Why Sit Here Until We Die?

My Dad used to preach a sermon called “Why Sit Here Until We Die?” (well, that’s not the real sermon title, but as a kid, that’s what I called it). He only preached it a few times – he said it was a “hard” sermon and he reserved it for congregations that were on the brink of extinction because they were so apathetic or stuck in their ways.

I couldn’t help but think of his sermon last weekend when I attended (with my parents) an ecumenical (meaning the whole Christian church or interdenominational) conference called “Why Christian?”

My guess is that most of the people at that conference have asked a similar question at some point in their spiritual journey: “Why sit here until we die?” My Dad tried to prompt the question from callous believers, but there are many people who need no prompting because they struggle and yearn each day to “take hold of the life that is truly life.” (1 Timothy 6:19)

In the Bible story, there was a terrible famine – so terrible that people were turning into cannibals and eating their own children (yes, the Bible is full of cheery, uplifting details). Four lepers, sitting at the entrance of the city gate asked themselves a simple question, “Why should we sit here waiting to die?” (2 Kings 7:3 NLT) They decided to go to the enemy camp and surrender. The enemy might spare them, but if not, they were going to die anyway.

They had nothing to lose.

They were already on the perimeter; already outsiders because they were lepers.

They were starving and knew there was nothing for them inside the city.

So they went to the enemy camp, and something remarkable happened . . . they walked right into abundance beyond their wildest dreams!

God had caused a great noise that sounded like an enormous army and the entire enemy camp had left in a hurry. There was not one person in the camp. The lepers had a blast, eating and drinking and hauling off goodies.

And then they suddenly felt like selfish jerks and realized they couldn’t keep the good news to themselves. So they went back to the city and told the king (who didn’t believe them at first and thought it was an enemy trick). An entire city was saved because of the lepers.

So, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but last weekend kind of felt like a Biblical leper moment. I heard story after story (and read many stories online in a closed Facebook group) of people who had stumbled upon a feast because they were willing to walk away from the famine.

They wanted to live — not just exist, waiting to die.

For some, heading into “enemy camp” was walking into a church and finding unexpected healing and love. For others “enemy camp” meant walking away from their church or denomination and risking something new.

In my personal journey, I had to wander outside the church. I never physically left the church because I believe in it so deeply and there have been times when I have enjoyed a feast there. But I began to feel lonely (this was my famine), on the fringe, and a little (okay, a lot) “unclean” like a leper.

I have this disease called doubt; this disorder of questioning; this uncomfortable condition of speaking my mind. Many believe these conditions to be “contagious.” As a teenager, I was told by my Sunday school teachers not to question God. As an adult I’ve heard many times, “Why do you have to ask so many questions? Why can’t you just trust God? “(as if my doubts and questions were an indication of weak faith) I have been asked not to talk about controversial topics or different Biblical interpretations because “less mature” believers might find it confusing (but the reality is that it often makes the “mature” believers uncomfortable).

My wandering came in the form of reading. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach was filled as I read the honest and healing words of Rachel Held Evans (RHE), Nadia Bolz-Weber (NBW), Richard Rohr, Gregory Boyd, Anne Lamott, etc.

And this past weekend I experienced a feast beyond my wildest dreams when RHE and NBW brought together people from all over the country who want to live the abundant life (John 10:10) that Jesus speaks about. But they want the abundant life for ALL people and they know that following Jesus isn’t about some cheesy “prosperity gospel” – it’s about dealing with trouble, with doubt and grief and pain and mystery . . . and trusting God anyway. “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

And we all have things that create an emotional or spiritual “famine” in our lives – maybe an unhealthy relationship, maybe a crisis of faith that moves us away from the familiar, a profession that sucks the life out of us, physical ailments, financial crisis, addictions, demons from the past that haunt us . . . the list can go on and on. You could be living in a space where everyone is starving, or you could be experiencing a famine while everyone else around you is fat and satisfied.

I don’t know your situation, but I do know the question that might serve as motivation to DO something, DO anything: Why sit here until we die?

 “Change happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.” (okay, I like this quote but I’m not really a Tony Robbins fan – he is a scary breed of extrovert.)

The lepers were not heroes. They didn’t venture out because they suddenly became courageous. They ventured out because they wanted to live. To stay there meant certain death. To leave meant a slim chance they might survive.

And once they ventured out into the unknown, away from the predictable, toward uncertainty, they discovered that God had already taken care of the enemy and the only thing that awaited them was a feast.

Pastor Emily Scott (who started St. Lydia’s Dinner Church in Brooklyn) said, “Being a Christian is living at the fulcrum of your fear. That’s where Jesus does His best work.”

I heard many speakers last weekend who had to break from church-as-usual, who had to break from addictions, from relationships, from stereotypes . . . and step out into the unknown.

Because when we can’t live God’s truth and be who God created us to be, we experience famine, and we will slowly die without God’s resurrection.

And often, God’s resurrection looks bleak and scary – it doesn’t look like new life at all. But when we resolve that we can no longer sit here waiting to die, and we get up and go, realizing our survival requires our surrender, we often find an unexpected feast. . . with unexpected people, in unexpected places. God is already there (turns out, He’s everywhere!).

And although we might still feel unwanted or misunderstood, we will go back to the city gates and share this good news. The news might be met with suspicion (just as the king in the text thought it was a trick of the enemy), but it is what we must do. “Freely you have received; freely give.” (Matt 10:8)

Because there is a famine. And there are unlikely messengers – some “unclean” lepers – who stumbled upon a feast. And there is enough for all.