RSS

Category Archives: Ministry

Security Blankets

(a sermon for August 11, 2019, the 9th Sunday after Pentecost, based on Luke 12:13-21)

(Note: an audio version of this message can be found here)

I’m sure that anyone here who’s ever been involved in the lives of very young children knows a little something about security blankets; because, as you also know, just about every child has one… and it matters!

Now, this might be an actual blanket, something along the line of that which Linus always carried in the “Peanuts” comic strips (and from which the very term “security blanket” became part of the language), or else it might be a favorite pillow, a tattered teddy bear or beloved doll.  But the form is much less important than its function: a “security blanket,” you see, serves as something tangible and comforting for that little one to hold on to during anxious times.

And I remember this well; when they were young all three of our children carried around with them some form of “luvvy,” as we referred to them in our house. And I’ll never forget because over those years I engaged in many a scavenger hunt for the sake of recovering a lost or misplaced luvvy!  In the wee hours of the morning, in the midst of torrential downpours, on family car trips turning around to go back home one hour into a three hour drive:  I remember once driving across town back to church on a Sunday afternoon through a blizzard just so I could dig around on all fours in a snow bank (!), all so Jake could have his luvvy and stop crying!  Because, as Linus himself once remarked after a struggle with Snoopy over his blanket, “The struggle for security knows no season!”

But it was okay… as a parent you know that if an old piece of quilt or a rag doll can bring some warmth and comfort to your beloved child on a cold, dark night, that’s what you want; and if it garners you a little bit of extra sleep in the process, so much the better! And besides, they’re only that young for a little while, right; and you know that eventually your children outgrow their need for a security blanket (of course, I’ve known a lot of college students who still quietly count those old stuffed animals as amongst their most precious belongings, but I digress!).

Actually, it seems to me that even as adults, most of us still have some kind of security blanket; it’s just that now they tend to be a whole lot more complex in nature than your average luvvy.  As we grow older, you see, our security blankets take the form of retirement accounts, 401k pension plans and insurance policies.   A warm and safe home, a good reliable car, enough money in the bank to see you through whatever rainy day comes your way: let’s face it; these are the things that most of us seek in order to give ourselves some modicum of security amid the transitory nature of life.  And there’s nothing wrong with that at all; in fact, it’s pretty much basic common sense and responsible behavior to build up an abundance to provide for the uncertainty of the future.  I know that every year when I get these statements in the mail from the Pension Boards of the UCC detailing the growth of our retirement account, I look at those numbers and always think to myself, “Well, there, at least I’ve got that.”  Whatever else is going on, no matter what our challenges might happen to be, there’s this small sense of security in knowing that once I’m retired there’ll be some money coming in.  Granted, by and large clergy don’t “retire rich,” (or at least this one won’t!) but at the very least there will be some level of abundance, right… and that does seem to me like a good thing!

I guess this is why our gospel text for this morning seems so jarring to our ears.  At the face of it, Luke is telling about a couple of brothers feuding over the family inheritance, one of whom who comes to Jesus asking him to settle the issue.  But you realize very quickly that Jesus has no intention of arbitrating the just division of the family estate (in fact, as The Message interprets Jesus’ response, he says, “Mister, what makes you think it’s any of my business” who gets what!); rather, Jesus uses the opportunity to teach on matters of greed and covetousness. “Take care,” Jesus says, “for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”  Fair enough, even if that’s not the daily message we get from Madison Avenue and a culture of affluence, though I do think that most of us realize that the pathway of enlightenment is not found while driving the same luxury car that Matthew McConaughey drives!  We know better; most of us know at some level that life isn’t about our money or our things.

But Jesus doesn’t stop there; he goes on to tell them all a parable about a successful businessman who has done well for himself; in fact, he has “produced [so] abundantly” that he needs to build new storehouses for all the extra grain and the rest of his goods.   He’s done well for himself and he’s provided amply for his own future, and it would seem as though he had earned the right, as he himself put it, “to relax, eat, drink be merry,” to retire securely and comfortably, certainly as any one of us would be wont to do.  Or, in his own words (via The Message, again), “I’ll say to myself, Self, you’ve done well!  You’ve got it made!”

But then, as Jesus tells the story, God intervenes and utters words that rip through this man’s self-satisfied plan like a clap of thunder on a hot summer night:  “You fool!  This very night your life is being demanded of you. And these things you have prepared, whose will they be?”   And so it will be, concludes Jesus, for all those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.

So much for retiring rich!  

I don’t care who you are, God’s words come off here as harsh and cold; tonight you die, fool, so what good is a 401k plan gonna do you?  And the worst part of it all is that this so-called “rich fool” really was no different than what you and I would at least aspire to be someday!   I mean, who among us does not want to be “set” financially, at least for a few years; truly, most of us work for a lifetime precisely toward that kind of goal!  So the question becomes, how do you and I make the transition from what we consider to be  good and prudent common sense to that which makes us a fool in God’s sight?    When is it that our “security blankets” offer no security at all?

Well, first off, this parable is a not-so subtle reminder that our lives will not go on forever.  I’m reminded here of a “Far Side” cartoon from several years back in which a woman in widow’s garb is looking out of the picture window of her house at a large cloud in the sky; and as she’s watching, a TV set, golf clubs, piano and even a dog are flying out the door of the house and up to the cloud.  And the woman says, “Aaaaaa… it’s George.  And he’s taking it with him!”  Well, life is not like that; our lives will come to an end and we can’t take it with us.  Our possessions, no matter how impressive, are no hedge against the ending of our lives.  All those things to which we cling, all of that which we fleetingly hoped would secure ourselves against our own mortality; it doesn’t work, it’s a lie.   So Jesus is right:  life does not consist in the abundance of our possessions, any more than wealth can be the source of our well-being.  That’s the mistake that the rich fool made: this assumption that however savvy he may have been about his life and about his financial situation, somehow he was in control of things. He wasn’t.

God is in control of things, and you and I had best figure that out now; for not only, as the parable suggests, is the knowledge of it the difference between life and death, but it’s the place where the kingdom of heaven dwells.

A few years ago at a former parish, I was asked by a man who was not a member of the church if I might come to his home and meet with his wife for the purpose of planning her funeral.   By this time she’d been ill for a number of months, and she clearly knew her time was short; so there were things she wanted to discuss with me before she died, which not only included what she wished to have happen at her eventual memorial service, but also a few things that she was quite adamant not happen!

Actually, as I recall, despite the subject matter the conversation turned out to rather pleasant and quite lively as she proceeded to grill this local pastor about hymns, scripture passages and the theological and social significance of all the various and sundry traditions that go along with such gatherings in the church!  Eventually, however, she began to talk about other matters as well; telling me about things she was doing in these waning days of her life, as well as expressing concern as to some things she felt she needed to do in the time she had left.  Notice that I didn’t say what she wanted to do, but what she needed to do; as evidenced by a long list of tasks, both large and small, that she’d written very neatly and carefully on a folded piece of paper and to which she referred often as we spoke.

For instance, there had been an old friend with whom at one time she’d been very close, but since a falling out years before, had hardly spoken. She’d long regretted what had happened; but now, finally, she’d sought out her friend to apologize and make things right. Her list was filled with things like that, and so much more; most prominently a series of mostly small promises she’d made to her children and grandchildren over the years that she was intent on honoring, as well as bits of wisdom and words of love she was determined to share with husband and family and friend alike.

It was with great enthusiasm and, dare I say, a distinct tone of joy in her voice that she described to me these crucial tasks that lay before her.  And as I listened, it suddenly occurred to me that I was sitting in the lovely living room of a beautiful house, surrounded by a huge yard with a swimming pool in the back; this was clearly everything this woman and her husband had worked so many years to have and to enjoy.  And yet it was also clear that there was not a single item on her list of crucial things to do that had anything at all to do with her home, her yard, her pool, her wealth or her “things.”  Everything on that list had to do with the people she loved; it was about setting things aright; about extending as much love and care as she possibly could in whatever time she had left in this life.  She was determined to make it all happen; and even as frail as her body had become, there was nonetheless a lightness to her heart and a brightness about her spirit that was a true inspiration.

In the end, you see, in her own way this woman had found that which Jesus said had alluded the rich fool, and which alludes so many of us besides: the true treasure that comes in being rich toward God.

Why is it that it takes a reminder of our own mortality to wake us up to the fact that our only true “security blanket” comes in following God?   How is it that we hear this “good news” spoken to us time after time but we fail to truly receive it as our own, preferring instead to cling to so much that ultimately means nothing to us?   Make no mistake, we’ll still make payments toward our retirement accounts, and make sure our life insurance policies are up to date and adequate for our needs; dreaming of the day we might be able to sit back, for once, not worry and take it easy.

And we should… we should be doing all of that.

But here’s the good news of the gospel:  that even as we seek to secure ourselves in this world we know so well, Christ is calling us to live as part of another world: the real world, a place and a way of life where life does not consist in the abundance of possessions, buy where loving God and neighbor is wealth indeed.

Christ calls us now to follow him, and walk in his ways, that we might find that place that we might know what true security is.

Will you follow, beloved?

Consider this as we come to the Lord’s Table, and may our thanks be to God.

AMEN and AMEN.

© 2019  Rev. Michael W. Lowry

 

 

 

Advertisements
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on August 11, 2019 in Family Stories, Jesus, Life, Ministry, Sermon

 

Tags: , ,

Why We’re Here

(A sermon for July 7, 2019, the 4th Sunday After Pentecost, based on Galatians 6:1-16)

(Note: An audio version of this message can be found here )

One of the things I’ve come to realize over the course of 35-plus years (!) in this work is that it’s pretty much a rare occasion when your identity is not wrapped up in being a minister!

Not that this is a problem for me; truly, I think you know that I love what I do, and that this calling to ministry is part and parcel of who I am!  That said, however, I must confess that there have been moments when I’d have just as soon remained anonymous: like when you’re all dirty and grubby and tired from having worked outside all day and you’re rushing to get to the post office before it closes, only to be met in line by a perfect stranger who recognizes you as a local pastor, and wants to know all about your church; or like up when you’ve been invited to a marshmallow roast with your child and you end up being cornered by two men from another church in another town who want you to settle a horrible dispute they’ve been having in their congregation about how much the organist should be paid (true story); and let’s not even talk about those well-meaning people who wish to pick your brain about end times, the virgin birth and where Cain got his wife… all while standing in the frozen food aisle (also a true story)!

I think I speak for a lot of my colleagues in ministry when I say to you that this is why we tend to keep a low profile while we’re on vacation!  And, I know, we’re not alone in this need for some selective anonymity: police officers, teachers, doctors and all kinds of people in the public eye all have the same experience. All I know is that being identified as a “clergy type” just sort of goes with the territory!

By the same token, however, I’ve also discovered over the years that while you may be able to take the boy out the church it’s hard to take the church out of the boy!   I remember a camping trip in the White Mountains with Lisa and the kids; and I’m walking my daughter Sarah – who was just “itty-bitty” at the time (!) – to the campground’s lavatory facilities.  It’s well after dark, so we’re walking our way down the road with our flashlights shining and out of nowhere comes this other little girl, not much older than Sarah, who had somehow gotten separated from her mother in the darkness and was now unsure of where she was and how to get back to her campsite.

With a shaky voice, she asked if she might please walk with us, because she’d gotten lost and now she was pretty scared.  Of course you can, I replied, and in my best Daddy voice, I told her, don’t worry, we’ll get you back to your Mom; after all, you know, it’s really easy to get turned around in the dark!  And that must have been all the assurance she needed because then the little girl opened up and told us her entire life story; probably sharing much more than her parents would want me to know!  But that was okay; because as far as that little girl was concerned we were old and trusted friends!  It ended up that since her mother was also busy looking, we managed to bring the two of them back together fairly easily.  A scared child was home again safe and sound, a mother’s panic was replaced by relief and gratitude, and in the process perfect strangers had become caring friends.

Now was this an “official” pastoral activity of great religious significance?  No… truth be told, that night I was probably in more of a “Daddy Mode” than in “Pastor Mode!”  But thinking back on it now, I realize that in the truest sense it was ministry; in this case, quite literally a ministry of love and light to the lost.  It was a small moment; but one in which faith and kindness came into play in a real and meaningful way.

Christian ministry is not so much a job as it is a vocation; a way of life and living and love.  In other words, if you’re a minister of Jesus Christ, you’re always on duty, whether you’re “on the job” or on vacation; or for that matter, even when you’re waiting in line at Market Basket!  But lest you think this only relates to those of us who work in the church or perhaps have an “Rev” in front of their names, understand that this applies to you as well; it applies to each one here because as Christians, ministry is a vocation that belongs to each one of us.  It’s a calling that touches all the other tasks that provide the ebb and flow of our daily lives, no matter what it is that we do in earning a living, raising our families, making choices and setting priorities for ourselves; ministry is involved in everything that you and I go through in our days so that it might be lived with some sense of dignity and integrity.

Actually, when you come down to it, it’s all about “reap[ing] whatever you sow” in the everyday of life, “…doing what is right… [and] work[ing] for the good of all.”  It’s about “bear[ing] one another’s burdens,” not as mere philosophy but as a way of living.  It’s about true forgiveness and the restoration of others “in a spirit of gentleness.”  It’s about viewing those around us not as strangers or mere acquaintances, but brothers and sisters to be loved and cared for in the same manner as Jesus Christ has loved us.  It’s about bringing ourselves to people who need to hear the good news of God’s kingdom; by our words, yes, but more essentially by the example of our very lives.

It’s true ministry; it’s what’s sometimes referred to in Christian theology as “the priesthood of all believers;” and, friends, it’s why we’re here.

In our text for this morning Paul is seeking to teach the Galatians, in essence, how they should act toward one another.  These new Christians at Galatia, you see, had a bent toward, shall we say, “scriptural correctness;” that is, they concerned themselves with staying wholly true to “the law of Christ,” almost to the point of becoming like the Pharisees.  In other words, they were devoted to doing everything right, spiritually speaking, but they were doing it arrogantly and without any kind of sympathy for others, and were isolating themselves from the rest of the world.  So the question here is, how much is too much?  When does staying true to the gospel and to God’s law – as important and essential as that is – get in the way of true faith and risk mocking God in the process?

What Paul seeks to remind them is that our Christian duty – our vocation, our job – is not just to ourselves but also to others.  We are called to bear one another’s burdens; we are supposed to help those who have gotten lost in regards to their lives and faith, so that we might gently lead them home.  And we’re to be generous with others; open and giving, without making everything we do an exercise in self-indulgence and false piety. You are to model your life in true adherence to God’s law: in the words of Sarah Henrich of Lutheran Seminary, you are to “do what is given you to do on behalf of your neighbor, as God on behalf of God’s people did what needed to be done for them.”  Because make no mistake, “God is not mocked.”  Or, as The Message says it, “No one makes a fool of God.” After all, says Paul, we do reap whatever we sow.  “What a person plants, he will harvest.” (The Message, again) “The person who plants selfishness, ignoring the needs of others – ignoring God! – harvests a crop of weeds.  All he’ll have to show for his life is weeds!”  But, Paul goes on to say, “the one who plants in response to God, letting God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life.”

And isn’t that what the kingdom is all about?  And isn’t that why we’re here?

The late Marshall McLuhan famously said that “the medium is the message.”  He was referring to the massive effect of media on our collective lives; how what we see on a television screen, or in the movies or in the papers ends up being what a great many people assume to be real about life, living and world (a theory, I dare say, that though posited in the 1960’s has never been more true than it is in 2019).  But may I suggest to you that’s it’s also true as regards the church and its mission… our mission.  Friends, we are called by Jesus himself to be about the business of God’s Kingdom; but if we truly want to do that, then we need to be living, acting and being as though that Kingdom has already come in its fullness; indeed, we are the medium that is the message!   We need to live a life that shows forth the truth that love is the only truly redemptive power; we have to order our priorities as persons and a people so that the others will not come to assume that the predominant culture is one of manipulation, violence and neglect.  If you and I are to proclaim Christ as the Lord of life, if we ever expect to change the world by Christ’s love, then we have to live unto the change that Christ has made in each of us!

Let me ask you something this morning: can you love your neighbor?  And I don’t mean in a greeting card kind of way, either; I mean can you really love your neighbor; are you able to do it?  Can you, for instance, love that person – and you know who they are – who just seems to go out of their way to be a thorn in your side?  Can you love that person who’s been very unkind; who’s been out there talking and telling lies about you behind your back? Can you love the one who’s hurt you, whose actions have made your life difficult?  Can you love the one with whom you disagree… vehemently?  Can you love them even when they haven’t loved you; can you love those who need that love the most?  Can you work “for the good of all?”

To quote Sarah Henrich once again, “Such a life needs graciousness, perseverance, a constant cheerful sowing, and a refusal to judge who is worthy of help and who not.”  And we should know that it’s most decidedly not easy. But if we hear what Paul is saying here (so emphatically, in fact, that Paul makes a point of writing it in large letters by his own hand!); if we know the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ, then we also know that this is the life that’s expected of us as his disciples, and we must “not grow weary in doing what is right.”

It’s why we’re here.

Sometimes you and I succumb to the temptation of believing that we can somehow compartmentalize our faith into a specific time and place; to keep it contained right here within these walls to be used only for a couple hours on a Sunday morning.  But that’s not the ministry to which we’re called by Christ; and it’s not where the Spirit leads us, which is out these doors and into our homes, our community and our world, proclaiming good news and working in every opportunity we have for the good of all.  We have this ministry in Christ’s name; and even now it’s unfolding in the times, the places and the people of our lives.

And who knows what may happen in our ministry, beloved?  Frederick Beuchner puts it this way:  “Who knows,” he wrote, “how the awareness of God’s love first hits people… some moment happens in your life that you say Yes to right up to the roots of your hair, that makes it worth having been born just to have happen… how about the person you know who as far as you can possibly tell has never had such a moment… the soreheads and slobs of the world, the ones the world has hopelessly crippled… maybe for that person the moment that has to happen is you.”

Beloved, let us never grow weary in doing what is right, for “at the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit.”  It’s why we’re here, and it’s the vocation, the ministry we share as believers and as the church of Jesus Christ.

May we be blessed in that ministry, and ever and always, may our thanks be to God.

AMEN and AMEN.

© 2019  Rev. Michael W. Lowry

 

Tags:

God of the Crushed Silence

(a sermon for June 23, 2019, the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, based on 1 Kings 19:1-15)

The time had finally come for us to go home.

We knew that; we’d actually been preparing ourselves for that inevitability for quite some time.  But given the stress of those last few weeks – trying to pack up everything we own so that most of it could go into storage, dealing with countless last minute details and a few tearful goodbyes, to say nothing of seeking to bring some semblance of faith-centered closure to a five year ministry that had been… difficult – we were not only physically exhausted but also emotionally and spiritually drained.  And if that weren’t enough, quite literally as we were packing the last of what was going with us into the cars, our cats – four of them, mind you (!) – choose that moment to decide to make a break for it and scatter throughout the neighborhood!  It took several hours of Sarah and her best friend Breana coaxing the cats back with an opened can of tuna fish (!) and a night spent at a local hotel, but it did happen: early the next morning we did leave Ohio and were finally on our way back to Maine.

And… all these years later I still remember what a terrible, horrible, awful trip it was.

To begin with, as fate would have it, this was the weekend just prior to the 4th of July, which meant that there was nary a decent hotel room to be found anywhere from the Berkshires east; at least not one that didn’t cost an8 arm and a leg, or more importantly, one that was “pet friendly.” (And which – I guess after all this time I can confess this – eventually led us to literally “smuggle” those four cats into a Motel 6 somewhere in Chicopee, MA!) Moreover, it was inordinately hot and muggy that weekend, the traffic was bumper to bumper and interminably slow all the way to Maine, and the whole trip – hour after hour, mile after mile – was accompanied, by the noise of roaring engines, blaring horns, wailing sirens and hip-hop music being played at excessive volume and bass!

I have to tell you, however, that the worst part of it all was that there was way too much time for thinking… thinking about what had brought our family to this moment; thinking about what went wrong and what I could have done differently; thinking about disappointment, and failure, and – if I’m being honest – about the fear and, yes, the anger I was feeling at that moment about a hard present and an uncertain future.  Now, could this have been, at least in part, the inevitable result of all the stress my family and I’d been experiencing, of too little sleep and too much caffeine, to say nothing of having had all this cacophonous road noise filling my ears and brain for two days straight?  Maybe… but let me tell you what I remember the most about that trip: we finally got to northern Maine and to camp about dusk, and we were so tired we didn’t even unpack; we just made up the beds, crawled under the covers and collapsed.  And I remember lying there in the darkness – too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, but so keyed up from all the driving to close my eyes – and in that moment the only thing I could hear was… the quiet.  “A sound of sheer silence,” as scripture so eloquently puts it; a lack of sound so profound and so all-enveloping as to be overwhelming; almost crushing.

And I’d never before heard – or not heard – anything like it.

What’s interesting about our text for this morning, the story of the prophet Elijah’s encounter with God at the cave on Mount Horeb, is that it really should have been should have been the moment of Elijah’s greatest triumph!  After all, he had just come from Mount Carmel, where he’d challenged – and completely routed – some 450 prophets of the pagan god Baal; God’s singular power and presence had been displayed for all to see, and if that weren’t enough, a long-standing drought had come to an end, just as God had promised and as Elijah himself had proclaimed!  By all reasoning, this prophet of God should have been in high spirits, confident for the future and ready for his victory lap!

And yet, as we pick up the story today, Elijah is far from feeling the thrill of victory.  He’s tired, scared and – thanks to a death threat from a vengeful, Baal-worshiping Queen Jezebel and her power yet spineless husband King Ahab – he’s on the run for his very life; first escaping to the city of Beersheeba and now hiding out in the wilderness.  Needless to say this was not how things were supposed to work out; and Elijah – who by now is lamenting his circumstances and feeling pretty desperate – is also filled up with self-pity.  Never mind that an angel is waiting on him with food and drink for the journey; never mind that the Lord himself comes to ask after him: all the while Elijah is ranting about how much had gone so wrong, and fairly well begging God just “to take him now,” since as a prophet he was such an utter failure; “no better than [his] ancestors,” he says.  And he’s thinking, this whole thing’s so unfair: he’d done what the Lord had asked him to do; he’d stood firm in his commitment to God, against all odds and at great personal risk: that ought to count for something, right?  But no… as far as Elijah is concerned this business of being God’s prophet, it’s all for naught… it’s a losing game.

Not exactly the stuff of heroism, is it; nor of the kind o leadership that’s truly of “biblical proportions.”  But we do understand, don’t we?  We get it… because most of us at one time or another have been there.

It’s been said, you know, that this story from 1 Kings is one of relatively few occasions in scripture where we get insight into the inner thoughts and emotions of the characters in the biblical story; mostly we have to rely on things like translation, history, tradition and the overarching message of holy scripture so we can “read between the lines.”  But not this time; we really do know what’s happening with Elijah, because you and I understand all too well what things like crisis and fear and discouragement and utter despair can do to someone; we get how life will at times become so exhausting, so disheartening, so incredibly soul-searing that you end up feeling like you’ve been trampled upon and are too weak to stand. You and I look at Elijah, and we know that there just seems to come a point when, having been beaten down, burnt out and abandoned in the midst of life’s hardships and injustices, we wonder if it’s all worth it.  It’s what led the Psalmist to cry out in despair, “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?” (Psalm 42:5)

It’s truly, in the words of the poet, “the dark night of the soul.” But it’s also the place where God comes with power and with love.

And so it is for Elijah; and it’s important to note here that when God comes to Elijah it’s not out of anger nor is it to chastise him for a lack of faith; rather it’s for what might be referred to as “unexpected encouragement” that defies our expectations.  As it turns out, God does not come in the power of a wind so destructive it was “splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces;” nor was the Lord to be found of an earthquake after that; and no, God’s voice isn’t one of fiery judgment and divine retribution.

When God speaks, it’s with silence.

In fact, in one of the richest images that’s found in the Old Testament, we’re told that the voice of the Lord comes in “a sound of sheer silence,” as it’s often translated, “a still, small voice;”  I’ve even seen it referred to as “a whistling of gentle air.” Actually, I’ll give you still another translation, from the original Hebrew, which directly translates in English to a “crushing silence;” that is, a quiet so all-encompassing that it envelops and overwhelms everything else around it.  Or to put it another way, it’s God’s voice speaking at the exclusion of all others; and this was a voice of mercy, compassion and love, a voice that spoke directly to Elijah’s heart, leaving him so exposed and so vulnerable that, we’re told, he immediately wrapped his face in his robe because it was all too overwhelming for him to face.  I mean, can you imagine it?  Can you even envision how it would be for you and me to stand there with all the noise suddenly silenced and every one of our fears and doubts on full display to God in all his glory?  But it’s precisely in hearing the voice of God in that crushed silence that Elijah could begin to find his healing and hope.

And so it is for you and for me; indeed, so often what it takes is get past the cacophonous noise of our lives – that unending barrage of sound that comes both from outside and within –  so that we might start to hear the voice of the Almighty speaking directly to us in the midst of the quiet.  And while when we finally do hear it the effect might be jarring – even crushing, if you will – when we stop to hear God’s voice, to listen and yes, to actually, pay attention to what’s being said, it’s there we find the peace we’re looking for and we’ve so needed, and might I add, renewal for the way ahead; because it’s also worth noting in this story that when Elijah finally comes out of the cave to, this time, really listen to God, what does God do?  God sends him to Damascus on another assignment!  As Richard Nelson has written, “God’s therapy for prophetic burnout [usually] includes both the assignment of new tasks and the certain promise of a [new] future that transcends the prophet’s own success or lack of it.”  In other words, friends, in the silence God helps us to move forward in faith, in service and in love.

Now, I would like to tell you that on that dark night of my own soul so many years ago that having experienced a truly “crushing silence” that I was suddenly aware of the voice of God speaking to me, and that immediately everything was okay and life went on much better than before; that certainly would have been a better ending to my story today, but the truth is that I still had a rather long and occasionally arduous journey ahead of me.  But I will tell you this much:  that night I slept better than I had in weeks; months, even.  And the next night, once again retiring to the evening quiet of our “pond,” it was the same thing all over again.  In fact, all through that summer, I came to look forward to those times of dwelling in the “crushed silence,” because it was there, away and apart from all the noise, I could let go of anguish and the fear and the despair; it was there where I could weep; it was there I could pray… and there where I could listen.  And I didn’t know it at the time, but it was there where I was being encouraged to move forward and to be led along the very first steps of a journey that, while still involving a few twists and turns, would by God’s grace and mercy eventually lead me… here.

It is a noisy world out there, beloved, and sometimes it’s just more than we can take!  My hope and prayer for each one of us today is that we would seek to come away and apart from the cacophony so that we might truly hear and listen to our God of the crushed silence, who even now is calling our name and offering up peace, comfort… and life for today, tomorrow and always.

In praise of the one who speaks in that still, small voice, may our thanks be to God.

Amen and AMEN.

© 2019  Rev. Michael W. Lowry

 

Tags: , ,

 
%d bloggers like this: