"If You Dare" (1 Kings 17:8-24)

As many of you know, our regional church – the Pacific Southwest region of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) – is planning a week-long mission trip later this summer; a “Miracle Week” of renovation at several smaller congregations with limited resources on the island of Oahu.

The Miracle Week mission trip is planned for August, but today, the first Sunday of June, a number of congregations in our region are highlighting this important ministry in worship. This is easily the biggest project of its type that I can remember in our region. Despite some initial excitement, I am not aware of anyone in our congregation who has registered to go, and time is, of course, running short. If anyone is interested in going, you should register as soon as possible.

There are, of course, other ways to participate. A trip like this needs prayers. A trip like this needs funding. Materials and supplies need to be purchased. If you feel called to contribute, please see me after worship.

It was suggested to pastors in the region that they use the first Sunday in June to preach on Miracle Week, using one of the scriptures that describe Jesus’ miraculous feeding of the 5,000. None of those stories are among today’s lectionary readings, which isn’t a big deal, except that as I read through the passages that are listed in the lectionary for today, I found a story that spoke to me more deeply, a story that has a powerful message not only for Miracle Week but also for our lives as Christians and our life as a congregation.

It takes place during a terrible, terrible drought. The wadis were dry. (A wadi is what we in southern California would call an arroyo, a seasonal stream.) The rains had ceased to fall. The air was so dry, in the mornings, there wasn’t even any dew. And no matter how deep you dug down into the soil, all you’d find is dry, dusty dirt.

Elijah, the prophet of God, was living by one of these wadis when it dried up. The Lord told him to go to Zarephath, a city way, way to the north. In fact, when Jesus talked about how the prophets ministered to people in foreign lands, people who weren’t a part of mainstream Judaism, he mentioned Elijah in Zarephath as an example.

In Zarephath, Elijah was to find a widow who would provide him food and water. So he went, and sure enough, right there at the city gate, he saw the widow.

She was carrying a handful of sticks, and was walking around, and every time she saw another stick, she’d bend down, pick it up, shake the dust off of it, and continue searching for more. There was a lot of dust, on account of the drought, and the people and the horses going in and out of the gate; and her throat was dry and sore.

Elijah’s throat was dry and sore, too. He approached the widow and requested a drink of water. As she turned to retrieve it, he said, “bring me a morsel of bread, too.”

She turned and looked at Elijah, and said: “Look. I have no bread. I have nothing baked at all. All I have is a tiny bit of meal and a few drops of oil. I’m gathering these sticks so that I may go home and prepare it for my son and me. It will be our last meal. We have nothing left. We are going to eat it and die.”

Elijah said, “No; first bring me some, after you make it; then make some more for you and your son. Do that, and God will not let your meal or your oil run out. There will always be enough to make another loaf.”

Now, I don’t know about you, but to me, that seems a bit risky: I have just enough food left for one meal, one small loaf, one tiny little cake, and you want me to give it to you, and trust you when you say that somehow, the ingredients will be replenished, and I’ll still have enough to feed myself; and not just today, but tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that?

The scripture says that this woman, this widow, went and did what Elijah said. That’s all it says, but I wonder what was going through her head. Did the thought ever occur to her that this might have been some low-down crook who was trying to scam her into giving him the very last of her food?

According to the scripture, it wasn’t until much later that she knew for sure that Elijah was a man of God, and that the word he spoke was true. She didn’t come to that understanding until much later. How risky was it, then, for her to trust Elijah and do what he said…

Would you dare take such a risk? Even if you knew that Elijah was a prophet whose word was true, would you dare take your last bit of food, pass it by the wide eyes of your hungry child, and give it to a man you just met, who has nothing to give you but a promise? Would you dare take that risk?

When Jesus fed the 5,000 (yeah, I’ll talk about that, too): do you remember how it happened? Jesus and his disciples needed a break; they needed some privacy. So they went to a deserted place. But, seeing them go, the crowds followed. They didn’t run home first to get a sack lunch, because then they might have been left behind. It would have been more comfortable, and less risky, if they could have gone home first. Of course, it would have been even more comfortable and less risky if they had just stayed home. But they decided to risk it, and follow Jesus out into the wilderness.

And when they got hungry in that remote place, the disciples said to Jesus: “Send them home, or at least, send them to a nearby town, where they can find food and lodging.” But Jesus said to them: “Take care of it yourselves. You give them something to eat. Make them sit down in groups, and tell them food is on the way.”

If you were one of those disciples, would you dare do what Jesus said? Would promise people that food is on its way, when there was no food as far as you could tell? Would you sit them down in groups for a meal? Would you dare begin a project as big as feeding 5,000 people, if the chances of success were next to zero? Or, if you were the widow, would you dare give up your last bit of food, even though doing so means a giant leap into a deep, dark pit, not knowing if there was a mattress at the bottom, or dark, jagged rocks….

Faith calls us to do crazy things sometimes. Faith can call upon us to risk it all, to dare to do the most audacious, most extreme things imaginable. Faith calls upon us to think big.

After all, we’re helping to build the kingdom of God here!

I believe that, this summer, God is challenging us, calling us, to think big. God is calling us to go beyond the normal routine, and do something extreme, something that’s going to require a lot of faith on our part, something that’s going to require acts of faith and hard work.

I believe that great things will happen if we are willing to take a risk, to give away what may seem like the last morsel of bread in exchange for a promise. I believe that great things will happen if we are willing to set the table, and then trust God to provide the food. The time is right to do all the things that we know God is calling us to do.

At our last elders meeting, we were talking some about the history of our congregation, and where we are at today. I say “we were talking;” mostly, I just sat and listened as our elders talked.

And I’m glad I did. In the conversation, I heard a little more about the road we’ve traveled. I heard, once again, about tumultuous times in the not-so-distant past, and the tremendous healing that has taken place since. In all the conversations I’ve had with people over the past two years, it has been made clear to me that God has been present throughout this time of healing.

But not only that; in many of these conversations, it has also been made clear to me that God was there even in the difficult times. Think about it: no coming-of-age story is without conflict. Conflict is necessary to help one grow and move into the next stage of development. I don’t think that we are to avoid conflict. I think that we need to learn to manage conflict, support one another when we are in conflict, listen to one another, and use conflict to help us grow.

Well, in the past few years, things have been pretty quiet. Some of our elders said that it’s like we’ve become turtles, afraid to stick our heads out, preferring instead to stay inside our shell where it’s safe, where we feel protected.

Now, there is a time and a place for everything, and sometimes it’s necessary to hide in one’s shell, to seek the safety and protection it offers. But one can’t always play it safe. Even a turtle, if it wants to get moving again, needs to come out of its shell.

I believe that it’s time for us to do the same.

I believe that it’s time for us to risk believing in the future to which God is calling us.

I believe that it’s time to risk committing ourselves to that future, to work for that future, to give even our last bit of meal and oil for the promise that future holds.

I believe that it’s time to dream big, and believe me, I have some dreams, some ideas, that I plan on presenting to you this summer; and I hope you will share your dreams and ideas as well.

I believe that it’s time for us to become the people God calls us to be – the church God calls us to be – risking it all for the sake of the kingdom.

And when we start dreaming big, planning big, and doing big things, I ask that you remember these words of Bruce Wilkinson, who wrote the book The Prayer of Jabez: “As God’s chosen, blessed sons and daughters, we are expected to attempt something large enough that failure is guaranteed … unless God steps in.”

There is no faith if we only do those things that we are capable of. A church is not a church unless it dares to rely on God to carry out its mission and its ministry.