A Basket of Deplorables

(No political statement is intended in any way)

A tweet from the Associated Press (AP):

Clinton says she regrets calling `half' of Trump supporters `basket of deplorables'

On the Sunday following the Clinton speech where she employed the term basket of deplorables, one of our readings was from Paul's letter to Timothy.  In it, he describes himself as a "blasphemer, persecutor and insolent opponent."  In other words, he was irreverent toward God and those who believe in God; he hurt people who didn't agree with him; and he was insulting and contemptuous to others.  He was full of pride.  In persecuting others, is it possible that he killed people who didn't agree with him?

As Mary Jo read this passage this morning from the lectern, I couldn't help but think that Paul should be included in a basket of deplorables.  And I'm certain he would agree.  He might even call himself Public Sinner Number One.  

That's the bad part.  But this is the good news:

I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly.  Grace overflowed for me with faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.  Grace mixed with faith and love poured over me and into me.  All because of Jesus.  In me, Jesus displays his perfect patience.  Endless patience.  

The verses on love that everyone quotes at weddings begins simply thus:  "Love is patient."  So is God, for God is love.

This morning, Nathan took the readings from I Timothy and Luke to emphasize that God really does love us, those of us who believe we are inadequate, insufficient, broken down, and lost.  In other words, he loves the ragamuffin like me in the basket of deplorables, even if the only basket of deplorables is the one I crafted myself for myself.  In the homily, Nathan quoted from Joshua Ryan Butler's 2016 book entitled The Pursuing God and subtitled A Reckless, Irrational, Obsessed Love That's Dying to Bring Us Home.  I haven't read the book and can't vouch for it, but this was the quote (and it's a good one):

We often act as if God's lost, treating the Almighty as if he's gone missing, our Creator crouching in the cosmos behind a couch somewhere, playing hide-and-seek and waiting for us to follow any trail of breadcrumbs we can find to pick up the hunt and discover the divine.  We emphasize 'searching for God,' 'exploring spirituality,' and 'finding faith.'  We send satellites and smoke signals into the sky . . . And hope the heavens respond.

But what if we have it backward?  What if God's the one pursuing us, and our job is not to discover the light but to simply step out of the shadows?  Not to hit the trailhead on the hunt, but to give up our hiding spot in the bushes?  Not to ramp up our search for God, but to receive God's search for us?

God's divine grace bears down upon us, calling us to turn and receive his love.  As his footsteps draw closer, the sound of his voice breaks through the silence, and the light of his encroaching presence begins to pierce the darkness.  The question we're then faced with is not whether we've been good enough, jumped high enough, or sought hard enough . . . .

The question is, do I want to be found?

Yes.

Hiding is lonely.  It is too incredibly hard.

I'd rather be found, known and loved.  Freed from my own basket of deplorables.  

Here I am.