Rev. George Miller
Aug 23, 2026
Jeremiah 29:11
Faith in Christ does not mean a carefree
life. In Matthew 16, Peter declares to
Jesus “You are the Messiah…Son of the Living God!”
To which Jesus says “Blessed are you Simon...You
get the keys of the kingdom of heaven.”
Wow!
Could there be a cooler set of keys; sounds like life is now easy street! Except, as Simon soon learns, holding the
keys to heaven does not stop life from life-ing. It does not prevent Peter from beatings or imprisonment.
What good are holding the keys if it
doesn’t keep you crises free?
Jeremiah 29:11 says “surely I know the
plans I have for you, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a
future with hope.” Did God have plans
for Peter? Why did he endure harm?
…I have a confession to make- being a
person of Christian faith is not always easy.
There is the idea that if you are a person of faith, every day should be
easy, every moment filled with joy, your trust in God unmovable and assured whenever wherever whatever.
Sometimes we construct an idea that as a
person of faith we should always be happy; our first waking words- “Glory be to
the Highest!”
But the truth is that people of faith are
still people. We get cold when it’s
cold. Hungry when we’re hungry. Weather affects our moods. Housekeeping can feel overwhelming.
Being a person of Christian faith does not
mean every obstacle is easily averted or every ailment is instantly healed. It does not mean if we prayed harder,
believed more, martyred ourselves enough times that all things will be OK.
Sometimes being a Christian of faith is
saying “Lord, I’m tired, I’m tired.”
Sometimes it’s admitting that our bodies are not what they used to
be.
Sometimes it’s standing still and saying
“Jesus, God, Holy Spirit, is it Ok if I just rest in your arms?”
Because the chores will wait. The need to sacrifice ourselves and please
others is often an illusion…
…Since March, I’ve been on path to healing.
The past 2 years have been a time of pain and mortality.
It breaks my heart that you have not truly
met the George who wistfully goes everywhere, doing all things, dances easily,
and is always tan from being in the sun.
Turns out that once your legs no longer “leg”
your relationship with the world changes.
Is stepping onto the sidewalk worth the pain? When did lawns become dangerous fields of
tree roots?
My arthritis was so bad that going
downstairs to do laundry or stepping into the shower felt like horror movies. The pain so excruciating that I tried to
avoid putting on socks; every act of sitting down and standing up hurt.
Thank God for health insurance. For neighbors who looked after me. For your support.
This time of healing has been an enriching
one. Instead of pushing my body beyond
its limits by Superman-ing it, I opted to “listen”- rest when my body said “rest”,
ice when it said “ice”.
It meant feeling sad when I was sad. Annoyed when the bathroom called for the 4th
time in 40 minutes. In other words- real.
Though trouble lasted the night, joy has
come in the morning.
Sunday, I braved the stairs to do laundry
and when I stepped on that first step-nothing. No pain, hurt or grimacing.
Just the feeling of my foot on a flat surface.
It was so unfamiliar. For 2 years every single step down the stairs
caused pain. I had grown used to it,
afraid of it, my mind always bracing my body for it. Now I get to rewire my brain so that steps are
no longer seen as a horror film.
Then Monday- stepping barefoot on the grass. It’s been a year since I’ve walked barefoot
outside. Too dangerous, unstable.
But Monday I got to feel it- green lush Missouri
grass kissing my soles. I forgot how
that felt.
Now, Jeremiah 29 has some truth- plans
to unfold and hope to hold. Oh the places I can go! Wine Country, Ozarks, Botanical Gardens, the
steps of the St. Louis library…even just walking the campus of St. Lucas UCC.
The simple pleasures that healing can
restore. I can’t wait to dilly dally
once again at Home Goods.
Valuable lessons have been learned. Such
as- as bodies age and break down, every aspect of our lives is affected.
No amount of positive thinking changes the
fact that as our bodies change, so does our relationship with the world around
us. How do I minister to a congregation
of bodies now that I know this?
I’ve learned that pain infiltrates every
aspect of our lives, robs our joy, limits what we do, and changes who we are.
As a church, how do we faithfully address
this? When it hurts for folks to put on
socks or take an hour to button a shirt, when attending a Council meeting means
stairs or long, dark hallways?
How does one faithfully lead worship when
pews are low to the ground and invitations to stand up hurts? When the Chancel isn’t easy to navigate if
you are unsteady on your feet?
Today’s scripture says “…I know the plans
I have for you… plans for your welfare…to give you a future with hope.”
Hope.
Not perfection. Not pain free, scar
free, or the way it once was. But hope.
Hope for anyone who knows what it is like
to live day by day.
Hope for those living with chronic pain or
cancer, dealing with depression or bodies that aren’t as they used to be.
Hope for those whose dreams have been
dashed or detoured.
Hope for those in North St. Louis still
recovering from the tornado. Hope for
those in Colombia who have a lifetime of loss to deal with.
Being a person of Christian faith does not
mean every day we are filled with delight and the keys to the kingdom jingle
jangle with joy.
Maybe being a person of Christian faith is
not that we don’t fall, but
that we get back up.
It’s not that we must try harder but that
we try.
Maybe faith is carrying the lessons
learned so that we can be true neighbors,
brothers, and partners.
Maybe being a person of faith is simply
saying “I don’t know what Monday will bring, but I know that God will be there,
somehow, some way and in that I can find hope.”
Amen.
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