A Perseverance of the Soul

Sermon

On the social media site Tik Tok right now, there’s a burning question going around: how often do you think about the Roman Empire? Men are asked the question by their partners, who are amused to learn that their man thinks about the Roman Empire several times a week, if not every day.

When I first heard of the trend, I did not know that it was an exercise in how different sexes favor particular historical eras. I thought it was a general question, and I would have answered it, “At least once a week.” Because, as a pastor, I engage with holy scripture that was written during the height of the Roman Empire, in a subculture that was oppressed by the Roman Empire and challenged the Roman Empire.

The apostle Paul thought about the Roman Empire a lot, too. After all, he was one of their citizens. In today’s scripture lesson, Paul is invoking the image of the Roman chariot race, which was a popular form of entertainment way back when. In those races, the driver or charioteer would wrap the horses’ reins around his body. He dare not look back at who was gaining on him, lest that turn shifted the reins, the horse went in the wrong direction, the chariot tumbled over, and not only was the race lost but the charioteer’s life may have been too.

We do that, don’t we? Look back and not ahead? It’s a human tendency to ruminate over things in the past, a hurt that happened yesterday or an unresolved conflict from decades ago that still makes our stomachs churn and still hampers a relationship from moving forward. We cannot change the past, often to our chagrin. Keep looking back, and you’ll miss out on your life right here, right now. And sometimes, not looking back but looking ahead is a matter of life and death.

Many years ago, when my dad was recovering from hip replacement surgery, someone gave him the book Endurance by Alfred Lansing, about explorer Ernest Shackleton’s ill-fated attempt to traverse the South Pole. It then became the book my dad would give anyone going through a hard time. It’s a harrowing read, but the story is an extraordinary one about this team of men who endured, who did not look back but pressed on toward the goal not of traversing the South Pole but of surviving a disaster.

You all could tell me your stories of how you endured disaster and tragedy, how you persevered toward a goal, and I would love to hear those stories. Honestly, I think just getting through middle school is a story worth telling for any of us, so shout out to the kids in the balcony!

And how many of us could tell stories about how we endured and persevered in our faith? That’s what Paul is getting at in these words: he is encouraging the community of Jesus followers in Philippi to “keep on keepin’ on” in their walk with Christ, not the literal walk but the walk of the soul. Paul knew of what he wrote; he wrote this letter from prison where his physical movements were so limited. But his soul was not, and so he prayed, and remembered scripture, and wrote to these fledgling communities to encourage them not to give up.

Because here’s the thing: faith doesn’t just happen. That initial gift we receive that there is a God will stay just an inkling unless we tend to it, the way a seed needs to be planted, watered, and receive light in order to grow. There are, of course, many who stay in their first idea of God and that works for some. But for others, when a crisis hits, they find that their faith is not strong enough to sustain them.

One commentator (Alyce McKenzie) suggests that Paul is urging “a perseverance of the soul.” Perseverance of the soul. So let’s imagine what that might look like, using some proverbs to guide our way.

Let me start with a proverb that does not illustrate any of this. Perhaps some boss or some parent or some coach or teacher once said to you, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going” or “Winners never quit and quitters never win.” While I can appreciate some of this, I’ve also seen it cause great harm.

Sometimes we need to stop doing things, and sometimes we need to reset our goals, and sometimes we need to completely change our spiritual practices. I’ve known far too many people who stayed in a religious tradition that was causing them harm, usually because it denied them their full humanity. If you come to church and someone tells you have to change before God will love you, walk right out. And if you ever hear us say that here, please let a pastor or elder know.

Spiritual practices changed for folks after the worst of the pandemic. Going virtual and not meeting in person for almost a year was the final push some needed to just stop church. There are people in the Westminster community whom we don’t see anymore and won’t see anymore. When we’ve followed up with them, we’re told they’re not mad and they still believe in God, but coming to church and participating in the life of the congregation no longer has meaning for them. It breaks my heart, and I get it. Sometimes when the going gets tough, you just have to stop going.

Here’s another proverb: “Keep your hand on the plow and hold on!” If we want to develop a perseverance of the soul, we have to work at it. A plow just sitting there, without a human or animal to pull or push it, does nothing. Faith that isn’t nurtured just sits there.

So how do we nurture faith? Well, church, obviously. Some people nurture their faith by showing up for worship and letting the beauty of this hour – the music, the silence, the windows, the readings – wash over them and fill them and inspire them.

Others nurture their faith by studying the scripture, by contemplating how the ancients related to God, by examining the contradictions within the Bible and wrestling with where God is in the middle of the contradiction.

Some pray not only to express their faith but to build it up. Let me tell you a little story about prayer.

When Laurie Newman was here, she was the pastor who led the Taizé service of Healing and Wholeness on the third Saturday of the month. Once in a while she would not be able to be there, so one of us would fill it, and if it was my turn, I dreaded it. I really did.

I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing, the music did not move me, and it was a great big inconvenience to my Saturday evening. True confession.

When Laurie moved on, before Lindsey arrived, I stepped in to lead the service, and after having done that for six months, I love it. I look forward to praying with people and more than that, I am overwhelmed by the power of praying for people and I am humbled by the realization that people are praying for me.

My faith is nurtured by praying because it is an act of recognizing that there is a power greater than humanity, a benevolent power, a loving power.

Some nurture the soul by spending time in the glories of God’s creation and feeling gratitude for all that beauty and artistry. Some nurture the soul by reading spiritual writers like St. John of the Cross or Anne Lamott or Cole Arthur Riley. Some nurture the soul by doing small acts of great love, as Mother Teresa would have us do.

Let’s look at another proverb, this one from the Yoruba tradition: “The snail climbs the tree carefully and slowly.” Perseverance of the soul is not a sprint; it’s not even a marathon. It’s a walk that never really ends.

It’s a bit like a labyrinth, a circular winding path that people walk as they contemplate some sort of question. The labyrinth walker goes back and forth with the goal of reaching the middle for however much time it takes. Once you reach the middle, you then wind back out. The point is not reaching the middle, but what you discover on your way there.

To not walk like a snail in the labyrinth is like walking over all the lines heading straight to the center and saying, “I’m here in the middle and I’m done.”

Slow and steady wins the race, as it were, and while some do experience those road-to-Damasus moments, those epiphanies when God shines a neon light, that’s usually not the way it works. It’s the years of prayer, the month after month after month of worship, the hymns that come to mind when we’re afraid – it’s all those small things that we have participated in over and over, over a long stretch of time, that allow our souls to persevere in their goal of growing closer to God.

There’s been an assumption underlying all of this that I think I need to check out with you all. It’s the assumption that we children of God want to nurture our faith. It’s the assumption that just as we feed our minds with knowledge, and just as we care for our bodies with movement and rest, so we want to care for the soul.

I don’t know how to cultivate a desire for someone to care for the soul. As a pastor, and more, as a person who loves God, I want that for people, but as that other proverb goes, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”

But you are here today because someone led you to those life-giving waters. So yes, I am preaching to the proverbial choir and hope that this has been a word of encouragement not to take the nurture of your soul for granted.

Our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made, and our minds are incredibly powerful, but our souls carry within them the ability to change the world. In the end, people aren’t saved by military might or extraordinary wealth or nearly unattainable success. In the end, people are saved by love, by kindness, by generosity, and those are the things of the soul. Those are the things of God. Those are the embodiments of Jesus’ life.

So when Paul talks about all his achievements being like rubbish compared to knowing Jesus, he’s saying that his soul and its nurture is worth so much more than his pedigree and awards and his importance. And he wants that to be true for the Jesus followers in Philippi. And if he knew us, he would want that to be true for us, too.

May we too forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead. May we press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.

To the glory of God.