"Moving Off Shore"	May 23, 2010
Acts 2: 1-13, Mark 4: 35-41	Pentecost
Colesville Presbyterian Church	Rev. Ken Eimer, Pastor (Interim)

One of the first science projects that children often undertake is to watch a caterpillar spin a cocoon about itself until it’s completely shrouded in a new growth stage called a chrysalis. The wonder of transformation is made real when, days later, an entirely different creature – a beautiful butterfly -- comes out of the apparently lifeless shell. Stunned by its colorful wings and its shape we can get downright romantic about the change. But if you were the caterpillar, you wouldn’t think there was anything wonderful about it.   

 

A caterpillar doesn’t modify itself into becoming a butterfly. It undergoes a complete rebuild. It dies to one way of locomotion and is born to a new way of living. Contrary to how we think about cocoons, they aren’t safe places. The cocoon is where the caterpillar risks it all. It enters into total chaos and disintegrates into a blob of gelatinous liquid -- without structure or identity -- so it can emerge with sharpened sensory perceptions and breathtaking beauty.

 

*                      *                      *                      *

 

The miracle of Pentecost signaled a complete transformation. When violent wind and tongues of fire touched the disciples’ lives we can imagine that, for a split second, they disintegrated into blobs of gelatinous liquid and emerged with sharpened perceptions and a community of faith that was breathtakingly beautiful. A description of this community is found in verses 43 through 47 in Acts chapter 2:

 

“Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. And all who believed were together and held all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their numbers those who were being saved.”

 

As one writer puts it, “Christ’s sacrifice split open the chrysalis and sent the Holy Spirit soaring out into the world.”[1]

 

But this is where the caterpillar illustration and Church part ways. Nature puts change in motion without the caterpillar’s consent. But there’s nothing automatic about a transformed life. It takes work, imagination and sacrifice.   

 

*                      *                      *                      *

 

Risk taking is part of our common conversation. We discuss its pros and cons over coffee: things being risky, things being safe, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If you’ve been in therapy, or work with a life coach, we talk about the risks we need to take to move forward. We read about entrepreneurs who’ve taken risks and who’ve gained financially as a result.

 

When you really think about it, risk taking is part of everyday life. We take risks when we commute on the interstate, when we fly domestically or abroad, when we run or bike outside or when we walk in thunder and lightning. Getting married can be risky business. Some of us have a high tolerance for risk and others of us don’t.  But engaging in risk is unavoidable. We’d never come out of our homes if we had an absolute zero tolerance for what might or might not happen to us.  

 

After the miracle of wind and fire, the apostles exercised some significant risks. They left their established homesteads, sold their goods, and held all possessions in common. New converts surrendered their religious beliefs, or radically modified them, to become part of a new community of faith. When Christians broke bread and ate with glad and generous hearts, they left their old friends behind. They suffered persecution at the hands of the state and some became martyrs. When God raised Jesus from the dead, life would never be the same.                

 

*                      *                      *                      *

 

Jesus got into a boat with his disciples to cross a lake and a great wind rose that filled it with water. Jesus was asleep and seemed rather nonchalant. The disciples, thinking they were going to perish, begged Jesus to save them and what comes next is the most important part of the story. Jesus calmed the waters and brought them to the other side.

 

We see calm waters as a good thing and it stands to reason why. Life is filled with ups and downs – sometimes with lots of conflict – so church seems to be a natural place to seek out sanctuary. In fact, that’s what we call the area of the church we’re in right now. It’s our sanctuary.   

 

A number of our hymns and spiritual songs reflect the peace of mind-calm water perspective:

 

“Rock of ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”

 

“O God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the mighty blast and our eternal home.”

What a fellowship, what a joy divine,
Leaning on the everlasting arms;
What a blessedness, what a peace is mine,
Leaning on the everlasting arms

Leaning, leaning, safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.

Or this spiritual song: “There’s a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God; a place where sin cannot molest, near to the heart of God. Jesus blest Redeemer, sent from the heart of God; hold us, who wait before thee, near to the heart of God.”

 

In these hymns and songs, Christ, or God the Father, is portrayed as a place of retreat and we need to go there on occasion. But if we replace the challenge and risk side of Christianity with quiet rest, things will get awfully tranquil in the congregation. Calm water’s peaceful but it doesn’t create a lot of passion and passion is what drove the church to grow on Pentecost. Passion is what will drive the church to grow today: passion about your Christian faith and passion about what the Church can do in the world.

 

There are hymns and spiritual songs which are more challenging. The hymn after the sermon is one of those:

 

“Come O Spirit, with your sound, like a quick wind rushing. Come from heaven and stir our hearts, each disciple touching. Mold our actions to your will, you our service giving; move within our fellowship. Transform now our living.”

 

Or the first line from this hymn:

 

“Today, we are called to be disciples of the Lord, to help to set the captives free, make plowshares out of sword.

 

Or this one:

 

Give thanks O Christian people, for all who love the Lord. Who live each day believing in God’s eternal Word. To share Christ’s love in living, to witness with each deed, to use the talents given, to plant the gospel seed.             

Let me ask you a few questions:

 

Do you think that hiding in the Rock of Ages is a compelling image for the church’s vision in the world today? Suppose we advertised on our web page that Colesville Presbyterian was a great place to snuggle in the arms of Jesus? What would that be like? Who do you think would come?   

 

The apostles leaned on Jesus but were they safe and secure from all alarms? Listen to this brief testimony from the Apostle Paul about his experience as a Christian:

 

“Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak then I am strong.”

 

Today, where Christianity is suppressed across the globe, are believers sheltered from the mighty blasts of life? I’d think it would be quite the contrary.

    

*                      *                      *                      *

 

The disciples marvel at Jesus’ wonder working power. “Even the wind and seas obey him,” they say. Jesus, on the other hand, marvels at their lack of faith. “I calmed the waters because you didn’t have enough faith to believe that you wouldn’t perish. The disciples are relieved to be on shore. Jesus seems to say that they belong on the waves. 

 

What I’d like you to see is that Jesus doesn’t promise to calm every storm in our lives. He promises to calm us when we’re in the storm. Jesus doesn’t sail us around the storm. He brings us through the storm. Jesus doesn’t call us out of risk. He calls us into it.[2]

 

Think about our gospel lesson as a symbol of something greater than itself. The storm represents uncertainty, challenge, hardship and reward. The boat is a symbol of the Church. In our context, the boat represents Colesville Presbyterian. We’re in this boat as individuals but we’re also in it together as a community of faith. Jesus is in the boat with us as we sail through the storm.   The choice is ours as to whether we’ll ask Jesus to calm the waters so we can pull Colesville into dry dock or whether we’ll weather things out on the high seas. I believe here and elsewhere, we make these choices daily.

 

Our choices make a difference because they will determine the extent to which the world sees this congregation, and other churches, as the light of the world; a light which speaks of reconciliation, grace, creative change, and God’s unconditional love or whether the world will see this congregation, and others, as just another organization that competes for people’s time, talent and money in a very busy marketplace of non-profits. Either the local church is the hope of the world or it isn’t. 

 

As we celebrate the birth of the Church on this special Sunday, where do we want to go today?

 

 

 

---