This is the third sermon in an our Advent series entitled “Rhythms of Rest.”

As the book of Job begins, the title character is living the ancient Hebrew equivalent of the American Dream. He has a big family; he’s got health and wealth; he’s got the respect of his peers; he’s highly regarded as a morally righteous, spiritually pious person. He’s ticking all the boxes. 

And then, Satan enters the picture. (I can’t help but think of the church lady character played by Dana Carvey on SNL whenever I say the word “Satan” out loud.) Don’t think of Satan here as the guy with horns. Satan in Scripture is more like the prosecuting attorney of heaven, who is supposed to keep tabs on humans and then report back to God on them. Satan says to God, “Yeah, this guy Job is righteous, but only because you’ve given him all the goodies — family, wealth, respect. Take all that away, and he will curse you.” So God agrees to let Satan prosecute his case against Job. And everything is taken from Job — his family, his wealth, his health, the respect of his peers. Thus, setting up the perennial question: Why do bad things happen to good people?

This sermon is the first in our Advent series, “Rhythms of Rest.”

Psalm 63:1-8

This past summer, I was sitting in my backyard when I felt the sun on my face. Not an uncommon occurrence when one is sitting outside, but I don’t normally feel the sun on my face when I sit in that part of the yard because a tree is usually shading me. So, I looked up and noticed that that tree had far fewer leaves than usual because of the drought, and the ones that were there looked wilted, like they were barely hanging on. The foliage was sparse enough that quite a bit more sunlight was coming through the canopy, thus — sun on my face. I immediately got up and watered the tree, and I did this a couple more times over the next few days, but it was no use. The tree needed not to be in a “dry and weary land where there is no water,” to quote our Psalmist. It needed a season of life-giving rains.

Excerpts from Hebrews 11 and 12

A few weeks ago, I went to my first cross country meet ever, to watch Patrick run.It was a beautiful October day. We were in Castro Valley, at a school up in the hills with this amazing three-bridge view of the Bay. What’s not to love? 

Well, the cross country course, as I found out later. It was by far the most challenging course of the season. I heard one runner from Alameda High, who had already completed her run, say to her friends as another run was about to begin: “They have no idea what awaits them.”

Mark 4:35-41

Years ago, my friend Becky and her husband Jon were sailing on a large lake in New Mexico. Jon was an experienced sailor, and when they began their day, it was sunny and hot and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. No rain was in the forecast. It was a very typical New Mexico day. 

And then, just that suddenly, the winds began. High winds. Winds that rocked the boat, tipping it over onto its sides. Jon said, “We’ve got to head in.” They immediately sprang into action, manning and womaning the sails, trying to use the winds to steer their boat into shore. The winds got worse and became chaotic, blowing in different directions. “Let’s put the sails down,” said Jon. Still, the winds buffeted them, and the boat swamped and capsized. They fell into the water, holding onto the boat. Still, the winds. “It got really scary,” Becky told me. But, someone in another boat, battling the storm themself, came over and rescued them.

Mark 6:7-13

What kind of a traveller are you? Are you someone who fits everything into one neat carry-on bag or do you check luggage plus tote as much on-board as possible? In my minds’ eye, I am the former. Except for those years when Patrick was a young child and I had to haul a car seat onto the plane plus a bag full of toys to engage him during a five-hour flight plus flight plus snacks and drinks plus diapers (oh, the horror!), except for those years, I aspire to travel light.  The problem is, I am also what someone called a “defensive packer.”  I want to be prepared for whatever might happen or whatever I might feel like doing or whatever I might feel like wearing. What if it rains? What if I want to go bird watching and I need binoculars? What if those shoes give me blisters? What if those earrings don’t go with that outfit? (Again, the horror.)

The photos above is of an Amish farm near Sheri’s home in Ohio. This sermon is based on Mark 4:26-34.

I loved reading Frog and Toad stories to Patrick when he was young. And my favorite Frog and Toad story was the one we just heard. If I were to psychoanalyze myself, I would say that the overfunctioner in me — especially the overfunctioning parent in me — recognized myself in Toad.  My Inner Toad believes that it is not enough to plant a seed (or birth a child) and sit back and let the organic mystery of growth happen. My Inner Toad believes that I have to do things — many things — to make this mystery happen. I have to hover over my seed and anxiously watch it. Is it growing yet? Why not?  If I yell louder, will that result in growth? Oh no! Why is my seed delayed in growing, according to the unrealistic timeline I have set for it? Something is wrong and certainly requires my intervention.  Let’s read a book or go online or consult an expert. Just like Toad convinces himself that his seed is afraid to grow, I’ll come up with some story about why my seed isn’t growing and then focus all my efforts around that story. All this work and worry will exhaust me.  It is such hard work.