Dark Nights of the Soul

Psalm 22:1-31

There is a short story in the Bible, a story of thirty-one verses. This story begins with the words My God, my God why have you forsaken me?, goes on to say I am thirsty and ends with it is finished. Any ideas what that story might be? Of course we instantly recognise what that story is; it is the twenty second psalm. (Did you think I was going to talk about Jesus on the cross?)

Psalm 22 is a familiar story, but not just because it is the story of six hours one dark Friday. The Son of God is not alone among the daughters and sons of men in going through a time of seeming isolation from his God, his mates, and his senses. Abandonment, confusion, embarrassment and doubts assault each of us at times. A recent example of a seemingly God-forsaken people came to my mind this week because last Wednesday marked the International Day of Reflection on the genocide in Rwanda. I’m sure you are all aware that fifteen years civil war broke out and visited atrocities upon that African land. Wednesday was also World Health Day, and again a reminder to pray for all who are sick and sad, many of them alone, many without the hope that the messages of Easter bring.

Let’s look at the psalm...

Do you see the “it is finished” at the end there? The Lord has done it: it has been accomplished long ago and we will keep telling it.

This is a very private psalm, in scholarship terms it is referred to as a personal lament, more plainly it is one person’s whinge against the world. But we have all been there, even Jesus: this is a sulk with good reason.

The biggest question this psalm asks is in verse eight, which the Good News Bible translates as if the Lord likes you, why doesn’t He help you? (Aren’t you the Messiah? Come down off the cross then!) A good question: one I have asked on my own behalf many times. Just because God was silent when Jesus was on the cross doesn’t mean I have to like it when I am feeling tired and emotional. Indeed I remember asking this question in the company of my minister at a time when I was feeling like this, and he told me that it was a season of the Spirit which is sometimes called “the dark night of the soul”. How many of you have heard that term before? It comes from St John of the Cross and his book The Ascent of Mount Carmel. But in actual fact, this dark night is not about being abandoned in blackness; as we have seen in the second part of this psalm God is, and always was, there. The darkness is not about spiritualised depression; rather it is the steeping beyond the known and through the darkness of what is unknown to come to a new knowing. Teachers know about that, this is the journey we guide our students along all the time; but it’s a lot scarier when God is doing it to grown-ups. This process has more to do with Proverbs 3:5-6 and relying solely on God, and Psalm 23:4 and trusting God in the valleys of the shadows, than with our sins separating us from God. In the Contemporary English Version verse 21 says don’t let lions eat me. There’s no point saying that unless you think someone stronger than you is with you where the wild things are.

It is easy to feel confused and overwhelmed, I am sure that Jesus did. But what we go through in these times of darkness is like driving at night along an unknown road, (or even a known road in a rainstorm), rather than choosing to sit the darkness out. We can act in faith, and with conviction sourced from the deep roots of God’s record in our history. Darkness is mysterious, but that is the reality of our mysterious God. Faith is hope without sight: blessed are those who have believed without seeing, as Jesus told Thomas.

We come to understand, when this psalm turns in verse 22 from a lament to a song of deliverance, that the night is darkness in which a person may appear lost, but which actually leads them to the place in which they will find themselves. This darkness is a way of progress, the tunnel at the end of the light that leads to even greater light. It is sad that so often we try to find a refuge from the darkness, and way of avoiding it, rather than learning lessons of faith by walking with God through the valleys of the shadows.

In this week following Easter, and the first week of the season between the rising of the Son and the descending of the Spirit we remember that our nights of faith are not a phase or a season, they are a metaphor for Christian life. Now we see dimly, then we shall see clearly. We live all our lives in the time between times; but we also know that these dark patches come in bouts, and the more we are growing and wanting to learn the more often the bouts will come. It is scary, but like the wildest of rollercoasters it can also be fun when we remember that in God’s hands we may be spinning and ducking, but we are not crashing and burning. When we are out of control, God is fully in control: and that is a good thing. That is the confidence that lead Jesus to stand up in Gethsemane and greet Judas rather than scramble away to hide at Mary and Martha’s place until the soldiers had gone.

The light of God is the only true light. Sometimes God uses the darkness we have taken ourselves into rather than leading us into a dark place Himself. We learn that where He is there is light; false lights will lead us astray. I have heard it said it is better to be in God’s silence, than in the world’s violence; even if the world at least has neon and noise.

Life with God is thrilling: Easter and Pentecost show that, and as Christians we know it ourselves. The God of the gentle whisper that Elijah heard is also the God of the cloud of fire and smoke that Moses saw; so why can’t He also be the God of absence that Jesus experienced on the cross? Easter Sunday reminds us that God always comes through when all hope seems lost and only He can do it. That’s the testimony of my life: regardless of the tuneful talents of fat ladies I have learned that nothing is over until God proclaims it finished. It is finished when God has accomplished all, and that goes as much for His plans for our life and our church as for His plans for universal salvation through Jesus Christ.

What is achieved in darkness will be proclaimed in the light, forever.

Amen.

Cafe Agape
9th April 2010
 

Look Closer

It was a rock like any other rock. Well it had seemed that way anyway. A small jag poking through one of the sides of Bulldog Gully was all that could be seen as John Deason and Richard Oates turned their cart through the gully on the road between Moliagul and Dunolly. Just as they were passing the rock one of their wheels scraped against it, causing the cart to tip. One of the men looked around and saw a glint beneath the mud. Perhaps this was not a rock like any other rock.

Scrub fires were common in that part of the country. The tinder dry shrub under a blazing sun and the south-westerly winds blowing in from the desert made them a regular sight for the shepherd. The fire at Horeb was a fire like any other fire, if only a bit smaller as it seemed to be confined to just the one bush. Not really worth noticing then, it wasn’t going far. But then the something twigged in the shepherd’s brain and he looked again. Perhaps this fire was not like any other fire.

In our reading on Sunday we heard from Luke 13:1-3 where a group of people came to ask Jesus about current events. It says now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! Lots of stuff happens around us, and not all of it has a spiritual meaning. Sometimes the things that are significant to God aren’t the things that we expect: not all “Acts of God” are what they seem. When Elijah heard from the Lord it was not in the great wind, the earthquake, or the firestorm but in the gentle whisper. I am convinced that an act of God is not a natural disaster; rather it is what the Church does in response to one. The Act of God is not the bushfire: it is the volunteers distributing water, blankets, food, clothing, prayer, and hugs. God is seen in the everyday activities of ordinary people; sometimes in extraordinary circumstances.

Moses was minding his own business, and his father-in-law’s sheep, when God came to him. Maybe God had tried other things in the past and it took the not-so-burning bush to grab Moses’ attention, but even in that I don’t think there was anything truly spectacular in what God did. Unlike the epic cinema of the 1950s I don’t think there was an angel quire, or even a noticeable “presence of the Spirit” that the Charismatics might describe. I think Moses was just walking past, saw the bush, gave it a second glance, and then went over to have a sticky. It was then that God smiled, whispered “got him, yes!” to the pre-incarnate Jesus, and sent His Voice to speak with Moses just as His Voice had walked and talked with Adam.

Have a look at the passage, what is the first thing God says to Moses? He says Moses’ name. And Moses responds with “ye-ah...what?” Only then does God tell Moses to take his shoes off and proceed to introduce Himself. That is when Moses looks away in fear: before then he was quite happy to look at a strangely-burning-yet-not-consumed talking shrub. If we take the time to look for the wonder in the mundane we may find ourselves standing on holy ground.

I don’t know how it was with you, but with the generations that are young today, those called X and Y, (remember there is Z and now Alpha behind us), spirituality is carried in many “ordinary” things. Younger Christians, some of whom are heading for fifty, hear from God in songs on the radio, in films that aren’t specifically about Christian themes, or even in conversations with their mates. Sunsets and mountain lakes are still stunning us with God’s presence, but then sunsets happen daily, and mountain lakes have been around for as long as there have been lakes and mountains. You shouldn’t have to find the Virgin Mary in a piece of toast to know that God wants your attention: just look closer at ordinary things and you may well find that God has been trying to catch your gaze for a while.

Messers Deason and Oates were eventually paid £19,068 for their nugget, “The Welcome Stranger” which at 2283 troy ounces (70.558 kg in new money) is the largest alluvial gold nugget found anywhere in the world. It had been buried less than two inches below the soil. This was not a rock like any other rock, but it took someone to look directly at it to see that. What treasures might we find, what words might we hear if we bother to give a second glance or look just beyond the surface of the everyday?

Answering The Call

Isaiah 6:1-8 and 1 Corinthians 15:1-11

One of the big sporting events in the United Kingdom each year is the RBS Six Nations rugby championship. Each February and March the home nations of Britain, plus France and Italy, compete in a round-robin series to determine who will be champions of Europe. The British also compete for “the triple crown” and this is awarded to the team that defeats all three of the others. I have always supported England in this competition, but the reigning champions from 2009 were Ireland who won for the first time since 1984, having been runners up in 2007 and 2008. Because the Ireland team is composed of players from Eire (the independent Republic) and Northern Ireland (a province of the United Kingdom), there is no one national anthem. Instead Ireland plays under the anthem “Ireland’s Call” and it goes like this:

Come the day and come the hour,
Come the power and the glory!
We have come to answer our country’s call
From the four proud provinces of Ireland.
Ireland, Ireland!
Together standing tall.
Shoulder to shoulder,
We’ll answer Ireland’s call.

It’s a rousing song and a stirring sound when the full complement of Lansdowne Road or Croke Park stadiums in Dublin belt it out; even as an Englishman I love to hear it sung. Come the day and come the hour, come the power and the glory, we have come to answer....we’ll answer the call.

The lectionary readings for this week tell the story of people being called by God to take His message to the world. Those of you who were here on Sunday will remember Rev Rob preaching from Luke 5:1-11 which is the story of Jesus preaching from the boat, and then of Simon lowering his nets on the opposite side of his boat for a big catch. The story concludes with Jesus inviting Simon to fish for men, and with Simon and the sons of Zebedee leaving their nets and everything else to follow Jesus.

This story, along with the one we have just read from Paul and the call of Isaiah recorded in Isaiah 6:1-8 have several elements in common.
1. God always takes the initiative: Jesus appeared on the beach and climbed into Simon’s boat uninvited. Jesus appeared to Paul on the Damascus road after he returned to Heaven, and Isaiah appeared (in a dream) in the courts of Heaven. We know that the story of grace tells us that God sent Jesus to a world bound up in sin and selfishness: the gospel is always a story where God acts first.

2. The human response to a call is always the recognition of the holiness of God, followed by a sense of unworthiness in the face of the call. Simon and Isaiah both express distress at the sudden realisation that they are sinners in the presence of the Lord. God responds with grace to the reality of human insufficiency; Jesus encourages Simon not to be afraid, and the Lord on His throne sends a seraph with a burning coal to purge Isaiah’s sinful lips.

3. Those who accept the call will agree wholeheartedly to participate in God’s work. “Woe to me,” cries Isaiah, but then “here I am, send me”. Paul who described himself as “the least of the apostles because I persecuted the Church” goes on to describe how he has toiled harder than anyone else in preaching what he believes so that others will come to believe the same. Each of those to whom God issues the call understands that God is calling the people of the world to Himself, beginning with those whom He calls to share the message.

The lives of Peter, Paul and Isaiah in the decades that follow their individual stories of call demonstrate that as men and women of faith our lives are always more productive and imaginative when Jesus is with us in our activities. Simon has caught thousands of fish, but Peter has been the inspiration to billions of people over two thousand years. Saul of Tarsus had been a top scholar in the school of the leading Pharisee Gamaliel, but the Apostle Paul wrote two thirds of the New Testament, planted churches across the known world, and mentored the next generation of leaders in Timothy, Titus, and John Mark. We are at our best when we are embedded in the substance of our call: doing what God has individually called and resourced us to do.

Cafe Agape has returned to serve Port Lincoln in 2010, and we hope that even with the changes taking place in and around Unity Hill in the next year that the fellowship which has taken place here will continue. God has called all of the Church to be His representative in its local community: may we all keep on enjoying each other’s company, cooking, and testimony.
Amen.