3/23/30
Weathering the Storms of Life
Luke 10:24-28, Matthew 7:24-29

Note: this is a change from the announced sermon on Forgiveness. Normally, forgiveness it not something that should be put on hold, but in light of the oubreak of the war against Iraq this past week, I thought it important to take a look at what happens when we find the normal foundations of our world in upheaval.

Before we hear the reading from Matthew 7, let’s discuss two points about this seemingly simple story, a favorite of Sunday School teachers everywhere.
1) First, Jesus tells this story at the end of, perhaps as the summation of,
his Sermon on the Mount

2) We need to remember something weather patterns in first century
Palestine. You could get away with building any kind of house on any kind of soil during the dry season, when not a drop of rain falls. And then when the rains and the floods came washing down the dry wadis, or creek beds, a house built on sand would be destroyed, while a house built on rock
would stand solid. A house may seem fine for the present, but only the one
who has built with the coming storm in mind is really secure.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock; and the rain fell, and the floods came; and the winds blew and beat upon that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And every one who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house upon the sand; and the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell; and great was the fall of it. Matthew 7:24-27

October and November can bring strange weather to New England. Cold air masses come in from Canada from the northwest, while warm air from stored summer heat in the ocean comes up the Atlantic coast. The result: a massive storm called a “Nor'easter” Toss in an Atlantic hurricane and you get what meteorologists call a “Perfect Storm.”

On October 28, 1991 that’s exactly what happened.

Hundreds of homes and businesses were either knocked from their foundations or simply disappeared. Sea walls, boardwalks, bulkheads, and piers were reduced to rubble over a wide area. Small boats were sunk at their berths and thousands of lobster traps were destroyed. High winds brought down utility poles, lines, tree limbs, and signs in several states.

Two men were drowned off of Staten Island when their boat capsized. A man fishing from a bridge in New York was either blown or swept off and a fisherman was swept off the rocks at RI by heavy surf. Offshore, six lives were lost when the Andrea Gail, a sword fishing boat, sank. You may have seen the movie The Perfect Storm which painted much of this in vivid detail.

It’s been raining a lot lately, hasn’t it.

And it seems to me that, especially in Oregon,
we’ve had a perfect storm of our own brewing for some time.

Now it’s here.

1. The economy
a. Highest unemployment rate in nation
b. Stocks have tanked, and with them, retirement incomes
c. Church gets call after call about rent money, etc
d. Huge stressor on extended families
e. School funding crisis:

2. Sept. 11
a. A new vulnerability on our own soil,
not felt since the end of the cold war
b. Gnawing fears amplified by ever-changing terrorist alerts: now yellow, now orange, buy duct tape, stock up on water

3. Outbreak of War
a. Most of us know someone directly involved
b. Coverage is non-stop
c. Terrorist alerts heightened
d. For the great many who tried to prevent it, who wrote and spoke and called and marched, who believed that it is not in the best traditions of American life to engage in a pre-emptive war, there is a gut wrenching sense of heartsickness, of grief, of powerlessness and great loss. I count myself among them.

Add this all together and what do you have?
A lot of rain.
A perfect storm.

Is there any good news in the storm?

Oddly enough, yes.

As those of you who lived through the Depression and WWII know, times of crisis are an excellent time to discover what’s real in your live, what’s important, what’s eternal.

It’s an excellent time to consider where we really put our ultimate trust.
It’s an excellent time to ask the same question that the lawyer put to Jesus: “ \What must I do to live in the kingdom of God?”

“What do the scriptures say?” replied Jesus, knowing that the answer was nothing new, indeed, it was very, very old.

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself,” came the answer.

“Exactly!” replied Jesus – and one more thing. (I’m paraphrasing here). “Now do this. Don’t just think about it, don’t just talk about it, but do this –
and you shall live.”

Of course, it’s not as simple an answer as it seems at first.
This three part commandment of
loving neighbor as self (comes out of a loving self)
and loving God with totality of our beings

isn’t fully supported in our world, is it?

And so its easy to think we can shortcut that reality,
hedge our bets –in fact relying on money, on government, and let’s face it, our military; for our security. I do it. Ask the Search Committee just how reluctant I was to put my insurance at risk.

But the Bible wisely warns us, in Psalm 146 among other places:
“Put not your trust in princes,
in a son of man, in whom there is no help.
When his breath departs he returns to his earth;
on that very day his plans perish.

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord our God
who made heaven and earth,
the sea, and all that is in them,
who keeps faith for ever,
who brings justice to the oppressed
and gives food to the hungry.”

And should we find, when the storms come,
that we have hedged our bets and cut corners
and relied more on humans and human constructs than on God;
should we find when the rains come that we in fact
built our houses on sand rather than on rock,
great may be the falling of it.

That doesn’t sound like good news; to find that we have not constructed our lives as solid a ground as we had thought. But it can be. Better to find out sooner than later, yes? Better to find out now rather than never, yes? At least I think so.

So does Gordon MacDonald, a Massachusetts minister whose life and marriage came apart spectacularly and publically some years ago – from the lessons he learned he wrote a very fine book that concludes with this parable (and pardon the shift from the house building metaphor to a boat building metaphor).

A PARABLE

Taken from the book The Life God Blesses by Gordon MacDonald
Once a wise man prepared to build a boat. His intention was that his boat would provide opportunities for his family’s recreations. But he also had in mind that it might be used for the enjoyment of others who could not afford to have a boat. If there were times, he thought, when he could welcome less advantaged people aboard his boat after it was built, he would be glad.

As the wise man planed for the day when the building would commence, he sat down with sailors with much more experience than himself. What have you learned about boats? he asked each one. What does a good boat look like? What have been your good and bad experiences? What should I avoid? What advice do you have about what is important in the building of a boat? And as the old sailors with their accumulated experiences spoke, he listened carefully.

They spoke to him of seas that were both beautiful and dangerous. Of islands he might someday visit. But they also spoke of shoals and sandbars to avoid. They told of the beautiful seasons for sailing and warned of sudden storms at other times. And when they got to the subject of boats, they emphasized the importance of well designed keels and properly distributed weight below the waterline. There was talk of the shape of hull that would best cut through the water and of materials that would guarantee the seaworthiness of the boat in the roughest of times.

When he asked about sails and rigging, about cabins and fittings, they cautioned him to be practical. Don’t worry half as much about the appearance of your boat, about those things that win nautical beauty contests. Concern yourself most about materials and designs that can withstand rough waters and brutal storms. Go for sails that will not tear, masts that will not topple, rigging that is designed for maximum stress. Don’t make your cabin a castle; make it a safe place where you can be warm and dry when the seas are rough. And so as the advice from the old sailors poured in, he recorded every comment in his notebooks.

The picture of a strong sailboat began to emerge on the architect’s table. With every passing day, it became clear: this boat would provide maximum enjoyment for a wise man, his family, and his friends. It would offer safety and stability. Why, some said, this is the kind of boat you’d feel confident sailing to Europe or around the world.

Only when the plans were complete did the wise man begin to build. And as he’d been advised, he gave careful attention to those parts of the boat that no one would ever see once the boat was put into the water. Yes, there were moments of temptation to get more quickly to the more visible aspects of the boat. But when the temptations came, so did the memory of the horror stories and the council of the older sailors. And he returned to what he’d learned was most important.

Thus, the keel was laid; the hull was carefully built. And upon that foundation the remainder of the boat was built. The old sailors often stopped by with words of encouragement and council. And each time they came, there were enthusiastic conversations and rich assurance. The wise man was on the right track, they said.

But other members of the boat club took little or no notice. They preferred their cocktails, the club dances, the Sunday afternoon regattas with all the clubbiness that went along with such a life. When they spoke of boats in the harbor, they spoke of color and brand names and expensive gadgets. But they hardly spoke at all about the wise man’s craft, which was slowly being built at one of the club’s wharf. It was all too obvious: they weren’t impressed, and they weren’t interested.

On the day the boat that the wise man had built was finished, he arranged for it to be lowered into the water. His family was there, and the old sailors joined them. And they cheered as he pointed the boat toward the harbor’s entrance for its maiden voyage. As the sailing craft turned it’s bow toward the sea, all those who were watching noticed the name the wise man had painted on the stern: the Christos. Some knew the significance of the name: but others did not, and they wondered..

It was a beautiful day when the wise man pointed the Christos out to sea. Across the horizon were a thousand boats, so it seemed, each bobbing along as the gentle rhythms of the waves moved them about. The sun was high and the breeze was moderate. It was, all in all, a magnificent day for sailing.

A magnificent day, that was, until mid afternoon. And then suddenly a storm from seemingly nowhere swept it. There was hardly a warning! The Coast Guard had not predicted a storm, and it caught everyone as a terrible surprise. Suddenly, boats were no longer gently bobbing up and down. They were pitching and tossing. Soon everyone was headed at full power toward the harbor, but the wind made it difficult to make headway. In a few minutes the radio waves were filled with distress calls: Mayday! Mayday! Here and there one could see any number of boats lying on their sides, their owners climbing on to inflatable rafts and hoping for rescue.

The wise man in his new boat, the Christos, saw all of this. He could feel his newly built craft responding to the storm. Each wave that fell across the decks was a test of the boat’s strength. But the wise man had built a strong yacht. The weight below the water line kept it steady on course, and while the stiffest of wind gusts often blew the boat over on to one side or the other, it always righted itself as sailboats were designed to do. Before long the wise man was filled with confidence that if he was diligent with his skills and strength, he could ride out the storm.

But riding out the storm was not enough. He also set forth to attempt the rescue of others whose boats were not built for such tempests. As the winds blew and the waves mounted with greater force, the wise man steered his boat in one direction and then another plucking hapless sailors from the sea. And only when the Christos was low in the water because of the weight of so many sailors pulled from the ocean did the wise man turn toward the harbor and for the safety of its calm waters.

Today in the front entrance of the club’s restaurant, there is a large painting on the wall. Everyone who enters sees this first of all. The wise man stands in the foreground of this painting, and behind him is the Christos. Beneath the painting is a statement of commendation written and signed by the members of the boat club. It recalls the heroic efforts of the wise man and the incredible resiliency of his remarkable boat on the day of the great storm. When you look at this painting and you read the commendation, you know one thing for sure: this wise man will never be forgotten.

It’s a great story, isn’t it? But, what if you find, during the storm, that you are one of the ones in the boats that is sinking?

Allow me another long quote, as we listen to writer Anne Lamott, one of the more unusual Christian writers around today –

“ It's because I got sober, against all odds, and then I started hanging out with people who were trying to get sober too, and over time I got to watch a number of the walking dead come back to life -- as I came back to life.

So I believe in the basic Christian message: that life happens, death happens and then new life happens. I believe in resurrection. So sue me. Or go read something else. You can't get to the good stuff without killing off the old stuff.

When you give up all hope, you're probably only giving up the hope
of getting your own outcome to happen. You're probably only giving up the hope that it will turn out that you actually have lots of power and input;
that you are secretly God's West Coast representative.

But it was when I was hopeless, caught in desperation and grief,
that I got humble, teachable, willing to surrender.

Of course, I grew up with an older brother,
so to me surrender means you get your face ground in the dirt.

It means you get noogies on your upper arm
and then you have to go downstairs and get him oranges.
But surrender to God means you come over to the winning side.
A synonym for surrender is yield, which means, agriculturally, to step aside and let something grow.

(Surrender is) about giving up the dubious comfort of the earthly,
of human appearances where everything works or seems to.
It's about giving up on the superficial, in order to go way down below.

It's about the willingness or necessity of being wiped out of what
you think holds you together, to face a benevolent annihilation, without all the stuff that you think defines you,
the stuff where we live, which we think is reality.
Because you have to give up some false stuff to get to the true.

I think it is a terrible system.
I think they should let you have your true authentic healed whole self and the cool car. I think you should get to have an awareness of the eternal now and the buns of steel.

But as a species, (most of us) are pumped full of the longing for more,
for better security, to help the race go on, to help the system keep running,
and this runs roughshod over the material of the soul.

It's much louder and more compelling than the parts of us that are free, that we lived in and were surrounded by when we were in the womb, unattached, full of light.

Catastrophe puts us in the situation of thinking, ‘This is so (awful) and I hate this so much, but if I hang out here without armor or drugs or my old patterns, being here will shine a dark light onto the garish distracting stuff, and then past it, to what is maybe true.’

Being at the end of your rope is usually what it takes to convince your ego -- your little armed Brinks guard -- to say, ‘Hey! We can throw all this (stuff) off the side of the boat!’We'll be fine.

And nothing in you is going to believe this for a second, which is why it can be a gift to be in crisis.

The (stuff) gets thrown overboard,
and you come to with that having happened. You come to.
This is the Easter message,
that awakening is possible,
to the goodness of God,
the sacredness of human life,
the sisterhood and brotherhood of all. “

And so I am filled with hope.
May this crisis we face, this perfect storm that rages about us,
wake us up and open our eyes
to the best of God’s promises and hopes for us
as individuals, as families, as a church,
as a nation, and as a world.

Amen.

*Apologies to Anne Lamott for the editing I did to render her wonderful words a little more, say, “pulpit palatable.”

MacDonald, Gordon. The Life God Blesses: Weathering the Storms of Life that Threaten the Soul. (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1994).

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