Just a reminder that we worship today at Doon Presbyterian Church,35 Roos St. Kitchener, Ontario N2P 2B9
We hope you can make it out for a wonderful celebration, but just in case you can't, know that Doon will be livestreaming the service on their web site: https://doonpc.com/
Doon, July 13, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
Acts 27:13-14, 18-38, Psalm 25:1-10, Colossians 1:1-14, Luke 10:25-37
The sailors have been fighting a ceaseless battle against the wind and the waves for two full weeks. Caught in a storm of change, they have been unable to escape the power of its winds that have driven them at an unrelenting pace. And the crisis that the church is facing is so dire that they have worked themselves into utter exhaustion. They have not even been able to eat properly, and the lack of sustenance has caused them to become mean and irritable with one another.
They have also been making hard choices. They have had to do whatever they can just to keep the church afloat. They’ve already had to sacrifice the ship’s tackle and gear, those items that are supposed to be used to give the ship purpose and direction. They have had to throw these things overboard, sacrificing it all just in order to gain a little bit more buoyancy so that the ship does not go under.
And, after fourteen days of this, of course they are all feeling discouraged and fearful for the survival of their “boat.” They may just feel ready to give up altogether. That is where we find ourselves in our reading this morning from the Book of Acts.
And I know I what you’re thinking. “Okay, Scott, we get it. You don’t need to hit us over the head with such a heavy-handed metaphor. The ship is a traditional symbol of the church. The storm represents the tumultuous times of change that we are living through. The tackle thrown overboard is our vision which gets dumped when we’re afraid for our survival. And we are the poor overworked sailors who are getting irritable because we are spiritually malnourished. We get it! But do you really have to read our specific situation into every story you find in the Bible?”
Ah, but you don’t understand me. It is not me who is putting the struggles we are facing into this story, I am convinced that the author of this passage has given us no choice but to take this story and apply it directly to the life of the church, and that is because of what happens on the fourteenth day.
On the fourteenth day of the storm, there is a sudden break in the weather. The storm clouds have not disappeared. They still surround them on every horizon, dark and menacing. But, for a few moments, the sky directly overhead clears, the winds slack off a bit, and people get a few moments to breathe.
It makes me wonder whether they may have actually been caught in a hurricane and have just come into the eye of the storm, which may seem like a place of safety. But any experienced sailor knows that it is not. But whatever has caused this, it is a moment of much-needed calm.
And during this calm, something extraordinary happens. A man steps forward. As he stands before them, one pure ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds and falls directly on his bald head. The entire crew looks toward him in surprise and wonder. And he speaks to them words of comfort and encouragement – words of life when all that surrounds them is death.
And then he takes a loaf of bread and, giving thanks to God, he lifts it up and breaks it before them. And he eats a mouthful as they watch. And then, one by one, the sailors and the passengers on the boat come forward, and they take a piece of bread and eat and find comfort and strength.
Oh come on! Are you trying to tell me that we are not supposed to recognize what just happened as a church service? We just had a sermon and communion! At the time that this Book of Acts was written, the earliest rituals of worship and communion were already established. The first readers would have immediately recognized it, and so should we.
And so, there is no question in my mind that the writer of the Book of Acts (traditionally called Luke) intentionally told this story in order to say something about the challenges facing the church in his own day. And if it spoke to the challenges that the early church faced, it surely speaks to the challenges that we face.
It is not hard to compare the situation of the church today to a storm. The winds of change that are whipping around all of our churches are many, and they are blowing strong. There are societal shifts and demographic shifts. We are facing a crisis in clergy leadership – both in terms of finding them and in terms of paying them. And I’m sure we could go on.
Let’s be clear here – this is not new. The church has been in the storm many times before in its long history. As I say, the author of the Acts presents this story as being about the church in his day, but it has happened again and again.
Every storm is different, and each brings its unique challenges, but the messages and the promises that speak to Paul’s storm continue to speak to the church just as clearly as we face our contemporary storm.
So, what are the messages to the church that we need to pay attention to in this story today? I’m going to start with the one that people might want to point to to say that this story is not actually about the church. There is the simple fact that the boat in this story is actually not full of Christians.
Paul is on this ship because he is a prisoner who is being transferred to Rome. It is never explicitly said, but it does seem like he has a few companions with him. One of them is even telling the story using the first-person plural – “we” did this and this happened to “us.” But there is no explanation for why Paul would have been allowed to bring friends with him, and it really doesn’t make much sense that he would have.
But clearly, even if there are a few Christians, everyone else on the ship is a pagan. There are soldiers, other prisoners, sailors and other people who have bought passage. So, when everyone gathers on the deck of the ship in the eye of the storm, this can’t be a church gathering, can it?
Well, of course it can! This is one of the most powerful misconceptions that we have about the church. We assume that the church exists for the sake of Christians. But it doesn't. The church exists for the sake of those who are not part of it, or, at the very least, for those who are not yet part of it.
And as Paul took that loaf of bread and broke it, he did not do it only to feed his companions. He knew that their small presence on the ship would mean nothing unless it also brought strength, hope and meaning to the lives of everyone on board.
Paul and his few companions are therefore a metaphor for how a small church can have a big impact on the whole society. And that continues to be the mission of the church to the whole world, even if we are in the midst of a storm.
Another odd thing about this whole story is the important role that Paul plays. He is only a prisoner and should have no status on the ship. And yet again and again throughout this story, we see him taking on a leadership role. He gives opinions about when and where to sail. He tells the captain and the centurion what to do at various points. And, of course, he even gathers the entire ship’s complement to address them.
This all makes little sense from an historical perspective, of course. Why would a prisoner be given any sort of status in that situation? But again, I think there is a message in that for us in the church today.
There was a time – and many of us remember it – when the church was given automatic respect and deference in our society. But today, thanks to numerous church scandals in most denominations and the spiritual diversity of society, we no longer get that. And we often conclude, because of that, that we are now irrelevant and can have no impact on society.
But Paul’s importance on that ship, despite having no status or position, is a message for the church today. If we, like Paul, can dare to stand up and speak in words of hope and purpose into situations where people are lost and despairing, we will earn that relevance and voice that is no longer given to us automatically.
During the storm, there is an odd incident where Paul particularly steps up in leadership. “The sailors tried to escape from the ship and had lowered the boat into the sea on the pretext of putting out anchors from the bow,” it says.
And this, many readers have noticed, really makes no sense at all. The sailors are not acting rationally. If the bigger ship is in danger of sinking or capsizing in the storm, there is absolutely no way that even the most experienced sailor is going to survive in a rowboat.
It makes no sense, therefore, that the sailors would have done that, but that is exactly the kind of nonsensical thinking that we fall into far too easily in the church these days. As soon as the waters get rough, we start to think only about our own little lifeboat. We huddle in together and concentrate on bailing. We even make the ridiculous assumption that, if we just let all the other lifeboats go down, ours will become miraculously more buoyant.
But it just doesn’t work like that when you’re caught in the storm. As Paul insists, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” If we stay isolated in our own lifeboats, the storm will overtake us. But Paul speaks to offer us hope. If we all work together, we will be able to thrive.
There is one particular thing that we need to understand about the hope that Paul offers to us today, though. He is very specific about it. At another point, he addresses the ship’s company to explain exactly what God is committed to preserving.
“Men,” he proclaims, “you should have listened to me and not have set sail from Crete and thereby avoided this damage and loss.” Yes, Paul actually got up and said, “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.” And we usually say things like that to make ourselves feel good and to put other people down.
But Paul actually says this for very different reason. He is about to give them good and hopeful news. “I urge you now to keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among you.” But he also wants them to understand that this salvation is not because they have done the right thing. They have made the wrong decision again and again. But he is telling them that God will save them anyway.
And God will save us. We may make the wrong decisions in our churches. We may foolishly act in self-centred and self-serving ways. We may let our pride or fear guide us rather than our trust and our faith. But God is faithful. God is committed to you and you and you as believers and will not fail you. God is committed to us as the church, the body of Christ. God will save you and not just in the next life but in this one.
But – and yes, Paul adds a but. “There will be no loss of life among you,” he continues, “but only of the ship.” And I will leave it to you to reflect on what the ship represents in our present context. As the story continues, what Paul predicts comes true as various parts of the ship – the tackle and ropes, the lifeboats, its precious cargo of grain – are jettisoned one by one. Finally, the ship itself is broken apart when it runs aground at Malta.
What might we have to jettison in the present storm – what traditions, independence, how many “we’ve always done it that ways” will have to go overboard? I don’t know. But we will have to remain open to all of that. And will some or even all of our physical structures be broken up on the reefs of the Island of Malta? I cannot say.
All of what may come may be traumatic, but do not doubt for one minute God’s promises to you – both to you individually, but also to you as the church, the gathered people of God. If you trust in midst of the storm, not one of you will perish.
Once all those pagans on that ship had eaten the broken bread with Paul, they found the courage to hope and to do what needed to be done. “After they had satisfied their hunger, they lightened the ship by throwing the wheat into the sea.”
And so, I invite you now. I found this bread in the hold of the ship downstairs this morning. The storm has been raging, and you have been in suspense and lacking sufficient spiritual nourishment for some time now. Therefore, I urge you to take some food, for it will help you survive, for none of you will lose a hair from your heads. Thanks be to God who will always provide what we need most.
Hespeler June 29, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Third Sunday after Pentecost
1 Kings 19:15-21, Psalm 16, Galatians 5:1, 13-25, Luke 9:51-62
Of all the time management tools that I have ever tried, the one that I can never quite get a handle on is the to-do list. The time management gurus will tell you that this is the great tool, the tool that will set you free. You just create a list of all the things that you have to get done, breaking them up into the smallest steps, and you put one of those infernal check boxes to the side of each one.
It’s motivational, they say. Every time you finish one small task you get to check off the box and you feel this little endorphin boost and it makes you feel like you have the energy you need to tackle the next one.
It doesn’t really work for me. When I make the list, I am much more likely to feel overwhelmed than motivated. It reminds me more of what I haven’t done than it makes me think of what I could do. And making and maintaining the list itself just feels to me as if I am adding another task to the ones that I already have too many of.
But that is just me. Maybe they do work better for you; in fact, I hope that they do. But as one of the to-do list challenged people of this world, I am just glad to know, in our reading from 1 Kings this morning, that I am not alone.
Last week we read the story of how the Prophet Elijah went through a major crisis. In a moment of great emergency and danger he performed one of the most amazing feats of running away in the history of running away. He ran away from Queen Jezebel who had threatened his life and he ran all the way from Samaria to Mount Horeb. That is an incredible distance of over 600 km. It would normally take someone walking at a reasonable pace about 18 days.
He was running because he didn’t know how to respond to the crisis. He went to Mount Horeb, that place where God had appeared to Moses, because he clearly wanted God to tell him what to do. And, in our reading this morning, God actually does that. God appears to Elijah in the midst of the sound of sheer silence and gives him a to-do list.
The list is mercifully short. There are only three check boxes. He is to anoint Hazael as king over Aram, anoint Jehu as king over Israel and anoint Elisha as prophet in his own place. And that really seems like a wonderful thing that God does for Elijah, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t you love to receive a clear and concise list like that directly from God? Wouldn’t you love to know with absolute clarity what you needed to do in order to obey God?
But here is the thing that has always puzzled me about this story. Of those three simple tasks, the Bible tells us that Elijah only ticked off one to-do box. We read the story this morning of how he called Elisha to be his disciple. He didn’t literally anoint him with oil, but he definitely called him. So the final item is checked off the list.
But what about the other two? Well, that is quite the story. You see in both of those cases, the person to be anointed was someone serving a ruling king as a subordinate. They were not the heirs. They hadn’t been chosen to succeed the previous king. In both cases they killed the ruling monarch. So, what God is telling Elijah to do is engineer a coup by telling these men that they can become kings of their countries.
God is telling Elijah to meddle in the politics of two nations – his own and its biggest neighbour. What’s more, he is being told to do it in the most disruptive and destructive way imaginable. This will lead to endless death and violence, as God admits by summing up, “Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill, and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill.”
Can you imagine such a thing today? Can you imagine one country deciding to bomb another in order to bring about regime change? Even worse, can you imagine a Canadian Christian clergy person going to Federal Cabinet Minister Chrystia Freeland and telling her that, if she were to mount a violent coup to take out Prime Minister Carney, that God would be with her and she would succeed? Can you imagine that preacher then going to US Secretary of State Marco Rubio and telling him to do the same thing to Trump?
Of course not! That would be madness! That would be seen as an unacceptable intrusion of religion into politics. And it is a disturbing reflection of the deeply troubling times that we are living in that I actually wouldn’t be surprised if we did see something like that happen (at least in the U.S) before the end of this year?
But that is the disturbing idea that is raised in this story – this idea of people of faith intervening in the world of politics and not even to try to make things better. God is not asking Elijah to advocate for laws and politicians that he supports – that would be one thing and not necessarily a bad thing if done appropriately.
No, this is about people of faith intervening in order to stir things up and cause violence and chaos. This is about disrupting the entire system in the hope that maybe, once the dust settles, there might be a chance of building a better system from the ground up.
And yet, even as I say that, I realize that there are at least some Christians in our world today who are rooting for exactly that. They are hoping that the latest troubles in the Middle East or Iran or on the streets of Los Angeles blow up into World War III so that the world comes to an end and Jesus can return. And, once again, it is a symptom of the times that we are living in that that seems somewhat possible these days.
In any case, that is what is at stake in the to-do list that God gives to Elijah. And if Elijah were to have followed through on two of those bullet points, I think I would be troubled by that. I would wonder how we are supposed to apply that to our modern Christian lives and particularly what it would say about how we are to live as people of faith in such troubling political times.
But, as I say, Elijah didn’t do it. We know that he didn’t do it because we are told, later on in the Second Book of Kings, that other people engineered those coups, and they did so after Elijah was gone. Jehu was anointed by an unnamed prophet sent by Elisha in the ninth chapter of 2 Kings. (9:1-13) And Elisha himself provoked Hazael to rebel against his master in the eighth chapter. (2 Kings 8:7-15)
And you may say, “Big deal. So what if Elijah didn’t do the anointing himself and it didn’t happen for a while. It still happened, which means that God is still in control. Who cares if there is a little glitch in the text and that Elijah doesn’t complete his to-do list?”
Well, I care. As I have said many times, I don’t believe in glitches in the text. Sure, sometimes there may be contradictions and plot holes and historical errors, but I have accepted that this is a book inspired by God, which means that I have to struggle with all of those things and try to find the message in those things for us.
And I think there is a message for us in Elijah’s to-do list failure, and it is a message that is particularly helpful for these tumultuous times in which we find ourselves.
For one thing, anyway, I’ve got to admit that I really appreciate Elijah’s hesitancy to wade into such disruptive political acts. There is a long history of the Christian faith that has demonstrated again and again that some very terrible things can result when that line between politics and religion is breached.
Many of the worst abuses of power, the massacres and the atrocities that nations have carried out in their history have occurred when political leaders took their cue from religious leaders. I think we should definitely hesitate to open the door to such possibilities again. And yet, there is always the question of how to balance that hesitancy against the demands of living faithfully.
It was 76 years ago that the Presbyterian Church in Canada wrestled with this problem. At that time, the church produced a document called the Declaration of Faith Concerning Church and Nation. (Click to download)
This was produced at a time when our denomination still had a fair bit of political influence in this country. At that very moment, we were enthusiastically participating in the government program of Residential Schools for indigenous children – something that the church saw as greatly benefiting itself at the expense, as we have since been made abundantly aware, of the welfare of the indigenous nations and people.
And yet, this document wisely counselled that the church must approach such things with care. “Christians must always do their utmost to honour the civil laws, and to fulfil all statutory obligations whether financial or personal, as unto Christ the Head. Nevertheless, no citizen is thereby relieved of his constant responsibility to work for the remedy of any unjust statute, or iniquitous assessment, or violation of conscience.”
That statement is still considered to be so important that, when ministers and elders are ordained, we accept this document as one of our standards. And I do not think we should forget it because it can be so hard to sort out that tension between supporting the state and advocating for what is right and just within the state.
And so, yes, let us continue to hesitate to jump on in, let us always be ready to give sober and careful thought as this document shows us. I have actually printed a few copies of the document. It isn’t long and you should read it if you haven’t.
So, I do appreciate Elijah’s hesitance. Of course, none of that ultimately stops the kind of disruption that God seems to be calling for from occurring. The men did eventually get anointed with all of the negative and violent consequences that came with that. I see a message in that as well.
The reality of this world seems to be that these kinds of disruptions do occur. We may do everything that we can to make sure that we set up good and just systems. But no political system is perfect.
Cracks will begin to form sooner or later, especially when there are big disparities in wealth and power in a society. Those who have a lot tend to create rules that will get them even more while those who have not increasingly feel that they can no longer succeed without breaking the rules.
One way or another, whatever order is created in this world will break down sooner or later. And I don’t necessarily want to be the one making predictions here, but it does seem that we are moving into such a time. And I think that God giving these disruptive to-dos to Elijah, even if Elijah himself does not follow through on them, is a way of saying that we cannot completely avoid this kind of turmoil in life.
Yes, let’s do whatever we can to find other ways to bring about positive change. But also take comfort from knowing that, even in the major disruptions that sometimes erupt in this world, God can be at work.
In the end, Elijah is put in a difficult spot when he encounters God at Mount Horeb. God seems to be saying that they are coming to a moment when the only way of acting is in this disruptive political way. I am glad that Elijah hesitates to do that. I hesitate too.
But let us also take some wisdom from the to-do that Elijah actually follows through on. He calls Elisha as his disciple. He chooses, in other words, to enter into partnership and community. He finds someone who he can support and who can support him. That creation of solidarity is always the right thing to do. And if we can build our coalitions of those who are committed to God’s justice in this often-unjust world, we will be well placed, no matter what difficult times may come.
Hespeler, June 22, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Second Sunday after Pentecost
1 Kings 19:1-15, Psalm 42, Galatians 3:23-29, Luke 8:26-39
How would you react in an emergency situation? Would you know what to do when the alarms went off? For some strange reason, one that I can’t quite put my finger on, that was a question that was very much on my mind as I prepared for this morning’s service. It is an important question. Emergencies are situations that naturally provoke confusion, panic and fear. When those sorts of emotions are in play, it can be very easy to react in the wrong way.
And that can be a big problem because emergencies, by definition, happen when you don’t expect them. Why, one could even break out amid a Sunday morning worship service. And that is, of course, why we sometimes carry out drills so that people can work out how they will react before the emergency occurs. But the reality is that we may never know how we will react until we find ourselves in the actual situation.
The prophet Elijah had been feeling pretty good about his accomplishments lately. He had engineered a confrontation with the prophets of the god Baal, and he had beaten them at their own game. He had pressed his advantage and led the people as they attacked and slaughtered the priests of the foreign god.
But his good mood was suddenly destroyed when a messenger arrived from Queen Jezebel, who was a patron of the god. It was short and to the point. “So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.”
As you can imagine, that set off immediate alarm bells in Elijah’s head. Honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He had been the first to resort to violence. It shouldn’t have been unexpected that violence might be turned back against him. But there is a great difference between thinking that there might be some consequence and having that consequence suddenly spelled out for you in such stark terms. This was not a drill!
And how did Elijah react? Not particularly well. He was filled with confusion, fear and panic. These emotions immediately triggered that part of his brain that makes us react to danger with either fight or flight. And which option did Elijah take? “Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there.” And let’s recognize that reaction for what it is. Not only did Elijah run away, he fled the country. Beer-sheba is about as far as you can go from the Kingdom of Israel without leaving civilization altogether. And, of course, he was not yet finished running.
Now, let’s be clear here. Flight is absolutely an appropriate response to a dangerous situation. It is often the best thing to do. When the building is on fire, yes, you should get out. But how you do that is also important. Unhelpful reactions like panic and disorderliness can make the whole situation worse. The worst outcomes often take place because people do not flee the scene in an orderly and calm manner.
So, let us not judge Elijah for running away. But let’s take a critical look at how he ran because we might well learn something that will help us to deal with the crises and emergencies that we encounter in our lives.
Here is the first thing I notice about how he responded that is often problematic for us as well. “But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree.” Here we see Elijah isolating himself, and how many times have you seen people respond like that when things go wrong?
For many people, their automatic response when anything happens that makes them feel vulnerable is to cut themselves off from anyone who might give them support or help. They are afraid, perhaps, that other people might see them struggling, that they might appear to be something other than self-sufficient. The very idea that they might need help from somebody else seems even more intolerable than anything else in the situation.
I understand where the temptation comes from, of course, but it only makes a bad situation worse. We human beings were made to live together in community. We were made to need each other. And you only make things worse when you isolate yourself because things have gone wrong.
Not surprisingly, therefore, when Elijah isolated himself, things immediately began to spiral for him. He fell into a deep depression. “He asked that he might die, ‘It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.’”
And, yes, depression is always a danger when we go through difficult times. But I think that there is also a lesson for us in how he handles his situational depression. Sometimes we may be tempted to bottle up all of those negative feelings inside – to hide them from others, from God or even from ourselves. We think that not expressing it all is a way of being strong and faithful. But that is a big mistake.
Holding it in can make it rot and fester, and that is what makes those feelings toxic. That is what can turn situational depression into endless cycles of inescapable depression. And so, take note of how Elijah let his feelings out. He didn’t hesitate to express them to God.
And I know some who struggle with that. They think that expressing their gripes to God means that they have lost all faith.
If you ever think that, remember the example of Elijah. Remember the example of the psalmist who wrote that incredible psalm of lament that we read together this morning. Do not be afraid to express your negative emotions to God. God will always appreciate your honesty. What’s more, God’s feelings are far from fragile enough that you could hurt them with a genuine display of your emotions.
Now, we finally come to the biggest question of all that people face when things go wrong in this world. Where is God in the middle of the disaster? I constantly talk with people who ask why God allowed this disaster to happen or that disaster to take place. They seem to think that, if they can only find some divine meaning or purpose in it, everything will be all right.
But, as Elijah’s story of emergency preparedness continues, I think we might get a different perspective on that obsession. He continued his journey of escape and finally came to a mountain called Horeb. This is a very significant location, of course, because it is the very place where Moses met with God and received the Law. It is also known, in some of the accounts, as Mount Sinai.
So, the prophet had come to the ideal place to answer the question of where God is in the midst of all the terrible events and disasters of life. But let us see how God answered his question. God told Elijah that he was about to pass by him, that he was to stand out on this mountain of God, and he would finally understand.
And what happened next is crazy. While Elijah stood there, three of the worst disasters that you can imagine passed by. First, he was assailed by a gale-force wind – the kind of wind that destroys whole cities in tornadoes and hurricanes. Next, there was an earthquake, which can be even more destructive. Finally, there was a fire, an emergency so devastating that we actually run drills to prepare for one, all while we fervently hope that we never have to actually deal with one.
So we have the three most stereotypical disasters that you could imagine. Surely we will now get the answer to the question, where is God when disaster strikes? Except that’s not quite the answer that we get, is it? Was God in the wind? No. Was God in the earthquake? No. Was God in the Fire? No! In each case, we are told that God was not.
Now, there are some things that we shouldn’t read into that. That does not mean that God is absent when we are going through trials. For one thing, we believe in an omnipresent God – that there is no place in this world where God is not. It also doesn’t mean that God is not there with us when we go through difficult times. On the contrary, people of faith often find that it is at such times that God actually joins us in our suffering, comforting and sustaining us when things are at their worst.
No, what I think this story is saying is that we may not always find an answer to that perplexing question of why from God in the midst of the wind, the earthquake or the fire. In fact, we may never get that answer that we often crave. That doesn’t mean there is no answer or that God doesn’t have a plan; it just means that such an answer may not be given to us.
And I think that God is telling Elijah and us that that is okay. Not knowing the answer is okay. The wind, the earthquake and the fire may not give you any sort of answer when you are in the midst of them. After all, disasters often overwhelm us so completely that all we can do is react. There may not even be time to think, much less come to a deeper understanding of why bad things happen.
You may not find God amidst the disaster. That doesn’t mean God isn’t there, and the story of Elijah shows us how we can become aware of that presence.
Where, then, did Elijah encounter God if not in the wind, earthquake or fire? “And after the fire [there came] a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.” And it quickly becomes clear that it is in that silence that God met with Elijah.
And there is certainly a message for you in that – a lesson on how to navigate the disasters of life: you will find God in the silence. And that doesn’t just mean that, after the storm has passed, you will be able to look back on it and discover what lessons you were meant to learn from it or what new strength you have gained by surviving it, though that certainly does happen sometimes.
But silence, you see, isn’t just something that sometimes happens to you. It is a practice that you can cultivate in yourself and that you can bring with you into any circumstance – even into the wind, earthquake and fire. By cultivating silence, through practices like prayer, meditation and contemplation, you can make it possible for the voice of God – which is always present, which is always seeking to lift you up and walk with you through the wind, earthquake and fire – to break through to you and you will know he is there.
As a result of our little drill here today, I do hope you will leave with a better understanding of what you ought to do should an emergency ever arise in a setting such as this. That is some pretty good, useful information to take away with you.
But perhaps the story of Elijah and how he came to terms with his “not-a-drill” situation can do even more to set your heart at ease. This story teaches us how our ongoing relationship with God equips us with resilience to face the ups and downs and challenges that do unexpectedly come into our lives from time to time.
And may you also resolve – each one of you – to build silence into your lives. It is something that everyone can do. Learn about mediation techniques, which are indeed ancient Christian practices. Make a point of finding times to turn off the noise in your life and your brain, which never stops. You might be surprised to discover just how near God has been all along.
Hespeler, June 15, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Trinity Sunday
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31, Psalm 8, Romans 5:1-5, John 16:12-15
Jesus had a very particular way of talking about God. His favourite way to refer to God was to call God Father. He was hardly the first person to speak of God that way, but there was something special about the way he used the word. It was central to his teaching about God. Why else would he so specifically teach his disciples to pray saying, “Our Father,” you know, the one who “art in heaven”?
The word should not be taken literally. Like all language about God, it is a metaphor. Everybody understood that Jesus wasn’t literally saying that God was the biological father of every human being. Nor was he saying anything about God’s gender or genitalia. He was saying that the experience of God can be like the experience you might have with a human father.
Christian doctrine teaches many things about Jesus. One of the things that it teaches is that he was fully divine. It also teaches that he was fully human and leaves us to sort out the mystery of how both of those things could be true.
Father is an utterly human metaphor. Most every human being who has lived has had an experience of father. And yes, in some cases those may have been bad experiences or simply the experience of the absence of a father, but it is one common experience that we all share. The word means something to all of us.
But it is a deeply personal meaning. When I use the word father, it is associated all kinds of memories, emotions and experiences that I had of my own father. When you say it, it may be based on a whole different set of experiences. Since no human father is perfect, those experiences tend to be a mix of both positive and negative.
When I call God Father, I know that I have an image of God that has been affected by my experience of my father. And I do have an overall positive view of God, which I know has a lot to do with the fact that I had a good dad. In many ways, that experience has influenced my view of God more than any theological concepts or scriptural interpretations I may believe in.
And that made me think. If the metaphor of Father was so central to Jesus’ view of God, what were the very human experiences that gave meaning to that human metaphor for him? Jesus had a father. And I know that the nativity stories insist that Joseph wasn’t his biological father, but that doesn’t matter. Anyone who has had a beloved stepfather or someone else who has stepped into that key role in their life knows very well that biology is not always what makes someone a father.
And so, how could Jesus, fully human as he was, not give a thought to Joseph and what Joseph had done for him every time he spoke of God as Father? More than theology, Jesus’ thoughts about his heavenly Father had to be deeply connected to his human experience of Joseph.
And so, I was thinking. What was it about Joseph and his relationship to his extraordinary son that contributed to Jesus’ understanding of his God? What attributes of Joseph did Jesus associate with his God? And what was he trying to communicate to his followers with that word?
We are told very little about Jesus’ relationship with Joseph. In fact, Joseph is nowhere present in the gospels apart from the nativity stories. He is not even named in the Gospel of Mark.
Here is what we do know. We are told that Joseph was a carpenter, that he lived in Nazareth of Galilee, and that he had a heritage down in Bethlehem in Judea.
And we should probably not think of that word carpenter like we might think of a professional craftsperson. If Joseph was a refugee from Judea living in a tiny place like Nazareth, he wouldn’t have had a carpenter’s shop. Chances are that he was working as a day labourer on construction sites and he probably had to travel to get that work. So, we really don’t know much. But I think there is a story there.
Jesus' very first memory of his father was him leaving. Joseph would go far away for work. He would often leave at first light on Sunday mornings and Jesus’ mother would get him up and dressed so that he could say goodbye. He would always hold his father so tight, almost as if he was hoping that if he could hold him tight enough, he wouldn’t have to go.
And when he was old enough, Jesus remembered putting his feelings into words and asking Joseph why he had to go. And Joseph got right down on his knees in front of his son and spoke to him as an equal.
“Your Abba has important work to do,” he said.
“You mean,” Jesus wanted to know, “you have to build important palaces and walls for the king in the big city?”
“Well, not really,” Joseph smiled. “I mean, sure, I do get some work on some of the king’s worksites, but his plans for his big, beautiful city are not what are important to me. I go because it is the only way that I know how to earn enough money to make sure that you and your mother and your little brothers and sisters have what you need to live. You are my important work.”
Joseph would go, often for four or five days at a time, and Jesus would wait impatiently for his return. As the days went by, he would stare more frequently towards the distant city, hoping to see Joseph trudging towards home.
When he would spy him coming, he would immediately drop whatever he was doing and run towards him shrieking with delight. He would never forget the smell of his weary father coming home – a mixture of sweat and sawdust and several layers of dirt and grime on his skin. It was the most beautiful smell in all the world.
And, though Joseph always came home exhausted, he would still take the time to sit with Jesus and tell him stories of everything that had happened while he was gone. Jesus would listen in rapt attention. From his childhood, he always loved stories.
As Jesus grew, the day came when he was finally old enough to join his father in the work. He was still young – no hair had yet sprouted on his chin – but he knew that anything he could do to contribute to the household would make a big difference for the growing family.
He had heard his father’s stories so many times that nothing that happened on his first trip to the city really surprised him. But it was still quite different to experience it himself. They arrived early in the morning and went to the marketplace to sit and wait for someone to come and hire workers for the day.
They would come in dressed in their good robes – architects and master builders, masons and quartermasters – and they would call out how many people they were looking for to work on their sites for that day. The men would line up to be inspected with a critical eye.
At first, as you can imagine, they hesitated to hire Jesus. Too young, too small. Joseph had to insist at first that he would not go to any worksite without his son. And that usually persuaded them, for everyone knew that Joseph was a good worker.
Jesus spent many days working alongside his father. They were always golden days when he remembered them, even though the work was exhausting and the hours long. His father taught him everything from the use of simple tools to the most efficient ways of shifting heavy boulders and piles of wood.
That was how their life went for years. Always on the move, going wherever the work was to be found. Sometimes, for several days at a time, there was no work to be had. Those were hard times and Jesus, a young and growing boy, might have grumbled at being hungry, but his father encouraged him, “Ask, and it will be given to you;” son, “search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” (Matthew 7:7)
And he meant it literally. They would pray and ask God for what they needed. They would also not hesitate to ask for hospitality or to knock on a door they were passing. Jesus was constantly amazed how kind and generous people could be, even when they did not have much themselves.
And, of course, Joseph also demonstrated an equal willingness to share. Whenever he had anything to spare, he would give to anyone who asked of him and do it joyfully. Of all the lessons that Jesus learned from his father, that was the one that drove deepest into his soul.
As time went by, the dynamic changed between the two of them. Jesus grew bigger and stronger and was more likely to be picked first when people were hiring. Meanwhile, Joseph grew slower. He was not old, at least not by our standards, but he had been wounded so many times in the work by falling stones and bad hammer blows that he bore many scars. The knuckles on his fingers had swollen and were slow to move and often caused him much pain.
But he was still a valued worker. His years of experience outweighed the limitations to his strength. The master masons who supervised the work never would have admitted it, but they often deferred to him when it came to judging whether a foundation was well laid or a structure stable enough. And so, Jesus continued to learn from his father about the importance of solid foundations and building well.
As the years went by, King Herod Antipas stopped his building projects in Sepphoris to build a new city called Tiberias on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. That meant that the labourers who lived in Nazareth, much closer to Sepphoris, had to travel further and be away longer than ever.
Joseph and his son didn’t have any choice – to Tiberias they went. Once they stayed there for ten straight days, pausing only from their work on the Sabbath. Towards the end, everyone had been working so hard for so many days, that they were all getting reckless and cutting corners.
Joseph noticed the flaw in the wall before anyone else did. And when Jesus heard his warning, he knew well enough not to hesitate. He dropped his tools and stepped back immediately, calling on the others around him to do likewise.
One young man was new to the work. He did not recognize the urgency or the wisdom in the old man’s voice. He continued with the task he had been given, fearful, perhaps, that he might not be paid for the day if he didn’t finish it.
It had been many years since Jesus had seen his father move so fast. He grasped the straggler and, with a strength that he had almost forgotten he once had, he bodily flung the young man out of the danger zone.
Unfortunately, having accomplished such a thing, Joseph had no reserves of strength or speed left to get himself to safety.
When they finally dug him out of the debris, Joseph was still breathing, but everyone understood that it would not be for long. As his son took his hand, Joseph used his final breaths to set Jesus on a course that would change history. He made him promise that he would not spend the rest of his life travelling from job to job, only to earn enough to get by.
“There is something special about you,” he gasped between ragged breaths. “I have always known it. You have been sent to announce a different kind of kingdom than the one that Herod is trying to build up. You must turn your heart fully to that work now.”
Jesus returned his father’s body to Nazareth. There he mourned him together with his mother and his brothers. But once the time of mourning was over, he headed out to the far side of the Jordan where he had heard a man named John was baptizing people.
But he never forgot his father. When, sometime later, he heard of a tower that collapsed in Siloam, killing eighteen (Luke 13:4-5), he remembered holding his dying father in his arms as if it had only just happened. Surely when he taught his followers that you should never blame the victims of such disasters for what happened to them – that they were no more worthy of destruction than anyone else – a few tears must have formed in his eyes.
When Jesus taught us to pray and say “Father,” he knew he was using a loaded term – that it came with all of the baggage that came with the role and expectations that were put upon a father in early first century Galilee. But surely it also carried a lot of personal baggage and many happy memories of a man who had played a role in making Jesus the man he became, at least in human terms.
I am very thankful for the positive view of God that I gained from my dealings with my father. I am sure that Jesus, whose essential humanity is central to Christian doctrine, would have said the same.
I know that word “father” is an emotionally loaded term for each one of us. I would encourage all of you to consider all of the ways in which all of that emotional baggage – good, bad or indifferent – has influenced your idea of God. But do not forget, our human experience of human fathers can never define or limit who God is.
Hespeler, June 8, 2025 © Scott McAndless – Day of Pentecost
Joshua 15:13-19, Acts 2:1-21, Psalm 104:24-34, 35b, John 14:8-17, 25-27
Two weeks ago, we began our discussions about our new identity, and you were introduced to two people that I call Ancient Israel’s first power couple, Achsah and Othniel. I told you that we needed to know about them because we are like them.
We are like them in our amalgamation, I said, because we too have come together in a somewhat rushed arranged marriage. But we are also like them in that God used them as a power couple to lead the people of God into a new era in a strange new land. That is absolutely what God is calling us to do right now.
And admit it, some of you wondered why I came up with these two biblical characters. Out of all the amazing characters in the Bible that everyone has heard of before, and people actually even know how to pronounce their names, why did I have to talk about this obscure couple?
But guess what, they are really not as obscure as you think. Two weeks ago, we read two passages about these people from the Book of Judges. This morning, we read an entirely different passage of scripture from a different book. And yet right there, once again, we were told the story of this same power couple.
And do you think that it is just a coincidence or an editing error that this story is told twice in two different biblical books? No, I don’t think so. I don’t believe in coincidences when I’m reading the scriptures. There is a message in this repetition, and it is a message for us and it is for us where we are today.
There is something else that God is calling to our attention. It is the secret of the success that this couple enjoyed in leading the people of Israel, and it is a secret that we need to reveal as we embrace the next phase in our life together.
But there is something you need to understand first though. In the Book of Joshua, the Bible tells the story of the emergence of the tribes in the land of Israel in a particular way. It is told as a conquest – something that I know people may find to be rather troubling. In fact, the invading tribes who are led by Joshua often engage in what would absolutely be called genocide today, wiping out entire tribes and peoples at once.
That is troubling – and it should be troubling! And it is doubly troubling when you realize that the story of Joshua’s conquest has also used to justify modern atrocities such as apartheid in South Africa, the treatment of indigenous people in Canada and all over the world, and the ongoing targeting of children, civilians and health infrastructure in Gaza. Again and again, people acting in the name of God have said, if Joshua did it, why can’t we do it too?
But here is the simple historical truth. The conquest, as told in the Book of Joshua, didn’t happen. The archaeological evidence is quite clear. The Israelites did not enter the land of Israel as a large group of outside invaders.
As far as we can tell, the Hebrew tribes had their origins in the hill country of what later came to be known as Israel. It was there that they learned to cooperate together and developed a common identity built around worshiping their common God. But they were not culturally very different from the Canaanite people who surrounded them.
Now there are some reasons, and very good reasons based on their experience with God, for why they came to see themselves as a former slave people who had escaped from Egypt. This was actually a very important part of their identity, and the stories pointed to the truth of that. But the stories of genocidal conquest were much more about understanding how they felt their God was calling them to live in relationship to the land than it was about what actually happened.
And it seems that they knew, as is often recognized in the scriptures, that they were not in the land as outside conquerors. There is regular acknowledgement that the tribes of Israel were living alongside “the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites,” and were intermarried with them and even joined them in worship. (See Judges 3:5-6)
And the story of Achsah and Othniel, told as it is in both the Book of Joshua (which is about a conquest), and in the Book of Judges (which is an alternate history of the people living alongside their Canaanite neighbours), offers us a unique way to look at the meaning of these alternate views of history.
Achsah and Othniel start out living in the tribe of Judah up in the hills of Judah and they then move out beyond that traditional territory. They represent the tribe spreading out their influence from the lands where they have been established for generations.
They move out to this place called Kiriath-sepher. Settling there is, in fact, what brings them together. And Kiriath-sepher is in a region called the Negeb. And the Negeb is, kind of famously, a very harsh desert.
If this power couple extended the tribe of Judah’s territory into such a forbidding place, they likely did not do so as violent conquerors. They came as partners working together with the people already settled there. They offered them the protection of being associated with the tribe of Judah and its mutual defence pact with the other Israelite tribes.
Now, I realize that ancient politics and military alliances don’t mean a lot to us today, so let me put this in terms that we can relate to. The Presbyterian Church in this area, has been established for a very long time. We celebrated our 150th anniversary as a national church just last week!
But it has become pretty clear in recent times that the church has become more isolated from the mainstream of society. We are like the tribes of Israel, isolated up in the hill country while the society around us has changed and diversified and grown.
And so God (who I guess is Caleb in this metaphor) is coming along and saying to the church, “Who will go out from the hill country where you have been comfortable and familiar? Who will take this message of good news and go out into the Negeb, where it is dry, and resources are scarce, and people are not feeling so secure?”
What’s more, God is saying specifically to us folk who were part of St. Andrew’s and Knox that, if we take on the challenge of living out the kingdom of God in the Negeb, God will give us a partner – a spouse if you wish – to go with us, so that together we will be stronger and more able to meet the needs of the people of the Negeb.
And the wonderful thing is that we have already responded to this challenge from God. I hope you recognize that, when we signed up for this amalgamation – this marriage – together, we accepted God’s challenge to go to the Negeb, to go outside of what is comfortable and familiar, to actually show the love of Christ to people who have lost contact with the churches in the hill country and who are struggling.
So that has all already been taken care of. The marriage of Achsah and Othniel has already taken place. So, you may well be asking why we have not yet left their story behind. Well, it is because these two people do something very important before they head off to take up their mission in the Negeb. They have a very important conversation.
“When [Achsah] came to [Othniel], she urged him to ask her father for a field.” What is she saying here? This is about resources. She is saying to her new husband that, if they are going to meet this challenge, they are going to need to know that they have what they need to make a success of it.
And the field she is thinking of is a very particular resource that is particularly fitting for where they are going. In fact, having spoken to her husband, Achsah doesn’t wait. She doesn’t hold endless congregational meetings and strategy sessions; she goes straight to the source, her father.
“As she dismounted from her donkey, Caleb said to her, ‘What do you wish?’” What a perfect picture of our God, who can’t even wait for us to get off our donkey, who is so eager to provide us with what we need to thrive that he can’t even wait for us to come inside and sit down to tea!
And Achsah knows exactly what she is going to ask for. “She said to him, ‘Give me a present; since you have set me in the land of the Negeb, give me springs of water as well.’” And so, we discover what sort of field she has in mind.
And, of course, what better resource to have access to if you want to take care of the needs of people in the desert than a steady and reliable supply of water. Caleb clearly approves of her request and immediately gives her not one field but two fields – both the upper springs and the lower springs.
Today we turn in our discussions to something that is absolutely key to the new identity that God is giving us as an amalgamated congregation – the question of how God has gifted us with what we need to minister in the Negeb. We take it for granted that God has called us together, that God is requiring us to step out of the familiar hill country and into the unfamiliar desert territory around us.
But if we are going to understand exactly what it is that God is calling us to do in the Negeb, we need to understand how God has uniquely gifted us for that ministry. God has provided, and will always provide for us, streams of living water. But God loves to use our unique gifts and talents in highly personalized ways.
So today, we are dismounting from our donkey and asking God, “If you have sent us to be the church in this challenging place and time, what particular springs of water have you given us and how can we employ them to bring life to a dry and desolate land?”
I do not mean to prejudice our discussions afterwards, so I won’t tell you what I think our particular springs of water are. I’ll just say that I know that they are abundant – that God has given us both the upper and the lower springs and a few others on the side. What’s more, I’m going to encourage us to think of those springs in the most open way possible.
For example, we have two key assets as a congregation. Those assets are real estate. We have a field in Hespeler and we have another field in Preston. I’m not sure which one is the upper spring and which one is the lower spring, but it hardly matters. And of course, we live in a world where real estate is seen as a very important asset. In the heart of two of the villages of Cambridge, these are valuable fields, right?
Now, I know that we could just put a dollar figure on those two pieces of property and say that we are finished calculating the value of our assets. But that is not what we’re supposed to do. We are called to see them as springs of water, sources of blessing upon all those who live in this Negeb. That is the challenge we are dealing with.
And we are not just talking about assets that are valued in the larger economic world. We have assets that are human skills and talents and abilities. We have assets in terms of our reputation in the community. And we have assets in terms of our connection and our partnership with other groups in the community, like the food bank.
These are all springs of water that our Father has given to us and is calling us to use them to minister and to serve in this dry, desert land where we find ourselves. That is the challenge. I am excited to be able to explore all of these possibilities with you.