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"How Firm a Foundation"
It's a terrifying and terror-filled world we live in, a world of pain and trauma from which we are not immune. We know what the symbolism of passing through the waters and walking through fire means. It stands for dangers that come at us from any angle. "Nobody knows the trouble any of us have seen: the hurt, the sadness, the bad mistakes, the crippling losses." Ah, yes we do. We live in a world filled with considerable risk to our physical, mental, moral and spiritual well-being. We share that stress in common.
We take hits. But when that happens we get back up, we stand. We have survived. We have made it to this day. We need not have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. Perhaps times when we were ready to give up. Times when we had seen enough of pain and sorrow. Who hasn't? There were times when we chose the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reasons. Times when we missed out. Times when we have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. Often times when our hearts have called out to us to be brave, kind, honest, and we have not followed our hearts at all. All of us can recall countless times when we might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking we might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find us. But we didn't. We haven't given up. We are survivors. And what does that tell us? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far. Foolish as we may be, a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive. Though most of the time we failed to see it, we were never really alone. We could never have made it this far if we had only each other to depend on because nobody knows better than we do ourselves the undependability and frailty of even the strongest of us. The fire and the water have been there, but so has something or someone else. It is God we have to thank for having made it somehow to this day. The water and the fire won't go away. They can't be avoided. They come to us all in one way or another. And sometimes we wonder if it pays to start anything, to invest in anything. There is not much floodlighting of life's purposes. We have to put up with a very modest glow at best. There are more than enough contradictions. There is much that can't be controlled and that brings searing pain. God doesn't promise to remove us, God's beloved ones from a world of turmoil, diseases, trials, and tribulations. A strong faith in God or a vigorous righteousness will not insulate us from mental, physical, and spiritual anguish. The water and the fire come on the just and the unjust. The Christian faith is no insurance policy against suffering. There is no immunity. The difficulties of life remain. God does not say, "I will excuse you from passing through the waters." God does say, "When you pass through the waters, I shall be there with you." The scars stay, but God gives grace to live with them even though scar tissue can cause pain. What rivers and flames lie ahead of us only time will tell, but we will pass through them in the company of God. God will prevail. God remains faithfully our God and our Savior. God may be counted on not to abandon the purpose on which God has embarked. Our confidence may waiver and we will get discouraged. But God is not finished. It is God’s unfailing work which supplies assurance when nothing seems as it should be. We have the firm foundation of divine companionship. But that is no indication that circumstances will be less painful. The difference is God's presence. We will not be saved from the waters and winds, but we will not be overwhelmed by them either. As Christians we believe that in this tragic fallen world God is working God's purpose out, and we can know, from our own experience, that in such a world as this we are given the strength to live in hope. There has never been a time when God wasn't with us as the strength beyond our strength, the wisdom beyond our wisdom. Despite everything that tends to wither the heart and make us less than human, we are here today by grace, that we have survived is a gift of God's companionship. That presence is a conviction, not a feeling. Nothing is said about our awareness of God's presence. God's presence is not to be established by our consciousness of it. The text lays no stress on emotions or feelings; it asserts the fact of God's constant presence. That is true whether you believe it or not; it is, it doesn't depend on you or me. It is true when you don't feel it. Outside the church this morning a gentle wind is blowing. You can't see it, you can't catch it. But you can see the results. The gracious presence of God is like that. It is invisible, intangible, but you can see its work. There is our firm foundation. Sometimes we catch it in the sail of our lives and we know that God's loving presence is there. God knows what it means to pass through the water and the fire for the triune God in Jesus Christ God has endured it all. God's loving presence is our ultimate ally in weathering the storms of life. However, we can resist God's help. We can permit suffering and anguish to embitter and destroy us, or with God's help we can wrestle victory from adversity. Whether or not we formally acknowledge God, God is present to wrestle some meaningful, life-affirming blessing out of the depths of the waters and the heat of the fire. Many creative achievers like Ludwig von Beethoven and Helen Keller have struggled against barriers and boundaries that served only to renew and refocus energies. I cannot believe God wills such, but I believe God is redemptively present in helping people to cope. We live in the presence of promises and commitment that give the times in which we live meaning and power – promises which come first of all to us then from us. What makes us human are those promises and commitments. Think about it. We live out of acts by God and other people who have made promises and have committed to us. We are redeemed from shallow and hostile lives by the sacrificial love and care and civility, we have gratuitously received. Having been recipients of such, we are enabled to act the same way toward each other. What does God want of us? It’s clear is it not? Authentic, reciprocating love. Times of difficulty will come. What is needed then is a renewed love for each other and a renewed trust in the God of love who has summoned us into covenant, a God who has created, formed, loved, chosen, called, and redeemed us, who has called us by name and whose we are. That God to whom we sing: "O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come," asks of us responding love. Times will come when we can't see or believe any of it. Times when we have no sense of God's presence. Life will have pressed us beyond endurance. All we can say is inarticulate sighs. Even there God's spirit works with us articulating our needs. The divine spirit is in us appealing to the divine presence above us. God knows us through and through and God is with us. Times will come when we are aware of that presence. Mercies we have not asked for are waiting for us to catch up with them. God is already in desolate places where we never expected to find God. As we round sudden turns in life's road, there is a guide there before us to lead us on. Here is a God who can be trusted. We are loved by a God who knows our frame and remembers that we are dust and loves us with a love that passes understanding. We don't have all the answers. We don't need to know. God knows. That is all that matters. We may trust God even with our death. "When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." Luther once said that he was not so much concerned about writing the theology, as he was about writing the hymns of the church. I have come to understand what he meant. In the spring of 1985 the members of the 1st Presbyterian Church of Paducah, KY were passing through the water and the fire. Three members were dying of terminal cancers. Lung cancer took Kay on the Friday before Palm Sunday; she was buried on Monday. Marian died of ovarian cancer on Tuesday of Holy Week and was buried on Maundy Thursday. She and Kay were life-long friends and had come to Paducah as young women with medical doctor husbands. The intrepid cemetery lot sales person had sold them lots side by side. Kay's flowers were still there when Marian was buried. Winston died of colon cancer on Good Friday and was buried on Monday. How could we get through that? God was there keeping promises and commitments, but others were there having made promises and commitments too. We sang "How Firm a Foundation." And the two middle verses came home to me:
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Harry Daniel