In the Name of God:  Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Well, here we go again . . . another one of those familiar, seemingly “easy” Gospel texts that has caused me all sorts of trouble this week.  Jesus says, "Don't worry.  Don't worry.  Don't worry."  Yeah, right!  Look at the world around us . . . how can we not worry, for heaven's sake?!?  Everything seems to be falling apart.  Some days, after listening to the news, I begin to wonder if the end times are really approaching, and if I should be on the lookout for the anti-Christ.

But, truthfully, that wasn't my real problem.

The real problem is that I started wonder how people in various life situations might hear today's text.  I think that today's Gospel story could sound very different to different people, depending on where they’re standing when they hear it.  Let me try to explain what I mean:  Many of us here this morning are pretty comfortable.  Oh, I know, believe me, I know, that life isn’t perfect for any of us . . . we all have worries and anxieties, we all have challenges to face, I know . . . but many of us here today are fundamentally okay:  We don’t have to worry about whether or not we’re going to eat today, or whether or not we have a place to sleep.  That’s what I mean when I say that we’re fundamentally okay.  And from that stand point today’s Gospel doesn't cause such a problem. 

From that stand point, today's Gospel is a good reminder to make certain that our priorities are in order.  It’s a reminder that, as we face our challenges, we need to keep from being consumed by them.  We need to remember that, as Jesus puts it so well, we cannot add a single hour to our span of life by worrying.  God knows about our problems and challenges, God knows what we need; God will help us; but we need to strive for the Kingdom of God first.  As I said, for many of us, this is a good reminder to keep our priorities in order.

But what if we’re not fundamentally okay?  How does today’s Gospel look from that point of view?  What if we DO have to worry about whether or not we’re gonna eat today?  What if we DO have to worry about where we’re gonna sleep tonight?  How THEN do we hear today’s text?  Those questions really started to bother me last week.  From the point of view of people who are not certain that they're gonna eat today, today's message that we shouldn't worry so much - look at how well God feeds the birds and clothes the lilies - Jesus' message could sound cavalier . . . even cruel.  And that’s nothing like the Jesus I know.  So what’s goin’ on?

Well, I have a couple of ideas to propose to you.  My first idea is that Jesus may be reminding us that we are more - much more - than our problems and challenges, no matter how serious those problems and challenges may be.  We all know how easy it is to be consumed by something that's worrying us.  That word 'consumed' is a good one . . . because when something's eating at us, when we don't seem to be able to think about anything else other than a particular trouble, it can seem like there's nothing left of us but our problem.  We're . . . consumed.

Just the other day I was reminded of a practice that's called "taking inventory."  I'm not talking about making an inventory of a store's goods . . . although what I'm talking about is a little bit like that.  What I'm referring to is a practice I learned about years ago that's a preparation for meditation . . . it's about taking an internal inventory.  Here's how it's done - it's really pretty simple - you get yourself settled - like you're going to meditate - but before beginning you shut your eyes and ask yourself if there's anything in your life that's keeping you from being completely happy and at peace.  Obviously, we would all say, "Yes!"  So you name that thing that's bothering you and then you see if you can let go of it . . . just for a little while. 

Can you imagine setting down this problem for a little while?  Maybe putting it on the floor next to you, or over on a table across the room.  You can assure your problem that you'll pick it back up when you've finished with your meditation.  Once you've set down this problem, you ask yourself that question again:  "Is there anything in my life that's keeping me from being completely happy and at peace?"  And you name the next problem, and you see if you can set THAT down.  You keep doing this until you've named, and set down, every problem you can think of.  And then you might also ask yourself if there's anything in your life that overwhelms you with joy . . . and you see if you can let go of THAT, as well.  And THEN you're ready to meditate.

Now, obviously, this process can take quite a while sometimes.  But once you've finished naming and putting down ALL your problems . . . and maybe even some of your joys . . . you'll notice something very important and quite liberating.  The person instructing me in this practice years ago told me to take a few moments before doing anything else to notice that I was still there, even though I'd put down all of my troubles and worries.  I, me, Max was there, sitting in my chair, SEPARATE from all the things I'd named, all those things that I carry around with me all of the time.  Now, I know that this may all sound too "new-agey" for some of you . . . but it works!  When I REALLY do this, it shows me that I am NOT my problems . . . I am separate from my problems.  I can literally FEEL it, physically.

I betcha, that every single one of us here this morning, has lost track of themselves at some point.  At some point in our lives, I betcha that every single one of us has so identified with a problem - or perhaps a happiness! - that in a way we've BECOME that problem or happiness.  And this business of taking an inventory can remind us that we are ever so much MORE than our problems . . . more than even our happiness . . . we are children of God.

I have a feeling that Jesus is reminding us in today's lesson that - whatever our stand point in life, whatever challenges we face - we are MORE, ever so much MORE than the appurtenances of our lives.  We are not what we own, or where we live, or what we do for a living . . . we are MORE than these things.  We are not where we're from, or where we went to school, or even who our families are . . . we are MORE than these things.  And we are not defined by what we have done, or by what has been done to us . . . we are not defined even by what we hope to do . . . we are much more that these things, as well.  We are the beloved children of God.

And this brings me to my second thought about what Jesus is doing in today's story.  Jesus is reminding us that, like a loving, doting parent, God watches over us . . . God is with us . . . even when we feel alone, even when it seems that God has gone silent.  In our first reading today, from the book of Isaiah, we heard this:  " Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing!  For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones.  But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.'  Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?  Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.  See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands."  I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands.  I think that THAT'S what Jesus is reminding of us today.

I know, I know, that there are times when it can seem like God has abandoned us.  I know how hard it can be to pray . . . to plead . . . to beg . . . and to feel that God has no response.  I know how infinitely slow God's time can feel.  I know.  But the Scriptures selected for today are meant to remind us - perhaps most especially when we're in dire straits - that God is with us.  God loves us.  God will never, NEVER abandon us.  We are God's children; our names are written on the palms of God's hands.  We are cherished!

May none of the clouds of this mortal life hide from you the light of that love which is immortal, the light of Christ.  And no matter what - come what may - may you know that the light of Christ not only surrounds you and bathes you, but that it also burns deep within you.  Know that you are loved.

Amen.

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