Frankenstorm

Frankenstorm

“Tell those rich in this world's wealth to quit being so full of themselves and so obsessed with money, which is here today and gone tomorrow. Tell them to go after God, who piles on all the riches we could ever manage — to do good, to be rich in helping others, to be extravagantly generous. If they do that, they'll build a treasury that will last, gaining life that is truly life.” (1 Timothy 6:17-19)

With the death toll at 98 and rising, flooding of epic proportions on the east coast, millions without power, and an estimated $50 – $60 billion worth of damage, there’s not much we can say about Hurricane Sandy that’s cause for celebration. Making matters worse, FEMA is running out of money and the storm's proximity to next Tuesday’s election gives it added resonance. At a time when the nation seems economically paralyzed and politically polarized, the calamity of “Frankenstorm” gives all of us some pause for thought. The perfect storm, they say.

What Sandy (and the response to it) has demonstrated is that when the media devotes wall-to-wall attention to something, and government officials bring a sense of urgency and ask the public to respond in kind, remarkable things can happen. What this past weekend, and the days that have followed has demonstrated is that even though we can't do anything to stop a hurricane, we can help mitigate a storm’s destructive impact with resolve and collective action. It appears that the capacity for human compassion and action is always present.

But why do we tap into that kind of resolve only when natural disasters and external attacks occur? We’ve seen bombs over Baghdad, and have witnessed the ancient land of Abraham become a war zone for his descendants. So, you’d think we’d have seen enough. But then came the tsunami in Japan – a roaring wave that sucked life and innocence out to sea.

The truth is we have another crisis that's been hovering over us for years and shows no sign of blowing over. And in that regard, Jesus criticized the leaders of his day for focusing on the weather and ignoring the signals: “You find it easy enough to forecast the weather — why can't you read the signs of the times?” (Matt. 16:2-3)

As you’ve listened to evacuees and survivors, have you noticed their words? No one laments a lost plasma television, or submerged SUV. No one runs through the streets yelling, “My cordless drill is missing,” or “My golf clubs were washed away.” If they mourn, it’s for people lost. If they rejoice, it’s for family found.

“Where is God in this storm?” The disciples asked Jesus that identical question. “Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go before Him to the other side …. He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray. Now, when evening came, He was alone there. But the boat was now in the middle of the sea, tossed by the waves, for the wind was contrary.” (Mt. 14:22-24) In other words, what we have seen off America’s eastern coast, the disciples saw on the Galilean Sea: tall, angry waves. Their fishing boat bounced and spun on the white-tops. The sky rumbled above them, the water churned beneath them. And I wonder if they asked, “Where is Jesus? He told us to get into the boat. Now we’re alone in the storm? Where is he?”

The answer? Praying. “He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray.” Jesus made intercession his priority. Did he know about the storm? Could He feel the winds and see the thunder? No doubt. And when he sensed the danger, he chose to pray. He still does. He offers unending intercession on our behalf. He is “in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us.” (Rom. 8:34) He prays us through the storm. And, at the right moment, He meets us in it. “… Jesus went to them, walking on the sea.” (Mt. 14:25) Jesus became the answer to his own prayer. He entered the turbulent world of his friends and reached out to them.

And he’s doing the same at this very moment. Through the steady hands of first responders; the compassion of physicians; the kindness of neighbors. The generosity of people like you and me. We see only a small portion of his activity. But we know this: he still steps into the super-storms of life. And, let’s face it: this is a turbulent time for our country. Struggling economy. International conflicts. A divided electorate. And now, an unprecedented storm.

Could Jesus also be reminding us that people matter more than possessions? In a land where we have more malls than high schools, more debt than credit, more clothes to wear than days to live, could Jesus be saying, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions"? (Luke 12:15)

We see entire communities washed away, or up in smoke. We see demolished $40,000 cars that will never be driven again, hidden in debris. We see facades blown away, houses rocked off their foundation and tons of sand where grass once grew. We see tankers grounded in an area that was once a boardwalk and a park. And in the background of our minds we hear the quiet echoes of Jesus saying, “What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” (Matthew 16:26)

Raging hurricanes have a way of prying our fingers off the stuff we love. What was once most precious means very little now; and what we once ignored is now of eternal importance and significance. If all our possessions were washed away in a tidal wave of disaster, could we still worship? Better yet, would we still worship? The answer to that question is probably indicative of our grip strength on the stuff we cherish most.

Through circumstances like Sandy, Christ reminds us, “Stuff doesn’t matter; people do. So, understand the nature of possessions.” But we must be equally clear on the nature of people. We’ve seen the most incredible servants and stories of selflessness and sacrifice. We’ve seen people rescuing their neighbors and civil servants risking their lives for people they’ve never met. We saw, and continue to see humanity at its best. But we’ve also seen humanity at its worst.

Looting. Fighting. Internet scams in the wake of Sandy’s aftermath. We’ve heard stories of rapes and robberies and fights at the gas pumps. Someone once said, “The heavens declare the glory of God, but the streets declare the sinfulness of man.” The video footage taken in various areas of the east coast has only served to confirm the sad truth of that observation.

We are people of both dignity and depravity. The hurricane blew back more than roofs; it blew the mask off the nature of mankind. The main problem in the world is not global warming or Mother Nature, but human nature. Strip away the police barricades, or blow down the fences and the real self is revealed: we are barbaric to the core.

We were born with a “me-first” mentality. And if you don’t believe that, just ask yourself whether or not you had to teach your kids how to argue. They don’t have to be trained to demand their way, do they? You don’t have to show them how to stomp their feet and pout, do you? It’s their nature … it’s our nature. “All of us have strayed like sheep. We have left God’s paths to follow our own.” (Isaiah 53:6)

God’s chosen word for our fallen condition is spelled, “SIN.” And sin celebrates the letter in the middle.  I.  Left to our own devices, we lead godless, out of control lives of “…doing what we felt like doing, when we felt like doing it.” (Ephesians 2:3) And we don’t have to go to Atlantic City or lower Manhattan to see the chaos. When you do what you want to do, and I do what I want to do, humanity and civility implodes.

And when the Sandy’s of life blow in, our true nature is revealed and our deepest need exposed: a need deeper than food and more permanent than boarded up houses and police barricades. We don’t need a new system; we need a new nature. We need to be changed from the inside out.

A lot of discussion will continue around the future of some of the more devastated areas of the East Coast, particularly New Jersey. Will the cities be restored? Will the boardwalk be repaired? How long will it take? Who will pay for it? But one thing is for certain: someone will have to clean it up. No one is suggesting otherwise. Everyone knows, someone has to go in and clean up the mess.

And that’s what God offers to do with us. He comes into our sin-flooded lives and wipes up the old. When Paul reflected on his own conversion, it prompted him to write, “He gave us a good bath, and we came out of it new people, washed inside and out by the Holy Spirit.” (Titus 3:5) Our sins don’t stand a chance against the scrub brush of God’s grace.

But he does more than just clean us up; he rebuilds us. In the form of his Holy Spirit, God moves in and starts a renovation project, a complete makeover. “God can do anything, you know – far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.” (Eph. 3:20) And what we can only dream of doing with the affected cities of New Jersey, God has done with soul after soul. And he can do the same with us, too. If we let him.

The most disturbing stories from this week are of those who refused to be rescued. Those who spent their final hours trapped in rooms and regretting the choice they’d made. They could have been saved. They could have gotten out. Instead, they chose to stay. And many paid a permanent price. But we don’t have to pay that price. What rescuers did for people on the East Coast, God can do for us. He has entered our world. He has dropped a rope into our sin-swamped life. He will rescue; we simply need to grab onto his promises and let him lift us out.

Think of all the things that Noah couldn’t find because of the flood. He couldn’t find his neighborhood; he couldn’t find his house; he couldn’t find the comforts of home, or the neighbors down the street. Frankly, there wasn’t much left that he could find. But what he did find made all the difference. Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord. (Gen. 6:8)

You see, if we have everything and no grace, we’ve got nothing. But if we have nothing but grace, we have everything. Have you found grace? It’s right there, you know. The hand of your rescuer is reaching out for you. Grab his hand. Trust in him while you still can. Your redeemer lives, and he wants to rescue you – perfect storms and all.

Grace,

Randy