Through Our Stories We Make Sense; 1 Kings 19:1-8

 

Rev. George Miller

November 7, 2021

1 Kings 19:1-8

 

Today’s sermon is dedicated to a wonderful, sweet person who has been a blessing to our church, and a blessing to my own theological, pastoral growth- Larry Bob.

 

There is so much we could talk about regarding today’s reading.

 

We can discuss Queen Jezebel; the mental state of Elijah.  I could blather on about what happens before and after today’s story.  But there’s no reason.  Today’s message is going to keep it simple. 

 

On Tuesday we had a lively Bible Study.  Larry Bob asked an insightful question. He unknowingly greased the ecclesiological gears in my mind.

 

Why do you come here each Sunday to worship and hear a preacher preach?  Why do we tell the stories we tell?

 

After all- we have heard these stories again and again; it should be all be sooo simple-

 

Once upon a time there was a holy cosmic being who looked out upon a dark heap of nothing and said “Let there be.”

 

And there it was.

 

And it was meant to be stress-free.  To appreciate what we have.  To walk with God in the cool of the day.

 

But we didn’t understand.  So when we became enslaved, God set us free.

 

God parted the waters and said “Just be willing to take that first step, and I will be with you.”  And God was.

 

In the wilderness, God said “Don’t look back.  Trust that I will provide- gather only what you need, and I’ll lead you to a place where you’ll have milk and honey.  Just be my people, and let me be your God.”

 

Even after we messed it up, God sent a prophet who said “God doesn’t want objects and things, what God wants, what God has always wanted is that you do what is just, enjoy being kind, and you walk with God in your daily coming and going.”

 

Simple.

 

Even after we laughed that off, God sent us a Savior who said “I’ll meet you at the shore.  I’ll meet you at the mountaintop.  I’ll be with you at weddings.  I’ll be with you in sickness.  I’ll feed you at my Father’s Table.”

 

But what did we do- we made it oh so complicated with indulgent buildings, back and forth bickering, and finger pointing about who’s out and who’s in.

 

But what do we have, through this all?

 

Our stories. Our stories that we tell again and again.  The question we can ask is “Why?”  Why do we tell these stories? 

 

Why do we need to be retold, why do we focus so much on the preaching moment when perhaps we should just be bagging groceries, or sipping coffee, or raising more funds for Haiti?

 

And an answer is this- that as human beings, it is through stories that we make sense, it is through stories that we understand, it is through stories that we remember.

 

There is no doubt that every one of us here has had a day, or a week, or a year in which we have felt like Elijah.

   You’re scared.

   You’re tired.

   You’re unsure.

You’re lonely.

You want to die.

You’re without hope.

 

And when we are scared or tired, unsure or lonely, we often forget.

 

We forget the victories we had before.

  We forget who we are.

     We forget moments of pleasure.

 

So, we come to worship to hear again, and to be reminded of the stories-

 

the stories of our ancestors, the stories of our faith’s formation, the stories of God.

 

By being reminded of those stories we find the ability to journey on, the strength to cry out, we find the ability to “be” for just one more day.

 

So often, we can feel like Elijah-

Frightened and afraid,

Alone and lonely,

Unable to keep our eyes open,

Thinking it’s better to just… disappear.

 

And then we hear the stories.

  The God who creates.

   The God who frees.

    The God who parts waters.

     The God who says

       “Go….and I will go with you.”

 

Is it really the lavish buildings that God dwells in, or the ornate stoles we wear?

 

Does the presence of God require saying the right words in the right way, or giving the most beautiful prayer?

 

Or perhaps it is in the stories we tell, the stories we hear, when we are at our absolute bottom, when things are at their absolute worst,

 

That we find who we really are. 

What we can truly endure. 

How we can live our best lives.

 

Thank God for the stories of our ancestors, for they are our stories too.

 

And when we hunger, when we are under a broom tree, when we are feeling lost and thirsty in a wilderness,

 

It can often be the stories that keep us going, that keep us right beside God.

 

…Once upon a time, when there was nothing but darkness and chaos, there was a great being of love.

 

This force of love said “Let there be light.”

 

And there was, and there is.

 

And our stories allow that light to shine, shine, shine.

 

For that, we can say “Amen.”