quiet

On the Road & Searching for God

1 Kings 19:1-3, 9-18

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, ‘So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.’ Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there.

At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”

Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place. Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill. Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”


First of all, I have to confess, in case any of you were expecting me to stick to the script for this sermon series that I laid out in the newsletter a week or so ago … I changed my mind this week. I was originally going to preach about the story of Philip baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch “on the road” from the book of Acts. But then I realized that this story about Elijah was actually the one assigned for today, according to the lectionary. And I realized I was feeling a little more like Elijah these days, than like Philip (or the Ethiopian eunuch, thanks be to Jesus!), so I wanted to wonder some more about the prophet, Elijah, instead.

And while this story about the prophet, on the run and on the road and searching for God – in the wind and in the earthquake and in the fire, before finding God, finally, in the sound of sheer silence – is pretty well known, it’s important to know what led up to Elijah’s harrowing, holy experience up on Mr. Horeb.

The short version of the story is that the prophet Elijah – with the help of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – put to shame a handful of the prophets of Baal by proving their god was a false, failure of a god. And then Elijah had those false prophets put to death.

According to the story, which plays out like some sort of divine, pre-historic game show – “Top Prophet,” you might have called it, or “Yahweh or The Highway,” perhaps – Elijah challenges the prophets of Baal to call upon their god to rain fire from the heavens in order to sacrifice a young bull, and prove his power and prowess as “God.”

When the prophets of Baal – and Baal, himself, actually – fail to deliver the fire they desire, Elijah humiliates them in front of all the people. Elijah sets up an altar, digs a trench around it, soaks it – not once, not twice, but three times – with enough water to fill a hot tub and then asks the God – our God – to bring the fire. And the one, true God – the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – delivers enough fire to consume the altar, the stones, the dust, and all the water that filled the trench around it all, too. And then, rather than just let them leave with their humiliated tails between their proverbial legs, Elijah has all those prophets killed…

…which explains why Elijah is “on the road, again” this morning and on the run from Queen Jezebel – a worshiper of the false, failed god of Baal – who wants to avenge her god by putting Elijah to death for his little stunt with those prophets.

So, on the road and on the run for his life, Elijah finds himself alone and desperate and afraid, in the wilderness, asking for God – the same God who had saved him before, the same God who had established him as a prophet of the One True God, the same God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – Elijah asks that he might just die. But after a dream and some conversation with some angels, some solid meals, and 40 days and 40 nights of wilderness wandering “on the road again,” Elijah ends up at Mount Horeb, wondering what in the world is next for him after all he’d done, all he’d run from, and all he had escaped in those days.

Elijah – faithful prophet that he was – is aching for, longing for, desperate and dying for God’s voice, God’s guidance, God’s presence to teach him or lead him or comfort him or show him something, anything about what could or should or would be next for him.

And haven’t we all felt something like Elijah at one time or another – in a wilderness of some kind; aching, longing, hungry; dying for guidance, for answers, for comfort, for direction? And haven’t we looked in all kinds of places for those answers, for that comfort, for some direction, for some measure of hope in the face of our frustrations and our fears? (Those of you who know about my wife, Christa’s, recent cancer diagnosis, will understand why Elijah’s story hit a little closer to home than that story about Philip and the eunuch.)

Well, God promises Elijah – on the road and up on that mountain – that he’s about to get what he longed for. Maybe Elijah thought some stone tablets might appear, with very clear instructions, as had happened for Moses, way back when. Maybe he was expecting a conversation or another meal or another angel, like before, who knows? None of that happened. But there was a great wind, strong enough to split mountains and break rocks, but the answer wasn’t in the wind. The wind was followed by an earthquake, but God wasn’t in the earthquake. And then there was a fire, (remember how much Elijah could do with some fire), but God wasn’t in the fire this time, either.

And after all of that, there is the sound of sheer silence. Utter noiselessness. Absolute stillness. Pure calm. Total tranquility. Complete quiet. The kind of nothing and silence you could touch… and feel… silence you could hear, even, as bizarre as that seems. And when Elijah hears that sheer silence he finally finds what he was looking for all along: direction… guidance… answers… hope… and the sure and certain power and presence of God.

And I don’t have any “aha moments” about what we’re currently dealing with at the Havel household – or about what’s in store for Christa in the months ahead – but I do know how easy it is to keep moving and to stay busy and to keep distracted so that the silence can’t get in. (The only way I can sleep sometimes, these days, is in the other room, with the news on, to keep my mind distracted by anything and everything besides what scares me the most, right now.)

So Elijah’s story is an example and inspiration for me – and I hope it will be for you, too – to not be scared of – to remember our need, really – for solitude; for prayer; for reflection; for stillness in the presence of God; for time away from the distractions of life, so that we can center ourselves faithfully on what God is calling us toward, as we make our way in the world. We are called to do more listening than talking on occasion; to be patient more and to push less. (Christa and I have realized that the last two weeks have gone by so quickly, with so many tests and scans and results and plans, we’re quite aware that that’s what has made this bearable in some ways.)

But I’m certain that’s not what God would have for any of us – all of the time.

We need more time for silence and stillness because, I think, that’s where God meets up with our greatest fears. See, there are earthquakes and fires and a whole lot of craziness swirling around us all of the time. There are threats of war and rumors of war. There are pandemics and politics and global warming and cancer and the beginning of another school year in the midst of it all.

And we are consumed and distracted by so many ideas and opinions about all of it; so much heartache and heaviness; so many lies and so much division we need to separate ourselves – for enough time to be reminded that God is in the midst of it, too; always for our sake and always for the sake of the world.

And this kind of silence and stillness, Elijah found; the kind of listening to and leaning on the God who is more powerful than any of it, can save our sanity and our lives and our souls on this side of heaven. And I haven’t been so great at it lately, as I’ve said. But this week, Elijah has reminded me that we’re really playing with fire when we refuse to get still, when we neglect to be quiet, and when we choose to be distracted, rather than allow ourselves to be found by the steady, patient, hopeful silence of God’s amazing grace.

Amen

Seeking the Sacred - Silence & Solitude

1 Kings 19:11-15a

[The voice of the Lord] said [to Elijah] “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”

Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 

When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”  

He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus…”


There is an obvious irony involved in preaching about silence. It would be counter-productive to spend a lot of time talking about the importance of being quiet. So I’ll be succinct with a couple points and then I’d like to talk briefly about my experience with silence a couple weeks ago.

Most cultures, be they ancient or modern, tend to deemphasize the importance of silence. Esteem and power is most often claimed by the most vociferous of the population. The loud ones get attention paid to them. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, as the saying goes. 

Quiet people, on the other hand, are often viewed as subservient, timid, disengaged, and weak. The adjective most closely associated with silence is “awkward” – as in, awkward silence.

As a word of encouragement for all the quiet people out there, take heart in this helpful reminder from Susan Cain’s incredible book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. She writes, “There's zero correlation between being the best talker and having the best ideas.” 

Again, the concept of equating loudness with power spans history. Privileging loudness is evident in scripture also. After all, it is a loud noise that begins creation as we know it. Whether you understand it the “Big Bang” or the voice of God speaking creation into being, a loud noise is involved. When God speaks in scripture it is often with gusto, be it a burning bush, thunder, or a talking donkey. 

One of the beautiful ideas presented in this story from 1 Kings, however, is the idea that God is present in sheer silence. You might be familiar with the translation from this story as “a still small voice”; however, it is more accurate to translate it as “sheer silence.”

God is able to do anything, but I imagine one of the hardest things for God to do is to speak in silence to people who prize loudness. People who lack awareness of God’s nature need flashing signs and loud trumpets to accompany God’s word or else they would miss it. A more spiritually mature person is already attuned to God’s nature, which means God doesn’t have to try as hard to communicate with that person; it simply becomes second nature. Spiritual maturity requires a spirit of discernment. And it’s very hard to spend time discerning God’s will when you’re being bombarded with noise or being loud yourself.

If you are curious and would like to know more check out the book I mentioned earlier, called Quiet, and also visit the chapter about silence in The Soul’s Slow Ripening. Now, however, I want to share my recent experience with silence. 

I am participating in a 2-year certificate program in Christian spiritual formation. A couple weeks ago I was in Mundelein, Illinois for a week-long residency with each day packed with lectures, worship, and rich conversation. Each residency concludes with a 24-hr silent retreat. We surrender our cell phones and are left to our own devices as to how we spend our time, so long as it is in silence. 

This was my second 24-hour silent retreat and I approached it with no anxiety nor any plans. A few hours in I decided to take a leisurely 2.5 mile walk around the lake on campus of the seminary. 

Not long into my walk I passed by another retreat participant. I decided at that point that I would spend my silent walk praying for each person whom I passed on the trail. I made a sign of prayer to her to indicate I saw her and was including her in my prayers. 

With her in mind, my attention turned to dead logs scattered throughout the woods and I recalled how she had shared her despair at the recent loss of a dear friend. I prayed that she would be reminded that God is the Lord of Resurrection and that God refuses to let death have the last word. I prayed for the new life that was at work in that decaying log.

I walked by another colleague and was struck by her smiling response. I prayed for her and her work as a spiritual director. I gave thanks to God that she is so aware of and infused with the goodness of God that she is able to share it with people looking for spiritual companionship, comfort, and hope.

I passed by another colleague and was led to pray about a somewhat difficult conversation we had earlier about homosexuality. We were coming from different perspectives and of course had not changed one another's minds. Something she said had crept under my skin and kept irritating me. I prayed for grace in difficult conversations, not just with her but others as well. I should add that our first night as a group we were asked to lay an object on the altar that symbolized our current relationship with God. This person brought in a piece of lichen (the algae/fungi symbiotic organism) to symbolize how she felt God was working in her to create a new thing. At some point during the walk I realized that I had stopped praying for her and was back to letting my monkey mind take me from random topic to random topic. Then I spotted a piece of lichen right in the middle of my path. It immediately brought her back to my mind and I returned to pray for her. This happened twice more along the walk.

I then walked by another participant and was reminded of his incredible gesture of hospitality when he learned that I would be traveling by his home in England this summer. Despite being practically a complete stranger, he immediately told me how we must come to his house and eat together and have our kids play together and get the inside experience of his hometown.

As I walked I decided to pay attention to all my senses, not just the physical sensation of being very cold, which my fingers and ears were screaming at me. I wondered if there was anything to smell so I took a deep inhale through the nose and was immediately met with the burning sensation of cold air as it enters the lungs. I was reminded of the Holy Spirit, so often portrayed as a rushing wind; so often portrayed as a burning fire. I had not previously noticed how intertwined the two seeming-opposite dynamics of wind and fire are. I prayed that the Holy Spirit would continue to fill me with grace, faith, life and love...even when the initial experience seems painful. 

Walking further I noticed that I was alone. I hadn't seen anyone in a while. I started to pray for myself, letting God's spirit shine like light from a candle on the parts of my soul that I would prefer to stay hidden.

As I neared the last bend in the road and the residence hall came into view I thought about how my time at the residency was coming to an end and that I would soon return to my family, friends, and family of faith at Cross of Grace. I shifted my prayer to the ministry that God is doing here among us. 

While I haven’t had a 24-hour silent retreat since returning, I do sense that the prayerful attentiveness to life and my fellow human beings that characterized that walk has stayed with me. That walk was a time of profound relationship intimacy with God that I will cherish and that will inform my regular spiritual practices. It was a reminder that God is available to me at any moment, especially when I eliminate the noisy distractions in our lives. 

Amen.