Be a Caretaker

Psalm 139

On Friday, a shooter walked into a mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand and opened fire.  Then he moved on to another mosque.  Further bloodshed was averted when a caretaker jumped on the gunman from behind and squeezed him so tight, he dropped his weapon.  The caretaker must not have been familiar with guns, for he was unable to find the trigger.  Perhaps he had never picked up a gun before.  But that didn’t stop him.  He still chased the shooter away.

I remember several years ago, on the Sunday after Sandy Hook, several of you were dismayed that I didn’t mention that incident during the sermon.  I have had a few years to think about that decision, and today I want to reflect on both the children at Sandy Hook, and the worshippers in Christchurch.  Our Scripture is a psalm on the sanctity of life.  Our psalm teaches us that God is always present with us.  Inescapable.  When I heard the story about the caretaker, I wondered.  What was his job description?  Did it cover confronting a man in the act of killing persons who worshipped in the building?  I suspect not.  And yet, he did.

He was a caretaker.  When persons were in prayer on Friday, which is a holy day to Muslims, they are bowed down to the floor.  Quite unable to protect themselves or see danger.  But the caretaker was there.  When he heard shots fired, he leaped into action.

Care for others is at the very heart of our humanity.  Without it, none of us would be alive today, sitting in this sanctuary.  We are here because someone took care of us.  Care that is the very heart of God. We are God’s image-bearers.  Fearfully and wonderfully made.  Intricately woven together in the depths of the earth.  All our days numbered when none of them yet existed.  All those children in Sandy Hook who were slain were fearfully and wonderfully made.  Intricately woven together in the depths of the earth.  The hairs on their heads counted.  Children of God.

All the persons gathered to worship on Friday in Christchurch were fearfully and wonderfully made.  Intricately woven together in the depths of the earth.  All their days numbered when none of them yet existed.  The hairs on their heads counted.  Children of God.

But there is more to this beautiful psalm than these words.  There are also these: “O that you would kill the wicked, O God, and that the bloodthirsty would depart from me…Those who speak of you maliciously.  Those that lift themselves up against you for evil!  Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord, and do I not loathe those who rise up against you?  I hate them with perfect hatred.  I count them as my enemies.”

Can you hear these words echo in the mosques filled with persons bowing to the floor in prayer as shots rang out?  Can you listen to the rage in these words?  Is not anyone who cuts down persons who are bowed down in prayer an enemy of God?  Is this not evil?  Yes.  Yes it is.  And if we have seen too many tragedies to feel it, we need to tear open our hearts and let it sink in.  All of it.

But this is not the psalmist’s last word.  The last word is a prayer for guidance.  “Search me and know my heart.  Try me and know my thoughts.  See if there is any wicked way in me.  And lead me in the way everlasting.”

Scripture teaches us that, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.  We are not to take vengeance and violate God’s precious human life.  And thank God for that.  Left to our own devices, we would surely end up doing the very things we hate.

So, what are we to do?  We are to care for one another.  We are to be a caretaker.  The man who finally stopped the violence rushed in with nothing in his hands and grabbed on to the shooter with all his might.  Chased him away with his own gun.

Today, I challenge you to be a caretaker.  Care-takers are fierce people.  Just try to get between them and the people they love and protect.  A lion and her cub.  A mother and her baby.  The job isn’t pretty.  It’s gritty and gutsy and courageous.  And it usually doesn’t involve rushing into a room full of violence.

Usually it takes the form of tiny choices we make each day.  Choices to love.  Choices to remember.  Choices to hold up the Muslims among us, who will suffer even more because to a senseless violent act that took place half-way around the world.

What did we say to ourselves 6 years ago when the children were killed at Sandy Hook?  That it would never happen again?  We must do more.  And what we need to do may turn out to be harder than rushing into a room full of violence.

Ask yourself today…what would it take to stop this.  Let God search your heart, lead you on the right path, and send you the fire of the Holy Spirit so you can stand.  Don’t let those children, and these people, and all the others…die in vain.  Be a caretaker.  By the grace of God, be a caretaker.