Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Let’s take a quick opinion poll as we begin, shall we?

I’m going to give us a series of choices,

and for each one, raise your right hand if you prefer choice (a),

and you left hand if you prefer choice (b).

Since you’ll never have both your hands in the air at the same time,

I promise you won’t look like Pentecostals, okay?

Here’s the main question:

Where is it easier for you to feel God’s presence?

1. seated on the shore at White Rock Lake, or
2. seated in your car in rush-hour traffic?

How about this one:

1. seeing wildfires destroy homes in California, or
2. seeing the rescue workers arrive to help displaced families?

Okay …

1. when your home is neat and clean, with everything in its place, or
2. the way your home looks right after the grandkids have spent a week?

Easier to feel God’s presence,

1. when war is declared, or
2. when a peace treaty is signed?

How about:

1. in times of stability
2. in times of great change?

Most of us, I think,

are at least somewhat biased in favor of order over chaos.

We want to know how things are going to be,

so that we can be prepared for them.

Even if things are going to be bad for a period of time,

as long as they’re bad in an organized sort of way,

we believe we can cope.

Indeed, one of the quickest ways to drive a person quite literally insane

is to respond to their behavior in ways that are completely random.
It works on animals, too, by the way.

I’ll tell you about the lab-rat experiments if you really want to know.

But all of us, from the smallest of God’s creatures to the greatest,

apparently have a need for some sort of order in our lives.

Some sense that things behave in predictable ways,

that if we do (a), then (b) will follow.

Or maybe (c) or (d), but never (e), (f), or (g).

The very first chapter of the book of Genesis suggests to us, after all,

that God is on the side of order, not chaos …

God created the world as we know it, not out of "nothing," so to speak,

but by bringing order into the undifferentiated chaos that was already there.

Remember?

God created light, but then had to separate the light from the darkness.

God separated the waters, and created sky above and earth beneath.

Then on the next day, God took the earth and

separated the seas from the dry land.

Then, God can go about creating plants and animals and humans …

not as miscellaneous, generic "plant life" and "animal life,"

but as different specific kinds of creatures.

Order is the order of the day.

Chaos, it is implied, is where God is not.

Or at least, where God has not yet been.

So, there seems to be something about the very way we are created

that makes us prefer order.

It is, most of the time, easier for us to sense God’s presence

when things around us are orderly,

when they behave as we expect them to behave,

when things are in their proper places,

when good things happen to good people

and bad things happen to bad people.

And, conversely, it’s often difficult for us to know where God is

when things have become disorderly.

When doing (a) no longer results in (b).

When bad things happen to good people, and vice versa.

When we can no longer depend on

something we have always depended on.

Today’s scripture reading, however,

reminds us that sometimes we have no control.

That sometimes there is no order, only chaos.

And that even in those times, God is beside us.

God doesn’t necessarily cause the chaos,

but God may permit it.

This does not mean, however, that God has abandoned us.

It does mean that we may have to start looking for God

in different places and in different ways.

Imagine yourself as a Jew of Jesus’ day,

hearing him talk about the Temple being thrown down and destroyed.

I mean, that’s just the kind of thing that got him into trouble!

This is the most sacred spot on earth to your people,

built by the command of God,

defended against invaders,

rebuilt at great cost in gold, and time, and labor.

Who is he to predict its ruin?!

God forbid … literally!

For those of us who are Protestants,

there really is no equivalent.

I suppose that if we were Catholic,

it might be like saying that

the Vatican will be torn down, and all its treasures scattered,

and the Pope wandering homeless.

For some of us, perhaps,

the thought of this church closing,

is not too far off from that.

What will we do,

if the place where we have always found God

is no longer there for us?

Where will we find God?

Jesus encourages us, it seems to me,

to look for God even in the midst of the chaos.

To be sure, we gladly anticipate

whatever new thing God is going to bring out of the old.

But we don’t have to wait for that new thing

in order to have God by our side.

God is present right here, right now,

even in the very middle of change and uncertainty and grief

and not knowing what the next days may bring.

I suspect most of us have experienced something of this

when we’ve had to come to terms with

the death of someone we care about.

Those are often times when God seems, at the very least, far away;

and when we have too many things to think about,

and too many details to cover,

not to mention a gaping hole in our life

that hurts every time we bump up against it.

How chaotic the experience is

may depend on how close we were to the person,

and whether we had had time to anticipate their death,

and whether they had made preparations,

and all that sort of thing …

But even under the best of circumstances,

it’s still a time of upheaval, and change, and chaos,

and of wondering where God is in the midst of it all.

Yet don’t we sense God near us,

even in our grief and upset?

To be sure, God doesn’t usually respond in ways that settle everything for us …

God doesn’t instantly heal our grief,

or make the funeral arrangements so we don’t have to,

or take care of all the legal details,

or even write the thank-you notes for all the food that shows up!

Yet God is present, in ways that we can scarcely articulate,

and sometimes don’t even sense until we have the benefit of hindsight.

Even in chaos, God is nearby;

and doesn’t always fix things,

but strengthens us to do so,

or to endure until they have passed

and the vision of the future becomes clearer.

When chaos strikes – and sooner or later, it always does –

Scripture also reminds us that it isn’t God who causes that chaos.

When Jesus describes the bad things to come to his followers in the near future,

nowhere does he imply that God is the one

who will cause these things to happen.

It is not God who will tear down the temple

so that no stone is left upon another.

It is not God who will stir up the wars and insurrections,

not God who causes the great earthquakes and plagues and famines,

not God who hands Jesus’ followers over to arrest and persecution.

Our insurance companies may refer to a hurricane as "an act of God,"

but the scriptures do not!

Enemies may betray us;

in scary times, family and friends may even betray us,

but God does not.

Houses of God may crumble and fall,

but God remains strong.

And thus, it is often when chaos strikes

that we discover we didn’t trust God as much as maybe we thought we did.

Do we learn about ourselves

that we were more worried about whether our insurance covered us in a disaster

than whether would know where to look for God?

Have we trusted more in weapons and military strength

to protect us from "wars and insurrections,"

rather than hearing what God has to say?

Have we tried to blame God for famines and plagues

when they afflicted people we didn’t much like anyway?

Have we sometimes followed leaders who said "I am the one,"

and "The time is near," claiming to have all the answers,

because that was so much more comforting than living with uncertainty?

If so, welcome to the human race.

There is a part of us that doesn’t want to find God in the chaos;

we want God to fix the chaos, and restore order.

And I can’t tell you why God chooses not to operate that way,

but it seems clear that God does not.

Perhaps a part of the reason is that often, what passes for order,

is actually very oppressive.

Think about Jesus’ own day:

the Roman Empire was ever so orderly;

they were able to maintain peace, the pax Romana,

for a very long time.

How?

By making sure that those who opposed them,

who threatened the social order,

were ruthlessly suppressed.

Like, crucifying them, just for example.

I’ve never seen anything as orderly

as the records kept by the Nazis

who ran the concentration camps and could account for

every Jew gassed,

every pair of shoes taken,

every gold tooth extracted,

every result of every medical experiment conducted on

unwilling human subjects.

Not divinely ordained "order," in this case.

In our own time and place, we sometimes wish for the "good old days"

of post-World War II in this country,

where it seemed like prosperity was available to all,

and everyone went to church on Sunday,

and life seemed as orderly as anyone could wish.

And all that is true,

but it’s also a time when we as a nation were still openly racist,

and when women were actively prohibited from joining the workforce

in order to be sure that there were jobs for men.

It has taken some creative chaos

in order for beneficial change to take place in our own lifetimes.

In isolation, order and chaos are both neutral.

God may bring about either.

God is present in both,

sometimes to sustain them,

and sometimes to mitigate against them.

We humans do seem to be more comfortable with order,

and that’s not a bad thing,

as long as that order doesn’t exist only by suppressing dissenting voices.

We Presbyterian are certainly fond of order;

after all, part of our constitution is a Book of Order.

Imagine how different we would be if we had a Book of Chaos instead.

All other things being equal, God seems to prefer order;

at least, that’s how God organized the creation.

But when chaos comes, whether to us as individuals or collectively,

God is still there,

directing us when the way is not clear,

giving us the words to say when it is time to speak,

using chaos to overturn injustice,

comforting us when the disorder harms us.

God is with us … come hell or high water.

Or both.

Or famine, or plague, or death, or loss.

Even in the chaos,

God is right here.

Amen.

© 2007 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)