Fifth Sunday of Lent

Hospitality from the margins – the art of empowering

1 Kings 17:1-16 and Philemon 1-16 and Luke 10:1-16 (again)

This morning I want us to think about hospitality from the margins, or, the art of empowering. And I want to do that by focusing on a small word, a word that it is easy to overlook, a word that you might not expect to have anything much to say, but a word on which the stories of our lives turn and turn again. I want us to think about the three-letter-word ‘but’.

But is an unwelcome ending, a falling short of what is required, a running out of resources. In a drought-stricken land, Elijah finds provision from the mouths of carrion birds, ‘But after a while the wadi dried up…’ There and then, the prophet whose word could command clouds discovers the limits of his ability to exert control in the world.

But is a hesitation, a qualification of what we can offer, of what we can do. The Lord comes to a widow living a marginal existence on the very margin of the Promised Land and commands her to feed one of the greatest figures in Israel’s history. Elijah comes to her for hospitality, ‘But she said, “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing…only…a little…for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die”’.

But is a dying to self in the wilderness…and the rumour that death is not the end. ‘Elijah said to her, “Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first…and afterwards…”’ But is God’s intrusion into our lives: the daring hope that we might be empowered to do what he has called on us to do, first for the sake of others, and, in so daring, discovering renewed life for ourselves.

But is the fanfare announcement of redemption. Onesimus is a runaway slave, who runs from himself – his name means ‘Useful’ but he cannot believe that he can inhabit such an identity – and from his master’s god. Runs, only to run into Paul, himself a slave of God, and so to be set free, for ‘Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me.’

But is consideration, a bond of partnership, with others, and indeed with God. Paul writes to Philemon, ‘I wanted to keep him with me…but I preferred to do nothing without your consent…’

And in our Gospel reading, but is an honest assessment of our circumstances, that calls us to pray – “The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask…” – and to go, as lambs in the midst of wolves, trusting that the Good Shepherd is not far off;

but (if not) is a guarantee, that peace will not be stolen from us, will not run out;

but (whenever) is wise instruction, for when disciples are not met with a welcome; and

but (at the judgement) is the reservation by God of the right to have the final word over every protesting ‘But…!’

We live in an uncertain world, a world that – from the most global to the most local of concerns – turns and turns again on that little word but, in all of its senses. And yet in the midst of our unknowable, unpredictable, uncertain lives, something knowable, predictable, and certain also turns and turns again: the revelation of Scripture, most fully manifest in the person of Jesus, that God comes looking for us in the wilderness to transform our lives beyond what we can possibly imagine.

I see that written most large in the small deeds of kindness offered by a widow, a man running from his past; and in the lives of those members of this congregation who have stepped up in this past week to respond to the Lord’s gracious command, and found themselves unlikely ambassadors of the kingdom of God.

But what about you? Where are you within the story today? Are you at an end, or a beginning? Or do you find yourself at the turning-point in-between? What do you need to hear from Jesus today? A word that gives courage, or wisdom? That sends you out, or calls you back to him? Lent is a time to take time to be found, to be loved, to be empowered. To discover that small can have enormous significance. You may feel small, but…