Be Not Afraid

The Rev. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
July 30, 2006
The 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Be Not Afraid
John 6:16-21
Ephesians 3:14-21

Drive north of Toronto, Ontario about 4 hours;
the traffic is heavy on the 400,
but no worse than what we are used to.
The city recedes in your review mirror: the tall buildings,
the concrete, the cacophony that is city life.
Before long trees replace buildings: beautiful evergreens,
pines of every shape and size,
the endless green punctuated by stands of white birch.
As the miles roll on, it grows quieter and quieter.
You turn off the radio, the CD player, the cellphone.
Open the windows and breathe in the air;
It is fresh, with a piney tang that evokes Christmas.
God’s creative hand is all around you in the natural beauty.

Finally the sign appears: Algonquin Provincial Park.
Tens of thousands of acres of wilderness;
Lakes by the hundreds;
the only way to travel is by canoe,
canoe and foot as you portage over land
that connects one lake to the next.
Get into a canoe with your pack
and paddle away from the shore.
On the smaller lakes, the surface can be like a mirror,
smooth as it reflects the sky,
the only ripples coming from hungry bass breaching the surface
in search of a tasty morsel.
The larger lakes test your muscles, especially your shoulders,
as you dig into the water.
The winds can blow, making the surface rough;
you feel like you’re driving down a road under construction

I grew up in Buffalo, just across the border from Canada,
two hours from Toronto and
less than six hours from Algonquin Park.
I spent many summers in the Park,
including three wonderful years at Camp Pathfinder,
a boys camp on an island in the middle of the Park.
The sounds of nature filled the little island paradise.
Not even the enthusiastic sounds of a hundred boys
swimming, canoing, sailing, playing tennis
or softball could compete with
the birds, the animals, the water tickling the shore,
the wind blowing through the pine trees.

The signature sound in Algonquin Park is a sound like no other:
It is the cry of the loon,
that pointed-billed cousin of the duck.
The loon has a cry that is unique;
it can sound eerie, mournful, lugubrious.
It carries over the water, often from one lake to the next.
Its cry is positively spooky after dark.
When I was a camper, the loon’s call
made the perfect background for one of our favorite activities:
the big bonfire on Saturday evening.
We would all gather at the far end of the island every week for
a program the directors and counselors organized.
We always had music, singing, and stories.

It was the stories that were memorable,
especially the ghost stories, scary stories in the darkness
as the flames from the bonfire leapt high in the sky,
the person telling the story walking around the fire,
his story unfolding, every boy mesmerized.
The best were the kind that left every boy
wishing he’d brought his flashlight
to light the path back to the front of the island
where the tents were.
As we walked back the length of the island,
no one dared to walk alone.
Every one of us was certain that something, or even someone,
was lurking behind that tree up on the left,
or the large rock down the path on the right.
Even after lights-out, most of us lay in our bunks
with eyes wide open,
convinced that we were hearing footsteps,
heavy, slow footsteps, getting closer and closer and closer.
And of course, no matter how frightening,
no matter how scary the story was,
we couldn’t wait until next Saturday,
when we’d go through the whole experience all over again.

Most of us love a scary story;
most of us love mysteries,
suspense-filled movies,
thrill rides at amusement parks,
things that go bump in the night on Halloween:
things that frighten us.
But of course, we love them only when we know
it is all make-believe;
when we know that the ghostly images are computer-generated,
the clanking chains, squeaky door, and heavy steps
are all on a recording,
that even in the Hudson Valley, the Headless Horseman
is nothing more than a story from the pen of Washington Irving.

It’s when reality takes over and we are really filled with fear,
that’s different.
That we don’t like.
When we are afraid, filled with fear,
worry, anxiety – we stop thinking,
we are gripped by our concerns, our emotions.
We are frozen, unable to figure out what to do,
what to say, how to move forward.

Fear and worry come in a thousand different ways,
intruding into our lives,
never knocking, always barging right in,
unannounced, unexpected, unwelcome.
in our homes, our workplaces, our schools, even our churches.

Our Lord Jesus Christ has always understood that we worry,
that we find so many things in life that fill us with fear.
It is why one of his most frequently repeated phrases
is the one we heard him speak in our gospel lesson:
“do not be afraid.”

Certainly we can understand why
the disciples might have been frightened,
given the circumstances we heard in our lesson:
there they were miles from shore on the Sea of Galilee,
a large lake that could be calm one minute,
and rough and hostile the next.
It was dark, the wind was picking up,
the waves growing larger and larger,
water probably spilling over the gunwales into the boat.
as the tired men strained at the oars.
And then in the darkness, a figure appeared, on the water,
walking, walking on the water.
Is it any wonder that the men were “terrified”?

But then from the darkness came that voice:
the voice that filled them with peace and assurance.
“Do not be afraid.”
“Do not be afraid” of the sight you see.
“Do not be afraid” of the wind and the waves.
“Do not be afraid” of anything or anyone:
"for I am with you."
If we translate John’s Greek precisely
the statement is even stronger:
“Do not be afraid, for I am.”

That is Christ’s promise to you and to me
in any situation, in every situation,
no matter how dire: “do not be afraid, for I am”

Because Jesus is, we need never have any fear.
Because the living Jesus is with us,
and always will be with us, each of us,
we need never worry or fear or be filled with anxiety.
Because the living Jesus is with us,
we can know true peace,
the peace Paul tells us surpasses all understanding.,
the peace of Christ,
even when we find ourselves struggling,
when things in life turn bleak and foreboding.

God makes this promise to us repeatedly, right from the beginning,
When the children of Israel stood on the east bank of the Jordan
following their years in the wilderness,
Moses reminded them of God’s unconditional love,
God’s unwavering goodness.
He closed his valedictory sermon which we know as Deuteronomy
with the words,
“The eternal God is your refuge
and underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deuteronomy 33:27)
That’s the promise of God’s love in Jesus Christ.

Now, if we have nothing to fear, nothing to worry about,
we are free then to share the love, share the peace,
share the grace,
we have been given by God through Christ,
with family, friends, neighbors, and
and yes, as Jesus reminds us,
even those we think of our enemies.

God does not promise that bad things won’t happen in our lives.
God does not promise that if we are faithful,
our lives will be filled with wealth, comfort,
good health, and security.
And when bad things do happen,
it is not because God is punishing us,
or because our faith broke down.
What God promises is that he will be with us,
even in the darkest, and bleakest times.

The psalmist understood this when he wrote
those words that we know so well:
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)
Did you ever notice the change that occurs at that verse?
The writer begins Psalm 23 somewhat formally:
speaking of God in the third person:
“The Lord is my shepherd…
He makes me to lie down…
He leads me…
He restores my soul…”
But then at verse 4, the Psalmist becomes
more intimate with God,
clearly feeling God’s presence
even as things appear to be turning bleak:
“even as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
YOU are with me;
YOUR rod and staff, they comfort me
YOU prepare a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies
YOU anoint my head with oil…”

For the psalmist, God is right there,
close enough to talk to.
The psalmist’s assurance is ours, too.
That is God’s promise in Jesus Christ:
“Do not worry, be not afraid, for I am.”

I have seen that again and again in my life,
especially in my most difficult times.
Like most people who have reached middle-age,
I have gone through difficult times, trying times,
times filled with uncertainty, anxious times, even fearful times.
But it has been in the midst of my most trying times
that I have felt God’s presence most powerfully,
when I have been most confident of the promise, “I am”.

I have heard the voice the disciples heard in the darkness:
“Do not be afraid, for I am;
do not worry, have no fear,
for my love will bear you up
for underneath you are the everlasting arms.”

With that promise, I can leave worry behind.
With that promise I can leave anxiety behind.
With that promise, I can leave fear behind.

Now, I am still fully human,
so I still struggle with worries and fears
about things large and small.
I don’t know if I will live to age 75 or to age 95,
But, what I do know is that today I live in God’s love
and tomorrow when I arise,
I will arise in God’s grace and love,
and I will have that with me everywhere I go
throughout the day, in times of joy
and in the most difficult times.

What I know is that I will hear God’s voice all around me:
speaking reassurance through the cry of the loon,
the wind in the trees,
the crashing of waves,
the voices of family, friends, even strangers,
always saying, “Do not worry,
Be not afraid,
Underneath you are the everlasting arms,
For I am.”
AMEN

One, Two, Three, Go!

The Rev. Whitworth Ferguson III
Manassas Presbyterian Church
Manassas, Virginia
July 23, 2006
The 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time

One, Two, Three, Go!
Mark 6:30-44
Ephesians 2:11-22

The past few months have been a blur.
Did I really have my first meeting with the PNC last December?
Was it really in April that Pat and I where here
when we all met for the first time?
July seemed so far away then;
but now, whoosh, here we are.

Pat has completed her first week commuting into D.C.
where she works as manager of marketing research
for AARP Services.
I have been bringing books, pictures,
my robe, stoles, and other items into the office,
a few items each day as I get my workspace organized.
I am grateful for the fresh paint and for the
computer that was installed and ready to go.

We are relatively settled in our home;
yes, we did buy a house here in Manassas.
Most of the boxes have been emptied,
or at least those that still cry out for attention
are now in rooms where we can close the doors
and try our best to ignore them.

We are learning our way around:
Where to shop for groceries;
Where to find Lowe’s; Bed, Bath & Beyond;
a dry cleaner, a drug store.
With my passion for books, I learned where Barnes & Noble
and Borders were on my first visit here,
so I’ve got that base covered.
I even managed to navigate the Department of Motor Vehicles
the other day and now have my Virginia drivers’ license.
When I applied for my drivers license
I was also able to register to vote
and record my willingness to be an organ donor.
I decided not to press my luck, however,
so it may be another week or so
before you see Virginia license plates on my car.

Medical professionals rank moving,
along with starting a new job,
as among life’s most stressful experiences,
but all-in-all, it has been a smooth transition.
Trying to install Verizon’s DSL internet service
has probably been the most trying part of our move,
and that we can handle.

So here we are.
The beginning of a new chapter:
in the life of this church,
in your lives and in mine.
The starter’s voice calls out:
“One, Two, Three: Go!”
But where to begin?

For me, that’s easy.
One, Two, Three: Listen!
One, Two, Three: Learn!
My principal task over the next few months
will be to listen and learn.
Listen to you as you introduce yourselves.
Learn about you, your families, your children, your parents,
Learn about where you work, where you live,
learn how you came to Manassas,
both this community and this church.
I am eager to learn who you are
which means I will be working on learning hundreds of names.
But beyond names, I want to learn who you are
as individual disciples of Christ.
I want to listen to your faith journey:
How did you get here to this church?
What helps you grow in faith?
What gets in the way of your spiritual growth?

As I get to know you as individuals,
I will learn more about who we are as a community of faith.
I am eager to hear your hopes and dreams for this church.
As we look ahead to our 140th anniversary next year,
this is a particularly appropriate time to dream
even as we seek to discern the path that God wants us to take.
What do you think are the strengths of this church?
What do you think are the weaknesses?
How can we build on the strengths,
and how can we strengthen the weaknesses?

God has called each of us here to grow in faith.
That’s why we come to church.
We come to grow.
Frederick Buechner has written that we wear our faith, each of us,
like a well-worn overcoat.
Every one of us has a hole here, a tear there,
a shiny patch where life has rubbed the fabric thin,
seams that are frayed.
Together we can help one another mend, patch,
strengthen our overcoats as we grow individually and together.

Together we are the Body of Christ,
as Paul teaches us.
Jesus Christ is the head of the body, the head of the church.
It may be a well-worn phrase that is almost cliché,
but our every act, our every word always requires that we ask,
“what would Jesus do?”
I set this chair here in the chancel this morning
as reminder that our Lord is the head of the church
and the one who guides us in all that we do and say.

In the weeks, months, and years ahead
we will worship together, pray together,
sing together, laugh together, cry together,
work together,
eat together,
learn together,
grow together.
In the weeks, months, and years ahead,
we will all minister together in the name of Jesus Christ --
everyone, every member of this body,
for everyone is called to ministry.
No one is more important than anyone else,
and no one is less important.

Last Tuesday, a group of extraordinary singers
from the Presbyterian Chorale of Congo
sang for God and us here in this Sanctuary.
Twelve men and women from the African nation of Congo
sang their faith with such feeling that
even though the words were foreign to us,
the message in each song was clear.
Following the concert, they took time
to tell us a little about themselves
and about their country.
Congo has been a ravaged nation for decades,
struggling with violence, poverty, warfare, corruption.
A woman in the audience asked, “what can we do to help?”
The answer was not, “Send money”, or “Send experts.”
The answer was so simple: “work with us”.
Come into my garden, said one man,
and pick up the hoe and tend the soil with me.

That is what we are called to do as disciples of Christ,
and as members of Manassas Presbyterian Church –
tend the soil that God has entrusted to us.
We are called to work with one another,
work together, work cooperatively, collaboratively,
seeing one another as brothers and sisters.
No, we will not always agree on everything,
but if we begin with discipleship,
differences and disagreements will melt away.
If we do that, our church will grow.
More important, if we do that,
each of us will grow in spirit and faith.

The gospel lesson reinforces our calling to be community.
It is easy to read the story of the feeding of the 5,000
as one of Jesus’ great miracles:
where there was barely food for 12,
Jesus provided food for 5,000.
But what if the miracle took a more indirect route?
The route Jesus suggests when he tells his baffled disciples,
“You give them something to eat.” (Mark 6:37)
Do you hear what Jesus was saying to them:
“if you had been paying attention, you would know what to do.”
But of course, the disciples were no different from you and me,
men of profoundly imperfect faith.
They often didn’t pay careful attention to what Jesus
taught them, and so they did not know what to do.

Jesus instructed his disciples to have the men, women and children
sit in groups: fifties and hundreds.
Do you see what Jesus was doing?
He was building communities.
And then the miracle occurred: there was food for everyone.
Not, I suggest, because Jesus began to pull loaves out of thin air,
but because a woman over in that community
realized that she had two pieces of bread,
one of which she was happy to share,
and a man over in that group who had bought 3 pieces of dried,
salted fish earlier that morning knew he had more than he needed.
And so, food appeared, men, women and children
feeding one another,
a community here, a community there,
everyone with enough to eat.
Jew and Gentile,
men and women,
young and old,
merchant and farmer,
rich and poor.
Feeding one another, caring for one another.
No one was overlooked, no one was left hungry.
All were content, all were filled with food and
filled with something even more important:
the love of God that comes through Jesus Christ.
the peace of God that comes through Jesus Christ.
That’s a miracle: five thousand people
caring about one another,
no one acting selfishly,
self-righteously,
greedily.

Don’t you see: that is what we are called to do
as a community of faith
and as disciples of Jesus Christ.

God’s instructions for us are so simple:
The list never went beyond 10,
and even when we had trouble with that
Jesus tried to make easier for us
and just told us to love God and love one another.

A few years back, a little girl asked me
what my favorite story in the Bible was.
She was eager to tell me hers:
she loved the story of Noah with all the animals,
especially the fuzzy ones.
I am not sure I have a favorite story –
every story has something to teach us -
but I do have a favorite passage.
It comes from the gospel according to John,
in those final chapters when Jesus was gathered with his disciples
for their final meal together.
John recorded Jesus’ teaching at length;
it is a very different recounting from what we find in
the other three gospels.
Jesus knew that we humans always make things
more complicated than they need to be,
so Jesus said simply to his disciples
and to each of us,
“I give you a new commandment,
that you love one another.
Just as I have loved you,
you also should love one another.
By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples:
if you have love for one another.” (John 13: 34-35)

Those are our operating instructions
as we begin the next chapter in the life of this church:
it is by our love for one another
that we will be known as Christ’s disciples.
Love for one another.
Love for all humanity, all children of God.

So, One, Two, Three: Go!
As we begin a new chapter in the life of
Manassas Presbyterian Church,
a new chapter in your lives,
a new chapter in my life.
A chapter entitled, “love”.
Amen