“Know Your Place

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

O God: The Psalms— Praise & Thanks

July 23, 2023

Psalm 8

Children’s Message:

Balloons are fantastic, aren’t they? You can use them for so many things! What do you like to use balloons for? Decorations, batting around in the air, making animals.

But this flimsy thing doesn’t work like this, does it? What do I need to do to make it work? I need to blow it up! You know, we’re a little like this balloon. We get a little ‘puffed up’ when we start to think we’re better than someone else. Maybe we’re super good at sports. Or we’re really smart. Or we’re talented at music. These are all great things to be…until we start acting like we’re more valuable than others.

And the more we get puffed up, the more likely we are to *pop*.

Today, we read a Psalm about how when we consider the whole universe, we’re really quite small. And yet, God loves each of us SOOO much. Not because of what we’re good at or because we’re somehow better at something than someone else. God loves us because we are God’s children. There’s nothing we can do can make God love us more. And there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less.

So, we don’t need to puff ourselves up like a balloon to be valuable and important to God’s work.

Let’s pray. Dear God, thank you for giving us things we do well and things we can’t do at all. Remind us that you love us through it all. Amen.

Message:

The story goes that an American ship noticed another vessel on their radar during a night voyage, and they radioed ahead, saying, “Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.” The other vessel responded, “Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees South to avoid a collision.”

Ever the leader, the American vessel came back, “This is the Captain of a US Navy Vessel. I say again, divert your course,” to which came the response, “No. I say again, you must divert YOUR course.”

Affronted, the American came back, “This is the aircraft carrier USS Lincoln, the second largest ship in the United States’ Atlantic fleet. We are accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers, and numerous support vessels. I demand that YOU change your course 15 degrees north, that’s one five degrees north, or countermeasures will be undertaken to ensure the safety of this ship.”

There was a pause, and then the captain heard over the radio, “This is a lighthouse. Your call.”

It’s an urban legend—a myth. But the point remains. It’s important to know our place in the world. The Psalmist recognizes this by looking at the sky and feeling so small in this vast universe. And as we know and understand more about the universe, the more we realize how little we know. The numbers of stars with planets that orbit them as we do our sun. The galaxies that swirl and spin. The way the edges—if one can say the universe has edges—continue to expand. It’s mind-blowing.

And then there’s us. These insignificant people on this minor planet, orbiting around this basic sun in the midst of this average galaxy. It doesn’t take much to understand the question that the Psalmist poses to God: what makes us so special that you even bother with us? In fact, it seems we do our level best to ensure the destruction of our planet and its inhabitants. Daily mass shootings, multiple wars, climate change, a global pandemic.

It is the sin of humanity at work—placing ourselves in the role of God because we simply don’t trust God’s love for us. We touched on it last week: “Be still, then, and know that I am God.” But it’s hard for us to relinquish control. It’s difficult to place our trust in one we cannot see or hear or touch.

This Psalm is part of the first set of five psalms. Further broken down, it is the central piece that links Psalms 3-7 and 9-14. In 3-7, David cries out that he is powerless against the forces that defy God and threaten his life. He calls on God to hear his plea and set up a refuge for him. In Psalms 9-14, similar cries come from the people that join David in calling on God for vindication against their enemies. They are the weak and oppressed.

And smack in the middle is this Psalm. In it, the Psalmist says that God uses infants and children to establish the fortress and silence the foes. God chooses the weak and elevates the powerless. The purpose is to live the life of the chosen—the anointed—the Messiah, as promised in Psalms 1-2.

And we see the trajectory of the Messiah when Jesus comes on the scene. Rather than the mighty stallion, he rides a donkey into Jerusalem. Though the establishment humiliates and murders him as an example to any who would defy human power, God exalts him. God raises him from the dead. God sets him as an example of humble might—a servant king. God shows us that true power looks far different than what we expect—than what we often seek. In fact, I would suggest that the power wielded by humanity—the power that destroys forests and uses child soldiers, the power that tells lies and shuts down love, the power that bans books and starts wars—that power always comes from fear.

It comes from fear that God will never love humanity simply because we are so insignificant. It comes from a panic that we aren’t valuable enough to save unless we prove ourselves worthy. It comes from the idea that in this vast universe, God might change God’s mind and turn God’s heart to someone else—somewhere else. What are mere mortals that you are mindful of us? Who are we that you would care for us?

And yet, the Psalmist reminds us—as they remind David and all who are oppressed—God’s power comes from love, not fear. God works through the weak. God exalts the powerless. God chooses the small to confront the mighty. The irony, of course, is that when we seek our own power to control our own world in fear that God won’t be there when we need God, we set ourselves up as the mighty—those whom the powerless will confront.

As Mary sang so long ago, “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Our efforts at power always backfire. Empires fall. The mighty are overthrown. But the love of God remains. God is steadfast. God is the lighthouse, calling us to redirect our course. And our credentials—all the things that we amass to bring us pride, strength, and value—will not change the fact that we are not God. That kind of power in our hands is always destructive.

And yet, God has placed in our hands this universe and this world to care for. Who are we that you would give us this kind of power? I’ve frequently asked who thought it was a good idea to put me in charge of a congregation. Whose brilliant idea was it to make me a parent of such an amazing child? What if I screw it all up?

But that’s the right question to ask. It’s asked out of a recognition of our place in the world—our humility. As soon as I think I’ve got a handle on everything, that’s when it falls apart. God is God. I am not. I, however, am a beloved, valuable, precious, child of God. You are beloved, valuable, precious children of God. Nothing can change that. And no, it doesn’t make any logical sense. To look at us, we’re a liability. And yet, God has chosen humanity. God has chosen you. Against all odds, here we are. And we stand in awe.

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is YOUR name in all the earth!

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE