Trust is on my mind these days. Apparently, I’m not alone in wondering who to trust, as we grapple with considerable coincident crises, crises of health, economics, racial division and inequity, climate change. Science, politicians, media, election processes, institutional religion, law enforcement are all being questioned, against the background noise of what some call fake news, untruths and alternative facts. We never know what’s around the corner, but Covid-tide is a season of heightened anxiety fueled by uncertainty about what, who and how we can trust.

That has led me to think about all the ways that scripture calls us to trust. Easier said than done. (One of my college friends signed his religion papers with the acronym: SOKOP. Sounds okay on paper). The psalms, in a number of places, offer a variation of the following verse: Put not your trust in rulers or in any child of earth, for there is no help in them. (Psalm 146:3) Maybe you’re thinking about trust these days as well. Apparently, a lot of people are. If so, join me in working through a few questions:

1. Where do you draw strength? Asked another way: What are reliable sources of nourishment and sustenance for the journey? We live in a world offering lots of spiritual junk food, easy to swallow but not what we really need, not ultimately sustaining. We give our hearts to that which does not satisfy our hearts. It’s especially tough when so many Christian leaders reveal the hypocrisy of the church, nothing new under the sun. As one of those church leaders, when I hear the reasonable, verifiable complaint that the church is just filled with hypocrites, all I can say is, “Guilty as charged.” Then I revert to the prayer that both sustains and frightens me: “Let not those who hope in you be put to shame through me.” (Psalm 69:7) What would it mean to draw strength from the God who calls us into relationship?

2. Where do you place your hope? Asked another way: In whom do you place hope? The old hymn affirms: We may not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future. In many ways, we find ourselves in the midst of storms. Life these days feels like those small glass snow domes that get all shook up. We’re waiting for things to settle. Hoping. Jurgen Moltmann based his theology on hope. In a paper called The Spirit of Hope: Theology For A World In Peril, Moltmann wrote (pre-covid): “Terrorist violence, social and economic inequality, and most especially the looming crisis of climate change all contribute to a cultural moment of profound despair.” Moltmann reminds us that Christian faith has much to say in response to a despairing world. In “the eternal yes of the living God,” we affirm the goodness and ongoing purpose of our fragile humanity. What would it mean to embrace the text of the hymn (#665 in the 1982 Hymnal) “All my hope on God is founded,” music written by Herbert Howells after the death of his 9 year-old son?

3. Where do you give your heart? Asked another way: What’s love got to do with it? As our Presiding Bishop reminds us, it all boils down to love. If it isn’t about love, it isn’t about God. Ultimately our trust is an expression of the heart, an expression of love. As in any committed relationship, love is based on the trust that partners seek the best for each other. They seek to honor each other, with all they are and have. More Moltmann: “God’s love empowers us to love life and resist a culture of death.” What would it mean, in a vindictive season, to let love be our guide in some new and deeper way this week, not giving into fear or fretting but figuring out some way to make it all about love?

As people of faith, we are called to “trust in the Lord with all our hearts, leaning not on our own understanding, confident that God will direct our paths.” (A riff on Proverbs 3:5,6) In case you haven’t picked it up already, I’m finding that challenging. It’s presumptuous of me to suggest a solution, as I navigate a cloud of unknowing. But here’s the answer I’ve decided to go with. I’m going to literally and figuratively take a deep breath and trust that the God of love has the whole world in his hands. And I’m going to try to remember that a life of hope is not always easy. Even more Moltmann: “Faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience. It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it. Peace with God means conflict with the world.” Said another way: All manner of things shall be well, but we may be in for rough sledding before we get there.

On that cheery note, amidst it all, I trust you will know blessing and peace this week. Thanks for thinking this through with me.

The historian Eusebius (you all remember him, right?), in his Life of Constantine, tells how the emperor ordered the building of a complex in Jerusalem “on a scale of imperial magnificence,” to set forth as “an object of attraction and veneration to all, the blessed place of our Savior’s resurrection.” Constantine’s shrine included a large basilica for the Liturgy of the Word and a circular church, known as “The Resurrection” for the Liturgy of the Table. Toward one side of the courtyard separating the two buildings, through which worshippers had to pass on their way from Word to Sacrament, the top of Calvary’s hill was visible. In that courtyard, the solemn veneration of the cross took place on Good Friday. The dedication of the buildings was completed on September 14, 335. 1,685 years later, we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross on this day, with prayers and scripture readings taking us to the foot of the cross.

Labor Day is one of the few secular holidays finding its way into the liturgical calendar (along with Independence Day and Thanksgiving). Prayers and readings have been chosen to help us think about our labor, our efforts, our work, our ministry in the place to which God has brought us.

We often say that praying shapes our believing. What we pray molds our attitudes. Prayers also guide our actions. In this time of considerable coincident crises, contending with threats to health, a depleted economy and urgent racial reckoning, the collect for Labor Day, included above, has a lot to say. We ask for guidance in the work we do. We ask to be made mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers and to arouse our concern for those who are out of work. It says we’re in this together.

A political season can trigger (heated) debate about best ways to respond to the challenges we face. But the fact that Labor Day is a feast of the church, finding its place in the liturgical calendar, means that this is not simply a matter of politics. It’s something we do as part of the Jesus movement, part of the way of love. It’s something we do as people of faith, as disciples. That prompts a few questions to think about in the spare time provided on this holiday (not to mention time provided by sheltering in place).

First, the prayer notes that our lives are linked one with another. Whatever work we’re given to do, for pay or as volunteers, is meant for the common good. So let me ask: In what way do you see your life linked to all those who might be struggling these days, with issues of health or economics or race relations? Spend some quiet time asking God to show you that linkage. How will your efforts be dedicated to the common good?

Second, on this day, we hear a portion of a letter from St. Paul (again included above), writing to the Corinthian church. He compares their lives, as individuals and as a community, to a construction project. He talks about their labor in building. He asks them to think about the foundation on which they build. So let me ask: As you think about the life you are building, what’s the foundation? What does it mean to you to build on the foundation that is Jesus Christ? What about Jesus is foundational for you?

Finally, on this day, we’re invited to read an excerpt from the Sermon on the Mount (again, see above). Jesus challenges his listeners to think about what they value, what they treasure. In words that always make me stop and think, words we hear on Ash Wednesday, he tells them: Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. That verse prompted one of the desert fathers to issue this related challenge: Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy your heart. So let me ask: Where are you giving your heart these days? In the quiet of this Labor Day, think about what it is you treasure. What are the ways that we can treasure, we can value and honor the common good, the whole human family?

The times in which we live can drive us into isolated corners. The politics of the day encourage tribalism and division. It’s often hard to see the common good. Jesus calls us to another way, the way of love. How do you hear that call on this holiday, this holy day?