Already but Not Yet

July 17, 2011
Northridge Presbyterian Church, Dallas TX

Genesis 28:10-19a
Psalm 139
Romans 8:12-25

Already but Not Yet

When the taxi pulled up to the White Swan Hotel in Guangzho, China I couldn’t help but notice all the Americans pushing baby strollers, holding babies bundled in pink onesies. As I looked closer, I noticed they were all Chinese girls with American parents.

Our good friends, Laura and Mico wanted their four year old biological daughter Anna to be part of the process of welcoming Iris. But, little Anna couldn’t participate in all parts of the trip. They invited me to join them and serve as nanny and friend for ten days. So, I got permission to take my seminary exams early, and traveled to China.

I quickly learned this city and hotel was a spot where many adopting families stay. The hotel was across from the US Embassy and close to rail lines and orphanages. As I walked in, I saw many new families walking around, some clearly joyful. Others were pacing anxiously, a Chinese child noticeably absent. I greeted my friends, Laura and Mico with a big hug and their four year old biological daughter, Anna. We were nervous and excited as we had all made the journey to China to adopt Iris.

Walking to our hotel room, I couldn’t help but notice Barbie Dolls lining the hallway. I learned that Mattell had a deal with the hotel and provided an adoption Chinese Barbie to every family adopting mostly little girls. And then there was the Mattel playroom in the hotel where families could play with their new children until the Visa paperwork was processed. This hotel was a haven for newly forming families who were adopting Chinese girls.

I met a lot of families waiting to adopt over the course of the week as we waited to greet Iris. Some had chosen to adopt, others had grieved infertility, the loss of a child or miscarriage and discerned to adopt. Each family went through an intense process of paperwork, saving money, waiting, completing home visits, waiting, getting matched, waiting, and then finally getting the green light to come and pick up their child.

Those adopting their second child acted as guides to us. They gave us tips about baby formula, language development, and Chinese cultural networks back in the states. Many parents, like my friends, were adopting their first. Each adoptive parent I met felt called to welcome a stranger into their family and had tremendous hope.

I’ll never forget the moment of joy and deep gratitude when I first held their new daughter, Iris Sophia. I truly began to understand freedom as I held this little girl and helped to welcome her to her new family.

Some say adoption is an act of grace. Paul uses this metaphor of adoption intentionally in Romans 8.

If you were here last week, you recall that Paul crafted his letter to the Romans using a cumulative argument written for his pluraslistic and rapidly changing context. The first 11 verses of Romans 8 looked at what we are free from the power of sin and separation from God, and what we are free for: following God, loving as God loves.

In this section of the chapter, Paul looks at our identity and what our life of faith looks like through that identity. Paul uses an analogy here: you are free from slavery, and a metaphor of adoption. Both spoke vividly to the church in Rome.

Remember, this church is made up of Jews, gentiles, and other non-Jews, many who are not native to Rome. The church was mixed across social strata, drawing largely from lower classes including slaves and freed persons. For the Jews hearing this letter, slavery would immediately bring to mind their Exodus with Moses when God led them to freedom. Just as God led God’s people through the wilderness, so the Spirit leads all of God’s children to a life of freedom. For the non-Jews the metaphor of adoption would ring true. The covenant has been expanded to include them. Together, Jews, Gentiles, proselytes, and Romans are all God’s children. This was a radical concept in this context.

It’s wonderful to know our identity: to know who we are and whose we are, because it is from that identity that we live and move in this broken and beautiful world. You know that our identity as God’s children doesn’t make us immune to suffering and struggles….

Paul knows that too, which is why he writes in verse 22 “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only creation, but we ourselves…”

In the film Grand Canyon an immigration attorney breaks out of a traffic jam and attempts to bypass it. He finds himself driving in a rougher part of town, the streets looking darker and darker and more deserted. Then the predictable occurs: his BMW stalls on one of those vacant streets who are ruled by a gang of young men. The man manages to use his cell phone to call a tow truck, but before the truck arrives his car is surrouneded by five young tough looking gang members. They knock on his window and threaten him.

Then, just in time, the tow truck shows up and its driver – an earnest, strong, genial man – begins to calmly hook up the disable car. Meanwhile, the gang members continue to circle the car with menacing motions and comments. They protest, telling the tow truck driver to leave.

The tow truck driver takes the leader of the gang aside and intervenes.

“Man,” he says, “the world ain’t supposed to work like this. Maybe you don’t know that, but this ain’t the way it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to be able to do my job without askin’ you if I can. And that dude is supposed to be able to wait with his car without you rippin’ him off. Everything’s supposed to be different than what it is here.”

Yes, you and I live in a world that is groaning. You and I are not immune. We live in this tension of the already of God’s grace and kingdom but the not yet of brokenness.

The way things are do make us groan…but Paul doesn’t dwell there, because remember, those in Christ are free. Paul goes on to speak of hope, which springs from identity. This hope isn’t wishful thinking. Hope is rooted in our identity as children of God. Hope is an ability to see what one does not yet see. Hope is anticipating knowing full well the reality…the already of God’s grace, but the not yet of living in a broken and groaning world with the reality of sin...and yet, seeking to bear God’s love in the world.

When I was in seminary I had a professor, Dr. Lee, who introduced me to the concept of liminal space. "Liminal space and time is when you are in between something. This is created by a person leaving one set structure or routine and not yet returning to that old structure or a new one. Liminal times are when we are in between what has been and what will be."

Dr. Lee was fond of telling us students that seminary was a liminal time, when we were separated from our families and the world as we knew it to encounter a new rhythm of prayer, worship, and study and with time, ultimate transformation, but only if we were open to it. Not all of us were…some looked to reinforce their ideas, others found the experience threatening and debilitating.


You have lived in a liminal space. Perhaps it was while waiting for the birth of a child, or the death of a loved one. For those retiring, perhaps you experienced liminality between announcing the date of your departure, and then finally leaving. Or, perhaps you have lost a job and are waiting to find a new one.

According to anthropologist Victor Turner, “liminality is a time of ambivalence, ambiguity, and even disorientation, but it is at the same time a realm of possibility where one is open to what is new, open to different ways of being and living in the world.”

The Christian life was liminal. We were called to see possibility and remain open to new ways of living in the world. Paul is describing this liminal space in Romans 8 with the already of God’s grace and kingdom, but the not yet of final consummation.

Now more than ever as we live in a changing world and changing church and denomination, we want to know what’s next, exactly where we’re going. Sitting in this in between time, this liminal space is a challenge, but not impossible if we remember who we are. Knowing who we are as children of God gives us hope.

How do you remember who you are? By coming together as the body of Christ and connecting with God week after week in worship, prayer, and Sabbath keeping.

We have to stop regularly and reconnect through practices of prayer, Scripture reading, worship...That’s Sabbath. Stopping from work, from routine, and taking up life giving practices…spending time outside, with family. We have to pause from the pull of the office, the routine of carpooling the kids or we forget who we are and lose sight of our hope.

Remember, you are a child of God.

A fellow Presbyterian pastor, Carol Howard Merritt explores this question of our identity in Christ and hope in her book Reframing Hope: Vital Ministry in a New Generation.

She tells the story of a church member, Holly.

“Holly faced the loss of her job during a recent economic crisis. Holly had been working as a counselor for ten years when the stock market tumbled. As the board of her organization looked at the budget, her position and duties seemed expendable. Holly lost her job.

Holly’s anxiety grew as she imagined what could happen. Without her job, Holly would lose her home and her children’s livelihood would be in jeopardy. She felt trapped as she scrolled through the classifieds, as she interviewed and then didn’t hear back or received rejection letters. A depression took root.

There was one thing that got her through those difficult days. It was the simple act of prayer. A year before the crisis Holly had started attending a prayer group at her church. The group was exploring a wide range of prayer traditions from journaling to meditating, to walking. This began as an intriguing exercise for Holly, but the act of prayer grew to sustain her.

During the job search Holly felt she had to put on a mask of competence and peace. But, when she began to open herself to God in prayer, she could voice her worries and frustrations.

During the painful process three things began to happen: Holly began to feel peace. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from.

Second, Holly moved into a deeper sense of gratitude for everything she had. She noticed how her prayers included streams of gratitude in addition to petitions and laments. Finally, Holly began to sense God’s steadfast love surround her. Holly realized that no matter what the organization thought of her job, she was being held by her Creator who delighted in her. Somehow she began to understand that God loved her because of who she was as a child of God, and not because of what she accomplished.”

You are children of God, a people of hope.

Will you accept the status quo of brokenness and despair, or will you seek to connect to God and God’s family, and share your hope?

Where is God calling you to risk, to change, to be open in this liminal space of the already, but not yet?

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.



References:
Romans contextual understanding from Brendan, Byrne. Romans Commentary (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press). pages 10-11.

Grand Canyon reference from Neal Plantinga's Not the Way It's Supposed to be: A Breviary on Sin. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans). page 7.

Dr. Lee references from recollection and definition of liminality and quotes from Victor Turner from his September 2006 convocation sermon published in The Princeton Seminary Bulletin Vol. 27 No. 3 (2006) page 193.

Carol Howard Merritt, Reframing Hope: Vital Ministry in a New Generation. (The Alban Institute, 2010) pages 117-118.