PROPERS: PROPER 7, YEAR C
TEXT: 1 KINGS 19:1-4 (5-7) 8-15a
PREACHED AT HOLY TRINITY, PENSACOLA, ON SUNDAY, JUNE 23, 2019.
ONE SENTENCE: It is through the silences and the trials that God can move most profoundly.
There are a couple of axioms about the task of preaching which a good preacher should keep in mind.
The first is this: Have a good beginning and a good ending… and keep them as close as possible. Reasonable enough.
The second axiom is this: Tell the people what you are going to say; Say it; then tell them what you have said. That pretty-much sums it up.
I don’t know that I will live-up to either of those axioms today, but I hope the key points come across. They are these: God speaks to us through the silences, AND, God transforms our lives through the storms.
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Twenty-six years ago I was a young priest on the staff of a very large church in a Southern city. I had been called to be an assistant there by another slightly-older priest whose gifts I recognized and from whom I thought I could learn much.
The problem was this: After I accepted the call to go to that larger church and before I arrived, the gifted priest, with whom I wanted to work, became disabled by a chronic and life-sapping disease.
I had been thrown in the deep end of the pool, and I was struggling to tread water.
My spiritual journey at that point was, as is said, a mile wide and an inch deep. In other words, my spirituality was all on the surface. I was floundering.
So, in desperation, I turned to another priest at a nearby church. He and I had grown up in the same hometown, though he was six years older than me. He was a towering figure – six foot six. When he was a senior in high school, he was the first person I had ever seen dunk a basketball.
He was brilliant. He had been a Rhodes Scholar with Bill Clinton. And he had a deep spiritual journey.
So, I started visiting with him, once each week. He told me of his own spiritual practice – of rising each morning and spending an hour in silent, centering prayer. He urged me to get away from the franticness of life and turn toward silence. God will speak to you through the silence, he said.
Sadly, I was too anxious to take his advice. But years later, our pathways crossed once again, and this time his counsel took root. I turned toward the silence. In that silence I found God.
I have learned that it is necessary to have a well-defined spiritual discipline in this vocation. People who say they pray while they mow the lawn do not know the value of a real discipline. It is important to turn inside.
That is one of the truths in the first lesson. Elijah was fleeing the wrath of Ahab. He had traveled hundreds of miles south in the Holy Land to take refuge in a cave on the Holy Mountain of Mt. Horeb. There he hid.
While Elijah cowered in the cave, the voice of God said to him: Go and stand outside for I am about to pass by.
So, Elijah did as he was told. There came a massive storm – but God was not in the storm. There came an earthquake – but God was not in the earthquake. There came a blazing fire – but God was not in the fire.
Finally, there came a sheer silence – deep and profound. God spoke to Elijah out of the silence.
There is a lesson in that story. We have difficulty in hearing God in the frantic pace of life. The first lesson is an invitation into a deeper awareness of God’s presence in silence.
That was a lesson that was important for me to learn.
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My second point is this: God transforms us through the storms of life.
Elijah is an excellent example. He had faced-down the prophets of Ba’al on a mountain in Samaria… and in that process he had earned the undying enmity of Ahab. Keep in mind that Ahab was married to Jezebel – they were both despicable and had led people astray.
Elijah was a wanted man. His life was anything but simple and placid. He fled south – farsouth. He was afraid for his life. He felt lost and utterly alone.
Perhaps you have known similar low points in your life. I know I have. Sometimes we find ourselves at such low points we are unable to even see the light of day. I have experienced that on several occasions.
Perhaps your experience is like mine. It is only in retrospect – in looking back – that you are able to see the redemption, the new life, the hope which can come from such moments. I know I can.
In the moment, when life is so bleak, you may feel overwhelmed. You feel the breakers – the riptide of life – carrying you out to sea, to the deeper waters of despair. In such moments, you can become hopeless and cynical – doubting the purpose and meaning of life.
In such moments – the riptides of life – the only saving course is to release, and stop fighting the current. Know that you are beloved, and that no matter the circumstances, you are not alone.
Or, you may experience the words of Hymn 637:
“When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe will not thee overflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.”
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