What Storms Blow Away
Sermon
Sermons On The Gospel Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
A friend once pastored a church with a beautiful building. On a clear, sunny day, everything looked great: stone facade, majestic cross, and windows that were both shiny and clear. A hard rain exposed a flaw you couldn't see on a sunny day. The clear, shiny windows leaked. Right after a good rain, a dark semicircle of water marked the hallways by the windows. Those water stains were tattletales. The building was brand new. The building leaked, not because of age, but because of shoddy workmanship. The stains on the carpets pointed their fingers at the contractor. Any insistent storm peeled back the curtain and exposed a sin that no one could see in the sunshine.
Matthew closes out the Sermon on the Mount with a parable from Jesus about what happens after a storm. The parable tells us about two men who each built a house. One is wise; one is foolish. As a good rabbi, Jesus draws upon the wisdom tradition of Israel. The sages of Israel often make such comparisons. If we read the book of Proverbs, we see many sayings about wise and foolish people. "Fools show their anger at once, but the prudent ignore an insult" (Proverbs 12:16). The proverb tells us we can respond in one of two ways to an insult. Responding in anger is foolish; responding in serenity is wise.
Just so, Jesus calls one of the house-builders wise, the other foolish. On the surface, the parable seems like a no-brainer. Only an inexperienced fool would try to build a house on sand. Building on sand is easier than building on rock. The guy building on sand could finish more quickly and relax while the other poor guy was still chipping away at the rock. The foolish builder doesn't see any problem with his house. Everything is fine until a storm comes. In just a few seconds, the house built on sand crashes down. The house built on rock, which took more effort, more time, more toil to build, stands fast. The details of the parable seem obvious to us.
What doesn't seem obvious to us is that building our faith is just as hard as building a house on rock. Do we not realize that the storms of life are coming? We should expect storms! The storms of life expose our weaknesses in faith just as surely as the rain exposed the shortcuts in the quality of the church windows. If our faith is shallow, if we have built our faith on sand, when trouble comes, our lives can collapse just as the house of the foolish builder. Nurturing our faith through prayer, scripture, the sacraments, and fellowship with other Christians will build us up to survive the storms that will come.
One of the storms that will come in life is grief. One way or another, grief will intrude into our lives. We will miss out on something that we desperately want. We will lose something we believe we cannot live without. Someone we love will die. Randy Cross, a United Methodist District Superintendent, says that grief can reveal the depth of our faith. After long years as a pastor, he has observed the difference between the grief experiences of those who have a strong faith and those who do not. From the initial impact of the death, through the planning of the funeral, some people have a "deep well" of faith from which to draw in the experience of grief. Cross writes, "The deep well folks still felt profound grief and loss ... but they also expressed trust in God's love and hope in Christ and faith in eternal life. However, families who had no real firsthand experience of faith and spiritual expression were often devastated by death and unable to be consoled."1 The words of this experienced pastor are not a guilt trip to those who are struggling with grief. If we find ourselves in grief and realize that our faith is not as strong as it should be, we still can turn to God for help.
Storms reveal more than our personal weaknesses. Jesus' parable here seems almost uncannily similar to what happened in Hurricane Katrina. The storm exposed how unprepared and shortsighted the United States had been. We had not heeded the warnings that a storm like Katrina could hit the gulf coast. Even more troubling was the social inequalities that Katrina laid bare. The rich and well-to-do fared much better in the storm's aftermath than the poor did. The racism and classism had been there all along, but the storm forced us to see some things to which we had closed our eyes. If we in this country are wise, we will respond to the devastation of Katrina with the pursuit of justice for all people.
When Jesus tells us that storms are coming, he means not just the everyday storms of life, both real and metaphorical. He holds before us also the storm of God's judgment. That storm is coming. We cannot hold it back any more than we could shoo away a hurricane. In the first part of our passage, Jesus uses the term, "that day." He means the day of judgment. What Jesus says about "that day" sounds even more devastating than the storm. On "that day," the risen Christ may look at us with a puzzled expression -- the same one we get when an old acquaintance doesn't recognize us -- and claim not to know us. We should be careful here. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are not the folks who sleep in on Sunday mornings and have no use for the church. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are the ones who have called him "Lord, Lord!" Calling Jesus "Lord" in the Roman Empire was a risky thing to do. You were claiming your allegiance to Jesus and not to Caesar. These frightening words of Jesus are not merely a warning against simply paying "lip service" to Jesus and his church. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are the ones who cast out demons. They confronted the evil of the world and won a victory. Still, the risen Christ just can't put name to face for them.
These final words of the Sermon on the Mount warn us about our lack of faith, and about the ways we deceive ourselves about our faith. The sermon has been calling us to a deeper faith. It has been calling us to genuine prayer, to sacrificial giving, to radical love, to tamed impulses. It calls us to forgive those we think we could never forgive. It calls us to shun status and prestige. Some Christians have looked at the demands of the sermon and wondered how anyone could ever measure up. Who can triumph over lustful thoughts? Who can banish anger? Who can forgive those who truly have hurt us? Who can shut off worries about tomorrow, about having enough food and enough money? It seems as though Jesus calls us to do what is impossible, and then threatens us with a storm if we can't do it. Why is Jesus so harsh?
Jesus is harsh with us because Jesus is preparing us for the dominion (or kingdom) of heaven. Jesus is harsh because we are too willing to let ourselves slide. We are too willing to accept easy answers. We are too attracted to a faith that just makes us feel good. Jesus tells the ones with a shallow faith that they will not enter the kingdom of heaven (7:21). We know that the dominion of heaven is available to us because of grace. We do not earn our way into it. Nevertheless, getting in is not all there is to it. Imagine a person who had never studied music, but wanted to enroll in Juilliard, the prestigious music school. If this untrained person had a friend on the admissions committee, perhaps a sneaky admission could be arranged. The first day of class, when the professor asked the new student to sight-read a difficult piece, would expose the fact that the person was not prepared for Juilliard. Preparing for the dominion of God is hard work, like building a house on rock.
We enter the dominion of heaven by grace. Jesus is preparing the church for life in the dominion of heaven and to bear witness to the world about the dominion of heaven. In order to do that, we must live our lives as a reflection of the dominion of heaven. We are the salt and the light. God's grace enables us to live that kind of life, as individuals and as the church. We live in forgiveness, in love, in faith. With God's help, we become those whom Jesus will know. Our faith works on us from the inside out. God recreates us.
What might such a life look like? Reverend Kathleen Baskin-Ball, a United Methodist pastor from Texas, found out in January of 2007 that she had cancer in her chest cavity and liver. Just in her forties, with a young son, Kathleen's faith held firm. Here is what she wrote to her congregation, "My faith does not waver even in the midst of such serious news, and Bill [her husband] and I continue to believe that God, who is always good, will indeed work for good in the days and months ahead. We are saddened and afraid, but no less faithful in believing that God will somehow bring blessing in the midst of cancer."2 That is a faith that comes from the inside out. It is the faith of a good tree bearing good fruit (Matthew 7:18). It is faith built on rock. It is a faith that stands up to the storms of life. It is a faith preparing us for "that day," when we will see the risen Christ face-to-face. Amen.
____________
1. Adult Bible Studies, "Living in and as God's Creation," United Methodist Publishing House, 38.3, April 16, 2006, p. 51.
2. From a pastoral letter to Suncreek United Methodist Church, Allen, Texas, dated January 4, 2007.
Matthew closes out the Sermon on the Mount with a parable from Jesus about what happens after a storm. The parable tells us about two men who each built a house. One is wise; one is foolish. As a good rabbi, Jesus draws upon the wisdom tradition of Israel. The sages of Israel often make such comparisons. If we read the book of Proverbs, we see many sayings about wise and foolish people. "Fools show their anger at once, but the prudent ignore an insult" (Proverbs 12:16). The proverb tells us we can respond in one of two ways to an insult. Responding in anger is foolish; responding in serenity is wise.
Just so, Jesus calls one of the house-builders wise, the other foolish. On the surface, the parable seems like a no-brainer. Only an inexperienced fool would try to build a house on sand. Building on sand is easier than building on rock. The guy building on sand could finish more quickly and relax while the other poor guy was still chipping away at the rock. The foolish builder doesn't see any problem with his house. Everything is fine until a storm comes. In just a few seconds, the house built on sand crashes down. The house built on rock, which took more effort, more time, more toil to build, stands fast. The details of the parable seem obvious to us.
What doesn't seem obvious to us is that building our faith is just as hard as building a house on rock. Do we not realize that the storms of life are coming? We should expect storms! The storms of life expose our weaknesses in faith just as surely as the rain exposed the shortcuts in the quality of the church windows. If our faith is shallow, if we have built our faith on sand, when trouble comes, our lives can collapse just as the house of the foolish builder. Nurturing our faith through prayer, scripture, the sacraments, and fellowship with other Christians will build us up to survive the storms that will come.
One of the storms that will come in life is grief. One way or another, grief will intrude into our lives. We will miss out on something that we desperately want. We will lose something we believe we cannot live without. Someone we love will die. Randy Cross, a United Methodist District Superintendent, says that grief can reveal the depth of our faith. After long years as a pastor, he has observed the difference between the grief experiences of those who have a strong faith and those who do not. From the initial impact of the death, through the planning of the funeral, some people have a "deep well" of faith from which to draw in the experience of grief. Cross writes, "The deep well folks still felt profound grief and loss ... but they also expressed trust in God's love and hope in Christ and faith in eternal life. However, families who had no real firsthand experience of faith and spiritual expression were often devastated by death and unable to be consoled."1 The words of this experienced pastor are not a guilt trip to those who are struggling with grief. If we find ourselves in grief and realize that our faith is not as strong as it should be, we still can turn to God for help.
Storms reveal more than our personal weaknesses. Jesus' parable here seems almost uncannily similar to what happened in Hurricane Katrina. The storm exposed how unprepared and shortsighted the United States had been. We had not heeded the warnings that a storm like Katrina could hit the gulf coast. Even more troubling was the social inequalities that Katrina laid bare. The rich and well-to-do fared much better in the storm's aftermath than the poor did. The racism and classism had been there all along, but the storm forced us to see some things to which we had closed our eyes. If we in this country are wise, we will respond to the devastation of Katrina with the pursuit of justice for all people.
When Jesus tells us that storms are coming, he means not just the everyday storms of life, both real and metaphorical. He holds before us also the storm of God's judgment. That storm is coming. We cannot hold it back any more than we could shoo away a hurricane. In the first part of our passage, Jesus uses the term, "that day." He means the day of judgment. What Jesus says about "that day" sounds even more devastating than the storm. On "that day," the risen Christ may look at us with a puzzled expression -- the same one we get when an old acquaintance doesn't recognize us -- and claim not to know us. We should be careful here. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are not the folks who sleep in on Sunday mornings and have no use for the church. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are the ones who have called him "Lord, Lord!" Calling Jesus "Lord" in the Roman Empire was a risky thing to do. You were claiming your allegiance to Jesus and not to Caesar. These frightening words of Jesus are not merely a warning against simply paying "lip service" to Jesus and his church. The ones Jesus doesn't recognize are the ones who cast out demons. They confronted the evil of the world and won a victory. Still, the risen Christ just can't put name to face for them.
These final words of the Sermon on the Mount warn us about our lack of faith, and about the ways we deceive ourselves about our faith. The sermon has been calling us to a deeper faith. It has been calling us to genuine prayer, to sacrificial giving, to radical love, to tamed impulses. It calls us to forgive those we think we could never forgive. It calls us to shun status and prestige. Some Christians have looked at the demands of the sermon and wondered how anyone could ever measure up. Who can triumph over lustful thoughts? Who can banish anger? Who can forgive those who truly have hurt us? Who can shut off worries about tomorrow, about having enough food and enough money? It seems as though Jesus calls us to do what is impossible, and then threatens us with a storm if we can't do it. Why is Jesus so harsh?
Jesus is harsh with us because Jesus is preparing us for the dominion (or kingdom) of heaven. Jesus is harsh because we are too willing to let ourselves slide. We are too willing to accept easy answers. We are too attracted to a faith that just makes us feel good. Jesus tells the ones with a shallow faith that they will not enter the kingdom of heaven (7:21). We know that the dominion of heaven is available to us because of grace. We do not earn our way into it. Nevertheless, getting in is not all there is to it. Imagine a person who had never studied music, but wanted to enroll in Juilliard, the prestigious music school. If this untrained person had a friend on the admissions committee, perhaps a sneaky admission could be arranged. The first day of class, when the professor asked the new student to sight-read a difficult piece, would expose the fact that the person was not prepared for Juilliard. Preparing for the dominion of God is hard work, like building a house on rock.
We enter the dominion of heaven by grace. Jesus is preparing the church for life in the dominion of heaven and to bear witness to the world about the dominion of heaven. In order to do that, we must live our lives as a reflection of the dominion of heaven. We are the salt and the light. God's grace enables us to live that kind of life, as individuals and as the church. We live in forgiveness, in love, in faith. With God's help, we become those whom Jesus will know. Our faith works on us from the inside out. God recreates us.
What might such a life look like? Reverend Kathleen Baskin-Ball, a United Methodist pastor from Texas, found out in January of 2007 that she had cancer in her chest cavity and liver. Just in her forties, with a young son, Kathleen's faith held firm. Here is what she wrote to her congregation, "My faith does not waver even in the midst of such serious news, and Bill [her husband] and I continue to believe that God, who is always good, will indeed work for good in the days and months ahead. We are saddened and afraid, but no less faithful in believing that God will somehow bring blessing in the midst of cancer."2 That is a faith that comes from the inside out. It is the faith of a good tree bearing good fruit (Matthew 7:18). It is faith built on rock. It is a faith that stands up to the storms of life. It is a faith preparing us for "that day," when we will see the risen Christ face-to-face. Amen.
____________
1. Adult Bible Studies, "Living in and as God's Creation," United Methodist Publishing House, 38.3, April 16, 2006, p. 51.
2. From a pastoral letter to Suncreek United Methodist Church, Allen, Texas, dated January 4, 2007.
