Standing against the Storms of Hate

8-13-17

Grace to you and peace from God our father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ. Amen.

St. Paul Lutheran Church in Beachville NJ – which is about 45 minutes from where I used to live - has a beautiful sanctuary that is shaped like an upside-down boat. Actually, there are a lot of churches around the country that have sanctuaries that look like upside-down boats, inspired by ships such as the ones my ancestors took to reach America as immigrants from central and Northern Europe. Take a moment and look up… doesn’t our sanctuary remind you of being underneath an upturned boat?

Three years ago at St. Paul in Beachville, I was hanging out with sixty Lutheran youth from the Nebraska Synod who were in NJ on a mission trip. They drove two straight days cross-country – one way - through East Coast traffic to spend 3 days in New Jersey - to literally flood the Jersey shore with their time and presence. They arrived to help with the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, still very much present even two years had passed. They their days spent clearing logs at a Lutheran Camp in North Jersey, and canvassing entire neighborhoods to find out their needs, all in the in the hot July sun.

These young people got out of their comfortable little Nebraska boats about as far as humanly possible. Jesus said, “Come,” and they responded. In fact, their pastors who I met that week I ran into again this past week at the clergy event in Georgia.

Now, it’s been almost five years since Hurricane Sandy. But I don’t think I need to tell you that there are people who are suffering still, in different ways. Five years out, it just might be harder to see. It’s easy to spot a collapsed house. But it is harder to recover an interrupted life.

There are plenty of other storms that have hit all of us in the meantime. These storms might not show any external damage. But we can feel the devastation all the same. These storms damage the heart: The hurricane-force winds of shame and hopelessness that knock you down, all the while shouting in your ears – you are not enough.

Wouldn’t it great if our little community here in this little boat would be a haven from all the terribly frightening storms raging in the world, and raging in our own hearts? Wouldn’t it be great if there was “Check your Storms at the Door” or a “No Storms Allowed” sign somewhere out in the parking lot?

While this place IS a safe space for us to gather, the storms are still very present here with us, even on this warm summer morning. Being Jesus’s own disciples, and following orders from Jesus’ own lips did not stop the storm for Peter and the rest of the disciples as they battled their own storm that day.

But the mighty winds and waves DID not and COULD not prevent Jesus from coming to their aid. Our storms CANNOT and WILL NOT prevent Jesus from coming to us, or from getting into our boat with us.

Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton preached on the last day of our time together of the ELCA Rostered Leaders Gathering in Atlanta. Pastors and Deacons from all over the country from all different kinds of contexts gathered for connection and renewal. Bishop Eaton reminded us that human beings are not meant to walk on water. That part was completely Peter’s idea, she said. Just like when we try to take some things into our own hands that should stay in God’s. 

Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton

But when it turned out to be too much for Peter, Jesus has Peter’s back. Jesus doesn’t say he had little faith because Peter fails at something that he shouldn’t actually be able to do in the first place. Jesus is reminding Peter of something that he forgot, something that we all forget – Jesus says instead, “I’ve got you.”

And then, Jesus climbed INTO the boat. And Jesus climbs into the boats we find ourselves in too. He climbs into our tiny boats WITH us, through all the storms, and it is only then that the storms cease.

Rachel Held Evans, a Christian writer and speaker who also spoke last week at the Rostered Leaders Gathering, reminded us that God has already given us everything we need – word, sacraments, the Holy Spirit, and each other. And we have a God who walks through storms. We have a God who jumps into boats with us. We have a God who jumps OUT OF TOMBS… because "our God knows the way out of the grave." (Rachel Held Evans)

Our upturned boat sanctuary here can remind us that we are all in this boat together. But also, it is not up to us to keep this boat from sinking in the storms we find ourselves in. It is NOT up to us to work up the courage to jump out and chase after the next thing that might save us from feeling like we’re sinking.

You know what else looks like a boat, besides our sanctuary here? Our upturned hands, open and ready to receive Christ’s body. Week after week, month after month, year after year, through all the different kind of storms that life throws at us – Jesus still comes to us. Whether we are ready to jump out of the boat or clutching the railings for dear life, Jesus comes to us. In the breaking of the bread and the sharing of wine, Jesus comes to us. When we come to the table, with hands open, God gives us everything that we will ever need to face whatever storm comes our way.

Jesus gives us what we need for the storms that rage within us. And Jesus also gives us what we need to stand firm against the storms that are raging all around us too. Storms that come with fearing and hating those we don’t think belong in our boat – people who are different from us. People who are of a different religion, a different race, speak a different language, are of a different sexual orientation, or of a different gender or gender expression. We don’t see that we have all been created by God, beautiful in diversity, but equally loved. We don’t see that we are all in the same boat together, one body of Christ, members of one big family of God. We don’t see that our words - and our silences - do damage to other members of the body of Christ.

That storm seems so powerful, so overwhelming, and we seem to be so small and powerless to stand up against it, much less do anything to change it. Why rock the boat for a storm that we personally, a congregation in Pennsylvania from a mostly white denomination, might not even feel the effects of? Why stick our necks out about something that is happening in Charlottesville, Virginia? Or Charleston, North Carolina? Or Selma and Montgomery, Alabama, or Little Rock, Arkansas?

There is a storm that happened yesterday that will leave it’s mark just as clearly on this country as any hurricane. White supremacists and members of the KKK descended on Charlottesville, Virginia from all over the country on Saturday, and clergy from across the region and beyond gathered in protest. The night before, at St. Paul Memorial Church just outside of the University of Virginia campus, a torch-bearing mob surrounded the church during the evening church service as clergy and other people inside prayed for strength to stand for God’s light and justice and truth, to fight against some people’s opinions that other people are not enough.

The disciples were terrified of the storm, and Peter was terrified of sinking into the turbulent waters, Elijah in our first reading was terrified that God had abandoned him, and we also may be terrified of what will come next on the news, and what can we possibly do about it.

Timely words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s are written inside of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta Georgia, where he was pastor for a time. The words are from Dr. King’s biography. He writes: “..It seemed as though I could hear the quiet assurance of an inner voice saying ‘Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness, stand up for justice, stand up for truth. And Lo, I will be with you, even to the end of the world.”  Tragically, these words could have been written yesterday.

Some storms must be faced again and again, it seems. But as God’s people, we have been called to never tire for standing for what is right, even in the face of such voracious storms. Now, even in this place, Jesus says to us, his beloved church - “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you fall. Now stand, Family of God. Stand up for justice. Stand up for righteousness. Stand up for truth. For I will be with you. Always.”

As the man for whom Martin Luther King Jr. is named after spoke nearly 500 hundred years ago – “here I stand, I can do no other. God help me.”

Well, Family of God… God will… and God DOES. Amen.