Loving God, breath your Spirit upon us that we may receive Your Word afresh and anew. Take my lips and speak through them; take our minds and think through them; take our hearts and set them on fire. We ask it in the name of Jesus. Amen.
I would like to start with a little poem today. It is called "Fathers Are Wonderful People" and it goes like this:
Fathers are wonderful people, too little understood.
And we do not sing their praises as often as we should.
For, somehow, Father seems to be the man who pays the bills.
While Mother binds up little hurts and nurses all our ills, and Father struggles daily to live up to his image as protector and provider and hero of the scrimmage.
And perhaps that is the reason we sometimes get the notion that Fathers are not subject to the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad's heart, where no one else can see,
You'll find he's sentimental and as soft as he can be.
But he's so busy every day in the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff to his partner and his wife.
But Fathers are just wonderful in a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments and accolades of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires to fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him and to bring them happiness
and like Our Heavenly Father, he's a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on to be always on our side.
The poem is about a model family - with father and mother and children living together. Would that this were always the case. What struck me about the poem, aside from it's lovely attempt to praise Fathers - as they ought to be praised, were the lines in the middle, the lines that go
we sometimes get the notion that Fathers are not subject to the thing we call emotion, But if you look inside Dad's heart, where no one else can see, You'll find he's sentimental and as soft as he can be.
For many people in my generation, and I think for many in most generations before mine and even those after mine, it was and is easy to get the impression that our fathers had or have no emotion, that they indeed left or leave the sentimental stuff to their wives.
But it is not so.
Underneath everything men - as much as women, fathers - as much as mothers feel and feel deeply.
It is just that so many of them get caught up in the performance of duties in fulfilling roles that they are expected to fulfil or think that they are expected to fulfil, that they suppress their emotions.
They are busy every day. They are trying to make a home and life for their families. Many fathers in Hong Kong work 10 to 11 hours in a day. They have expectations of themselves and of their children, and the achievement and measurement of these things sometimes becomes more important than their own inner selves and the inner and essential aspects of their children. Performance becomes more important then persons, ability more important than attitude, learning more important than loving, and earning more important than enjoyment, though they do not intend for this to be so, though they do not plan for this to be so.
And the result is that some grow tired and depressed, while their children become alienated from them, never understanding why daddy is away from them so much.
Some burn out.
Some simply acquire a reputation as being demanding and unappreciative of their children.
But underneath; underneath is flesh and blood
- flesh and blood that grows tired and that screams out for rest.
- flesh and blood that demands spiritual food - but believes that it must feed others first
- flesh and blood that needs guidance - but believes that it is supposed to be the one who guides.
It is very hard to be a man, it is very hard to be a father, and it is hard to admit to this because men, because fathers, believe that they must be strong, and are expected to be.
In today's reading from First Kings, we are introduced to a man at the end of his rope.
Elijah was worn out! He couldn't go any further. He was exhausted. He was at the end of his rope!
He had fought the good fight.
He had battled against the false prophets of the court of Ahab the King. He had spoken against the idolatry fostered by Queen Jezebel. He had performed his duties - he had lived up to his calling. And as a result he was condemned to die by those angry with him; by those God had sent him to preach against.
And so he fled into the wilderness - alone - afraid - feeling sorry for himself - and lay down under a miserable old broom tree, a bush barely able to give shade to bird, much less a man, and wishing that he was dead, telling God that he had enough, he fell asleep.
And what happened?
An angel woke him up a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water. Elijah ate and drank and lay down again.
Again the angel woke him and he ate and drank.
Notice that the angel who ministers to him does not do 'spiritual' stuff, he does not say to Elijah, "pray about it, Elijah, and you'll feel better".
No the angel feeds him and makes him rest, telling him that if he does not, the journey will be too much for him...
Sometimes we just need time out and someone to support us. We really need to pause to eat and drink - so that we can continue the journey we are on. Only then are we ready for prayer - only then can we be ready to be spiritually restored.
The story continues with Elijah continuing on into the wilderness until he comes to Mt Horeb, to the Mountain of God, to the place where God revealed himself to Moses and to Israel in cloud and in fire: and there the Lord speaks to him and tells him that he is about to pass by him, that he is about to show himself to him.
Elijah goes out to the mouth of the cave where he has spent the night and looks for the Lord in the strong wind that comes upon the mountain, and then in the earthquake that shakes it, and in the fire that follows, but he does not find God there.
But after the fire comes a still small voice - some translations call it a shear silence, others a gentle whisper. And in this still small voice within - in this inner silence - God visits with Elijah.
Picture this story.
We have wind, earthquake and fire. All of these are busy, busy, busy things. And LOUD! But God is not in them.
Have you ever felt like Elijah.
Have you ever felt that God is not listening to you,
that no one is really following God, that you are the only one left and you cannot find God? That you might as well give up and die?
Maybe it's all the busyness, all the commotion in your life, all the hurry and activities, all the trying to cope, all the work you do to make a good life, that gets in the way of your living, that gets in the way of seeing what you need to see, and hearing what need to hear.
Sometimes we need to just stop and listen. To listen to the silence. To look for God in the calm - instead of in the midst of activity.
That is what Elijah was led to do.
Elijah, in his exhaustion, in his fear, timed out.
He got away for a while from the activities that God had called to do; and in his fear and his pain, his loneliness and his hunger, he called out to God and told God of his weakness, and then sought God's presence.
And God became present to him in the sheer silence within - and in that visit God equipped Elijah to once again go out and perform those things that God wanted him to do, he commissioned Elijah, and he assured Elijah that he was not alone - that many faithful persons were yet with him.
Sometimes that is what we need as men - and as fathers.
We need to time out, to get in touch with God, to listen to the silence rather than to the noise and the activity that comes and goes about us.
We need to pause and to listen so that we might have the strength and the guidance we need to do what we are called to do.
Think of the number of times that Jesus took time apart; how he would send the disciples on ahead of him while he paused to pray on a mountain side; how he would prepare himself for his next round of activity by first going away by himself to pray, by first going away to listen to the silence.
Fathers need,
Mothers need,
we all need,
restoration.
It can be found in silence. In being apart - in being with God.
These times allow us to refocus, to refresh, to remember what is important and what is not.
There is a story I heard, and it was called "Priceless Scribbles" and it concerns a father who touched his child's life in an unexpected way.
It started this way:
As my father walked into the living room, my brother cowered slightly; he sensed he had done something wrong. From a distance I could see he had opened my Father's brand new hymnal and scribbled all over the first page with a pen. Staring at my father fearfully, we both waited for his punishment.
My father picked up his prized hymnal, looked at it carefully and then sat down, without saying a word. Books were precious to him; he was a minister with several academic degrees. For him, books were knowledge.
What he did next was remarkable. Instead of punishing my brother, instead of scolding, or yelling, he took the pen from my brother's hand, and then wrote in the book himself, alongside the scribbles that John had made.
"John's work, 1959, age 2. How many times have I looked into your beautiful face and into your warm, alert eyes looking up at me and thanked God for the one who has now scribbled in my new hymnal. You have made the book sacred, as have your brother and sister to so much of my life."
"Wow", I thought, "This is punishment?"
The author goes on to say how that hymnal became a treasured family possession, how it was tangible proof that their parents loved them, how it taught the lesson that what really matters is people, not objects; patience, not judgement; love, not anger.
These are the things that come to us as men, as fathers, as humans, when we pause to listen to the silence when we stop and seek out God.
The poem that began this sermon suggested that we do not sing the praises of our fathers as often as we should, and this is true.
We do not appreciate often enough the humanity of our fathers, how they struggle to do their best by us, how they labour every bit as hard as our mothers to birth us - how they dream for us and work for us and grow tired for us.
I call you today to remember to take some time to pause and listen to the silence and then to go on, to do what God is calling you to do - renewed in the strength that he provides.
I call you to pray for your fathers and for men everywhere: to pray that they too may pause and eat and drink and listen to the silence, to the still small voice within, and rise up knowing that they are not alone, that they have both God and you with them - to will and to do what is good and right to do.
Praise be to God, day by day. Amen!
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