Stormy Seas

Mark's telling of Jesus' quieting the storm is a story that touches all of us. It is a metaphor for some of the more difficult things we encounter in life. They tend to pop up like unexpected storms and then we try to hang on until it subsides.

I’d like to tell you right now that every time the sea buffets us, Jesus steps forward and quiets the chaos of life. But in the human condition sometimes the sea tossed journeys don’t end as happily or safely as the one Mark describes. Sometimes, the waves just keep coming and driving you into the sand and disorienting you. At such moments, one does well just to hang on. One may even ask, like the disciples, “Lord, don’t you care?” Or, “God, what are you up to here?”

When such waves threaten to swamp us, there will be questions. “Lord, don’t you care that we are perishing?” “What will tomorrow bring?” “Is there any comfort?” “Is there any hope, any way to go on?” These are questions that some will ask freely while others will hesitate unsure whether or not they are supposed to or even allowed to ask them. To put it another way, these are moments when we stare into the abyss. Staring into such places can be paralyzing.

At such moments, we as the church have the opportunity for a powerful witness. It is not a witness that denies the questions or even discourages the asking of them. Instead, it is the witness of abiding with those staring into the abyss – being a non-anxious presence in moments of great anxiety, exhibiting supreme trust in God just as Jesus does in the storm tossed boat. In such moments, we carry the faith of those in distress and even have faith for them when they cannot.

Mark’s story of a sea crossing isn’t so much about coping with the trials and tribulations of stormy seas as it is about salvation. The church as the body of Christ can be a non-anxious hopeful presence because we know that even if the boat is lost, God is not done. Not even the sealed tomb can prevent God from bringing life out of death. We have hope not because somehow God is absolutely in control of absolutely everything, micromanaging history, but because God is with us even when the chaos of life threatens and does swamp us. Even in the face of chaos, we can sleep, not because the danger isn’t real, but because ultimately death is conquered.

Hot Coals & A Hot Summer Mission Trip

The lectionary for this week offers the dramatic account of the prophet Isaiah's re-commissioning. Up to this point in his prophetic ministry, or rather I should say, according to the order of his oracles in the canonized version (chapters 1-5), Isaiah's preaching addresses social issues but after this re-commissioning his preaching addresses political issues - the ongoing relationship between Israel and Assyria and the prospects of war. I don't particularly like dividing the description of his preaching, before and after chapter 6, in this manner but there does seem to be a clear change of direction in the prophet's focus. For the sake of this forum, I'm leaving alone the questions of 1st Isaiah, 2nd Isaiah, and the possibility of 3rd Isaiah.

As the prophet worships in the temple, he has a vision of the heavenly court and overhears the singing of the seraphs and feels the world beginning to shake. "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips..." (6:5). Isaiah is silenced or paralyzed by the whole experience. But then one of the seraphs flies to him and touches his mouth with a live, hot coal. It is a cleansing experience for the prophet - one that is life-changing for him. It is as if the touch of the live coal gives him a new mouth, a new tongue, new lips, and a new message to proclaim. This experience gives him the ability to respond to God's call, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" (6:8). When God's call comes, it can be a daunting thing to hear and even harder to respond to it. This encounter prepares the prophet to hear the message and respond to the call.

This next Sunday, our congregation will be sending out the first of three mission teams. They are going to UrbanSpirit in Louisville, Kentucky, for a poverty immersion experience. The group is a mix of adults and youth. The kids on the trip range from middle school to early high school age. The folks at UrbanSpirit describe on their web page the experience this way, "We will engage your group by leading you through an experience of living poverty. From the moment you arrive, you step into the world of the working poor -- those tens of millions of Americans who work hard and never really get anywhere. Poverty isn't just about money; it is about what you eat, where you stay, how you work, how much or little control you have over your circumstances, what surprises and anxieties you encounter day-to-day, and how it never ever ends...In addition to experiences, activities, studies, and games we've developed, you'll also work with our partner agencies, to shape your simulation experience with a real payday and real-life stories from the neighborhood."

I suspect that those going on this mission trip may utter the same words as the prophet, "Woe is me! I am lost..." They may wonder what they've gotten themselves into as a part of this trip. My guess is though that like the prophet's encounter with the seraph this experience will be life changing. It will be life changing because it will challenge fundamental beliefs and ideas about poverty, the church, neighbor, and the purpose of life. The changes maybe imperceptible at first but they will continue to percolate within each participant. Over time and with continued emphasis in such areas, we will see and benefit from these changes that will impact the participants and eventually all of us as we interact with these we have sent out for us.

I'm envious of them and wish that I could go along. But I'm able to do that this year. So it leads me to think about the experiences that I've had that have changed my life. It leads me also to wonder about the experiences you have had that have changed your life. Would you share those with others who read and participate here?

I invite you to post those experiences as a comment, anonymously or otherwise.

"Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones..."

I know Sunday is Pentecost and that the lectionary has Ezekiel as only an alternative reading for the day but I find it particularly appropriate. Maybe because I'm feeling a little bit dry right now or maybe because I just love this passage - Ezekiel 37:1-14. The title of this post might more appropriately be "The Desert Places of Our Lives.”

There are times in our lives when we feel drained, empty, and uninspired; just down right dry - no energy, no creativity. When these times come to us, they touch every part of our lives – work, the relationship with our spouse or significant other, the relationships with our children, and even with our friends. It is as if we are in a desert searching for water to quench our thirst yet there is none to be found. Unfortunately, it seems that the more earnestly we search the drier we become. Or, we think we have finally found water to renew us only to discover that it was a mirage and the sand that we have imagined to be water only dries us more.

How do these times occur? Why do they come? Perhaps because we overextend ourselves; get our priorities out of order; remain absent from the presence of God for too long. There's more that we could say to answer those questions. From my own experiences, and I suspect you could do the same, I can more easily describe what those moments are like than tell you precisely why or how they arrived. In these moments, I can set the pen to paper yet no words will flow onto the paper. Or, I can sit with someone who is hurting, yet not know what to say or do even if saying or doing nothing is the appropriate response. Or, I can be present with a group, all the while feeling out of the group and unable to participate. In these moments, it is as if I am a collection of dry bones lying upon the ground.

Ezekiel knows of this feeling. He sees it among his brothers and sisters in exile. They feel emptied out, drained of hope by the situation. Their land had been taken, their temple destroyed, and now they reside in a land far from home. They lack any hope of restoration to the land God had promised their ancestors. As each day passed and they left their new homes to go and work for the Babylonians and then the Persians, they must have felt as if they were trapped in a desert without water. They were a collection of dry bones lying lifelessly upon the ground.

But in the midst of this desert, God speaks a word of hope through the prophet Ezekiel. In a vision, God comes to this prophet and shows him a valley full of dry bones. It sounds like scene of battlefield slaughter to me - maybe it is like the Brady photographs of civil war battlefields. In the midst of this carnage and absence of life, God gives to Ezekiel a command. The prophet is to call, through the gift of God’s spirit, the bones back to life. God says to the prophet that bone will come together with bone, sinews will cover the bones, the skin will again cover both, and the breath of life will again fill the lungs of these dry bones brought to life. Ezekiel does so and it comes to pass before his eyes. He calls the Spirit of God to come from the four winds to bring life back to the dry bones.

If you were to hear this story read in Hebrew, you would hear a word repeated 10 times throughout the story. The word is ruah and it can be translated spirit, breath, and wind. It is the spirit that carries Ezekiel into the valley and sets him down there. It is the breath that God breathes into the dry bones. It is the four winds that Ezekiel summons to bring the life-giving breath. With one word, the poet ties the story together.

Now, you might say, “I can see how it ties the story together. But what does it matter?” I call your attention to this repetitive use of ruah because this story from Ezekiel is a reenactment of creation. It is God’s ruah that passes over the waters and it is God’s ruah that breathes life into the creatures formed from the earth. And, it is God’s ruah that brings life out of death.

In our lives when we are in the midst of the desert feeling as if we are nothing but a collection of dry bones, it is God’s ruah that fills us with life. The more that we search for water to quench the dryness of our thirst, the drier we become. But when God’s ruah breathes into us, life returns.

What are the desert places of your life? Where does God's ruah need to blow through your life?