Against the Numbness--May 24, 2024

Against the Numbness--May 24, 2024

"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 8:22-23]

I used to think that it was a sure sign of "Spirit-filled" people that they were happy all the time.

I used to think that the telltale characteristic of people with vibrant faith was that they always had a optimistic take on things and a sunny disposition.

I used to think that if someone was in one of those "dark night of the soul" times, that praying would automatically lift the heaviness, and the gloom would part, to make way for smiles and a renewed capacity to "accentuate the positive," as the old song goes.

I do not think that anymore.

In fact, one of the reasons I don't believe it any longer is from actually reading the Scriptures, including passages like this one that many of us heard this past Sunday.  And what I hear, particularly in these words from Paul's letters to the Roman Christians, is that the Spirit's presence in our lives might actually enable us to share the world's sorrows and pain more fully than if we had stayed Spirit-less and numb to the needs of the world around.

As many times as I have read these words, or heard them read in worship or Bible studies before, that's the thing I'm struck by on this reading.  Paul starts with saying that all of creation is groaning, like in labor pains, waiting for renewal.  And then he makes the interesting move to say that we who "have the first fruits of the Spirit" are joined in that groaning ourselves, because we, too, are aching for things to be made new, to be made whole, to be set right.

The world is aching, Paul says, and the wounds beneath that ache are all around us. Every morning's news reminds us of ongoing war grinding on, in places like Gaza and Ukraine, while stories of people still held hostage remind us how many families in Israel are living in relentless pain as they long for their loved ones to be released.  The frightening statistics about how many people are in a losing battle with addiction to opioids tell us that we are all touched by the devastating effects of drug addiction.  Kids in our neighborhoods and across the world go hungry.  And meanwhile, floating islands of human-generated trash congregate like artificial archipelagos in the ocean, droughts and famines in unexpected places are becoming more and more frequent (and more and more "the new normal" as their summers get hotter and rainfall diminishes), and scientists keep finding microplastics in our food, water, and bloodstreams.  And all of that is happening against the persistent background noise of racism, hatred, bigotry, and xenophobia that never quite goes away, even if we are so used to its low growl that we don't even realize it's there sometimes.

There is pain everywhere in our midst, and if we don't realize it, it's a sign we aren't paying attention--whether by accidental or willful ignorance.  And Paul's point is that the groaning of the world reminds us that it doesn't have to be like this.  There is something in us that sees the brokenness across creation and cries out against the sheer wrong-ness of all of it.  And that, Paul says, is a sign of the Spirit-given hope that points us toward God's promised renewal of all things.  The universe, in other words, knows that something is rotten in Denmark, and groans in the tension of waiting for new creation.  The only creatures who seem able to ignore it are we human beings, the ones whose actions are so often responsible for the groaning of the world.  And the presence of the Spirit in our lives does not desensitize us to that pain, but rather leads us to greater empathy and awareness of the world's ache.  

That is to say, the Spirit enables us to pay attention to the hurt around us rather than cover our eyes or look away. The Spirit prompts us to cry out--in both lament and anger--against injustice and oppression in the world, rather than to numb us into apathy with warm fuzzy religious feelings.  The Spirit leads us to share in the world's pain rather than shield us from it, because we are being oriented toward the hope of God's renewal of all things.

My faith should never make me more apathetic to the wounds of the world. If it does, it's a sure sign I've traded the Spirit-indwelt life for a sloppy counterfeit.  Rather, the Spirit's presence in our lives is exactly what will prod us to groaning along with the world over the injustice, cruelty, and suffering to which we would otherwise be numb.

Today, then, maybe it's worth remembering that the people who are blissfully ignorant of the pains of the world are not necessarily the models of faith that we might have thought.  It's worth remembering that the folks who always seem to be upset about some trouble in the world are not lacking in faith, but might actually be better examples of faith that is truly informed by the Spirit.  And maybe it's worth letting the Spirit disturb our comfort where we have gotten used to tuning out the pain of others.  When we feel that groan of lament and anger inside us, it's not a sign that our faith is weak; it might just be the assurance that we are truly attuned to the stirrings of the Spirit.

O Spirit of God, move us from apathy and lead us to share the pains of all creation, as you groan and sigh along with us.