Weathering Storms: Sermon

Dr. Seuss the writer of children’s books, often captures deep truths in simple statements. A quote I read of his in preparation for this sermon reads:
 

Troubles of all sort come throughout our lives – some develop slowly over time, some happen suddenly and shockingly, some have a nasty habit of reappearing time and time again. And while we wish we had a big bat with which we can fight back – it’s not actually that simple.

In the last few weeks – we as a congregation have faced trouble, have seen heartache and have weathered storms. Yesterday we assisted with the funeral of a beautiful young girl, the daughter of one of our families.

And the reality is that each of us, at some time, has gone through trials and difficulties, has suffered and has journeyed through valleys of pain and loss and heartache.

This morning I’m going to be looking at weathering storms. Looking at what we can use to hold us and help us, to get our lives through rough seas and dark clouds.

We will be looking at multiple readings this morning but I’m going to start with one from the book of Mark – a well-known story of Jesus and his disciples. Its Mark chapter 4 – and I’ll be reading from verses 35-39

“That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!

Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.”

May God bless to us this reading of his Holy Word.

Let us pray:

Father, as we come to your word this morning speak to our hearts, guide us and encourage us. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you and bring you glory. Amen.

The storms that happen in the sea of Galilee are fierce, unpredictable and extremely dangerous to small boats. Because of the relatively shallow waters, the winds are able to create a great disturbance. In our reading we are told that the waves were breaking over the boat to the point of them being swamped.

Storms have the ability to grab our attention, to question life, at times to shake us to our core. Whether the waves carry labels of illness, or financial strain, or broken relationships or loss – each of them can frighten us, intimidate us and at times even leave us devastated and in despair.

How do we survive in our little boats? If we are honest we know we are fragile. The Bible describes us as grass – in 1 Peter 1 we read

“All people are like grass,
    and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall…”

Those beautiful little flowers we see in the veld – we are as fragile as that. And while we like to hold on to the idea of us being strong and in control – it’ll often take just one wave to shake our strength, and we realise that we have very little power at all.

But we do have some things that never change and are a gift of strength to us as we journey on these seas – and the first is the gift of hope as an anchor

Hebrews 6:19 reads:

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.”

The hope that we have is that this is not all there is. That while it may seem that what we can see and touch here is the only reality – there is a beauty and reality far more permanent and true than this.

And so our hope rests in a God who not only created us, but who longs to be known by us. A God who loves us so much that he became one of us that we might love Him. He then died for us to enable us to live forever, and that we may know Him and know his love.

He then gives us his Spirit, who lives inside us as a promise, as a foretaste of what awaits us when our journey here is finished.

And so we have hope knowing that there is meaning and purpose behind all that happens. We have hope because we know God has not left us but rather is intimately involved in our lives. One of my favourite stories is of a painting depicting a burnt down cottage, and in front of it an old man, who has clearly just lost all that he has. Holding the hand of this old man is a young boy sobbing. The Title of the painting is “Hush Child – God ain’t dead”.

We serve a living God who is on the throne, and who has promised us that one day – all that is wrong will be made right. That one day injustice, evil, cruelty and heartache will be destroyed. That one day cancer and corruption and abuse and slavery will be abolished… and that he will wipe every tear from our eyes and there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain for the old order of things has passed away.

We do not need to fear death for it has been conquered. Our anchor is lodged in the truth of hope. No matter what waves and storms may beat our boat – our hope, our anchor can hold firm.

As the old hymn tells us

It is safely moored, ’twill the storm withstand,

For ’tis well secured by the Saviour’s hand;

And the cables passed from His heart to mine,

Can defy the blast, through strength divine.

We have an anchor that keeps the soul

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,

Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,

Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.

The second gift we are given is the Word as our light.

Psalm 119:105 reads

In stormy waters one of the most comforting sights for a boat is the lighthouse. Not only is it a promise and encouragement of land nearby, but it also provides guidance and direction around dangerous rocks and shallow areas.

The young adults group that meets here on Tuesdays are studying a group of psalms called the psalms of accent. And what we keep discovering more and more is that every human emotion, every struggle seems to be captured in the psalms. We have the writer crying out for deliverance, for guidance, for favour. There are moments of questioning –

Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favour again?

Why, O Lord, do you stand far off?

There are moments of great joy and trust–

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad, let the sea resound and all that is in it; let the fields be jubilant and everything in them – Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy” Psalm 96:11-12

The Lord is my shepherd – I shall not be in want…” Psalm 23:1

God’s word for us can be as that lighthouse is – an incredible source of encouragement and promise. But it also is His chosen way of speaking and guiding and comforting us.

We can read of his faithfulness to David as he faced giants and Daniel as he faced lions.

We can read of his provision as he leads his people through dry and desert areas.

We can read of his power as we see Him create the world and split the oceans.

We can read of his love as we look at a cross that he went to for you and me.

And his word can be a light to us in dark places.

Going back to a verse that we read earlier from 1 Peter

“All people are like grass,
    and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall…”

The last part of that verse reads – But the word of the Lord will stand forever. The light never goes out.

We have hope as an anchor and his word as a light.

And finally, we have Jesus as a companion.

In our first reading for today in Mark 4, we read of the disciples in the storm and in a boat that is ready to sink. And then we read;

Jesus was in the stern.

Jesus was there. While the storm was terrifying them all – they had the creator of water and lakes and storms there with them.

 The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!

Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.”

I love the power in those words. He rebuked the wind and said to the waves…

Our boats as they are tossed about by waves and storms, always have Jesus in them. We are never alone.

“Never will I leave you – never will I forsake you”

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.”

“I will not leave you orphans – I will come to you.”

“In this world you will have trouble – but be brave – I have overcome the world.”

We are not made to weather storms alone. Not only is he present with us in the boat – but he also understands. As he walked here among us, as one of us, he experienced grief, betrayal, fear, exhaustion, frustration, loneliness and pain. He is not a God who cannot sympathise or who stands far off – but rather one who knows, who understands, who loves us – and who has the power to change things.

And we are not by any means promised a storm free life. We are not even promised that when we turn to Him that he’ll click his fingers and everything will go smoothly as we would want.

There is a saying that says – “Sometimes God calms the storm… sometimes he lets the storm rage and calms his child.”

The biggest storm is often the one that rages within our hearts and in our souls. And in the midst of whatever rages around our little boats – may we hear the words deep within – “Quiet. Be still.”

In the Narnia series, C. S. Lewis writes of Aslan, who relates to the world of Narnia as Jesus does to our world. In the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the books characters are sailing a ship into unknown seas. They come to a patch of darkness and in rowing into it find themselves in a terrifying situation – a situation where their worst nightmares become reality. They have rescued a man who has been trapped there for many years – and now are struggling to get out themselves. In this dire situation Caspian, the King turns to the ship’s captain Drinian:

"Drinian," he said in a very low voice. "How long did we take rowing in? - I mean rowing to where we picked up the stranger."

"Five minutes, perhaps," whispered Drinian. "Why?"

"Because we've been more than that already trying to get out."

Drinian's hand shook on the tiller and a line of cold sweat ran down his face. The same idea was occurring to everyone on board. "We shall never get out, never get' out," moaned the rowers. "He's steering us wrong. We're going round and round in circles. We shall never get out." The stranger, who had been lying in a huddled heap on the deck, sat up and burst out into a horrible screaming laugh.

"Never get out!" he yelled. "That's it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out."

Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting top and whispered, "Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now." The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little - a very, very little - better. "After all, nothing has really happened to us yet," she thought.

"Look!" cried Rynelf's voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.

Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong sweet voice what seemed to be words though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose, and began to fly slowly ahead, bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, "Courage, dear heart," and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan's.”

Courage dear heart.

In life storms will come – some will do damage to our boat, some may even feel as though they may overwhelm us. But as the disciples saw, as Lucy found out – we are never alone. We have Jesus as our companion.

Three things to hold us together – to enable us to weather storms. We have hope as an anchor firm and secure. We have the Word as our light to encourage and comfort. And above all, we have Jesus as our companion.

And Jesus says, “In this world you will have trouble – but be brave, I have overcome the world.”

Courage dear heart.

Let us pray. 

The Last Week of Jesus Series: The True Confession (Mark 15)

When it comes to the crucifixion – I believe that the most important thing we can hear today – is the Gospel account – that we can listen to Scripture telling the story and letting it speak for itself.

And so we are going to be reading almost the whole of Mark chapter 15.

We have up until now been following Mark’s account of the last week with Jesus. We have celebrated his arrival in Jerusalem – and each day have witnessed his teaching, his authority, and his quiet time spent with his disciples and those he loved. Last night we meditated on the terrible suffering Jesus went through as he struggled in the Garden of Gethsemane, as he allowed a dear friend to betray him, as he watched those he loves, abandon him and deny him.

We now come to the climax – this is it. Today is the day that the greatest love the world has ever seen, gets poured out, offered up and given for you and for me. And so we will read from the Gospel of Mark chapter 15 – from verse one. 

15 Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, made their plans. So they bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.

² “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate.

“You have said so,” Jesus replied.

³ The chief priests accused him of many things. ⁴ So again Pilate asked him, “Aren’t you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.”

⁵ But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.

⁶ Now it was the custom at the festival to release a prisoner whom the people requested. ⁷ A man called Barabbas was in prison with the insurrectionists who had committed murder in the uprising. ⁸ The crowd came up and asked Pilate to do for them what he usually did.

⁹ “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate,¹⁰ knowing it was out of self-interest that the chief priests had handed Jesus over to him. ¹¹ But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have Pilate release Barabbas instead.

¹² “What shall I do, then, with the one you call the king of the Jews?” Pilate asked them.

¹³ “Crucify him!” they shouted.

¹⁴ “Why? What crime has he committed?” asked Pilate.

But they shouted all the louder, “Crucify him!”

¹⁵ Wanting to satisfy the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

¹⁶ The soldiers led Jesus away into the palace (that is, the Praetorium) and called together the whole company of soldiers. ¹⁷ They put a purple robe on him, then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on him. ¹⁸ And they began to call out to him, “Hail, king of the Jews!” ¹⁹ Again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him. ²⁰ And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

The Crucifixion of Jesus

²¹ A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross. ²² They brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means “the place of the skull”). ²³ Then they offered him wine mixed with myrrh, but he did not take it. ²⁴ And they crucified him. Dividing up his clothes, they cast lots to see what each would get.

²⁵ It was nine in the morning when they crucified him. ²⁶ The written notice of the charge against him read: the king of the jews.

²⁷ They crucified two rebels with him, one on his right and one on his left. ^[28] [a]29 Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, “So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days,³⁰ come down from the cross and save yourself!” ³¹ In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself! ³² Let this Messiah, this king of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe.” Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him.

The Death of Jesus

³³ At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon.³⁴ And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).^[b]

³⁵ When some of those standing near heard this, they said, “Listen, he’s calling Elijah.”

³⁶ Someone ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. “Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to take him down,” he said.

³⁷ With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.

³⁸ The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. ³⁹ And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!”

Taticus, the Roman historian, states concerning Judea during the whole life and ministry of Jesus; His trial, His crucifixion and His resurrection, one sentence "nothing of significance happened in that time during those days." One of the greatest historians of the era could say that nothing of importance happened in Judea when Jesus walked the earth & gave His life for mankind. He missed it – completely. The central point of human history was recorded as “nothing of significance”. 

And while there may be many many reasons why this event may have passed him by, I sometimes wonder if we miss the significance of today. If we leave here this morning, or on Sunday morning and when people ask – how was Church or how was your weekend… we respond saying – “Ja fine”… nothing of consequence happened here really… nothing significant. We fall into the trap of getting used to this. We talk casually about the cross and Jesus sufferings. Sometimes we don’t understand what the cross was really like – the fact that even to this day it is still the most heinous and cruel and degrading form of execution ever devised. Sometimes we have simply heard the story too many times – we have become immune to its power and its horror and its beauty.

In the story we have read though – there is someone who I believe could teach us about the significance of what has happened. And that is the Centurion. If anyone could shrug his shoulders at the events of that day it would have been him. As a Roman soldier crucifixions would have been common place, they were the form of execution used as a scare tactic in order to maintain control in the empire. At one time and a couple of years before, around 150 men were crucified on the same day. Crucifixions were part and parcel of this man’s job as he served his time in Judea.

So the horror and the cruelty of it probably passed him by. He was hardened by the time and the way of life to the point that this was simply another day at the job.

But something was different on this day. Something that changed everything for this man.

What was it?

Was it Jesus’ innocence proclaimed by Pilate or his silence in the face of false accusations?

Was it the way in which he took the spit of the Roman guard on his face and instead of retaliating looked at these men with compassion?

Was it the statement he kept hearing in mockery – and that he read above Jesus head “The King of the Jews”… and his welcoming of the one criminal into his eternal kingdom?

Was it his pronouncement of forgiveness, his care of his mother – his god-forsaken cry of abandonment?

Was it the terror of the earthquake and the darkness?

Whatever the Centurion saw, it was clear to him that this was no ordinary man – this death; this cross; this suffering – this was different… and in horrified realisation, he proclaims his own guilt by saying – This is the Son of God… whom I have just crucified.

Can you imagine the agony and the fear involved in knowing that you played a part in that? That you have not only innocent blood on your hands, but the blood of Almighty God.

The realisation this morning – is that we do. Each of us here are the reason that Jesus went to the cross. Each of us here hold the nails in our hands. Let his blood be on our heads and on our children is what the crowd cried out that day – and it hasn’t changed since then.

And so the truest confession we can ever make when looking at the cross is – truly there hangs the son of God… and I crucified him.

In the 1976 film "Jesus of Nazareth," directed by Franco Zeffirelli, Jesus was played by the British actor Robert Powell and another man by the name of Ernest Borgnine had a small but crucial role as the centurion whose servant Jesus healed and who (as done with artistic licence) was later present at the crucifixion. Borgnine recounts the story of his scene at the cross as follows:
“When it came time for my scene during the crucifixion, the weather was chill and gray. The camera was to be focused on me at the foot of the cross, and so it was not necessary for Robert Powell, the actor who portrayed Jesus, to be there. Instead, Zeffirelli put a chalk mark on a piece of scenery beside the cameraman. "I want you to look up at that mark," he told me, "as if you were looking at Jesus."
I hesitated. Somehow I wasn’t ready. I was uneasy.
"Do you think it would be possible for somebody to read from the Bible the words Jesus said as He hung on the cross?" I asked.
I knew the words well from the days of my childhood in an Italian-American family in Connecticut, and I’d read them in preparation for the film. Even so, I wanted to hear them now.
"I will do it myself," Zeffirelli said. He found a Bible, opened it to the Book of Luke, and signaled for the camera to start rolling.
As Zeffirelli began reading Christ’s words aloud, I stared up at that chalk mark, thinking what might have gone through the centurion’s mind.
That poor Man up there, I thought. I met Him when He healed my servant who is like a son to me. Jesus says He is the Son of God, an unfortunate claim during these perilous times. But I know he is innocent of any crime.
"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." The voice was Zeffirelli’s, but the words burned into me -- the words of Jesus. (Luke 23:34-46)
Forgive me, Father, for even being here, was the centurion’s prayer that formed in my thoughts. I am so ashamed, so ashamed.
"Verily I say unto thee, today shalt thou be with me in paradise," said Jesus to the thief hanging next to Him.
If Jesus can forgive that criminal, then He will forgive me, I thought. I will lay down my sword and retire to my little farm outside of Rome.
Then it happened.
As I stared upward, instead of the chalk mark, I suddenly saw the face of Jesus Christ, lifelike and clear. It was not the face of Robert Powell I was used to seeing, but the most beautiful, gentle visage I have ever known. Pain-seared, sweat-stained, with blood flowing down from thorns pressed deep, His face was still filled with compassion. He looked down at me through tragic, sorrowful eyes with an expression of love beyond description.
Then His cry rose against the desert wind. Not the voice of Zeffirelli, reading from the Bible, but the voice of Jesus Himself: "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."
In awe I watched Jesus’ head slump to one side. I knew He was dead. A terrible grief welled within me, and completely oblivious of the camera, I started sobbing uncontrollably.
"Cut!" yelled Zeffirelli. The women playing the roles of Mary and Mary Magdalene were crying, too. I wiped my eyes and looked up again to where I had seen Jesus. He was gone.
Whether I saw a vision of Jesus that windswept day or whether it was only something in my mind, I do not know. It doesn’t matter. For I do know that it was a profound spiritual experience and that I have not been quite the same person since. As that centurion learned two thousand years ago, I too have found that you simply cannot come close to Jesus without being changed.”

This morning we come together and we look at the Cross. We look at a man hanging there in pain and agony. And when we look at our own hands – we will see his blood on them.

But the beauty in the midst of the horror is this – that while we gaze on the one who hangs there we can hear these words.

Father forgive them – they do not know what they are doing.

And we can know that there is forgiveness for us.

Today you shall be with me in paradise

And we can know that there is eternal life promised for us.

It is finished.

No longer do I need to hold onto guilt or shame or bitterness or hopelessness. The darkness is over – we look forward to the son rising on Easter Sunday to know the glorious truth – that the son of man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.

And as we feel the earth shake, as we watch the curtain torn in two – we can know that God’s heart broke for us. He loved us so much – that he gave his one and only son… not to condemn the world – but to save the world through him.

I don’t know what it is that will change your heart. But this morning I invite you to look upon the King of the Jews, as he hangs on the cross. I want you to go through the story – hear the words, watch as he takes on the sins and filth of this world – and experience a love that is greater than the burden he carries and the pain he bears.

And ensure that you don’t leave here without encountering him. Don’t leave believing nothing of significance took place. Stand alongside the Centurion and believe in the wondrous truth. This is the son of God – who takes away the sins of the world.