Devotional 3-21-08

THE GEESE IN THE STORM

Lectionary Reading: John 13: 36 – 38

Amos Speerman was a Maine potato farmer. He lived in a rural community near the great Northern Woods. His simple lifestyle reflected his modest needs. His religious life was equally plain spoken: Amos was a simple believer. As one of the proverbial pillars in the local Methodist Church, he was a solid Trinitarian. On those occasions when the congregation recited the Nicene Creed during worship, Amos' voice rang out with conviction... "the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, one in being with the Father." After all, the concept that God the Creator was incarnate in the person of Jesus Christ had been adopted by the Council of Chalcedon in 451 AD. So, who was Amos to dispute such a long standing claim? Within the comfort of his traditional Sunday worship service, the triune reality was clear and convincing to Amos: one God manifest in three separate component parts.

But, late at night as he studied the flickering embers in his fireplace and pondered life's meaning, Amos secretly admitted that the Christian doctrine of Incarnation made little sense. How could anything as powerful as God the Creator become fully vested in the body of any solitary human being, and why in the world would God the Infinite ever do such a thing? It was a puzzle for him which would not resolve.

One afternoon in late March, while tending his fields, an unexpected snow storm quickly developed and drove Amos indoors to the warmth of his hearth. Blizzard conditions soon materialized, and visibility across the fields of the farm became difficult. The fierce storm railed on through dusk, and, just about the time when the tree lines became absorbed in darkness, Amos heard repeated thumping sounds coming from outside his house. Curious as to the source of these strange noises, he ventured outdoors into the swirling wind.

Through the darkness he saw a large gaggle of geese grounded on the field closest to his house. The migrating fowl appeared disoriented by the blinding snow. They flapped their wings aimlessly and flew in random low circles. Some were dazed and physically injured from having flown into the side of Amos' house. He quickly ascertained that without food or shelter these geese were in danger and, with equal speed, he seized upon their deliverance. "The barn", he hissed into the wind, "I must get them into the barn".

He raced to his largest barn which housed his livestock; tore open the latches on the main barn doors; and quickly turned on the inside lights. A dim glow radiated out into the cold night air. With the barn doors wide open, the stalls and grain bins located inside were revealed to the geese. Then he ran back to the center of the circle where most of the geese were concentrated and shouted "into the barn . . . get in the barn". But the geese were not inclined to notice either the barn or their need for safety. None of the geese moved in the direction of the beaconing barn.
Undeterred Amos ran into his kitchen. He soon reappeared outside and ran back into the circle of geese with a loaf of bread in one hand and a lit lantern in the other. He set the lantern on the ground and broke the bread into small pieces, making a bread trail into the heart of the barn. But the geese were not hungry and none followed his bread line anywhere.

Fully frustrated, he ran to the rear of the gaggle and attempted to run individual geese through the barn's open doors. This only resulted in a more widely scattered circle of geese, with not one goose secured inside the barn's safety.

Breathless, Amos cursed the darkness . . . 'Why can't I get their attention; why won't they follow me; I know what's best and what's safe for them, so why do they just ignore me?" As he raised his hands to his hips in an effort to catch his breath, he said out loud, "if only I were a goose, I could save them. If I were a goose I would be like them and they would be like me, and then we could communicate, and where I led them, they would follow . . . if only I were a goose."

When he heard himself say those 6 words a second time a cathartic moment occurred in his life. Like lightening, the Incarnation puzzle was solved. There, in the middle of his windswept field, Amos fell to his knees. Boundless joy filled his heart while tears of thanksgiving filled his face. The Incarnation was a mystery no more. If only I were a goose I would be like them and they would follow me.

"If only I were a goose" he prayed, "I could teach, heal and witness to them. I could work miracles for them; make sacrifices for them, and help them learn how to pray. I could single some of them out for discipleship, and together we could testify to the others that the barn is the only place on this farm where safety and meaningful living can be found . . . a life which overcomes and outlasts all storms. And, if they still persisted in not going into that barn, I could fly over the barn's doors, spread my wings, allow myself to be nailed to the wall and die there so that all the other geese could see me. Because I showed them the way through sacrificing my life, surely they would follow me and find their way into that barn."

For the first time in his life of faith Amos, on his knees in that field, understood Incarnation. To this point, the concept of Trinity had been words on a page to be recited in church but not truly lived in real time. In his encounter with those geese, he had actually become engaged by a fully present God interacting with him in a manner unavailable to a Creator who had chosen to merely remain distant. The power of the Incarnation simply took Amos' breath away.

And, whatever became of those stranded geese in Amos' field? Fortunately for us, the verdict is still out on that question. Today as you read this writing we find ourselves still in the month of March with life's storm still raging all around us. But the real truth about the shallow nature of our faith is that neither you nor I have yet to fully commit ourselves to going into the safety of that barn. Today, on Good Friday, the darkest day in all Christendom, there is really one and only one question for us all . . . Will we?

Tom Craig