Sermon

Deep-down Questions

I Kings 19: 1-15a        Luke 8: 26-39

When I was a child I used to think that my church, the Evangelical and Reformed Church, was a large denomination. When we merged with the Congregational Christian Church in 1957 I really thought our denomination was big and powerful. I often heard us referred to as a “mainline” church, as one of the “major” denominations.

I saw us as a powerful force for good! I thought people listened when the United Church of Christ spoke!

Over the years I have discovered that in some ways I was right and in other ways I was wrong. We are a powerful force for good and people sometimes listen when the United Church of Christ speaks. But what we are not is a big, powerful denomination. Our membership is slightly over one million. That compares with Southern Baptist Convention of 16.2 million, United Methodist of over 8 million, the Church of God in Christ of 5 ½ million, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in American of more than 5 million, the National Baptist Convention of 5 million, the Presbyterian Church USA of 3.4 million, the African Methodist Episcopal of 2 ½ million and several others in the range of 1 ½ to 2 million members. All in all, we are not the big and powerful denomination I sometimes picture us to be. In fact, there are 20 other denominations in the United States larger than the United Church of Christ. The Catholic Church reports a whopping 66.4 million members.

Today as our church gathers at General Synod and we celebrate the 50 th Anniversary of the United Church of Christ, it has given me pause to think about our size and our influence as a people of God in this part (or in this “room”) of the household of God. As a covenant people – that is, as a people bound together by a sacred trust and commitment – we are different than many of our brothers and sisters in other denominations. Nobody can make us do anything – each of our congregations is autonomous. But we are family. I often think of us as a family of grown brothers and sisters, each with our own families, but never-the-less committed to the whole family of this United Church of Christ.

When Elijah met God at Horeb, he was feeling scared and alone and small. He had taken on the prophets of Baal at Mt. Carmel and proved that the Lord indeed is God. Ahab had called Elijah “you troubler of Israel.” Elijah had demanded of the people, “How long will you limping between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him. If Baal is God, then follow him.”

But now, a short time later, Elijah has once more become timid and afraid and complains to God that Elijah’s own people, the Israelites, have forsaken God, have killed God’s prophets and now want to kill Elijah. Elijah had taken refuge in a cave.

God calls Elijah to come and stand before the entrance of the cave for the Lord is about to pass by. You just heard the story – a strong wind, an earthquake, a raging fire. But God was not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire. And then the sound of sheer silence. In the silence the voice of

God: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” After listening to Elijah complain God sent him back to carry on with the work God had called him to do.

That scripture has been rolling around in my mind all week. I kept thinking about how easy it is to hide in my own cave. Equally, how difficult it is to hear God’s voice amidst the cacophony of sounds in the world.

Then at noon one day, I ate lunch in a neighborhood bar and when I introduced myself, someone remarked, “Oh that is that little German Church.” “That little German Church.” I must admit the word “little” bothered me along with the implication that we only were one ethnic group.

Those words also made me afraid. Friday morning when I drove down Decatur Street, our church did indeed look very small and dwarfed by the housing complex across the street. As I sat in the office and looked out the window I sensed a little of Elijah’s trepidation and I wanted to complain to God about leaving us here, a small band of people in a little German Church, surrounded by a changing society that will also change us.

I could also hear the voices of grief; the remembrance of the way it used to be with gardens and markets and neighborhood shops. “And now,” as Elijah might cry out to God, “only we are left and it feels like they are after my life.” God would have none of it with Elijah. I discovered Friday morning that neither will God have much sympathy with me.

In praying later that afternoon, here is what my encounter with God felt like. I have always believed God called me into the ministry to serve wherever that call leads. Reluctantly I have even concluded that perhaps God called me to my last job as an Associate Conference Minister, not because I could do that job well, but rather so I could be fired from it. In being fired a number of churches have begun to question much about the systemic issues of the Conference and the lack of vision around what it means to be the people of God as churches of this Conference. It will, I believe, ultimately force us to look at such issues as stewardship of resources and what kind of servant leadership is needed if our churches are to grow in our spiritual life as well as grow numerically in numbers.

I feel equally strong that God called me here. I sensed it Friday morning when God nudged me out of the office chair and across the street to meet the people who are selling the new town houses. I introduced myself and asked them if I could leave some of my business cards in the event anyone looking at their town houses should ask a question about our church. Much to my surprise I found that some people have, indeed, asked about this church. And the office staff was happy to have my card and information to give their potential buyers about us.

Get out of your cave, Jim. Get out of your cave, church. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be swallowed up in grief at the death of things gone by. God is calling! God is sending us. God is our right hand.

As we go into this future together, I thought I would do something personal in this sermon. I want to share with you how I understand my calling here based on how I understand God’s pushing and nudging me over the years.

I have a few visuals to help. Each is a gift I received over the years in ministry and came with a charge to remember the persons giving me the gift. I have always kept them in my office wherever I have been called to serve. Each gift is a reminder of how easy it is to dismiss people who may not be like me or who may be out of sight.

When I was ordained I was given this cross and charged to remember this is a daily reminder of God’s great love for you, Jim, and for the whole world.

I received several books. One was a book from women, called Image Breaking, Image Building which is a handbook for creative worship with women of Christian tradition. Single people gave me a book with the title, The Life of One, about all of the various configurations of life as a single person, and the joys and sorrows of that life.

To remind me that not every one speaks English as I do, I was given a Spanish Bible and charged with finding ways to make the gospel known to all people. Persons with varying degrees of disabilities gave me this small wheel chair plaque and a reminder that they cannot participate in something if they cannot get in.

Native-Americans gave me a bundle of sage and a painting. They charged me with remembering that all creation is sacred and, in the painting reminding me that the elders have wisdom to pass on to the younger generations. (I invite you to come over to the office and see the painting.)

African-Americans gave me this simple piece of wood and card board with the words “We Shall Overcome.” They charged me to remember that not all of us started out equal and free and that the struggles for equality are on-going.

Some years later the men from Earl’s Place gave me the book by Dr. Seuss, Oh, The Places You’ll Go!, with this charge written in the front of the book: “We charge you to be a voice to those who are often unheard; to give visibility to those who often feel invisible; to help bridge the gap between homelessness and hopelessness; to help those who are suffering see that change is possible; to empower those who feel empowered to take a chance on their dreams; to show those who are unsure that a positive future is possible.”

Perhaps the most touching gift I have received is this red pillow. This entire pillow, its cover and it’s stuffing, are made out of things that have been discarded and thrown away. The pillow was given to me by an organization of senior citizens and they charged me to never discard or disregard or dismiss someone because of age. Now, over twenty-five years later, I understand even better that charge and what a tremendous gift to have this daily reminder of the value of life and the gifts we still bring as we age.

I was fortunate this week because I had just brought these gifts to the office. So when I read the scripture about Elijah’s fear and wanting to hide in his cave; when I looked out and saw the tremendous changes going on in the landscape and the community structure here; when I heard the pain and grief of some of you who are watching a much loved community undergo, what for you is a wrenching uprooting of home – I looked at these gifts from over the years. In praying for this church, for this community, for those who are leading our congregation, and for my own pastorate, I felt a sense of peace.

Perhaps God could not be found in the sudden winds of change when land prices skyrocketed and developers rushed in like a tornado. Perhaps God could not be found in the earthquake, the earth shattering digging into the ground and the movement of the tons of dirt to build new houses. Perhaps God could not be found in the billows of dust like fire as dirt and debris were loaded on trucks to be hauled away or as the old and our history was destroyed like a mighty fire roaring through.

But now, I want to listen. Now I hope you will listen. It was after the turmoil that Elijah heard the voice of God in the stillness and when he was feeling hopeless. Elijah had gone to stand in front of the cave and he was surveying all of the loss. Can you picture him? Standing and surveying loss and destruction. Thinking that life is over. Wondering how can he live now that everything is gone including his own people.

Then in that great silence, the voice of God. But, at least to me, it was not the comforting or pitying voice of God that I would want personally if I had suffered the losses Elijah was feeling. Rather the voice of God asks Elijah a question: What are you doing here, Elijah? And as Elijah begins to recount his faithfulness and his zeal for the Lord, God interrupts. “Elijah, get out of your cave, return to the wilderness, I have yet more work for you to do.”

The cave was no longer a hiding place. It was a launching pad.

I like our “little German Church” as the woman called it this past week. My love for it is because it is a “church.” It does not matter if it is little. Its ethnic origins are now part of our rich history. It is “the church” regardless of what words we place in front of it or after it.

It is the church. It is our launching pad as we go out to serve God and neighbor.

Amen.

Jim Bell

6/24/07