It's harder to be thankful as the oppressor than the oppressed (thoughts on Thanksgiving, Habakkuk, Ferguson, and whether we should be affected))

Scripture: Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:2-4, 3:17-19

The following is a transcript

 

We’re reading from Habakkuk today, which is one of my favorite books in the Bible—also, coincidentally, impossible to pronounce. Habakkuk’s preaching has a good deal of weight because he is preaching from a place where he has absolutely nothing. It begs the question in this season of Thanksgiving: how can you be thankful when you have nothing? Thankfulness is something we associate with having things. That makes sense. I mean, it’s much easier when you have things, but Habakkuk tells us something different—that he is thankful precisely for having nothing.

He says, “Though the fig tree does not blossom and no fruit is on the vines… though the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation” (Hab 3:17-18)

Though I have nothing… I will praise God for everything.

Habbakuk sounds so un-American. We tend to associate good things as things that we thank God for and bad things as things that we pray to God to remove from our lives. When we say we're "thankful in all things" usually it means that we find the positive in the negative--not that the bad things themselves are worthy of being thankful for. But on the other hand this attitude of Habakkuk is really refreshing, because he’s treating God as more than a good luck charm. We need more of that. At certain times in life this philosophy is very useful. This is why this scripture from Habakkuk has been used against regimes in Nazi Germany and apartheid in South Africa. It’s scripture for people who are being murdered and ruthlessly suppressed. People who have nothing but discover that being thankful even then gives them a kind of power.

Thankfulness gives hints of what justice might look like. Habbakuk writes, “So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous— therefore judgment comes forth perverted” (Hab 1:4).

That’s a tough thing for us to hear because Habakkuk is speaking for the lowly, the outcast, and the rejected. He’s not speaking from our perspective in 21^st century America. He’s not speaking from a culture that has things. Which is a reminder that we need again and again to remember that we cannot put ourselves in other peoples’ shoes, even though we try.

I can’t read this book this week without thinking of what is happening in Ferguson, MO and around the country. Now, I bring this up hesitantly because I think with current events we tend to have our positions already pretty firmly established. We believe we already know the underlying causes and we have our stances entrenched, so what difference am I really trying to make here? Am I really trying to change minds? Or am I really preaching God’s word when I do this?

So rather than telling you what to think or believe I want to stay true to the message that Habakkuk does bring up in the context that you can’t put yourselves in other peoples’ shoes. You can’t understand the person who is being oppressed—not unless you stand in their shoes--and, moreover, you can’t stand in their shoes.

What’s happening in Ferguson is about more than one case. I think we mostly recognize that, even if it doesn’t necessarily change the way that we think about it. It’s about people crying out, in those same words from Habbakuk: “So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous— therefore judgment comes forth perverted” (Hab 1:4). Whatever you believe about what is happening it is a cry from people who feel oppressed.

Habbakuk leaves us with the realization that we’re all wicked… and all righteous; all fearful; we are all good and bad —we are both victims and perpetrators. He doesn’t remove the blame from the oppressed or slacken the blame on the oppressor, but always he’s looking for justice, real justice, that we cannot yet see. Habbakuk convicts us all, frees us all. We have to start there.

In the wake of this week’s events many prophets have come to light. Modern prophets often don’t look like me. There is no school for prophets that I know of. They aren’t usually seminary trained, and they don’t often appear in the kinds of places you might look for them. Instead, these are the kinds of people who speak wisdom when everybody else is going crazy. And when they speak everybody else shuts up and listens. In this case, one such prophet is Benjamin Watson, who is a professional football player for the New Orleans Saints who this week wrote, “I'M ENCOURAGED, because ultimately the problem is not a SKIN problem, it is a SIN problem. SIN is the reason we rebel against authority. SIN is the reason we abuse our authority. SIN is the reason we are racist, prejudiced and lie to cover for our own. SIN is the reason we riot, loot and burn. BUT I'M ENCOURAGED because God has provided a solution for sin through his son Jesus…”

It’s nice when the professional football players give my sermon for me. That’s really all I had to say today. It’s basically what Habakkuk says as well: We have a sin problem.

I wonder here in Kittson County how we’re affected by all this. Mostly we’re not, I think. On the one hand, I don’t think we can champion every issue. We can't get behind every wrong in the world in a big way, and certainly when we’re distant from it geographically and culturally it doesn’t hit quite as close to home. But I also wonder if we’re only ever upset about things that are in our self-interest. And I don’t just mean us as individuals but also in the self-interest of our children and grandchildren. When an issue doesn’t seem to affect us, do we really ever stand up for it?

That worries me, because the kinds of people that God speaks through are usually the persecuted. They are usually like Habakkuk, people who come from a place where they have nothing, and I’m worried because if we’re never oppressed ourselves then maybe God’s word is just missing. Maybe God’s word just doesn’t come to us—at least not as acutely, at least not in the ways we most desperately need it. If we don’t actually have that feeling of needing God, then maybe we’re never going to hear that word from God.

The words of Habakkuk are hope for the hopeless, calling on justice for the unjust, which is great, except they require a good deal of introspection. On which side of the fence do we stand? Are we the just or the unjust? Are we the hope-filled or the hopeless? Are we the ones who have much to be thankful for or the ones who seemingly don’t have anything?

Maybe the hard part isn’t being thankful with nothing. Maybe the hard part is being thankful having what we need, and maybe it’s hard because it’s easy to forget from whom that blessing comes. Don’t forget. Not your blessings, not the struggles of those less fortunate than you, and, most importantly, not the one who made visible that promise—who in this season of Advent promises a great leveling of the valley and mountains. Justice, real justice. Don’t forget Jesus. Christmas is coming.