Half Truths Series

"Half Truths: God Won't Give You More Than You Can Handle"

Matthew 26:36-39

Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” He took with him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and began to be grieved and agitated. Then he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.”


“God won’t give you more than you can handle.”

Our next theme in this Lenten series is one of those you can imagine stitched onto a throw pillow, or found on a magnet at the Christian bookstore, or on a horrible poster like this…right?

Hang in there.jpg

But with today’s “Half Truth” on my mind last week, without even trying, I stumbled upon the story of a little two-year-old boy named William Roberts who wandered away from his family’s backyard and was found, 12 hours later, drowned, in creek near his home. It happened right in southern Indiana, in or around the little town of Borden, just this past January 22nd. Last Wednesday, March 8th, William’s father was in a car accident while he was driving his other six-year-old son, Ayden, to school. Just 9 weeks after the first tragedy, the same family lost another child. Six-year-old Ayden was pronounced dead, too, shortly after the crash.

“God won’t give you more than you can handle,” right?

And while the tragedy of the Roberts family is rare, that kind of deep sadness and struggle isn’t unique. We’ve all heard about the girls from Delphi. Many of us have been following and praying for Brody Stephens and his family. Yesterday we grieved the loss of Phil Jacoby, who died much too soon. It’s all relative, right? This can’t be about measuring the weight or the depth of one person’s burden against someone else’s. Life isn’t a CrossFit competition to see who can carry or bear or survive the greatest sorrow and still find faith – which is one thing that seems to be implied by the sentiment, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” Like when one stress follows another; when one sorrow piles up on top of another; we’re supposed to just breathe deep, suck it up, and power through the heavy lifting.

“God won’t give you more than you can handle.” Yeah right.

Such a platitude is not only – at the very least – “half true” as our series implies, but it’s also impotent, incomprehensible, and downright insensitive, if you’ve ever heard it in the midst of real, deep grief or surprising shock and stress.

Among so many other things, these Lenten days – this walk to the cross, this journey of ashes and sacrifice and crucifixion and dying – remind us that we are a people not immune to or shielded from hardship or suffering or struggle in our lives.

To the contrary, as we make our way to Calvary in these days – and in the face of well-meaning, but lame half-truths like “God won’t give you more than you can handle” – it’s worth being reminded that we are a people who claim what we call a Theology of the Cross, as a cornerstone of our theology. It’s a Lutheran spin, you might say, on what it means to do CrossFit as an exercise of faith, to take up the cross and follow Jesus. (See what I did there? Cross Fit, get it?)

To put it simply, the cross dares to remind us that sometimes life does give us more than we can handle. (Not God, mind you…God doesn’t give us pain and suffering…but the hardships that come our way are no more and no less than part of life on the planet.) And sometimes it’s too much. Sometimes it’s unfair. Sometimes it just is, more than we can or should have to handle on our own. And it’s okay to say that. I mean, Jesus himself – God’s only Son…God’s own self – was killed… utterly, completely, dead…signed, sealed and delivered into the hands of death and despair and oblivion. It was too much for Jesus – at least once – right?

So, think, if you can, about some of the hardest, most vulnerable, sad and scary times of your life… Think of some of your deepest, darkest struggles… Think about some of the greatest loss you’ve known... Most of us have had moments that were – or felt like – more than we could handle. Maybe we’re in the midst of one of those moments, even now.

When I consider all of that… When I think about that poor family down in southern Indiana, the ones who lost their little boys, whose home has likely gone from one extreme of loud and laughing, hopeful and happy life in every sense of the word, to the other extreme of quiet and confused, darkness and despair, the likes of which I hope I’ll never know, I imagine Jesus in that moment in the garden, “Father, if it be your will, let this cup pass from me.” Even more, I think of Jesus on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” “Dear God, take this away…this sadness, this suffering, this darkness, this despair.” “It’s more than I can handle… it’s more than I can bear… it’s more than anyone should have to endure.”

But I think that’s precisely why the stories of Jesus’ suffering come our way. We’re reminded that God gets it. That even God knows what it’s like to lose a child. That God, in Jesus, knows what it’s like to feel lost, forsaken, out of luck and out of options. That Jesus came for this. Not to get us out of trouble at every turn, but to get into our trouble with us no matter what. To remind us that even our deepest pain, our greatest struggle, our darkest despair – that even death – won’t win the day.

That, yes, sometimes we do get more than we can handle, but that it doesn’t come from God. What comes from God is the victory – the empty tomb, the new life, the second chance. What comes from God is the love we know in Jesus; the love that conquers death; the love that shows up in the fellowship of believers who stand with us in our suffering; the love that endures and abides; the love that never ends.

Sometimes we do get more than we can handle. But – thanks be to God – we never get more than God can handle – on our behalf – through the death and resurrection; through the life- and love-everlasting that is ours in Jesus Christ.

Amen

"Half Truths: God Helps Those Who Help Themselves"

Mark 2:1-12

When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. 

Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” 

Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, “Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Stand up and take your mat and walk’? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he said to the paralytic—“I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.” And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!”


Of the many half-truths commonly associated with the Christian scriptures, few get me a riled up as the phrase, “God helps those who help themselves.” It’s not that the sentiment is false (I’d actually call it a “3/4 truth” instead of a “half truth”); the problem is that this phrase is usually employed as a way to justify our judgment and condemnation of people whom we deem as unworthy of our help.

“God helps those who help themselves” is a philosophy that too-often sidesteps the importance of grace and gives us a false illusion of our role in the world.

This phrase is conditional; as in, if you do something and then earn something equal in response. For example, “If you eat your vegetables, then you can have dessert.” Christians ought to be careful in employing “if…then” conditional philosophies, because our God is not an “if…then” God. 

Instead, God is an “I am” God. 

God has always been and will always be the prime mover and the creator. God’s blessings are eternal and not dependent on our moral righteousness. There is nothing you or I can do to earn God’s love, forgiveness, blessing, or help. Likewise, there is nothing you or I can do to make God’s promises of love, forgiveness, blessing, and help invalid. We are sinners whom God loves dearly and freely forgives despite our not deserving forgiveness. This is grace – a bedrock of our faith and religious life.

We sidestep grace when we think that our decisions or actions are the basis for God’s corresponding response. This understanding prioritizes human initiative over God’s. As though we are in the driver’s seat. As though God withholds blessings until we earn them through making good, just, and correct decisions. It is as heretical to believe that we earn the blessings we receive as it is to believe that others deserve a lack of blessing. The beautiful truth is that grace is the first and last word, and we are privileged to live in its midst.

My primary theological issue with the phrase “God helps those who help themselves” is that it leaves little room for the foundational and radical truth of grace. My primary practical issue with this phrase is that it shifts responsibility away from ourselves and solely onto the shoulders of the person who needs help–shoulders that simply cannot bear that burden. 

It is true that we ultimately cannot make decisions on behalf of someone who needs help. For example, we cannot overcome someone else’s addiction for them. But everything up to that point is our shared communal responsibility. We, in community, bear responsibility to be present, to love, to persist, to forgive, and to be in relationship with those who need help, regardless of whether we thing they’re doing enough to deserve help.

I am reminded of an experience I had while serving as a hospital chaplain during seminary. One day a fellow student found himself in an argument with our supervisor over the role of a hospital chaplain (or any Christ-follower, for that matter). My colleague spoke about his frustration with a patient who didn’t seem to want to be healed. Our supervisor angrily told him he had no business judging the patient’s desire for healing or lack thereof. 

Our supervisor proceeded to describe the chaplain’s role using an analogy of a pit. If someone is in a pit of despair or hopelessness, the chaplain’s role is not to stand safely at the precipice and lower a rope and command the person to get out (nor to judge the person if they didn’t grab onto the rope); but rather, the chaplain is to get down in the pit and be present with the person who is suffering. 

We can never truly judge what motivates someone who is suffering. Our response is to be an unconditional, honest, supportive, non-anxious presence for people who are suffering. We strive to be empathetic and present, but we are not that suffering person’s savior and it is not for us to determine how or when someone makes it out of the pit.

Too often, we stand at the precipice of pits where people are suffering and yell down judgments like, “Do you even want to get better” or “You brought this on yourself” or “God helps those who help themselves.” These sentiments may come from honest and well-intentioned hearts, but they won’t make a bit of difference unless they are spoken from a place of vulnerability and empathy with the one who is suffering. Unless we first listen, we cannot understand what people believe about themselves and their worthiness or ability to be helped.

Joining people in their suffering is hard holy work; which is why it is never to be undertaken alone. This work requires a community of support and a network of relationship. Today’s gospel tells the story of four people who bring a paralyzed man to Jesus by lowering him through the roof into the home where Jesus is staying. The gospel story makes no mention of the paralyzed man’s desire for healing or why he was paralyzed in the first place. All we know is that there was a group of people who desired so deeply for the man to be healed by Jesus that they went to extraordinary measures to make that possible. We do not go to such great lengths unless we truly empathize with, and love, the person who is suffering.

Contrast that story with this one: Earlier this week Federal Judge Sarah Evans Barker spoke to a gathering of Indianapolis-area Lutheran clergy. She informed us that the overwhelming majority of people who appear before her in federal court for sentencing have no one show up in the gallery to support them. One could draw the conclusion, then, that the majority of people convicted of committing crimes are not connected to a community that empathizes with, and loves, them. The fact that every corner of our society is pushing further and further toward isolation and individualization will have disastrous consequences. The world needs empathetic, loving community now more than ever.

Imagine a community that doesn’t judge who is worthy of help and who is not; but rather is motivated by a the mission to stand in solidarity with all who suffer in the pits of despair.

Imagine a community that doesn’t shout instructions safely from the sidelines, but enters into the depths of despair in order to whisper words of peace and provide a comforting embrace.

Imagine a community not concerned with superficial appearances or conversation; but a community held together with authentic, compassionate, God-centered relationship. 

I am here today because I found such a community. You see, I lost my faith in God while in college. It was a terrifying time for me. I do not recall which came first, but I experienced a debilitating depression at the same time. I barely managed to complete the last semester of my Junior year, but when I did I had no options for the summer. My plan was to return home and spend my days and nights sleeping, which often seemed like all I could do. But then I received a phone call from the director of the Lutheran summer camp where I had worked the previous two summers. She told me they were in desperate need of staff for the summer. As much as I pushed back, she was relentless. With nothing better to do, I showed up with the intention of serving as the lifeguard that summer. 

A few nights into our staff training program, we were around the campfire sharing our faith stories. As each person spoke I became more and more nervous because for the first time I felt safe enough to open up about my lost faith, my struggles, my depression. I hadn’t shared any of that with anyone except my parents (and even with them I only told them part of the story). I hadn’t shared my experiences because the thing I feared most was rejection. I knew that my community of friends and family were the only positive force in my life at the time and I couldn’t risk losing their support. But there, around the fire, hearing other college-age students share their faith, questions, and doubts, I felt the courage to be honest. 

And so I told the truth. I publicly announced my inability to believe in God, which up to that point had been my secret shame. Their response was neither pity nor condemnation. Instead, they thanked me, hugged me, and made it clear that they appreciated my presence and friendship. Many asked if I would be willing to talk more about my struggles so they could better understand.

At a time in my life when I felt completely helpless, a community of Christ followers joined me in my suffering, responded with unconditional grace, and helped me on the path back to faith and trust in a God who had been with me all along.

It is true that God helps those who help themselves; but it is also true, and infinitely more important, that God helps those who cannot help themselves. And the best part is that God helps us with that hard, holy work. 

Amen.