NOT A FIX-IT GOD

I Kings 19:3-4, 8-15
Philippians 2:1-13

St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

September 28, 2008

I know what kind of God I want… a strong God, who is there for me when I ask for help. I want a God who answers my prayers in a clear and powerful way… no subtleties please; especially when the car swerves, when the kids are in danger, when the x-rays are being taken. I want a fix-it God, who does not respond with silence, or some hypothetical “No!” I want a God who is running the show, and who, aside from an occasional reprimand, is on my side; who rewards the good guys (which hopefully includes me and mine) and punishes the bad, and, please, does so on schedule. I want a God is not averse to performing the occasional miracle when required… a few plagues for my enemies, and the delivery of daily manna for me when I am in particular need.

Yes, that’s what I want… but it’s not what I get. I am reminded of that short note an eight year old sent off to God, saying, “How come you don’t perform any miracles nowadays, like you used to back in the Bible.” Exactly, I say; could have penned the letter myself; sums up how I have felt on a number of painful occasions. I’ve been in too many hospital rooms where fervent prayers go unanswered; I’ve walked with too many broken hearts; seen too much grief and suffering. What we want isn’t what we get.

And my rational self understands this.  I know that this hope for a fix-it God is wide open to Freudian critique… a projection of our childhood parental figures who always kept us safe; an omnipotent, omniscient father/mother hovering in the skies, reassuring me that I will be okay. And I know that many people have walked away from faith, no longer believing in this vision of God, but seeing or hearing no alternative. Like the kid who comes home from the Mall one December afternoon, announcing to his parents, “I’ve just discovered that Santa Claus is a fake, a real hoax; so I tell you, I’m going to be checking out this Jesus stuff real carefully.”

What I would like to suggest this morning… after having checked out the Jesus stuff with some care, is that there is an alternative way of understanding who God is, or more particularly, how God acts in our lives and in the world. Not a fix-it God… something else, something more exciting and scary.

Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved the conclusion of the Elijah story, the one that we just heard in triplicate… as a story with the children; as a Scripture lesson; and as a piece of music by Mendelssohn… wasn’t our Vocal Ensemble amazing?!! So there’s Elijah, in desperate need to connect with a powerful God; Elijah is in big trouble; he needs big-time support. So there he is, waiting at the entrance of his little cave – ready to duck for cover, I suspect, if the going gets tough. And that’s when the pyrotechnics go off full blast, with torando, fire and earthquake shaking the foundations of the mountain – just the kind of strength that Elijah could use! Just the kind of God you want on your side in tough times! But we are told, very quietly and succinctly – “God was not in the wind, the fire, the earthquake.” You want a big show? A strong, powerful God? Well, you’re out of luck! Instead…there is this whisper… the “sheer sound of silence” says our translation; something that drifts on the wind, like the touch of a down feather… “a light, faint, murmuring, tiny sound” say other translations; a “still small voice” says the King James Version. The whispering God… something different; something unexpected.

It is in the person of Jesus that I best catch a glimpse of this still small-voiced God, this whisper of divinity We claim that in Jesus we have a revelation of who God is, of how God is; that he is the embodiment of Holiness in our world; that if you want to see the face of God… then take a look at Jesus.

With that in mind, let me draw your attention to today’s reading from the 2nd chapter of Philippians. Paul is writing to this long ago Christian community – the first church to be established in Europe, sharing his love for them, and offering advice and challenge, inviting them to see Christ as both their example – how to live a life of love --and as the source of power which would enable them to live the Jesus way.. What interested me this past week, however, was Paul’s inclusion in his letter of what Biblical scholars suggest is an early Christian hymn, which actually predated Paul’s composition. An early Christian hymn… of course; they must have loved singing, just like us. I sometimes find myself wondering what it might have sounded like – I mean we just finished that Ralph Vaughn Williams tune, singing the hymn. With the organ going full blast, we were having a good time; it felt pretty powerful in fact. Which is strange, because in some ways that’s a contradiction of what the words actually say… at least at the beginning. Do you remember? –

[Christ Jesus]

though he was in the form of God

did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form, he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.

When you listen carefully, you can hear a profound proclamation in this verses of the God who gives up power. When we see God in and through Jesus, if that’s really what we believe, then we get is a vulnerable whisper, a human, a slave, a servant, humble… and ready to encounter death. We get the Incarnation… a fancy church doctrinal word… God coming to us, living with us… in the flesh. Not powerful in the way we would like to use that word; not able to fix-it, precisely because God has chosen to take a risk, to become vulnerable, weak, so as to create an open space, where we are free to encounter this Jesus-shaped God.

He arrives as a baby. Now that’s talking flesh – vulnerability. Once you strip away the sentimentality of Christmas, and the pressures to conform and consume – what you have is a 6 pounder, arriving in a stable, redolent of the smell of manure, an incense which only gets richer with arrival of the shepherds. Then of course come the Roman soldiers, and the story ends with Jesus hustling down to Egypt as a refugee.

If you spend much time enjoying early Christian art – not everybody’s passion, I realize; not mine either, I must confess – you will discover that artists really enjoyed portraying Jesus at Mary’s breast, suckling away. Oh they added lots of finery, some crowns or haloes, but what you still had was a baby nuzzling away at a beautiful breast. I think we Protestants lose some fine reminders of the sheer earthiness of Christianity when we ignore Mary – , the human, nursing woman, a mother feeding the revelation of God.

Well, maybe you’ll say, those birth stories were just a later ad on to the gospels, but stay with me… and remember those three years of Jesus’ ministry… and the number of times we hear about Jesus being tired, cranky, hungry, heartbroken, frightened, near despair. This is not a fix-it God. Oh, I know, there are the miracles… but there really aren’t that many of them when it comes right down to it: one water to wine; one calming of the storm; one walking on water; one, maybe two feedings; three resuscitations from the dead, one per year; and a handful of healings…. bent over woman, leper, demoniac, Peter’s mother-in-law. If Jesus were trying to make it as a faith healer, he would have gone broke pretty early on.

Now, I’m not being facetious… but rather suggesting that we misunderstand the point of the miracles if we try and use them as proof that Jesus really did have power, I mean, supernatural power, which meant that he really must be God’s representative. I think the miracles were like parables, opportunities to catch a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. I don’t think you can have the Jesus of the Gospels and a strong, powerful, fix-it God at the same time.

But hold on, I’m not saying that Jesus has no power…. It’s just that it is expressed in a different way, maybe in what can be called the weakness of God. Let me explain myself. I think there are three ways that we can name the kind of power that God embodies in this universe, three ways that Jesus reveals a different understanding of the promises of the Holy.

First… God’s power is that of support, presence, upholding each and every one of us, no matter what is happening in the world around us. This is not a new thought; it’s the stuff of the 23rd Psalm, for instance -- “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou are with me, thy rod and thy staff, they support me.”… not that there isn’t a valley and shadows and evil and death. What changes in the equation is your fear… you can let it go. As Isaiah proclaims, “When you walk through the waters they shall not overwhelm, and the fire will not consume you.”

You should count the number of times that Jesus of the gospels says, “Fear not.” Or, “Be not afraid.” And of course, there is the cross at the end of it all – “obedient unto death, even death on a cross.” What kind of a God is that? If you don’t end up avoiding crucifixions, what’s it all about? Well, the promise is still presence –“I will be with you.” says God; “and I have experienced forsakenness, pain, desolation; and I tell you that there is nothing that can separate you from my love.”

A story… from Eli Wiesel, in his account of life and death in Auschwitz, in his novel, Night. He tells the story of a twelve year old boy who is to be punished for some small infraction of the Nazi rules. A gallows is built, and when all is ready, ; the rest of the prisoners are dragged frm their huts, and forced to stand in long rows in the muddy field, to watch the young boy executed, the cold wind blowing. Because the lad was so light, his neck did not break when pushed over the edge; and so he slowly choked to death, turning in the wind while his companions watched. Wiesel writes of hearing a voice behind him crying softly, “Where is God?” At that moment Wiesel heard himself saying just as softly, “There; there on the gallows; there is God.” … Which could be read two ways, couldn’t it. God now officially dead; it’s finished. Or God still present, even in the greatest horror, the darkest moment; God suffering with us.

So, the power of God in presence, within, below, above, behind, in front. Then, second, the power of God as invitation -- God in every situation, inviting us into a new future, in every choice, calling us to embrace the path that leads to life, rich life for ourselves and for our neighbours. This is the still small voice… not the tornado, fire and earthquake, but the whisper, the faint murmuring invitation. Over and over you find Jesus turning to people he encountered and extending the invitation: “Follow me.” Follow me and find new direction and meaning for life, a rich and deep purpose; join your energy with the vision of God, the pearl of great price… peace, justice, compassion, joy, beauty, harmony. No guarantees, but oh, what an invitation. No escape from difficulty, challenge and suffering… but what a life.

A poem by the German theologian… you’ve heard it before, but listen again:

He needs you

that’s all there is to it.

without you he’s left hanging

goes up in dachau’s smoke

is sugar and spice in the baker’s hands

gets revalued in the next stock market crash

he’s consumed and blown away

used up

without you.

Help him.

that’s what faith is

he can’t bring it about

his kingdom

couldn’t then couldn’t later can’t now

not at any rate without you

and that is his irresistible appeal.

The appeal of this God… join with me; call… invitation… possibility… irresistible.

Let me just expand a little on this notion of invitation… a quick theological riff, if you will. Process theology suggests that God is present in every moment, with every atom; God is lure, urging each moment into becoming the richest moment of life possible. No, this is not Intelligent Design, because there is always freedom. Life-enhancing or death-encouraging choices. With God weighing in, always and lovingly, choose life. I know that seems to make sense only at the level of consciousness, but what if, in a way, all creation was in some sense free? That there was choice? God truly does not know where the universe will; that’s the risk God took. But God will never stop being fully present, inviting all creation into the path of abundant life. Which seems to me pretty close to the essence of love… not romance, but that deep valuing of the other, that wants nothing less than the best, the most just and joyous for the loved on, with maximum freedom, no coercion, but always a dream that has the power to draw us into a new future.

Enough… it’s sounding too much like a sermon. So… the power of God as presence and support; the power of God as invitation, lure, the energy of the dream. And thirdly… thirdly… the power of the resurrection. I want to be careful here… it would be too easy to suddenly slip back into concocting a fix-it God theology … as in, it can’t happen here, but it’s gonna happen when you die; the good guys will arrive in heaven; and the bad ones will burn. But that doesn’t really seem to be the way the resurrection of Jesus gets portrayed in the Gospels. He’s here; he’s not here; people don’t recognize him, then suddenly, they do… Resurrection stories are elusive, suggestive; but they carry at their core the proclamation of power that travels into, through and beyond death. W we have no idea of what that will look like, but for reassurance and perhaps convenience, we put our metaphors together.

But at the centre of the resurrection stands a promise… nothing in all creation, not even death, can separate us from the ongoing love of God. Many years ago a friend of mine nursed her mother as she was dying a hard and ugly death, ravaged by colon cancer. A lot of pain, and blood; a lot of tears. When her mother was gone, my friend shared how difficult it was to resurrect the memories of the years before, the laughter and good times, for always at the front of her mind were these last mental snapshots; the ones that hurt so much. Then came the dream…in the middle of the night, a face, a voice… hard to know quite what, but a clear conviction that woke my friend bolt upright from a deep sleep…absolute clear and certain that she had heard her mother saying, “Don’t worry about me; I’m okay.” My friend is not “religious”, churched; perhaps spiritual, in a BC sort of way; what I mean, she’s not the kind of person who has a lot of dreams. But this one… this one changed her life and opened new doors.

Not a fix-it God, perhaps; but such power; such grace. How does the United Church creed say it? –

In life, in death, in life beyond death,

we are not alone.

Thanks be to God.