Speaking Truth to Power

1 Kings 19: 9-18        Ps 85:8-13            Rom 10:4-15            Matt 14:22-33

They say everyone has at least one book in them, waiting to be written. I’ve never been sure of mine, but in the few weeks I think I’ve discovered it… My book would be called, ‘Things they never taught you at theological college’. And it is volumes and volumes long!

Two weeks ago, during that horrendous storm, a poor woman beat the door of the rectory in a near hysterical state, saying ‘you need to come quickly. Someone has left a dead body on our doorstep’. It turned out it was an abandoned urn of cremated remains that was eventually reunited with the next of kin but, yes, they never taught that at theological college.

And this past week has provided material for at least a few chapters, if not an entire volume.

On Monday I went to Canberra to join a delegation of 40 Christian leaders, all women, coordinated by a movement named Micah Australia. Micah empowers Christians to advocate for global justice to end extreme poverty, stop conflict, and protect communities from climate change. They do this in a variety of ways, one of which is this annual event at Parliament House. Now in its 5^th year, a representative from every Christian denomination and charity is invited to walk those corridors of power, meeting with politicians from across the political spectrum to lobby on global justice.

This year, 40 of us – in small groups – met with 43 politicians; 21 from the ALP, 11 coalition members, 3 greens and 6 independent or cross bench members.  Our delegation from WA – one Anglican, one Baptist and one from the Salvos met with Senator Matt O’Sullivan, Patrick Gorman, Kate Chaney and the president of the Senate, Sue Lines. And in each meeting, in each chamber, and in the presidential suite, we asked these politicians to campaign for a Safer World for All, beginning with the poorest and most marginalised people in the world.

We told them, on the current trajectory, by 2030 there will be 575 million people living in extreme poverty. There will be 600 million people facing hunger and 84 million children (predominantly girls) not in education.

We reminded them that 22 of our 26 nearest neighbours are developing countries and the border between Australia and PNG represents the starkest difference, in terms of rich versus poor, in the whole world.

We showed them that Australia’s global aid budget has slipped from 14^th to 27^th, now sitting alongside Korea in terms of how financially compassionate we are towards our global neighbours.

And we told them why we care.

43 political leaders heard that as Christian leaders we are passionate about action being taken because we believe all people are made in the image of God and are full of dignity, value and worth. And we seek a world where there is justice for the oppressed, food for the hungry and nobody is left behind. And then a few of us shared our own experiences of global poverty. My colleague from Anglican Overseas Aid spoke about visiting Kenya where riverbeds are completely dried up and famines are the worst in 40 years. I spoke about how poverty pushes people towards selling their own children into slavery, so other family members might be able to eat.

Each meeting was different. We debated climate change and the voice referendum and what our political leaders could do to change the world for the most vulnerable.

And I kept thinking ‘they never taught me this at theological college’. And they didn’t. But the truth is, as people who follow the God who shows preferential treatment towards the poor, we absolutely have something to say in this space. We have more than 2000 years’ experience of following the One who stands up for those most in need and who calls others to lead with compassion and justice, asking us to go to those in power and speak the truth.

And sometimes it is terrifying. Of course it is, because we feel ill-equipped to do all God asks of us. We feel tongue-tied or inexperienced or like someone else would do a better job.

But we mustn’t forget the lessons from this morning’s gospel reading.

When Jesus calls us, it might feel like we are flailing around in a storm – I mean, what can 40 women say in Parliament House about the needs of the world that can make any difference? It might feel like the waters are battering us and we might be terrified, but Jesus comes in peace – take heart, it is I, he says, do not be afraid.

At our briefing the day before, we were asked how we were feeling.

Terrified I said. I am terrified.

But Jesus came in peace. More than that, he came in peace and then he came in power, and I went from terrified to brave. Bold, even. We have something to say in the face of poverty and injustice because we serve a God who says this is not ok. This is not how it is meant to be. Be more compassionate. Care for those in need. Make change – yes you. And go and speak truth to power and call them to make change too.

So, Jesus comes in peace and tells us not to be afraid and he invites us to do hard things – come, he says. Come. I’ve got you. And when we accept that invite, when we step out and do hard things sometimes it is overwhelming, but Jesus reaches out God’s hand and catches us. And it wasn’t in the walking on the water that people saw he was God, it was when he calmed the storm, when he took away the fear, when he takes our hand, it is then people say, ‘truly you are the son of God’ and worship him.

And, no they never taught me that in theological college. We never got trained in storming the corridors of power and calling politicians to account. We never learned how to lobby or petition for the needs of the poor. But the disciples never got taught to walk on water either.

And the same hand that drags them from drowning, and the same voice that says peace, is the same hand that leads us and the same voice that calls us. So, may we take hold of that hand, listen to that voice, go where we are led and do what is asked of us and in it all, may we know we are held and called by the one who is truly the Son of God, and may we worship. Amen.