Unsearchable Greatness

“Unsearchable Greatness”

2 Kings 4:42-44, John 6:1-21, Psalm 145:1-9, Ephesians 3:14-21

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year B, July 28, 2024

First Presbyterian Church, Sandpoint, Idaho

Andy Kennaly, Pastor

God loves you so much, just the way you are…

but loves you too much to leave you that way.

Life is a series of ebbs and flows, with times of order and disorder that lead to a reordering that is influenced by what came before and opens new possibilities for the future.

I have a fishing story. When I was an Associate Pastor living in Clarkston, Washington, my fishing buddy, John and I went on a canoe trip. In the mountains of central Idaho, the Lochsa and the Selway converge as tributaries to the Middle Fork of the Clearwater River. This means there’s a lot of water cranking down these canyons so the rapids can get tricky. Sure enough, as we paddled down the Lochsa, more than once we ended up tipping over and found ourselves swimming. We anticipated this might happen, so we tied all our gear into the boat. But like all camping trips, this was a character-building adventure.

We didn’t have much luck fishing either. But it was nice to set up camp along some smooth section of river. On our second or third night, there was a beach that was away from Highway 12, which parallels the river, so we camped on a sandy shore in a more isolated, quiet spot. We set up camp, tried fishing in the holes and eddies of that bend in the river, but nothing came out from the pools.

We made supper from some food that we brought with us, then later as we sat to look out at the stream, we saw some movement heading our way. A family of five river otters came down, swimming with the current, and they dove underwater in those pools and eddies (the ones that we had fished in earlier), but they caught trout and then ate them right in front of us. Then off they went downstream, into the sunset of evening. It’s amazing who and what travels over water, and in this case, how fish were provided for those who really needed them to eat.

In John chapter 6, Jesus goes to the other side of the Sea of Galilee and there a great crowd followed him, and he feeds the 5,000 from five barley loaves and two fish. This is a miracle story, so it doesn’t make sense rationally, you can’t measure or count the servings.

Rather than get caught in the details, let’s just focus on two of them. One happens right away, “Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias.” This is a politically charged statement intended to contrast Jesus and God’s economy with the Roman Empire and authoritarianism’s economy of imposed poverty. We notice the contrast because Jesus goes to the other side, which shows movement, something dynamic, not static, developing. And the second detail, when the disciples question how five loaves and two fish could possibly help, Jesus says, “Make the people sit down.” So, they sat. John says, “there was a great deal of grass in that place.” In that place.

So, on one hand you have dynamic flow, movement, with an increasing sense of political and economic urgency that builds in the plot, yet on the other hand you have a great deal of grass and the people sat in that place, a specific location, down to Earth, grounded. In both, the presence of the Living Christ is experienced.

The people call Jesus a prophet and they want to make him king because they like his version of authoritarianism. As our reading about Elisha shows us, this is not the first time God has shared much from little through the work of faith. The word of the Lord has its own economy, and Jesus doesn’t want caught up in old paradigms, patterns of Empire, so he withdraws to the wilderness.

Again, this cannot be captured by thinking about it or measuring or counting. Like the Psalmist declares, the Lord’s “greatness is unsearchable.” But there is a lineage, a passing along of story, a sharing of mighty actions. And right in the middle of the Psalmist’s praise and declaration about who God is and how good it is to sing the Lord’s righteousness, we get a hint at how to proceed.

On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate. (Psalm 145:5)

 I will meditate. This is more than thought, this is faith, a trust, a leaning into, a falling toward. To meditate involves invitation, an open stance, a concentration on what’s important and a letting go of the unessential.

This is heart language, soul-speak. Ephesians echoes this as the Apostle Paul, the mystic, calls us into deeper union, a spiritual union with God who lives in our heart. We see this as he prays that we be strengthened in our “inner being with power through the Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”

Remember, Jesus has the people sit on the grass. Now Paul says Christ dwells in our heart, and we’re rooted and grounded in love. Let’s not miss how counter-cultural these two are in these scenes. This is counter-cultural in a world that pushes the mind, our thoughts, our head, and dismisses the material, the Earthy, the body, touch. Plato the philosopher, who set the foundations for Western culture, espouses sight as a high virtue. Yet here, Paul calls for a grounded faith, rooted; just the opposite of an ethereal, esoteric spirituality that tries to separate us from the grass on the ground and the fish that swim in waters that run deep and swift, and the barley that grows from soil as fields are worked and tended. This is Earthy, spirit-infused matter. This is incarnation as Christ is revealed.

To “have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breath and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God” is something that Paul prays for those living in Ephesus. I’ve been to Ephesus. It’s in western Turkey and it was an amazing city of vibrant color, a prominent library, and spring waters. But Paul is calling for more than book reading or living a comfortable life.

How can you comprehend that which is beyond comprehension? How can you know that which surpasses knowledge? If it surpasses knowledge, you can’t know it in the way we usually think of knowledge. And how often do we recognize that we are filled with all the fullness of God? Usually we’re taught the opposite, that we are not worthy of God, and we need to do something, work the checklist to qualify for Godly standards and acceptance. But this is not the case. The fullness of God is in our heart and it’s on us to meet God there. Meditation, groundedness, rooted in love; these are helpful in putting us in the flow, of finding that balance between action and contemplation, to hold the tension of dynamic movement and a still, quiet center.

One tool that I’ve learned more about recently is the Labyrinth. The meandering path that journeys in and out to and from the center on one path, in union whether near or far, as one step is taken after another. We gather for worship outside on the last Sunday of July, in the Community Peace Garden. What makes for peace is the prayerful intention of those who designate this space, this place, this grass as a spot where spiritual sanctuary is found. But if that intention is lifted, if this space is ignored or forgotten, the energy dissipates.

That’s another aspect of these stories; God meets us halfway. The crowds follow after Jesus, they seek him out, even on the other side of the lake. The disciples are on a journey through the storm, they invite Jesus into the boat, and they reach the shore. Eternity and time mix.

But that’s enough for today. I’ve already told you my fish story. But I will add that on that river trip, I was worried. It was anxiety producing to be in a river that has so much power, and our paddling skills were overwhelmed. We knew it was time to portage, to walk the boat around the big waves. So we did, and we made it through.

Meditation is not a one stop shop. Though we may have moments of brilliant insight or revelation of heart, much of the practice involves just that, practice that is patient, persistent, and intentional. We come alongside Paul, who bows on his knees before God, the One who is connected with everyone in heaven and on Earth. If Paul was on his knees, and if Jesus prays to the Father, who are we to think we don’t need to? For action to be grounded, prayer is the foundation.

Thanks be to God for fullness, for heart-felt presence. Thanks be to God for examples like Jesus and Paul who show us the need to pray without ceasing as we learn to open our spirit to God’s leading so our contemplation and action are united in a grounded, rooted, all-encompassing love that knows no end. And as we love, may God be glorified, now, even as forever. Amen.