WLSU: Believing Now

“we have a serious water problem in the sanctuary” the text read. No capital letters, no punctuation. No time for all that. Then a text immediately following, “like serious”.

I began to text her back, and then just called. She picked up immediately but was talking to someone else, then finally she said to me, “Can you hear me?” I could. “Phil, it’s bad.” I said tell me, and she described the inches of water that covered the entire sanctuary of our church – front to back. It had not only flooded our worship space but had gone down to our undercroft – which is the fancy church word for basement – and was flooding that too. She was with one of our priests, Herschel, and they were exploring the damage, and trying to figure out the source.

“Can we still use the rest of the building?” I asked and she said she thought so. “The Great Hall?” I asked – meaning could we move worship to our Parish Hall. “Yep.” She said, and we hung up. By the time I got to church, a dozen people – staff, clergy, and lay people - were already in full motion getting the Great Hall ready. Herschel was in our smaller chapel which was filled for our first service of the day. Kris and Cory were already in the sanctuary mopping and vacuuming up the water. Keenan was setting up chairs. Francie was placing flowers. Everyone was on the move. But also I noticed everyone involved was laughing and smiling. You know the laughter of people who know everything is screwed up but at least we’re together?

Soon people began to arrive for the 9 o’clock service, which is our largest. They piled into our parish hall, all smiles and grace and understanding and playfulness. I was overwhelmed. This day started in disaster and was met with grace by every single person involved. There were so many opportunities for panic, sadness, or frustration – and I’m sure those feelings were felt here and there, but the overriding sense was that we have got this, that we’ve got each other, that we know what’s important.

And I know. I know we have insurance. I know what ended up happening was a tiny little thing: A pipe had burst. There was some water damage that was not catastrophic, that would be repaired, that would be covered. And it does not compare to the damage and disaster that has befallen our siblings in Florida, North Carolina, and Tennessee after the recent hurricanes. It amounted to a minor inconvenience. We are safe and sound and will be back to normal so quickly. We are a fortunate group. Even in our misfortune. We are privileged by our resources and insurance.

At the same time, our response to the trouble we faced was revelatory to me. I say revelatory, though it’s worth noting it didn’t reveal anything to me I didn’t already know about God. But we can forget so easily how love and grace work to transform our lives. I already knew how grateful I was to have the people of this church in my life, to be a part of theirs. I already knew that they are a good-hearted, flexible, loving, understanding, and resourceful bunch. None of this was new. But it was revealed to me all over again.

When I think like this then look again to the victims of the hurricanes, something else is revealed to me: It is tempting to dwell on how divided we are as a people these days. We are reminded in the aftermath of that devastation of the power of our belonging to each other. We hear story after story of people coming together, pulling each other out of the wreckage, caring for one another, giving so freely, receiving so graciously, loving so fiercely.

Herschel preached that Sunday about our baggage – about the things we have to let go in order to follow Jesus. Why do we have such a hard time letting go of our baggage? Our preconceived notions, biases, and defense mechanisms? Why can’t we just walk the road down which Jesus leads us and trust God?

Herschel reminded us that the part of our resistance is uncertainty: A future life in which we follow Jesus is fraught with uncertainty. The life to which Jesus points, Herschel said, evades human understanding and that causes fear for us. I was thinking about Anny’s text message, and how uncertain things are. How that sink in the back of the church was fine yesterday, and was burst and flooding today. I was thinking about the uncertainty we all feel about the coming weeks and months in our beloved country. It wasn’t just a busted pipe – uncertainty is scary and there’s so much of it for us.

Herschel preached that when we get scared for our own futures, we handcuff Jesus to our wants and desires. But Jesus will not be derailed. We may misunderstand what it means to follow Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t misunderstand what it means to lead us, to love us, to draw us into the heart of God. This same life that is fraught with uncertainty is pregnant with possibility. The belonging to which Jesus points is likewise endlessly, eternally possible and powerful and beautiful.

There is a certain clarity in misfortune because you stop thinking about the future for a moment and focus on what must be done right now. Someone quipped that they couldn’t believe this flooding happened on a Sunday, and I thought I am so glad it happened on a Sunday. If it had happened on a Tuesday, we would’ve spent the entire week worrying about getting things where they needed to be by Sunday. It happened on a Sunday and we didn’t have time to worry. We could only move. Herschel said we must believe God now.

Believing God now is about movement. It’s about letting go of your expectations of how things should be going. Those just get in the way. Believing God now doesn’t abolish uncertainty, or erase fear. It doesn’t mean everything makes sense all of a sudden. And believing in God now doesn’t keep bad things from happening. Believing just means moving with love and hope and purpose even in the midst of uncertainty and fear.

It was just a small pipe and a relatively small misfortune, but the response of the people around me gave me heart and spirit and joy and courage to face larger misfortunes and uncertainties. Last Sunday, The Church of the Redeemer gave me the gift of belief again.