Reflection on Luke 21:25-36

 

The man had not talked to anyone in years…not in any meaningful way in any case.  Sure, he said the obligatory “hellos” and “thank yous” required while shopping, but other than that he was content to live alone in his house.  What did other people do in the world?  He did not really know, or care. 

I guess you could say that he was alone, but after so many years he really did not feel alone.  What is loneliness anyway?  It had been over twenty years since his wife left him through a car accident, and it had been over twenty years since he touched another person.  Did he miss it?  How would you know after twenty years?  Being alone had simply become a way of life. 

In church we remind each other on a regular basis that God is not absent, that God is at work out there, and we would see it if only we had the right eyes: the eyes of faith.  The man did not have these eyes.  From the confines of this house he could see very little.

And then, the flood hit. 

Like a tin can that is forced opened on both sides, the surge of rushing water completely opened up the lower floor of his home.  After the initial rush of water had passed, he wandered the lower floor of his home in a daze.  His television was gone.  Somehow, this made him feel, alone.  All of his books had washed out.  There would be no more adventures and no more characters to which he could relate.  He was alone. 

Unexpected tears filled the man’s eyes.  The man sobbed over the loss of his books.  The man wailed at the loss of his television of all things.  And, and quite unexpectedly, the man grieved his wife.  She was not here.  No one was here.

Watching the tears patter on the water around his feet, he suddenly felt a warm touch on his hand.

“Sir, we have to get you out of here,” the woman said kindly.  Her warm hand guided him outside, though the opening in the wall of his living room.  Jesus had come.  As he held the hand of the woman, and as they waded through the water, he could not help but see that Jesus had come.  The body of Jesus Christ had arrived in that warm touch.  Jesus has come, riding in on the clouds of that storm. 

Maybe, he was not so alone after-all? 

It was true, all that the man had, was now gone.  It had passed away.  But, for this man, the storm was not an end to his story; rather, it was the beginning of a new one…one in which he was no longer alone.  Jesus had come to him through the storm.

As I was sitting and pondering this promise: that Jesus is present in the storms of life.  And, as my mind wandered, as it often does, I remembered an unremarkable experiment that every little kid eventually tries. 

Imagine a three year old, squatting down by some moving water (maybe by a creek or at the ocean).  And now imagine that he takes a pile of sand and piles it up on a rock that is partially submerged in the rushing water.  What happens? 

It is a simple experiment, I know, and what happens is obvious: the water rushes by and slowly erodes the sand, bit by bit, until all that is left is the rock.  Little three year olds will do this again and again, confirming the hypothesis that the water will take away the sand bit by bit, but not the rock.  Now, why in the world was I wasting time remembering this simple little experiment?  Because, though it is simple, I am not certain that we always trust the result.

Jesus says this, "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see the storms taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”  “Heaven and earth can be washed away bit by bit, but my words are a boulder,” Jesus teaches.  The more the cloudy mounds of sand are washed away, the clearer you can see the care, love, and grace of Jesus.  When the walls that have closed you in, finally wash away, then maybe you will finally be able to feel Jesus’ warm hand on yours. 

The promise of Jesus, to always be our rock of power and love, does not wash away.  So, stand up straight with your head held high and face the storm directly.  Have hope, Jesus is here!

It is easy to preach, “Face the storm,” but it is quite another to actually do it.  If the rain starts to pour, I have no problem taking another stroll through the aisles of the grocery store.  And, a little more to the point, when the rains of life start to pour, I have no problem hiding away in the walls of my home under the warmth of my blanket.

You know what I mean?  We have been through a lot these past couple of years, and I have seen the very real human need to take shelter against the chaos of the world play out again and again.  There is so much to fear.  There are so many rocks breaking apart throughout the world.  Deaths are on our minds.  The way things used to be seems to be gone for good.  Churches are not rebounding, but the virus is.  Families are torn apart by politics in ways they had not been before.  Divorces threaten families that have already suffered so much strain.  Homelessness threatens ever younger and younger people as drugs and alcohol present themselves as a shelter to the weary parents.  Children face bullies in school and online.  They cannot find a safe shelter. 

And, to top it all off, the over-burdensome expectations of Christmas are coming!  Hurray!  It is all one huge mess of a storm, and it threatens to wash us all away.

“Is this the end of the world?” I was asked again this week as the individual considered hunkering down.  I get asked this a lot lately.  The writer of Luke got asked this a lot by his church as they considered hunkering down and disappearing from sight.  And, as he pondered his response, I cannot help but wonder if he thought of that early sand, water, and rock experiment that we do as three-year-olds.  And, when thinking of that experiment, I wonder if Jesus’ Spirit filled him until he shouted out Jesus’ promise to the world, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

“Wars can threaten to destroy; divorce can tear people apart; waters can rip through houses; storms can rip away; churches  buildings can disappear; earth can be moved until it is no more; pandemics can rage and kill, all can be washed away, but my words of care, love, and grace will remain.  I will remain,” Jesus declares in the face of the storm.  Even pain, and tears, and death itself will pass away, but Jesus’ promise will never pass away.  Crosses will always be overcome.  Jesus is our rock.

And, warm hands of the members of the body of Christ will always be there to guide people away from the rubble.  People of God, Jesus instructs you to raise your heads high.  Do not stare at the destruction.  Rather, look for the Lord.  Look through the clouds, for your salvation is here.  Look and see that your rock has not moved.  Be the one to look up, because when you do, you will see the truth and you will share the truth with a hurting world: the Lord is here. Raise up your heads!