The shape our hopes take

 

Exodus 17: 1-7
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
March 12, 2023

Photo of a small red rock canyon with green growth interspersed and a waterfall cascading into a light blue pool of water below.

Taking a page from the senior pastor of the Newark United Methodist Church, I want to share a well-loved familiar story with you this morning, sometimes called the parable of the drowning man, otherwise known as Two Boats and a Helicopter.



A storm descends on a small town, and the downpour soon turns into a flood. As the waters rise, the local preacher kneels in prayer on the church porch, surrounded by water. By and by, one of the townsfolk comes up the street in a canoe.


"Better get in, Preacher. The waters are rising fast."


"No," says the preacher. "I have faith that God will save me."


Still the waters rise. Now the preacher is up on the balcony, wringing his hands in supplication, when another guy zips up in a motorboat.


"Come on, Preacher. We need to get you out of here. The levee's gonna break any minute."


Once again, the preacher is unmoved. "I shall remain. God will see me through."


After a while the levee breaks, and the flood rushes over the church until only the steeple remains above water. The preacher is up there, clinging to the cross, when a helicopter descends out of the clouds, and a state trooper calls down to him through a megaphone.


"Grab the ladder, Preacher. This is your last chance."

Once again, the preacher insists that God will deliver him.

And, predictably, he drowns.


A pious man, the preacher goes to heaven. After a while he gets an interview with God, and he asks the Almighty, "God, I had unwavering faith in you. Why didn't you deliver me from that flood?"


God shakes her head. "What did you want from me? I sent you two boats and a helicopter."



This story has many variations—a rabbi who has faithfully fulfilled God’s commands but is not saved, a Buddhist practitioner who appeals to Kwan Yin, the bodhisattva of compassion but is not saved. It was used in an episode of The West Wing, in which President Bartlett, a devout Catholic, sought guidance from a priest, a rabbi, and a Quaker and in his own prayers as to how to commute the death sentence of a convict at the last minute. It was updated during the pandemic, converting the flood into the virus and the two boats and the helicopter into public health policies, social media posts, mask mandates, social distancing, and vaccines.



Another beloved parable about footprints in the sand also shows us that in faith and life help shows up in ways we don’t expect.



One night I dreamed a dream.
I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.

For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand, one belonging to me and one to my Lord.
When the last scene of my life shot before me I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
There was only one set of footprints.
I realized that this was at the lowest and saddest times of my life.
This bothered me and I questioned the Lord about my dilemma.

“Lord, You told me when I decided to follow You, You would be with me all along the way.
But during the most troublesome times of my life there is only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why, when I need You most, You leave me.”

He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you during your trials and testing.
When you saw only one set of footprints, It was then that I carried you.”



The one variation to this story is a comic strip that includes this ending: “That long groove over there is when I dragged you a while.”

Two-pane cartoon. First pane: Jesus with another person, "My child, I never left you. Those places with one set of footprints? It was then that I carried you." Second pane: Jesus points his finger, "That long groove over there is when I dragged you for a while." Cartoon by chainsawsuit.com

Both stories illustrate how we human beings tend to look for wisdom and hope in the ways we expect them or want them to show up, how we sometimes forget that we accomplish nothing alone, how sometimes we can be our own worst friend—to ourselves and to others—and yet grace finds us anyway. The one who drowned still found themselves in the company of heaven. The one who was accompanied and carried and dragged was never alone.



The Israelites in the desert could use a helicopter or some carrying but it sounds like they’re being dragged by Moses and thus by God. The wilderness of Sin doesn’t refer to the moral concept of sin but a middle of nowhere kind of place, a precarious kind of time. That place where what was known is fading but what will be is uncertain. That time when we want our hopes to take a familiar shape, something that tells us we will be cared for, that we won’t be just delivered from suffering but delivered to wholeness.



That unexpected water from the rock was the shape of the people’s hopes. Moses and some of the elders had to go ahead of the people and bring them to where God would be waiting for them. They needed to know that God was with them even in the middle of nowhere, even when all signs pointed toward death and devastation. It is usually when we are most quarrelsome and contentious, when we are anxious, when we are grieving what was, even if it was being enslaved in Egypt or any other empire, that we need reassurance of connection, belonging, and relationship.



Right now my hopes are the shape of my brother’s friends. They have unreservedly offered themselves to help me and my mother in any way they can. They are disrupting their lives by caring for Rick’s pets, looking after his house, gathering important papers, telling me they are at my service, ready to do what my mom and I need at this time.



My brother didn’t have a faith community. Instead, he had a fellowship of friends. A hobby shop that Rick frequented offered him a job after he helped a customer with a big sale. When new hires were oriented at the landscaping outfit he worked for, they were told they had to keep up with Rocket. He knew no stranger, only friends he hadn’t met yet. It was his relationship with the world around him that created the hopes that surround me now.



It's not easy being open-hearted. It opens us to risk, to heartbreak, to being in contention with the world around us. It’s not easy being in the middle of deliverance from suffering, deliverance to wholeness. It opens us to anxiety and quarreling with God and each other. It tests us, we test God, we test each other.



The other day I saw a meme that said, “Hydration tip: Drinking one gallon of water helps you avoid other people’s drama because you are too busy peeing.” Those Israelites not only needed to hydrate to stay off of God’s nerves and each other’s but to trust God and each other. Sometimes I think God really is a Jewish mother who wants to make sure we take care of ourselves and each other without hurting each other or ourselves because life is hard enough.

Photo of a glass with water being poured into it, with this caption: "Hydration tip: Drinking 1 gallon of water a day helps you avoid other people's drama because you are too busy peeing. Stay hydrated."

What is your quarrel with God right now? What wilderness do you need to be liberated from and what wholeness do you need to be delivered to? What shape are your hopes taking in unexpected ways? We’re going to be in the desert for a while. Let’s be good and kind and just while we’re here. Let’s be hope for each other.

Benediction


I will lift the cloud of night before you
What is wrong I’ll make it right before you
All your battles I will fight before you
And the high place I’ll bring down
When you go and lose your way, I’ll lead you
On the produce of the land I’ll feed you
And a home within my heart I’ll deed you
And the high place I’ll bring down