Storm Anxiety

Pentecost 4

June 21, 2015

Mark 4:35–41

A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.

--Mark 4:37

When I was a child, I was terrified of storms.   I’m not talking about your run-of-the-mill childhood storm anxiety.  I’m talking about full-blown terror.  I didn’t even like going outside to play on windy days!  God played a tremendous practical joke on me by sending me to minister on the Great Plains, and to Oklahoma in particular.  Something about confronting your fears?   Like most children, my storm anxiety lessened when my parents were around.  Something about their calm demeanor in the face of the storm calmed me down a great deal.  With them, I felt safe.  Looking back, I realize there’s no logic in that – they were as powerless before the storm as I was!

As an adult, I have lost most of my storm anxiety.  Well, except for lightning.  It still terrifies me (unless I’m inside, then I think it is beautiful).  But, in our adult lives, storms come in all shapes and sizes.  In addition to sever weather (which can happen anywhere, not just Oklahoma), there are also storms of ill health, family crises, broken relationships, financial disasters, violence, crime, tragedies and a million other things that can threaten to overwhelm us with their power.  Many of these things can be more subtle and even more terrifying than an F5 tornado.    Like the tornadic winds on the prairie, the storms that rage around our lives leave us feeling out-of-control, vulnerable, and alone.  They can produce anxiety and fear that is so intense it can paralyze us.  They leave us yearning for someone to walk with us, and assure us that we are not alone in facing the storms and their damaging winds.

Sometimes, when the storms are raging, we can identify with the disciples’ irritation that Jesus is sound asleep while they are being overwhelmed by panic and fear and the crashing waves.  Maybe we share a twinge of guilt when Jesus asks them where their faith has gone.  We wouldn’t mind sharing their wonder and awe when, with a word, Jesus calms the storm.  A little storm-calming wouldn’t hurt once in a while, would it?

Over the years, I have discovered that Jesus’ storm-calming presence rarely comes in the dramatic show-stopping way that it does in this week’s Gospel Lesson.  But still, it comes.  It comes more like the reassuring presence of my parents surrounding me in their bed in the midst of the terrifying window rattling thunder of my boyhood.  It comes in moments of quiet meditation and prayer, and in the presence of the community of faith – the “Body of Christ” – in worship, in word and in sacrament.  It comes in the form of a friend -- a brother or sister in Christ -- who listens to me and reminds me of Immanuel --  God with us.

Peace,

Bishop Mike

The Big World of the Very Small

“[The kingdom of God] is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth…”  --Jesus, in Mark 4:31

In macro photography, you take extremely close-up images of small subjects and present them as large as or larger than the original subject.  It is one of my favorite forms of photography.  I have done macro photography of flowers and other kinds of plants, bugs, stones and other tiny objects I’ve discovered along the way.  It is amazing what you see when you are hiking a path looking for macro subjects.  When you are looking, you observe all kinds of things that, normally, you would just walk past without a glance.  The world of the very small is vast, complex and fascinating.

In this week’s Gospel lesson, Jesus tells two parables about the mystery of the Reign of God.  One highlights the mystery of growth, the other, the mystery of scale.  Both, I think, imply that the Reign of God can be easily missed or underestimated by the casual observer.  And yet, if you look with the eyes of faith, you can see God’s Reign all around you, and appreciate something of its true scope and power.  Both parables remind us that God is always at work, sewing the seeds, and that God can grow even the smallest acts of ministry into significance.  When God gets involved, the last become first, the least become great, the foolish are made wise and the seemingly insignificant accomplish amazing things.  God’s Reign might seem too small to see sometimes, but, it is there in all it’s wonderful complexity for those who dare to look.

I have seen this to be true again and again in the course of my ministry.  I remember a man who, without much notice or any accolades, quietly ministered to his neighbors and friends,  drove people to hospital appointments, sat with the sick in hospital rooms, brought meals to people going through rough times and on and on.  A ministry that has empowered hundreds of people in Guatemala started with a seemingly insignificant suitcase of crafts carried by a woman with a compassionate heart.   A tiny congregation partnered with a neighboring church to begin a ministry to seniors that has impacted a whole community.  The list is endless!  All of these tiny mustard seeds of God’s Reign were cast on the fertile ground and become great plants of hope and promise, love and grace.

God’s seeds of faith and faithfulness have been sown in you through the power of the Spirit for Jesus’ sake.  Sure, sometimes we need to get out the macro lenses to see them.  But they are there.  As those seeds are nurtured within the community of faith -- through our reflection upon the Word of God, as we gather together for worship and study, and as we sit quietly, our hearts open in prayer -- they grow and bear the fruits of witness, service and action in Jesus name. 

Peace,

Bishop Mike    

A Different Kind of Family

Second Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 3:19b-35

“Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother."  Jesus, Mark 3:35

“What is a ‘church’?”   I asked that question in a recent gathering.  It’s one of those questions where everyone knows the answer until you ask the question.  After a few moments trying to get words to form around the familiar, someone said, “a family.”  Another said, “a home.”  A third said, “a centering place.”  We frequently talk about ‘church’ using familial language and so does the New Testament.  As disciples of Jesus, we are “brothers and sisters in Christ”. 

Churches are very much like families.  We effectively use “family systems” theory to understand the relationship dynamics that cause churches to be both healthy and dysfunctional.  Churches, especially small churches, foster deep and lasting relationships that often span decades and generations.  Often, we celebrate and rejoice, fight and mourn like siblings.  Churches have family-like stories that shape us and “in language” that defines who we are.

Therein lies the problem.  Some years ago, I was talking with someone who had never been part of a church community, but had become interested in the Christian faith and in becoming a part of the faith community.  “I’ve been trying to find a church.”  the person said,  “Most are friendly enough, but when I visit, I feel like I’m crashing someone else’s family reunion.”   Being “family” can easily become a barrier to outsiders, it can cause us to turn inward, and make our communities so “close” that they become impenetrable -- in spite of our best intentions.

Jesus, I think, has a different kind of “family” in mind in Mark 3 when he addresses the crowds in his hometown.  Jesus’ definition of “family” has nothing to do with blood, or history, or closeness.  Jesus’ definition of family is defined by the will of God.   And what is God’s will?   Just that we love God with our whole heart, mind, and soul, and our neighbor as ourselves.  Just that we proclaim God’s Reign and care for those in need with compassion and generosity.  Jesus’ picture of family is broadly inclusive.  In Jesus’ family, everyone has a place at the table.  In Jesus’ family sins and even blasphemies are forgiven!  Lives are healed, reconciled and restored.

The Church of Jesus Christ is a family.  But, like God, our parent, and Jesus our brother, we siblings need to be focused outward, not inward.  Instead of clinging desperately to one another, churches need to let the Spirit blow us broad and wide.   Instead of feverishly protecting what we have, churches need to follow Jesus’ example and give ourselves away.   That may sound crazy, but then, they thought Jesus was crazy too.

Peace,

Bishop Mike Girlinghouse