sermon

I had a chance to preach this morning.  I feel blessed to serve as a mouthpiece for words others might find helpful.  Written text follows; it always comes out a little differently in spoken form.  (Job 38:1-11; 2 Cor. 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41)

            I know many of you are parents, and many others among you have beloved nieces, nephews, family friends, or favorite kids to watch during the amusement of the children’s message.  Consequently, perhaps you’re familiar with one or more of these phrases:

            “I can’t do it.”

            “I need help.”

            “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”

            Any of these ring a bell?

            I recently heard or read a very interesting reflection upon this passage from Mark, and I am crossing both fingers and toes that I didn’t hear it here, because if I did, some of you might find this rather redundant… but I feel it tells us something so important that I’m going to take the risk.  If what I say next sounds familiar, consider it review.  :-)

            First, and this is the part I don’t remember from the reflection I read or heard, so hey—new material!—the disciples are taking Jesus into the boat, and not vice versa.  Jesus is placing himself in their hands.  Mark’s words emphasize that Jesus is not the guy in charge.  “…they took him with them in the boat, just as he was.”  No luggage; no tools; no life vest.

            Next, and here’s where that other reflection comes into play, Jesus is asleep.  Totally out of control.  Again, Jesus has placed himself in his disciples’ hands.  He trusts them to navigate their fishing boat across the Sea of Galilee, even as the wind rises and the waves begin to swell.  Mark gives us a picture of a man who is totally unconcerned.  His disciples have the skills to manage this situation.

            However.  Do his disciples agree with this assessment?  The answer to that question appears to be a resounding “no.”  Like children turning to an adult for help, they wake Jesus in a panic, asking, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

            Like a parent, Jesus responds to the disciples’ needs.  He rebukes the wind (love that phrase) and commands the sea to be still—and then he turns toward his erstwhile guardians.  “Why are you afraid?”  Have you still no faith?”  The disciples are hung up on their astonishment that even the wind and the waves obey this man.  I hope they eventually recognized something more.

            You see, Jesus had a vested interest in remaining with the world until it was his time to depart.  He didn’t want to die on the Sea of Galilee.  But he knew the disciples were capable of completing the work they’d been given—the task of transporting Jesus across the sea.  Unfortunately, the disciples didn’t share that faith.  They didn’t see themselves as capable.  They didn’t trust that the God who had granted them this task would also grant them the skills they needed to complete it.

            How often are we like those disciples? 

            Two pieces of good news:

1)    The God who commands us to work for the kingdom of God will give us the tools we need to perform that work;

2)    When we get scared—and we will—God will step in, set us back on our feet, and remind us we can have faith in our abilities.  They are gifts from God.

Sometimes I struggle with understanding the work God has called me to do.

(And by “sometimes” I mean “very often,” so if you’re also in this boat, welcome to the journey—you’re not alone.)  Here’s where today’s reading from Job might come into the picture.  (I bet you were thinking I’d just ignore Job… ha!  Nope, I’m ignoring Paul today… sorry, Paul… ponder him on your own time…) 

            “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?  Tell me, if you have understanding.  Who determined its measurements—surely you know!  Or who stretched the line upon it?  On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?” (Job 38: 4-7)

            From Job we learn two things.  One, God can be sarcastic.  I love that.  Two, God is bigger than our understanding.  You’ve heard or read me blather on before about God being bigger and wider and deeper and broader than our human understanding.  When I was youth worker here, many moons ago now, I always told “my” kids that the most important thing I wanted them to remember was that they were loved—that in the end, they were going to be okay.   Funnily enough, one of their fathers told me this very same truth just the other day.  It’s a truth we should continually share with each other.  I want you to remember that; I also want you to remember that the only real “answer” in life is that we don’t have all the answers.  If you start to suspect you do, get in a boat and look for a squall.  The experience will adjust your thinking right quick.

            We see dimly, but there is One who sees clearly.  We question our abilities, but there is One who knows we are equipped for the work that lies before us.  We aren’t always sure what that work should be, but we can trust that the One who seeks clearly will guide our journey. 

            A wise man you may know—Compact build? Tenor? Great laugh? Hung around here a couple decades?—once told me he believes that if we trust in God’s guidance, the decisions we make will eventually bring us around to our intended journey, even if we wind up taking the scenic route to get there.  I’d liken this to Godly GPS.  Every now and then you might miss a turn, but that map will “recalculate” and find a new road that takes you toward your destination.

            Jesus gave his disciples a destination, and he trusted they would reach it.  They didn’t trust themselves.  Like a parent, he stepped in to help—and like a parent, he reminded them that they really did have the ability to carry out their task.   They didn’t get it; he didn’t stop teaching them. 

God knows our journey.  God guides us on our way.  God gives us the tools we need to perform our own unique work for God’s kingdom.  Thanks be to God for these gifts and these promises.