SEEK THE WELFARE OF THE CITY

October 10, 2004

Texts – Jeremiah 29: 1, 4-7

Luke 17: 20-21

Rev. Robert Lee

It wasn’t what they wanted to hear.  Not by a long shot.  The one hundred and thirty seventh Psalm [Psalm 137: 1-6] expresses their plight –

“By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept,

When we remembered Zion.

On the willows there we hung up our lyres.

For there our captors required of us songs,

and our tormentors, mirth, saying,

‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!

Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth,

if I do not remember you,

if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy!”

What a painful, homesick lament!  And how does the Lord respond?  “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat (from them)  . . .   Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.” [Jeremiah 29: 4-5, 7]  Not exactly what they had in mind, was it?

Here’s a woman lost in sorrow – suddenly alone after nearly twenty years of marriage with the man who was her childhood sweetheart.  She feels abandoned and cut off, yearning to escape the desolate land called divorce  . . .  called widowhood  . . .  call it what you will, it is exile.  Or again, here is a man stuck at mid-life.  His career has peaked at what looks for all the world like a plateau.  Day after day he feels flat at work; the head-hunters don’t call anymore.  He goes home at night only to feel empty inside.  Call it a mid-life crisis  . . .  call it what you will.  Exile is what it is.

No one has a claim on this.  We are all invited to share in it.  Not all the time, thank God, but more often than we’d like.  Hasn’t that been true for you?  Have you been to Babylon and sat down and wept?  I have.  Haven’t we all?

And when you’re in that empty place, isn’t escape your fondest dream?  Someone will come to rescue you  . . .  someone will call to challenge you  . . .  something will happen to deliver you.  Isn’t that what we think?  What we hope?  What we pray for?  The absolute last thing we want to hear is – “Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat (from them)  . . .   Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.”

There’s a wonderful passage in the Letter of Paul to Titus.  It is not a frequently cited text in most churches.  It’s one of those short little snippets of a letter that is tacked on at the end of the New Testament’s collection of Paul’s epistles.  Titus was one of Paul’s earliest companions, and he was evidently one of his most trusted emissaries.  Twice he was sent by the Apostle on urgent missions to Corinth in order to restore harmony between that church and its founding pastor.  Later, Paul sent him to the island of Crete to organize the Christian community there.

Paul writes to him, and evidently he does so in response to a letter that Titus has written him.  We don’t have a copy of that first epistle, but we can surmise its content.  Titus is chomping at the bit.  “Things here are just awful,” I imagine he said.  “The church is really a complete mess.  They are constantly fighting amongst themselves.  About the only thing they can agree on is their mutual dislike for me.  The only reason I’m still here is because you asked me to come, but really it’s a waste of time.  Just say the word and I’ll gladly take on any new assignment you might have.”

And so Paul writes back to him, and he doesn’t mince any words.  “This is why I left you in Crete,” he starts out,

“that you might amend what was defective . . .   One of themselves, a prophet of their own, said, ‘Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, (and) lazy gluttons.’  This testimony is true.  Therefore rebuke them  . . .  teach what befits sound doctrine  . . .  so that those who have believed in God may be careful to apply themselves to good deeds.” [Titus 1: 5, 12-13; 2: 1; 3: 8]

Instead of freeing him and releasing him from his place of exile, Paul says to Titus – Settle in.  “Build houses and live in them,” he says in so many words; “plant gardens and eat (from them)  . . .   Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.”

Sounds like a theme.  Is it one you need to hear?

Oh, there’s nothing quite so alluring as the thought of escape when you are in Babylon.  We do long, don’t we, to be delivered  . . .  rescued  . . .  transported out of exile into homecoming.  But it’s a slippery slope from here to there.  I love the greeting card I ran across years ago which said: “Beware the man who comes riding in on a white horse to rescue you  . . .   You may have to clean up after his horse once he’s gone!”  Or how about that old admonishment from folklore, “Don’t jump from the frying pan into the fire”?

“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat (from them)  . . .   Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.”   Stop looking back, in other words.  Let go of regret and resentment.  Settle in.  Settle down.  Turn your face toward the tasks of this day.  Bloom where you are planted.

Hardly profound, but it is profoundly hard to do.  Two things can help.  First, underline the phrase – “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.” Where I have sent you.  Might it be that the place of exile you are in  . . .  might it be God’s doing that you are in it?  Oh not in any simplistic way.  It is exceedingly unhelpful to ascribe responsibility to God for all the bad things that happen to us.  God does not cause our marriages to break apart.  God does not intend that our careers should prematurely dead end.  Indeed, I think God’s heart breaks right along with all of ours when those things happen.  Nevertheless, when I have found myself in such places of exile, it has been especially helpful for me to remember that my life is still wrapped up in the loving arms of God, and that this new place – lonely and empty though it surely feels at the time – is in fact “the city where God has sent me.”  And I can say, looking back, that in every case there were lessons to be learned in that place.  In every instance, there was important and necessary work to be done.  And though I longed to be rescued, something in me knew I needed to build houses and plant gardens and live my life in exactly that place.

“Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you.”   In his Letter to the Romans, Paul writes – In everything God works together for good with those who love God.  In everything  . . .   Including, and perhaps even especially, in those times of exile when we feel alone and abandoned.      I know there are young people this morning champing at the bit to get out of school and get on with life.  They are tired of waiting.  Tired of paying their dues.  Tired of jumping through hoops so that some day someone will give them a simple piece of paper.  How do I know that?  Because I can still remember feeling that!  Many of us can!  But many of us can also testify that those years of what oftentimes felt like “enforced waiting” were in fact enormously important years of growth and maturity and learning.  Though we did not see it then, we know now that they were absolutely critical years. 

So “seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you” can serve for us as a reminder that our lives are ever in the hands of a loving God, and that nothing happens to us without there being within it a kernel of God’s liberating spirit working to mold and shape what we will become.  But then a second phrase needs to be lifted up alongside it – “for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” In its welfare you will find your welfare  . . .

Those who languished in Babylon, heartsick and homesick and full of despair, were certain they knew where they could find their welfare.  It was in Zion, David’s royal city, home of their ancestors and of their longing.  “Wrong!” says the prophet.  “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

Might that mean for those in exile in the land of loneliness that the source of your well being and happiness is not “somewhere out there.”  It does not lie in the arms of someone who comes to rescue you, but rather is already present deep within you.  And might it mean for those whose career dreams have sputtered and died that your happiness is not “somewhere afar off” in a new job or a new challenge but rather that the key to it is already present right where you are?

“The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed,” Jesus said; “nor will they say, ‘Lo, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.” [Luke 17: 20-21]  Not out there in his arms, nor over there with her  . . .   Not in that new position with greater management responsibilities, nor in this new venture with its promise of wealth and fame.  “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”             Now that does not mean that anyone must turn her back on what is new and challenging and promising; not at all.  But what it does mean is that unless and until we have done the hard work, the serious work, the demanding work of “seeking the welfare of the city  . . .  of the place  . . .  of the person we are,” we can never really enter into that which is truly new and life giving.

Do you remember the wardrobe advice given by Ralph Waldo Emerson?  “Beware of any new enterprise that requires new clothes and not rather a new wearer of clothes,” he said.  “If there is not a new person, how can the new clothes be made to fit?  If you have any new enterprise before you, try it first in your old clothes.”  Now it’s not going to get you rave reviews in a fashion magazine, but it just might save you a wealth of heartbreak if you apply it to your life.

“Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat (from them)  . . .   Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”   Amen.