Hidden In Our Suffering
Sermon
The Christ Who Is Hidden
Sermons For The Lord's Supper
I sat there on a tombstone in the cemetery looking around and noticing the names on the tombstones. Directly behind me were the graves of my grandmother and grandfather. In front of me I could see my father's tombstone, and a bit to the right was that of my stepfather. Some yards away I could hear my wife and our children at her mother's grave.
As I sat on the tombstone, my mind and heart filled with memories. I could almost feel the heat from the spaceheaters by grandmother and I would back up to in our rocking chairs. It would be the slow part of the day for customers in her small corner grocery store on a cold winter day. She told me about the days when she was young and the custom of her day for boys and girls dating. She told me about her mother and father, and, because of the way she talked of them, they came alive in my mind -- even though they had been dead for more than forty years.
In my mind I could see my grandfather again. I felt sad because I never got to know him. I could still see him on the back steps, with his 'store-bought glasses' on, and with chewing tobacco in his mouth, reading either the New Testament or a book on the War between the States. He loved books on the war. His father had been a Confederate soldier. I remembered the day my grandfather called me to his room. He gave me the medal identifying his father's Confederate Army unit from Mississippi. He gave it to me, not to any of his children, nor to any other grandchild -- but to me! I felt proud. As I sat there, the memory was so strong that I could see him on those back steps, reading, chewing, and now and then whistling 'Rock of Ages.'
I looked up at my father's grave, and my thoughts changed. I remembered how it was to be fourteen years old again. I felt the nagging, painful, feelings of that morning, a dreadful morning, when the phone rang at five a.m. It was the local police calling. They wanted to come to the house. My father had been in an accident. The waiting seemed like forever until they finally came.
Looking down at the floor, one of the policemen, trying to be as gentle as he could, spoke up and said, 'We are sorry to inform you that Mr. Blair is dead. He was killed this morning in an automobile accident.' My heart felt the grief, longing, and anger all over again.
As I sat in that cemetery, all around me I could see signs of things that were no more, and I could feel the memories of things that had been -- and would never be again. Tears welled up in my eyes and deep within I knew that part of my life was there, and that it could never be experienced again. Reaching for my handkerchief as I slowly walked back toward the car, I heard myself saying, 'What is it all about? What does it all mean? We live, then we die. Does that make any sense? Was Shakespeare right when he said that life is ‘a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing'?'
One cannot live and get around it. Regardless of how committed to God we are, there are always those dark nights of the soul. We all pass through such experiences of life. Sometimes they strike like a tornado that tears and destroys everything with no warning. We cannot get out of the way. It just happens.
Our dark nights take many shapes and sizes. It could be our business that fails. We are left with debts and possible bankruptcy. It could be our health, a romance shattered, a home broken by divorce, or the aloneness of grief. 'The people stood far off' is true today for most of us. We all fear the dark.
The dark nights are difficult to understand. In the midst of the dark nights, we want to know the meaning and the purpose of it all. We want no sweet words. We are alone and living in hell in the dark nights of our souls. We want to know! We do not see any rhyme or reason in the dark nights. The experiences only cause us pain, depression, and the loneliness of wondering 'why?'
The truth is that life does meet us with the dark nights of the soul. The story can be told over and over again, only the names change. We look and look until we find 'Mr. Right' or 'Ms. Right.' We marry, start a family, and are able to build the 'dream house' we have longed for. Yet lately we have not been feeling well, so we go into the hospital for a physical checkup. The report comes back positive! Over and over again, we hear the doctor's voice, 'It's a malignancy!' Our heart begins to break. We question, 'What does that mean?' The dark nights are real.
Several years ago, in a hospital emergency room, a griefstricken father and mother and I stood by the bedside of a little girl just four years old. I had grown close to this family when I was on the staff of a church in one of our major cities. Their daughter had been struck by a car. The brain stem had been broken, and machines were keeping her alive. She was kept alive for seven days, but then she died. As I stood there with that couple, I did not know what to say. I, too, was trying to understand the dark night that had come along. I, also, loved Stephanie, and I could remember when I held her in my arms as an infant and baptized her into the family of God.
I also remember a fellow minister and his wife who were in their late thirties and early forties. They already had two children and planned no other additions to their family. But the unexpected happened. After getting used to the idea of having another child, the whole family began to look forward with great enthusiasm for this new member to join their family. The nine months seemed to hurry by and the baby came. It was a boy. The child was born with Down's Syndrome, or what is commonly called 'Mongolism.' The dark nights of the soul are real. It is no fairy tale -- it hurts too much!
Her name has been lost to me. She had been married for sixteen years, a considerable length of time. She had married her high school sweetheart. Like most marriages, there had been some ups and downs. But over the last few years the relationship had been 'hell.' They had tried everything. They had gone to counseling and retreats, but nothing had helped. All was in vain. The marriage was coming to pieces. Papers had been signed before a judge. The divorce was final. The marriage was over, a dark night of the soul.
Why do these nights bother us so? For one thing, they leave us with questions that have no answers. Yet what troubles us most about them is that God does not seem to be in them. We are unable to see or feel the presence of God in the dark nights of our souls.
Karl Valentine, the comedian, had an interesting skit as part of his routine on stage. He had all the lights in the theater turned off, with only one floodlight in the middle of the stage. It made a circle on the floor. Valentine would enter the lighted circle and walk around and around. He walked in this circle with his head bent, as if he were searching for something.
After a while, a policeman would join Valentine in the search in the circle of light. They simply walked in circles, around and around. Finally, the policeman stopped and asked, 'What are you looking for?' Valentine replied, 'I'm looking for my keys.' The policeman then asked, 'Are you sure you lost them here?' 'No, I lost them over there,' said Valentine, pointing to the dark. 'Then why,' asked the policeman, ‘‘are you looking for them over here?'' ‘‘Because there is no light over there,' responded the comedian.
While we have difficulty believing that God is in the midst of the dark nights of our lives, we have no problem with the God of our 'lighted' areas. We readily accept the God who is in the church or in Sunday School, or in the devotional time. Encountering God in the midst of the 'circle of light' seems natural. Meaning and purpose seem clear. Yet where is God in the midst of our dark nights of the soul? What do we do when life pushes us into the corner?
'And the people stood afar off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was (vs. 21).' How else are they to react? They have just been encountered by God, the Holy One. God has given them the Ten Commandments. They are afraid, and rightly so. Moses explains to the people what God has revealed to them. The experience is a sign of God's power. God is in the midst of their lives. God is not against them. God is on their side. Moses enters the 'thick darkness where God is' so that the people will understand that God is in all of life -- in the good moments as well as the not-so-good.
During his confinement in a Nazi concentration camp during the Second World War, Elie Wiesel, the historian and author, tells of watching the Nazis put to death -- by hanging -- a boy who was no more than ten years old. The German soldiers had expected the boy to die quickly. But he didn't. He was suspended into space on the end of a rope. He fought against death with all his might, his arms thrashing, his legs kicking. Wiesel tells of watching this gruesome spectacle and of hearing a cry that rang out from the gathered prisoners. 'Where is God?' they cried. But there was only silence, and the boy continued to struggle. Again, the voice cried out, 'Where is God?' Still only silence.
Finally, as the boy succumbed to death, the voice asked, even louder, 'Where is God?' But this time another voice answered. 'God is there. Hanging on the gallows (Night, p. 62)!'
In our hurt, our pain, our anxiety, our life, our death -- God is with us. We are not alone. The Bible recalls in our hearts that God walks in the midst of both the light and the dark. God is God in the midst of the dark nights of our souls. Our God is not a God far away in heaven, but rather, God walks with us in the midst of our dark nights. God is the God who is in the midst of our dark nights.
What about you? Do you have dark nights in your life? Then it is here that you need to be. There are words of great importance on the Bok Tower in Florida. As one looks at this tower, one is greeted with the words of John Burroughs: 'I come here to find myself; it is so easy to get lost in the world.' We know the truth of these words.
We come to this table this day. It is a table which has just bread and wine on it. Nothing fancy. Just the essentials. But what essentials! They remind us that God is with us. We are never alone. God is the God who is with us in our dark nights. Can you not see God? Can you not feel God? Can you call out God's name?
As I sat on the tombstone, my mind and heart filled with memories. I could almost feel the heat from the spaceheaters by grandmother and I would back up to in our rocking chairs. It would be the slow part of the day for customers in her small corner grocery store on a cold winter day. She told me about the days when she was young and the custom of her day for boys and girls dating. She told me about her mother and father, and, because of the way she talked of them, they came alive in my mind -- even though they had been dead for more than forty years.
In my mind I could see my grandfather again. I felt sad because I never got to know him. I could still see him on the back steps, with his 'store-bought glasses' on, and with chewing tobacco in his mouth, reading either the New Testament or a book on the War between the States. He loved books on the war. His father had been a Confederate soldier. I remembered the day my grandfather called me to his room. He gave me the medal identifying his father's Confederate Army unit from Mississippi. He gave it to me, not to any of his children, nor to any other grandchild -- but to me! I felt proud. As I sat there, the memory was so strong that I could see him on those back steps, reading, chewing, and now and then whistling 'Rock of Ages.'
I looked up at my father's grave, and my thoughts changed. I remembered how it was to be fourteen years old again. I felt the nagging, painful, feelings of that morning, a dreadful morning, when the phone rang at five a.m. It was the local police calling. They wanted to come to the house. My father had been in an accident. The waiting seemed like forever until they finally came.
Looking down at the floor, one of the policemen, trying to be as gentle as he could, spoke up and said, 'We are sorry to inform you that Mr. Blair is dead. He was killed this morning in an automobile accident.' My heart felt the grief, longing, and anger all over again.
As I sat in that cemetery, all around me I could see signs of things that were no more, and I could feel the memories of things that had been -- and would never be again. Tears welled up in my eyes and deep within I knew that part of my life was there, and that it could never be experienced again. Reaching for my handkerchief as I slowly walked back toward the car, I heard myself saying, 'What is it all about? What does it all mean? We live, then we die. Does that make any sense? Was Shakespeare right when he said that life is ‘a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing'?'
One cannot live and get around it. Regardless of how committed to God we are, there are always those dark nights of the soul. We all pass through such experiences of life. Sometimes they strike like a tornado that tears and destroys everything with no warning. We cannot get out of the way. It just happens.
Our dark nights take many shapes and sizes. It could be our business that fails. We are left with debts and possible bankruptcy. It could be our health, a romance shattered, a home broken by divorce, or the aloneness of grief. 'The people stood far off' is true today for most of us. We all fear the dark.
The dark nights are difficult to understand. In the midst of the dark nights, we want to know the meaning and the purpose of it all. We want no sweet words. We are alone and living in hell in the dark nights of our souls. We want to know! We do not see any rhyme or reason in the dark nights. The experiences only cause us pain, depression, and the loneliness of wondering 'why?'
The truth is that life does meet us with the dark nights of the soul. The story can be told over and over again, only the names change. We look and look until we find 'Mr. Right' or 'Ms. Right.' We marry, start a family, and are able to build the 'dream house' we have longed for. Yet lately we have not been feeling well, so we go into the hospital for a physical checkup. The report comes back positive! Over and over again, we hear the doctor's voice, 'It's a malignancy!' Our heart begins to break. We question, 'What does that mean?' The dark nights are real.
Several years ago, in a hospital emergency room, a griefstricken father and mother and I stood by the bedside of a little girl just four years old. I had grown close to this family when I was on the staff of a church in one of our major cities. Their daughter had been struck by a car. The brain stem had been broken, and machines were keeping her alive. She was kept alive for seven days, but then she died. As I stood there with that couple, I did not know what to say. I, too, was trying to understand the dark night that had come along. I, also, loved Stephanie, and I could remember when I held her in my arms as an infant and baptized her into the family of God.
I also remember a fellow minister and his wife who were in their late thirties and early forties. They already had two children and planned no other additions to their family. But the unexpected happened. After getting used to the idea of having another child, the whole family began to look forward with great enthusiasm for this new member to join their family. The nine months seemed to hurry by and the baby came. It was a boy. The child was born with Down's Syndrome, or what is commonly called 'Mongolism.' The dark nights of the soul are real. It is no fairy tale -- it hurts too much!
Her name has been lost to me. She had been married for sixteen years, a considerable length of time. She had married her high school sweetheart. Like most marriages, there had been some ups and downs. But over the last few years the relationship had been 'hell.' They had tried everything. They had gone to counseling and retreats, but nothing had helped. All was in vain. The marriage was coming to pieces. Papers had been signed before a judge. The divorce was final. The marriage was over, a dark night of the soul.
Why do these nights bother us so? For one thing, they leave us with questions that have no answers. Yet what troubles us most about them is that God does not seem to be in them. We are unable to see or feel the presence of God in the dark nights of our souls.
Karl Valentine, the comedian, had an interesting skit as part of his routine on stage. He had all the lights in the theater turned off, with only one floodlight in the middle of the stage. It made a circle on the floor. Valentine would enter the lighted circle and walk around and around. He walked in this circle with his head bent, as if he were searching for something.
After a while, a policeman would join Valentine in the search in the circle of light. They simply walked in circles, around and around. Finally, the policeman stopped and asked, 'What are you looking for?' Valentine replied, 'I'm looking for my keys.' The policeman then asked, 'Are you sure you lost them here?' 'No, I lost them over there,' said Valentine, pointing to the dark. 'Then why,' asked the policeman, ‘‘are you looking for them over here?'' ‘‘Because there is no light over there,' responded the comedian.
While we have difficulty believing that God is in the midst of the dark nights of our lives, we have no problem with the God of our 'lighted' areas. We readily accept the God who is in the church or in Sunday School, or in the devotional time. Encountering God in the midst of the 'circle of light' seems natural. Meaning and purpose seem clear. Yet where is God in the midst of our dark nights of the soul? What do we do when life pushes us into the corner?
'And the people stood afar off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was (vs. 21).' How else are they to react? They have just been encountered by God, the Holy One. God has given them the Ten Commandments. They are afraid, and rightly so. Moses explains to the people what God has revealed to them. The experience is a sign of God's power. God is in the midst of their lives. God is not against them. God is on their side. Moses enters the 'thick darkness where God is' so that the people will understand that God is in all of life -- in the good moments as well as the not-so-good.
During his confinement in a Nazi concentration camp during the Second World War, Elie Wiesel, the historian and author, tells of watching the Nazis put to death -- by hanging -- a boy who was no more than ten years old. The German soldiers had expected the boy to die quickly. But he didn't. He was suspended into space on the end of a rope. He fought against death with all his might, his arms thrashing, his legs kicking. Wiesel tells of watching this gruesome spectacle and of hearing a cry that rang out from the gathered prisoners. 'Where is God?' they cried. But there was only silence, and the boy continued to struggle. Again, the voice cried out, 'Where is God?' Still only silence.
Finally, as the boy succumbed to death, the voice asked, even louder, 'Where is God?' But this time another voice answered. 'God is there. Hanging on the gallows (Night, p. 62)!'
In our hurt, our pain, our anxiety, our life, our death -- God is with us. We are not alone. The Bible recalls in our hearts that God walks in the midst of both the light and the dark. God is God in the midst of the dark nights of our souls. Our God is not a God far away in heaven, but rather, God walks with us in the midst of our dark nights. God is the God who is in the midst of our dark nights.
What about you? Do you have dark nights in your life? Then it is here that you need to be. There are words of great importance on the Bok Tower in Florida. As one looks at this tower, one is greeted with the words of John Burroughs: 'I come here to find myself; it is so easy to get lost in the world.' We know the truth of these words.
We come to this table this day. It is a table which has just bread and wine on it. Nothing fancy. Just the essentials. But what essentials! They remind us that God is with us. We are never alone. God is the God who is with us in our dark nights. Can you not see God? Can you not feel God? Can you call out God's name?
