Dr. J. Lawrence Cuthill

February 28, 2010

Winter Park Presbyterian Church

One thing I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple. For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will se me high on a rock.

Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the Lord.

Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me! “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me. Do not turn your servant away in anger, you who have been myhelp. Do not case me off, do not forsake me, O God of my Salvation!

If my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up. Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies. Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries, for false witnesses have risen against me, and they are breathing out violence.

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Psalm 27 has been labeled a “Psalm of Fearless Trust,” but there is clearly a tone that hints that the Psalmist, traditionally thought to be David, may not be as confident as that label claims.

I get the feeling David may well have been shaken by events around him. In a prayerful posture, he is trying to recover his composure, regain his confidence. So, he’s giving himself a talking to; taking a spiritual inventory, stoking the fires of trust. But he’s not there yet – at least not at the beginning of this Psalm. One commentator reminds us why we find the Psalms so appealing. “Psalm 27 maintains gritty honesty as it ‘dances’ back and forth between fear and trust.”

It’s times like these, when we are teetering between “fight-or-flight’ on one hand and faith-courage on the other, that we may ask ourselves, “Who am I?” “What do I believe?” And if we don’t know the answer it is revealed. Crises have a way of exposing who we are … and that usually turns out to be a mix of bravery and fear, sure yet insecure. In view of that, David is rehearsing what he believes – “The Lord is my light,” regardless of how dark it feels … “Whom shall I fear?” Even when I am surrounded, cut off and out-gunned. The psalmist’s hope is that he will get back in touch with and become established upon what he believes. The alternative is to expend precious time and energy, his peace, defending, justifying, excusing, reacting, countering, and despairing.

Then he acts “as if..” In verse seven of the affirmation, the bravado of the initial verses evaporates. The mood changes from proclaiming to pleading: “Be merciful … answer me … do not reject or forsake me.”

The switch is so abrupt that some scholars have suggested some editor slapped two Psalms together with a thin application of glue which doesn’t hold very well, especially in the furnace of real life.

But think for a minute. Isn’t that real life? Real fear lives alongside honest faith. Believing does not mean that all doubt is utterly erased. Taking God seriously isn’t the end of all struggle or suffering. Fear, doubt and struggle are the crucibles out of which a substantial, sustaining spiritual life comes. If we don’t know that when we run head on into a crisis, we may throw it all over.

Faith is more than assent to a set of doctrines. Doctrine is important, to be sure, but it is our experience of grace made incarnate in Jesus, who came … who suffered … who died. . . and who imparts the amazing grace, even now in the midst of this raw existence which is your life and mine.

How are we to know this? Verse 14 holds it all together, though perhaps not, perhaps, as we’d want. “Wait upon the Lord. Let your heart take courage. Yea, wait upon the Lord.” Who here likes to be told to wait? Take a number … Please be seated in the waiting room.

Waiting is one of the most difficult, and at the same time, potentially one of the most spiritually productive, of all states. We don’t like to wait for a number of reasons:

1. It reminds us we’re not in control; we are at the mercy of another, which generates and heightens fear.

2. Waiting seems like ‘down time’; a waste, because nothing is happening.

3. And, related, perhaps waiting implies that we are not productive; we are losing precious time -- and time is money. We only matter if we produce, if we perform.

There are more reasons I’m sure, but think for a moment about those. Dealing with those feelings is a key part of our spiritual growth. There is a reason for waiting, as we read in the Scriptures, “Be still (wait), and know that I am God.” Constant activity and stimulation is not conducive to healthy spirituality. As Baron Von Hugel points out, “Nothing significant can happen in a stampede” … a word descriptive of life today.

First, waiting reminds us we are not in control. Embraced, it can lead us beyond fear of being controlled by others, or being out of control altogether, to the truth. We find life in surrendering control to God.

Press on to that place of peace when you are tempted to go rattle some receptionist’s cage with your irate protests. Your protests may be isdirected; the delay may be neither her fault, nor the doctor’s. Perhaps it’s the fault of that person who lies in surgery, her life on the razor’s edge. (This is not always true; there is also incompetence afloat in abundance, but we’re talking here about your growth in spirit.)

Having to wait can expose our fear. “What’s going to happen to me?” Or it can allow for growth and healing. Having to wait can expose our impatience, even the arrogance that says that we are more important and more deserving of attention than another.

Secondly, sometimes we feel that waiting is wasting time In fact, however, a lot can happen while we wait. For example, we can take time to reflect, time to process what’s going on in and around us; take time to heal. Many of us don’t realize just how tired we are -- how depleted and empty we are, that we are just running on fumes -- until we stop. We find it hard to rest, to wait for our souls to “catch up” with our racing bodies and minds. After all, we convince ourselves, our whole world will collapse if we stop. If it’s that fragile, then we’re building a house of cards – not a life.

What’s chasing you that you fear so much? Eugene Peterson puts it like this, “Quit rushing through the streets long enough to become aware that there is more to life than your little self-help enterprises … .When we are hurried, we are incapable of intimacy.”Whether human or intimate relationship with God, the Source.

And healing? Who among us has not growled that we don’t get well fast enough? Whether recovering from the common cold or cancer; the loss of peace or loss of a significant relationship, we don’t want to hear “Wait.” We want to get past the annoyance or the pain … and now. Medically, we know that if we rush our recovery we risk relapse. Emotionally or spiritually, we miss the lessons pain can teach … and we are prone to repeat the mistakes. Instead, we need to try reflection, reframing and refreshing.

In The Artist’s Way Julie Cameron writes that “Every loss must always be viewed as a potential gain … Every end is a beginning …” The problem is, we think if the present hurts this badly, we tend to view the future as more of the same.

Instead of waiting.we’re stuck. But in that time of inactivity, something is happening. I believed I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

We are human beings, not just human doings. The concept and practice of Sabbath, honors a rhythm that reminds and restores – the truth that we are only fully human in relation to God.

For David, that gave birth to real courage. So he wrote it down as a way of confirming and establishing a sustaining truth. God is … and my life is securely in the hands of the one in charge.

In 1914, the famed explorer, Sir Ernest Shackleton, set out from England on an expedition to cross the continent of Antarctica. To recruit a team, he posted this brief notice:

“Men wanted for hazardous journey. Small wages. Bitter cold. Long months of complete darkness. Constant danger. Safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success.” 5,000 men applied. 28 began the voyage. The expedition did not go as planned. A day away from their destination, surrounded by an unforeseen ice flow, their vessel (appropriately named ‘the Endurance’) was halted. Stuck, the crew spent the Antarctic winter living on the stranded ship. After many months, Shackleton made the decision to abandon ship and continue on foot, which proved fortuitous as they watched the Endurance being crushed by the ice and claimed by the sea.

In lifeboats, crew members found their way to Elephant Island with hope fleeting. Against all odds, Shackelton and five others boarded one lifeboat to seek help, and spent three weeks crossing 800 miles of frigid, raging ocean. Twenty three men were left waiting months in inhuman conditions. They could only hope and trust in one who said he would return.

In his diary, Shackelton wrote:

“There are times when we feel at wit’s end. And there are times when we are certain, we cannot handle this. There are times when we feel strong enough to handle anything, and wonder why we fail. And there are times when our insides feel like dust and, even then, find something to carry us through.” Sound Davidic? Psalm-like? Where do we go and on what do we draw when life is bigger than we are?

In An Altar in the World, the Reverend Barbara Brown Taylor tell of a time when she was Invited to guest preach at another parish. She asked the priest, “What do you want me to talk about?” “Come tell us what is saving your life now,” he told her. Taylor writes,

“I did not have to say correct things that were true for everyone. I did not have to use theological language that conformed to the historical teachings of the church. . .

All I had to do was figure out what my life depended on. All I had to do was figure out how I stayed as close to that reality as I could, and then find some way to talk about it that helped my listeners figure out those same things for themselves.

All I had to do was alternately the easiest and the most difficult – to wait upon the Lord and then speak the truth, tell the story in first person, present tense.”

I would have despaired, says the psalmist, unless I had believed I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord, be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the Lord.

AMEN