We Don’t Get to Control God

I was in a class this last week where we were discussing a case study about suicide. In our case study, a teenager and member of a local protestant church had taken his own life. The local high school was adrift with all kinds of religious notions about what would happen to this boy and members of the boy’s youth group approached their pastor with questions. Primarily they were concerned about the things that they heard from other kids at school about how he was going to hell for taking his own life.


Our class is designed to allow future pastors to compare different religious traditions in order to understand how different faiths respond to real world situations. One of my peers bravely outlined how she would respond pastorally in this situation, calling attention to this boy’s baptism and how he was accepted by God through his baptism and nothing, not even suicide can take that away. Rightly assessing that her youth would be concerned about their own salvation in that moment, she would also reassure her young parishioners that they too are part of God’s care through their baptism and that there is nothing they can do to separate themselves from God’s love.

As helpful as I imagine this would be for the youth in her congregation, I couldn’t stop thinking, what happens when these kids go back to school? So I asked, “What happens when they share their new found certainty with their friends, many of whom are likely to be un-baptized?” Another classmate had an answer for that question, “Well,” he said, “hopefully this will be what they need to compel them to be baptized.”

Just so you know, I didn’t even have to respond to that comment. It caused such a visceral response from the rest of the class. But here’s the thing…I was that un-baptized kid. I was the one in school who during moments of crisis would listen to all of my friends talk about how they were saved. By virtue of omission, I was not. And do you know what that made me want to do? It made me want to discount the validity of the Christian faith. It made it null and void in my life. If for reasons I couldn’t control, I was not important to God, then God didn’t exist. God wasn’t for me.

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’ When he saw them, he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, ‘Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ Then he said to him, ‘Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.’ Luke 17:11-19 (NRSV)

When I read the passage from Luke 17:11-19 this morning, my heart went out to the Samaritan in the story. I know that he is lifted up as the faithful foreigner, but my initial thought was, how disheartening it must have been to approach Jesus for help and to be told, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’

His wounded companions would have turned towards the temple in eager anticipation of being healed, but the Samaritan was not welcome at the temple. The Samaritan was not welcomed by the priests. Can you imagine what must have been foremost on his mind? From where will my help come? What happens when the priests refuse to heal me? Will I be alone and sick forever?

But along with the others he went and as they went, they were all healed. At that moment, it was the temple outsider who could see clearly that it was neither the priests nor the temple, but Jesus who had healed him. He promptly turned back falling at Jesus’ feet to offer his gratitude.

How often do those of us inside the tradition cling to our tradition to save us? How often do we turn to our rituals and practices for easy answers? And in so doing, how often do we send the message to those outside of the faith that because they do not have the same practices, because they are not part of the tradition, they do not matter to God?

Nine lepers in today’s passage clung to their tradition and were made whole. They were healed just like the Samaritan. But, for the Samaritan, who had neither tradition nor religious home, the only place he could turn was to Jesus. And Jesus declared that it was that alone that had made him whole. God’s grace and healing are offered to everyone and our rituals and traditions cannot claim exclusive rights.

We don’t get to control God.

When we practice our faith, let us practice it with the understanding that we live in a world that is filled with all kinds of traditions, all kinds of people, and all kinds of lifestyles. Let’s not make ours the tradition that closes off for good the message of God’s love for all.