God is God

This morning we are suppose to continue with the wonderful stories of Elijah. The text read paints a vivid picture of the abuse of authority and justice by Ahab and Jezebel. It demonstrates how much power a King wheels, especially if the King is supported by a Queen who believes the appetites of her man are more important than the life of a subject.

This text sets the stage for a powerful sermon on the tenth commandment, “Thou shall not covet.” The truth found in this text is that our greed and our needs often prompt acts of physical and mental violation toward others.  In this story coveting leads to perjury, perjury leads to murder and the murder leads to the beginning of the end of King Ahab.

All the stuff is there for a great sermon and I had a grand time writing it.  But you will not see it today. Maybe sometime in the future I will pull it out, and give it a whirl. But this morning an event inspired me to go elsewhere. So if you came expecting Elijah, he will return next week.   

Tuesday evening my wife and I traveled to Charlottesville for a night out on our 39^th wedding anniversary. Deb joined with 3,000 other women as they celebrated the music of the Indigo Girls. Amy and Emily have never sounded better as they weaved new songs into their repertoire of old favorites. By the end of the show more folks were dancing than sitting as all 3,001 of us waited the final anthem. We were not disappointed. Emily sang, “I’m trying to tell you something about myself”, and everyone jumped to their feet. By the end of the song we were all singing,

“I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains,

 I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain.

There is more than one answer to these questions

pointing me in a crooked line.

The less I seek my source for some define,

the closer I am to fine.”

By the end of the song every one, with one notable exception, was moving, grooving and screaming at the top of their feminine lungs, “Closer to fine; Closer to fine” We were primed for more. The stage had been perfectly set for the headline performance. If the job of the warm-up band is to get the crowd in the mood the Indigo Girls had accomplished their task. Now we waited anxiously as Joan Baez took the stage. Accompanied by only a drummer and guitarist, she began to sing one of her timeless ballads about love and death. The song was a big hit in 1627 but not with this crowd. The hard work of the Indigo Girls had gone for naught. People quickly lost interest waiting to discover which true love was going to kill the other. Conversations began to spring up all around me. Even the fine amplification system was in danger of being over-whelmed by the semi-attentive crowd. Sensing she might be losing the moment, Baez followed with Dylan’s “It’s Alright Baby Blue”, a song that got the attention of those of us who were over 60. But she was still dead in the water as far as the under 50 bunch was concerned. She switched gears once again and sang a Woody Guthrie classic about immigration called “Deportee”.

The interesting thing about folk music is most folks singers just can’t sing. Woody Guthrie was no exception. He would write these great songs with memorable lines. He would repeat the lines until he had every one singing along.  Once the crowd became part of the music, no one cared how Woody sounded. Don’t get me wrong, Joan Baez can still sing. She might now be more of an alto that a soaring soprano but her tone is still amazing. But no one was listening. So she resorted to the methods of Woody Guthrie. She sang, “Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye to Rosiletta, You won’t have a name when they call you, deportee.” Then she said, “Come on and join me.” She sang it again. By the third time through conversations stopped dead and folks who only knew Woody Guthrie as Arlo’s dad were wailing.  Baez followed this with a spirited version of Steve Earle’s “Jerusalem” and the conversion was complete. All 3,000 woman and one guy shifted their complete attention to this remarkable 72 year old woman.

Trusting once again in the the lyrics of Steve Earle, she then quietly but powerfully blessed us with these words.

I believe in prophecy.

Some folks see things not everybody can see.

Once in a while they pass the secret along to you and me.

I believe in miracles.

Something sacred burning in every bush and tree.

We can all learn to sing the songs the angels sing.

Yeah, I believe in God, and God ain’t me.

I’ve traveled around the world,

Stood on mighty mountains and gazed across the wilderness.

Never seen a line in the sand or a diamond in the dust.

And as our fate unfurls.

Every day that passes I’m sure about a little less.

Even my money keeps telling me it’s God I need to trust.

And I believe in God, but God ain’t us.

God, in my little understanding, don’t care what name I call.

Whether or not I believe, don’t matter at all.

I receive the blessings,

That every day on Earth’s another chance to get it right.

Let this little light of mine shine and rage against the night.

Just another lesson.

Maybe someone’s watching and wondering what I got.

Maybe this is why I’m on earth, or maybe not.

But I believe in God, and God is God.

       

Imagine the response. Here we were in Charlottesville, one of the very birthplaces of progressive thinking in America. Here is this old liberal, bleeding heart, tree hugging, protest singer standing naked behind a guitar, boldly using the “G” word.  This wasn’t an ancient ballad, it wasn’t a sing along, it wasn’t even Woody Guthrie. It was just one defiant woman, giving notice that Ahab or Jezebel or anyone else who uses corruption and self-justification to appease their appetites need to look in the mirror and discover, “they ain’t God.”

       

As I sat and listened, I was reminded of a similar moment more than a decade ago. My church in West Texas invited Will Campbell to expound on some of his indispensible wisdom concerning the state of the world. Many folks have suggested Will was Elijah reincarnated. I would be hard pressed to disagree. Will spent one sermon talking about the Lord’s Prayer. He took us places I never imagined.  But what I remember most was his conclusion.

        He said, “When we say ‘Amen’ at the end of the prayer that means we have said it all and there is nothing more to be said. So when you say Amen, say it loud; say it like you mean it; say it so God knows you believe it.”

        The he bowed his head and spoke these words. “God is God is God is God is God is.  AMEN!”

Perhaps there is a lesson in this for all of us. Truth is, the more I remember that God is God, the closer I get to fine.

                                                        Amen.