Wadhams United Church of Christ
2569 County Route 10, Wadhams, NY 12993
WadhamsUCC home Other sermons
Sermon by Steve Smith
February 15 , 2009
I had planned on preaching a hilarious, heartwarming sermon on love today, in keeping with the Valentine’s Day theme. I’m pretty sure it would have been one of my more memorable sermons, worthy of publication in “The World’s Best Sermons of 2009.” I ran into a few minor glitches along the way, however. The hilarious part got muddled up with my efforts to be more funny than I’ve ever been before, and the heartwarming section seemed to be lacking any sentimental attachment. After several false starts, I had less than a page done by suppertime last night. Just before 5:00 last night, with a huge sigh that some of you might have heard behind your closed doors 30 or 40 miles to the north of Ticonderoga, I finally abandoned my grandiose Valentine scheme with the reassuring thought that I might have become too difficult to live with if I had been able to preach that wonderful message.
Instead, I had to fall back on a theme that has been occupying my thoughts for a few weeks now, one which I used in two different settings just a few days ago. I’ll tell you more about that as my thoughts unfold, but first let me set the stage for my theme. A couple of weeks ago, I went outside to go to work on one of those bitterly cold mornings we had in the middle of a cold snap. It was bright and sunny, but the car windows were frosted over, and I gave them a quick scrape so I could bundle myself into the warming car. A few miles from home, I was a bit surprised to see what looked like a fog bank just to the north of me.
I was even more surprised when I rounded a curve and found myself swallowed up in the dense, low-lying cloud. “It’s not supposed to be foggy this time of year,” I said to myself, as I slowed down to negotiate hills, curves, and a quickly approaching stop sign. I was a little unsettled when I went to make my first turn, because it’s the road that all the logging trucks use going into or out of the paper mill. I managed that turn alright, but the next one was a different story. By this point, the fog was so thick that I could barely make out the lines in the road, let alone be able to see any oncoming traffic.
I started to pull out, but my brain had registered something off the unscraped side view mirror beyond the partially scraped window. I quickly pulled onto the shoulder, narrowly avoiding the car that had come bolting out of the haze. I did some deep breathing to calm myself, and started to ease the car out into the traffic lane, when the same exact thing happened: my brain registered faint and blurry movement to my side, and I cranked the wheel to get out of the way, and was treated to a blaring horn from the car that didn’t have its headlights on. Fortunately, I was able to avoid any further incidents and drove out of the fog a few miles later.
For me, the fog has become a metaphor or symbol for the times in life when life gets swallowed up in chaotic or stressful events. Let me draw some parallels and see if you agree. A few days ago, I was driving up to Keene Valley for a morning meeting, and because of the thaw we were enjoying at the time, there was once again some fog to contend with. One thing I noticed about the fog is that it tended to hover over stretches of open water. So driving up through valleys that funneled the water downward into newly opened streams, there was more fog hovering above the open stretches where the water was rushing freely between icy patches.
The same was true of the lakes I passed on my way between Ticonderoga and Schroon Lake. Where the ice had melted or where the water had pooled on top of the ice, the fog was swirling in a misty haze. The same has been true during periods of my life when some change in circumstances has led to something of an emotional meltdown, and it seems like my life is being pulled downward toward a tumultuous mix of thoughts and feelings. A mental and emotional fog sets in, and hovers over that swirling haze of open and raw emotion. Have you ever had something like that happen to you?
One of the unsettling features of a dense fog is that it obliterates our sense of direction by masking or blurring the landmarks that we’re used to using to tell us where we are or which direction we’re heading. The hills, or houses, or intersections, or familiar features of our surroundings are lost in the grey soup that gives everything the same bland appearance. It’s easy to get lost or disoriented in a fog. In a similar vein, when life plunges us into pockets of fog, our thought process can be so preoccupied with what has happened or is happening that we feel lost and disoriented. The emotions are so thoroughly dense that even our closest relationships feel unfamiliar and indistinct.
So the things and people who are closest to us can be veiled to our hearts and minds, as we struggle to find our way through a stretch of life that takes on an alien quality. There is one stretch on the trip into Schroon Lake that I particularly like because this long lake to the right is nestled into the valley, and a mountain range soars into the sky at the head of the lake. It never fails to inspire me. On this trip a few days ago, however, I couldn’t see the lake, the valley, or the mountain range: all of it had been swallowed up in the gloomy gray stuff that was clinging to everything, including my mood. Likewise, the distant landscape of our lives can be temporarily lost to our view when we are going through transitions and changes.
We may wonder what our purpose in life is going to be. We may agonize over unanswerable questions about God’s presence in the midst of difficult times. That which used to inspire us, or comfort us, or help us cope with stress, may feel useless or impotent in trying moments. Discouragement and disappointment seem to cling to every thought we have, as the dense atmosphere of pessimism wants to keep us lying low. Something else I’ve noticed about fog is that it seems to suck the light out of the air. It doesn’t matter whether I put my headlights on high beam or low; I still can’t see any better. Other drivers may be able to see me better, but I can’t see them unless they have their headlights on. The same seems to be true when our mental and emotional fogs settle over us: the light gets sucked right out of our thoughts and feelings. People may offer kindness and love, but the mind barely seems to register it, and the light that is intended in their gestures mysteriously disappears into the murky gloom.
As I mentioned early on, I used the metaphor of fog in two different situations last week. In one situation, I was sitting with the family of someone who was dying. Their loved one has suffered from Alzheimer’s for years, and from what I know of this terrible disease, it’s very much like spending every waking moment of your life in a fog that never burns off. Thoughts and memories become so clouded as to be completely obscured to the person who constantly feels lost and disoriented. The most familiar faces and places are shrouded to their minds, as they try to figure out where they are and who these people are that are all around them.
As we sat and reminisced over this person’s life, I shared the imagery of the fog with him and with his family, and suggested that he would soon be getting behind the wheel of his car again and driving out of the fog. “He will soon see clearly again,” I told them, “more clearly than he has in years. He will soon recognize the people gathered to welcome him home, and that’s going to be some party.” It wasn’t too much later that he rounded a curve and broke out of the fog that had been clinging to him for several years.
In the other situation, I led a community memorial service for the towns of Keene and Keene Valley, which have seen more than their share of tragic deaths of young men this past year. I likened their grief to the dense fog that often settles over their valley, pointing out that the fog tends to hover over the open waters, the open wounds of our grief, as our raw emotions roil in turmoil. I talked about the loss of perspective and the blurring of familiar paths of coping and healing, and together we lit candles to help us find our way through the dark haze that clings so close and weighs us down.
In both cases, the fog seemed to provide an apt description of our inner worlds when life plunges us into difficult circumstances. While it’s all fine and good to have a descriptive analogy for those foggy times in life, the analogy doesn’t do us much good if we leave here with the gloom clinging wetly to our thoughts and feelings. The metaphor seemed to fit neatly into the life experience of those I was with that day. But what about us? The sun is shining brightly this morning, and for many of us those dark periods of discouragement and disappointment are nothing more than murky memories. Are there any lessons from the fog that we can bring home with us today?
Whether we’re in the midst of a steady season of fog or not, the chances are real good that we know someone who is. Here are some thoughts on dealing with the fog. One of them is to slow down. Most people are clever enough to slow down when they’re driving through the fog, because we don’t have enough time to react to obstacles or hazards if we try to keep our speed up. So we give ourselves or those we love the permission to take a slower pace as they deal with a life that has become more complicated and more demanding. More than that, we can help take some of that load off of their shoulders by offering to pick up groceries, run some errands for them, or bring them a meal. A friendly face in a disorienting time goes a long way in reducing the stress level.
Another way to deal with the fog is to turn our lights on and make note of any other lights we see around us. One of the ways Betty and I deal with the gloom of the winter season is to put decorative lights up in the living room and leave them up until spring’s long-awaited arrival. When we’re driving through fog, headlights and taillights keep us aware of the traffic around us. When we’re navigating emotional and mental fog, seeing the light of kind and thoughtful gestures reminds us that we’re not alone, and that in fact there are people who have gone out of their way to provide supportive care.
When the distant landscapes of our lives are blurred and our familiar ways of coping are obscured or rendered useless, it’s important to remind ourselves or to remind others that we are not alone in the soupy mess. When others have drawn close to offer love during my foggy spells, they became for me the flesh and blood reality of God’s love seeking me out in my discouragement and disappointment. While we might want God to step in and rescue us or our loved ones; while we might pray that God would make all our problems go away and make everything right again, we’re reminded that we’re not home yet, and we don’t yet live in that perfect world.
In the meantime, we take note of the light and love that God sends our way when the fog swallows us up, and when the fog clears, we think back on what it was that helped us through those times so that we can offer that help to someone else. In the meantime, we slow down when we can’t see, and we keep our eyes open for someone else whose life has slowed to a crawl because of difficult circumstances, and look for ways to give back to God by giving our love away to someone else in need. In the meantime, we sometimes let go of our dreams and fantasies so we can live more fully and more creatively in the moment we have been given.
Order of Service
February 15, 2009
Welcome, Announcements, Joys & Concerns
A Prayer for Peace NC #575 (vs. 1 & 6)
Opening Prayer
Leader: God of health and wholeness, embrace us, even in our brokenness.
People: God of ever flowing grace, wash over us with your mercy. Let your loving presence flow through our hearts and minds.
Leader: Cleanse our ears, that we may hear you plainly.
People: Cleanse our hearts, that we may love you fully.
Leader: Cleanse our lives, that we may walk with joy and sing your praises.
People: Overwhelm us with floods of love. Cleanse us and make us new.
Leader: Open our hearts to the fullness of your grace. Heal us of our resistance to finding rest in your presence, of all that prevents us from feeling your loving touch.
Hymn NC #471 What a Fellowship
Responsive Prayer
Leader: Author of love, because love is patient…
People: Help me to be slow to judge, but quick to listen; hesitant to criticize, but eager to encourage.
Leader: Author of kindness, because love is kind…
People: Help my words to be gentle & my actions to be thoughtful. Let me be a channel of peace.
Leader: Source of grace, because love is not proud…
People: Help me have a heart that is humble and sees the good in others.
Leader: Source of sacrificial love, because love is not rude or self-seeking…
People: Help me to speak words that are easy on the ear and healing to the heart.
Leader: Giver of forgiveness, because love is not easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs…
People: Help me to forgive others as you have forgiven me. Help me release my grudges so I am free to love.
Leader: Giver of refuge, because love always protects and always trusts…
People: Help me to be a refuge for those around me. When the world outside is cold, may my heart be warm.
Leader: Source of steadfast love, because love always perseveres…
People: Help my heart beat ever stronger with love, and may that love bring healing to burdened hearts.
Pastoral Prayer, Lord’s Prayer
Hymn NC #459 Come O Fount
Psalm 30, Deuteronomy 5:6-21, Colossians 3:5-17
Sermon Lessons from the Fog
Offering, Doxology, Dedication
Hymn NC #393 Blessed Be the Tie That Binds
Benediction (Based on Isaiah 40)
Leader: As Christ has given grace to us, so now we are invited to share God’s grace with others.
People: Let us open our hearts and our lives, that others may know the healing power of God’s love.
WadhamsUCC home Other sermons by Steve
Webmaster: Bob Carroll Hosted by Westport Marina Updated 1 Mar . 2009