Weathering the Storm
Weathering the Storm
Matthew 7:24-27
Today is Kickoff Sunday, 2020, a kickoff Sunday like no other. Normally, this would be the choir’s first Sunday back. Normally, this would be the first Sunday of the new Sunday School year. Normally, we would be having our picnic following worship which would include the guilt free opportunity to gobble down as much fried chicken as possible. Normally, we would wind up the event by doing what our ancestors in faith at the Union Church did: dancing! There would be time for the chicken dance and time for the hokey-pokey. We would “put our whole selves in and turn ourselves about” and then head home, laughing!
Needless to say, nothing is normal this year. Let’s be honest and acknowledge that this is a real loss. The choir was really beginning to build a great energy under Judy’s leadership last spring when we had to shut down. The children’s enthusiasm as they run up for the children’s time and then run downstairs for Sunday School is so sorely missed. The picnic is one of those low-key Union Church scared moments, a time not only to share some present joy but a time to remember those who picnicked with us in the past who are no longer with us. Covid19 and the efforts we are all making to stay well have left gaping holes in our hearts. That’s just the truth.
Really, I can’t help but feel like we are standing in the midst of a great storm. Years ago, the Trustees went through what was called a “S.W.O.T.” analysis: an attempt to identify the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats for the church. These were really bright, business savvy trustees. Yet, not one of them identified a global pandemic as a potential threat to the church. I think at the time, the three threats they named were: what if the organ broke; what if the roof had to be replaced; and what if Mark and Tracy leave. Just as an aside…we have a new organ. Whenever we need a new roof, it has already been paid for. And, as far as Tracy and myself are concerned, we’re not going anywhere.
Great storms are tricky. Sometimes, we can see them coming but we have no idea ahead of time just how intensely the winds are about to blow. Other times, we are caught completely off guard. In either case, we have no control over the storms, themselves. In fact, there is always that moment in the midst of a great storm when we realize that we don’t really even know where we are in the storm: is it almost over or is this just the beginning? (How long did you think the shutdown would last when it first started?) Then, no matter how many times you experience it there is that breathtakingly odd moment when you realize that the storm has, in fact, passed. (When do you think this might happen with our current storm?) You start picking up the pieces and think to yourself, “Well, that happened…” In a great storm, the job is to do what it takes to make it through.
That’s what we’ve been doing now for months. We have been working hard to navigate the challenges of live streaming so that we can continue to worship together on Sunday mornings and pray together on Thursdays in centering prayer. We have been Zooming our way through committee meetings and Elders and Trustees meetings and Church Ladies. (I heard this week that Zoom is now worth more than General Motors or Ford.) We’ve been writing emails and letters and making phone calls. We’ve been squinting at each other in public over the top of our masks and asking, “Is that you?” We’ve been doing the best we can, in the safest ways that we can, to continue to be who we are, individually and as a church family.
What’s at stake for us as a church family is not giving the storm the power to change who we are. We can change how we do things but the new ways that we do things need to grow out of who we’ve been all along. Here’s a concrete example. I’ve talked to a lot of pastors who are pre-recording their services. A lot of their weeks are spent recording and re-recording and editing their services so that when they are posted, they are perfect. Here’s the problem for me. We’ve never set out to be perfect. We’ve always been spontaneous and connecting and able to laugh at ourselves. The ways that people gather on line and greet one another in a chat setting are as close as we can come to the warmth of a “normal” Sunday morning. Asking for joys and concerns to be shared during the live stream is as close as we can come to maybe the most sacred part of our normal worship time. We might not normally speak as directly as we have in the past few months during worship about our outreach efforts but we’ve always been a congregation that translates the notion of caring for others into concrete acts of care.
To put the matter differently, in the midst of this great storm, our foundations are tested: as individuals, as a community of faith, as a village and as a nation. The question isn’t how to re-invent ourselves depending on which way the wind is blowing. The question is, “What in the world does it mean for us to be who we are now?” There are things that we’ve always done that we love that we’re not going to do for a little while. Chances are, not too long from now, we’ll do them again. There are things we’ve always done that we suddenly realize may not have been all that worth doing. Those things may be changed permanently. In the midst of all that sorting and adjusting, though, what we cannot allow ourselves to do is to lose our integrity or our souls. The choices we make today and in the weeks and months ahead will profoundly matter.
I’m proud of how we’ve navigated things so far. While acknowledging just how much we miss being together, how much we miss shaking hands and hugging each other, how much we miss feasting on yet another sumptuous coffee hour, I think we’ve found ways to be apart and stay connected. The members of the church—despite the economic challenges—have found ways not only to continue to support the church but to respond to the world of needs around us. The homeless and the hungry, children in need and foster kids who have outgrown foster care, frontline doctors and nurses and the sanitation crews in the hospitals are among the cross section of people whom you all have come together to support. Honestly, we are not only still standing, in some ways we are thriving as we rise to meet these challenges. I’ve loved this church family for a long time. Going through these challenges together has only made me love you more.
I think we’ve found our way so far because we started practicing what it means to be the Union Church long before the present storm. Across a lot of years, we built a solid foundation. We learned to take worship seriously but not so seriously that we can’t laugh. (We’ve learned this one mistake and one good laugh at a time!) We believe that ideas matter but that service matters more. (We’ve learned this through one service project and one PADS night and one work trip after another.) We’ve learned that doing the right thing in the right way matters but that doing the right thing together matters just as much. (We’ve learned this through issue after issue when the patience that it took to hear everyone’s view bore real fruit in the long run.) These are the kind of foundational truths that we’ve been naming and putting into practice around here for years. Such truths are the rock solid foundation that has held us together through this great storm.
This is exactly Jesus’ point in our text. He is challenging people to be both “hearers” and “doers” of his words. Jesus speaks words of forgiveness and humility and compassion and care to us. When he’s asked to boil things down he says that we should love: that we love God, that we love our neighbors, that we love ourselves. In the end, to me, the truth is that such a faith is pretty “portable.” It can be carried into any moment that life can throw at us. The concrete question is, “What’s the loving thing to do?” Then, the question becomes, “Am I ready to try to actually do that loving thing?” If we make love our aim, we can weather any storm. If we settle for something less, then our lives might as well be grounded in sand. When the winds blow, our lives will be blown away. Instead, we’ve practiced being loving people through all sorts of changing circumstances and made love the foundation. This allows us to see that change—no matter what form it takes—is nothing new. Life changes constantly. With God’s help and with each other’s support, our job doesn’t change. Our job is to stare down even the craziest changes and challenges and keep asking ourselves, “Okay, now what’s the next loving thing to do?”
I firmly believe that the current storm is far from over. Individually and as families, we first need to find ways to not give into our Covid fatigue. We have to support and encourage each other to do the basic things that we know are the loving things to do: wear a mask and wear it properly; practice social distancing; wash your hands. It’s all super basic but our health and the health of the people around us depend on such things. And basic as it all may seem, can anyone doubt the connection between making small sacrifices on behalf of everyone around us and the vision that Christ offered us of self-sacrificing love? As a person of faith, are you really ready to look Christ in the eye and argue that the mask was just too inconvenient and uncomfortable? As a person of faith, are you really interested in trying to make the case that it wasn’t necessary for you to care since no else seemed to be caring?
In our homes, as family members, it is more important than ever for us to find the ways to lovingly support each other. What are the things that we can do together which will deepen our connections and remind us that we’re not alone? It might be the silly game that is our game that we play. It might be a walk that we take together every day on which we find a few surprising things that have nothing to do with a virus. It might be the way we sit down and eat together or it might be the fact that we say a few words of thanks together before we eat. These simple loving things can reinforce our connection to the rock solid foundation of God’s presence in our homes. Simple choices bring love to life.
In our neighborhoods, we need to find the loving things that we can do. How can we support the young family with all those kids and all the schooling challenges on their plate? It might be as simple as intentionally connecting to them every time we see them. How can we support that older neighbor? God works through casseroles or dropped off groceries or a vase of flowers from your garden. What about the neighbor with the “wrong” sign in his yard? Maybe it is time to be a bit more civil and a bit less disagreeable ourselves.
As citizens, the storm in our nation is only intensifying. The correlation between social class and healthcare makes poor people far more vulnerable to die of Covid. Natural disasters have decimated the lives of millions of our fellow citizens. No matter where you find yourself on the political spectrum, hardly anyone thinks that we’re heading toward a smooth election. What would it mean to be a source of God’s love in the midst of such challenges?
We can get depressed or we can get busy. We can wait for normal to return or we can do our best to be faithful. We can stand in the midst of the storm and choose to love.