Sermon: “Birth Pains”

Text: Romans 8:22-27

Pentecost (B)

May 31, 2009

Scripture introduction.  Our second reading this morning is from Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome.  In this letter Paul sought support for his planned mission to Spain.  Paul, who had never been to Rome, never met the Roman Christians, attempted to introduce himself and his faith to them.  In our passage for this morning, he describes his understanding of the way the Holy Spirit helps us through the hard times—the labor pains—of our lives.  Before setting out for Rome and Spain, Paul intended to go to Jerusalem to complete the delivery to the suffering Christians there of money that he had collected from other Christian churches.[1]  However, as soon as Paul returned to Jerusalem, Jewish leaders accused him of blaspheming and of defiling the temple.[2]  This led to his arrest by the local Roman tribune.  When it was discovered that Paul was a Roman citizen, the tribune placed Paul in protective custody and sent him to the Roman governor in Caesarea Maritima.  This relatively new port city, magnificently constructed a generation before by Herod the Great, was located on the Mediterranean coast of Judea.  The governor, hoping to receive a bribe from Paul, continued to hold him there. 

Finally, Paul appealed formally to the Roman emperor, an action which terminated the jurisdiction of the governor and required Paul’s transport to Rome for a continuation of his trial.  A little over two weeks ago, Amanda and I were standing in ancient Caesarea in the ruins of the governor’s house, the walls and mosaic flooring of which are still clearly visible.  One room is believed to have been an audience room and was probably the very place where Paul appealed to the emperor.  From that room windows look west toward Rome across the Mediterranean Sea.  Several hundred yards north of the palace is the harbor, and the quay from which Paul’s ship departed is still standing.  After a long and difficult sea voyage, Paul finally arrived at Rome—not as a missionary as he had planned, but as a prisoner. 

Sermon.  I guess in a way it’s presumptuous for a male preacher to speak about birth pains.   It’s something we never have experienced.  This was driven home to me when Amanda was in the hospital for Lee’s birth.  Nowadays it’s pretty common, I think, for the fathers to be in the labor and delivery rooms.  Back then it was still a relatively new thing.  I guess I felt even a little proud of myself that I had gone with Amanda to the childbirth classes offered by the hospital.  And I felt a sense of assurance that I knew what to expect.  But by the time we arrived in the labor room, my feeling of security quickly began to evaporate.  First of all—wouldn’t you know it—our doctor was on vacation, replaced temporarily by a doctor we had never met.  More than that, Amanda’s labor was proving to be long, strenuous, and painful.  After she had been in labor for hours, the doctor finally arrived.  I remember how relieved I was when he prescribed a pain-relieving procedure for Amanda. 

As she seemed to quiet down some, I began to regain my sense of security.  When the doctor checked back with us to see how she was doing, I thought she was asleep.  So I responded gratefully and cheerfully, “Thank you doctor.  I think she’s doing much better now.”  It was then that a voice came from down deep within the woman I had assumed incorrectly to be sleeping—my sweet Amanda—a tone of voice I had never heard before:  “No, I’m not!”  From that point on, I tried to stay in the background and let the professionals handle things.  The whole process was difficult and frightening and—for Amanda—painful, but at the end we had Lee, who has been our great joy to this day.

Today our readings and our service are filled with images of birth.  Today is Pentecost, the Greek name of the Jewish festival during which the Holy Spirit fell upon the gathered disciples, as Julia just read from the book of Acts.  It’s the day we often refer to as the “birthday of the church.”  Before Pentecost Jesus had taught and healed and been crucified and was resurrected.  After some additional time with his disciples, he then ascended into heaven, departing from them but promising the comfort of the Holy Spirit, which he would send to them.  On Pentecost Jesus’ promise was fulfilled.  The Holy Spirit turned that band of disciples from tentative followers into energized and effective leaders.  It was the beginning—the birthday—of the Christian church. 

Today we baptize three precious children from our congregation.  They and their families have recently come through the difficult and anxious process of their physical births, and today we formally adopt them into the family of God.  Today will be their birthday in the church.  For all of us who are baptized, this sacrament is not only something for the beginning of our spiritual lives.  Baptism is relevant for us each day as an assurance that despite all the ways we may have fallen short of the mark, new beginnings are still possible.  Baptism is Christ’s pledge to us that new life begins each day.  And finally, at the end of our earthly lives baptism looks forward to our last new birth, that time after our deaths when we will rise to meet Christ and will be born into the spiritual form of our current bodies.

As Paul suggests, and as our own experience confirms, birth and re-birth are often painful.  In Paul’s understanding, we are living in an “in between” time.  On the one hand, we have experienced the love of Christ and know of his resurrection victory over sin and death.  On the other hand, we still see the ravaging effects of sin and death in our lives and in the entire world.  In one sense we have experienced the “already” of Christ, but in another sense our complete salvation—the final arrival of the reign of God—has “not yet” arrived in its fullness.  Living between the “already” and the “not yet,” we are straining—“groaning,” in Paul’s words—for that final victory realized physically in the earth.  As we can see from our text this morning, Paul believed that not only humans, but even the entire physical world, has been subjected to (in his words) “futility” as a result of human sin.  For Christians, who already have received the gift of the Holy Spirit, this longing for the full arrival of God’s reign is especially intense.  Paul says that we “groan inwardly,” waiting for the redemption of our physical bodies.  At this stage in our lives, we are saved by hope—by faith.  By definition, hope and faith relate to the future—to events that we have not yet experienced—not yet “seen.”  That is why patience and perseverance are required of Christians. 

The “already” experiences we have had as Christians give rise to hope and faith.  As Scott Paul-Bonham told us yesterday in the service of blessing for our graduates, when we look into the eyes of our newborn child and experience that child as God’s gift to us—a gift of love and responsibility—we begin to understand the depths of God’s love for us as children of God.  When we read or hear preached the teachings of Jesus and our inner spirit responds with the affirmation that the world he describes—a world in which everyone is everyone else’s neighbor—is the way the world really should be.  When we feel the connection between two spirits that results when a kindness is given and received, we know that the event has eternal significance—that the angels are watching and cheering us on.  You all, collectively, are an “already” experience for me.  When I see the way you cooperate in the work of the church, the way you give to our mission, the way you have supported our plans to renovate the church building, I see the Holy Spirit working in our church.  It is these “already” moments that feed our faith and lead us to the hope that saves.

Of course, we also experience the “not yet” moments, too.  The newspaper and television declare each day the tangled failings of humankind and the dangers of the natural world.  The perils and losses of war touch our own congregation.  Accidents—often unavoidable—claim life and limb.  The specter of disease haunts our lives.  Economic forces, over which we seem to have no control, make our futures seem undependable and insecure.  Estrangement between friends and family members and church members challenges our hope and our faith.  Bad decisions that we wish we could erase continue to affect our lives—putting us in holes we know it will be hard to climb out of. 

But for Paul the story does not end simply with the tension between the “already” and the “not yet.”  As he assures us, “the Spirit helps us in our weakness.”  This is none other than the Spirit of the Holy God, who spoke through the ancient prophets.  This is the Spirit of the Risen Christ.  The ascension of Jesus, which removed him from the physical world, we may experience as a loss.  However, it is in fact our gain, for now he is not limited to a particular place and time.  By the Holy Spirit, his living presence is now spiritually available to the whole world and for all time.  And this includes us.  When we are so caught up in the “not yet” that we can hardly remember the “already,”  when we don’t even know what to pray for our how to pray, the Holy Spirit knows—and prays—prays for us in wordless prayers, straight to and straight from the heart of God.

When Paul was sitting in Corinth, writing his letter to the Romans, telling them that he wanted to visit them on his way to Spain, he could not have known that two years later he would sailing to Rome as a prisoner.  The Bible does not tell us much about what happened to Paul after he made it to Rome.  If he ever made it to Spain, there is no report of it.  But whatever the circumstances of Paul’s life, in all of his trials and challenges, the Holy Spirit was always present and helping.  And we know the same is true for us.

Today we celebrate the energizing power of the Holy Spirit who is the midwife of all our births and re-births, helping us through the pain and helping us embrace the joy.  By the power of the Spirit, today we celebrate the “already.”