Marilu Thomas, “A Safe Place to Land”

Whenever I’m around toddlers, I think of a story I heard from a dad. Anyone who thinks three-year-olds are innocent and can do no wrong hasn’t had a three-year-old. This dad walked into the kitchen and saw his three-year-old son on a teetering tower of boxes and a chair, just having reached the top shelf where the chocolate chip cookies lived. When the boy saw his dad, he gave him the cookie, saying, “For you, daddy!” pretending he climbed up there just to get his dad a cookie. We can see ourselves as both the kid and the dad in this story.  It’s funny because it shows we build our own towers to the top shelf to get what we want, pretending it’s for someone else.

What do you want? Think about the question. You’re not a three-year-old anymore but your wants, and the ways to get your wants, haven’t changed all that much. In the Gospel of today, John the Baptist tells his disciples to follow Jesus, the Messiah, the Lamb of God. Two disciples literally follow him as he walks until Jesus turns around and asks them, “What are you looking for?” They are taken by surprise and stammer, “Teacher, where are you staying?” It’s an odd little moment recorded by John that gets at the heart of our own spiritual awkwardness. What are we looking for? What do we want? 

Because I was writing my report for the annual meeting when I read this text, I started thinking about, what do I want? What had I wanted during my lifetime? How did it change and morph? We are very blessed at Christ Church because we have clergy from almost every decade of life—20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s so we get to hear from different experiences.

What did I want in my 20s? I wanted to graduate from college, have a meaningful career and get married to a handsome, cool guy. Check. In my 30s? Get ahead in my career, be a great wife and mom, and get the house with the dog and picket fence. Check and then uncheck, not sure how good a mom or wife I was, and the house and fence were eventually part of a bankruptcy, both personal and financial. I wanted to survive. In my 40s? I don’t know what I wanted except not to be 40. I was shocked that maybe this was all there would be to my life, so I pushed for more by going to graduate school. I wanted to be wicked smart, financially secure and avoid any more problems. So, I went to seminary. No check-who cares about checks anymore. What did I want in my 50s? To feel settled and secure, to know my life would mean something to my children and grandchildren. 

In my 60’s? To know that God still uses old people. To have a softer heart and deeper faith to weather the decay in me and around me. To not be irrelevant. My life comes in waves of death and resurrection, Creation and destruction, Self-sufficiency, and the utter and abject failure of self-sufficiency, knowing and not knowing anything. 

Underneath the emails, grocery shopping, permission slips, work projects, lunches, laundry, pets, housecleaning, and planning anything fun, was the hum of the engine of my ego. The wants I don’t share because I don’t want to be judged. If Jesus turned around and asked me, “What do you want? What are you looking for?” I would have said, “I want more.” I always want more than what I have or have been given or need. More is what I want. But there is a common theme to my More. I want to feel more safe, more secure, more loved, and more certain.

There is another part of this biblical story in the next verse about the disciples Philip and Nathanael. The crowd-funded series The Chosen has given Nathanael a backstory that I appreciate. Nathanael is an architect working for the Romans but has dreams of designing synagogues with “colonnades that sing, parapets that practically pray, vaulted halls that draw the soul upward toward God.” Meanwhile, he is a Jew designing buildings for the Roman city of Caesarea Philippi when a roof collapses and he is fired on the spot. In his grief and shame, Nathanael goes out of the city to a large fig tree, where he burns all his synagogue designs and pours the ashes over his head like a dead man, crying, “Hear my prayers, O Lord! Help me in my hour of distress! Do you see me? Do you see me! Don’t turn your face from me!” His friend Philip finds him depressed in bed and asks him to come see Jesus. When they arrive, Jesus says to him, “Behold an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asks, “How do you know me?” Jesus answers, “Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree.” Nathanael, through tears and wonder, answers, “You are the Son of God! The King of Israel!” 

What did Nathanael really want? What did that kid on the tower of boxes really want more than the chocolate chip cookie? What have you really wanted? You may be under your own fig tree asking Jesus, “Do you see me? Do you care?” Through this gospel, Jesus is telling you that he sees you and cares what is happening to you. He sees how hard you are working, how many plates you have spinning, how many times you have felt like leaving, how tired you feel, how much guilt you carry, how you are grieving, how much you have lost and what you regret. He is the Lamb of God, the limitless gift to you because of his self-sacrifice to relieve your guilt and redeem your life. Nathanael, who thought his life was over, was redeemed by Jesus. It was God’s rescue plan all along—to come as Jesus Christ to lift our heavy burden of guilt, regret, and self-absorption through his own self-sacrifice. Jesus Christ was not killed by God—He was God who came to sacrifice himself in cosmic exchange for you. You are not only seen and loved, God sacrificed himself to make you whole. We can’t see guilt, regret, or shame, but can you believe the unseen love of Christ is at work to lift them from you? Hard to imagine but true.

When I struggle with the disintegration of my life and my lack of power to do anything about it, Jesus sees me and loves me. My eyes cannot see far enough ahead to know what is coming, but He can. The rhythm of any life is death and resurrection, and it continues to be. Not once and for all—but over and over again. What do you really want, after all is said and done? To know God cares and is there with you, seen or unseen. 

In closing, I have my Spotify account basically set to Paul Zach because he is amazing and is always churning out some new song that reminds me of the grace of God in Jesus. This week, Spotify said, “Because you listen to Paul Zach, you might like this…” It was a song called Safe Place to Land by Sara Bareilles and John Legend. Listen to the words.

The ocean is wild and over your head

And the boat beneath you is sinking

Don’t need room for your bags

Hope is all that you have

So say the Lord’s prayer twice, hold your babies tight

Surely someone will reach out a hand

And show you a safe place to land

The hand of Christ is reaching out to you, freeing you from the tyranny of your spinning plates and picket fence failures, giving you a safe place of grace to land. Where is Jesus staying? With you. Always with you. Amen