I am playing catch up after forgetting to post my sermons from the last couple of weeks. The title of this sermon came from the first words of The Message version of Galatians 6:1-10: “Live creatively, friends.” Thanks for reading.
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I love the way our passage for today begins: “Live creatively, friends.”
These words come on the heels of what we read last week about the Fruit of the Spirit–what I also called the Fruit of Breathing–because they are what it takes to help each other stay alive, As Paul moves to the last part of his letter to the Galatian congregation, which was not without its own challenges, he talks about what it looks like to live in creative relationship with one another: what it looks like when we are committed to bringing out the best in ourselves as we navigate life together, and he says that to live in mutual and meaningful community is a creative act.
When we hear the word creative, we usually think of something artistic, as if I am going to announce art and poetry classes in the parish house, but the oldest meaning of the word create is to make grow–to help things flourish and develop.
Live creatively, friends. Live in a way that lets everyone flourish and thrive.
Often, the popular perception of artists is that they are somehow different than other people, that their brains work differently. We tend to think of creativity as if it were a gift. Though it is true that we all see the world a bit differently from each other, a lot of what it takes to be creative comes with practice. Artists have all kinds of rituals and practices to help them hone their craft, to help them be more creative. To be able to improvise with an instrument, for example, you first have to play the scales.
I have a friend who was a studio musician and was hired to play for the jazz guitarist, Pat Metheney. My friend said he never saw the man without his guitar. When he was sitting down to eat or to relax, his fingers were running scales, doing the work to foster his creativity.
How then do we practice creative living? What are the scales we need to run, the relational skills we need to hone?
Paul gives a couple of specific examples that paint a pretty good picture of how we can practice living creatively.
If someone messes up, forgive them and keep your criticism to yourself (then he adds that we might need to be one the receiving end of that forgiveness sooner than we think).
Help people who are oppressed and in need. When we share each other’s burdens–each other’s grief and heartache–we complete what Christ came to do (then he adds none of us should think we are above that kind of compassion).
Figure out what you have to offer the world and then do it with all of your heart. I don’t think he is talking about careers here, nor do I think this is a one-time conversation that we have with ourselves. This ought to be an ongoing internal conversation at different stages of our lives. (Then he adds, don’t compare yourself with others; be responsible for who you are.)
Then he changes gears and says to remember that no one makes a fool of God. The fruit of our lives will depend on the seeds we have planted. If we plant seeds of bitterness, we will have a bitter harvest. If we plant the seeds of the Spirit, we will harvest the fruit of the Spirit. How we chose to engage the world is, most likely, the way the world will respond in return.
So, he says, “Let’s not allow ourselves to grow fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in our community of faith.”
As I said last week, Paul was writing to a congregation trying to find its way in the middle of great political and societal upheaval. The Roman government gave little indication that it cared about anyone or anything other than amassing more power and wealth. Fear was their primary tactic to keep people off balance. They wanted people to be afraid of the government and of each other because that made it easier to keep everyone in line.
For Paul, who had spent a good part of his life being a fear mongerer, the best way to respond to that kind of toxic leadership was by living creatively and practicing loving one another–living out the daily scales of forgiveness, compassion, integrity, kindness, and hope so that all of us can flourish and thrive. As he wrote to the congregation in Rome,
Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints, it isn’t happy with injustice, but it is happy with the truth. Love puts up with all things, trusts in all things, hopes for all things, endures all things. Love never fails.
When Jesus talked about love, he said we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, which means some of the scales we need to practice have to do with getting better at loving ourselves. Before we can truly forgive others, we have to forgive ourselves. Before we can truly help others, we have to practice being vulnerable and learn how to ask for the help we need. In order to be responsible for who we are, we have to know who we are. To offer a place of belonging to others, we have to be at home with ourselves.
We said last week that Paul though community was life, and the failure of community was death. Paul wrote because he wanted people to breathe and to live. This metaphor underlines that same idea. If we practice the scales of bitterness then our community will die in bitterness. When we run the scales of the Spirit; we foster healing and reconciliation; when we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly; we grow in thriving relationships with God, ourselves, and others.
We choose how we want to live and how we see this broken and beautiful world. We can choose, with God’s help, to live creatively, my friends. Amen.
Peace,
Milton