Genesis 8: 6-22; 9:12-17
II Corinthians 8:1-7
 
Theology follows experience. That is to say, during any given event—say, a flood—we are concerned with what is happening at the time: keeping ourselves and our neighbors safe, protecting our property. Only later can we reflect on what has happened and seek to understand what the event might show us about God.
 
And while there is still much to do , for a few minutes this morning I want to reflect a little on how we might understand the recent events from a faith perspective.
 
First—and it pretty well goes without saying here, but nevertheless—we recognize that the floods do not indicate the judgment of God in any way. In fact, we could say that the Bible makes us unable to talk in such terms. While the story of Noah is presented as God’s judgment on the world, it ends with God’s promise to never destroy creation again. Anyone who wants to claim that some natural disaster is God’s judgment just really hasn’t read their Bible very well.
 
And what’s God got against Iowans anyway? Did you see John Stewart on the Daily Show last week, with his bold affirmation of faith that God couldn’t be punishing Iowans because, well, we’re such nice people? “Travel their highways,” he said. “They give out pies at their tollbooths.” Actually we’re so nice, we don’t have tollbooths, do we?
 
It is not God’s judgment but nature’s unknowing indifference toward human affairs that we have seen. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike, we are told. The deserving and the undeserving all receive the benefits and the liabilities of this natural world. Any judgment would be the judgment that we are bringing upon ourselves through our own lack of care for creation that is resulting in climate change and increasingly severe weather systems around the world.
 
If the flooding does not show us much about God, it does tell us something about the church.
 
“Two things are absolutely essential for the church,” says the noted preacher Fred Craddock. Two things: “Jesus Christ and human need.” In that place where the church dwells are the rich and the poor, the haves and the have nots, the powerful and the powerless. There are those who are educated and those who are ignorant. There are those who believe and those who don’t believe. There are the high and the mighty and the lowly who nobody knows. In between is the church of Jesus Christ …The church is to be the gospel—[the good news ]—for all these people. As long as you have Christ and as long as you have needs, you have the church.”
So it is that in recent months we have heard of how the church is found in China and Myanmar —at work in the face of great destruction, addressing both the physical and spiritual needs of devastated people.
 
And now we discover that the church is found throughout the Midwest, throughout our state, and here in Iowa City and Coralville. Human need is great and those who know the good news of Jesus Christ are responding to that need.
 
What has been called Iowa ’s worst natural disaster occurred in the larger context of disasters around the world. Our Mission Board was planning to receive a special offering to help with relief efforts for the earthquake in China and the cyclone in Myanmar —and maybe we’d even help the people in Parkersburg . And, yes, some in this congregation wondered if there was the danger of “compassion fatigue” setting in. Maybe we were getting weary of hearing about one disaster after another. Should we talk much about earthquakes and storms and human need when gas prices were skyrocketing and the war in Iraq was dragging on? Would we tire of hearing about those whose homes were destroyed, whose livelihoods were taken away?
 
Then suddenly our city, our university became the subjects of nightly news reports. Suddenly we were the victims, we were those in need. Suddenly churches were contacting us saying, “Can we come and help you ?” Suddenly congregations were collecting money for us .
 
Last Sunday I shared an email that came from Aaron Roberts, the pastor at Plymouth UCC in Fargo , North Dakota . He said that as a congregation in a town prone to flooding, they would be praying for us during worship. This past week Aaron wrote again, this time to say that this morning as they worship, they will be receiving a special collection for the UCC Disaster Support, and that they will be praying for our congregation in particular once more.
 
Not all have become fatigued—and not even here. As Paul once advised, we bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of love.
 
We are overwhelmed by human need because we do care . We are troubled because we do love our neighbors; because we do love life itself. When what we love is threatened, we are scared.
 
Listen again as the Psalmist affirms: “Therefore we will not fear. . .though the waters roar and foam.”
 
I guess the easy way through the turmoil and uncertainty of these days is to say that Jesus will handle it all, that he calmed the waters of Galilee and can calm the storms in our lives and our world as well.
 
As faithful people in the Congregational tradition, however, we don’t wait for Jesus to take care of things.
It’s been a strange week in many ways. Before the flood waters came there was the flurry of activity—filling sandbags, securing houses, moving books and artwork. Once the waters came in their full force, there was little left that could be done. Much of the week was spent waiting for the waters to recede so that the damage could be assessed and recovery efforts could begin. The weather was beautiful, and in some parts of the city one would have no idea of the nearby devastation.
 
We understand the story of Noah as a myth, an ancient story that while not factual is deeply true. Reading it recently, I was struck by the waiting after the flood is over. Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting for the water to recede. Waiting for the ground to dry. After a disaster, nothing happens quickly.
 
We’ve been in a period of waiting for much of the past week: Waiting to get back to homes, back to businesses; waiting for roads and bridges to reopen; waiting for classes to restart and waiting to reenter University buildings. Waiting for life to return to normal—although there’s a growing sense that that will take some time and that “normal” will be something new.
 
In our waiting, the psalmist reminds us of God's word: “Be still, and know that I am God.”
 
God is greater than the storms that rage.
 
God is greater than the tumult of the nations.
 
Yes, God is greater even than we are—greater than our fear and our apathy and our problems. In stillness we might discover the ability to respond to the challenges around us.
Be still, for even in the midst of the storm, “God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble.”
 
Who can speak like this?
 
Those who are still. Those who have lived through the storms and looking back see that it was something other than their own power that got them through. And those of us who will listen to their testimony.
 
If we are willing to be still and to listen we can know God, our refuge and our strength.
 
Be still, the psalmist says. In stillness before God we might discover what needs to be done rather than simply what can be done. In stillness we might better discover our own ability to act and our ability to be the church of Christ in a world of need.
 
In the stillness after the flood we slowly discovered what needed to be done. There have been visits and meetings and phone calls and emails as we check in on each other and start to chart a course for this congregation in the coming months. We’re looking for ways to support those members of our church whose homes and businesses have been damaged by the floods. We’ve been talking with the University about the School of Music using our organ and our piano and our acoustically wonderful space since the music building might not be operational until January. We’ve been talking with the Red Cross about helping to house some of their 200 workers who will be arriving. We’ve meet with the rest of the Consultation of Religious Communities and with city government to coordinate the support of individual victims and larger relief efforts.
God does not ask that we have patience while our lives or the life the world are miserable. The God who created us desires that our lives be abundantly full. God is seeking partnership with us in both the storms and the clear weather of life.
 
We think it’s up to us. We think we act alone and that when we’re tired or out of resources the game is over. Not really.
 
This is how it happens in the church: one group sends money, another drives trucks filled with donations, another group arrives to serve meals, another group shows up to rebuild a house. In our Congregational independence we often overlook that we are connected—we are a part of a much larger whole —the body of Christ. It depends on us—but it doesn’t all depend on us alone .
 
We don’t live as Christians in isolation. We recognize this as Congregationalists, emphasizing the importance of the life of faith lived together. We join together to witness to God’s love and to work for peace in the world. We join together to support each other, to offer encouragement.
 
How else but together as Christ’s church can we expect to make any difference in the world?
 
What seems impossible alone becomes, in our best moments, a way of life filled with the grace of God and love shared with other men, women, youth and children.
 
Friends, there is a great deal of work to be done. There is great and challenging work to be done in this town and in this nation and around the globe. God will provide richly as we take up the task of rebuilding our city and our nation and this world.
 
Human need and Jesus Christ are both still present—right here in our community, around the world. Let us continue with the work of being the church in this place.