Jack McKinney

Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

August 13, 2006 – Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Text: 2 Samuel 18:1-15, 31-33

The Control Conundrum

For every parent who has lost a child, either by death or rebellion, or perhaps both, the story of David and Absalom will hit close to home, maybe too close to home. This tragic tale includes the universal themes of betrayal, violence, and loss cast in the civil war of ancient Israel. Writers from William Faulkner (Absalom, Absalom!) to Alan Paton (Cry, the Beloved Country) have used this biblical narrative to frame their own novels. And it is easy to see why writers would continue to call upon this text for inspiration. Is there anything more poignant in all the Bible than the final cry of David when he learns that his son is dead? “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”

Frederick Buechner, commenting on David’s grief over Absalom’s death, reminds us that when David wished he had died instead of his son, “he meant it, of course. If he could have done the boy’s dying for him, he would have done it. If he could have paid the price for the boy’s betrayal of him, he would have paid it. If he could have given his own life to make the boy alive again, he would have given it. But even a king can’t do things like that.” (Peculiar Treasures: A Biblical Who’s Who, p. 6) No, not even the most powerful king in Israel’s history could control the outcome.

And this is the story within the story. Beyond the struggle between father and son, beyond the civil war, beyond the tragic ending is David’s assumption that he can secure his son’s life in the midst of a ferocious battle. After all, hadn’t David told his generals to spare Absalom’s life? Hadn’t David said it publicly in a way that couldn’t be misunderstood? Hadn’t the first man who came upon Absalom hanging in the tree refused to harm the boy because he knew David’s wishes? But even so, even though David is the most powerful person in his world, even though his command is clear, Absalom is killed. David’s assumption that he has control over the situation proves to be false.

But it’s easy to see why David would have such an assumption. After all, it is the same assumption that gets us out of bed in the morning, allows us to get behind the wheel of a car, inspires us to do good deeds, causes us to work hard, entices us into relationships, and much, much more. The assumption that we have control of our lives undergirds almost every decision we make. And why shouldn’t it? Most of the time we do have some control. Most of the time there is a straight line between what we decide and what actually happens. We base our lives on the assumption that outcomes are within our grasp because they are. Usually. But then one day the messenger comes running up to say your son was killed in battle. The one thing you insisted not happen, the one thing you exerted your control over, happened anyway. And your eyes are opened in the most painful of ways. The assumption proves to be a lie.

And by now you have figured out that this sermon is bad news before it is good news. The bad news is that we have far less control over outcomes in our lives than we assume we do. Many of you know that already. The messenger has already come running up to you with the words that shook your world. And from that point on you could never assume you had control over outcomes. Your assumptions about how life will be have been fundamentally altered in ways you didn’t want, you didn’t choose, and you wouldn’t wish on anyone else. But it doesn’t matter. Even though you did everything in your power to make things go one way, they went the other way. And when that moment comes for us we see things differently. Maybe it makes us more anxious to realize outcomes are not always within our grasp. Maybe it makes us cynical. For many people it will fundamentally alter their understanding of God. It’s hard to maintain an image of God who makes things work out like we think they should when life hits the skids. Whatever God’s power is, it isn’t the power that guarantees happy endings.

But I will tell you something. Even though there is great psychic pain in realizing how powerless we are to control outcomes, it is essential that we face this truth. And the more power one has, the more important it is to do so. Because when you understand that you are not master of the future, it humbles you, and limits you, and makes you pause and think. And I honestly think that one of the reasons our President and his advisers took us into this disastrous war in Iraq is that they were convinced America had enough power to control the outcome. Even if the stated reasons for the war turned out to be false, even if their predictions of what would happen weren’t true, even if many tactical mistakes were made, our leaders seemed convinced that they had control of the situation. And that assumption has cost thousands of lives and billions of dollars. And I wonder, I just wonder what would have happened if someone on the inside had said, “You know, we make think we know how this is going to turn out, but once you unleash the horrors of war you never know where it will lead.” Beyond the moral and religious arguments against war, I sometimes wish we would just face that simple, practical truth. Once you start dropping bombs and sending troops you are foolish if you think you can control how things will turn out.

But you know, it’s hard to get powerful people to see that they have far less control than they think. Because their days are filled with examples of exerting influence and watching things come to pass that they desire. So the assumption is reinforced over and over again. That is why leaders start foolish wars, or CEOs engage in fraud, or bosses commit sexual harassment. Because they think they can control the situation. And then it all comes crashing down and they wonder how. If only they could see the truth. If only they could see that their control of outcomes is more illusion than reality. The wise leader is humbled by the knowledge that no matter what she thinks will occur, she really doesn’t know.

But most of us will never command armies or powerful companies, so what harm is there in living blissfully with the assumption we are basically in control of our lives? Who wants the anxiety or despair of thinking about how little power we really have to shape what happens? It’s a fair question, but you see, even this is not something within our control. One day the messenger will come running up to us with the news that shatters our illusion about how our lives will go. And in the aftermath of this grief or disappointment or shock we will have to make a choice. Will we crawl back inside our safe assumptions, or will we dare to face the truth that while we can control our actions, words, and attitudes, we have little power over how life turns out. And I want to argue that if we will risk facing that truth, if we will push through the anxiety that comes with that shattered illusion, what we will gain on the other side is a new consciousness. And while being conscious of our limitations may not make us blissfully happy, it can give us an anchor in the midst of life’s storms.

This summer I had the privilege of traveling to Zimbabwe with some other Pullenites. While the main purpose of our trip was to help build a 300,000 liter water cistern at the Baptist Conference Center, I had the opportunity to teach a course at the Baptist Seminary on ethics in pastoral care. Something interesting happened to me as I taught these 45 men and women who were preparing to be pastors and teachers and chaplains. Zimbabwe, like many African countries, has been devastated by the AIDS pandemic. Every student I talked to was either working with AIDS orphans, or had a family member with AIDS, or was planning to do ministry with people suffering from the disease. In addition, the country is in the middle of an economic crisis that is beyond imagination. And the political situation is desperate as years of living under an oppressive dictator have destroyed the country’s infrastructure. In that setting you might think that the students in this class would be hopeless, but that’s not what I found. In fact, they were incredibly eager to learn because they were convinced they could make a difference in the lives of their people. And so, early in the week, I caught myself being swept up in their enthusiasm. It was exhilarating to be teaching people who were completely engaged. So I encouraged them to be prophetic in their ministries. I urged them to speak to the real issues that their country was facing. And their responses suggested that was exactly what they intended to do. They wanted to help change the tide of the AIDS pandemic. They wanted to speak out against the abuses of the government. They wanted to start ministries that would make a difference in people’s quality of life. But as the week progressed, and I rode along on top of their enthusiastic optimism, I realized there was another truth they needed to hear. So, while being careful not to dampen their hopes, I began to talk about limits. I told stories from my own experience of having to learn to speak my truth and not expect everyone to agree with me. I told them that every day they would face the reality that helping one person would mean they couldn’t help another. And I told them that if they thought they were responsible for everyone and everything in their world, they would end up burned out and bitter. And as I wondered why I was telling them these things, it dawned on me that it was because the messenger had come running up to me many times in my ministry. I no longer assumed I could control the outcomes. And while that knowledge doesn’t make me any happier, it does provide a strange kind of peace in the middle of life’s hard moments. And, to be honest, it is sometimes a relief to remember that I’m not in charge of how the world turns out.

If your faith is rooted in the assumption that life will turn out a certain way, and that you and God can control that outcome, then you live every day in danger of losing your faith. Eventually the messenger will come and you will have to face the truth that it was all an illusion. Because even kings cannot guarantee what happens. But there is another kind of faith. It is the audacious faith that says even though I have no control over outcomes, I will extend compassion, and work for peace, and live with integrity. I will assume nothing except that living with the unconditional love modeled by Jesus makes the world a better place. And while that simple, humble faith knows there will be moments of grief, disappointment, and despair, it also knows this. Sometimes the messenger appears to say, “Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.” And isn’t it nice to be pleasantly surprised.