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June 20, 2010 / 1 Corinthians 3:5-9 / Rev. Steve Young
It’s all a matter of perspective.
An English professor once wrote seven words up on the chalkboard as a class exercise in perspective. These were the seven words: a woman without her man is nothing. Then he asked his students to make sense of those seven words by punctuating it into a meaningful sentence.
Well, the males in the class considered this a rather straightforward exercise and did not take long in completing it. They all wrote the same thing: "A woman, without her man, is nothing."
The women in the class took a little bit longer to complete the exercise. But they all ended up with the same punctuation. They wrote: "A woman: without her, man is nothing."
One’s perspective can make all the difference in the world about how we evaluate something or someone.
For instance, who is Tony Hayward?
Is he one of the elite in the corporate world today? What a meteoric rise he has had! At 53 years of age he is the CEO of the fourth largest corporation in the world: British Petroleum.
Or is Tony Hayward some insensitive goon who has consistently downplayed the size of the oil spill in the gulf, who gives vague and evasive answers when he is questioned, and who doesn’t really seem all that concerned about the plight of those affected by the spill?
It’s a matter of perspective.
And who is Tiger Woods?
Is he the greatest golfer in our generation? At age 34 he has 71 PGA wins under his belt. Is he a magnificent athlete with no peers in his sport?
Or is Tiger Woods a despicable philanderer? Married to one of the most beautiful women in the world, yet one who betrayed his vows and her trust many times.
It’s a matter of perspective.
Who was Amos of our Old Testament reading? What was his true identity?
Was he a professional prophet from Judah who was prophesying without permission outside his jurisdiction? That was the way the priest of Bethel saw it (Amos 7:12-13).
Or was Amos just a simple shepherd and dresser of fig trees whom God had called to go and speak his message? (Amos 7:14-15).
Well, it was a matter of perspective.
And Paul of Tarsus, how shall we understand him?
One of the humorous stories in the book of Acts tells how Paul, after he had healed a man who was lame from birth, was hailed by the naïve townspeople of Lystra as a god come down to earth (Acts 14:8-15).
In the church of Corinth, there were very different perspectives about Paul. By the time 1 Corinthians was written the Christians in Corinth either idolized him or dismissed him. Some put him up on a pedestal and revered him as the founder of the church and the one through whom they became believers in Christ. “I belong to Paul,” they bragged. Others compared him negatively with the man who followed him at Corinth, Apollos of Alexandria. Apollos, the trained rhetorician, had it all over Paul in preaching. He was a brilliant, silver-tongued orator. He had persuaded many that Jesus was the Messiah and effectively taught believers from the Scriptures (Acts 18:24-28). Many in Corinth put Apollos high on the pedestal and dismissed Paul as passé. At Corinth they either loved Paul, or they dismissed him. It was a matter of perspective.
Now Paul had an expression that he introduced to the Corinthians to help them with their perspective on their leaders. It was the word διακονος (diakonos). It is the Greek word for “servant”. It is the Greek word from which we get our word “deacon”, traditionally a helper for the priest or the bishop. Paul wrote in verse 9, “We are God’s servants” (1 Cor. 3:9). And then again in 1 Cor. 4:1 he wrote: “Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ.” And when Paul wrote his letter to the Romans, he began: “Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ” (Rom. 1:1).
Now what do you think about Paul’s use of that term, applied to himself? Is “servant” a fit expression for one of the great figures of the early church to use in describing himself? Or is “servant” in this instance a rather artificial and forced expression of humility that hardly fits the stature of this towering theologian and missionary? Some would say that such a self-demeaning expression like “servant” is not a helpful one. It can only lead, they would say, to a person developing a negative self-image. With the sign “servant” plastered on one’s back, is that not an invitation for people to just pile on more burdens?
But I ask you, what if we were to put the stress, not on the first word of the phrase, but on the last word: a servant of God, a servant of Christ. If you put the emphasis on “God” and “Christ”, doesn’t that totally change the perspective?
What do you think? What kind of job do you think it would be for someone to be a butler to the Queen of England? Would that be a meaningful job? Would that be a rich and satisfying life? How about for the person who serves as the chauffeur for the pope? Would that be a rich and fulfilling job? How about for someone who was chosen to be the nanny for actress Kate Winslett’s two children? Would that be a meaningful job?
So how would it be to be a servant in the Lord’s employ? To serve at the Lord’s beck and call? To minister to the Lord’s needs?
What a great honor and privilege that would be! For the sake of pleasing the Lord Jesus Christ, who would not do the most menial of tasks, gladly and without complaining?
What would it mean for Paul to consider himself as a servant of Christ? Well, if Paul is a servant of the Lord, it means that it is his relationship with the Lord that defines his work. He is about God’s business. He is an employee in God’s business, which is the kingdom of God. It is the Lord who gives him his marching orders. It is the Lord who sets his tasks before him. Paul’s duty is to obey.
When it comes to the grand mission of the kingdom, Paul is not the visionary who leads the way. It’s not Paul’s vision—it’s God’s vision that matters. It is not Paul’s authority that needs to prevail; it is God’s authority that matters. When Paul uses the expression “servant of God” Paul sees himself as the Lord’s assistant in a cause far greater than himself.
The Lord’s mission was that the gospel be preached to all nations. It was to make disciples of the Gentiles. It was to win people to his obedience. It was to facilitate the outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon them. It was to instruct believers in the way of the Scriptures. It was to help them grow to maturity in their faith.
This is the perspective that Paul hoped to engender among the Corinthians. They were God’s field. Paul had planted; Apollos had watered. But the important thing was that God gave the growth (1 Cor. 3:6-9). The Corinthians were God’s building. Paul had laid a foundation; Apollos had built upon that foundation; now someone else was building upon that foundation. But the important thing was that the foundation was Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 3:9-11).
If the Corinthians changed their perspective and considered Paul and Apollos but as the Lord’s servants, they would see that they had made a mistake putting either Paul or Apollos up on a pedestal. Rather, it was Christ whom they needed to put up on the pedestal. If they could see that the important thing was God’s work—people coming to the Lord, people growing in the Lord—they would see that personalities, either revered or dismissed, loved or detested, wasn’t where it was at. It wasn’t where God was.
Early in my ministry, when I was serving in North Carolina, I attended an intentional growth seminar at Lake Junaluska, North Carolina. As part of the workshop each pastor was invited to choose a word that expressed best his or her identity as a pastor. Some chose the word “preacher”. Some chose the word “teacher”. Some chose “shepherd”. Some chose “healer”. Some chose “enabler”. Some chose “encourager”.
I chose the word “servant”. As I understood the nature of my ministry, it’s not about Steve Young, about making a name for myself, about establishing a little empire in the local church. Rather I have understood my ministry as having the goal of being obedient to my Lord and Savior, who has called me to serve as a pastor. There is a verse in the Scriptures that has helped me in that regard. It is the verse that says that we ought not to think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think (Rom. 12:3). That is from the Apostle Paul, too. That identity as servant has been reinforced in every survey of spiritual gifts that I have taken. It is always near the top in the list of my gifts.
And having that perspective of my identity as a pastor is why I usually sign my letters, “A servant of Christ, Pastor Steve” or “A servant of Christ, Steve Young”. It expresses how I see myself as a pastor.
Now I am ready to turn over the reins of leadership to a new pastor. It is part of the United Methodist appointment process.
And how shall we view that appointment process? With what perspective?
I know that there are some people who are cynical when it comes to appointment-making in the United Methodist Church. Some say that it is the means for a bishop assert his or her power. Some say it’s about whom you know in high places. Friends on the bishop’s cabinet never hurt at appointment-making time.
Now I don’t take that cynical position. You know that I’ve been trying to get to the mountains. Every change in appointments I tell that D.S. that I would like to have an appointment in the mountains. I haven’t gotten one yet!
I didn’t ask to serve on the Eastern Shore in 2001. But what a blessing that appointment was when my father in New Jersey came down with cancer and died while I was there. Every two weeks I was able to drive up the Delmarva Peninsula to South Jersey to see my dad. Now if I had been in Roanoke…?
I didn’t ask to come to Bethany in 2005 either. But what a blessing I found it to be to find an accomplished organist on our staff and to be able to listen to Rudy play on Sundays and practice every day of the week. You see, one of my goals in retirement is to get back to playing the organ. I have sat under the feet of a master!
God has been at work in the appointments I have served. I don’t take the United Methodist appointment system cynically. And neither does Pastor Art. He has written about coming to Bethany: “We recognize that God has called us to this appointment.”
Archie Leigh has a wonderful thing to say about that. He says that every one of the pastors we’ve had at Bethany has been different and that each one has brought a different gift to our church.
God has so many different vessels in his cupboard. There are vessels for eating and vessels for drinking. There are vessels for informal repasts, and there are vessels for formal dinners. There are vessels of wood and earthenware and silver and gold. God has so many different vessels for his use in the church.
We believe that this appointment business is not the bishop’s thing or Bethany’s thing or Pastor Art’s thing or my thing. We believe that appointments in the church are God’s thing. God calls us, and God sends us, and we obey. Each of us has a different role to play in the kingdom of God.
On Tuesday morning at the retirement ceremony at Annual Conference, my name was read. Susan and I arose from our seat on the stage and walked over to where the bishop was standing.
The bishop gave me a big hug, and she said to me, “You’ve done a superb job.”
From a human perspective that was a wonderful thing for me to hear. To know that I have pleased my superior. But that’s only a human perspective. There is another perspective that is far more important to me. And that is God’s perspective.
What will make all the difference to me will be if one day I hear our Lord say to me, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over the little things with which you have been entrusted. Enter now into the joy of your master.”
Preaching the Mystical Life
June 13, 2010 / Galatians 2:15-21 / Rev. Steve Young
I’ve known a few preachers who were avid golfers. Now I’m not an avid golfer. I’m an avid miniature golfer. I knew a preacher once in the North Carolina Conference who took his golf clubs with him each year to annual conference. He planned to be out on the links instead of in those boring business sessions. One morning of annual conference, dressed in shorts and golf shirt and carrying his golf bag, he got on the hotel elevator. And to his great surprise he came face to face with the bishop, dressed in his three-piece suit. I understand that the bishop was not happy to see him.
But even that embarrassment did not match the story I heard about another golf-obsessed preacher. You see, one Sunday morning this pastor awoke and discovered that it was a picture-perfect day for golfing. The sun was out, no clouds were in the sky, and the temperature was just right for playing golf. The preacher was in a quandary as to what to do, but shortly the urge to play golf overcame him. He called the assistant pastor to tell him that he was just feeling awful and there was no way that he could preach that day and to please handle the service for him. He threw his golf clubs into the trunk of his vehicle and drove three hours away to a golf course where no one would recognize him. Exhilarated, he walked out to the first hole on the course.
Now it so happened that an angel up above was watching the whole scene unfold and grew quite perturbed. The angel went to the Lord and said, "Look at that preacher out on the golf course on Sunday morning. He needs to be disciplined for what he is doing."
And God smiled in agreement.
It was the first hole, a 350-yard par 4. The preacher teed up the ball and took a mighty swing. And he hit it just perfectly. The ball sailed through the air, landed on the green, took one bounce, and bounded right in the cup. It was a perfect hole-in-one.
The angel was a little bit shocked. He turned to God and said, "Begging your pardon, sir, but I thought you were going to discipline him."
God smiled and said, "Think about it. Whom is he going to tell?"
There are some secrets perhaps that can’t be told. But there are others secrets that beg to be told. This sermon is about one of those secrets that needs to be shared far and wide.
Before I tell you the secret, let me illustrate.
Once upon a time there were two siblings, one named Casey and one named Tracy. They might have been male, or they might have been female. Or there might have been one of each. I’ll let you choose.
Casey was hardworking, competent, and honest on the job and highly valued in the workplace. Casey always treated other people with dignity and respect, no matter what their social station or their ethnic background. Casey went to church faithfully every Sunday and participated actively in the congregation. Casey was generous in contributing to charity and in volunteering in community causes.
That was Casey. And then there was Tracy.
Tracy was hardworking, competent, and honest on the job and highly valued in the workplace. Tracy always treated other people with dignity and respect, no matter what their social station or their ethnic background. Tracy went to church faithfully every Sunday and participated actively in the congregation. Tracy was generous in contributing to charity and in volunteering in community causes.
That was Tracy.
Well, it sounds almost as if Casey and Tracy were identical twins, doesn’t it? Well, outwardly they were certainly a lot alike. Their work habits were alike. Their worship habits were alike. Their community service was similarly impressive. Casey and Tracy were both productive and valued citizens and church members.
But I have a secret. Casey and Tracy were quite different people inside, with rather different motivations.
Casey believed in God and was preoccupied with always trying to do the right thing to please God. But Casey’s relationship with God was anxiety-producing. When things went well, as they sometimes did, Casey’s self-esteem was high. It seemed certain that God was pleased. And when there were good results, Casey felt good about life and about God. And self-pride pushed Casey to try to do even more good works in the future.
But when things went poorly, Casey was anxious and upset. Casey was understandably disappointed and figured that God must be disappointed as well. And so Casey determined to try to work longer and harder to make it up to God tomorrow. Much of the time, serious self-examination only brought Casey worry and anxiety. Was Casey really doing enough to please God, or did God require something more? Casey’s efforts to please God led to renewed effort at the workplace, in church, and in the community.
But Casey was not a happy camper.
It was different with Tracy.
When Tracy had had a good day and things went well, rather than expecting a pat on the back, Tracy would whisper something like, “Praise God” or “God is good” or “Thank you, Jesus.” Tracy was convinced that it was God’s Spirit at work within and without that brought forth the blessings of the day. So Tracy gave God the praise.
And when things went poorly, as they sometimes did, it would drive Tracy to the cross, where serious self-examination sometimes revealed personal shortcomings that needed to be confessed and where mercy and forgiveness and healing could always be found. When things went poorly, Tracy would just lean more heavily upon the Lord.
Overall, Tracy’s relationship with God was characterized by peace and calm and assurance. Tracy rested securely in the knowledge of the Savior’s love. Tracy believed that a right relationship with God was not something that could be earned, but something for which one trusted the Lord. And Tracy continued to work faithfully in the workplace and in church and in the community out of gratitude for God’s love and forgiveness.
And Tracy was at peace.
Do you see that even though Casey and Tracy looked alike to the casual observer, the two of them were really different inside? They both believed in God and did a lot of good, but the state of their souls was quite different. Tracy seemed to know a secret that Casey had not yet discovered.
Now the Apostle Paul knew people who were like Casey, and he knew people like Tracy.
Paul had met people whose lives were dominated by the drive to please God by fulfilling God’s law. Paul had met people whose lives were dominated by the desire to master every statute and commandment that God required and to keep each one. After all, Paul himself used to be like that. He was legalist #1 in obeying the laws of Moses and the traditions of the elders. He described his former life once to the Philippians by saying, “As to legal rectitude, I was blameless” (Phil. 3:6). As many other legalists, Paul was motivated in life by trying to keep the law perfectly. And in the process he would nitpick his own actions, and he would nitpick everyone else’s actions, to see how they conformed to his understanding of the law. I’m sure that as a legalist Paul accomplished an incredible number of things for his religion and for his synagogue that his fellow Jews would have admired.
But Paul was not happy.
And then something mystical happened to Paul. He says that the risen Lord spoke to him—a voice from heaven (Acts 22:6-9).
How in the world could this have happened? Were there any witnesses who heard the voice, too? Could they verify Paul’s experience? Could Paul’s experience be substantiated?
But through that mystical experience Paul became convinced that Christ was risen, that it was Christ whom he had been persecuting, that Christ had died for his sins, and that he, Paul, had been trying to get right with God in the wrong sort of way. And through this mystical experience Paul became a new person—penitent, humble, trusting, and at peace.
In his letter to the Galatians, Paul contrasted those two ways of living: the one seeking with all due human effort to gain acceptance with God and the other accepting one’s right standing with God as a gift (Gal. 2:16).
No one denies that the former way, the way of seeking to win God’s approval by obeying the law, has an authentic ring to it. It is the intuitive way. We know that there are no free lunches in life. If you’re getting a free lunch, someone else is paying. Maybe the restaurant is treating you. Maybe someone else is paying the bill. But someone is paying, because food is not free. Someone made the effort to grow it and transport it and prepare it, so you could eat it. Human intuition says that heaven must be like that, too. The way that seeks to win God’s approval by earning it is perfectly reasonable. It seems right. Don’t expect a handout. Work for the good things of God.
On the other hand, the latter way, that says that you can be made right with God through faith in Jesus Christ, seems counter-intuitive. It seems contrary to life as we know it. Trusting the death and resurrection of Christ for salvation seems too cheap and too easy. Just reach out and accept the gift. That seems way too easy! But Paul would remind us that our restored relationship with God is not a freebie. Paul would remind us that Christ paid the cost. Paul would remind us that Jesus had to die upon the cross to make it possible for us to receive it.
Such a counter-intuitive idea would never have been arrived at by human logic or human experience. In fact, the Apostle Paul said that it was revealed to him (Gal. 1:11-12). It was that secret hidden from human reason but revealed through the will of God. It was a secret meant to be told.
The mystical experience was so real for the Apostle Paul that he wrote: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:19-20).
“I have been crucified with Christ…” What was Paul saying here? How shall we interpret his words?
Can we take a strictly literal interpretation here? No, we cannot. Of course, Paul was not crucified with Christ literally.
What about a symbolic understanding here? Perhaps Paul uses the term “crucified with Christ” as a symbol to indicate that he was putting to death his selfish desires.
But I wonder if Paul would respond: But I mean something more than that. I mean to say that when Jesus was on the cross a part of me was crucified there, too. My sins were there. My sin nature was there. That part of me was decisively dealt with when Jesus died. My sins were atoned at the cross.
I wonder if we should not understand a mystical meaning here.
And when Paul goes on to say, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me,” what does he mean?
Of course, we cannot take this expression literally. Christ is now in heaven with his heavenly Father. His person is not with us.
Some would understand these words of Paul symbolically, to mean that some Christ-like principle is now governing his life.
Okay. But I wonder if Paul would say: I mean something more than that. I mean to say that there is a sense in which Christ does live within me. Christ lives in me through his Spirit, which is the same thing as the Holy Spirit. His Spirit guides me; it empowers me; it assures me; and it brings forth in me all sorts of good fruit.
I wonder if we should not understand a mystical meaning here.
Is this not the secret that begs to be told?
To the Colossians Paul wrote: “This message was kept secret for centuries and generations past, but now it has been revealed to God’s people…And this is the secret: Christ lives in you…” (Col. 1:26-27 NLT)
There is something more in life for the believer than the tireless struggle for acceptance with God through outward deeds. No! We would insist that there is the spiritual reality of the indwelling Christ, and he is the source of all sorts of good fruit and good works.
That was certainly the experience of Martin Luther, the 16th century Augustinian monk. In every way Luther had been an over-achiever as a monk. He wrote, “If ever a monk could have entered heaven by his monkish works, I was that man.” As an act of religious devotion, he went to Rome and climbed the Scala Sancta, the Holy Stairs, 28 marble steps on his hands and knees, praying at each step. But Luther was miserable inside. He felt so unworthy before God. He told Staupitz, his superior at the monastery, that he could not and dare not come to God until he was a better man.
“A better man?” his superior replied. “Christ came to save not good men, but sinners.”
Not long thereafter Luther fell deathly ill and lay many days at the gates of death. An aged brother-monk came to his bedside to help prepare him for death by reciting with him the Apostles’ Creed. He got to the line: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.”
Luther feebly repeated after him: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.”
“Nay,” the monk said, “You are to believe not merely in the forgiveness of David’s sins or of Peter’s sins; you must believe in the forgiveness of your own sins.”
Luther recovered from his deathly sickness. And as he went on to study the Book of Romans, he began to see a way out of his despair. He wrote: “I began to understand that the righteousness of God is that through which the just live by a gift of God, namely by faith. Here I felt as if I were entirely born again and had entered paradise itself through the gates that had been flung open.”
For Luther the life at peace with God was not to be attained by futile, never-ending, ever-defeated human effort. It could only be experienced by casting oneself on the love and mercy of God, as Jesus Christ revealed them.
You see, it is only when a person gives up the struggle that pride thinks it can win, but must forever lose, and when that person abandons oneself to the forgiving love of God that peace finally comes. This blessed experience with God doesn’t come by logical proof. It doesn’t come by scientific examination. It comes by a mystical inward experience, hidden from the world, but a shining reality to the believer. And to the one who experiences it, it is the key to vital faith, to joyful service, and to peace with God.
The secret is out!
May God grant each of you to experience that wonderful secret in your life!
“Living by Faith”
June 6, 2010 / 1 Kings 17:8-16 / Rev. Steve Young
President Ronald Reagan liked to tell the story about two twin boys, one of whom was an extreme optimist and the other was an extreme pessimist. Well, their parents were concerned about their emotional imbalance, and they took them to a child psychologist for help.
First, the psychologist worked with the pessimistic child. Trying to break the boy’s dour outlook, she took him into a room piled high to the ceiling with brand-new toys for him to play with. The psychologist observed the boy, but she was surprised by what she saw. Instead of being overjoyed at having so many toys to play with, the pessimistic lad burst into tears.
“What’s the matter?” the psychologist asked him. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys?”
“Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did, I’d only break them!”
Next the psychologist worked with the optimistic child. Trying to bring more realism to his outlook, she took the child to a room piled high with horse manure, and then she observed what the boy did. And the optimistic child, instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust at the stench, let out a yelp of delight. He clambered to the top of the pile and began to jump for joy.
The psychologist was baffled. “What are you so happy about?” she asked the boy.
The little boy exclaimed, “There’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!”
Well, Christian faith has within it that resonates with optimism. But facing life with faith is not the same thing as unadulterated optimism. Optimism is the naïve belief that the world is always wonderful and that our lives always have a storybook ending and that everybody always lives happily ever after. Most of us have lived long enough to know that that is not always the case.
Faith is something more than that. Faith is the conviction that God exists, that God is good, that God is in ultimate control of things, and that God can be trusted. Faith is the conviction that God provides what his people need for whatever trial or test they are going through at the present moment. Faith is the conviction that the future will be bright for those whose hearts are right with God.
What an unusual setting to find a powerful illustration of faith than in our Old Testament lesson this morning!
In the midst of a horrible drought that had affected the whole region of Palestine, Elijah the prophet is told to go to Zarephath, a seacoast town in the nation of Phoenicia, a pagan nation outside the boundary of Israel. Phoenicia had been Jezebel’s home. It would not normally be a hospitable place for a prophet of Yahweh to visit. People didn’t worship Yahweh in Phoenicia. They were worshipers of Baal, the god of fertility. They thought that when you worshiped Baal faithfully, Baal would ensure that the early and the late rains would come to guarantee the success of their crops. But Baal worshipers were going through tough times, because the land was in the grip of a horrible drought that had ruined their crops and left the poor near starvation.
As Elijah approached the city of Zarephath, he saw a woman gathering sticks. She was picking up firewood with which to cook. Elijah approached her and asked for some water, and, when she turned to fetch some for him, Elijah asked her for some bread, too.
Then she told Elijah her desperate story. She was a widow; her husband had died; she had a young son. There were only she and her young son to fend for themselves. Life was always precarious for widows back then, but the sustained drought had brought this widow to the brink of starvation. She had no bread in her cupboard, only a handful of meal in a jar and a little olive oil in a jug. She told Elijah that she was gathering the sticks to build a fire so that she might cook a last meal for herself and her son, before they succumbed to hunger. The story she told was the most agonizing imaginable.
But listen to what Elijah told her. “Go and bake that bread cake. But when you have, give me the first piece. Then you and your son can eat what’s left.”
Can you imagine someone actually saying that? Not a good word, we would say. We would never take a widow’s last dollar. We would say, keep your dollar. Here, let us help you in your dire need.
Now imagine if you were that woman hearing Elijah’s harsh words. How would you have responded?
Would you have said, “Go away, crazy man. Can’t you see that there’s not even enough for my son and me? Don’t you know that we’re in the middle of a severe recession? There’s not enough for us and for you, too.”
Would you have said, “You don’t belong here, do you? You’re not a Phoenician. Aren’t you a Hebrew? You’re an illegal immigrant here in our country. Do you have any identification? Go back from where you’ve come, or I’ll call the authorities.”
Would you have said, “You have your own god, don’t you? Isn’t your god Yahweh? If you believe in your god, call upon him to help you if you’re hungry. Don’t bother me.”
Of course, what she didn’t know was that it was Yahweh who was sending Elijah to her. And Elijah wasn’t finished speaking to her. He said, “This is what Yahweh says: You will always have a supply of meal and of oil, as long as the famine continues. Your supply will never run out.”
What an unusual setting for a mighty display of faith!
But the woman took the word of this foreign prophet to be true. She took it by faith. She made a bread cake for Elijah and then one for herself and her son. And she waited for Elijah’s god to respond.
And according to the narrative, God provided for her food needs. From that point on, until the famine ended, she always had enough meal, and she always had enough oil.
You ask, “How could that be?” Many United Methodists have difficulty with miracles. One commentator has suggested that the woman’s more affluent neighbors heard of her radical generosity in the midst of her dire poverty and were so moved that they began to share their food with her, so that she always had enough to eat as long as the famine continued. Or perhaps it was just a miracle!
At any rate God honored the faith of this outsider, this Gentile, whose theology was all mixed up, but who trusted in the word of Elijah’s god, and who looked to the future with faith.
That’s what faith is. Faith is marching into the future trusting that God will be there for you, that God will supply your needs, each day, in God’s own way. Faith for God’s child is facing the future with optimism, rather than pessimism.
For some of us the future is a bit dark and murky right now.
The U.S. economy, is it really getting its footing? Or is it just wallowing around in the muck of contracted markets and continued unemployment? How long until our economy becomes healthy again? Can we face the future with hope?
And what about the threat of terrorism? What nefarious plans against Americans are being schemed this very minute behind closed doors? When will they try to strike again? Will they be successful?
And what about the dark danger to the environment from the oil spill in the Gulf? When will they get it under control? How much damage will it end up causing? And how long will it take the environment to recover?
Here close to home, what about the future of Bethany Church? I believe that United Methodists have the best transition system for pastors anywhere, and yet there are still uncertainties. Will those of you who are here today still be here three months from now? I hope so.
And then, on the personal front. There are members of our church who are out of work, filling out job application after application. When in the future will the right door open for them?
What about members who have elderly parents whom they worry about? What will the future bring for them? What about members who have children will begin new stages in their life in the fall? Young people going into middle school, or high school, or college. How will they cope with the challenges of a new educational setting?
What about those members who have health concerns for themselves or for their spouse? What challenges will the future bring? Will we be able to cope?
The future is dark and murky, to be sure. None of us are prophets. With what mental outlook shall we face the future? Shall we face the future with hopefulness? Or shall we face the future with fear and anxiety?
I am reminded of a young English clergyman of the 19th century. Although he experienced some degree of success in the parish, his work had left him exhausted and his emotional health was shattered. In a desperate search for rest and relaxation, he sailed to sun-drenched Italy. But in Sicily he contracted a severe fever and lay close to death. He was confined to his bed for three weeks. Homesick, weak, and worried he sailed back for England. But the ship ran into a week of calm, and the ship drifted aimlessly in the Mediterranean Sea.
It was in that setting that that young man struggled with his fears and found God’s victory. On June 16, 1833, alone in his cabin, he penned these words:
“Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom.
Lead thou me on.
The night is dark, and I am far from home.
Lead thou me on.
Keep thou my feet.
I do not ask to see the distant scene—
one step enough for me.”
The next year that poem was published in a magazine with the title: “Faith—Heavenly Leadings.”
The author’s name was John Henry Newman.
And regaining his faith in a God who was leading him on, Newman became a great leader in the church. Converting to Roman Catholicism, he died a cardinal in that church at the age of 89.
The key for Newman’s spiritual turnaround? When he was unable to see far into the future, he trusted that God was guiding his steps, one step at a time.
C.H. Mackintosh has written: “God never gives guidance for two steps at a time. I must take one step, and then I get light for the next.”
Another great light of 19th century England put into the mouth of one of his poetic creations his positive hopes for the future. His name was Robert Browning. At the age of 52 Browning wrote a poem in which he made the great medieval rabbi, Rabbi Ben Ezra, to speak. This is how the poem begins:
“Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
the last of life, for which the first was made.
Our times are in his hand, who saith,
‘A whole I planned; youth shows but half.
Trust God; see all, nor be afraid!’”
My friends, when we trust in the God who is there for our future…we’ll find that pony!