Sunday, August 30, 2015 | 8:00 a.m.

You Can Stop Now

Victoria G. Curtiss
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 126
Isaiah 43:16–21
John 8:1–11

The old song of my spirit has wearied itself out….my life has passed beyond to other levels where the old song is meaningless.…the work of the old song, perfect in its place, is not for this new demand! I will sing a new song.

Howard Thurman

It is not often that I observe the parenting skills of my clergy colleagues, but I had the privilege a couple weeks ago. It happened here at church, on the floor where the pastors’ offices are. It was a rare occasion when both children of our Associate Pastor, Hardy Kim, were visiting, as well as the big black dog—named Lucy—of the Kershner family. Lucy may be a bit taller, and definitely heavier, than Hardy’s five-year-old daughter, Haeil. Lucy is a friendly and inquisitive dog, who liked exploring our offices. She was nearby when Hardy and his two children came out of his office. When Lucy saw the children, she got very animated and wagged her tail hard. She frightened Haeil, who began to cry. First her dad sought to reassure her that Lucy was just glad to see her and there was nothing to be afraid of. She continued to cry. A few minutes later they walked by my office and I heard Hardy calmly say to his little daughter, “You can stop crying now, Haeil.”

“You can stop crying now.” I was impressed with this father’s response, and this phrase has echoed in my mind ever since. When I asked Hardy’s permission to tell this story, he gave it but said he didn’t know whether that was good parenting. But I think it is. Because when I heard him say it—and I don’t want this to go to his head—it resonated with me as something that God sometimes says to us. “You can stop now.” Not a reprimand, but said calmly, giving us a reality check with no anger. This parent was just stating a fact to calm down a precious child and help her realize that there was no longer any reason for her to cry now. And that she was capable of stopping. The dog Lucy was now nowhere to be seen. The scary encounter with her was over. The moment of being frightened had passed. There was no need to keep crying. And (oh, by the way) crying was not going to cause her father to give her extra attention. “You can stop crying now.”

There is a risk in using this story in a sermon, because you may misinterpret me. I don’t want you to think this is a sermon against crying. Such a sermon could be feasible, coming from a preacher whose ethnic background is English, Scottish, and German. I come from cultures that are known for the repression of emotion. You only need to watch the movie, The Queen, about the royal family’s response to the death of Princess Diana, or the popular miniseries Downton Abbey to realize what an emotionally repressed, private culture was lived out by at least the English royal and aristocratic classes of the past century. Little physical contact or expression of affection, little spontaneous laughter, few slaps on the back, and certainly little or no public exhibit of crying or grief. Fans of Downton Abbey didn’t know in advance that two of the major actors in the series—those who played Sybil and Matthew—had decided not to renew their three-year contract. We were not prepared for their sudden deaths. And afterwards, as the ensuing episodes unfolded, we saw very little expression of grief by the remaining characters.

That seems odd to me, for grieving the loss of a loved one is human and normal. Grieving usually doesn’t take days or weeks, but months and years. There is a theory about mourning that it has four tasks. And one of them is to experience the pain of grief. If one avoids it, you can get stuck there. It is important to grieve when we are feeling loss, to weep when we are hurt, to lament the brokenness of our world. There are appropriate times for crying, and I wish our culture encouraged us all, including men, to do more of it without any embarrassment.

This is not a sermon against crying or in favor of being stoic. No, I told you the story about the comment “You can stop . . . now” because God sometimes says this to us. God wants to wake us up to a new reality, nudging us to move on. This is a sermon about letting go, not getting stuck, claiming God’s freedom to stop destructive habits, break free from addictions, and end harmful patterns of thinking.

We just heard a familiar biblical story about a woman caught in adultery. She was brought to Jesus by a group of religious leaders who were testing him. Would he hold up the convention that she should be stoned as punishment according to the law of Moses?

Jesus did not fall into their trap. He responds with amazing wisdom and with compassion for the woman, simply saying, “Let anyone who is without sin cast the first stone.” And of course, all had committed sin. Each member of that group drifted away. No stones were thrown. What an amazing story about forgiveness.

Also of note are Jesus’ closing words, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way and do not sin again.” In other words, Jesus said to her, “You can stop now.” We really don’t know anything about the woman and the adulterous relationship she was in. Did she engage in adultery by her own choosing, or was she victimized by a powerful man? Was she in love with another? Was she unhappy in her marriage? Did she cross boundaries she should have kept because of her own weaknesses or personal needs not being met?

Whatever the reasons for her adultery, to go and sin no more would have been a challenge. For one thing, she has just come within moments of being stoned to death. The trauma of that no doubt left her struggling with post-traumatic stress syndrome—a hard time to make any changes. And then there is the man involved. It takes two to commit adultery, even though the law of Moses didn’t seem to hold men accountable for their actions. She had to find a way to end her relationship outside marriage and remove herself from temptation, and maybe danger. She would also need to face her spouse in light of her wrongdoing, seek forgiveness, and try to rebuild trust and love in her marriage. Not easy.

When God says “you can stop now” to us, we may not feel that capable of doing so. If it is an addiction we are being called to end, we probably need the ongoing support of a twelve-step program. If not returning to prison is our goal, we probably need others’ help to make new friends, find a job, or live in a different neighborhood so as not to get sucked back into the life of gangs or crime. Not easy.

Yet God shows confidence in us. God provides the strength we need to stop and start anew. When Jesus said to the woman, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more,” he showed her not only compassion, but that he believed in her. He saw in her the ability and willingness to move on. He basically said to her, “You are capable of starting a new chapter, to stop doing that which is unhealthy.” When God says to us, “You can stop now,” it is an affirmation of us, a wakeup call to a new reality that can unfold for us and through us.

A man who was hurt by adultery heard God’s voice say something similar. He had been married to the same woman, happily he thought, for twenty years. Then he discovered that she had been having an affair for the past three years. He was devastated. He stayed in the marriage and thought the affair had ended, but when he discovered it had continued for another few years, he was deeply heartbroken all over again. How could his wife do this to him when it was so clear how much it hurt him? Upon being found out the second time, his wife did end the affair. Yet even years later he felt unsure of her love for him and sometimes expressed his pain and doubt. His wife had apologized more than once for causing him so much pain and assured him her affair was not about his inadequacies or her lack of love for him. Still his doubts and hurt lingered. Finally she said, “Let it go. I am totally devoted to you, and only to you. You are my life partner and I love you fully.” This time her words, “Let it go,” broke through. She woke him up to a new reality. He could move on; he didn’t need to nurse or wallow in pain. The past was over, and a new chapter was at hand. He felt God releasing him for new life.

“You can stop now.” “You can let go.” “Go and sin no more.” These are words God sometimes says to us. Not as a reprimand, not with condemnation, but to wake us up to the present moment and to nudge us to embrace our own capability to move on. God may be saying we need to stop an unhealthy behavior. Perhaps there is a deception we need to end, or a habit to break, like judging others. God may be telling us to stop longing for what can no longer be. God may be inviting us to make peace with the past, or let go of shame. God may be freeing us from a toxic relationship. God may be giving us permission to stop engaging in activities that once had meaning but no longer do.

We often speak of God as one who consoles us when we are frightened and comforts us when we are sad. We read from the psalms and the prophets that God heals us in our brokenness. We believe God weeps with us when we cry and then wipes away our tears. God turns people’s sorrow into joy. God creates a new heaven and a new earth. And on that journey to newness, God disturbs and challenges us. There must be some endings to the old for the new to be born.

God closes doors as well as opens them. God says no as well as yes. God says stop as well as go. God sets limits as well as gives us freedom. God pushes us on when we are stuck. God liberates us from being shackled. God wakes us up when we are blind.

Sr. Joyce Rupp wrote a book called Fragments of Your Ancient Name, which features 365 different names for God, with a prayer for each name. One of them features God as “The Disturber” with this prayer:

Wake us up to what needs doing, and what needs undoing.
Wake us up to what must be let go, and what to draw closer.
Wake us up to what enlarges love and what diminishes it,
In all parts of our life, disturb and wake us up! (April 12)

Another is addressed to God as “The One Who Breaks Chains”:

I have been bound time and again
by fetters that shackled me tightly
and entangled my heart’s desires.
These countless, vapid excuses of mine
for not being the person I could be
have restrained the love in my heart
intended to flow outward to others.
You continually show me these chains
and help me to break loose, to be free
from whatever chokes my goodness. (March 7)

God frees us because God desires our wholeness. God challenges us because God believes in who we can be. I invite you today to reflect and listen carefully to God. Where in your life may God be lovingly saying, “You can stop now”?