Shelter from the Stormy Blast

November 14, 2025

Shelter from the Stormy Blast

November 16, 2025

Opening Thought

I love "end of the world" movies. I don't know why, I just do. They're awesome! Movies like Outbreak, 2012, Greenland, Don't Look Up, or even the terrifying World War Z. Whether it's about global conflict, asteroids, or brain-eating zombies, they are terrifying and exciting all at the same time, fueling our need for an adrenaline rush. (P.S. don't watch A House of Dynamite if you want a resolved and happy ending!)

We come to church seeking peace, but this Sunday, our lessons greet us with that same apocalyptic energy. Jesus stands in front of the magnificent temple and foretells its complete destruction, "not one stone will be left upon another." The prophet Malachi speaks of a day "burning like an oven."

When Jesus was speaking to his disciples, do you think any of those images were going through their minds? Objects from space destroying the planet? Earthquakes and raging fire? I bet so. It would only be 40-50 years later that Mount Vesuvius would erupt and destroy Pompeii. Maybe rabid zombies didn't cross their minds, but who knows.

These are frightening, unsettling words. But here's the key: even in Jesus's warnings and Malachi's prophecy, there is hope. Jesus isn't just trying to scare them; he is preparing them. "By your endurance you will gain your souls," he says. He knows there will be trials, persecution, and suffering. He is preparing us to face the trial, to weather the storm, promising that through him, there is a safe harbor.

This is difficult. We know what we have to do and who to trust, but we are human, and flawed, and weak. And Jesus knows this. It is okay. We do the best we can and forge ahead into the unknown, just knowing that we are not alone.

Jesus is setting up the story of his second coming. In just a few weeks, we will begin the season of Advent. This time of anticipation is not just about the Christ child; it is also about waiting for his return in glory. Jesus says people will be fearful, but for believers, these signs mean "your redemption draws nigh."

This is where our liturgy, in its profound wisdom, answers our fear—not with more words, but with Word and Song. It builds us a shelter within the chaos, reminding us that our true temple is the presence of the living God, our "shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home." So rest easy, my friends. It is not the end of the world, yet (I think), and just know that even if it is, God himself is there.

Now, let me find another apocalyptic film to watch.

Engaging the Word

Our journey into the Word begins with the jarring words from Luke's Gospel (21:5-19). As people admire the temple's beauty, Jesus delivers his "little apocalypse." He warns of terrifying events, both cosmic (earthquakes, famines) and personal (betrayal by family, persecution for his name). He offers no easy escape. Instead, he offers a single, powerful command: "By your endurance you will gain your souls." This is the core challenge of the day: faith is not an escape from hardship, but the strength to endure it.

The prophet Malachi (4:1-2a) provides the Old Testament lens for this judgment. A great and terrible day is coming, "burning like an oven" for the arrogant and evildoers. But for those who revere God's name, the outcome is not fire, but healing. For them, "the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings." God's judgment, for the faithful, is not destruction but a purifying dawn.

But how are we to live while we wait and endure? 2 Thessalonians (3:6-13) gives us the practical, earthly charge. In the face of this "end times" anxiety, some in the community had become "disorderly, doing no work at all, but rather busybodies." Paul's command is sharp and clear: "Do not be idle... anyone unwilling to work should not eat." His message is a powerful counter to apocalyptic panic. We are not to sit and wait; we are to work. We are to live our daily lives with purpose, discipline, and a quiet faith, and "not grow weary in doing what is right."

Finally, Psalm 98 gives us our emotional response. In the face of coming judgment, what do we do? We "sing to the Lord a new song." It is a song of joyful, triumphant praise. We sing because God is coming to judge the world "with righteousness and the peoples with equity." We do not fear this judgment; we welcome it, trusting that God's justice will finally set the world right.

A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides

Our music today provides the deep, pastoral comfort that the lessons challenge. It is the "healing in its wings" that Malachi promised, wrapping us in God's peace so we can face the world's chaos.

Our Opening Voluntary, the Prelude on "Rhosymedre" by Ralph Vaughan Williams, is a perfect example. "Rhosymedre" is a Welsh hymn tune of deep peace and gentleness. Before the stormy words of the lessons are even read, this music envelops us in a sound-world of profound love and pastoral care. It is God’s quiet "all is well" before we are told of the storm.

The Entrance Hymn, "All hail the power of Jesus’ Name!" (#450), is our defiant response to the "wars and insurrections." In a world where temples fall and nations rage, we state our ultimate allegiance. We "bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all!" It is a triumphant proclamation that our true King’s throne is unshakable.

The Sequence Hymn, "Thy strong word did cleave the darkness" (#381), is our prayer for guidance. If the world is dark, God's word is our light. "Lo, on the eternal Word, / We our souls are staying," we sing, finding our foundation in God's truth, not in stones that can be torn down.

The Anthem, "O How Amiable Are Thy Dwellings" by Ralph Vaughan Williams, is the musical and theological heart of our service. Its text, drawn from Psalm 84 and "O God, our help in ages past," is the direct answer to the Gospel. Where is our shelter? "My soul hath a desire... to enter into the courts of the Lord." The sparrow and swallow find their nest at God's altars. This, not the temple in Jerusalem, is our true refuge: "O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home."

The Communion Hymn, "Strengthen for service, Lord" (#312), is our response to 2 Thessalonians. We are not to be idle. We come to the rail, we receive the holy things, and we immediately pray for strength—not for our own comfort, but for service and work. It is the prayer that equips us to "not grow weary in doing what is right."

The Post-Communion Hymn, "Now thank we all our God" (#397), is the song of the faithful who have endured. Despite the world's chaos, our hearts are filled with gratitude for the God "who from our mother's arms / hath blessed us on our way."

Our Closing Voluntary, Healey Willan's Chorale and Fugue, sends us out not with a frivolous tune, but with strength and order. The noble Chorale is our faith, and the intricate Fugue is the divine, unshakeable logic of God's plan. It is a solid, confident, and powerful affirmation that in the midst of chaos, God's purpose remains firm.

A Closing Note on Our Journey

The world is, and always will be, a shaking and uncertain place. Our institutions will fail, our human efforts will falter, and our lives will be met with trials. The promise of Jesus is not that we will be spared from the storm, but that we will be sheltered in it.

Our worship is that shelter. It is the house of the sparrow, the altar of the swallow, our "eternal home." But it is not an escape. As our music reminds us, it is a place of profound strengthening. We come here to find peace so that we can go out with endurance. We come to be comforted so that we can do the hard work of love and justice in a world that has grown weary. By our endurance, by our work, and by our song, we will gain our souls.

A Prayer for the Week Ahead

Let us pray for the Church and for the world.

For the Church, that it may be a true and steadfast shelter for all who are tossed by the stormy blasts of this life,