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"Passionate Faith" by Rev. Charles Hoffman
June 16, 2002 Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
Romans 5:1-8 Jeremiah 20:7-13

William L. Stidger wrote a poem entitled I Have Come Back From the Mountains –

I have come back from the mountains
Back from the snow-white peaks,
Back from the crimson sunsets
With opal and golden streaks.

Back from the glacial torrents,
Tumultuous, mad moraines;
Back from the twilight canyons
And whispering wind refrains.

Leaving behind the horizons
And waterfalls whipped to spray;
Back from the cliff's sheer reaches
Where shadows of eagles play.

Back from the pine tree's incense,
Back from the river songs;
Back to the beat of traffic
And surging human throngs.

Back – but I'm bringing with me
Vision, and song, and scent;
Visions of glacial canyons
And aspens in worship bent.

Highways of far horizons
Forever my feet have trod –
For I have come back from the mountains
And climbing the trails with God.

Running guru, George Sheehan, wrote a piece for Runner's World in which he said that "our lives must contain mountains or marathons or their equivalents or else we will not be sure if we have reached our potential" (Runner's World, May 1989).

Everyone needs something that gets their juices flowing, something that stretches them, that pulls them beyond what they might have thought were their limits. Without such passion we start the downward spiral. With it we open our lives to transformation and growth. Sheehan said, "The person who descends from a mountain is not the same person who began the ascent" (Runner's World, May 1989).

The mountain is a metaphor for any strenuous, deeply felt challenge that you choose to follow in life. And if you've ever climbed such a mountain you know what he means. The person who came down is different than the person who went up.

I suspect we've all felt that way about certain things. In fact, I believe that the ability to feel so deeply is a great gift. Unfortunately, most of us lose touch with this part of ourselves prematurely. As Mark Twain might have said, we have had the everlasting aspirations knocked out of us long before our time.

In recent times I have found myself scanning the obituary pages of the newspaper. You know, it's always comforting to start the day knowing that your name is not on the list! But what I've noticed is that passionate people live longer than dispassionate ones. At least that's what it seems like to me. Time after time I notice that those who have pushed the limits of science and art and even religion live to a great age.

I know this is anecdotal evidence and I know that there are exceptions, but I believe it's true. Those who keep the fires of life burning make it deeper into the night. Not only that, they go there in much greater style.

Now the lesson that we read from the Old Testament gives us a good example of what it looks like for a person to be possessed by zeal and ardor and desire, and maybe even a borderline mania for life. Jeremiah is the man. He lived in the sixth century B.C.E. He was a prophet of God who preached to the people of Judah and Jerusalem. He did his best to avert disaster but the people didn't listen to him. They fell under the ruthless domination of the Babylonians.

But before that happened, Jeremiah spoke up for the Lord. That's basically what prophets do. They speak up. But it wasn't easy. In fact, it landed Jeremiah in trouble. He tried to make it plain. Tried to warn them about what would happen if they didn't straighten out their way of life. Jeremiah knew that his people were on a slippery slope toward Babylonian exile. But instead of listening to their prophet, the people took offense and got angry. So they beat up Jeremiah and put him in the stocks overnight.

Now in the time that followed, Jeremiah lamented his plight as the one called to speak the truth to a wayward people. And the passage that we read today is part of that lament. It is a classic example of the stark tones of honest prayer. That's how they used to pray in those days. They spoke their minds. Listen:

O Lord, thou hast deceived me, and I was deceived; thou art stronger than I, and thou hast prevailed.
I have become a laughingstock all the day; every one mocks me. . . For the word of the Lord has become for me a reproach and derision all day long.

You see, there's even a lesson on passion in Jeremiah's prayer. He shoots from the hip. He tells the Lord exactly how he feels. He feels cheated, deceived, overwhelmed and taken advantage of. Not only by the people, but by God as well! I tell you, that's good praying because it's honest.

But there's more. Jeremiah implies that he might as well save his breath. For all the good it's doing him, he might as well never even mention the Lord or even speak his name anymore. But he can't do it. He can't keep still. No matter how hard he tries he just can't keep his mouth shut. Whenever he tries to bite his tongue and be quiet about what he knows to be true he fails. He can't quench this unsettling passion he feels for the word of the Lord. Listen again:

. . . there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.

There is something within that he cannot extinguish, a lust for life that he can't ignore, a thirst he can't quench, a mountain he's just got to climb. There's even a cross that is worth dying on. That's the sort of thing that happens when life gets hold of you. If I try to hold it in I'll burst. It's like a fire in my bones. It reminds me of the way John Killinger described a man he once knew. He said that the man talked like a hillbilly with his pants on fire.

Well, that's pretty graphic and I think it might suggest how it was for Jeremiah and his relationship with the word that the Lord had laid deep upon his heart.

But shouldn't we all feel that way? I think so. You see, when we choose to follow Jesus we adopt his language. I mean to say that we give vent to this fire within by using certain words. Jeremiah and Jesus both spoke the language. And it's supposed to be our first language, too, the one in which we think and out of which we act. This new language puts a premium on words such as justice and peace and kindness and generosity and love, especially love. Because if you trace the etymology of this new tongue you will find that it always takes you back to love. More specifically, it takes you back to passionate love. Listen to the reading from the Letter to the Romans: Romans is very clear. It says that God was so passionately in love with us that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us (Romans 5:8).

What that means is that God's heart was moved to love us supremely when we weren't very lovable. We were wallflowers but God came courting us anyway.

Now here's the thing. Passionate living won't always make sense. Here's a good example. As most of you here this morning know, there was a group of us from the church that went to Yosemite National Park last week. There were over twenty people in the group. We went to Yosemite so that we could hike to the top of the park's signature mountain, Half Dome. I thought we would use the dome as an altar on which we would observe Holy Communion.

Now one of the hikers who had a passion to get to the top of Half Dome was Dr. Willie Brown. Ever since he'd almost made it about a decade ago he had this burr under his saddle. He had to do it.

Now let's be clear. The trail from the valley to Half Dome is eight and a half miles. . . straight up. That's a total of seventeen miles round trip. By the way, I happen to know that one of our members, John Heizer, has scaled the face of Half Dome.

But I'm not talking about John; I'm talking about Willie. And I'm glad to say that Willie made it. He made it to the top! It was a great experience. But before we started the long hike back to the valley Willie had a speech to make. He made it for my benefit. He told me this. He said, When I get back to valley floor I'm not going to stop. I'm going to walk right past the cafeteria, right past the showers, right past the tent cabins and right to my car. And I'm going to get into my car, start the engine, and drive. And I'm going to stop at the first insane asylum and check myself in!

That's nothing! You should have heard what he said when I told him I'd done the hike nineteen times!

Passionate living won't always make sense. It will make you do things you wouldn't dream of doing. But I can tell you this: at breakfast the next morning you'll feel as though you've conquered Everest. And the pain of aching muscles, if nothing else, will assure you that you are still alive. Passionate living will force you to take risks. It will put you into situations you would rather have avoided. Sometimes it will change the whole direction of your life.

Ernest Shackleton had a passion to be the first to reach the South Pole. Someone got there before him. Then he had a passion to be the first to walk across the continent of Antarctica. He got trapped in the ice before he ever got there. But it wasn't until that moment that he found the greatest and noblest passion of his life, which was to save the lives of his men.

He did it. It took him nearly two years and he gave everything he had to fulfill it. He died soon after it was over, but it was his finest moment and it's the thing for which he is most remembered.

Now here's the question I want to leave with you this morning: Where is the passion in your faith? Maybe I should say, Where is the passion in your life? I'm not sure but maybe it's the same question. I do know that you can't separate faith and life in the Christian view of things.

I know that some of you may have put out the fire so many times that it's hard to get it going again. I pray that God will speak his exciting word to your heart, that God will give you a cause that pulls you out of yourself until you find the fullness of life of which Jesus spoke.

I know also that some of you have found it. For one person it's a deep sensitivity to social justice. I know who you are, but more importantly, God knows who you are. For others it's a heroic commitment to children and youth. I see this hunger of the heart in those of you who are constantly restless for peace in the world. I recognize it in those of you who have cast your lot with the poor and the underprivileged.

I know that it isn't always easy. But I want you to remember the fire in Jeremiah's bones. He tried to be quiet but it didn't work. So don't surrender those deep feelings.

Finally, remember this:

The mountain that you choose to climb will transform you. You won't be the same person coming down that you were going up. The mountain that you choose to climb might break you. But it will also make you.

When the poet William Stidger got back from the mountain he said that he brought something back with him. And what he brought back was vision, and song, and scent.

I tell you, it's worth the trip. Amen.

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