Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid. Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord.
Did you hear the echo? Did you hear the echo of the Collect for Purity in the letter to the Hebrews Ray just read to us? He read: “The Word of God is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.”
Each week we pray the prayer that echoes this scripture—the prayer that describes for me our relationship with God in a way that thrills my soul each time I hear or say the words. “To you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.”
When I was a little girl, this prayer would have terrified me. When I was a little girl, going off to Sunday School in the red brick Baptist church up at the end of our street, God and Santa Claus seemed to have a lot in common. They were both watching me all the time, they both knew everything I did and everything I thought. They were both ever vigilant, measuring my days in order to reward me for the things I did right and punish me for the things I did wrong.
I knew that “Jesus loves me,” because we sang it every week, but Santa was the one who brought the toys, and I didn’t want to imagine what might happen if I died before I woke after one of those days when I didn’t seem to do much right. I had visions of the fiery furnace that the king tossed Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego into and was vaguely confused about why the angel of the Lord would watch over them and keep them from burning but probably not come to my assistance if I ended up in Hell—whatever and wherever that was.
I did know what heaven would be like because we had a record album, complete
with pictures,
of Loretta Young reading the Littlest Angel. So I knew that heaven was a lot
like earth, only better, and I knew somehow that there was hope for me. Somehow
I got the message.
Somehow I knew that the God who tidied up that little would-be angel, tilted
his halo back to the right direction and made his little box of treasures into
the star that guided the way to Bethlehem would somehow manage to find a place
for me. And my vision of the reign of God became firmly grounded in the idea
that all things which were wrong with me—and with the world—would
someday be made right.
And that’s probably how it was with James and John, two of Jesus’ closest friends. They have a clear picture of the way the world will be when the messiah came, and they have become convinced that Jesus is the one. They know that the messiah will bring an end to their oppression by the Romans. They know that the messiah will usher in the reign of God. They know there will be a table-turning that will have the Jews resuming their rightful place as world leaders, complete with the courts and honors, riches and rewards. They know what the world will be like when all things that were wrong were made right. And they are more than concerned about what their place will be when the great day comes.
I believe I have told you about a discussion that occurred at our house. The point of the discussion was the advisability of adding another child to the family. My daughter and son-in-law were each firmly entrenched in their own positions and opinions. Katie, who was then five years old, was delighted at the thought of a new baby to play with and perhaps boss around, and was ping-ponging around the room, already making plans for all the things she would do with this new life. Brianna, from her vantage point of nine years of accumulated wisdom and of five years experience of living with Katie, just looked at her. “Katie,” she said, “you have no idea what you’re asking for.”
And neither do James and John. They see their own vision of the reign of God, with Jesus sitting on the throne, and themselves sharing in his glory. They don’t know the price they will be asked to pay.
As I prepared to preach today, I found that I couldn’t reflect on this portion of the gospel without remembering last week’s gospel. As you no doubt remember, the rich young man ran up to Jesus, fell on his knees and said: ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus, looking at him, loved him. Jesus saw the thoughts of the young man’s heart, he loved him, then he told him point-blank what he needed to do to enter the kingdom of God. All he needed to do was give up the things that were more important to him than God. That’s all, just give up the things that pulled his attention away from God. That was all, and that was everything.
The rich young man had no idea what he was asking for. He simply wanted a guarantee that what he was doing was enough. James and John had no idea what they were asking for. They simply wanted a guarantee that they would remain as close to Jesus as they had been since he called them.
What is that we are asking for today? Each of us comes to this place, asking for something in our hearts. And those thoughts of our hearts are known to Jesus just as clearly as the thoughts of James, John and the rich young man. He looks into our hearts, he loves us, and he tells us to turn away from those things that distract us from looking toward God.
Some minutes ago, I said that the Collect for Purity would have terrified me when I was a little girl but that it thrills my adult soul each time I hear it. The difference lies in many years experience of God’s love—in my conviction that the words “for God so loved the world” have meaning in my life today. God who knows the thoughts of my heart loves me despite my own picture of the reign of God—which probably has little to do with God’s reality. We who shake our heads at Jesus’ disciples and their distorted image of the man and his mission are kidding ourselves if we believe that our view of 2000 years retrospection is any more true to Jesus’ message than the disciples’ view and understanding. We have our own barriers to the reign of God, and all the What Would Jesus Do bracelets in the world can’t begin to break them down.
So where does that leave us? It leaves us standing with James and John, standing with the rich young man. It leaves us standing here flat-footed and naked in all our humanity. It leaves each of us doing the best we can on most days. It leaves us with weighty decisions to make and imperfect knowledge with which to make them. Most importantly, it leaves us standing before the one who loves us, seeking answers to our questions, trying to open our hearts to God’s will for our lives. It leaves us standing before the one who loves us, who knows each of our truths, and forgives us. It leaves us with only one guarantee: that God’s love and forgiveness for each of us is greater than any of us can ever imagine.
Thanks be to God.