 & Matthew 4: 1-11

Roger Lynn

April 15, 2018

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Ten years ago this month I resigned from my position as Pastor at the United Church of Moscow. I took that step without having secured another job. And as a result I set my life on a new trajectory. I believe there is a clear connection between that decision and me becoming the Pastor at Plymouth Congregational Church. The choices we make matter. 

As I was reflecting on that time ten years ago I looked back at the sermon I preached on the Sunday following my announcement, and it occurred to me that it was worth sharing with you. It offers some insights into how important decisions can be made. And, more importantly, it offers a glimpse into why it is important to be bold and take a leap of faith. So, that having been said, I share with you now what I shared with the good folks in Moscow ten years ago.

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Upon hearing the news about my resignation, the most common first question has been “Why?” And the short answer is, “because I have a sense of being called to move on.” The not-so-short answer is far more complex and nuanced, ambiguous and hard to explain. If this were a Methodist congregation and I were a Methodist pastor, the answer might be relatively straightforward - because the Bishop told me it was time to move. But we are not a part of that system and so answering the “why” question is more challenging. I would like to try answering at least some of that question by sharing with you some of the process which led us to this point, and some of what making this choice means to us. I want to share this in the hope that in our experience you might see something of your own experiences of seeking to make faithful choices for your living.

Faithful - foolish. Trusting - gullible. Vision - delusion. Risk - dangerous. Which description fits? It’s always a fine line we walk when we seek to live faithfully, and perception is everything. Looking from the outside in, it is often impossible to gain a clear sense of whether the choice of a particular path is faithful or just plain crazy. What we see with our eyes and what we perceive with our hearts can be very different, and will sometimes lead us in very different directions. The path down which our hearts lead us is not always going to appear safe, or sensible, or even sane, when viewed from the perspective of rational, cultural expectations. I suspect that there were those who thought Abraham and Sarah were not behaving sensibly when they set off from Haran in search of some vaguely defined “promised land” to which God was somehow calling them. And when Jesus responded to the prompting of the Spirit to go spend some time in the wilderness – that dangerous place where normal, sane people simply did not go – there were probably people who thought he had taken leave of his senses. The simple truth is that seeking to follow God’s leading will not always make sense when viewed from the outside looking in. Indeed, there are times when it barely makes any sense even when you are the one doing the following. It is worth noting that the temptations Jesus experiences in the wilderness all center around issues of safety, security and control.

Any serious practice of prayer and discernment really ought to come with a warning label – “Warning: engaging in this practice may result in a life that will completely surprise you.” The story is told of a man who stepped off the edge of a cliff and managed to grab hold of a branch part way down. He couldn’t climb up and he couldn’t climb down. So he prayed. “God, I’m in trouble here. I could use some guidance.” And then, much to his surprise, God answered his prayer. “I see you are in a challenging predicament. Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help.” “Oh, thank you God! What do I need to do next?” “Let go!” The man thought about this for a moment and then said, “Is there someone else I can talk to?”

When it first came to me that I might be led to resign before I knew what came next I did my best to ignore it, dismiss it, argue against it. And I also recognized a certain compelling quality in the idea which seemed to resonate with me. After all, have I not spent my whole ministry preaching about stepping out on faith and trusting and risking and letting go of fear? 

But I get ahead of myself. This decision did not happen overnight. It is not something Veronica and I have come to lightly, casually, easily, or quickly. A great deal of time and energy have been spent in prayer, reflection, meditation, discernment and conversation. I’ve walked the labyrinth seeking God’s guidance. We have sought out the counsel and support of friends and spiritual guides. We’ve engaged in forty days of prayer together. In many and various ways we’ve listened intently for the leading of God’s Spirit. And slowly, sometimes painfully slowly, but surely, the guidance has come. 

The quest began when I became aware of a vague sense of being unsettled. Something needed my attention, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Eventually I came to realize that I’m tired. I need rest and rejuvenation for my soul. But there was more. I’ve been growing and changing. I find myself longing for new and different challenges in ministry, including creative colleague partners with whom to collaborate. Something new is calling me from just over the horizon. That much of the picture has been clear. What that something new looks like has remained persistently unclear. And so we continued to watch and wait and listen and pray. When is it time to stay and when is it time to move? How will we know?

Whenever we begin to feel overwhelmed and afraid, we hear part of an answer in the words of the Sufi poet Rumi, who wrote, “Move within, but do not move the way fear makes you move.” Another piece of the picture came just a bit more into focus with a quote we can no longer even identify - “Step onto the path and the path will appear.” I heard yet another piece of an answer in the famous quote from Helen Keller – “Life is a daring adventure, or nothing at all.” And then, two days ago, on Friday night, after this sermon was finished (or so I thought), I went to a concert by singer/songwriter Libby Roderick, and heard the rest of the Helen Keller quote. “Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” And after sharing that quote, Libby sang a song which included these words – 

“I’d rather be dancing at the edge of my grave.

I’d rather be holding you close as we march forward loving and brave.

I’d rather be singing in the face of my fear.

I’d rather be dancing in front of the guns as long as I’m here.

Life is so dangerous that there’s little to fear

Life is so possible, every breath a frontier.”

And as she sang, and I sang along, I heard another whisper of an answer. Part of the answer drifts across the years as I find myself drawn in a new way to the power of a scene from an old Indiana Jones movie which I have always, in some way, known was speaking to me. Jones has been following notes left by his father in a quest to find the Holy Grail. They lead him finally to the edge of a chasm, where the last remaining clue simply indicates that a leap of faith is required. And so he gathers up his courage, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and steps off the edge – where he finds a bridge which is hidden from view until you actually take that first step. Reading a book just a few days ago a phrase jumped out at us which seems to give shape to this whole adventure – “throwing caution to the wind.” Wind – breath – Ruach – Spirit. We are always and forever being invited to throw our caution, our fear, our worry, to the wind of God’s Spirit, and then allow the wind to carry them away – leaving us free to respond to God’s call in fresh new ways. We hear a hint of an answer in the lyrics of a song written by our friend Amy Martin in which she uses ravens as a metaphor for faithful living. “It’s feathers and faith meeting the grace of the invisible air. They just fling themselves wide open and jump into the sky. It’s a radical trust that gives us the freedom to fly.” Indeed, once we started looking, the themes of trust, faith, stepping out beyond the border of comfort, risk, “be not afraid” all seem to emerge from every direction and from a wide variety of sources. I begin to suspect a spiritual conspiracy of sorts.

Can I be absolutely certain that what we are hearing is the voice of God? Of course not. Am I confident that we have listened as carefully as we can, and are making the most faithful decision we know how to make in this moment? Absolutely. I am convinced that it is time to let go of what is in order to make room for what will be. It is time to step off the edge and try our wings. It is time to fly. And whatever comes next, I am absolutely certain of at least one thing. The God who has been with all of us this far will continue to be with all of us, come what may. “Be not afraid,” the angels say. Will you join us in choosing to trust in God’s abundant and gracious guidance? It’s time to fly!

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What I could not have known at the time I first preached this sermon ten years ago was where that leap of faith would ultimately lead me. Which is, of course, always true. But what I can say in this moment is that I would do it again in a heartbeat. Much that flowed from that decision turned out very differently than I might have imagined, but through it all I have been supported, and cared for, and held by the Spirit of God in ways that far exceed my capacity to describe. After all is said and done I can still say to you that listening to your heart and stepping out in faith is always worth it. Always! Amen.