Shall We Turn Our Backs on God and
the Future?
Craig Anderson
Mark
1:16-28 September 8, 2002
In sailing circles, if someone tells
you they’ve never run aground, you can be certain they’ve never left the
dock. Sailing is filled with surprises,
and just about when you think you’ve experienced them all, another sneaks up to
grab you. I ran aground my second day
out... but my most memorable experience is a brief moment I spent in mid-air on
Lake Seneca in New York.
What had begun as a pleasant early
morning sail, turned into a white-knuckle adventure as a squall swept down that
narrow lake lined with cliffs along its eastern shore. That shore while treacherous, was closest,
so I headed in. A dock jutting out 15
or 20 feet from a break in the cliffs appeared and I made for it with the
growing apprehension that a gust could cause a capsize at any moment. Approaching the dock and the cliff at an
angle, I turned up into the wind, planning to glide the last feet to
safety. But the wind was so strong that
not only did the boat stop many feet short, but it also started to be blown
down onto the rocks. Exciting? Yes. But what is most memorable about the
morning had yet to happen.
Realizing I had to act, I grabbed a
line, scrambled onto the deck and jumped, thinking I could tow the boat the
last several feet to the dock. In
mid-air I suddenly wondered, “How deep is this water?” In a few more seconds gasping for breath, I
discovered it was about two inches shallower than I am tall. But by hopping along
the bottom, I could grab some air and still haul the boat to safety; just as if
I had never left the dock.
Now you might resolve, as others
have, never to go sailing with Anderson.
There is some justification in that!
But this morning I want to suggest that sailing with Anderson is not so
unlike taking another leap, the leap of faith.
Or that sailing with Anderson is not unlike the disciples dropping all
to follow Jesus, or can even be compared to what we all have faced since last
September 11.
Have you ever wondered how or why
the disciples did it? What had begun as
a pleasant day in their boats, mending nets and patching fiberglass, ended with
them jumping out of those boats to follow Jesus. Since the Gospel story doesn’t provide many details, we’re left
to imagine them. Perhaps these
fishermen had previously encountered this Jesus from over in Nazareth at one of
the synagogues. Maybe they had been
there when he got a crowd to act out his parables about the lost sheep, lost
coin and lost boy. Or they might have
marveled at how he talked to the crazed village idiot everyone else was afraid
of. Maybe they wondered if they would
be welcome at Jesus’ table. They had seen
that the lowly and the despised were included.
There was even food enough for all, despite the poverty. As they sat in their boats and saw Jesus
coming, they remembered these things and were intrigued, wanted to know more,
and wondered where this might lead.
Against the better judgment of their partners and friends, wives and lovers,
mothers and fathers, with a quick look back, they leapt at the chance.
During this past year, had Jesus
happened along the Jersey shore, we might have been more reluctant to follow
than those early disciples. Who among
us wouldn’t have peppered Jesus with doubtful questions? After this year’s events, one could
reasonably ask whether faith and religion are truly worth it. Where is the
justice? Will peace ever come? Is there a God? What shall we make of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam: these three
great faiths sprung from common roots and soil, tearing at one another’s
throats: each with its competing truths
and counter-claims to ultimacy? Then
besides experiencing these apparent failures of religion, what is perhaps our
greater, deeper-felt faith has also been tested, our faith in free markets and
charismatic CEO’s, and wunderkind CFO’s.
“Will capitalists destroy capitalism?” newspaper headlines ask. We have been left with holes in our consumer confidence and
investments as deep as the fracture at Ground Zero. Quite a year this has been, and we are more skeptical and
uncertain at the opening of this new fishing season than we have been in a long
time.
So what has this got to do with my
hanging in mid-air wondering how deep the water is? Suppose that question had occurred to me sooner. I turn the boat into the wind, it stops well
short of the dock and is blown down toward the rocks. I pause to consider the depth of the water; wonder whether I will
be able to swim strongly enough to tow a boat against a 30 mile an hour wind;
ask myself about paddling... and yes, you’ve jumped ahead of me to picking up
shards of fiberglass off the rocks. Had
I thought ahead sooner, I could have decided to jump risking failure, or I
could have been frozen by doubt and indecision, and with certainty have ruined
the boat and what had started out to be a pleasant day.
You have the same choice with
respect to following Jesus, having faith in God, or trusting that life means
something after 9/11. Suppose that you
put off having faith because you cannot be certain that God is. There is a chance that you are in over your
head, with no possibility of reaching that distant shore called faith or trust. The evidence is mixed. The evidence is
insufficient. Lately it has seemed
lacking almost altogether. Moreover,
being uncertain about God, certain other questions begin to niggle, especially
in mid-air when terror strikes. Perhaps
nothing matters. Your life may make no
difference at all: a brief blip on the
radar screen of the universe, fading fast from view, obliterated by storms and
squalls. If that is so, then why
bother? Of what consequence is it how
you live your life, or treat your child or partner? Why not simply live for yourself, and let the rest of the world
take the hind-most? You won’t be alone
in deciding not to decide, in wavering and holding back, and finally in living
brutishly, selfishly. You will have
lots of company, and not only CEO’s and CFO’s either. Why risk being wrong about ultimate matters? Why not simply live for the day, the hour,
the momentary thrill? What will it
matter? Maybe nothing at all,
ultimately speaking.
The fishermen, when they saw Jesus
coming down the shore, might have held back with skepticism and doubt. It was not an altogether good sign that he
seemed to get along with the village idiot.
His table manners needed some cleaning up, not to mention the people he
hung out with at table. And this
sharing of what little food people had so that no one would go hungry, was that
any way to run a business? What good
could come out of Nazareth? Perhaps it
would be better to keep one’s head down, tending to the nets and fiberglass. Wouldn’t that have been the more prudent
course to steer, leaving wide berth for Jesus to float out of sight? One couldn’t be sure how a journey with the
likes of him might turn out.
But these are momentous decisions
aren’t they? If you fail to act because
you are not sure how deep the water is, either your boat or your life could
easily end up on the rocks. If you take
the leap, true you might fail, but at least you have some chance of success and
security. What will it be? We have choices in this post 9/11
world. We can nurse our doubts about
life’s meaning; take a pass on loving God and our neighbor. Who knows, that way of life might have
originated in an idiot’s tale. You
could share what you have, but isn’t there a possibility that the fruits of
your generosity will be wasted? Forgive
and forgive again? Well alright, but
suppose the ones you forgive prove unworthy of trust and betray you yet another
time? Wouldn’t it be easier to nurse a
grudge and look for a way to even the score?
Then again you might grab a line and
take a leap, and forget your doubts while you struggle to bring some semblance
of nobility and purpose, some sliver of grace and gratitude into your
life. True, you might end up in deep
water, or you might just be able to hop along looking for a foot hold, grabbing
a breath or two until you get to solid ground.
Does this way of exploring the
choices we have in our lives make sense?
Is the argument compelling? I
hope so, and I expect that it does, because what I’ve given you here is a
capsulated account of a famous essay by William James, delivered in 1896 at
Yale, titled “The Will to Believe.” Not
only does the essay provide the argument, but it also
frames the
question in the starkest terms. What
this comes down to is whether we turn our backs and stand frozen on the deck,
and pile onto the rocks. Whether we
duck our heads and let Jesus walk by on shore.
Whether we turn our backs on God and the future and let dog eat dog, Jew
exterminate Muslim, Muslim despise Christian, and let neighbor starve on the
street. What shall it be? William James offers this conclusion from
the mid-19th century author, Fitz James Stephen:
What do you think of yourself? What do you think of the world?
These are questions with which all must deal... they are riddles of the
Sphinx... In all important transactions
of life we have to take a leap in the dark.... If we decide to leave the
riddles unanswered, that is a choice; if we waver in our answer, that, too, is
a choice: but whatever choice we make, we make it at our peril. If a man chooses to turn his back altogether
on God and the future, no one can prevent him; no one can show beyond
reasonable doubt that he is mistaken.
If a man thinks otherwise and acts as he thinks, I do not see that any
one can prove that he is mistaken. Each must act as he thinks best; and if he
is wrong, so much the worse for him. We stand on a mountain pass in the midst
of whirling snow and blinding mist through which we get glimpses now and then
of paths which may be deceptive. If we stand still we shall be frozen to death.
If we take the wrong road we shall be dashed to pieces. We do not certainly
know whether there is any right one. What must we do? “Be strong and of a good courage.” Act for the best, hope for the best, and take what comes.... If death ends all, we cannot meet death
better." (Liberty, Equality,
Fraternity, p. 353)
Don’t stand
still. Take a leap. Will to believe. Endeavor to trust. Face
God and the future. Hope and act for
the best, and take what comes.
Would you like to raise a question or make a comment (even a provocative one)? If so, e-mail Craig Anderson at craig@brooksidechurch.org