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Rev. Jimmy Moore
Open Door
June 21, 2009
“Peace...Be Still: Grateful Reflections on Leaving This Church”
Mark 4:35-41
35On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey?”
A few months ago, today seemed a long time away, and as I stand here, I am so moved by so many memories and grateful for all of the gifts and notes you have sent. You have blessed me and opened my heart with the things you have written. I will treasure them, and I’ve decided that when I get to a really discouraging day (we all have them), I am going pull them out and allow your affirmation to wash over me once again. Thank you for that. Somehow, I hope they say, “Peace! Be still!”
Back in the dark ages when I had graduated from high school, members of my senior class took a trip to Panama City Beach in Florida. During that trip, six of us boys decided that it would be a great idea if we chartered a fishing boat for an afternoon. None of us had very much money, and I assumed it would be pretty far out of our reach, but one clever young man went through the Yellow Pages and found an ad for a fishing trip for the afternoon that would cost all of sixty dollars. Not each. Total. So we scrounged up ten dollars apiece, and off we went to the dock, stopping only at MacDonald’s where I had a milk shake (really bad idea). Soon, we were loading up on the boat, being fitted with life preservers, and being instructed into the ways of fishing in the Gulf of Mexico. I love to fish, and I was very excited.
What I didn’t anticipate was the boat ride out of the harbor. I’m not sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect that as we went through the waves out into the Gulf that they would be so high. No doubt many of you have done something like this, but let’s just say for ten dollars apiece, we weren’t exactly traveling on the Queen Mary. When We hit those waves. It was a rocking experience. What I found most disconcerting was the up and down motion of the boat, for when we went down between waves, the waves were higher than we were. I know that this is normal if you take this path, but it scared the living daylights of this landlubber. Something in me wanted to say, “Peace, Be Still.” Eventually, we made it through this rough part and got out on the more open sea where the water was really quite gentle, very gentle in fact. Gently we went up and down and up and down and up and down. I caught the first fish which was exciting. It was a bonito, but then I let others fish and sat as we went up and down and up and down. I always thought that the talk about turning green when you were seasick was a metaphor, but trust me, it’s not. I never should have had that milkshake. Every thing in me wanted to say, “Peace! Be Still!” I was prepared neither for rough waters nor calm water. One made me frightened in my heart, and the other made me sick to my stomach.
The story we read together has something of this feel to me. Rapidly rising storms were not unusual in this large lake that lies some six hundred feet below sea level. Those who have been on the sea with experienced fishermen have noted that though the skies look calm to the average person, they have found a way to detect when storms are on the rise. When they are, they head for shore as rapidly as they can. I think we can also be quite sure that Mark doesn’t include this story in the Gospel so we can find ways to have happier fishing trips. We think that the Gospel of Mark, likely the first Gospel written, came together as a gospel during the first wave of Imperial persecution faced by the early church at the hands of the crazy Nero. Nero, we know, didn’t like Christians, and the church faced some stormy seas because of the violence and intimidation he enacted against the church. So the early Christians began to love this story and often imaged the church as a sea going vessel as a way of affirming that Jesus would help them navigate these rough waves. In the midst of the storm of trouble, they would utter their prayer for peace, just as Jesus did, and even if the persecution didn’t go away, they would find a way to calm themselves and find their courage.
If that seems a little too clever for you, I want to suggest that such a meaning wasn’t lost on Jesus’ hearers. The sea to an ancient person, for all of its beauty and ability to provide food, meant “trouble.” This is what the seer meant in Revelations 21:1 when he wrote, “...and there shall be no more sea.” No more trouble. Some of you will remember that song which never seems to end that Gordon Lightfoot sang, titled “The Edmund Fitzgerald,” about a ship that went down in Lake Superior on November 9, 1975. But you may not remember the lyric which reads, “Does anyone know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?” I’m pretty sure that even if you’ve never been on a boat, you’ve known that question, that longing for peace and for love? All of us have been in rough waters and wanted to hear someone say, “Peace! Be still!”
Peace...shalom...is the quintessential blessing of the church. When we are here every Sunday morning, we offer each other the chance to pass the Peace of God. When the early church would receive friends and guests in hospitality and when they would send them on their way, they would bid “peace.” When Paul described the essential quality of being reconciled with God and with other people, he called it “peace,” and when Jesus was preparing to leave the disciples, he said, “My “peace” I leave with you.” Before there was a New Testament or a Christian Church, there was “Shalom,” the Hebrew word for peace. Here is what we can know from the use of that word which Brueggemann tells us must be understood broadly. Peace...Shalom...is God’s comprehensive vision for the well being of the world. It represents God’s longing that the world would be made right. At the very heart of our faith is the Gospel of peace, of a world made right. It is what we do when we are at our best. We bring God’s wave-stilling peace to a stormy and frightened world.
When I came to this church twelve years ago, I was inwardly in some rough waters myself. I didn’t preach for a couple of years but attended to some of my own healing. I won’t tell you that all of a sudden, the winds and waves stopped, but I’ll tell you that I found a way to stay in the boat, and the peace of God did its holy work.
Some of you know that for some years now, a friend of mine has tried to teach me to water ski but to no avail I might add. His task is complicated by the fact that I can’t swim. So every time we would go to the lake, I’d put the life vest on, and when it was time, jump in the water. Because of instrumentation he had in the boat, I know the water was thirty feet deep. No matter how much my mind knew that the life vest would keep me afloat, my body and my emotions didn’t know that. I would go in the water and every time, have a panic attack. Finally, my spirit adjusts, and I realize that the water will hold me. Eventually, I find my peace.
When we began this transition work together, someone urged me to include Anne Lamott in the process. This story is for you. It is Father’s day, and in her earlier books, Anne rarely talks about the father of Sam, the child she had even though she wasn’t married. But in her Plan B, she mentions him. She had been dating a handsome man named John, “in the biblical sense,” and she became pregnant. He didn’t know if he wanted anything to do with that. Things between them went badly, and Anne would end up having Sam alone. She calls him, “This beautiful child.” She told Sam only a little about his dad, mainly what he wanted to know, which wasn’t much. She did tell him that she had a couple of pictures if wanted to see them, and for a while, he didn’t. But as Sam reached seven, he was more intrigued, and Anne was afraid that Sam would never find his father, or worse, that he would. Then one day, Sam asked the dreaded question, “How can we find my Dad?” Anne started calling numbers and friends, hoping to find him, but she was unsuccessful, so she started praying. In her words, “When all else fails, follow instructions.” Soon, serendipitously, there was an obituary in the paper for Sam’s Dad’s father, and it was mentioned that this man’s son had taken care of him in his home. Anne told Sam she knew where his Dad was. They decided to let a little time pass, and then Sam would write a letter. He did, and he was reunited with his father. If you know Anne’s writing, you have read how this relation evolved, but for today, I just want to let you hear the beginning of his letter. It began, “Hi, Dad, it’s me Sam. And I’m a good boy.”
I believe that every time someone comes in our door at church, something in them is looking for the peace to be still. Something in all of us wants someone to notice that there is something in us that is worth loving, saving, and believing in. However rough the waters have been, we want to know that there is someone who is glad we didn’t get washed away. One of my great blessings in this work is to watch the very brave work of those are holding it together and waiting for the winds to stop. We don’t talk about this very much, but I am so moved by those who come here who are wrestling with addictions. They come here anonymously, but they know and God knows, and every now and then, they tell me their story. They help me to believe on days when I might be tempted to give up, that this peace, this righting of the world that is so precious to God’s heart, is real.
In the Gospel story, the disciples are distressed with Jesus, because he’s below deck taking a nap. Don’t you know, they ask, that we are perishing? Jesus actually rebukes them for having such small faith and suggests that they should take notes for what happens next. “Peace! Be Still!” and the winds and waves are calmed. I almost titled this sermon, “Waking the Sleeping Jesus,” because part of the enduring truth of this story is that divine energy lies dormant within us and our community, just waiting for the moment when it will awaken itself and us to live. Peace, you see, moves with force and energy and makes the world right. Today, when we pray and preach and pass peace and baptize, we do something. We are about setting the world right.
In that spirit, I have a letter to share, and in closing my sermon and my ministry here, I want to read it to you. It’s from me, and I am writing it to the three children we baptized today, and it contains my prayers for them on this day.
Dear Addison, Henry and Carly, children of God, little sisters and brother in the family of faith,
We baptized you today at the Open Door. It was a special day for me, for it’s my last day here. But it was important to me that your big day wouldn’t get lost in mine, so I wanted to write something that years from now, you’d be able to know a bit more about what happened here. If you are reading this, I suspect that means that your folks are keeping their promise to help you understand the Christian faith. Knowing them as I do, I believe that they want to keep their promises, and more than that, they want the best for you.
Today, we welcomed you in all of your uniqueness and untold promise and blessedness into the faith. But as I touched your heads with water, we joined you with all of other little ones we’ve baptized here and to whom we made the big promise. You were baptized into this fellowship of faith, so, it seems to me that you should know something about the people in this room.
Simply put, they are some of the bravest people I know. In my job as pastor, I get to meet many people, and if grace happens, I get to hear their stories and witness how grace unfolds in their lives. I know the stories of many here, and since I announced that I was leaving, many more of them sent me notes that let me into their holy places. These friends of God have been through more than you will ever know. Their hearts have been broken, their spirits have been discouraged, and their resolve has been tested. But here they are, promising that among their many commitments in life, they would include loving you in the faith. One of them told me this week that when, occasionally, little children are running around a little too energetically in church, they get a little distressed. But then, this person said that it comes to mind, “Jimmy tells me I need to love them.” If that sticks with people, then it is one of the best things I’ve done here. For as much as we hate to tell you, somewhere, somehow, in ways you can’t imagine, you’ll get tested, and you will need the blessing of God all over you. We call that peace, and you can get it from God’s people.
In my years here, I’ve witnessed these people struggle with dignity and faith with substance and process addictions, face their own doubts with honest faith, trust that this church would welcome them whoever they were and whoever they loved, deal with their best faith when relationships faltered, pray for loved ones who were making harmful decisions, and grieve with love and hope when they lost some of the world’s best souls. I could hope and pray that those things won’t happen to you, but if they do, I hope you find people just like them. They’ll help you right the ship and find your way home. These people notice when someone is hungry, they have cared when their homes were flooded, and when they didn’t have anywhere to live. They have lived their faith, and many of them have found it again. They have made my heart glad.
Now, in case you are wondering what was in my mind today about you, you should know that I will miss watching you grow, discover your own faith, and seek out your own calling. But I know that I leave you in good and loving hands, for these people know how to pass the peace, and they will pass it to you.
You take good care, all three.
Your friend and servant, Jimmy Moore.
Good people of God, no matter how stormy, know that the peace of God is with you and will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, now and forever. Amen.
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