I Will Not Leave You Orphaned

Scripture Lessons: 1 Peter 3: 13-22 and John 14: 15-21 Sermon title: I Will Not Leave You Orphaned Preached on May 17, 2020 A formative moment in my life happened during the Great Recession of 2008. I was serving my first church in Lilburn, as an associate pastor. The senior pastor had just left for a church in Florida, so attendance was already dropping as were the finances. Certainly, the economic forecast didn’t help the financial situation, so the Session met and one of the first things they did was allowed the interim pastor’s contract to expire. They didn’t renew it. They couldn’t afford to. And that meant suddenly I was the only pastor at that church. This was a problem, because I didn’t know what I was doing. When the Finance Committee reported how bad they projected the budget deficit to be I was certainly terrified. I don’t remember sleeping much the night after that meeting. The next day I went to the Presbytery Office. In a sense, that’s the church’s governing body, and there I spoke with the Executive Presbyter. An impressive title for an impressive man. I didn’t have an appointment, but he saw me anyway. Perhaps the receptionist could see the terror on my face. I told him how bad the projected budget deficit was, and that I feared this church might close her doors. “What should I do?” I asked him. He took the situation seriously, then he took me seriously asking, “How much do you know about finances Joe?” I told him that I’d never successfully managed my checkbook. Then he said, “What makes you think that you’re the one to do anything?” This was one of the most important questions I’ve ever been asked. “What makes you think that you’re the one to do anything?” “What makes me think that I’m the one to do anything? Well, who else is there?” I didn’t ask him that out loud, but that’s what I was thinking. Before I had a chance to ask, he said, “Are there business owners in the congregation? Bankers? Accountants? Get them together and make sure they know the situation. Ask them for help.” As he gave me this advice, he didn’t use Jesus’ words exactly, but it was close enough. Through this man I could hear Christ saying to me as he said to his disciples so long ago: “I will not leave you orphaned.” You are not all on your own. When you pass through the waters, they may rise, but 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. Such are the promises of Scripture and this is the story of my life as a pastor. Every time I was brave enough to ask for help, my shepherd has supplied my need. Every time I boldly took inventory of the limit of my ability, he stood beside me in the breach. Every time I faced what seemed insurmountable, every time I rely on my own strength, every time I wondered, “But how will I find the words?” “How will I do it?” “How will I face the grief or the terror or the death again,” a touch of the hand or a word spoken in love reminded me that I am not alone. Coleen and Cheryl sang it, didn’t they? I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining. I believe in love even when I don’t feel it. I believe in God even when God is silent. “I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus promised. And maybe he didn’t promise that it would be easy. Maybe he didn’t promise that we’d always sleep through the night. But what he did promise was that he’d be there even when the world can’t see him. “You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” Now that’s a promise. It’s a promise like the one in the song, which was written during the holocaust and was found after, on a slip of paper. Who wrote it? And how did she become so enlightened? I don’t know, but I do know that she was right. The sun is there even when it’s not shining. Love is real, even when I don’t feel it. God is here even if we can’t hear him, and sometimes it takes a concentration camp to teach us such a lesson. Or sometimes it takes a viral pandemic. This is a time when many are reaching the end of their rope. Isolation is getting the best of some of us. Fear is wearing us down. Paranoia is creeping into our minds, prompting us to ask hard questions in a time without easy answers. I’ve felt fear, worry, frustration and anger, only who should I be angry with? We look for a villain, someone to blame, yet perhaps the thing that will bring us hope is looking, not for the villains, but for the helpers. One of the great Presbyterian ministers of history, Mr. Rogers, was bold to confess: When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I always remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.” He’s right. There are, but can you see them? Christ promised, “I will not leave your orphaned,” but do you perceive it? I was reminded this week of a story I’ve told you before of a woman I went to visit. She was upset with the church. Upset with life, really, and because I was there, she let me have it. “At that church of yours pastor, no one speaks to me. I’ve been gone for four weeks and no one has noticed.” I hate hearing that kind of thing. It breaks my heart, because I know it’s true. It happens. Sometimes the church isn’t there when we need our family of faith the most, only in that moment her phone rang. It was Gloria from the church, calling just to say to this woman, “I haven’t seen you and I’ve missed you. How have you been?” The conversation lasted just a few seconds. The woman I was visiting said something like, “Gloria, thank you for calling. But Joe, our pastor is here, and I was just telling him something. Thank you for calling. Goodbye.” Then she looked to me, “Where was I? Oh yes, no one from that church ever calls me!” What is it that clouds our vision to the helpers, even when they are there, right before our eyes? “I will not leave you orphaned” he said to the disciples. Only like this woman, they couldn’t see it always. Peter didn’t believe anyone could save him once Christ was arrested, so rather than call for help or react in faith, out of self-reliance and self-preservation he denied him three times. Or consider Judas who betrayed him. A wise man once asked me, “Would Christ have forgiven Juda had he repented?” Of course. He forgave everyone, all of humanity, hanging there on the cross saying, “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” Still, consider how often we focus on what is broken within us, rather than the grace he provides. How often do we focus on what is broken in the world, rather than His love at work in helpers great and small? How often do we depend on ourselves, not believing in forgiveness really, just holding it in. Letting the darkness in our hearts fester rather than inviting love’s light to cast it out. Of course, asking for this kind of help is hard to do so. Seeing it is hard to do. Faith is required. It reminds me of the third Indiana Jones movie, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Apparently, Indiana Jones 5 is coming out in 2022. I heard that in this one, instead of a whip, Harrison Ford has a walker. I’m just kidding. Even if it’s bad I’ll probably still go see it. All through fourth and fifth grade I wore a fedora to school I was such a big fan of Indiana Jones. And the greatest of the series is the third movie: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. In that one there’s this incredible scene. A deep chasm stands in the hero’s way. It’s so deep he can’t see the bottom. It’s too wide to jump. There’s nothing for him to catch with his whip to swing across. The ancient manuscript tells him the only thing he can do is take a step into the nothing with enough faith to know that he won’t fall. That’s what he does. With a sweaty forehead and a body trembling he steps out and his foot finds a bridge. He couldn’t see the bridge, but it was there. He took the first step then kept going and reaching the other side he looked back and it was clear that an invisible bridge had been there the whole time. We can’t always see to know that “he will not leave [us] orphaned,” but I tell you this, once this is all over, we will be able to look back on this time knowing that his hand has been moving all along. We just couldn’t see it. I know that, because that’s how it is. Faith is easier in retrospect, just as our hindsight is twenty-twenty. So, as I look back on the years of my life, I see it, while in the moment I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know that the church I served in Lilburn would go from a projected budget deficit to end the year with a surplus. The first time someone asked me how I did it sarcastically I said, “Well, I’m a financial genius.” Sarcastically, because that wasn’t true. God’s hand was at work, and while I wasn’t always sure where we were going or whether or not we were doing the right thing, He was leading us, nonetheless. Likewise, it was a strange thing to ask of you about two years ago to invest in new cameras so that we could worship over the internet. Can you imagine where we’d be had wise leaders in our church not encouraged us in this direction? Then, about three years ago today I was telling the church I served in Tennessee that I’d accepted a call to serve a church in Marietta, GA. I uprooted my family. We left people we love. While today I see His hand guiding us, in the moment, I felt like Indiana Jones, stepping into the great unknown. Of course, it was not unknown. It never is. And I was not alone, because we never are. Open your eyes to see that he is with you where you are today, at work in your life, changing things for the better. And be prepared to reach out for help. There is no need to rely on yourself, for he has not left you, he has not left me, orphaned. So, let us step into our unknown future with faith, trusting His promise that He will be with us always, even to the end of the age. Amen.