LIFE ON THE “D” LIST: DISASTER

1 Kings 19: 8-13a

Whether an event happened before your time, or in a time you can remember, there are times that we classify as disasters. Most recently the Japan earthquakes, tsunami, and nuclear crises have all been part of a giant disaster. It is likely that someone you know may also have endured a personal disaster: like a house burning down, or a child dying, or a friend not coming home from war, or a storm hitting your house. Before Japan, you’ll recall some other disasters: Hurricane Katrina in Louisiana, Hurricane Andrew in Miami, and the four hurricanes of Charley, Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne that hit our area in 2004. There were, of course, other tragedies that had some human causes such as the BP oil spill, the 9/11 disaster, the Challenger disaster, the Titanic disaster, and the Hindenburg Disaster. Again, most people know what a disaster is: by and large it involves loss of life, sometimes catastrophically but always tragically; often loss of property; and always a loss of security. When security gets jeopardized and people feel less safe, most often the question of the ages comes to the lips of men and women. Even people of faith dare to murmur this question: “Where was God?” Today I hope to address that whispered question, particularly regarding natural disasters.

We have heard two extraordinary passages today: Psalm 121, and 1 Kings 19. Both of them were magnificently brought together by composer Felix Mendelssohn in his oratorio called “Elijah.” The first line of Psalm 121 is almost certainly a question, though some have rendered it a statement: “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills; from whence cometh my help?” Verse two answers the question asked in verse one: “My help cometh from the Lord, who made Heaven and Earth.” It is the kind of message that bounces around in one’s head, especially in a time of crisis. When I was cooped up in our house when four hurricanes pummeled our area in 2004, questions like that formed in my mind as well: lifting my eyes to the hills was not really a geographical description in flat Florida; it was a theological one. When the minister says in the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving “Lift up your hearts,” it is not a statement of anatomical surgery; it is one of theological posture! So, when the Psalmist implies, “to the hills we will lift our eyes; from where does our help come? It is not a description that God always comes from the hills. It is the thought of a desperate person, scanning the horizon, as his or her mind struggles with the catastrophe. “Where will I go? What will I do?” These are questions that fill our minds when disasters hit. Even the post Hurricane Andrew construction of my home gave me little solace as winds howled around our house in 2004, as debris flew through the air, shingles flew off, and as our screen enclosure threatened to crumple. My mind would race: what supplies will I need if the roof gets breached as it did here at church? What will I do if water starts pouring in?” Disasters can fray your nerves. In some cases people binge on food that is thawing from their warm refrigerators; in other cases people have no clean water or working plumbing. Disasters—especially natural ones like hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, and lightening strikes—make those three words form on our lips: “Where was God?” We know with the Hindenburg or the Titanic or the Challenger that the question “What went wrong?” could mostly be attributed to faulty construction, ignorance, or miscalculations. But with nature, people look to the Bible and can often get mixed signals. The people of Israel, for example, believed that everything was from the hand of God. If a child was stillborn they would ask God what sin they committed to have such a curse. If a storm destroyed their village they would ask God why so much wrath was sent their way. If disease filled their lives or locusts ate their crops, they believed they were sent from God. Thus we have the stories of Job and the great Exodus plagues interpreted as anguish sent from the Almighty. But in Jesus’ day, he thought differently. He told questioners that “the rain falls on the fields of the just and the unjust.” (Matthew 5:45.) His perspective on where trouble comes from is different from someone like Job. That’s why the Elijah passage is so unique in the Old Testament stories; in it we find that God is not in the storms; but God Is in the aftermath. It helps us to appropriately frame the “Where was God?” question. In this story, we have a fragile, seemingly terrified, perhaps exhausted and maybe burned out prophet of Israel. Elijah was clearly one of the greatest Biblical prophets. When people were wondering who Jesus was, they often surmised that he might be Elijah. One place that is said is in John 1:21. Elijah took on unbelievers in God, like King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, challenging the prophets of Baal to a most daring contest. On the top of Mount Carmel, he would place a bull on one pile of wood for a sacrifice and they would do the same on another pile of wood. Whichever deity lit the wood with fire from heaven would win. Well, Elijah won that contest! But then he had the king and the queen after him when he slew the prophets of Baal! The monarchs didn’t like being humiliated! So Elijah heads off into the desert, not thinking clearly, and is ready to just throw in the towel. I’d imagine you’ve gotten to your wit’s end at times, haven’t you? I have. Elijah pathetically curled up under a broom tree for some shade. God spotted him, and sent an angel to him with food and drink. Haven’t you had someone bring you food or drink during a disaster? I have. They look like people, but they act like angels! And after the food that Elijah ate, he traveled a great distance, returning to what was known as the mountain of God, perhaps seeking shelter. He hid in a cave. God saw him. As when a person gets shell-shocked from a disaster, God was at first gentle with him: God’s voice came to Elijah with these words: “What are you doing here Elijah?” And Elijah explained. God sized up the situation. This great prophet needed a protégé to continue the work. So God tells Elijah to go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord. Elijah thought he knew what was about to happen: he thought he was about to have a “theophany,” an appearance by the Lord. But the form of God’s revelation was unlike anything Elijah had ever expected! It was just perfect for the shaken prophet. The difference was this: when God appeared to Moses on that same mountain, it was with smoke and fire and earthquake that God “passed by.” But the narrator of our Elijah story pulls the rug out from under the hearer’s expectations. The narrator says “Now there was a great wind! It was so strong it was breaking rocks and splitting the mountain!” And then the narrator leans in and says to the listeners: “But, the Lord was not in the wind!” (Remember that part!) “And then after the wind there was … an earthquake! But the Lord was not in the earthquake! And right after the earthquake there was a fire!” “But the Lord was not in the fire!” Where was God? As Mendelssohn puts it so magnificently, “after the fire there was a still, small voice … and in that still voice: onward came the Lord; onward came the Lord; onward came the Lord.” God did not create or send our disasters; even Jesus suggested that. Instead, to the answer “Where was God?” which is past tense, we answer “Where was God in Japan, or when wind whipped Daytona, or when waters flooded New Orleans? God was under hundreds of hard hats, cutting trees or shoring up collapsed roofs. God was setting up portable pumps and generators. God was running into rooms with terrified children and carrying them to safety. And through other neighbors in our global village, God was sending food and finding shelter for people frightened by the storm. For a few days or weeks after these disasters, the world seems to forget how big it is geographically, and how many differences there are in neighborhoods, ideologies, creeds, skin colors, and income brackets. For a few days or weeks, the Kingdoms of the world after a disaster become the Kingdom of our God and of his Christ. God is there. God is helping hard hearts melt and helping neighbor help neighbor—even those who were at odds or didn’t know each other before the disaster. God is in the grace, in the caring, and the sharing.

Disasters will still come our way. When some people face them, they may look to the hills for God. Still others think God is in the wind and the earthquakes, and the floods. But now you know the lesson from Elijah: after the terror and the anguish that the disaster brings, and after the winds finally die down, onward comes the Lord. Thanks be to God.

Jeffrey A. Sumner April 10, 2011