Wanting to improve or better yourself is risky business. Whether you’re going back to school to complete or further your education; whether you’re a mother who’s made the decision to reenter the work force; whether you’ve changed careers; whether you’ve relocated for the betterment of your family situation; whether you’ve committed yourself to losing weight; whether you’ve developed a new hobby or interest to broaden your horizons; whether you’ve dedicated yourself to a sport; whether you’re planning to participate in a mission trip to Brazil; or whether you’re a growing church in need of new educational space. Each of these decisions to improve your station in life is risky business, because something has to be given up and changed in order to take that step forward.
If you’re going back to school or back to work, the hours that now require you to be in class and study, or to be on the job, have to come from somewhere. We can’t create more hours in the day, so something has to give in order to have the time to return to school or work. Taking a new job or relocating your family is risky, because you find yourself in a new work environment, living in new community, having to develop new friendships and relationships.
Participating in mission trips and building programs will require the offering of time, energy, and money. All of these scenarios are worthwhile and fulfilling, but they involve risks.
Eight years ago, Paula and I were facing many of these same decisions at the same time. We were dealing with a call to ministry, which would require a job change, going back to school, relocating our daughter, while we anticipated the birth of a son. It was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t easy making those decisions, and it came with plenty of risks. But you know, following God, searching for healing and hope, and seeking fulfillment as His created being is risky business. Our scripture passage this morning is all about risky business.
Our story starts with finger pointing. As Jesus and the disciples are walking along, they notice a man who has been blind from birth, and the disciples point their finger and ask, “Who sinned and caused this man’s blindness? Is it his fault or his parents?”
The start to this man’s following God, finding healing and wholeness for his life, and seeking fulfillment as God’s creation, is accusations and finger pointing. How sad, but true? Often times the circumstances in our life aren’t as we would like them to be, and we also start pointing fingers and assigning blame. “I wouldn’t be in this mess, if you hadn’t…” “We wouldn’t have to deal with these problems, if you had only…” “I wouldn’t be missing out, if you had…”
There’s the story of a minor league baseball manager who was so disgusted with his center fielder’s performance that he ordered him to the dugout and assumed the position himself. The first ball that came into center field took a bad hop and hit the manager in the mouth. The next one was a high fly ball, which he lost in the glare of the sun—until it bounced off his forehead. The third was a hard line drive that he charged with outstretched arms; unfortunately, it flew between his hands and smacked his eye. Furious, he ran back to the dugout, grabbed the center fielder by the uniform, and shouted. ‘You’ve got center field so messed up that even I can’t do a thing with it!’
Recognizing the need for something different is an important first step, but finger pointing and assigning blame isn’t going to help anyone. Don’t find fault. Find a remedy.
Jesus provided the remedy, but it didn’t come without risks for him either. First, it was the Sabbath, and the present day religious establishment had created over 600 laws pertaining to the Sabbath, specifically outlining what you couldn’t do, and healing on the Sabbath was prohibited. Jesus decided to take a risk. He understood that this belief about the Sabbath needed to be challenged. He understood that it was more important to be obedient to his Heavenly Father than to the Pharisees. He understood that healing this man on the Sabbath, that providing this man with the opportunity to find God, that giving this man the chance to find fulfillment as a creation of God, was risky business. Being obedient is risky.
At a certain children’s hospital, a boy gained a reputation for wreaking havoc with the nurses and staff. One day a visitor who knew about his terrorizing nature made him a deal: “If you’re good for a week, I’ll give you $10 when I come back.” A week later she stood before his bed. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t even ask the nurses if you’ve behaved. You must tell me yourself. Do you deserve the $10?” After a moment’s pause, a small voice from underneath the sheets said: “How ‘bout a dollar!”
It’s never easy being obedient to God instead of our desires or the desires of those around us. Christ showed us in healing the blind man, that being obedient to God does not come risk free. There are modern-day Pharisees in your life waiting to suggest their point of view, expecting you to live up to their expectations, wanting you to follow the letter of their law. They sit next to you in the classroom. You share a cubicle with them at work. You may even live in the same house with them. You risk their disdain when, like Jesus, you choose to be obedient to your Heavenly Father.
You also assume risks when, like the blind man, you allow yourself to be healed. When you make the statement, “I’m going to change. I’m going to be healed. I’m going to be made whole,” those around you, and sometimes those closest to you, become threatened.
This blind man’s parents were threatened by his healing. They acknowledged that he was their son. They acknowledged that he had been blind, but they didn’t want to know anything about it or be associated with his healing. They were scared. His healing, his having changed was rocking the boat and threatening their way of life. Being healed and changing is risky business. It’s not for the faint of heart, because there will be many who will resist your transformation.
When I approached Paula with my sense of being called into the ministry, I assumed some risk. We had been married three years, and Kari was less than a year old. Paula married a banker who lived in Wilmington, NC, not a pastor want-a-be, who was going to move to Richmond, VA and begin seminary. Thankfully, Paula was supportive from day one, and that has enriched our ministry and our marriage. I had some friends in seminary who were not so lucky. Their spouses were resistant to the change that was taking place in their lives. The one that they needed the greatest amount of support from was not on board.
This blind man’s parents were not on board. My goodness, he had just gotten his sight back. He was now able to see his parents for the very first time, and they didn’t want anything to do with it. His being healed, his having changed was a threat that they didn’t know how to deal with.
When you allow Jesus Christ to become your personal Lord and Savior, when you allow him to bring healing and change to your life, you are engaging in risky business, because you will be greeted by those who don’t want you to be healed and by those who don’t want you to change. Whether an individual or a church, being changed by the touch of the Master is risky business.
When Jean-Claude Killy made the French national ski team in the early 1960s, he was prepared to work harder than anyone else to be the best. At the crack of dawn he would run up the slopes with his skis on, an unbelievably grueling activity. In the evening he would lift weights, run sprints—anything to get an edge. But the other team members were working as hard and long as he was. He realized instinctively that simply training harder would never be enough. Killy then began challenging the basic theories of racing technique. Each week he would try something different to see if he could find a better, faster way down the mountain. His experiments resulted in a new style that was almost exactly opposite the accepted technique of the time. It involved skiing with his legs apart (not together) for better balance and sitting back (not forward) on the skis when he came to a turn. He also used ski poles in an unorthodox way—to propel himself as he skied. The explosive new style helped cut Killy’s racing times dramatically. In 1966 and 1967 he captured virtually every major skiing trophy. The next year he won three gold medals in the Winter Olympics, a record in ski racing that has never been topped. Killy learned an important secret shared: innovations don’t require genius, just willingness to question the way things have always been done and to take a little risk.
Play write Neil Simon said, “If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor.” As we look to the future that God is laying out in front of us, we’re preparing to embark on a journey that will bring about tremendous change, because of the Master’s touch. We’re making preparations to build a 12,000 square foot building that will cost $1,000,000. We’re preparing to engage in risky business, and not because we’re fool-heartedly throwing caution to the wind, but because the movement and leadership of the Holy Spirit has been turned loose in this place, and that’s risky business.
I want to challenge each of you to engage in risky business. I want you to feel the freedom that comes with the touch of the Master’s hand, much as this blind man experienced, but beware of the risks. This man’s family didn’t know how to deal with it, and the Pharisees ran him out of town. Following God is risky business.
When the late Nadine Stair, of Louisville, Kentucky, was 85 years old, she was asked what she would do if she had her life to live over again.
“I’d make more mistakes next time,” she said. “I’d relax. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones. I would take more chances.”
Listen to this prayer offered by Sir Frances Drake:
Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves, when our dreams have come true because we have dreamed too little, when we arrive safely because we have sailed too close to the shore.
Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess, we have lost our thirst for the waters of life; having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity; and in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new Heaven to dim.
Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wider seas where storms will show your mastery; where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars. We ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes; and to push us into the future in strength, courage, hope, and love.
Following God is risky business, but man, is it eye opening! Amen
