Prisoners of Hope: Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 - Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

[Jesus spoke to the crowd saying:] ¹⁶“To what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,
 ¹⁷‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
  we wailed, and you did not mourn.’
¹⁸For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; ¹⁹the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
  ²⁵At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; ²⁶yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. ²⁷All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
  ²⁸“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. ²⁹Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (NRSV)

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About a week ago, I came across a viral video on my Facebook news feed…  A man climbs into the passenger seat of a car, and he’s crying.  He says to the male driver, “bad news, bro…  I got a disease.”

The driver asks him if it’s cancer or AIDS, and he says “no, bro.  I’m addicted to drugs.”  The driver goes ape—and argues that addiction is not a disease, but a weakness.  “A disease isn’t something that you chose to do.  “You chose to put that needle in your arm.”

26 million people saw that video as of Wednesday—and that worries me because of something I learned long ago: nobody wakes up one morning in their perfect life and chooses to become addicted.  There are always other factors in play—which don’t necessarily cause addiction—but certainly facilitate it.  And I’ve never known an addict who’s cured themselves.  And our society’s love for shaming and blaming doesn’t help…

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is accused of being a drunkard—and not because they’ve seen him drunk—but because he eats and drinks with gluttons and drunkards, tax collectors, and sinners.  These are the weary ones carrying heavy burdens that Jesus reaches out to.  These are the ones who cannot help themselves; who have nothing else and no one else. 

Today, Jesus cries out to the addicted—along with those who love them—and the children who depend on them.  When these children of God hear Jesus, where will they go and to whom will they turn?  The answer is simple: his church.  And that is where the challenge comes in.

It’s all too easy for the church to respond to the addicted as everyone else does.  What sets apart addiction from other diseases is that it is because of human weakness.  In America, we don’t like people who are weak.  We don’t like people who make poor choices when they should’ve known better.  We say, “God helps those who help themselves.”  And if someone is suffering the consequences of their own bad choices, why should you or I even feel sorry for them? 

There’s only one problem with that: nobody chooses to become weary and heavy-burdened.  And when you are—you’re not going to make the best choices.  And your ability to make good choices will be diminished if you don’t have supportive people at your side.  Furthermore, many people who fall into addiction do so for reasons you may not expect: they were prescribed opioid-based painkillers by their doctor, only for the doctor to stop prescribing them later and they go into withdrawal.  Many turn to drugs or alcohol because of mental illness—which is also something our society (wrongly) sees as a weakness and a choice. 

Yet, every addict is somebody’s son or daughter; brother or sister; mom or dad.  Most of all, they are God’s children—and so are their loved ones. He’s not standing idly by while people die and children cry.  He’s there in the alley with the person shooting up heroin who can’t get clean.  He’s there with the person seeking solace from a bottle.  He’s there with the children, the spouses, the parents are abused, exploited, and neglected because of their loved one’s addiction. 

He’s there with emergency responders reviving an overdose.  He’s there in the people God has called to serve and advocate. 

The cross of Jesus stands amid this plague upon our humanity.  Jesus is calling out—and people are going to come.  And while far too many churches are hung up on programs and budgets and buildings, Jesus is building his church with and among these all the weary and heavy-burdened, just as he did 2,000 years ago.

The drug and alcohol crisis is enormous—and the church doesn’t have all the answers. Faith does not equal fix.  But when we belong to one another in Christ, we can easily bear the yoke of caring for one another. 

I’m reminded of the classic poem “Footprints in the Sand,” which you probably all know.  Two pairs of footprints run parallel through the sand until only one pairs remains—for when Jesus carries you.  That’s only one small part of what Jesus is promising today.  The fullness of his promise consists of many footprints in the sand, as we carry each other by the strength he gives us.

Addiction or not, we share with everyone in this world the captivity to sin of which we cannot free ourselves.  Sin and death are bigger than every one of us, and beneath them we are defeated.  But Jesus bears that defeat—and the cross gives way to victory.  Resurrection is our reality.  New life is our destiny.  In the meantime, we are prisoners of hope together. 

As God’s people, we assure others that they matter to God and that God has not rejected them. We break the cycle of shaming the blaming.  We confront the evil and love the people by the power of the Holy Spirit.

The power of God is changing the way we see the present crisis and the people impacted by it.  The power of God draws us down to our knees, to pray together for God’s help and guidance.  The power of God gives strength for you to say “no” to enabling your addicted loved one’s behavior; to face reality for what it is and to give that tough love.  The power of God raises up our voices to advocate for changes in our legal system to treat mental illness and addiction with something far more compassionate than prison. The power of God happens as we set the captives free; heal the sick; build up the broken; and stand together as prisoners of hope.