by The Rev. Craig Lemming, Associate Rector of St. John’s, St. Paul, MN
In the name of God: the bread of life and the cup of salvation. Amen.
What have been your mountaintop moments in life? Perhaps it was the day you graduated from high school or college. Or being picked for a sports team or being cast in a play or giving a perfect performance. Maybe your mountaintop moment was a job title you worked hard to achieve. Perhaps it was the day you met the love of your life or the day you got married. For parents, maybe the birth or adoption of a child is one of your mountaintop moments. Maybe your mountaintop moment was discerning and accepting who God called you to be. Most mountaintop moments in Western culture end up on a resumé: that list of defining achievements for which we want to be known. People introduce us by name and our job title, or who we’re related to, or what would be universally acknowledged as impressive. If I had the privilege of introducing the Prophet Elijah for instance, I might say: meet Elijah, a prophet of God revered by Jews, Christians, and Muslims. Worker of miracles, including the resurrection of a widow’s son and bringing down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel. He slayed the 450 false prophets of the idol Baal, heard the still small voice of God on mount Horeb, and ascended into heaven fully alive in a fiery chariot. Wouldn’t you love to be introduced with that resumé? I would!
Today’s sermon, however, is about those moments of struggle in between our mountaintop moments. This morning’s lesson from the First Book of Kings shows us Elijah at his lowest. Fleeing the assassin that the enraged Queen Jezebel has sent to murder him, we find Elijah exhausted in the desert. He sits under a broom tree and begs God to take his life. Exhaustion, depression, and complete breakdowns seldom, if ever, make it onto our resumés. We feel ashamed to tell the truth about those lowest nadirs in life when we are overwhelmed, exhausted, and depressed. Yet, telling the truth – the good, the bad, and the ugly – sets us all free.
The elders I admire most are those who tell their whole truth. Not just their triumphs, but also their shortcomings, struggles, and failures. I am grateful for my mother’s permission to share observations from my teenage years when she struggled with depression. When my older brother left our home to go to college, my mother soldiered on performing the repertoire of her mountaintop identity. Her impeccable roles of wife, mother, careerwoman, and beloved community member. Mum’s performance could no longer be sustained. Grief, loss, and unhealed trauma from her past came crashing into her life. My Dad and I were frustrated that we couldn’t fix it. We could be present and listen. Mum’s exhaustion and depression brought her to that deserted place where all we can do is speak the truth to God and our loved ones and admit, “I am not well.” That is when angelic messengers show up. Mum received a phone call from a Christian Counselor. At first, Mum said, “I’m fine. I don’t need help.” Thank God that Christian Counselor persisted and called my mother a second time. That is when my mother had the courage to receive the help she so desperately needed to be well again. Through years of counseling, therapy, and Bible Studies, Mum surrendered to God’s grace, rested, and was nurtured back to life. Just as Elijah fed on the bread and water provided by God’s angelic messenger, my mother feasted on and drank deeply from the Word of God in the Holy Scriptures, her Book of Common Prayer, and the healing stories of those in her counseling cohort. So began my mother’s lifelong healing journey. All healing journeys begin with confessing our hardest truths.
In today’s Epistle we hear, “Putting away falsehood, let us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.” What falsehood do you need to put away, so that speaking your truth to your neighbors will set you and them free? What truth do you need to speak to your family? What truth do you need to speak to your coworkers or friends? When my mother spoke her truth and admitted, “I am not well;” and when the prophet Elijah spoke his truth and said, “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life,” messengers showed up twice with sustenance from God. Confessing our truths out loud allows us to surrender to and to receive God’s grace. Confessing our hardest truth allows us to rest, to be nourished, and to rest some more. Confessing our hardest truths gives us permission to be surrounded, strengthened, and sustained by God’s love.
But there’s more to this sacred story. Once we have received God’s sustenance, rested, recovered, and been revived by God’s Word, we become God’s angelic messengers for others. Yes, you and I can call and visit those who are sitting in utter despair. Can you think of a person who needs a phone call, a text message, or a visit? Show up for them, in words or deeds, spoken or unspoken, not once, but twice. Show up twice, like angelic beings do, because a frightened teenager might witness this, and learn the power of a caring word, a concerned phone call, and a loving visit. Thanks to that Christian counselor’s second phone call, my mother has traveled far in her journey of recovery from depression. She trained to become a Christian Counselor in Zimbabwe and continues to strive to do what today’s Epistle teaches us to do: to speak words that build people up and give grace; to be kind, tenderhearted, and forgiving; to “live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
Whether you are experiencing a mountaintop moment or are at your lowest deserted place, you are not alone. God is with Elijah on the dizzying heights of Mount Carmel and Mount Horeb when he experienced miraculous achievements. God is also with Elijah under that solitary broom tree when he cried out in utter heartbreak and despair. It is good to turn up in our whole truth: fully aware of our achievements and our struggles. We give thanks for those angelic messengers who are turning up to care for others with sustenance from God. To do this work of love requires prayer, rest, and nourishment. How are you nurturing a well-cared-for life so that you can care for others? What or who is restoring and sustaining you?
In today’s Gospel we hear Jesus say, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” As we pray to God to give us this day our daily bread, whether we’re on a mountaintop or in a desert, we come to Christ in Word and Sacrament to believe again in God’s sustaining love. The giant void in Elijah’s broken heart under the broom tree and the giant spiritual vacuum that depression caused in my mother’s life, could only be filled by God’s sustaining love. Our pluriversal hunger for love and belonging, and our thirst for purpose and meaning, are satisfied by God’s selfless love in Christ. Jesus says, “the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” Receiving God’s Word of love made flesh in Jesus, in Scripture, Bread, and Wine recreates us. God’s inexplicable grace empowers us to confess our hardest truths; receive the Bread of Life and the Cup of Salvation; and go forth into the world strengthened by God’s Word and Sacrament to love another person back to life. These spiritual practices may not make it onto a resumé. But they could lead another person out of a desert to their own mountaintop. May it be so. Amen.
