From The Pulpit: From Cynicism To Wonder

Several years ago, when Margaret and I were living in South Carolina, I was sitting in my office on a hot summer afternoon when I heard a rumble of thunder. I ran outside to the parking lot, and sure enough, an ominous black cloud was rapidly beginning to fill up the western sky.

 Now the church just happened to sit at the top of a small hill on the eastern end of the downtown area, so I had the perfect vantage point to watch the storm roll in. It was awe-inspiring to experience first the building of the dark clouds until the entire sky was covered, then the flashes of lightning and rumblings of thunder, then the wind whipping in, and then the line of heavy rain marching right up Main Street and over the church.

 It was an experience  that was both thrilling and frightening at the same time, and was probably quite similar to what the author of Psalm 29 wrote about in the Old Testament reading for today. For he writes about what must have been a massive storm using images such as these:

 “The voice of the Lord is over the waters. The God of glory thunders.”

“The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars, the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon” – which, by the way, were considered some of the strongest trees in that part of the world.

“The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness.”

“The voice of the Lord cause the oaks to whirl, and strips the forest bare” – which brings to mind the devastating images of hurricane and tornado damage that we often see today.

 Now speaking of tornadoes, Margaret is always horrified that whenever we get a tornado warning, I don’t run for the closest room without windows. Instead, I head out the front door to get a good look at what is going on!

 But this storm on that day at my old church wasn’t a dangerous situation. It was just some moderate wind and a lot of rain. And the people rushing indoors didn’t look very awe-struck -  just annoyed. They weren’t rushing inside to jot down a powerful piece of poetry like Psalm 29. They were simply trying to stay dry, to keep their hair from getting messed up, and to maybe find someone to listen to their complaints about having their busy day interrupted.

 And how often are we like that? How often, when God’s power is so close and so immediate that it literally moves and shakes us and gets us soaking wet? How often, when we have the chance to run outside, and be a witness to that power, or to run inside so we don’t have to feel it – how often do we choose the indoor option?

Of course, when we ask ourselves this question, we’re talking about a lot more than thunderstorms. We’re talking about all the ways God’s power and God’s transforming grace are made manifest in our lives. How often, because we don’t want to feel the winds that the Holy Spirit is blowing, or because we might be afraid of what that wind brings, or because we might just be too busy to want to deal with it – how often do we, in our faith lives, choose a safe, indoor, out of the way place to hide when the storm rolls in?

Too often, it seems. And that goes for all of us, including myself. In today’s church – and I’m speaking of churches all over the country – in today’s church, we’ve lost in many ways the ability to embrace the storm, to have faith that God is at work in the wind and the rain, and to stand and witness to the storm in awe and in wonder like the author of Psalm 29 did. Because I have a feeling that when he wrote that powerful piece of poetry, he wasn’t just talking about a literal thunderstorm, either. Certainly, he was thinking about some sort of chaos or conflict that was going on in his life or in his religious community or in his nation.

And the reason that we might lose the ability to be amazed by the power of God is because, in many ways, we have grown cynical. According to Webster’s dictionary, cynicism is the belief that the human condition is motivated wholly by self-interest – that there really is no virtue or no good or no decency in the world – that anyone who appears to be doing something loving or compassionate is really just trying to get something for themselves. In other words, a cynic believes that the world is dominated by sinfulness, and that anything we might want to call grace or the goodness of God is an illusion.

Cynicism, therefore, is the opposite of wonder. It’s the opposite of the child-like faith that Luke talks about in today’s Gospel reading, when he says this: that “whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as a child will never enter it.” That doesn’t mean that we should be childish or immature in our faith, but rather that we should look at the world and look at what God is doing in the world with a child-like sense of awe and wonder – that we should strive to find the heavenly point of view that allows us see that the world is more than just a sinful mess - that even though we are sinful, and even though there are storms, there is also a lot of grace and a lot of goodness to be found if only we open our eyes to it.

As some of you might know, this past week was when the Presbyterian Church USA held its General Assembly. This a gathering of commissioners from Presbyteries all over the nation, and it meets once every two years to make important decisions regarding national church policy. As expected, it was a rather contentious assembly, because the Presbyterian Church, much like our country in general, is sharply split along partisan lines. I won’t go into the details of the controversies, other than to say that people on both sides left the meeting feeling angry, bitter, and cynical – as if the church body could never come together, even as if the future of the denomination itself might be in jeopardy.

Now I was not at the assembly, but thanks to the marvels of modern technology, I was able to follow some of the debates on Twitter, which is an Internet social media site. By Friday night, after perhaps the most contentious debate was held on an extremely controversial issue, I too was feeling quite cynical. I, too, was beginning to believe that no amount of God’s grace could ever overcome the bad feelings coming out of this conflict. I found myself wanting just to turn the computer off, and to seek shelter from our denominational storm by ignoring what was going on.

But then, yesterday morning something amazing happened. I logged onto Twitter just to see what people were saying in the aftermath of Friday’s storm, and I was blown away. I learned that two young women – one a youth minister who just recently graduated from seminary, and the other still in seminary – were inviting people to join them for an online prayer meeting to be held later in the evening. I logged on last night not sure what to expect, concerned that it might end up being a partisan rally, or even a continuation of the debate.

But joyfully, my fears were misguided. It turned out to be a beautiful moment where Presbyterians from all over the nation, and even some folks from other denominations, gathered together and poured their hearts out in prayer for the future of God’s church. Now I don’t know how any of these folks feel about the controversial issues of the day, and that didn’t really matter - because here are a few examples of the types of prayers people lifted to God:

 “God, enable us to speak and listen to one another, to gain understanding.”

“God, give hope to those who are called to lead others to hope.”

“God, give us courage and wisdom to know when to speak and when to be silent.”

“God, help us to grow and go deeper in faith through study, prayer, and discernment.”

And finally, my favorite one – “God, may your will be done, whether in me, through me, around me, or in spite of me.”

When the prayer ended, it was amazing to see a chorus of “Amens” floating across my computer screen. For me, it truly was a moment where God transformed my cynicism into wonder.

And perhaps the most amazing aspect of that prayer service is that I was one of the oldest people participating in it. It was organized by two young women in their 20’s, and although there were a couple of 40ish and 50ish folks there, it was mostly young adults, and even a few teenagers who had gone to the assembly as youth advisory delegates. While not children in the technical sense, this was a prayer that was lifted by a group representing the youngest generation of leaders in the church – and the fact that they lifted such a beautiful, honest, non-partisan, non-divisive, non-selfish prayer for the future of God’s church gave me a palpable sense of awe and wonder – enough to bring me to tears as I sat in front of my computer last night.

That’s the kind of feeling that inspired the author of Psalm 29, and I pray that each one of us, if we find ourselves succumbing to the cynicism that is so common these days. I pray that each one of us can have these beautiful kinds of moments where God moves us back to a place of awe and child-like wonder. Amen.