Reflection for March 25, 2020
1 Kings 19:9b-13a
Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 10 He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” 11 He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
In this Sunday’s sermon we looked at the question of whether the coronavirus was perhaps a punishment from God. We know that occasionally God becomes angry with his people and has used the forces of nature against us – floods, famines, fires, and yes, plagues. Yet we also believe that we worship a God of peace and love – a God who is kind, even to the ungrateful and the wicked (Luke 6:35). The temptation there may be to say that the difference is that the God we see in the Old Testament brings the fire and the brimstone, while in Jesus we see forgiveness and mercy.
I will never argue that Jesus does not bring forgiveness and mercy. But we also know that from the very beginnings of God’s story, there is love and forgiveness to be found. The words that many of us are familiar with from our liturgy for the Lord’s Supper:
“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love; He will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities…”
Those words weren’t born of Jesus, but come directly out of Psalm 103. The love and mercy of God was known long before Christ, and is amplified in Christ.
I’ve been thinking about where we see God today in relation to this pandemic and also the love we see in the world, and I think the scripture above from 1 Kings 19 illustrates God’s presence in our lives today.
When God summons Elijah, God tells him to go to a mountain and wait for God to pass by. And as Elijah waits, a great wind came and split the mountains and shattered rocks. Followed by a great earthquake. Then a great fire. Each of those events would have been tremendous and terrifying for Elijah to experience. Yet God was not in any of them – not the wind, not the earthquake, not the fire. God’s presence was not in any of the destructive forces that Elijah experienced in his wait.
Instead, Elijah experienced God in what came next: the gentle whisper.
God’s gentle whisper tasks Elijah to return across the desert and anoint a king and a country in God’s service. God’s presence is not in the storm, the quake, or the fire. But we see God instead in the quiet call to service.
That is where we see God today. Not in the pestilent virus sweeping through our world, but in the quiet whisper of service.
Today we see the lowest among us being exalted – the grocery clerks, delivery drivers, and package handlers, serving among the millions to keep supply chains open and turn this plague from turning into a famine. We see doctors, nurses, and orderlies, continuing to treat the worst cases, even as they face their own shortages of protective gear. And we marvel at the people who created the technological world we live in, who allow so much of us to work from own homes, conferencing with live video, even worshiping in electronic mediums.
The will of God’s presence is not in any sickness that strikes us. But it is seen in the people who are answering the quiet whisper – to feed the people; to tend the sick; to slow the virus’s spread through physical distance.
We are deeply grateful to all the people who continue to work through this pandemic. We pray for everyone’s safety. And we recognize that God’s will for each of us will be known – not through the sound and fury of the storm, quake, and fire, but through God’s quiet whisper of comfort, love, and mercy for all people.
1 Kings 19:9b-13a
Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 10 He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” 11 He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
In this Sunday’s sermon we looked at the question of whether the coronavirus was perhaps a punishment from God. We know that occasionally God becomes angry with his people and has used the forces of nature against us – floods, famines, fires, and yes, plagues. Yet we also believe that we worship a God of peace and love – a God who is kind, even to the ungrateful and the wicked (Luke 6:35). The temptation there may be to say that the difference is that the God we see in the Old Testament brings the fire and the brimstone, while in Jesus we see forgiveness and mercy.
I will never argue that Jesus does not bring forgiveness and mercy. But we also know that from the very beginnings of God’s story, there is love and forgiveness to be found. The words that many of us are familiar with from our liturgy for the Lord’s Supper:
“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love; He will not always accuse, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities…”
Those words weren’t born of Jesus, but come directly out of Psalm 103. The love and mercy of God was known long before Christ, and is amplified in Christ.
I’ve been thinking about where we see God today in relation to this pandemic and also the love we see in the world, and I think the scripture above from 1 Kings 19 illustrates God’s presence in our lives today.
When God summons Elijah, God tells him to go to a mountain and wait for God to pass by. And as Elijah waits, a great wind came and split the mountains and shattered rocks. Followed by a great earthquake. Then a great fire. Each of those events would have been tremendous and terrifying for Elijah to experience. Yet God was not in any of them – not the wind, not the earthquake, not the fire. God’s presence was not in any of the destructive forces that Elijah experienced in his wait.
Instead, Elijah experienced God in what came next: the gentle whisper.
God’s gentle whisper tasks Elijah to return across the desert and anoint a king and a country in God’s service. God’s presence is not in the storm, the quake, or the fire. But we see God instead in the quiet call to service.
That is where we see God today. Not in the pestilent virus sweeping through our world, but in the quiet whisper of service.
Today we see the lowest among us being exalted – the grocery clerks, delivery drivers, and package handlers, serving among the millions to keep supply chains open and turn this plague from turning into a famine. We see doctors, nurses, and orderlies, continuing to treat the worst cases, even as they face their own shortages of protective gear. And we marvel at the people who created the technological world we live in, who allow so much of us to work from own homes, conferencing with live video, even worshiping in electronic mediums.
The will of God’s presence is not in any sickness that strikes us. But it is seen in the people who are answering the quiet whisper – to feed the people; to tend the sick; to slow the virus’s spread through physical distance.
We are deeply grateful to all the people who continue to work through this pandemic. We pray for everyone’s safety. And we recognize that God’s will for each of us will be known – not through the sound and fury of the storm, quake, and fire, but through God’s quiet whisper of comfort, love, and mercy for all people.
