Pentecost +5 sermon

1 Kings 19.1-15a; Psalms 42&43; Galatians 3.23-29; Luke 8.26-39

Have you ever felt like Elijah does this morning?

It’s possible – probable – that we all have. He’s just lived through battle – and watched his friends and colleagues all die. He’s lonely, despondent, depressed. What a great time for self-pity. What a great time to run away, hide in the wilderness, retreat from responsibilities, avoid all human contact.

Sounding familiar? Possibly.

And what a great time to seek out God. That’s exactly what Elijah does – he goes out, and God’s messenger won’t let him die of starvation under the tree – so he goes to Sinai.

This is significant, because Sinai was known to be a special place, a holy place, a place where folks would feel closer to God.

So that’s where Elijah goes. Feeling despondent, he seeks out God.

Sounding familiar? I hope so.

And how wonderful that God is so persistent in his response. The Holy One is saying to Elijah “Nope. I’m not done with you yet. You matter to me. You have ministry opportunities yet coming your way, and I’m going to give you what you need to engage with them.”

That’s a message that would shake your foundation, right? Well, it certainly did for Elijah. Literally. Winds strong enough to break rocks and mountains. An earthquake to dramatically shake things up. An all-consuming fire.

And then – strongest and most poignant of all - Silence.

It’s in this silence that Elijah recognizes the presence of God, the communication of God. It’s in this silence that Elijah is moving from the distractions of this world and instead choosing to focus – humbly and intentionally – on God.

Sounding familiar?

Then we get to hear what God has to say to Elijah. Elijah’s listening, and God – well, God’s message is the exact opposite of what Elijah wants to hear. God is asking him to return to Damascus. Damascus, the city – the ministry – the challenge. The place he’s just fled from. The place where his life and livelihood are threatened. It’s a common message with God – the path to follow God can be a dangerous one, sometimes fraught with difficulties. The road to follow God can be unpopular, uncomfortable, incomprehensible by human standards.

Especially when we’re feeling low and despondent and self-pitying.

Sounding familiar?

But – BUT! There’s a stronger message here. God is speaking! And so the opportunity arises, then, for us to listen. The responsibility is on us to listen. To heed the call. To come out of the place of the dead and into the place of life.

That’s not always easy; sometimes we’d rather stay ion our own wilderness, our own desert. But when we do that, we become like the people that Paul was writing to, in Galatia. Imprisoned, before faith. They were stuck! They were running away! They were avoiding the full life!

Aren't we SO glad then to be living freely in the life of faith, with no restrictions!

Aren't we? Well, if we're not, is it because we're not fully living the life of faith?

That's a hard message to hear. We're comfortable in our ways. The ways that we have set - that we have established - that we then judge others by.

These can become, for any human or group, ways that can be used to exclude, to criticise, to render harsh judgement with.

I had an interesting experience on Monday – I was asked to join the candle light vigil outside City Hall, remembering the victims of, and denouncing the violence of, the Orlando massacre. My role seemed simple - show up, and wear a collar.

Um.  It was an interesting witness. There were several people who started conversations with me – me, an obvious representation of “THE CHURCH”. One person said "I was excluded by the church;" another shared "I'm not welcome at my church;" another tearfully and quietly said "I was told God doesn't love me." HEARTBREAKING.

It saddened me, that these people who were speaking had experienced a denial of full life; a denial of God's love. It saddened me to realize that in any act of exclusion or judgement, that’s exactly what I am doing. And really - who am I to tell God who to love? Who are any of us to convey that message? Who is the church to tell someone they’re not good enough to be loved by the source of all love?

Sadly, this is not a new thing. It's the story happening in today's gospel.

The man – who doesn’t give his name, just a description of his ailment, his diagnosis, if you will. LEGION – he is horribly afflicted. He has been castigated, chained, literally denied access to full community. He is possessed by something that was deemed so horrible that it became accpetable to deny him help - health - inclusion.

So much so that they cast him away to the edges - to the cemetery, close enough to see what happens in the city, to hear what people are saying, and to be reminded that he's not welcome to be a part of it.

Heartbreaking.

How often do we, as society, do the same thing? How do we emotionally chain people in our midst to prevent them from inclusion, rather than try to find ways to help?

How often do we spiritually deny people access to community that is life-giving, forcing them to remain just on the outside looking in?

We - society - segregate, insult, judge, exclude our folks who are different, whom we don't fully understand. They don't have to be demon possessed - just different. They may have mental illnesses (like schizophrenia) - or physical ailments (like the Vancouver attack on the wheelchair-bound person) - or different skin colours (let’s consider the ‘black lives matter’ movement, or our treatment of Indigenous Canadians) - or different religions (would you want to be Muslim in the USA these days?) - or different sexual orientations (the Orlando nightclub is just one sad, extreme example) - or different political views (political rallies can be potentially dangerous) - the list, SADLY, goes on.

And yet the message we have time and again from God - from Jesus' very own words - is to love. To accept. To seek out ways to promote love, to tell the world what God has done for us. To look beyond our own judgements - which is not always easy, especially when the world is full of the noise of discrimination and hate and anger.

The repetitive and sensationalized news is a wind storm of anger; the rhetoric - sometimes false - of people who want to make the news is an earthquake of anger; the local gossip is a fire of judgement.

Yet through that, we're invited to share the good news.

Jesus didn't say it would be easy, my goodness look at his journey.

Jesus didn't say 'church' would be a lovely group of people with all the same opinions – the Gospels of the past few weeks have Jesus hanging out with Pharisees and women of questionable professions and even engaging in conversation with a demon-possessed man!

What Jesus did say is that we are to love.

And God gives us love. And spiritual healing. And forgiveness of sins. And the promise of inclusion. And encourages us to share.The church of today tries to do that - and we can always do better - but that is our mandate. That is our invitation.

So may we hear the words of God today, calling us into the land of the living, and asking us to bring others with us. May we be brave enough to take the risk of faith in order that we might live fully - in our community and in our world - recognising that all are members of the body. May we celebrate that we are loved by God, that everyone we meet is loved by God. May we turn away from the distractions of the world long enough to listen to the silence of our hearts, and delight in the still, small voice that assures us, no matter what: we are loved.