Jeremiah 29:10-14
Years ago I traveled from Iowa to San Francisco to attend a work-related conference. It felt like a different world. Walking through the city, I encountered the homeless on every street, begging. My colleagues and I talked about what was the right thing to do – whether to give, how to give. We wanted to help, we wanted to do the right thing, but it’s often unclear what the right thing is.
One of my colleagues decided that she was going to give something to every person who asked and she did– until she ran out of money to give. When one more man approached her asking for something, she stopped, looked him in the eye and said, “I am all out, I have given it all away, and there is still so much need. How much am I supposed to give?”
He shrugged and turned away. It was an odd question for her to ask this man. But it is a question many of us wonder. How much are we supposed to give? It’s a difficult question in any case, but especially when we can see that no matter how much we give it is not enough. We cannot solve the problems of the world, much as we might want to.
The problems of the world are not new, of course. We remember Jesus’ words to his disciples: you will always have the poor with you. And it has always been integral to the church’s mission to serve those who are in need in whatever ways we can. The Great Ends of the Church include the shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of God and the promotion of social righteousness – making evident the kingdom of God to the world. And I want to say today that the women of the church, the Presbyterian Women, have always excelled in this way.
Perhaps it was because they were prevented from doing other things. Back when the Presbyterian Women first organized, the men of the church forbade women to speak or pray in church gatherings, but they couldn’t (nor did they want to) stop their amazing fund-raising efforts. They raised money for scholarships, for missionaries, for Bibles, for Sunday schools, and other charitable works.
In 1888, a Presbyterian woman named Eliza Clokey wanted to do a little bit more. She asked each woman in the church to give one dollar over her usual contribution to the Women’s General Missionary Society – a thank offering to the Lord. It became an annual event.
These offerings Eliza proposed would provide opportunity for the women of the church to support missions all over the world. It was an opportunity that the women seemed to embrace wholeheartedly. In 1903, the minutes of the General Assembly report that the Thank Offering that year brought in more than $34,000. “No effort is too great for the United Presbyterian Women to put forth,” they wrote. This seems to be true.
This year, the Presbyterian Women were able to give almost $400,000 in 18 grants for projects that educate women, provide food to those who are hungry, shelter to those without homes, healing to the sick, friendship to immigrants. It is astounding to read through the list of projects the women are supporting, the good work they are enabling. They are doing a lot. And yet they lament that they are not doing more.
They express regret that they were unable to fund all 75 requests that came to them. They grieve that the troubles of this world are so deep, so great, that their gifts fall far short of addressing every need. They know that, in spite of our efforts, we are unlikely to see the end of hunger and pain and homelessness and fear in our lifetime. It strikes me that this is always the risk in this kind of work – the feeling that your efforts are futile, only a drop of water in a big sea of trouble. And that you might become overwhelmed.
It is very easy to become overwhelmed by the needs of the world.
And so it is a challenge for us to continue working toward something that we fear we won’t be able to achieve, trying to solve a problem we doubt we can solve. As people of faith, the challenge we face is to continue working toward goals that seem impossible. The hard thing is to keep your eyes open, to not avert your gaze from the needs of the world. The danger is falling into an abyss of despair.
The only remedy for despair is hope.
The committee of Presbyterian Women who worked together to award the grants this year chose the text from Jeremiah to guide them and strengthen them, because it is a message about hope.
Jeremiah is sometimes known as the weeping prophet. He didn’t quite embrace the call to prophecy with enthusiasm. He was called by God as a young man, and it has occurred to me that Jeremiah might have had some plans of his own at that time – plans that would be scrapped because God had different plans for him.
Jeremiah was anointed as a prophet to the people of Judah, during very turbulent times. The nation was at risk. If you read the prophetic speeches of Jeremiah in his book, you get the clear impression that their problems were largely self-inflicted. They had failed to uphold the law of God. They had failed to care for the neediest among them. They had grown too materialistic, they idolized wealth and power, their religion had become too superficial and self-serving.
In short, they had lost the foundation of their identity, the strength of their convictions, and they floundered.
Eventually, Jerusalem was conquered by the powerful Babylonian army. The people were taken as hostages, away from their home, into Babylon. In their exile, it seems there were some false prophets who rose up among them. These false prophets proclaimed that the exile would be short, that they would soon be returned to their homeland and all would be well. But Jeremiah knew it wouldn’t be so, and he know the people would not be well-served by these false hopes. So he wrote them a letter.
Jeremiah told them to build houses to live in, plant gardens to eat from, and raise children. He told them to take wives for their sons and give their daughters in marriage. He told them to seek the welfare of the place where God has sent them. In other words, expect to be there awhile.
Jeremiah prophesied that it would be 70 years before the Lord would come to them, and only then would bring them back to their home, Jerusalem. 70 years.
“I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” These are the words of the Lord to the people of Israel while they are in exile. God has plans for them, but will take about 70 years, that is to say, a lifetime to bring them about. So build your houses, plant your gardens, raise your children and expect grandchildren in your exile. I am making you a promise, but it will be your grandchildren who will see the promise fulfilled.
It is a message that speaks directly to Israel in exile, but it speaks just as well to all people in all times and places. We must live our lives, care for one another, tend our gardens now, while holding fast to our faith in God who holds out before us a future with hope and healing.
We know that our individual gifts and works cannot meet every need. But we believe that when we are faithful in our efforts God works through us. That when our desires are in tune with God’s desires for the world, God will bring us together to accomplish things – things that do make a difference.
We see it happen. Each of the grants awarded is given to a project that is already underway. These are efforts that people have already begun working on, and the Presbyterian Women are making it possible for them to do more. And it all begins in the local congregations, where individuals put their checks into an envelope to give a thank offering to the Lord.
We know that we can work together to show God’s care for people who need that care.
We do this work because it is the church’s work. It is foundational to our identity to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, befriend the immigrant. To work for peace is the work of the church.
We do it because this is what we learn from the entirety of the scriptures, both Old and New Testaments. We do it because when we remember who we are, and whose we are, we know that this is what we are about.
We do it even though we don’t expect the results we want to see. Like the exiles in Babylon, we know that we probably won’t see the things we hope for in our lifetime. But just like the exiles in Babylon, we hope that our grandchildren might.
So we do it for love – love for those who have come before who taught us how to give, love for those who labor in the vineyards with us today, love for the poor ones God has put in our midst, and love for the generations to come. And, as the scriptures say:
“Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord.”
May we remember who we are.
May we know the plans God has for us, for our welfare, for a future with hope.
May we seek the Lord with all our heart, in the confidence that we will find God.
