"My God, My God, Have Your Forsaken Me?"

No, not again. You have got to be kidding me. Not one storm but two? Two weeks apart. Helene then Milton. 

As a native Floridian I’ve lived through more than a dozen serious hurricanes. I distinctly remember being 12 years old in 1992 in South Florida as Hurricane Andrew ran through and nearly ran over us. While we didn’t lose our home so many others were not as lucky. 

As a priest when a hurricane bears down on my home and congregation I go through several stages. First, I experienced the initial shock of realizing that this is not a drill. This is the real thing. I have to get ready. I have to get my family ready. I have to get my parish ready. 

After the initial shock wears off I begin to make a flurry of phone calls. I call my wife to let her know that we have to start planning for a possible evacuation for our one dog, two cats, two gerbils and don’t forget the teenagers! I call my senior and junior warden to initiate our emergency action plan. I begin to think about how this is going to disrupt the carefully organized schedule of worship and formation of my parish, how I hate to miss a Sunday or teaching a class. And then reality hits again. The safety of my family and my congregation, the safety of the people to whom God has entrusted to me are more important than anything. 

I have found that one of the hardest aspects of preparing for a hurricane is that while we often only have a short time in which to prepare, the wait for the storm to arrive is unbearable. It’s like that asteroid in the movie Armageddon. We don’t want it to get here but if it’s coming we just wish it would get here already. Not knowing can be the hardest part…until the storm arrives. 

My friends who live across the country call and text me to ask what they can do. They reassure me that they are praying for me, opening their homes to me in case we want to make the drive to escape the storm. They remind me that it doesn’t matter the distance, the love of friends, especially friends with whom you have suffered, prayed, and worked, always comforts me. In this deep, troubled water I'm glad I'm not swimming alone. 

One of the texts in the lectionary this week for Sunday October 13th, 2023 is Psalm 22. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me”. It feels like the lectionary, God or both have a sense of humor. Or maybe there’s a reason that this is the text with which so many preachers will have to wrestle this week. That cry from David, the cry that Jesus Christ will echo from the cross before he draws his last breath comes from a place of honesty, vulnerability, and raw emotion. David and Jesus cried out to God because they were wondering where God was in the moment when they needed him the most. They cried out of fear and pain. They cried out of desperation. But most of all they cried because on some level they knew that God was listening. 

That’s the thing about prayer. When we pray we are already making a statement of faith. To call out to God, even if I am accusing him of not being there for me, is still acknowledging that on some level that I think he’s there. David doesn’t stop at the accusation, he continues with a reminder:

3 Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the one Israel praises.

4 In you our ancestors put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them.

5 To you they cried out and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

It’s as if David is saying, “God, I know you’ve been there for me before. I know that you can do anything. You’ve delivered your people. They put your trust in you and so do I”. 

But that trust doesn’t mean that I am going to be saved in the way that I imagine. It doesn’t mean that I will avoid pain or discomfort. It means that God will not forget me in the hour of my greatest need, he will send me people and prayer to comfort and guide me. He will also inspire me to do the same for others. 

The time before a storm is spent asking, “What do I need?”. The answers usually hover around water, gas, food, a place to stay and my personal favorite, patience. After the storm we will need one another. We will need to know that we are not alone. We will need to be reminded that the same God who saved the Israelites at the Red Sea, the same God who sent Jesus Christ into the world to save us, the same God who would not abandon his only begotten son to the tomb, is the same God who hears our prayers. 

I pray that you and I will ride out this storm safely. 

My God, My God, I know you have not forsaken me. You are not far from the anguish of my cries. 

Amen