Wadhams United Church of Christ
2569 County Route 10, Wadhams, NY 12993
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Sermon by Steve Smith Order of Service
The Flooding Season
April 13, 2008
The deep snow pack from this winter’s unusually heavy snowfall is finally melting down and running off into streams, rivers, and lakes. If you combine it with a wet spring and occasional downpours, you’ve got an ideal recipe for floods. Glimpses of a TV screen yesterday showed me what I had already intuited: there were flood warnings and watches in effect for the vast majority of the viewing area. Some people, of course, like to get ahead of the curve and begin their problems before everyone else. That way they get more attention before the spotlight shifts in another direction.
Such was the case with my brother last week. Nobody in the area was talking about flooding, but he wasn’t satisfied to leave well enough alone. My parents were on their way back from Florida, and dad had informed me that the plan was to meet in Glens Falls for lunch out on Sunday, and then they were going to continue on home to Rouses Point. By Sunday afternoon, though, the plans had shifted a little bit. My brother was making noises about having had to stay up all night for three nights in a row, just because he had some water in the basement. “Water in the basement?” I wanted to say. “Everybody up here has water in the basement, for crying out loud. We’re still eating out, right?”
When we arrived for the family gathering, it looked like my brother was getting ready to have a garage sale. His wide open garage was packed out with furniture old and new, stacks of boxes, piles of clothing, and an odd assortment of stuff that you might find when someone is trying to get rid of their old stuff to make room for the new stuff. His sleep deprivation, however, seemed to be getting in the way of his appreciation for my clever and witty remarks about helping myself to his stuff while he was too tired to chase me. Meanwhile, there was a persistent and annoying thrumming sound that reminded me of a vacuum cleaner on overdrive.
It seems he and the rest of my family had been running themselves ragged to stay ahead of the flood waters engulfing the lower level of their beautiful home. They had finally been forced to move antique dressers, chairs, tables, and bed to higher ground, and the whining sound wasn’t my brother, but the shop-vacs they had been running continuously all weekend long. Their beautiful and carefully decorated guest quarters on the lowest level had been reduced to a shambles. The carpet had to be pulled up and piled together in a soggy mass in the middle of the room; the spongy pad beneath had absorbed heroic amounts of water, and had been pulled free from the places where the water was oozing and bubbling in.
Through sheer determination and dogged effort, they had managed to contain the flood, which showed no signs whatsoever of abating. Even more surprising, all of it had been done without the benefit of my superior wisdom in all matters, great or small. Once again, though, their sleep deprivation made them unresponsive or even hostile to my remarks when I thoughtfully suggested that things might have gone much smoother if only they had consulted me sooner. The last report I heard was that they had hired someone to bring in a backhoe, dig a deep hole with a trench just outside the house, and submerge a sump pump outside the house to try to keep some of the water from getting into the basement. I’m pretty sure they were just joking when they suggested I come down, so they could lower me into the hole to do some bailing.
While it might be the dramatic and traumatic images of floodwaters surging over roads, or inundating houses, or stranding people on the wrong side of the river that gets the media’s attention, it’s often the oozing, bubbling stuff slowly flooding our basements that disrupts our schedules and deprives us of sleep. In my brother’s case, this was literally true. For those of us with dry basements or no cellars at all, it’s also true at a symbolic or figurative level. I find that a great deal of my energy is taken up with mentally rehearsing catastrophic events or disturbing interchanges that never take place.
If my worry mode could make noise, it would no doubt sound like that persistent, annoying throbbing sound like a vacuum cleaner on overdrive. I sometimes feel like I’m running myself ragged, all the while dogged with this fearful notion that it’s all going to be for naught in the end, and that all I will have to show for my frantic efforts is a weary body and a bitter attitude. Sometimes, of course, the troubles are not imaginary, but painfully real. Finances stretched to the breaking point, a lingering illness or a physical challenge that promises to change the way we structure our days, a loved one suffering or facing tough times, all of these things have a way of making a shambles of our carefully plotted plans.
Before we know it, the creeping floodwaters have left our thoughts in a soggy pile in the middle of the floor, and while our faith may absorb heroic amounts of water, it can sometimes be pulled away to reveal the cracks and holes in a foundation we’ve always found secure. My brother and family had pulled the pad away to get at the trouble spots, and once identified, could focus the energy of three shop-vacs on the pesky puddles. Together, the three machines maintained an electric symphony of high-pitched drones. Then they had to be emptied every few hours, which is what had kept my brother and then the rest of my family running back and forth for hours on end.
They came up with a partial and temporary solution by attaching a hose to the back of one of the vacs, and pumping the water out into the street. Eventually, the fix will take more time and effort, not to mention money. So it is when hardships and cresting floods reveal the cracks and holes in a foundation of faith that has always stood us in good stead before. It’s the rising water that calls our attention to the fact that something needs fixing. And it’s usually only when we’re in over our heads that we get to thinking that maybe we need some help, if not some divine intervention.
The people being addressed by the prophet Isaiah had been in over their heads both literally and figuratively. Their sacred history had told them of the plight of their ancestors, who could only break free of Egypt’s oppression by finding a way through the Red Sea. They would only be able to enter the Promised Land by crossing over the river Jordan, and that at the peak of flood season. More recently, they had been brutally uprooted from that Land of Promise and forced to forge a great river on their way into bondage in another foreign land. Mind you, the ancient Israelites had no word in their vocabulary for a bridge, simply because such structures did not exist. The only way to get past a river was to go through it.
The prophet began these hopeful words not with a quantifier but with a promise. In other words, you won’t find any equivocation saying, “If you should ever happen to find yourself in a situation where you’re in over your head…” Rather, opening is clear and definitive: “When (or whenever) you pass through the deep waters…” You’ll notice that God is not promising an easy life or the carefree existence that television preachers seem to be fond of promising to the unsuspecting masses. No, this is a very real faith that has been tried and tested in the tumult and tragedy of a rough and brutal world.
The prophet is not offering us a magical thought process whereby we can wave our wand and make life fit the script we have devised for ourselves, and God is not offering to remake the world or the events around us more to our liking. Instead, God is promising to be God and offers the reassurance that no matter what happens to us, God will be right there with us in the midst of whatever is happening. As I mentioned earlier, it’s precisely in these flooding seasons of trial and difficulty that the cracks and holes in the foundation become painfully apparent.
These are the seasons when people find it most difficult to believe, and I have been among them when my life was flooded with pain or disappointment. All we have to do is stand on the bridge down below us to see and feel and sense the immense power of the floodwaters bursting over the dam. Still shots captured by camera and video clips beamed at our televisions give us a truncated view of the destruction and devastation such unbridled power can create. At a far more profound level, unbridled brutality and flooding rage can also wreak havoc on entire nations and people groups. A carefully constructed faith can be swept away in a moment under these kinds of circumstances, as our preconceived ideas about God end up as so much flotsam miles downstream.
How tragic it is when people of faith unleash their unholy hatred on a group that disagrees with them. History is rampant with bloody examples of such inhumanity. In the swirling vortex of incorporated evil or legitimized cruelty, ultimate values like love and justice are overtaken by a mob mentality and replaced with a mockery of everything that true spirituality is supposed to foster and nurture. Love is replaced by fear, and justice by tyranny. In the deepest, darkest moments of such agony, it looks and feels like God has abandoned us. In the deepest, darkest throes of Jesus’ ordeal on the cross, Jesus uttered the bleak words that many good people of faith have agonized over: My God, why have you abandoned me?
In identifying himself completely and totally as a victim of incorporated evil and legitimized cruelty, Jesus laid claim to heaven’s answer to humanity’s anguished cry: “It’s easy to say you will be with us when you are so far away, O God, safe from harm and alarm in the glories of heaven. How can you possibly know what it is like?” Now God can respond: I do know what it is like. Don’t be afraid. I am right there with you. In submitting himself to brutality, Jesus was lowered into the swirling flood waters of senseless bloodshed with the mocking voices of his detractors ringing in his ears: Go ahead, Savior! Start bailing! Save yourself!
His followers knew the bitter pain of having their leader snatched from them and made an example of. Alone, left to their own devices to try to make sense of it all, I believe they would have faltered and eventually failed. But because they continued to meet as a fledgling flock, forging community in the worst of times, they would soon climb the far shore as survivors, people far stronger than the shell-shocked group who had staggered into the chilling waters of a vanquished movement. So when life drags us into the chilling waters of financial failure, a faltering marriage, a suffering loved one, a shortened life expectancy, or a crippling disease, we are reminded that we need each other and we need God.
When there is no bridge in sight and the concept doesn’t seem to exist in God’s mind; when our worry mode is in overdrive over real or imagined catastrophes, or difficult and challenging relationships, or problems over which we have no control, we are painfully reminded that we need each other and we need God. But if we isolate ourselves to try to make sense of it all, if we rely entirely and only upon our own devices to make it through the chilling waters of crisis or disruption, we will run ourselves ragged and end up weary and embittered. But together, we can cobble together a way to make it through. Together, we can focus on the pesky puddles or the swamping tides and find a way through it. Together, even with the high-pitched drone of aching muscles and weary bodies, we can be the very love of God made real in the midst of the flooding seasons.
Order of Service April 13 , 2008 Back to Sermon
"NC" refers to The New Century Hymnal, The Pilgrim Press (1995)
Welcome, Announcements & Prayer Requests
A Candle for Peace NC #591 (vs. 1)
Call to Worship
Leader: Shepherd God, our needs bring us to your pasture. We come with our fears and doubts, and you promise to protect us.
People: We come with our hunger and thirst, and you promise to nourish our souls. We come with our hurts and wounds, and you anoint us with healing.
Leader: We come with our grief and sadness, and you wipe away our tears. We come with our joys and love, and you laugh with us and love us beyond anything we can imagine.
People: Shepherd God, we thank you for your care, for your guidance, and for your love.
Leader: As we worship this day, our hearts want to sing with the joy of being in your presence, all the days of our lives.
Hymn NC #31 All Things Bright and Beautiful
Responsive Prayer
Leader: Gentle Shepherd, some days we are as firm in our faith as the disciples at their finest hour, and sometimes we are like lost or stubborn sheep.
People: Even when we are uncertain about where this flock is headed, we want to believe that you are ahead of us, just beyond our gaze.
Leader: Thank you for your patience with us, God. When we panic easily, come to calm us. When we refuse to be pushed, gently lead us toward your future for us.
People: When we make decisions based on our fear, help us hear your whispered promise to be near. When we butt heads for no particular reason, help us to be patient with each other, reminding us that each of us belong to this flock.
Leader: In the light of your infinite grace and mercy, help us to see ourselves and each other as people who need your shepherding presence in our lives.
People: Help us to hear ourselves and each other as you hear us, and give us the ability to recognize the groans of pain and the cries of anguish.
Leader: Teach us to listen for your distinctive voice, that together we may follow you, that together we may journey through life with the support of this sacred community.
People: Teach us to love one another as you have loved us, that we might find strength for the journey.
Pastoral Prayer, Lords Prayer
Hymn NC #407 How Firm a Foundation
Psalm 69:1-3, 13-18, Isaiah 43:1-4, John 10:11-18
Sermon The Flooding Season
Offering, Doxology, Dedication
Hymn NC #451 Be Now My Vision
Benediction
Leader: As we leave this place, we remember that God wipes away every tear. We remember that Jesus leads us like a shepherd. We remember that the Holy Spirit empowers us with the possibilities of new life.
People: God of abundance, our cup overflows with your blessings. Take our gifts, take our service, take our very lives, and use them, that others might know the goodness and mercy you so freely give.
Leader: May the blessings of Almighty God be with you now and always.
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