Community Church Sermons

Year C

August 15, 2010

Pentecost 12

Chasing After the Wind

Ecclesiastes 1:2; 12-14; 2:18-23

Acts 17:22-28a

Rev. Rhonda Abbott Blevins

LISTEN IN!

Sunday morning. The day when Christians all over the world gather to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy. If you’ve been a church-goer for a long time, the irony of Sunday morning worship comes as no surprise. You know that underneath our Sunday best, our neatly printed bulletins, and our best efforts to look like we’ve got our act together—underneath all of that—we’re just a mess, aren’t we? We are people groping, grasping for meaning and wholeness. Monday through Saturday you can find just about every person here in mad pursuit of that “Balm in Gilead” to heal our wounded, broken souls.

This desperate quest is not unique to you or me. Throughout the history of humankind men and women have tried to understand the purpose of life. In the first century the Athenians were seemingly manic in their hunt. The passage read earlier from the book of Acts describes a people consumed by their religion made visible by idols of every imaginable shape and size throughout the city. They even had one idol dedicated “To an Unknown God” just to make sure that they covered their bases so as to not attract wrath from some god they didn’t even know existed.

Nearly 1,000 years before that, King Solomon wrote a memoir of his existential quest in which he described his sense of meaninglessness near the end of his life. Here was a man at the top of the world! He had the resources to discover purpose through every possible human means: work, wisdom, possessions, pleasures (he had 800 wives). And what does he call all of that? A chasing after the wind. Ouch.

It seems we’re still chasing after the wind. This weekend movie theatres across the nation were packed with people eager to watch Julia Roberts portray a middle-aged woman who tries to find wholeness by traveling to Italy, India, and Bali in Eat, Pray, Love.

We see this spiritual longing brought to life in movies, in art, in music and poetry. Earlier this year, Rolling Stone Magazine placed in their “500 Greatest Songs of All Time” a driving, haunting melody with lyrics describing a deep, spiritual hunger:

I have climbed highest mountains, I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
I have run, I have crawled, I have scaled these city walls
Only to be with you
I believe in the Kingdom Come, Then all the colors will bleed into one
But yes I'm still running
You broke the bonds And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross of my shame, You know I believe it
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

This rock ballad sung by U2s Bono captured the yearning of a generation. A generation still chasing after the wind.

That brings us to today. It’s Sunday morning. Ever since last Sunday we’ve been chasing after this wind and that wind, and we’re downright tired. We’re tired from groping and grasping. So we come together to see if we can find a little bit of that “Balm in Gilead” to heal our wounded, broken souls. We gather hoping to catch a glimpse of our “true north.” So we recite our liturgy and we offer our songs hoping that somehow, something in our worship will help us remember our way home.

I don’t know if you’re like me, but I have a lot of things in my life help that help point me home. There are special people, there are significant places, there are important things that, if I have ears to listen and eyes to see, show me “a higher plane than I have found.” ^[1] My grandmother was one of those people. With her quick wit and keep observational ability, Granny was a deeply spiritual person. She wasn’t terribly religious, in fact, her wit was often far too edgy for the overly religious type. But Granny knew things. Granny could somehow see truth. She showed me a “higher plane” than I would have ever discovered without her in my life.

Granny died back in February. She didn’t have a lot of money, but she left me three things . . . things I will always treasure. And if I have ears to listen and eyes to see, these items will continue to help me find higher ground.

First of all, Granny left me her wedding ring. Like most women, this was one of her most cherished possessions. In terms of money, this is the most valuable of the three items Granny left for me. A central diamond, maybe a half carat, flanked by two small diamonds on either side. Set in silver, or possibly platinum. This ring is the symbol of love she shared with my grandfather. Now added to that rich meaning, it’s a symbol of her love for me.

Next, Granny left me the family Bible. This Bible belonged to my great-grandmother. Like all Bibles, there are timeless truths in its pages. Like many family Bibles, this book is a symbol of my family’s religion passed down through the generations. But the unique thing about this Bible, what makes this Bible different from any other Bible in the world, are the markings and scribbles in it. Dates of marriages, births, and deaths. Newspaper clippings: obituaries and graduation announcements. This is a Bible, for sure, but this is also my family’s history.

Finally, Granny left me this mirror. The reason she left me this mirror is simply because she knew that I really liked it. I complimented it on occasion as it hung in her family room. This mirror has no family significance really. It isn’t worth much. But to me, it’s priceless.

As I thought about our scripture lessons today, about how the Athenians tried to find meaning through religion, I thought about this Bible that Granny gave me. I thought about how some people actually make this book an idol or they make their brand of Christianity an idol. We see a lot of people today, Christians even, who act an awful lot like those ancient Athenians, grasping for meaning through misguided religion.

As I continued to think about our scripture lessons today, about how poor old Solomon tried to find meaning through so many things, I thought about this ring that Granny gave me. I thought about how some people try to find meaning through acquiring material wealth or through human love. We see a lot of people today, Christians even, who act an awful lot like Solomon did in his younger days, grasping for meaning through every secular path imaginable.

And then I thought about this mirror.

Most of the time when I stop to look in this mirror which now hangs in my foyer, I’m on my way out the door to go chase some wind. I’ll inspect my teeth to make sure there’s not some renegade asparagus holding on for dear life. I’ll make sure my hairs are all in place, and I’ll take another moment to make sure there’s still mostly pepper in my salt-n-pepper hair. I’ll check out the makeup . . . not so much to make people notice but enough to keep folks from having nightmares later on.

But a few days ago, I actually stopped chasing the wind long enough to look more closely into that mirror, and I discovered a hidden treasure there. I found a pearl of great price.

Listen to what the Apostle Paul says to the folks in Corinth: “Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?” ^[2]

And when I looked in that mirror that Granny gave me, there it was, staring me in the face . . . God’s dwelling place!

Friends, we all find ourselves chasing after the wind sometimes, maybe even most of the time. Around here it manifests on the golf course with folks looking for the perfect game. But in all my days I’ve never known anyone to shoot an 18! It manifests through very noble things like volunteerism and humanitarian work. Even religion can be chasing after the wind. Why do you think 34 million Americans have given up on organized religion? ^[3]

Whether work, wisdom, pleasures, possessions, or even religion, it’s all wind-chasing, because all of these things are external—outside of ourselves. But the Spirit of God dwells within. So while Julia Roberts travels the world to find meaning and Bono still hasn’t found what he’s looking for, you and I hold the key. We don’t have to go on some great spiritual quest to discover the meaning of life. All we have to do is look in the mirror. Because like Paul said to those groping, grasping Athenians, probably with a twinkle in his eye, God “is not far from each of us.” ^[4]

So here we are. It’s Sunday morning. Ever since last Sunday we’ve been chasing after this wind and that wind, and we’re downright tired. We’re tired from groping and grasping. So we come together to see if we can find a little bit of that “Balm in Gilead” to heal our wounded, broken souls. We gather hoping to catch a glimpse of our “true north.” So we recite our liturgy and we offer our songs hoping that somehow, something in our worship will help us remember our way home.

So on a Sunday morning we pause to remind each other to look in the mirror, because you know what we’ll see? The very dwelling place of God.

PRAYER
Indwelling Lord, grant us ears to hear and eyes to see that what we have been looking for is you. You are our hidden treasure. You are our pearl of great price. You dwell within the heart and soul of every man, woman, and child, so surely you dwell within us too. Help us stop chasing after the wind and find our way home to you. Amen.

__________

[1] Johnson Oatman, Jr. “I’m Pressing on the Upward Way.” Hymn text written in 1898.

[2] 1 Cor. 3:16 NIV

[3] American Religious Identification Survey.

[4] Acts 17:27b