Becoming like God
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale
July 24, 2022—Proper 12C
Genesis 18:20-32; Luke 11:1-13
Some people say that couples who are together for a long time start to look like each other. I’ve never personally experienced this, unless you count the fact that Mike and I once inadvertently picked out the same frames when we went to get glasses. But there’s no way around the fact that people who spend a lot of time together do begin to resemble each other in various ways. For me, it’s more likely to be a turn of phrase, like the way those around me use the word “indeed” far more than the average, or the way I now use “Copy” almost as often as I use “Cool” as a standard affirmative. That comes from being a Law Enforcement spouse for six years.
We hear words and phrases, we witness behaviors and ways of being, we immerse ourselves in patterns of thinking and views about the world … and they form us. We begin to reflect them, even without noticing. We begin to look alike, not only with our spouses, but our friends, our closest community, maybe even the opinion pages we choose to read every day.
It happens, as well, with God. If we live with God … spend time with God … listen to what God is saying … we will start to become more like God. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, they call this theosis: insisting that the purpose of human life isn’t simply obedience to God; it is to be united with God. To begin to resemble God.
This should not be confused with having a God-complex. Those with a God-complex have actually projected their own selfish delusions onto God. What they desire is attention and power over others, and the God they emulate is a very limited one: the God who needs only the titles of king and judge, and who carries those titles in a very worldly way. They have projected our human experiences of justice and control into the heavens, and that’s the part of being “like God” that they want. So not only are they narcissists, but they’ve ignored the far larger understanding of the nature of God to be found in scripture, where we find such images as the mother hen who shelters us; the shepherd, whose only desire is to lead and protect us; the broken-hearted spouse, who weeps over our faithlessness but longs to welcome us back; the faithful friend, who truly listens to the story of our life; the humble servant, washing our feet after a long day; and the one who is willing to suffer, so that all of us might live.
This is the God we might begin to resemble, the God whose habits and ways we might begin to pick up, as we spend more time in the Presence.
“Abba,” Jesus tells us to begin. An intimate title: father … daddy almost. A title that invites us to draw close to God, to recognize that God will draw close to us. “Father” might work that way for you, and it might not. Either way, it’s not the only name for God. Choose one that calls to you: one that has resonances of respect, love, authority, protection, and relationship; one that recognizes that the one you address is the Source of all that you are.
Abba, we cry, Blessed be your name! When we turn to God, when we give our attention to God, we honor God. Even more, when we turn to the world, we can continue giving honor to God. Because the things we do in God’s name can demonstrate God’s holiness to the world. Or … not. On Working Preacher this week, they suggested that what we do as religious people affects God’s reputation (whether God’s name is hallowed), and asked us to consider what our actions might be telling the world about the nature and character of God (Matt Skinner, Sermon Brainwave podcast 854: Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, July 24, 2022). What story do our attitudes and behaviors tell, about a holiness that goes far beyond adherence to a certain set of rules?
That story will get deeper and truer, as we bring it all into our prayer. “Your kingdom come,” Jesus continues. This is what we most deeply long for, this is what we need: for God’s kingdom to break into our world. For us, and through us, and occasionally despite us. God’s kingdom, which will break in to transform all the ways in humanity builds kingdoms based solely in the God-complexes of power and greed and selfishness.
How will we recognize God’s kingdom? The rest of the prayers explains it, beginning with that bread. We will all have the food that we need. Every day. No-one will go hungry. Hallowed be God’s name!
We will forgive and we will be forgiven. This line is actually what pointed me towards the idea of us becoming more like God. The translation is tricky, to be honest. In the version I read today, it almost sounds like we’re asking God to follow our example: we’ve forgiven others, so God should forgive us! Perhaps it’s the other way around. Mostly, it points to the connection between forgiving and being forgiven. It’s hard to do or accept either one, if you cannot do or accept the other. But when we enter the holy ground of forgiveness, the kingdom of God has truly come near. And God’s name is hallowed.
After food and forgiveness comes “save us from the time of trial.” We also hear this translated “lead us not into temptation,” and both ideas are helpful. The same word is used for the temptations and hunger of Jesus’ time in the desert, and in Gethsemane, when he knows the authorities will soon be sending him to the cross. It’s also the word used in Revelation to describe the ordeal that is to come (which is also to say that it’s the word used to describe the persecution and suffering that Christians were going through, when Revelation was written).
From trials and temptations. The inbreaking of God’s kingdom will protect the peoples of the world from the ravages of earthly powers who seek only violence and control. And the inbreaking of God’s kingdom in our hearts will protect us from our own worst impulses. Hallowed be your name.
We are invited into God’s presence. To come close to the source of our being, to one who would protect and guide, love and serve. We approach with our needs wide open: we are hungry, we are in need of forgiveness, we are afraid.
You probably hunger for more than bread. What is it you hunger for? Your need to forgive and be forgiven surely extends to places you haven’t even recognized yet. Where could forgiveness bring you healing? And what is it you are afraid of? What keeps you awake at night and paralyzes you during the day. What has you raging, or renders you catatonic, or oddly manic?
Bring all of that to your prayer. Raise it up to God, whisper it in God’s ear, scream it to the heavens and fling it across the altar. Spend time being known by God in this way, and in your weakness, you will find God’s strength. Spend time with God, hearing God’s dream for you, and you will be caught up in God’s dream for the world. You will find the image of God growing within you, in ways that you likely would never have expected. Spend more time with God, and you will become more like God, my friends. May it be so. Amen.