To listen to the sermon from the 9:00 am service click here.
To listen to the sermon from the 10:45 am service click here. (Text below.)
St. Charles Episcopal Church - Saint Charles, IL
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 14 RCL – Year C
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Isaiah 1:1, 10-20 – Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24 – Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16 – Luke 12:32-40
Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
Last week Margo invited you to ponder your life and examine what it is that you truly value. This week I’d like to take you on a little journey; a journey of faith; a journey to heaven. I’m bringing you on this journey because our scriptures this morning are all about Faith, and I think there’s no better way to look at faith than through the metaphor of journey. OK, it may just be that since I am just back from a drive to Maine and back I am still looking for a way to bring meaning to over 40 hours behind the wheel, but work with me here!
Faith is often described in the Bible in terms of journey. The Old Testament is full of journeys; Adam and Eve leaving the garden, Noah’s flood cruise, Abram being called to journey from his home, to a land that would be given to him, Joseph’s journey to Egypt, the Exodus journey back to the promised land, and the exile to Babylon, just to name a few. The New Testament gives us Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem and Paul’s many missionary journeys to Asia Minor, Greece and Rome.
Last week, Margo opened her sermon talking about the stuff that surrounds her life, and our lives as well, and the danger that comes with our “stuff” security blankets. As I am sure you can recall I often speak about using backpacking as a great metaphor for sorting the stuff in your life. Well, with all the stark beauty of Maine still fresh in my mind, the blue water and gnarled trees clinging to craggy rocks, I found myself remembering past trips to Isle Royale. Bev and I have been there backpacking many times in the past, dragging a High School Youth Group around the island in search faith and community. As I pondered the lessons for this week images of the island kept floating up in my thoughts. At first I thought it was just me distracted by daydreaming, but then I realized it might be something more and so I’ve decided to bring you all along.
This morning I am going to take you from this humble church on an imaginary trip to an island you have probably never visited before. It is a place of wild beauty, a place far away from the pressures and distractions of everyday life, a place of peace.
On the way we will be learning about faith.
*
The first thing to know about our trip is that we will be backpacking. What that means is that everything we need must be carried on our backs from camp to camp.
Food, shelter, clothing....everything. Packing for a backpacking trip involves a very close examination of everything you want to take with you. One can only carry so much and so it is important to pack only the things you will need. Each item’s benefit must be compared against its weight. Every mistake results in the penance of carrying that mistake for the whole trip. No one does it right the first time without a lot of help. To really know what you need to pack and what you need to leave at home comes from experience.
*
So too it is with the journey of faith. Much of what we think is crucial to our faith at the start ends up being needless luxury that we drag along and never use. But the only way to find out is to go out and test your faith. To use it and rely on it! And that can be frightening. The decision to make a journey of faith, to voluntarily put your faith to the test, takes...well faith. And courage as well. And here a little goes a long way.
Jesus tells his followers, his disciples, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” At the beginning of the journey it is good to have at least a glimpse of the destination. Faith can give us that glimpse when our eyes or our hearts fail.
*
With our packs packed we load them into the van and head north. The drive takes us through the fields of northern Illinois, and the rolling moraines of southern Wisconsin, then on to the lakes of northern Wisconsin, and through the iron hills of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The smooth roads carved out of the land shield us from the changes going on around us. We are going to the wilderness. As the land changes and gets more rugged, so too our thoughts turn to the time ahead. The weather is warm and sunny, but that can change very quickly up here. The trail will be up and down, over rock and through bog. Will we be up to it?
*
When we are young, we tend to see the faith journey as a steady increase of faith, building on experiences learned, like walking up a gentle slope. But anyone who has traveled much on foot knows more about true journeys of faith. It’s not like driving on the interstate with mileage well marked out and exits and on-ramps labeled and well lit. And it is rarely, if ever, straight for long.
As Jesus tells his followers, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit.” On a journey of faith you never know what is coming next.
*
At last we arrive at Houghton, a town clinging to the side of the hill that surrounds the harbor below. Below we see our boat the Ranger 3 tied up along the pier, it’s light blue and white colors contrasting with the deep blue of Lake Superior. Tonight we will rest, for the boat leaves early in the morning for it’s 5 hour journey to Isle Royale.
There is something magical about going to sea, even if the sea is only an inland lake, albeit the largest in the world. In the dull light of early morning the Ranger 3 pulls out into the long narrow harbor and heads for Lake Superior. The wind is calm and the water is smooth as we slowly head for the mouth of the harbor. Before we even get there, however, the chill of the great lake cools the air around us and we are surrounded by a blanket of fog. Land and horizon are both lost in the moist white mist that surrounds us as the engines throttle up to cruising speed.
Stories of shipwrecks on the lake come unbidden to mind. Shouldn’t we be going slower? A glance up to the bridge reveals the captain calmly leaning on the rail and sipping from a cup of coffee as the helmsman maintains a steady course through the fog. Above them on the mast a small radar antenna spins, and above that every so often, a scrap of blue sky appears.
*
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” A trip across Lake Superior in the fog is truly an exercise in faith. For the crew of the Ranger 3 today’s trip is nothing special. Oh, I am sure there are trips when the weather isn’t so cooperative when even their faith is tested. But for those of us who have never done this kind of thing before it is unsettling.
*
With no horizon, even the gentle rolling of the smooth lake is enough to set stomachs on edge. It may not be full blown seasickness, but all of us are a bit queasy.
This too is part of a journey of faith. To get to a new place in your faith, there will be times when you will find yourself lost in the fog, when the horizon that always told you which way was up is lost from view. And you will be forced to rely on new horizons of faith. This is when faith grows, when it becomes stronger and more stable.
The first time you lose your bearings it is terrifying, but the next time the fog descends over you it’s not so bad, and eventually, like the crew of the Ranger 3, you learn how to function in the fog and get through it.
*
A drop in the speed of the engines tells us that we are arriving at the island. Out of the fog comes a spit of rock with cedar trees clinging to it, and then a lighthouse. As the Ranger 3 enters Rock Harbor the fog begins to lift and by the time she is tied up alongside the pier it is a forgotten memory. As the packs are unloaded each hiker comes forward to claim their load. Boots are laced up, packs are slung onto backs, and shoulder straps and belts are snugged up tight as all is made ready for the five mile hike to our camp.
As we head down the trail and leave Rock Harbor behind, the sounds of civilization slowly fade. So too our own voices fall silent as the effort of hiking up and down the ridges begins to make conversation a needless distraction. As the weight of the pack begins to make its presence felt, one reviews the contents and the list of luxuries to be left behind next time slowly grows. One might also begin to question the wisdom of the whole adventure as aches and pains grow. This reexamination becomes an almost constant activity during the first day.
*
The journey of faith too has these times of testing. In our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews, the author recalls how Abrahams faith was tested. God promises Abram three things; Land, Children, and Blessing. Abram does what the Lord asks him, but again and again on his journey it looks to him like the Lord isn’t going to hold up his end of the bargain. Abram has seen the land, yes, but it still belongs to someone else. And Abram and Sarah are old even ancient before they have children. Even though the word of the Lord comes to Abram saying, “Do not be afraid, Abram, for I am your shield; your reward will be very great,” to the eager Abram the words ring hollow, and the promise seems far away. And so he cries out to the Lord, “O Lord God what will you give me?”
*
The journey of faith, the effort to grow our faith, to make it stronger ends here, in a way where it began, with the realization that all we have comes from God. And so we discover that if we want more faith, it will come like everything else in our lives, from God. It is no small thing that God brings Abram outside to answer his question.
*
After a day of backpacking, when the tents are up, the dinner is done, the dishes are washed, and the water for the next day has been filtered; in short when all the work is done, there is only one show in town. It’s time for the sky show. If you’re in the right place you can see the sun set on the lake and as day passes slowly into night the stars come out.
One cannot gaze up at the stars on a clear night and not be struck dumb by the enormity of scope. When one grows up in the city or suburbs you can count the number of stars you can see And not use all your fingers and toes. But to look at the stars where the nearest light bulb is twenty miles away is to be truly overwhelmed. To see all those stars is to believe again in the power of God’s blessing. What unimaginable generosity to give us the stars.
Jesus tells us, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” The stars remind us that if the Father is giving us the kingdom, what more do we really need. The stars are a treasure in the sky that constantly remind us of that unfailing treasure in heaven that no thief can come near nor moth destroy.
So whenever it is a dark dreary November in your soul and you find your faith flagging, remember the stars. Take a little time and look up. It will be time well spent.
Amen!