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Foundry United Rev. |
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“Faith and Fire” Sunday, May 25, 2008 |
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I Peter 1: 3-9
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Between
now and the end of June we are focusing on the theme of “Jetsam and Flotsam
on the The
question is: In my life and in yours, what is jetsam and what is flotsam? In
our faith heritage, what is jetsam and what is flotsam? In our life together
as a congregation what is jetsam and what is flotsam? In our life as a nation,
what is jetsam and what is flotsam? It is
very difficult to tell during ordinary days, isn’t it? When life is going
well, and when our health is good enough, and when we are managing to get
along with one another well enough in our households and in our neighborhoods,
and at work and at church, and when enough money is coming in to pay the
bills more or less, when life is going okay, it is very hard to discern the
difference between jetsam and flotsam. It
usually takes a storm to really be able to begin to tell the difference. But
when a storm is rising, and our ships begin to be tossed about, and we are in
danger of drowning, for those who are wise, it becomes easier to tell what is
jetsam and what is flotsam. I want
to talk a bit this morning g about the importance of storms in life. I do
this hesitantly and hopefully modestly, because it is a dangerous topic. We
have just witnessed several devastating storms and natural disasters in the
world in which people have lost their lives. They have lost loved ones, homes
and livelihood. We have not yet recovered from Katrina, and there are those
persons and families who never will recover from Katrina in this generation
or the next. These storms are tragic. There
are those who have suggested that natural disasters – storms or hurricanes or
diseases – are acts of God…punishments from God. No! Jesus himself eschewed
this kind of thinking. Jesus said that the sun shines on the evil and the
good and that rain falls on the just and the unjust – nature is impartial.
(Matthew 43: 45) Storms and plagues
and luck are part of the impartial natural order. They shine on us
independent of our worthiness or unworthiness. They fall on us regardless of
our deserving or not deserving them. Storms
are just a part of the natural order of things. Disease is part of the
natural order of life. Jesus himself said this when people asked him who had
sinned to cause someone to be born blind, and he said that blindness was not
a consequence of sin but an opportunity for God’s people to manifest God’s
love and power. (John 9:3) Disease is not personal but part of the natural
order of life. Conflict
is part of the natural order of community. Conflict is not personal. It is
the result of diverse interests and commitments and values which occur naturally
in the life of communities. War is an intentional decision. War is avoidable.
But conflict is natural and unavoidable. War is conflict mismanaged. But the
conflicts in our relationships and neighborhoods and workplaces and
congregations and nations and world are natural occurrences, like storms and
diseases. They just are. The
question “Why me?” which all of us ask when we face a storm or a physical
challenge or conflict in our lives can only be answered by the question: “Why
not me?” If
storms are normal and inevitable, why would I expect never to find myself in
the midst of a storm? If illness and disease is part of the natural
occurrence of life, why would I expect never to find myself or those I love
struggling with illness? If conflict is part of the natural order of
community, if I am in community, why would I expect never to have to face
conflict? Our new
grandson has spent most of his young life in the hospital. We are very
fortunate because he has access to the best medical care in the world, and he
has loving parents and no corners have to be cut. In 9/10th of the
world, he probably would not have survived. So we are very fortunate, yet, in
our humanity, we are sometimes tempted to ask, “Why me?” But after sitting
with countless families throughout the years whose beloved babies have
suffered illness, the only answer is “Why not me?” Storms
are part of the natural order. They may be heightened by global warning and
other manifestations of human irresponsibility, or they may be tempered by
human compassion and caring, but fundamentally they are part of the natural
order of things – impartial, shining on the evil and good, falling on the
just and the unjust equally. Yet,
First Peter believes that, while they may be impartial and while they may not
be personal, storms serve a higher purpose. While they are not acts of God,
yet still they serve a higher metaphysical purpose. They refine our faith,
First Peter says, the way fire refines gold. First
Peter says that in each of us there is something – these are his words –
there is something “imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.” There is something of heaven in each of
us…some share of eternity. We each have received an inheritance from God,
which is the imperishable, undefiled and unfading in us. We will
not know this fully, however, First Peter says, except as we are refined by
fire – by the storms and ordeals of life – the way gold is refines by fire. The
storms are not acts of God, they are not personal, but they are occasions for
rejoicing in a strange way, First Peter says, because they purify our faith. First
Peter says: “In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had
to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith – being more
precious than gold that, though perishable, is refined by fire – may be found
to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” We
learn who we really are when we are in the midst of the storm…when we are in
the fire. First Peter says that we should remember to rejoice when we are in
the storm because it is here we find a faith that is genuine…it is here that
we find in ourselves that which is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.” It is
in the storm that we discover what is jetsam and what is flotsam. Some of
us are just back from the annual conference of the Baltimore-Washington Conference
of the In the
discussion about continuing conference-wide dialogue teams concerning the
full inclusion of GLBTQ people in the It has
been a couple of stormy years at annual conference. It is fascinating to me
that several times during the conference, Bishop Schol retold the story of Shadrach,
Meshach, and Abednego. It is a story from the Book of Daniel in which the
King throws three young faithful Israelites into a fiery furnace to execute
them, but they do not burn, and when the King looks into the furnace he sees
a fourth person in the fire. The
bishop said that the meaning of the story is that we have a God who is with
us in the fire, and he has reason to know this, our bishop does. First
Peter says we discover God in the fire, in the storms of life, but more
importantly we discover that which is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading in
us in the fire…in the storm. We discover what is genuine in us. This is
true for you and me. It is true for us as a congregation. It is true for us
as a city and as a region. It is true for us as a nation. It is in the storms
of life that we discover the genuineness of our faith – that in us which is
imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. We are
all human. We wish life did not have its storms. We wish there was no
disease. We wish there was no conflict. We envision the day when there will
be perfect peace and no more tears. But in
the meantime, the storms help us discover what is jetsam and what is flotsam…what
really matters…what is really important. The
storms give us courage. Without the storms, we would not know whether we are
brave or not. Yesterday
we ordained a new class of ministers at the Baltimore-Washington Conference.
I participated with very mixed feelings. I had the great joy of sponsoring
two candidates being ordained – The
reason we are in the situation we are in is less because we have people in
our churches who don’t understand sexual orientation than because we have so
many people who do understand but who tolerate what they know to be wrong
because they do not want to alienate others. They don’t want to face the
storm. They don’t want to face the fire. Bishop
Tom Bickerton was the preacher for ordination and he was, I think, trying to
tell the ordinands to have courage, to be brave. He told
about one of his district superintendents who had a stroke and then an
operation. After the operation there was a time of waiting to see how much he
would recover of his abilities and skills. In the beginning he could not
speak or respond. He said
he and the man’s wife were sitting with him in the hospital one day when the
man began to shudder and shake, and they tried to comfort him and quiet him
down. As they were trying to comfort him the doctor walked in and said,
“How’s our patient today?” The
bishop said in a quiet voice, “He is having some kind of convulsion.” The
doctor said, “Well, let’s see how he’s doing.” He went to the man and thumped
him on the chest, and then called him by name and said, “Wake up! Wake up!” He
spoke to the man in a loud and demanding voice. The
doctor took the man’s hand and said, “I want you to squeeze my hand. Squeeze
my hand.” …And finally the man squeezed his hand. The
doctor told the family not to be afraid to talk loudly to him, not to be
afraid to expect him to regain his capacities, not to be afraid to expect him
to live. Bishop
Bickerton was suggesting, I think, that we need clergy and leaders who are not
so intimidated by the shakes and distress and convulsions of the church that
they will not call it back to life. Rejoice,
First Peter says, even if for a little while there are storms in your life,
because the storms refine your faith like fire refines gold. Rejoice, First
Peter says, because the storms help us discover what to let go of and what to
cling to. Rejoice, First Peter says, because in the midst of the storm we
will discover that which is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. www.foundryumc.org |
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