Traralgon 27th Jan ‘08

Ps 27:1-5 ; Is 9:1-4

The Lord is my Light and Salvation

Read Ps 27:1,3

Great words aren’t they? One of my favourite Psalms. Very reassuring. But what does it really mean in practice? I want to reflect on that today.

I led the funeral for Jack Maskrey on Wednesday this week. On the way to the Crematorium I had the radio on and was listening to Richard Stubbs. he was commenting on the death of Heath Ledger. He was obviously quite affected by it – a young man in his prime, dying quite out of the blue and unexpected.

What struck him was the finality of it. And he saw it through the eyes of a parent losing a child – one of the hardest things! Devastating!

He also mentioned the accident in Melbourne. A family in their car, apparently just stopped in traffic and a truck runs into the back of them killing the two children.

And he asked how can any parent cope with this?? How does one cope with the death of your son or daughter? He could not imagine it. Nor can I. And I can’t answer that because I’ve never faced it and pray I never will. But I know many here have, tragically. Later in the service I will be inviting anyone who has experienced the death of their son or daughter to speak on the question, how do you cope?

What does faith mean in this situation? What difference does it make? What does it mean in the tragedies of life?

READ Ps 27:1, 3.

I received a book for Christmas, ‘Heart of Darfur’, by Lisa French Blaker.

Written by a nurse who spent 9 months in Darfur with the aid organisation, Doctors without Borders. Darfur, in Western Sudan, is an immensely tragic situation. The people live in very harsh environment, but it is war and ethnic violence that is causing the greatest tragedy. It’s a horrific and apparently hopeless situation where life is cheap and freely wasted.

I wonder what would this verse mean for someone living in Darfur? What would it mean for me if I were there? I can only imagine that I would be very afraid at times, as the author was.

I got the impression that the lady who wrote this book was a nominal Christian. She indicated that she would pray sometimes but declared no real faith.

In Darfur she soon stopped praying. She was overwhelmed by the ruthless violence, horror and hopelessness she faced every day.

But the local people she worked with were Muslims. Every day at the appropriate times they would pray. Every morning before they started their day they would thank God for the opportunities the day would bring.

In the middle of this ‘hell’ they would thank God for life. It kept them positive, it sustained their hope. Lisa said she found it soothing listening to them repeating their prayers, the consistency of it, day in and day out, and it helped her too.

Is that what faith does? Just soothes us and keeps us positive, but offers no real hope?

Most of us would be aware of Richard Dawkins scathing critique of religious faith. He’s written a couple of books, one titled, ‘The God Delusion’, and he was on TV last year. I haven’t read his books but I understand he claims that belief in God is just that, a delusion, and wishful thinking.

Is that what it is for those men in Darfur, just wishful thinking, a delusion? Certainly God doesn’t seem to change anything in answer to their prayers.

I subscribe to an excellent magazine, New Internationalist, that focuses on global social justice. In one edition there was an insert that advertised Richard Dawkins’ books. The next edition included a letter critical of Dawkins. It was only a small letter, but it included reference to Darfur and the way faith sustained the people there.

This letter drew an incredible response from other readers. To quote the magazine, there was a ‘storm of letters’ defending Dawkins – they printed only six! One writes, “Glynn may well imagine that all the people of Darfur have to sustain themselves is a belief in a ‘Higher Being’. I, however, think that such sustenance is nothing but a cruel delusion.”

READ Ps 27:1,3

Is this nothing more than a cruel delusion?

I stand before you as one who is sustained and who finds solace in a belief in a ‘Higher Being’. A God revealed in Jesus Christ. A God who associates himself with human frailty and human tragedy.

It is faith that provides a focus for my life, it is faith that provides meaning and purpose.

Am I deluded? Are you? … Perhaps.

One of the things which has surprised me about growing older has been my changing faith.

As a young man I was so certain. I was certain of who God is and what life is about. Things were black and white, my faith was strong and I knew what I wanted out of life. I expected my faith to grow even more and become stronger as I grew older.

In some ways I suppose it has. I think I’m wiser now anyway, and more thoughtful. Yet I have many more doubts now as well, I’m not as certain as I once was. Things are not black and white anymore for me. I’m more open to the possibility that I may be deluded. I would have not have considered such a thought as a young person. But I don’t find that threatening now as I would have then. I don’t have to defend God, nor do I need defend the truth. Because truth is true, regardless whether people believe it or not. So I don’t need get uptight about Richard Dawkins being critical, because God is still in control, and will be long after Dawkins is forgotten.

I have seen enough evidence in my own life and in the lives of those around me to be entirely convinced of the reality of God, to be assured of salvation, and to have inner peace.

Maybe my understanding of God is wrong, there is certainly much I can learn, (and where better to learn than in a faith community?)

I see so much harm and conflict in the world created, or at least fed, by religion. It can be very difficult when people say, “This is the way it is. This is what God says. This is right!” I’m reluctant to say that. It’s worse still when they impose their belief on others! This is the real danger of religion I believe, that Dawkins quite correctly criticises.

For me, I’ve decided God is too big for me to understand.

I’ve decided there are many things that I will never understand in this world, and that’s OK.

And at times I’ve let go of God, only to discover that God still holds on to me!

(There are times when I don’t feel worthy of being a Minister and struggle with my calling, only to be encouraged by my friends.)

And it is my faith that sustains me and gives me solace and makes it worth getting out of bed each morning. Not that I know God, but that God knows me.

Not that I can claim God as mine, but that God claims me as his.

READ Ps 27:1,3

Why do we need not be afraid?

Is it because God will protect us and our family so that no harm will come to us? No, we know that’s not the case in life. Tragedy can happen to any person.

Is it because even if we are killed then there is reward in heaven? Well, that’s a great thing, obviously, but our faith means much more than that.

Paul said that if our hope is for this life only and not for the future then we are to be pitied more than anyone else.

I would add that if our hope is for the next life only and not this life, then we are also to be pitied.

One of the critical messages of the incarnation, God born as a human being, is that God is involved in this life now. What happens to us now is important. It matters to God so much that he lived it!

We have a future hope surely, a great hope, but our hope is not just for the future. It is for the present. God is involved in our lives, God hears our prayers. Our faith makes a difference.

This is where it gets hard to understand, I think. God answers our prayers and helps and protects us now, and yet Christians still suffer tragedy, and prayers still go ‘unanswered’. This is contradictory but it’s what we live with.

In my own life I am convinced that God has helped me and provided for me in all sorts of ways. Some quite profound, some almost mundane.

(Tell story of buying a new suit in Melbourne. Also provision of housing but no details.)

Yet at the same time that I would claim that God looks after us in little ways I am also all too aware that children die and suffer with parents and communities praying for them. We live with this dilemma, not ever really being able to explain it.

But of one thing I am entirely convinced. God loves me, and you.

And ultimately, whatever happens, God will see us through. More than anything else, I think, our prayers change us. God works with us and strengthens us, and does not allow anything to happen to us that we cannot cope with. So …READ Ps 27:1,3

Ian has written a song from these words which we will now sing. And afterwards I will ask anyone who has experienced the death of their son or daughter to come forward and share, if they are able, on that question, ‘How do you cope?’ And what does faith mean to you in the face of that tragedy?