Ours, But Not Ours Alone--August 13, 2020

 

Ours, But Not Ours Alone--August 13, 2020

"May God be gracious to us and bless us, and make his face to shine up on us, that your way may be known up on earth, and your saving power among all nations. Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you. Let the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon earth. Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you. The earth has yielded its increase; God, our God, has blessed us. May God continue to bless us; let all the ends of the earth revere him." [Psalm 67:1-7]

I was walking through the woods with my son yesterday, and as he kept shooing insects away from his face along the path, he had an epiphany.  After another futile bout of telling the gnats to bug off (and then laughing at his own unintended pun), he looked over at me and said, "I guess this isn't just a path for humans--this is their space, too, isn't it?"

And of course he was right.  We humans cut trees and clear paths and maybe even make some signs with the names we have given to this or that hillside, this or that creek, this or that forest.  But none of them are solely our spaces.  We share the woods with the gnats, the birds, and the deer that live in them, like we share the lake with the fish and the ducks and the crawdads, like we share this beautiful blue-and-green-and-brown planet with all creatures and all people on it.  This world is our home, yours and mine, but only a fool would think it is ours alone.  It is not our private possession, and it never has been.

The ancient poet who wrote the song that we call Psalm 67 (although one wonders if at some point it had a catchier title attached to it at some point) sees that it is much the same with God.  The Creator of all things can indeed be called "our God," but that doesn't make God ours alone.  In fact, the old songwriter says, this same one God guides all nations and reigns with justice for all peoples.  The psalmist calls out for God to bless not just one nation, but all of them, and to bring salvation to all the peoples of the earth as well.  Because of that, the poet calls on all nations to praise this one God, and to sing with joy.  God is "our God" the same way my parents are "mine"--that is to say, not exclusively, because my brother can call them "his" just a surely as I can.  My parents, in that sense, are mine, but not mine alone.  Like the Earth is my home, but not mine solely, the God in whom I find a home is not my private possession.

Knowing that--and letting it sink in--does something to us.  I think a lot of the time we operate with the (false) assumption that God belongs to one group, one ethnicity, one culture, one nation, or one political party.  We end up treating God like a possession, a mascot, or a genie who lives in our lamp, rather than the Sovereign over all creation.  We have a way of thinking God is only ever interested in helping Me-and-My-Group out, or that God doesn't give good things to people whose language, skin color, culture, or lifestyles are different from our own.  After all, we think, we are God's people... and therefore, anybody else isn't among God's people.  The psalmist, however, begs to differ.

It can be uncomfortable--threatening, even--to consider that God loves me but not ONLY me... and that God is not only working for the well-being of folks with my demographics, but people half a world away living in sub-Saharan Africa... and in mainland China... and in Central America.  Part of our problem is that we tend to assume that God is a commodity in limited supply, like pie.  And if someone else gets a bigger piece of the pie than I have, I feel insecure... or afraid... or threatened.  But that's not how it works with an infinite God!

Sure, with the finite resources of other people in our lives, yes, there are limits.  There is a certain inescapable zero-sum quality to your available time and energy and effort in this life, and it is the same with every other person you meet.  Yes, to some degree, you and I have to choose who and what gets our time, our focus, our care, and our selves--the time you spend with your friend is time you can't spend at work... and the time you spend with your kids or your parents is time you can't spend with your book club or your drinking buddies (depending on your social calendar).  Yes, for all of us, we have to make choices about who and what are most important to us, and whom we give the limited resource of time to.  But that's decidedly NOT how it is with God.  God, who is both outside of our experience of time and infinite in being, doesn't run out of love.  God is not a scarce resource, such that I need to feel threatened when I realize that God loves and blesses you.  God can be "my God" while at the same time being yours, and in fact, God reserves the right to love and bless and provide for all of us--all nations, all peoples, all languages, tribes, tongues, and cultures.  And when we realize that God is not a zero-sum reality, I don't have to get possessive about God's goodness--I can in fact rejoice when God does good things for others, even when it doesn't directly benefit me.

We have been fed for too long the faulty theology that turns God into a private commodity. We have been told to pray for God to bless our land, our country, our state, our community, with the unspoken request for God not to bless those outside the imaginary lines we have drawn.  But here are these ancient words, sung for centuries before even Jesus' birth, that remind us that God has always been invested in bringing the whole world more fully to life--that includes me, but it doesn't end with me.  That includes my land, but it isn't just mine.  That includes my society, but not only them.  Because it turns out that life itself doesn't have to be thought of as a limited supply--when God blesses someone else with abundant life, it doesn't take it away from me.  It just means the world has come a little more fully alive.  That's good no matter what or where it happens.  

Dr. King once famously said that "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere," and that is true.  But so is the opposite--any place and any time where justice is done, where mercy is shown, where someone is brought more fully to life, it is good news for all creation.  And instead of being upset or territorial or childishly possessive with God, maybe we can actually listen to these words from the Scriptures and learn to rejoice at every good thing, not just the ones that directly affect me.  Maybe we can see, like my son taught me to see on a wooded path, that God's goodness is ours... but not ours alone.  And instead of feeling threatened or impoverished by that truth (as though it meant someone was going to "take" some of our share of God's goodness), we can rejoice all the more to know that God's goodness is showered over all creation.  Any goodness, any kindness, any blessing, any grace, shown to anyone, is something we can rejoice over--because we are connected to all the world which God loves, and over which God reigns in goodness, justice, and mercy.

Today, maybe it's worth taking an honest look at the ways each of us gets caught up in trying to make God our private possession, rather than being moved to awe and joy to know God loves and does good for all peoples, everywhere.  Maybe we can be both humbled and exalted to know that God is our God, but not ours alone.

Lord God, help us to see that you were never our private possession, and instead allow us to rejoice over your goodness everywhere and at all times.