Sermon for Sept 9, 2018; God Remembers US

Rev. George Miller
Sept 9, 2018
Genesis 6:5-22; 8:6-12; 9:8-17

Tomorrow marks a year since Irma made her way across Highlands County, ravaging Florida, and responsible for over a 100 deaths.

The storm caused us to close our church. Batteries and bottled water were in high demand, and the whole country watched as the reports came in.

It’s impossible to forget the moment the storm overcame us, the hours of ceaseless wind after the worst was over, the sidewalks overrun with rivers of water, and the uprooted trees that made it look like a bomb had blown up.

Do you recall the first night after the storm, in which there was no electricity, but we were happy to be alive, and you could see all the stars in the sky?

That afterglow didn’t last long as the cool breezes stopped, humidity rose and another rainstorm hit.

By Wednesday there were long lines waiting for gas. People driving to Okeechobee to get fuel to keep their generators going. The sense that neither the state nor Duke Energy were able or willing to help.

That slow process of waiting for the electric to come back on, bit by bit, block by block.

A week, a month, a season, a year later and things have not returned to normal.

Too many homes still with blue roofs. The town of Venus dealing with earth that never ceases to be wet and homes that are still being flooded from the floor up.

And, if we’re to be honest, the entire state has been holding its breath all summer long, anticipating another storm.

So it’s appropriate that today’s scrpture comes from Genesis and is about the Great Flood.

Today’s reading is one of the most primal, terrifying tales that one can imagine. An entire world is wiped out by a great bursting forth of water that reaches up to the highest mountains.

10 generations of all breathing life is gone, destroyed, and blotted out, while Noah and his small family of 8 are entombed in an ark that aimlessly sails over what used to be their homes, businesses, and places of worship.

How in the world has this story made its way into children’s books, nursery school ads and playpen mobiles when at its heart is the story of a god who says “Enough- it’s time to kill them all!”, then proceeds to destroy virtually every man, woman, child, cat, dog and pony?

How many of us have taken the time to full read this entire story, from chapter 6 to chapter 9? To realize that all we have here is a 3 story boat filled with 8 people and a bunch of animals.

How many have wondered just what this experience would have been like?

The growing dread and anticipation leading up to the flood.

The primal fear they would have felt as the waters broke free from the rivers and lakes and rain poured from the sky amidst thunder, lightening, and wind.

The sounds of scared animals. The screams of drowning people. The cries of help from neighbors, friends, child hood playmates…

…followed by the post storm stillness, in which Noah and his family would have felt both guilty, but glad to be alive, to look out and see the night sky full of stars.

The catching of their breath, the laughter, the giving thanks to God…

…followed soon by the boredom; the intense boredom. The waiting; the not knowing.

The aggravation that living in close quarters would cause. How they would get on each other’s nerves. Maybe Noah couldn’t stand the way his wife hummed. Maybe she couldn’t stand the stubble on his face.

Eventually after 40, 150, 365 days of being sealed up in the boat there would be fights among the 8 survivors; the triangulations; the teaming up against one another; the blaming; the shaming.

Not to mention the non-stop sounds and smells of the animals. The dander; their breath. Their poop.

The running out of supplies. The claustrophobia. The total lack of control. The false signs of hope.

The doubt- does God even remember us? Can God see us? Does God even know where we are as we float on these waters in a boat made of cypress wood?

…How many of us…

…How many of us may be thinking these very same things here and now?

How many of us today, or yesterday, or in the past year or two have wondered “Does God know the struggles I am facing?”

“Does God see me?”

“Does God even remember me at all?”

Thinking of our specific, cultural, geographical reality in which we are located, these thoughts may not be uncommon at all.

Here, in the center of the state separated from top notch hospitals, modern day museums, and Macy’s.

Most of us were not born or raised here. Most of us came here because of a job, or retirement, or moved here from the coast because the people and languages no longer seemed familiar.

Yes, there are great things about living here- we got the sun in the morning and the moon at night, a sky full of stars, small town sensibility and friendliness that can’t be found anywhere else.

But in reality, many of us, in some ways, are alone. There are those whose majority of their family is up north or spread around the nation.

Grandchildren, nieces, nephews are a long car ride and plane trip away.

No matter how much volunteer work you do, or acquaintances you have here, it can sometimes feel like you are in an ark, surrounded by 2, 4, 8 people at the most.

If we were to be honest, and allow ourselves to see the rain and acknowledge the waters, how many would say that as we age, we may feel as though we are facing our own wiping-away kind of storm?

The kind in which the friends you went to school with are getting very sick or dying away?

Favorite musicians and war heroes are being buried.

Family members are no more. Not just grandparents, but siblings, cousins, folk you played with as children that have taken their last breath.

The beloved family pet that is no more. The home you grew up in now someone else’s address.

Even memories are being washed away as we continue to lose our hearing, experience a dimming of our eyes, and no longer recognize the songs on the radio or the celebrities in the news.

It can be as though the world we always knew is being washed away and a 100 people becomes 50 becomes 25 becomes 12 becomes 8.

As the floods rise and consume the past, the present, and the future, we feel the walls of our own personal ark getting closer and closer, left to wonder if God remembers and if we matter at all…

How much do you think that Noah thought these things, as did his wife, their children, and perhaps even the animals on the boat?

These deeply spiritual questions were no doubt on the minds of Eve and Adam when they left the garden, Sarah and Abraham as the wandered the land, Joseph as he was cast into prison, and Jesus as he hung dying on the Cross.

These questions of “Do I matter to God?” “Does God see me?” “Does God remember me?” are as old as time and as powerful then as they are now.

One reason we have the Bible is because people needed to know and passed on the assurance that when we face our own cross, when we come across our own sea, when we are left wandering in our own wilderness, when we are facing our own floods, that it is not for naught and we are not alone.

Assurance that even when our world becomes limited to a few places we can go and a few people we know, that God is still real, and God is still besides us.

How can we make that claim?

Because we can look at this narrative and see right here in chapter 8, verse 1 “But God remembered Noah…and the waters subsided.”

What a beautiful line: God remembered Noah.

Though the floods had come; though all seemed lost; though situations were not easy, Noah and his family had not been forgotten by God.

God knew exactly who they were and what they were going through. In fact, God had never lost track or lost sight of them.

The statement that God remembered does not imply that God could ever forget. It does not mean that God is capable of losing track of us or misplaces us like a set of keys.

In Hebrew, to say that God remembers means that God knows, and God is ready to act.

To say that God remembered Noah means that just like the sparrow, God’s eyes could see just where Noah was and what he was going through.

To say that God remembered Noah means that God could hear his cries, could hear the thoughts in his head, could hear the contents of his heart.

To say that God remembered Noah is to state that God had an intimate, caring connection with Noah, in which God loved him very much.

God remembered Noah because God was willing to be close to him when he called upon him and his family to endure the floods and difficult times.

God remembers. Even if we don’t.

God remembers, even when we no longer can.

God remembers, even when we refuse to remember God.

God sees us, even if our eyes can no longer see as clearly or as far now.

God hears us, even when our hearing aids crackle, whir, or stop working all together.

God knows where we are, even if we have moved away from everyone else, or go into the Palms, or across the state, or back up north.

And even if our own minds go, and we are no longer able to remember ourselves, God remembers.

Like the sparrows, God’s eyes are always on us.

Like the Israelites, God’s ears are always attuned to our voices.

Like Noah, God always remembers who we are and what we are going through.

Like the grace of God, there is nothing we can do to earn this. Like the rising of the Sun, there is nothing we can do to change it.

And like the rainbow in the sky, there is nothing we can do to control it.

God is active in our lives. God is present. God remembers us. God does not forget.

Amen and amen.