A Fly Went By

 This morning, I want to invite you in for a tour of my ADD brain. 

This past Sunday, at the 8 am service there was a massive fly buzzing around the sanctuary.  And I was immediately of two minds about the fly.  On the one hand, I was thinking, “Yay, the first fly of Spring!”  Despite the cold weather and the threat of snow, here was a fly, surely a great portend, a dove returning with an olive branch, if you will.  Surely, pollinators and flowers must be right around the corner. 

That was the positive way of looking at the fly. 

The other thing I was thinking during the service was that fly was probably a horsefly, or some sort of biting fly.  And when it alighted on the pew in front of me, I could not help but think that I could Karate Kid that fly.  Or I could take the Book of Common Prayer and just slam it down on that sucker.  Probably not the Book of Common Prayer, that seemed disrespectful.  A hymnal.  Also I was in the second row and there was no way I could kill that fly discreetly.  

But that fly was very distracting. 

So distracting that I started thinking about a class I took at Miami.  It was a warm day.  The professor had those large windows in the classroom open all the way.  There were no screens.  There was a beehive of some sort right outside one of the windows.  So during the class we were surrounded by swarms of bees with their constant hum, flying over our heads. 

Ask me what class that was and I will tell you I have no memory of that.  

All I remember is the bees. 

So, on Sunday, not only was I distracted by the fly, but I was also distracted by the memory of another time I was distracted. 

Even now as I am writing this, I am reminded of another instance at my old church when the pastor was doing the children’s sermon up by the altar.  The kids were gathered around her.  She had a leaf, a branch of something, I can’t remember what and I think her sermon must have been on the subject of life—something wholesome and enriching.  

But at some point, she noticed there was an ant on the branch and without missing a beat, she grabbed that ant between her thumb and forefinger and squished that ant dead. 

Which meant her children’s sermon now had an entirely different message. 

We are such a distracted culture aren’t we? 

I think of Jesus’s Parable of the Sower in our reading for today.  It seems to me that a lot of us are either the seed falling on rocky ground or the seed falling among the thorns.  

When we find ourselves on rocky ground, we may have the best of intentions.  We love God.  We want to do good in the world, but the rocky ground doesn’t allow us to have deep roots and when trouble comes our way, we are easily distracted.  Cynicism replaces joy.  Our hearts harden and we lose sight of the love of God. 

Or we may find ourselves scattered among the thorns.  Like the seed on rocky ground, we hear the Word.  We love the Word, but again distraction, pain and suffering, wars and rumors of wars, choke that love. 

So, what do we do when we find ourselves in rocky soil?  When we find ourselves surrounded by thorns?  Because it feels like rocky soil and thorns are not something we have control over.  We know this.  Life is hard.  Distractions are plentiful.  Jesus’s Parable of the Sower only goes so far.  Seed thrown on good soil prospers.  

But what do we do when, through no fault of our own, we find ourselves struggling to bear good fruit in the world? 

And if you have read or listened to my reflections all these years, you will notice a common pattern.  I will ask a question and I will provide an answer that is a seemingly small act, but full of enormous and divine-inspired potential. 

Today is no different. 

But I want to make something clear first.  I am not suggesting that the solution to all of life’s problems is easy or small.  We are all living in a world currently where our problems range from a fly buzzing around the sanctuary to wars in the Middle East.

And if there is no simple solution to the distraction of a buzzing fly during Sunday service, there is absolutely no easy solution to war. 

However, I do believe with all my heart that the first step to a solution, the first step in growing our roots deeper even in rocky soil, in eluding, in dodging, in thriving despite the persistent thorns that spring up everywhere around us, is something simple. 

And it is this. 

We must do things that nourish us spiritually.  We must hydrate with living water and eat of the bread of life.  

And for me, I believe one way to do this is relational; it is how we interact with the people in our lives, not just our close friends or family, but, especially in our interactions with strangers.  Imagine if we looked at every encounter with a stranger as an encounter with God. 

Even as I say that, I am reminded that I, and most of my generation, was raised with the admonition DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS!  It was so ingrained in me, in fact, that once, when I was little, I walked past a policeman on the street.  He said “Hi” to me and I responded by glaring at him and refusing to speak. 

My mom was horrified, but I was just doing what she told me. 

So let me add a discerning clarifier.  Imagine if every encounter you have with someone over the course of the day, whether it’s someone you know or a stranger, is an opportunity for God to work through your heart. 

Last Friday, at physical therapy, I held the elevator for a woman.  She thanked me.  She was also going to physical therapy.  We were the only two in the waiting room.  It had only been a minute or two of silence.  I had put away my phone and was dozing with my eyes open, when the woman struck up a conversation with me. 

 I am always surprised when strangers start talking to me, but it has been happening more and more lately.  The woman asked me about my physical therapy, and I got the sense from her that she wasn’t being nosy, but was actually nervous, perhaps about her own appointment.  

So, I asked her about her own back issues and quickly slipped into what I call “chaplain mode.” 

Chaplain mode means being a more active listener, not thinking about what you want to say next, but truly listening.  If you speak at all it’s to express sympathy or empathy.  

I wondered, as she was speaking, if God was calling me to pray not just for her but with her.  I’ve prayed with people in stranger places than a waiting room. 

But she was called back for her appointment a moment later and I didn’t have a chance to speak to her again. 

It is terrifyingly easy these days to cultivate a hardened heart.  There are so many thorns out there to trip us up. 

Please recognize that everyone is hurting these days.  And that a little bit of kindness toward strangers especially can go a long way in healing not just someone else’s heart, but our hearts as well. 

All of this reminds me of a story I’ve told many times.  Early in my teaching career, one of my teacher friends showed me something strange she found in her classroom.  There in the back of the room was a small plant seemingly growing out the seam where the wall met the floor.  I think we watched it grow for a few days and then one night, the janitor came in and tore it out and threw it away. 

That day one of our students came up to that teacher.  He was distraught.  He was the one who had planted that plant.  Every day, he brought water in a tiny little M&M container to water his plant.  Why had he done this?  Who knows?  Maybe it made school bearable, to come every day with the purpose of making sure something lived and thrived even in the strangest of soil. 

Take the time today to nourish your own spirit.  Do not neglect it.  You can do nothing for others until you take care of yourself first.  

What do I always say?  Love God.  Love your neighbors, unconditionally and without exception.  But also this: remember that God loves you.  You are God’s gift to the world.  Treat yourself with the holiness and care that responsibility deserves. 

Amen.