SERMON           

                    Picnics in the Storm                                  

                                     Acts, Chapter 27                                    

      Pastor Robyn Hogue                  September 13, 2015                Skyline Presbyterian Church

 

 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we always felt as though we were always on “top of the world?” That we would always be in a positive mood, with circumstances involving us always to our liking. That people would always treat us with the respect we feel is due us, and give us all the affirmation and love that we desire and need.

Trouble is…that trouble is something that belongs to the human race. I’ve yet to meet anyone who can boast of being totally free from it. It is one of those common denominators that links everyone who has lived, who is now living, or who will live on this earth.

Troubles produce “tough days.” We’ve all experienced them and we know that some seem to be worse than others are. I’ve had days pop up in my life, and no doubt you have too, when we wonder why we ever crawled out of bed that morning, and then wonder if we’re going to make it back to bed that night. In one Peanuts comic strip, Charlie Brown says to Lucy, “I’ve got so many troubles that if anything happens to me today it will be two weeks before I can worry about it.” We can identify with good old Charlie Brown.

No matter who you are, trouble, in one of its various forms, is going to come knocking unexpectedly at your door one day. You don’t need to spend your time looking for it—for it will find you. Trouble knows your address.

Acts chapter 27 begins with the first leg of Paul’s journey to Rome, accompanied by his friends Luke and Aristarchus, the centurion Julius, his guards, and a squad of soldiers. The first ship takes Paul from Caesarea to Myra, by way of Sidon. There the party boards an Egyptian grain ship for the voyage to Rome. From the very beginning, Luke observes that “the winds were against us.” Those unfavorable winds continue and, in addition, winter is coming upon them. Winter is a bad time to be sailing the Mediterranean on an old ship such as theirs.

Does the fact that “the winds were against them” seem surprising? Wasn’t Paul God’s hand-picked missionary to Rome? How could the winds be against him? We’re reminded again that there is no guarantee that the winds of life won’t be against us—believer or unbeliever. Whether we are on some errand of evil or some work of mercy, we’re all subject to the same winds.

How have you handled troubles or storms in the past? How will you handle those that will inevitably come in the months ahead?

For the most part, we learn our behaviors and attitudes from models. For example, we now know that for many animal behaviors are not innate at all. Elephants taken from their mothers at a very young age, having had no experience of being mothered, don’t know with to do with their own young. Mothering apparently is a learned skill in pachyderms. It turns out that mothering in mammals is a set of learned skills. It’s true for primates. It is true for humans too.

For the most part, we learn how to handle storms from models. And from those models we’ve learned to handle life’s storms constructively or destructively. In any trouble or storm, major or minor, financial, medical, spiritual or physical, we have learned some pattern of behavior. Let’s say, for example, you are driving on a lonely mountain road with a member of your family in the passenger seat. It is 2:00 AM and you run out of gas. There are no other cars, no gas station for miles. There is no cell reception. What learned behavior would you bring to that situation? Let’s make this a multiple choice question with the following options:

(1)   You crumple and fold. You simply go to pieces.

(2)   You blame someone. After all, this is one of the great perks in close relationships. You always have someone to blame. “Babe, if you had just put gas in the car as I told you, this wouldn’t have happened!!!” It’s great to have someone else to blame. During your youth you can say that what’s wrong with you is your parents’ fault. Then, when you’re mature, you can blame the younger generation for causing most of the world’s problems. It’s a pretty slick system.

(3)   You can blame yourself. This is the thing I tend to do. When disaster hits, my inner critic takes over, “Robyn, how could you let this happen? Didn’t you see this coming?” This kind of breast beating and self-berating doesn’t help the situation one bit.

(4)   You can pretend it is not happening. You say, “I think I’ll just take a nap.” It’s a way of handling a problem by dropping out. You can put on our headset and go jogging. You’re in our own bubble, transported to our own world, and you leave all unpleasantness behind…and to someone else.

(5)   You can use a chemical solution—drink a little booze, take a few pills, smoke some pot.  It won’t change the circumstances, but you can be oblivious to them…at least for a time.

(6)   You can use the Scout’s motto: Always be prepared. This is not a bad plan. Perhaps you’re good organizers. There’s a better way to do everything. Perhaps you can use those matches in the first aid kit to send up smoke signals from that lonely road in the mountains and someone will get us help. You can eat the stale but available granola bars you’ve packed in that aged emergency kit in the trunk and walk on out in tomorrow’s daylight. You have a plan of action for every disaster.

Those are all viable options, but let’s see what we can learn from the one Paul models for us in his shipwreck.

Paul says, “This is terrible. It looks like the ship could go down. But I believe in God and before it happens, let’s eat. You haven’t eaten for a while. Sit down and take some nourishment.” While the ship is rocking on the waves he organizes a picnic lunch. “Somebody pass the pumpernickel. Where’s the salami? Who’s got the mustard? Open the wine.” And they all sat down and ate and felt encouraged in the midst of this storm at sea.

Mark Twain once said, “I’m an old man and I have seen a lot of troubles in my lifetime that never happened.” In the midst of storms, worrying is like driving with the emergency brake on. It wears out the car parts. It is counterproductive. The people around us need the church to model a constructive way of dealing with misfortune. We have the opportunity to witness to them, not so much through written sermons, but through the lives of people who can function with confidence when the winds are against them.

It is at the end of this violent, storm-tossed night that Paul suggests they eat. He takes bread, blesses it and begins to eat. In these few words we see again our Lord Jesus blessing bread, breaking it and eating with His disciples. It is His last meal before His arrest. He is on His way to crucifixion and He takes time to eat. In these few words we remember Jesus’ feeding of the 5000 and how He calmed the storms.

Seeing Paul eat, the men on the ship eat as well. Friends, there are people around you that need you to nurture your spiritual health in order that you can help them do the same. They need us to be people who can picnic in the storm.

Paul believes in God. He believes that God is with him in his storm. He expects God to be at work. And God is with you, at work right now in the midst of whatever storms you are facing. The course may be difficult and fraught with hardships, but ultimately we know Christ is going to get us through this life by His grace. We can relax.

When we look to our heavenly guide for an assuring sign when we’re in the midst of a personal disaster—the sign says, “You’re going to make it. Let’s have a picnic.” Handling disasters, large or small, is a test of our faith. We are modeling for others our fear or our faith, our panic or our confidence. When disasters hit, let’s not waste them. Let’s be the ones who say, “Let’s have a picnic.”