“Faith Over Results”
Galatians 6:7-10
Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
On this July Fourth weekend—and, truly, every day—it is easy to confuse the gospel with national myth and toxic positivity.
National myth tells us that although George Washington chopped down his father’s cherry tree, he could not lie about it. And so schoolchildren are taught that truth-telling will be rewarded, and honest confession opens the door to growth and greatness.
The American dream tells us that through nothing more than hard work and perseverance we can become anyone we choose and have everything we want. The American capitalist dream tells us that it is through the accumulation of more and better and new-and-improved stuff that we will find happiness.
Even those of us who have disabused ourselves of these notions tend, more often than not, to put our stock in results.
After all, even our scriptures tell us—as both warning and promise— that everyone will reap what they sow. And the Easter story tells us that, by the grace of God, we will often reap things we did not sow, that we will be blessed beyond anything we deserve or can imagine, and that even death can lead to new life.
And still, we look to results to understand the world and how it works. Does our activism make a difference in political and social justice? Will being vulnerable bring us closer to the people we care about or give them a reason to reject us?
We look to results to gauge how we’re doing—whether we’re succeeding or failing, whether things are getting better or worse—and we use how we’re doing to decide how we feel about ourselves.
We look to results to find meaning. Does A plus B really equal C? Is there some natural progression of effort and result and good people finding happiness, or is life totally random.
We tend to put our faith in results. And then, when poor results test our faith, we put our faith and our hope in future results.
“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” we like to say, especially in moments of moral or political defeat.
So desperately do we cling to that hope that when we hosted what become an ecumenical post-election prayer vigil in November 2016, I handed everyone a small piece of wire and, in one of the rare moments when no sobbing or screaming could be heard, invited everyone to bend their wire.
Let me be clear: I, as much or more than anyone, want to believe the so-called arc does bend toward justice and that our actions can promote that bending—even as I grieve what seems to be a tsunami of cruelty bending the arc backward toward injustice, inequality, and wave after wave of lies and propaganda.
But if I understand correctly the life and teachings of Jesus, he is pretty clear in trying to steer us away from our attachments to results.
Consider, if you will, his instructions to the 72 followers he appointed to spread the good news of God’s realm. Don’t worry if people reject you, he told them; just shake that off like so much dust and continue loving and healing and caring for all who are open to your message.
And when the 72 returned to Jesus with joy, saying, “Wow, by your power we were able to do all manner of amazing things!” he tried to redirect their energy.
Don’t rejoice in results, he told them; rejoice that you were faithful, that you opened your heart, that you shared God’s love. Rejoice in doing what you know to be the right thing. Rejoice in being true to who God has made you and called you to be. Rejoice that God is with you.
Now, I will grant you that, as with many of Jesus’ sayings and teachings, this is much easier said than done.
How can we not want our efforts to make a difference? How can we not feel discouraged, angry, and hopeless when elected officials—lying through their teeth—celebrate their passage of a big bad bill that will jeopardize the health, lives, and security of tens of millions of people?
And, perhaps more to the point for many of us as we are tempted to despair over the cruel and surreal developments in our country, how can we stay faithful, how can we stay strong in our commitment to go out of our way to do the right thing, how can we not grow weary in doing what is right when it doesn’t seem to make a difference?
Now, because this is church and not Instagram or TikTok, because this is the gospel and not some bestselling self-help book, because this is about real and messy life and not some well-defined hypothetical, I’m not going to offer any pat answers this morning—because there aren’t any. Nor will I pretend that it’s easy to not be attached to results or to not want our efforts to make a difference—because it isn’t.
And still, because Jesus clearly valued faithful living over impressive results, I want to try to understand why. Because he clearly took the long, long, long, looong view; I want to practice doing that, too. Because Jesus prioritized loving God and his neighbors over everything else—even his own life—I, too, want to give that a try.
To try to live the Jesus way doesn’t mean that we care or love any less—only that our sense of purpose and self-worth is not diminished by defeat. It doesn’t mean that our good-faith efforts are worthless—only that we must rely on a Power much greater than our own. It doesn’t mean that good will never win out over evil—only that the struggle is real and that Love wins every time we choose justice over power, radical welcome over persecution, and generosity over greed.
“The harvest is plentiful,” Jesus said, "but the laborers are few.”
Which I take to mean that beloved community can be realized, but for now too many of us are focused on ourselves. That peace is possible, but we’ve never truly tried it. That the meek will inherit the earth, but we need more people willing to stand up to the bullies. That Love will win, but only after we realize it has already defeated death. You will achieve the desired results, when first you dedicate yourself to the holy process.
“The harvest is plentiful,” Jesus said, but we need more laborers. So get out there. Don’t worry if people reject you; just offer your peace and move along. Don’t worry if most people are in love with the lie; just keep telling the truth. Don’t give up when you lose the big battles; just stay true to who God has called you to be and stay in the fight. God is yet at work.
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is to wrestle with what we don’t understand, open ourselves to disappointment and despair, trust that God’s Spirit is working in ways we do not see, and then—despite everything—choose to live in hope, knowing we may never see the results we work for and rejoicing that God is faithful.
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is to prayerfully consider what faith calls us to do in a particular moment—regardless of the chances of “success.” I’m pretty sure that our faithful tasks always include having compassion, doing justice, loving kindness, making peace, and walking humbly with God. I’m fairly sure that walking humbly with God includes resisting cynicism, rejecting hatred in all its forms and, instead, reaching across lines of difference with curiosity and openness.
Let us not grow weary in doing what is right, says the writer to the Galatians, for we will reap the fullness of life, if we do not give up.
Beloveds, let us not give up. Ever.
Let us live by faith and reap a plentiful harvest of joy.
