What happens when you discover that God is not entirely who you thought God was? What happens when you discover that your familiar thoughts and images and expectations about God are, not exactly wrong, but aren't enough to reflect the deeper reality of who God truly is? And what happens when discovering something new about God makes you discover something new about yourself?

That's what happens to Elijah in our First Testament reading today. Elijah is on the run from Queen Jezebel's soldiers, and he's hiding out in a cave on Mount Horeb, and God appears to him. God sends a rushing wind, and an earthquake, and fire before Elijah--but God is not in any of those demonstrations of power. It is only in the stillness that follows that Elijah finally hears God's voice.

The story, of course, is very familiar to us--perhaps so familiar that we can fail to recognize how difficult this experience was for Elijah. You see, the three things that God is not in--wind and earthquake and fire--were all traditional symbols of God's presence and power. Genesis says that God's Spirit moved like a mighty wind over the face of the deep in the beginning of Creation, and Psalm 135 says that God brings the winds out of God's own storehouse: wind is a sign of the presence of God. Psalm 104 says that God "looks at the earth and it trembles; God touches the mountains and they smoke": earthquake is a sign of the presence of God. And fire, of course, is a sign of God from way back: God appears to Moses in a bush that is flaming with fire but is not burned up; God leads the Israelites out of Egypt, going before them in a pillar of fire; Psalm 18 says that when God became angry, "Smoke rose from his nostrils and a consuming fire out of his mouth; hot burning coals blazed forth from him." Fire imagery especially was traditionally connected with the presence and the power of God.

But fire imagery is also connected to Elijah. For Elijah in particular, fire was a mark of God's presence and power with him. There are stories about Elijah and fire all through the Elijah cycle. In one story, Elijah calls down God's fire from heaven to consume the sacrifice he has offered--and in the process consumes the prophets of Baal as well, which is why Jezebel is after him now. And later, at the end of Elijah's life, in a story we'll read in church next week, Elijah is taken up into heaven in a whirlwind composed of horses and chariots of fire. Fire is specifically connected with Elijah as a sign of God's presence and God's power in him.

So imagine how it must have felt to Elijah on Mount Horeb to see a fire from God go before him, and to realize that fire was not a sign of the presence of God. Imagine how it must have felt to Elijah to realize that fire was not a sign of his own power to overcome God's enemies and to work God's works. If even fire wasn't God, then it must have been for Elijah as if there were absolutely nothing left, it was all gone, everything was empty and void.

And then, out of that empty void, God spoke. In that still, small voice that was anything but the voice of power Elijah had listened for, God spoke. And when God spoke, Elijah discovered that God was more than he had thought, that God's presence and God's power and God's justice and God's creativity could work in the world in many more ways than Elijah had previously suspected. And when Elijah discovered that about God, Elijah discovered something about himself as well: that he, Elijah, was more than he'd thought, that he could work God's works and carry forth into the world God's presence and God's power and God's justice and God's creativity in many more ways than he had suspected. Elijah was now to no longer be just the solitary, fiery prophet, standing on his own saying "I alone am left"; but Elijah was called to gather others--Hazael and Jehu and Elisha and seven thousand faithful Israelites who had not bowed down to Baal--Elijah was called to gather others, and to find God's power working through them together in ways Elijah had never before expected.

What happens when you discover that God is more than you had thought? And what happens when discovering something more about God makes you discover something more about yourself? New possibilities for ministry and mission happen, new energy to follow God's call is released--if you can be open to receive it.

That theme is reflected in our other scripture readings today, too. In the Gospel story, the man who was possessed by the demon Legion discovers something new about God: that God is not just the Most High, the King of the Heavens, who can command and torment the spirits--but God is also God-with-us, God in Jesus, God come to help and heal human life. Did you notice that little word change at the very end of the reading?--Jesus tells the man to go tell everyone how much God has done for him, and so the man goes and tells everyone how much Jesus has done for him. This Gerasene, this Gentile, this outsider to the Covenant, has come to recognize that Jesus is God. That's more than any of Jesus' disciples have yet discovered! And when this man discovers something about God--that God can come close to him in human life--he discovers something about himself as well: that he has good news to tell, good news about healing and restoration, and that he is sent by Jesus to go tell his good news to everyone he can. The man in the story discovers something more about God, and so discovers something more about himself as well.

And in the Epistle, Paul urges the Christians in Galatia to discover something more about God: that God has adopted them as God's own children, as offspring of Abraham and heirs of the promise, and that God calls them now to be mature heirs, not needing a disciplinarian to look after them, but able to exercise freedom and responsibility in Christ, because in their baptism they have been clothed with Christ, they have put on Christlikeness, and therefore they are empowered to do Christly things in the world. And, Paul says, if they will discover this about God, they will discover something about themselves: that in this Christlikeness they can find a new base of identity, a new sense of who they are and what they're all about. They'll discover that the things that used to mark them out and set them apart--being Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female--those things don't matter in the same way they used to. They're not gone, they're not erased, they're not unimportant, they're still part of their lives; but being Jew or Greek or slave or free or male or female is taken up into a larger reality in Christ, those identifying marks are redirected to a new purpose, they become complementary strengths, interlocking gifts, so that the whole body of Christ may be fuller and richer and stronger to work Christ's mission in the world. Paul urges the Christians in Galatia to discover something more about God in Christ, and so to discover something more about themselves as well.

What happens when you discover that God is more than you had thought? And what happens when discovering something more about God makes you discover something more about yourself? New possibilities for ministry and mission happen, new energy to follow God's call is released--if you can be open to receive it.

And that's the message of these scriptures for us today, too: that our life in God, our life in Christ, our life in the Spirit, our life of baptismal ministry--our life is a constant invitation to be discovering that God is more than we'd thought God is, and that we, in God, are more than we'd thought of ourselves.

We can discover, like Elijah, that God comes to us not only in moments of strength, not only in demonstrations of power, but God comes to us in our weakness, when we're feeling lost, when everything seems empty. God comes to us when we're waiting for surgery, or when the diagnosis is not good, or when a relationship is breaking. God comes to us as a congregation when we're worried about increasing the budget, or anxious about bringing in new members, or afraid that our Episcopal Church and our Anglican Communion seem to be going to pieces--or at least the press portrays us that way--and we don't know what to do about it. We can discover that God comes to us in our emptiness--and when we discover that about God, we can discover something about ourselves: that we are called to gather together, not to deal with our weaknesses by ourselves, but to be in relationship, so that God can work through us together in ways we'd never guessed alone.

We can discover, like the man of the Gerasenes, that God is not just the Most High above us, but that God is with us here, that God in Jesus joins us, and works with us for healing and wholeness and well-being for us all. And when we discover that about God, we discover something about ourselves: that we have good news to share, that we have good news about hurts that are healed, and strained relationships that are reconciled, and fear and anxiety and worry that are engaged with unexpected strength and with surprising courage. We have good news at St George's about ministry efforts and mission outreach--things we do both collectively as a congregation and individually as disciples--ministry and mission that touch people far beyond our own congregation and reveal God's justice and God's peace in the world. We have good news here, and, like the man in the story, there is no reason for us not to tell everyone we can how much Jesus has done for us.

We can discover, like the Christians in Galatia, that God clothes us with Christlikeness, that God empowers and inspires us to do Christly things, and that God calls us to freedom and responsibility in acting for Christ. And when we discover that about God, we discover something about ourselves: that the things that make us who we are, the unique qualities that give us our individual identities, our distinguishing marks of race and class and gender and orientation and schooling and politics and family and memory and experience--all those things that add up to make us just who we are and nobody else--we can discover that those are gifts--they're not problems to be solved, they're not issues to be argued about, they're not marks to separate us, but they can become complementary strengths, interlocking gifts, to strengthen the whole body of Christ and make us more together than any of us would be on our own. Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, writes that "a well-functioning Christian community is going to be one in which everyone is working steadily to release the gifts of others." Imagine if we at St George's discovered ourselves to be that kind of community, where each of us knows we are gifted, and each of us celebrates and raises up and relies upon the gifts of everyone else. Imagine what we could discover then.

What happens when you discover that God is more than you had thought? And what happens when discovering something more about God makes you discover something more about yourself? New possibilities for ministry and mission happen, new energy to follow God's call is released--if we can be open to receive it.

Let us pray that we will be open to receive this discovery today, and let us pray that we will be prepared to discover even more in every day to come. Amen.