March 12, 2017 - Second Sunday in Lent: Part 2 Pastor Michelle's Sermon - You do not know where it comes from or where it goes

The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."

Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?"

Pastor Michelle's drew her for inspiration for today's sermon from a pastor friend's recent Facebook post that she shared with us, “The time is surely coming when we must all become mystics, or we will all become atheists...”

She then commented "I think what my friend is getting at here is the fact that everywhere we look it seems there are persons and forces working against God’s loving, life-giving purpose for the world. In the face of so many overwhelming problems, you and I aren’t going to be able to hold onto our faith for long, unless we cultivate a deep, abiding spiritual connection with God….

I confess I am truly Nicodemus in the dark when it comes to knowledge of God. More often I search for and attempt to see signs that appear to me to proceed from God rather than the world. When I pondered the Facebook post today my mind jumped to a different phase - "The time may be coming when we become mystics and atheists...”

Why do those words engage me more than what appears to be a black and white choice? For the past two seasons of Lent I have committed to hearing lectures, reading challenging philosophical writing, contemplating religious pieces, and engaging with postings in a Facebook group led by Peter Rollins called Atheism for Lent. For years before that I read about, and was intrigued by, many mystic experiences of God.

First, let me say the my concept of atheism now is not antithetical by definition to being either a Christian or a mystic. I do not think of atheists as necessarily "contributing to forces working against God’s loving, life-giving purpose". Nor do I subscribe to the assumption that belief in the supernatural is a prerequisite to being a Christian. A Christian atheist is a neither a paradox nor an untenable position, even though I can't claim to be one.

Atheism for Lent is hard and, at times, spiritually raveling. Particularly in Lent, to fully embrace crucifixion, the death of meaning and the Jesus; plea "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"  - I find this, rather than giving up food or another exercise of will, has become a profound Lenten discipline.

What initially drew me to this group and this exploration? One inspiration came several years ago, when it was published, when I read what Mother Teresa once wrote about herself:

"I call, I cling, I want ... and there is no One to answer ... no One on Whom I can cling ... no, No One. Alone ... Where is my Faith ... even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness ... My God ... how painful is this unknown pain ... I have no Faith ... I dare not utter the words and thoughts that crowd in my heart ... and make me suffer untold agony.

So many unanswered questions live within me and I am afraid to uncover them ... because of the blasphemy ... If there be God ... please forgive me ... When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul. I am told God loves me ... and yet the reality of darkness, coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul."

I recognize this unsatisfied longing and love for God that, at times, exists in me. For some, these words were scandalous and some judged these words as an admission that Mother Teresa was secretly an agnostic, if not an atheist. I thought her honesty about this lack of certainty and "faith" made her decisions more holy, given her life and sacrifice. They echo in my soul and I respond to them like I do Jesus' plea on the cross.

My wife has asks if I accept atheism only for Lent. A fair question and my answer is always no I do not become an atheist. This no also fills me with a bit of fear and regret that I rarely express, since no is closer to the truth but that answer is, in the end, not completely truthful either.

My fear is captured in Mother Teresa's quote. I am scared of the unanswered questions and the possibility of blasphemy. To admit I still struggle with the emptiness and agony she describes is difficult to accept. My regret comes from a lack of courage or understanding to do much more than temporarily take on that emptiness and agony for a brief moment only to retreat in the next from being bold in dealing with that dark, cold and empty reality. However, what I experience seems to be rooted much more in spiritual timing and grace, more than will.

These questions about how I understand God have moved me from potential worship of false Gods and idols in my life. The questions have served as a reminder that God is beyond description and still I must describe God working within me. They have finally been questions about the true nature of existence and have helped me map the contours of the my faith regarding how best to live in this world.

“I am what I am,” is the answer the burning bush on Mount Sinai gives when Moses asks it what it is.
Ernst Bloch, however, maintains that this is a mistranslation of the original Hebrew Ejher Asche Ejher which actually means “I will become what I will become.” In Bloch's reading, the unfolding of the holy spirit is something which is yet to come, the expression of an unfinished process.  This is why certainty and faith may not provide an immutable understanding of God in my life.

The questions contained here give the reasons why I know I remain Nicodemus in the dark when it comes to my knowledge of God.