You Will Never Vanish From His Sight

Scripture Lessons: Hebrews 4: 12-16 and Job 23: 1-9 and 16-17 Sermon Title: We Will Never Vanish from His Sight Preached on October 10, 2021 There’s a wonderful children’s book called, “It Could Be Worse,” by James Stevenson. The main character is an unflappable grandpa, who no matter what, whether his grandson got a splinter, or the dog ate a sofa cushion, only ever responded with, “it could be worse.” This response frustrated his grandchildren. They thought their grandfather never got excited about anything, and so they assumed nothing exciting ever happened to him. Only then, one day at breakfast, grandpa said, “Last night, when I was asleep, a huge bird picked me up out of bed and took me for a long ride and dropped me in the mountains. There, I heard a loud noise. It was an abominable snowman with a huge snowball which he threw at me. I got stuck inside the snowball which rolled down the mountain and finally landed on the desert. There, it began to melt. I walked across the desert, and suddenly I heard footsteps coming nearer and nearer. A moment later I got squished by a giant something or other. Before I could get up, I heard a strange noise. A great BLOB of marmalade was coming toward me. It took me across the desert until I crashed into something tall. It was sort of like an ostrich and was very cross. It gave me a big kick. Then, I went into some storm clouds, almost got hit by lightning, fell out of the clouds, landed in an ocean down about a mile to the bottom the sea, where a goldfish came swimming at me, so I swam away as fast as I could. I hid under a cup that had air in it. When it was safe, I crawled out. I started to walk but my foot got stuck in the grip of a gigantic lobster. I didn't know what to do but just then a big squid came along and squirted black ink all over the lobster. I escaped him and hitched a ride on a sea turtle that was going to the top for a bit of sunshine. I was fortunate to find a piece of toast floating by and rode to shore where I discovered a newspaper, that I quickly folded into an airplane and flew across the sea and back home to bed.” “Now, what do you think of that,” he asked his grandchildren. “Could be worse,” they both said. It could be worse. However, for Job, it could not be worse. This is the second Sunday in a row with a sermon focused on a passage from the book of Job. Rev. Cassie Waits and I plan these things out. Just as we focused on the “I AM” statements of Jesus over the summer and the book of James last month, we’re preaching sermons on the book of Job this month, which seems like a good thing to do, except for the fact that Job is just so sad. The book is abundantly depressing. It’s true. Everything bad that could happen happens to Job. He loses everything. His children die. His wealth disappears. His crops dry up. His friends come to see him, and had they said to Job, “It could be worse,” Job would have asked them, “how?” How could things possibly be worse? For Job, they couldn’t be worse, and the question the book calls us to think about is this: how is God at work in the ash heap; the place where things couldn’t get any worse? In our Second Scripture Lesson, Job seeks God out to ask this question, and it’s one that seems like a good question for us to ask in these strange days. When did this pandemic begin? March of 2020. It’s becoming harder for me to remember what life was like before it started. Can you remember? Can you remember what it was like to just come to church without having to think so much or worry so much? Can you remember what it was like to just walk into a restaurant? Can you remember what it was like to send your kids to school with some level of confidence that they would stay there for the whole week? Week before last our daughter Cece tested positive for COVID-19. I’m so thankful that her symptoms were never too severe and that the rest of us never got sick, and since Cece is too young for the vaccine, once she got over the virus and had those anti-bodies, we felt a degree of freedom we hadn’t felt in a long time To celebrate, last week we went on vacation. The girls were out of school for Fall Break. We decided to go to the Isle of Palms right outside of Charleston, and I had the bright idea to go on an overnight canoe trip on our way there. I’d read that you can canoe down the Edisto River, 23 miles, and midway spend the night in a tree house. That sounded like a great idea, but like most of my ideas it turned out not to be. Let me tell you what happened. The canoe outfitter drove a shuttle upriver, dropped us off, gave us a brief orientation, and then pushed us downriver. Within the first mile Sara and Cece steered their canoe under a branch that had a snake in it. Seeing it fall from the branch, Sara screamed and dropped her paddle. Unable to steer, the river’s current pushed them into a fallen tree, where they got stuck, and about 8 feet away on the river’s edge an alligator lay sunning herself. It doesn’t seem like this could get much worse. It didn’t. That was the worst of it, but here’s what I want to focus on. We had no time to think about how bad it was because the water kept moving us downstream. We couldn’t go back. We had to keep going. It seemed like the light was going out, like we were vanishing into darkness, and that thick darkness would cover our faces, only something also kept pushing us onward. Do you know this feeling? Again, and again, Job calls out: Answer me Lord, why? Why has this happened? Why am I hurting? What have I done? He’s not overreacting here. He’s not exaggerating. Truly, everything has gone wrong, it couldn’t get worse, but notice that this passage which we’ve read doesn’t end the book. Job’s story keeps going, for like a canoe floating down stream, the current carries him onward, and darkness is not the end, because darkness is never the end. We must remember that. For, from time to time the darkness can get to you. Do you know what I mean? Friends will ask me how the church is doing, and sometimes their voices are more downcast than I’d like. “Really Joe, how is the church doing?” They say it that way, maybe having heard that 1 out of every 4 churches will close during the pandemic. That they’ll never recover. Their doors are closed for good. So, thinking of such a reality, when asked how our church is doing, there’s a part of me that sinks down into the darkness of discouragemetn. Our pews are not full. Our choir hasn’t been singing. Wednesday Night Supper is on hiatus. Everything is a little bit weird. And yet, we’ve distributed nearly 300,000 meals out of the parking lot. We’ve provided housewarming gifts to resettled Afghan refugees. We welcome more visitors every week. The preschool continues to be a place of welcome. We have a new youth director, named Michael Sanchez. Annual staff reviews are coming up, and I’m looking forward to doing them, because I just have a whole lot of good things to say. How many masks has Bev Barlow sowed? Neighborhood group leaders, pastors, Stephens ministers, are reaching out and making phone calls. We hope to be nominated as the best place to worship in Cobb County again and hope to win for the fourth year in a row. Is there darkness? Yes. Is there hardship? Yes. Are things different? Yes. Have snakes have been falling from the trees? Have we lost a paddle? Is there an alligator on the shore? Maybe. Still, the current pushes us onward. While the darkness may at times be thick and getting thicker, we know this: the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not overcome it. John 1:5 has been my favorite verse of Scripture for as long as I can remember. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” The light in this verse is a person, a person named Jesus, and the book of Hebrews in our First Scripture Lesson calls him a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, who is able to sympathize with our weakness, for he suffered, and was tested in every respect. Though he was innocent, he was tried as a criminal. Though he was pure, he was whipped. Though he is the High King of Heaven, he was given a crown of thorns. Though he is due the throne, he was nailed to a cross. Though he is the Savior, he was deserted. Though he is the Son of God, he breathed his last breath and gave forth his sprit. What are we to say about these things? It could be worse? No, it couldn’t have been worse. Still, three days later he rose again from the grave for the current pushed him onward, the darkness could not overwhelm him, his light would not be extinguished, even by death. So, if you feel it as we all feel it. If you feel that deep darkness that was Job’s; that shadow which grows and makes you feel like you’re soon to vanish, hold on. Hold on a while longer and see where the current takes you. Hold on a while longer, and watch, for the light will not go out, and you will never vanish from his sight. Amen.