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.”

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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

On the Road & Wrestling with Angels

Genesis 32:22-31

The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, "Let me go, for the day is breaking." But Jacob said, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." So he said to him, "What is your name?" And he said, "Jacob." Then the man said, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." Then Jacob asked him, "Please tell me your name." But he said, "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

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Today we are beginning a sermon series about Biblical road trips. It’s a clever idea from Pastor Mark, who realized that the themes of journey, exile, and movement resonate with how many of us have experienced these past several months. We, like Jesus, have left the building. In the coming weeks we will explore some stories in scripture about what can happen when we hit the road. Trust me when I say, it’s good news. 

I have watched my fair share of movies whose plots are built around the road trip motif. The road trip genre--a uniquely American contribution to cinema--is one of my favorite genres. You can probably think of several examples on your own, but here are a few movie title just to help you understand what we’re talking about: Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Thelma and Louise, Easy Rider, Little Miss Sunshine, The Road to Perdition, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Green Book, RV, Are We There Yet?, just to name a few. Most road trip movies follow the same plot structure. The story begins with an individual or collection of people who are clearly lacking something, most often a healthy emotional connection to someone else. This person or groups sets off on a presumably straightforward journey. Something unexpected happens which prompts a series of shenanigans and encounters with people that challenge them. They are forced to reckon with parts of themselves they prefer to keep hidden, resulting in a process of personal growth that is painful but often hilarious and heartwarming. They arrive at the destination, or return home, having uncovered a deeper purpose to the trip than they originally anticipated. The end. 

If you haven’t recently seen a movie from the great American road trip genre, I encourage you to check one out before we get too deep into this sermon series. You will likely see some important parallels and it will help make sense both of what we’re doing here as well as what you’re experiencing as this pandemic and quarantine existence continues.

I’m no stranger to the great American road trip experience myself, having lived in so many different states over the past two decades. I have a couple favorite road trip stories that I will space out over the course of this sermon series. Here’s my first:

In the mid-2000’s my wife and I lived in Southern California. It was there where we made our first big purchase as a married couple: a used 2-person ocean kayak. It was 12’ and 60 lbs of open-topped molded royal blue plastic. It was fantastic. We found the only free beach parking in all of So Cal and would coast along the top of the Pacific alongside dolphins, seals, and even once a whale that came close enough to our kayak to slightly unnerve us both. 

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My ocean kayak circa 2007.

When it came time to move from California to Minnesota we plotted out a course that would allow us to stop at a different body of water each day and use the kayak. As the movers started to shut the door to the van packed with our stuff they reminded us there was still room to put the kayak in the van. That was not part of the plan, so we politely declined and instead strapped it on the roof of our Nissan Sentra and embarked on a 2,250-mile journey to our new home. Our first stop was to be the San Francisco Bay.

Several hours later, as we were driving north on I-5 through the agricultural heart of California we were met with incredible gusts of wind that were pummeling the driver’s side of the car. We stopped at a rest area and double-checked the knots and straps that were holding the kayak to the roof rack and the roof rack to the car. All secure. 

Not ten minutes after continuing our windblown journey north on the interstate, we felt the car shift, heard a horrific metallic scratching noise, and caught a glimpse of a flash of blue out the passenger side windows. Though I had witnessed the whole event, I could hardly believe my wife when she told me the kayak had blown off our car. I immediately pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate, waited for a break in the traffic, and got out to inspect the damage. The only thing left on top of the car was one roof rack bar and two huge indents where the other bar had once been adhered. Down the 30’ slope down to the ditch, and about 50 yards behind, I saw the overturned kayak. In no time at all a CHiPs officer pulled up behind our car and he was completely uninterested in our story or in trying to help us. He demanded we get off the shoulder immediately. There was no way to put the kayak back on the car so we got back in the car and drove away in shock and disbelief. That was the last we ever saw that kayak, though I imagine that CHiPs officer came back for it and still enjoys using it today. 

Here’s why I tell that story alongside today’s story of Jacob’s roadside wrestling match with an angel: the stories illustrate the difference in personal agency in demanding to receive God’s promise of good gifts in the midst of difficult situations. 

In the biblical story, Jacob demanded something good to come out of his tribulations. He did not have a single moral or ethical leg to stand on, yet he demanded a divine blessing from the God whom he knew freely gave out blessings, and would not let go of the angel until he received it. That takes some chutzpah. The man known as “the deceiver” felt he was as entitled to the blessings of God as anyone else. And he was absolutely correct.

In my story, we did not demand anything from the situation. We didn’t demand the officer help us. We didn’t demand the roof rack company admit their product was faulty. We didn’t demand anything from anyone that would have helped us get that kayak out of the ditch and back into our possession. We walked away, feeling only shock and disappointment. I remember thinking “We’re good people, why did this happen to us?” Of course, I immediately felt ashamed for thinking like that, given how it was such a minor inconvenience and there were obviously other people who had more to complain about than we did. There are very few biblical examples of people being filled with shame and still receiving blessings from God. 

We gave away our agency and floated along the current of life (which would have been fun to do on a kayak). In our disappointment we felt and acted powerless. But not Jacob. That dude demanded a blessing despite not having any right to it. The whole reason Jacob was on his road trip was because he knew his brother would kill him for his earlier betrayal of him. If a guy like that could demand and receive a blessing from God, why couldn't we?

I tell you this story because I want you to demand blessings from God. You have every right to demand blessings from God for yourself and for others. It is very clear from scripture and tradition that God enjoys giving blessings to those who ask. It seems that God simply likes to be asked. Failing to demand blessings from God is not an exercise in humility; rather, failing to demand blessings from God is a sign that you’re hedging your bets because deep down you don’t trust God. I never once prayed that God would help me with the kayak situation. The reason is because I didn’t think God would help in that situation. I never asked and I never received. Imagine how much better that story would be if I had pulled off on the shoulder of the road, prayed to God for help, and looked up in time to see our moving van pull up behind us and put the kayak on the van!

But road movies don't end when the disruptions start happening. Those events take place in the middle of the story in order to introduce humor and tension and set the stage for later character development. The resolution or climax of the story comes later, when those disruptions start to change the characters for the better, so that they can return home not simply with souvenirs such as beat-up cars, new friends, or a newfound criminal history, but rather with a new perspective on life and personal agency.

I have told my kayak story many many many times, but only recently have I started to see the lesson of it. Only recently have I started to demand more from God. I have started asking God for things. I have tried to familiarize myself with God’s word so that I would trust the things I ask for are in line with what God is eager to give me. I pray for healing for people who are suffering. I pray for equality and justice for those who are oppressed. I pray that the planet would be stewarded so that future generations can not just enjoy God’s creation but simply survive in it. I pray for safety and security and daily bread. I pray for these things because I have come to see God as a loving giver of gifts. I pray that you would come to see God in this same way. Amen.