June 24, 2012 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

Just as He Was

Judith L. Watt
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 9:9–20
Job 38:1–11
Mark 4:35–41

This morning, at waterside, a sparrow flew
to a water rock and landed, by error, on the back
of an eider duck. . . .

This afternoon a gull sailing over
our house was casually scratching
its stomach of white feathers. . . .

Oh, Lord, how shining and festive is your gift to us, if we
only look, and see.

Mary Oliver
“Look and See”

The last time I preached from this pulpit during the morning services was the first Sunday in Lent. But it was also the Sunday before Walter Brueggemann preached here. Walter Brueggemann is an internationally known Old Testament scholar, a prolific author, a man who is admired from many corners of the world. I remember joking with a few of you that I had simply been the warm-up act for Walter. My little joke made me smile and got a few laughs from some of you. Last week, the same lighthearted joke popped back into my mind, but in reverse. Monsignor Ken Velo was here last Sunday and delivered a wonderful and well-received sermon. And he too has a national reputation, is well respected throughout the Archdiocese of Chicago, and is probably known within the inner circles of Rome. But when that line popped into my head last Sunday, even after a few moments of temptation, I decided it might not be a good idea for me to suggest to him that he was the warm-up act for me.

In all seriousness, we who preach here know that preaching is both a high honor and a great responsibility. And if we have our heads on straight, preaching from any pulpit, no matter the size of the church, no matter who comes before us or after us, is both incredible blessing but also great responsibility.

The gospel story today tells us about a sailing incident. I’m betting a fair number of you have had occasion to sail the Mac—the great historic race from Chicago to Mackinac Island and back. I’ve talked to enough sailors to know that to set out on this race, there’s excitement and anticipation and also a certain amount of fear. And I know throughout the hours of that race, crews rotate shifts for sleeping. When it’s your turn to sleep, you find whatever little spot might be available, among all of the equipment and the supplies and the beer, and you hope to get a couple of hours of sleep. But I would bet if a great storm arose, your buddies would be yelling as loud as they could for you to wake up and get your you-know-what up on deck to lend a hand.

And that’s what the disciples were doing when they started yelling for Jesus to wake up and help. There they were out in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. And the winds suddenly started raging and the boat was filling with water, and Jesus was asleep in the back of the boat. He wasn’t asleep just until the storm started. Jesus was asleep well into the storm. The boat was already being swamped, filling up with water. And there he was, dead asleep, on a cushion.

Jesus was sleeping in the back of the boat, and so the disciples wake Jesus up. “Jesus, don’t you care that we are perishing?” “Jesus, don’t you care that we’re about to drown?” “Jesus, don’t you care that I’m wondering how I’m going to pay my next month’s rent? That I’ve got this terrible disease?” “Why are you asleep when all of this is going on?” “Jesus, where were you when those young boys were being abused?” “Jesus, where were you when my retirement funds went down the tubes?” “Jesus, don’t you care? Don’t you care—about me, about my family, about my job, about my church, about the world?” The disciples wondered if Jesus really gave a rip about what was going on in that boat, in their lives.

Following the Jerry Sandusky case over these last several weeks has been disgusting. I found myself wondering how people could have looked away for so many years and despite so many suspicions. I wondered about the coaches. And I wondered about Jerry Sandusky’s wife. Had she been clueless, or had she, too, just looked away? Been asleep? I also imagine that the victims of those unspeakable crimes wondered if God knew what was going on in those locker rooms when they couldn’t figure out how to get out of the situation they were in, wondered did God give a rip?

The Old Testament reading today reminded us of another person who wondered where God was in his life. There is no one in our storehouse of biblical accounts who has lost as much as Job lost: his wife, his children, his home. Job spends years lashing out, wrestling with God. Along the way he receives his share of placating answers from friends about why God would allow him to suffer so. Job’s question is the same as the disciples’ question: “Lord, why don’t you wake up? I’m perishing.”

I’ve talked to enough of you about your own life losses to know that you have asked the same questions. And so have I.

These struggles we face as human beings, as communities, aren’t ever what we would choose, and I’m not so sure God would choose them for us, but they quite often are the crucible in which our knowledge of God and ourselves is deepened. C. S. Lewis’s great statement in his book The Problem of Pain says it: “It [pain] is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world” (C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain).

Job’s questions and struggles finally aroused God to answer. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” “Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb? Have you commanded the morning since your days began?” God reminded Job that Job was speaking to the very creator of the world, who had cared about the whole big picture from the beginning of time. This was the creator of the universe to whom Job was speaking.

Likewise, the disciples didn’t know that this guy in the back of the boat was God. In fact, the story at the beginning says, “They took him with them in the boat, just as he was.” Just as he was. Does that mean, “just as he was—human and dog-tired”? Or “just as he was—fully human and fully God”? Just as he was—“the one who would change their lives and the course of the world”? Just as he was —though they didn’t know it—“the one who would suffer and die because he wanted them to know, more than anything else, who God was and what the kingdom could look like and that God loved them—loved them no matter what storms were raging”?

But they didn’t know who he was. They’d been listening to his stories about what the kingdom of God was like—stories about seeds, little miniscule seeds. They didn’t get it. But Jesus is trying to teach them. “Look and see, because the kingdom of God isn’t always what you expect it to be.” And so when they see him sleeping, just as he was, they don’t see what is there. Nor do they see what he can do, nor do they have a clue that he is God. And then he wakes up and stills the storm.

In the ancient world, these stories used the raging sea and the creatures of the sea to symbolize evil. Anybody hearing this story in Mark’s day would know that a story about Jesus stilling a storm, literally telling the wind to shut up, meant that this was no normal human being but instead was the creator of the universe, the only one who had power to overcome evil. Mark’s audience would have heard hope in this story, because they were struggling in the face of Nero’s persecution. Sometimes, under the rule of Nero, Christians were made to line up in the streets, were tied to crosses, were set on fire to provide light along a pathway. These early Christians were having a hard time seeing any signs of the kingdom of God, and this story about Jesus stilling the storm would have given them hope.

So for those of you not in the middle of any kind of serious life challenge right now, remember what Monsignor Velo said last week: like shepherds, circle those who need your care—with kindness, compassion, thoughtfulness, generosity, patience, service.

And for those of you who are in the middle of such struggles, feeling as though you are almost at bottom, two instructions: first, put yourself in a place of most potential to come into contact with the creator of the universe. Get out in nature. Take a walk. Look at the lake, for a long time maybe. Watch the grass grow. That means, take time. Grab time. And ask, “Who then is this who made the universe?” And if it’s not nature, listen to your favorite piece of music. Whatever music makes your heart sing. I remember the scenes in two movies: Tom Hanks in the movie Philadelphia, in the midst of his struggle with AIDS, listening to an opera aria, and Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption broadcasting a piece of music throughout the prison, into the courtyard, until everyone, every prisoner, stood spellbound. A God moment maybe. A moment beyond our understanding that fills us with complete wonderment, allows us to be lifted up. Or maybe you’d rather look at some art. Put yourself in the place of most potential to experience a glimpse of the creator of the universe and take time to take note. It won’t change the difficulty of what you face, but it might remind you and teach you even more about who this God of ours is. “Who then, is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

The second instruction: simply listen to the sentiment of a poem I’m about to read called Wit’s End Corner by Antoinette Wilson. Being at your wit’s end is being in a time when everything is going wrong and you don’t know which way to turn. Let this poem remind you that God is near, that the kingdom of God can be found in unexpected places.

Are you standing at “Wit’s End Corner,”
Christian, with troubled brow?
Are you thinking of what is before you,
and all you are bearing now?
Does all the world seem against you,
and you in the battle alone?
Remember at “Wit’s End Corner”
is just where God’s power is shown.

Are you standing at “Wit’s End Corner,”
blind with wearying pain,
feeling you can’t endure it,
you cannot bear the strain
bruised, through the constant suffering,
dizzy and dazed and numb?
Remember at “Wit’s End Corner”
is where Jesus loves to come.

Are you standing at “Wit’s End Corner,”
your work before you spread,
all lying begun, unfinished,
and pressing on heart and head,
longing for strength to do it,
stretching out trembling hands?
Remember, at “Wit’s End Corner”
the Burden-bearer stands.

Are you standing at “Wit’s End Corner”?
Then you stand at the very spot
to learn the wondrous resources
of Him who faileth not!
No doubt, to a brighter pathway
your footsteps will soon be moved,
but only at “Wit’s End Corner”
is the “God who is able” proved.

Alleluia! Amen!