We Are Included

We Are Included--November 15, 2018

"For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children or God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies." [Romans 8:19-23]

The victory is so much bigger than we dared imagine.  The victory of Jesus, that is.  It includes you, and it includes me... but it is so much wider and deeper and taller and bigger than just me or you.  We sometimes forget that.

We would do well to remember.

I remember two years ago when the Cleveland Cavaliers won the national championship title for the NBA.  Now, as a child of the Cleveland suburbs, even living across a state line now for more than a decade, I was of course happy for my old hometown team.  I had caught headlines and online news stories about the team, led at the time by LeBron James, and was glad to see them advancing through the playoffs.  It brought back to my mind the memories of being a kid and going to Cavs games in the old Richfield Coliseum, in the days when Brad Daugherty and Mark Price ran up and down the court in the blue, white, and orange uniforms.  I remembered seeing them play and seeing playoff hopes dashed year after year... which was not really much of a disappointment, given it was Cleveland, after all, and the other teams to root for were the Indians and the Browns.  So for most of my formative years, every professional sports team around me excelled at flirting with success, and then abruptly snatching defeat from the jaws of victory before the last round of the post-season arrived.

So I remember feeling a sense of satisfaction when the Cavs, my old hometown team, finally won the championship in 2016.  And I can remember thinking to myself, even if just for a minute or two, "Ahh.... now I feel satisfied.  I am vindicated.  My team won."

Oh. Come.  On.

It is embarrassing to confess it now, and I am glad at least that I got over myself eventually.  But yeah, at first, my thought was that the news about the Cavaliers' championship was first and foremost about me and my victory.  Me and my team won.  But... in actuality, it was The-Team-That-Happened-To-Be-Geographically-Closest-To-The-Town-Where-I-Grew-Up that won.  I hadn't made it happen.  I hadn't won any games.  I hadn't supported the team waving a banner at any games.  I hadn't shelled out any money to buy a jersey or so much as a ball cap to identify with my team.  I hadn't even bothered to watch a whole game live on television.  I could be happy that my old home team won the title, sure--but it was the utmost arrogance for me, even for a moment, to think that the championship was really about vindication for me, one random former semi-fan who hadn't lived in Ohio for ten years and couldn't name the entire starting line-up without help.

The victory of that year was bigger than just me.  I needed to know that.  It needed to sink in.  The victory included me--but not in the sense that I had made it happen because of my own athletic prowess (ha!) or deep dedication as a fan (spit out your water with laughter here).  No, the victory was won by the actual players, and I could celebrate with them wherever I was, but it was always bigger than just me.

Truthfully, it wasn't just me eavesdropping from western Pennsylvania that was happy for the Cavs' big win.  The city was overjoyed--it was the team's first title ever.  Ever!  They had waited and hoped.  They had seen their star player lead them, then leave to go to Miami for a few years, and then come back to them to bring them the title and their championship rigs.  They had waited and supported and lived through disappointments and departures, and after all of it, their team came through for them.  The city was celebrating.  It was a victory so much bigger than me.  In fact, my role in that victory was this tiny little marginal piece of a celebration that stretched all across northern Ohio and all the way back for decades of fans who had hoped, but had never seen, an NBA title come to Cleveland.

As humbling as it is now for me to admit that I had, for even a little while, thought the victory was about me, I need that reminder and that lesson in humility, when I think about God's victory in Christ.  Because again, my temptation--as it is for all of us in our little myopic views of the world--is to see God's victory as all about...me.  It is tempting to think that Jesus' resurrection from the dead is primarily aimed at giving me, as the center of attention, life after death.  It is tempting to think that the entirety of the Christian faith is about getting me, and other people like me, into heaven, when the real picture is so much wider and deeper and bigger and more beautiful.

Paul sees it in cosmic scope--God's victory isn't just about me.  It includes me, yes (there, now you can settle down, Steve's ego!).  And it includes you.  But it also includes all of creation, a creation that is waiting, not to be destroyed, but to be renewed and set free.  My picture of God's victory is laughably incomplete if I think it is only about snatching me up into heaven, rather than about a gracious God's rightful reign and restorative work to mend of all the universe and dethrone all the pompous pretenders.  It is literally universal in scope--that is to say, God's victory is about the entire universe.

So often, we religious folk make the conversation all about me, and we act like halfhearted out-of-state basketball fans casually catching up on the sports headlines on the online news, thinking that the victory is meant to be vindication for "me" as an individual fan (and a fair-weather one at that).  We sometimes talk, we church folks, like the Christian faith is simply a matter of me rather selfishly getting a heavenly insurance policy to cover where I go when I die.  We sometimes act, we religious people, as though Jesus came primarily to get people to pray a specific set of words to him like a magic incantation so that our reservations will be confirmed for the afterlife.  And we sometimes believe, we who name the name of Jesus, that God doesn't much care for the rest of the universe--only about getting more butts into seats up into heaven after they die.

And here the New Testament itself wants us remember that it has always been bigger than just me and my interests after I die.  Paul wants us to see that God's victory is good news for all of creation, and not just me.  Paul wants us to see that the world God made once upon a time is the world God still loves and God is redeeming.  And right now, part of how we witness to the sheer wideness of that redemption is to take care of all that is around us--not because God cannot or will not take care of it without us, but precisely as a witness to what matters to God.  We take care of each other, of people far away, of people we have not met yet, of people who cannot do any favors for us in return, and for God's world all around us, as an act of faith to show the world that it matters to God as the world, and not just as the backdrop for plucking up souls.  God loves the world, and so all the world--the "whole creation" as Paul says--is what God has it in mind to restore.  It has always been that wide.  It has always been that deep.

Looking back on the 2016 NBA Championship, I was a pretty pathetic fan.  I wanted to make the victory all about me, despite the fact that I was a pretty lackluster supporter.  But recognizing that the victory of the Cleveland Cavaliers was about the whole city didn't mean I was excluded--it just helped me to put the whole thing into the right perspective.  The victory included me... but it was always bigger than just me.

This is the perspective that the followers of Jesus are dared to take up right here and now:

My prayer life can certainly include me and my wishes and wants... but it is always about more than just God having to give me whatever I call religious "dibs" on.  Praying is meant to be bigger than just me.

My energy isn't meant to be spent for just me and my interests. Yes, God wills for the well being of all, and yes, I am included in the well-being of all.  But my energy is not meant to be spent just on "Me and My Group First," because God's intention is to make all of life bigger than just me.

My hope isn't meant to be focused on my immediate future and my immediate wants but is always aimed wider and taller, at the God who gives victory.  Hope is meant to be bigger than what I can see at the moment.

So today, friends, let's allow the scope of God's victory to spread out and unfurl all around us.  Let's give up on all the ways we shortsightedly make it about just Me and My Group First.  And let's instead let the Scriptures themselves stretch our vision, our hope, and our lives.

Lord Jesus, allow our voices to be added to all the rest of creation at your victory... and allow us to remember how wide and deep your love really is.