Warm Blanket Theology

A Sermon on Philippians 2:1-11

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Special to United Methodist Insight | Nov. 20, 2024

“I know things are hard right now. Is there anything I can do to help? Would you like a warm blanket?”

I see the woman’s eyes soften, holding back tears. The constant flow of people moving in and out of the main doors of the hospital's emergency department means the temperature can vary greatly. The trauma rooms are kept at a molten temperature. I always sweat in my blazer when I’m there for any length of time. But the waiting area of the emergency room? It's always ice cold.

As a hospital chaplain, I cannot fix the problems that bring patients and their families to the hospital. However, chaplains are trained in several lost arts; one of these is hospitality. Someone who's sitting in the plastic-covered chair, quietly praying for a miracle while their loved one is with the medical team, usually doesn't don’t want to talk. Their focus is on the crisis; they're waiting for medical updates, which I cannot provide.

But there is something I can do. The woman’s simple nod to my question leads me through the labyrinthine hallways of the emergency department to the shelves of fresh linens. At the same time, her family member continues to struggle for their life. She probably didn’t even notice that she was cold. She had bigger problems.

I’m convinced the work of the kingdom is warm blankets.

A friend's text

Last week, I received a text message from a friend who mentored me as a chaplain intern. “Just wanted to let you know I love you. I’m thinking about you. And I am here if you need to process,” her text said. As a spiritual care provider, I love helping and supporting other people. But like the woman in the emergency department, I didn’t even notice that I needed the support until it arrived. I had bigger problems.

I’m convinced the work of the kingdom is supportive friendships.

There is love and community all around us. Even on our worst days, we are surrounded by caring people. So why can’t we see it? What has distorted our vision?

Kate Bowler recently posted “A Blessing for Keeping a Soft Heart When Everything is Broken.” In her blessing, she calls the world “Terrible. Beautiful. Fragile.”

The ancient world was like that, too. Paul and the early Christians struggle to find their place in an aggressive and cruel society. Division is not a concept Americans invented. Christians in the ancient world faced persecution, torture, and death at the hands of the Romans. Nero, the emperor of the time, was threatened by them because they refused to worship him like a god. Imperial worship, worship of the emperor, was demanded by Nero to maintain his authority over the Roman Empire. Paul was born into a world where it wasn't safe to be different – an outsider, an outlier. Calling attention to yourself could get you killed. And yet, these early Christian churches, these small pockets of resistance, are not stopping. They choose to follow Jesus Christ, even to the point of risking their own lives.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul understands something critical we can reflect on today. The Philippians are not called to be the best Romans. Instead, Paul tells them, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5).

Dangerous words to write for Paul. The state murdered Jesus, and Paul is writing this letter from prison. And yet, it’s worth the risk because Paul understands the world—this terrible, beautiful, and fragile place—needs help. More than anything else, it needs love. He also understands that keeping our hearts soft doesn’t mean abandoning our values. It means investing in warm blanket theology: “I can’t fix this, but I want to help.”

Christ as ultimate role model

Paul wants us to see Christ as the ultimate role model because his life, death, and resurrection mean that our divisions will cease to divide us one day. We aspire to be one in the spirit, after all. Jesus models this to us by demonstrating love for God and his neighbor. He embodies the values of care and humility. You can’t change hearts and minds from a place of hatred. I will say that again: you can’t change hearts and minds from a place of hatred.

Back then and right now, echoing through time and eternity, in the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). That’s what having the mind of Christ means. Really and truly means.

That verse also inspired Fr. Peter Scholtes' hymn, “We Are One in the Spirit,” also known as “They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love.” He wrote it during the tumultuous 1960s, when racism, white supremacy, sexism, and ableism were tearing the country apart … does this sound familiar? The first stanza ends with the line, “And we pray that all unity may one day be restored.”

Friends, today is not that day.

That unity Jesus is requesting of his disciples? That Paul is championing?  That Fr. Scholtes hopes for? It’s not going to happen overnight. It didn’t happen in Paul’s lifetime and is unlikely to happen in ours. But do I believe Jesus Christ is the changer of hearts and minds? Who showed his wounded hands to his disciples and forgave them? Who forgave all of us? Of course, I do.

I would love to open my Bible, point my finger at this verse, and say, “See, you’re doing it wrong!” to many of the people I encounter. I want to be so righteous about this—like, “I understand it, and you don’t!” But that’s not what is needed.

Keeping a soft heart in a broken world

Instead, I am proposing we engage in a little warm blanket theology. The key to keeping a soft heart in a broken world is helping others. A warm cup of tea. A friendly smile. Petting a friend’s dog. Living in community with one another. Embodying hospitality.

“I know things are hard right now. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just wanted to let you know I love you. I’m thinking about you.”

These are ways to do the work of the kingdom. These are ways to align yourself with the mind of Christ. These are the first steps to a more caring and more loving world.

It’s okay if you’re not ready to tackle the big things right now. By putting one foot in front of the other, you continue to walk the path God called you to go. In ways large and small, you are engaging with the work. Our congregation’s passion for social justice will not be dimmed by opening our softened hearts. Love happens in many ways. Let our care for others be a light in this terrible, beautiful, and fragile world.

Sara Cowley is a hospital chaplain in McKinney, Texas, and a candidate for ordained deacon in the Horizon Texas Annual Conference of The United Methodist Church. She delivered this sermon on Nov. 17, 2024, at St. Stephen United Methodist Church, Mesquite, Texas.