Psalm 40

There is a story I especially like about a seven-year-old girl sitting at the kitchen table with a blank piece of paper and a crayon. She begins to draw a picture, and her mother asks her what the picture would be about. "I'm drawing a picture of God," she answers.

"You can't do that. Nobody knows what God looks like because no one has ever seen God." And the little girl responds, "They will when I'm finished."

Oh, that it could be that simple, that we could see a likeness of God, that we could see all of God's fullness and glory and wonder. If we could only use words to put into our minds a clear idea and definition of God. If we could only explain God, all wrapped in a neat package. But we can never fully describe God. We can never adequately picture God. Any pictures we could use, any words we could devise, would quickly be seen to be short of the mark. God exceeds, transcends, anything and everything a mind can conceive. God cannot be defined or described or explained.

For as long as human beings have lived on this planet, humankind has made the attempt to describe and explain God, to lock God up in a box. It cannot be done. By the very nature of God, this is so far beyond human capabilities that we cannot even approach it. We would never be allowed to handle, control, manage God. God does what God wants to do in God's own time. God has incredible, unbelievable independence.

We are talking about mystery: the mystery of life, the mystery of God. Because of the nature of God, we live in the midst of mystery. Huston Smith, in his most recent book The Soul of Christianity, says, "We are born in mystery, we live in mystery, and we die in mystery." He goes on to say that we sometimes see mystery as a negative, because we don't like what we don't understand. But, he says,

It is not a dead mystery that bogs down in befuddlement. Religious mystery invites; it glows, lures, and excites, impelling us to enter its dazzling darkness ever more deeply.

I love the words "dazzling darkness."

In my own journey, mystery was very much distant from my thought for a long time. Yet the older I get, and the more I experience God's magnificent, unbelievable presence, the more I see how God acts in our lives always in unexpected ways and in unexpected times, the more I love the mystery of God.

If God is so hard to understand, if God is such a mystery, how do we learn about God? There are several ways. One way is through Scripture, which encapsulates the wisdom of the ages.

We are all familiar with the story of Moses and the burning bush, from which God called out, "Moses! Moses!" Moses ran and hid, he was so afraid. Then God said, "Do not come near; put off your shoes from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground. I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham… I have seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt, and have heard their cry."

Then God promised to deliver the Israelites, but Moses was troubled. "If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,' and they ask me, ‘What is his name?' what shall I say to them?"

This was God's response to Moses: "I am who I am."

God refused to be defined, yet we know that Moses and the people of Israel were brought safely out of Egypt, just as God promised. This passage confronts us with the challenge of both not being able to understand or define God, and yet being assured that if we turn over our lives to God and trust utterly, we will be delivered.
Through the years, in my own journey, I have learned to listen to the insight and wisdom of Paul's advice in Romans 8:28, "All things work together for good to those who love God and live according to God's purpose." When I repeat this to myself I often substitute the word trust for the word love. Loving God is usually easier for me when I am in trouble than trusting God, and I need to remind myself that God, however unknowable and mysterious, can be trusted whole-heartedly. All things work together for good, everything works together for good, to those who trust their lives to this wondrous God.

We might ask how Jesus, who was so close to God, and relating to God's mystery, dealt with it. Why did He spend so much time alone and in prayer? Why did He so often separate Himself from the disciples, from the crowds of people? I believe He did so to be alone, to contemplate, to think, to delve into the depth of that dazzling mystery, to find out what God might be wanting from Him, what God was saying to Him, what He was supposed to do in trusting God with everything in His life.

There is a most thoughtful saying on the fence around the Garden at Gethsemane in Israel. As you may know, a part of that ancient garden still exists. Jesus, knowing He would be crucified, went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray, and it was there that He was arrested. A saying on the garden wall is attributed to Jesus, not as a direct quote, but as a representation of Jesus' mind and spirit. This is what it says: "Father, I may not understand You, but I trust You." This saying has been helpful to me in my spiritual journey.

Another way we can learn about trusting God is by listening to other people talk about their experiences and through the ways that God speaks to them at various times in their lives. Wherever we are, whatever we are doing, whatever the circumstance—whether wonderful, joyful and free, or difficult, scary and tragic —God is there. God is in the midst of us.

Often the question arises, is God present even when something evil and treacherous is happening? That doesn't make sense. Yet I know that God is there. I hope that in your own experiences of darkness and trouble and tragedy, you knew that God was there, even during those times when you were not able to feel the presence of God.

Let me suggest an analogy. Suppose you live in the woods of northern Maine, which in the deepness of winter gets very, very cold. Let us say it is mid-January. The temperature outside is thirty-five degrees below zero. The wind is howling, and it feels more like sixty below zero. You put on your parka and boots, scarf and earmuffs, and you go outside. There is a big tree in your back yard. Illuminated by the moon, it is a beautiful sight, but it seems impossible that the tree is alive. It has no leaves, no other sign of life. If you hit your hand on the bark, it feels rigid and cold—seemingly dead.

Yet a scientist would say the tree is not dead, but very much alive, that in the very heart of that tree are millions of little molecules busily at work. They are preparing the tree for the first warm day of spring, when it can begin to stretch. There will be a resurrection. The little tender green leaves will begin to show, and soon the tree will be covered with that wonderful spring green. A couple of months later, in the midst of the summertime, the tree will be a lush, full green. God has been at work in the tree. This is the way God is working in your life and in mine all the time.

The scientist can tell you what has happened, but the scientist cannot explain the why of the process of life. That is one of God's mysteries. The more we study the natural world, the more we are surrounded by God's mysteries.

There are times in our lives when we intensely sense that we ourselves are surrounded by God's mystery. Something happens to us that we know comes from another place. Over the years when I have asked people if they have had such a mystical experience, nine out of ten will say yes. Each one is different and arrives in its own way. Usually you didn't know enough to ask for it. It just happens. And you know that it is God. You just know.

I have been blessed with some mystical moments where I felt God at work. One happened when I was I was nineteen or twenty. I was very much in love with somebody and felt this would be the love of my life. But the relationship was ending. You remember, I am sure, your first broken love, and how tragic it is, how it seems that the bottom has fallen out of your life, and how hopeless and dark everything seems. You don't even want to keep going. That was the state I was in. I couldn't study, and I had no enthusiasm for anything.

One day I lay down for a nap after lunch. I was in that twilight zone, half awake and half asleep. I saw myself walking down a path holding somebody's hand. All I saw was the hand up to the elbow, yet instantly I knew what it was. I was holding God's hand. God was saying to me, "Arthur, no matter what, for all the days of your life, I will be with you. I will never leave you." This was such a strong experience, in that mystical moment, that even though since then I have had many skeptical moments, even though I have broken faith, throughout all the ups and downs, the valleys and mountains, that image, the sense of that presence has remained. I know that God is holding my hand.

We don't know when it's going to happen or how. This is God working, like the molecules working inside that tree. God is working inside of us.

Do mystical moments happen always at times of crisis? It has been that way for me. A number of years ago, just after Dr. Norman Vincent Peale, my predecessor, retired and I was about to become senior minister at Marble Church, I was filled with apprehension. How was this young man going to follow that great older man who was genius in all that he did?

Two weeks after Dr. Peale announced his retirement, I was told by my doctor that I had to have a by-pass operation, and that I would be out for eight weeks. My first reaction was, "No, God, don't do that to me!" Nevertheless, I had to have the surgery. Six weeks after Dr. Peale retired, I checked in to the hospital. I'd had surgery before, and the most difficult part of the experience had been the recovery room. You are wired to machines that bleep and blink. You become an extension of the machine—tubes up your nose, tubes down your throat. You look at the clock. You don't know whether it's 2:00 a.m. or 2:00 p.m. There are no windows. Nurses are running around, but no one comes near to comfort you. The whole experience is very machine-like.

That recovery room experience had been horrible for me. I dreaded going through it again. Going into surgery, I felt gray and numb, and completely unable to pray. And yet, something happened. When I came out of surgery I was put in the recovery room, but I was amnesiac to the whole experience except for one five-minute period.

I remember an Episcopal priest, dressed in street clothes and ready to go home, standing at the foot of my bed with the Bible in his hand. He had had the same surgery days before. "Arthur," he asked, "would you like me to read from the 40th Psalm?" "Yes," I answered, and he began reading.

I waited patiently for the Lord;
he inclined to me and heard my cry.
He drew me up from the desolate pit,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.

That is all I remember during the two or three days after the operation. People have told me they visited me, and we spoke, but I don't remember any of it. All I remember is that five-minute period when the clouds parted, the sun came through, and God was saying to me, "Arthur, you are going to be all right."

Later, I learned that Dr. Florence Pert, a colleague on the church staff, had organized a prayer vigil. For every minute of the first 72 hours from the start of my surgery, somebody was praying for me. It was the molecules busily at work, God doing what needed to be done in my life.

When you have experiences like this, it helps you with the challenging task of trusting God. It is a challenging task, but we have good reason to trust God. It is a mystery, but it's a dazzling mystery, because God takes good care of us.

God, like the molecules in the tree, is always at work on your behalf. You do not see or feel the presence of God, but it is there, touching your life and making a difference. Trust God, and God will be faithful in rewarding you with wonderful blessings. Let us pray.

For the blessing of life, for our time together in this very special space, for the wonderful mystery of who You are, God, and the way You love us and relate to us and change us, we say thank You. Bless us all. Keep us all in Your loving care. In Christ's name we ask. Amen.