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 Earth As It Is In Heaven

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

[Jesus] put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.”

He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.”

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“Have you understood all this?” They answered, “Yes.” And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”

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I was grateful for today’s Gospel in a different kind of way this week. With everything going on in the world, my last few sermons have been pretty heavy, it seemed. And this one could be, too, of course. The parables can be as challenging and as heavy and as hard as anything, but I don’t have it in me to go there again today. I’m not sure what was going on in the news the day Jesus rattled off these parables about the Kingdom of Heaven – it seems impossible they were having a year like we’ve had so far in 2020, but who knows? Whatever the case, I found myself just wanting to muse about Jesus’ penchant for painting a picture of the Kingdom of Heaven – those mustard seeds, that yeast and flour, the treasure in a field, the merchant, the fine pearl and the fishing net, too.

I – and countless other preachers and theologians – have dissected and theologized and philosophized and pontificated about the deep meaning behind each of these parables. Volumes have been written about the meaning of the mustard seed. Tomes have been written about the treasure in the field. Pages and pages and paragraph after paragraph have been penned about fine pearls, and all the rest.

So usually, when this Gospel collection of Jesus’ parables shows up, I pick one and run with it, adding my two cents to what so many, smarter more faithful preachers than me, have already said about any one of these images of the Kingdom.

So, this time around, I decided to wonder about all of them together. And I thought it seems possible that maybe Jesus is more like brainstorming with himself or spit-balling at a board meeting more than he is preaching to or teaching the disciples anything he’s absolutely certain about with these parables. (This whole section of parables in Matthew’s Gospel begins with Jesus taking a seat by the sea, then getting into a boat when the crowds surround him. He may not have been out there prepared to preach and teach at all that day when he said these things.)

So I’m just wondering, what if this litany of parables is more like Jesus musing outloud and trying to find the words himself to describe the Kingdom of Heaven to his friends and followers in some way that makes sense. After all, all of those parables, full of their metaphors and analogies and illustrations and teaching moments don’t, frankly – in their details – have a whole lot in common. But, taken together, I realized, their message and meaning seem to say two pretty simple, but profound, holy, and inspiring Truths.

First … the kingdom of heaven is all around us, all of the time, in simple, surprising, everyday things. (In seeds and fields, in treasure and pearls, in flour and fishing nets, and all the rest.)

And second … you know it when you see it.

So, first things first … the kingdom of heaven is all around us, all of the time. And I’m not talking about “samples” of the kingdom. Not “images” of the kingdom. Not “illustrations” or “metaphors” or “analogies” or mere “approximations” of the kingdom. But I believe the Good News of Jesus was and is that the Kingdom of Heaven IS. The Kingdom of Heaven is alive and well and around us, now, right where we sit or stand, and out there in the world, too.

And, again, we know it when we see it. We feel it when it finds us. We are moved by the Kingdom when we sense that we’re moving within the Kingdom.

So, I wonder … have you seen it? Have you experienced it lately? Have you witnessed your life and faith coming together in ways that might have felt a little bit like heaven on earth? If you were by the sea in Galilee, spit-balling with Jesus about what the Kingdom of Heaven might be like, what would you suggest to keep the conversation going?

I have some ideas, but I’d love to hear yours. (This is the “crowd participation” portion of the sermon that most Lutherans would only do by way of Zoom, so I thought I’d take advantage of it. Because you can share your ideas with me or with everybody using the “Chat” feature at the bottom of your screen. You don’t actually have to talk in church! If you want to be even more shy and anonymous, even, send me a private Chat message and I won’t tell who said what.)

No pressure, though. I’m going share some from my own spit-balling and brainstorming and invite you to sit with them for a moment or so. Some are specific and particular. Some are more universal and common ground we all might share in one way or another. Whatever the case, I hope we can reflect on and relish the Kingdom among us, this morning, so that we might recognize it more often in the magnificent and the mundane of our daily lives going forward.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like holy communion in your living room or kitchen, these days.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like an acoustic guitar and a cleverly turned lyric, something like John Prine or the Indigo Girls, if I had my pick.

Speaking of a cleverly turned lyric. I read this poem, this week, written by a four-year old with a book deal. (I’m not sure if the Kingdom of Heaven is like a four year-old with a book deal, but this poem is pretty great.)

Coming Home Nadim Shamma-Sourgen (4 years old)

Take our gloves off. Take our shoes off.
Put them where they’re supposed to go.
You take off your brave feeling
Because there’s nothing
to be scared of in the house:
no dark caves, no monsters,
no witches, no bees, no howling sounds
You don’t need your brave anymore.
Wash your hands. Eat lunch. Go get cozy.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is not needing your “brave” anymore.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the smell of puppy breath.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like making love and meaning it.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is being able to offer forgiveness, fully; and to receive it, fully, just the same.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the perfect gift – given or received.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is like baseball’s opening day and the Buckeye Marching Band taking the field on a perfect Fall Saturday afternoon.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is a well-earned vacation.

The Kingdom of Heaven is justice done … mercy extended … gracious compassion.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven will happen later this morning when the body of Representative John Lewis is marched across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, one last time, as part of his life’s celebration.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is when the healing comes … and I think it’s also the ability to muster hope when it doesn’t.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is saying goodbye and walking out the door for the last time, knowing you’ve said all there is to say.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is the ability to preach a sermon without words.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like laughter that brings tears and belly aches and more laughter, still.

I think the Kingdom of Heaven is that sound or scent or song or season that pleasantly surprises you with the memory of a moment or a person or a place you haven’t thought about in a while. 

Today – and in these days, especially, perhaps, – we are called to see and to be the Kingdom of Heaven for one another and for the sake of the world. And today, Jesus reminds us that we are surrounded by the Kingdom at every turn. God is relentless about showing us the Kingdom in our midst. And I think Jesus means to open our hearts and our minds and our eyes so that we will see it more often and rest assured and be at peace and find joy in its fullness – on earth as it is in heaven.

Amen

P. S. Thankfully, Zoom recorded the “crowd participation” portion of the sermon, since I couldn’t see or say all of the Chat replies in real time. Below is the complete list of responses, from those in both worship services, about the ways and places they’ve seen or experienced the Kingdom of Heaven lately. Thanks for playing along.

Baptisms

The kingdom is in laughter.

The kingdom is in the smile of a child.

Neighbors coming together during the pandemic – in distant ways, outside.

The rising chorus demanding justice for all people.

I see it when I am walking on the open space trail with the Rocky Mountains to the west.

When a grandchild looks at you with adoring eyes and says "I love you Grandma."

In the beauty and abundance of nature around us on our patio this morning.

Knowing that God brought my husband home from the hospital to still be with me.

Watching families being together in the outdoors as I ride my bicycle.

In the blooming of flowers.

From the playfulness of the four paws in our lives.

Neighbors who watch over and are there for me!

The beauty of nature God has given us.

We had a beautiful granddaughter born this week!!!

Neighbors sharing meals.

Watching a brilliant sunset last weekend.

The joy of kids cannonball jumping into a swimming pool.

Love of dogs and cats and their ways to make a bad day better.

We saw seagulls turning pink in the sunset over Lake Erie.

 A momma duck and her babies gliding on the pond.

Every time we work with the food pantry.

Lindsey's Thursday night yoga on the labyrinth.

Wonderful conversations with friends and family.

Double rainbow.

Being on a boat on a lake!

Abby caught the ball yesterday getting the batter out and Ginny reinvigorated the team for a win.

Walking on the beach.

Watching the sunset over the ocean.

Feeling safe on a huge roller coaster.