In the moment, you don’t even notice it. You think.
I’ve made this wonderfully compassionate comment. I just said something profound and
insightful. But then it comes, that
awful moment. You realize, your insight
wasn’t that profound. Your comment
wasn’t that compassionate. It might have been even painfully embarrassing, like
what I said when Sally, a member of the church I served in New York, shared
about her husband, John and his prostate.
In that congregation, you see, people shared prayer concerns
during worship. And that morning, Sally
shared how John was having his prostate removed. Now when Sally said prostate, I heard in my
mind, gall bladder. So, in my kindest
pastoral voice, I said. “Sally, don’t
worry, my mother had that surgery last year.
She is doing great.” Now Sally
did look puzzled. I did hear some
laughter.
But I still had no clue. Only after worship when someone came smiling
up to me and asked. “Your mother has a
prostate, really?” did I get it. I,
Kennedy had made a bonehead move.
Fortunately, everyone laughed, including my mom. But I haven’t always been so lucky. A few weeks ago, I made a comment after a
sermon on a particular provocative image of God. I implied that anyone who was unduly
disturbed by my talk could be guilty of idolatry. I know what I intended by the comment. But I still wish I hadn’t have said it. It didn’t come across so much as insightful or
profound as it did a bit smug and self- righteous.
And not because what I was saying wasn’t true. It was.
It just wasn’t true enough. Here’s
the truth. It doesn’t matter what word
you use for God. Every one of them can
become an idol. But when you realize
that, it opens you up. It opens you to
see everything, yourself, this world, and above all God as more wondrous and
amazing than you could have imagined.
How does that happen? In this
story, God shows you the way. Let’s
hear what God has to say.
How do you talk about God without making God into an
idol? In this story, God tells you. God shows you that no matter what word you
use for God, every word will fall short.
And when you know that, then who God is becomes bigger, grander, and
more beautiful than ever before.
Now, Elijah learns that very thing ironically after
God gives him his great moment of triumph that then quickly turns into his
greatest defeat. How did that happen? Let me give me some of the backstory. Elijah served as a prophet during a time
when a pagan god named Baal had become the god of the ruling elite. The king, Ahab, had married, Jezebel, a
daughter of the king of Phoenicia, who also served as a priest for the
Phoenician gods, Baal and Asherah. And
Jezebel brought with her these gods. And King Ahab bought into them hook, line,
and sinker. He built a temple for Baal smack
in the middle of the capital city and supported hundreds of priests to staff
it.
So, Elijah called for a public showdown between Baal
and the God of Israel. Here were the rules. The hundreds of prophets of Baal got an altar
to sacrifice on. Elijah got one
too. But neither could light the
altar. Only the Lord or Baal could do
that. Elijah even let the prophets of Baal
go first. But nothing they did
worked. They danced. They cut themselves.
They cried out. But no fire.
Elijah was loving it.
He taunted them. Hmm, perhaps
Baal went on a trip. May he fell
asleep. He even said. Perhaps he is deep in thought (as the
translators put it), but what he really said was; maybe he’s gone to the
bathroom. After hours, the priests had to give in.
Then it was Elijah’s turn. And Elijah had a flair for the
dramatic. He asked for water to be
poured all over the altar, enough to create a moat of water around it. Then he called on God, and boom God answered. God sent flames that destroyed everything,
not only the animals and the wood, but the water and the stones.
And when that happened, the audience of Israelites
that had been watching went nuts. And
Elijah took full advantage. He told
them. “Kill these prophets. Don’t let any of them escape.” And
they did.
But then, nothing else happened. Ahab still remained king. The temple to Baal still stood. And Elijah had to flee for his life, from a
very angry Queen Jezebel, who wanted revenge.
And after a long journey along which God gave Elijah
food and rest, he ended up at Horeb, the mountain of God a very depressed, a
very discouraged prophet. That’s where
we take up the story as Elijah tells his sad tale. Here I am, God, I’m the only one left.
But then God shows up, but not immediately. Before God shows up, God sends three
demonstrations of power, a mighty wind, an earthquake, and then fire. But in each one, God doesn’t show up. Only in the end, in a moment of sheer
silence does Elijah sense God’s presence.
What is God doing?
To get that, you need to go back to the story where it
all began. After, God sends the
fire. Elijah brings some fire of his
own. He orders the Israelites to
slaughter the prophets of Baal. It
seemed the right thing to do. Cut this
spiritual cancer out by cutting down its prophets. But is that what God wanted? From what happens next, the Bible implies, maybe,
not so much.
First, his prophet massacre doesn’t defeat
anything. It only incites more
resistance from King Ahab and his wife, Jezebel. Violence doesn’t defeat violence. It just creates more violence. But more importantly, Elijah doesn’t find
himself full of joy. Instead, he finds
himself collapsing into despair. He
falls into the deepest depression of his life.
And God is saying.
You are depressed, Elijah, because you don’t know who I am. You think that if something impressive or
amazing isn’t happening, then God can’t be there. You think God only shows up like that. But, God says, don’t limit me. Impressive things can be happening, and I am
not in them at all. On the other hand, even
in sheer silence, I will show up.
Basically, God is saying.
Elijah, don’t assume you know who I am or what I want. I am always bigger than you think.
And if Elijah doubted that. God then tells him that not only is he not the
only believer, but God has thousands of others, Elijah doesn’t have a clue
about. Then God gives stunning marching
orders. He tells Elijah not only to anoint a new king and prophet in Israel,
but to go and anoint a new king for a pagan country, Aram (what we now call
Syria). God is saying. I’m so big that I will even work through a
pagan king, Elijah.
You see. In
all of these orders, God is saying not only to Elijah but to everyone. I am always bigger than you think. That’s exactly why God shows up here in
silence. Not only will no act, no matter
how miraculous, tell you all that I am.
No word will either. When it comes to me, God says, words will
always fail.
Now, when you think about it, doesn’t that make sense? Don’t words fail in describing you? You could describe me in any number of ways, by
my name, Kennedy or with words like pastor, father, husband, bald guy,
Southerner, lover of fried chicken, the list could go on. But I don’t care how many words you came up
with or even I came up with, it still doesn’t fully describe me. It’s why I hate when people put labels on
other folks, and act as if that label defines them. No label defines anyone, not even a whole
bunch of labels. Each of you, each of
us, encompass far more than that.
Not if that’s true of you, how much more true is that
of God? No word, no matter how
powerful, can ever describe God, not even the word God. That’s why the first name, God gave to the
world through Moses will simply, this: I am who I am.
Over the last several weeks, we’ve spent some time
looking at images of God from the scripture. The Bible has described God as clothing, as a
smell, as fire, as a mother even. In
each of those images, you get a glimpse of God, but you definitely don’t get
the full picture. No words can do that, not even the central
words we will use in just a moment, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In fact, those words describe something that
essentially can’t be described, a God that exists as a Trinity, one God in
three persons, a living relationship that is God. If that befuddles your brain, it
should. If God
could be comprehended, then God wouldn’t be God. And the very difficulty of those words is
what makes them central.
And we do still need to use words. After all, no one
word may encompass you, but if someone wants to talk to you, they have to say
something, right? And words do matter. Some words for you describe you. Some words do not. And
not every word describes God. For
example, if you call God, Baal, then you and I are probably not seeing God in
the same way. And that’s important.
Still, no word, no matter how wonderful, describes God
fully. But that doesn’t mean that you
can’t know who God is. Obviously,
Elijah did. When God showed up, Elijah
recognized God’s presence. What did he
recognize? He recognized the God who in
his despair, didn’t condemn or judge him, but fed him and forgave him. He recognized the God who loved him. And you
have more than Elijah had. For God
showed up in an even more unexpected place than silence. God showed up in a human being. No, more than that, God who showed up on a cross,
where in Jesus he gave up everything to bring you home. And that’s what you need to know most, that
this God, who is beyond words, loves you in that same way. This God loves you with a love so infinite,
so beautiful that no words will ever adequately describe it. And what is more wondrous or amazing than
that?
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