Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Fr. Ben Riley
A few months after I was ordained a priest, I was sitting in my office as the associate pastor at Immaculate Conception Parish in North Little Rock when a woman came into the parish office and asked if a priest was available. The pastor was in the office next to mine, but he thought it would be good practice if I spoke with her myself.
To be honest, I was incredibly nervous.
I had never met this woman before. She wasn’t a parishioner, and I had no idea why she had come to see a priest. But this was also the ministry I had dreamed about—the opportunity to walk alongside God’s people in the most important moments of their lives. So I said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and went out to meet her.
Within a few minutes, I was so grateful she had come.
Without sharing too many details, she told me that she struggled with mental illness. She had recently lost her job. And her only close family member, her brother, had just died. As she spoke, my heart broke for her.
Then, after a long pause, she quietly looked at me and said,
“l guess God is testing me.”
In one sense, I found that encouraging. Even after everything she had suffered, she hadn’t abandoned God. She wasn’t cursing him and she still believed.
But at the same time, I couldn’t help but think that she had an image of God that Jesus never intended us to have.
Sadly, I don’t think she’s alone.
I’ve heard similar comments many times.
“l guess God is trying to teach me a lesson.”
“l guess God is testing me.”
“l wonder what I did to deserve this.”
Now, let me be clear, God does sometimes test his people.
Abraham was tested.
Job was tested.
The Israelites were tested in the desert.
Scripture is very clear about that.
But here’s where I think we sometimes make a mistake.
We assume that because God sometimes tests his people, every hardship must be a test personally sent by God.
And I don’t think that’s what Jesus reveals to us.
I do not think that is a very healthy theology.
If we want to know what God is like, we don’t start with our circumstances.
We start with Jesus Christ.
Jesus came to reveal the Father.
So what kind of Father does Jesus reveal? In today’s Gospel, Jesus doesn’t say,
“Come to me, and I’ll make life harder.”
He doesn’t say,
He says,
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
And if I can bring in another Gospel passage, Jesus asks a question that should forever shape how we think about God.
“What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If even sinful earthly fathers know how to give good gifts to their children, how much more your heavenly Father.”
Do you hear what Jesus is saying?
God is good.
Not mostly good.
Not good when we’re behaving.
God is always good.
This is sometimes easy for us to forget or hard to grasp, because we have never met a person who is always good.
But because God is always good, we have to be careful not to imagine him as the author of every painful thing that enters our lives.
When I was a little boy, my family went camping. Like most boys, I had an unhealthy fascination with fire. I think I’ve mentioned this in a homily before. And yes, I am excited about fireworks tonight.
My dad had lit one of those citronella candles that sat on the picnic table. I kept playing with it, and he warned me over and over.
“Ben…don’t do that.
“Ben…you’re going to burn yourself.”
Of course, I knew better.
I kept messing with the candle until eventually I stuck my hand into the hot wax.
Immediately….cried out in pain.
Now here’s the question.
Did my dad know that was probably going to happen?
Of course he did.
Did he allow me to experience a brief moment of pain?
Yes.
But did he grab my hand and shove it into the hot wax to teach me a lesson?
Of course not.
There’s a world of difference.
A loving father sometimes allows his child to experience the consequences of ignoring his warning because he knows that lesson will help him grow.
But if my dad had forced my hand into the wax himself, we wouldn’t call that loving. We’d call that abuse.
Sometimes, without realizing it, we imagine God that way.
But, that false image is not the good and loving Father Jesus came to reveal.
This is difficult, because sadly many people have earthly fathers who are abusive, who test in hurtful ways, or who were never present at all.
That broken image of fatherhood makes it difficult to see God and the good and loving Father Jesus reveals.
A Father who warns us out of love
A Father who walks beside us when we suffer.
A Father who heals.
A Father who forgives.
A Father who carries us when we can no longer walk on our own.
Jesus does not promise us a life without burdens, but he does promise to help carry our burdens.
Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light
The woman who came into my office that day thought that God had caused every tragedy in her life. And while its true that God does allow bad things to happen, He absolutely does not want bad things to happen to his beloved children, and He certainly does not cause them to happen.
That woman needed to know that God had never left her.
She needed to know that Christ had been beside her through every sleepless night, every tear, every disappointment, every funeral.
And maybe some of us need to hear that today as well.
Maybe you’ve been carrying a burden for a long time.
A broken relationship.
A diagnosis.
An addiction.
Grief.
Anxiety.
Loneliness.
Maybe you’ve found yourself wondering, “Why is God doing this?”
Perhaps today’s Gospel gently invites us to ask a different question.
Not, “Why is God doing this?”
But, “How is God inviting me to trust him, even in this suffering?”
Because that is the invitation Jesus gives us today.
“Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
That is the heart of the Gospel.
That is the heart of our Savior.
And that is the heart of our Heavenly Father.