Preached for the ordination of Andrew Taylor, Lawrencetown United Baptist Church, May 23, 2026

⁹ At that place [the mountain of Horeb] he [that is, Elijah] came to a cave and spent the night there. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” ¹⁰ He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts, for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” ¹¹ He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind, and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake, ¹² and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire, and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. ¹³ When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” ¹⁴ He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts, for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” ¹⁵ Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. ¹⁶ Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel, and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place.  (1 Kings 19:9-16, NRSV)

“Teaching about Christ begins in silence.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer told his students in 1933. Bonhoeffer, if you recall, was the German pastor and theologian who opposed the Nazis. This is a man of incredible courage and conviction, and he says, if you want to learn about Jesus, it begins in silence.

But what a weird thing to say! Maybe he had a particular unruly class, and he just wanted them all to be quiet. I often try to play the “quiet game” with my kids when I want them to settle down and listen. I’ve never had much success, however.  No, I don’t think that is what Bonhoeffer means.

There is something counterintuitive going on here: One would think that teaching involves action and obviously speaking. If you want to learn, you should start reading, studying, writing down thoughts and discussing them, maybe in a breakout room with other plucky seminary students—so get busy. But no. While all of those are important and profitable, Bonhoeffer says if you want to learn about Jesus, it must begin in silence.

Today, we are ordaining Andrew Taylor for pastoral ministry. It is such an honour to give the sermon for my friend Andrew. I’d say he is my student, and that is how I first met him at Acadia, but the truth is, in God’s kingdom and in our friendship, there are only disciples learning from each other.

Ordination is a recognition of a community of disciples of the calling God has on a person to be a preacher, a shepherd, a leader—you can say so many other things here: a companion, a nurturer, an advocate — of that community. How does he know this is what God wants for him? How does Lawrencetown United Baptist Church know this is what it wants to recognize? And more than that, where does a pastor draw his or her calling from? What confirms it and sustains it?

For those who know this passage, it takes place after a series of dramatic events in the life of the prophet Elijah.

Just before it, Elijah has a conflict with the prophets of the god Baal at Mount Carmel. Elijah confronts the king, Ahab, about his injustice and idolatry. Ahab has been killing the prophets of God, all the truth speakers and justice seekers. Elijah calls out this false god by challenging the 450 prophets of Baal, these yes men of tyranny, to a contest of sorts. Each chose a bull at Mount Carmel, and each was to pray to their god to see which god would honour the sacrifice and rain down fire from heaven. The god that did so would obviously be the true God. The other better close-up shop.

The prophets of Baal prayed and prophesied, yelled at the sky and even cut themselves trying to evoke their god, but nothing happened: a pathetic sight.

Then Elijah, so confident in the living God, tells his servants to drench his sacrifice with water three times over.

Elijah then turns and utters a simple prayer, and then, suddenly, the sacrifice erupted into flames from the sky.

You could not imagine a more decisive victory in the name of faith against delusion and oppression. Yet, it did not end up that way.

A humiliated Ahab turns to his queen, Jazabel, who then orders the execution of Elijah. Rather than believe and repent what they just saw, they turn to suppress the truth and get rid of anyone who contradicts their lies. Such are the patterns of those that prefer power to truth.

Elijah then has to run for his life, out into the wilderness, where he collapses from the elements. Elijah is defeated emotionally and physically. And he cries out, longing for death. Yet, it says an angel of the Lord brought food and water to him, and he musters enough strength to make it to a cave, a cave on the mountain of Horeb, the mountain on which Moses met God.  

He gets to the cave, but he is still wary. A cave is safer, but his heart is still broken. What he thought would be a decisive turning moment for his people made things worse. What would be a vindication of his work as a prophet had only made his life and message more precarious.

And so, there in that cave, he calls out to God. Perhaps you have experienced a similar moment, a moment where you are utterly exhausted and at the end of your rope. 

It is often in these moments that God finds us. And it says, there the word of God came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” The voice is not just asking why Elijah is in a cave, but something much deeper. Why are you here? What is your purpose? But Elijah laments: everything has gone wrong, and now he is the last one left. The situation is hopeless.

And God tells him something, “Go out and stand on the mountain.” Go and meet me where Moses met me. Stand on the same rocks, breathe the same air, feel the same sun, look out at the same horizon. Elijah goes out, probably expecting to see God like Moses did: in a pillar of fire.

And something spectacular does happen: First, a powerful wind came, so powerful it could shatter stone, but it says, God was not in the wind.

Then an earthquake rumbled, shaking the mountain, but God was not in the earthquake either.

Then a fire blazed, a fire not unlike the one that consumed the sacrifice just a few days ago—surely God is in the fire, just like in the time of Moses—but no, God was not in the fire.

Then it happened. God was there. Not in the power of wind or rumble or fire—not in the most powerful things Elijah knew, but in a whisper. Or more literally, in the sound of sheer silence.

No words are recorded. Just that Elijah heard God in pure stillness.

The Voice in the Silence

What was this? This moment is as mystical as it is mystifying. What happened here? How do you hear silence? Why would God not be in the powerful displays that preceded this? The Quaker mystic Thomas Kelly wrote about encountering God in the silence. He writes this,

Deep within us all there is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continually return. Eternity is at our hearts, pressing upon our time-torn lives, warming us with intimations of an astounding destiny, calling us home unto Itself. Yielding to these persuasions, gladly committing ourselves in body and soul, utterly and completely, to the Light Within, is the beginning of true life. It is a dynamic center, a creative Life that presses to birth within us. It is a Light Within that illumines the face of God and casts new shadows and new glories upon the human face. It is a seed stirring to life if we do not choke it. It is the Shekinah of the soul, the Presence in the midst.(Kelly, Testament of Devotion, 9-10)

Perhaps God is teaching Elijah where God is truly found and where strength truly comes from.

In the silence, Elijah’s soul was laid bare, and there was God’s presence in the midst. In the silence, you are left confronting your inner thoughts and memories, scrutinizing what gives you confidence and what brings you doubt. In the silence, if we learn to listen well, the lies we are told and the lies we tell ourselves, all our worldly claims to status and significance, circle, spin, and sputter until eventually they run out of steam. And when that happens, we are left, left in that thin space where the Spirit of God that speaks from on high and the Spirit of God that calls out from the depths of our souls—the Shekinah of the soul, as Kelly put it—speak together as one, although often without words.

There in the silence, Elijah encountered the one who is beyond all things but in all things.

Elijah encountered the one who is beyond all thought and action, all institutions and traditions, all authorities and powers, yet the one who is present, faithful, and true.

Elijah encountered the one whom Moses encountered, the “I am that I am,” the one who simply is, the one who is with us.

And because of this, Elijah also found himself.

In this moment, it seems, Elijah received an ordination of sorts, a re-confirmation of his calling.

It is there in the silence, in those moments unmediated by any earthly power or authority, when we stand before God and are answerable to Spirit alone, there, as we Baptists would say, in the liberty and responsibility of our souls, the liberty and responsibility that is ours and no one else’s. It is in this space that we find our true calling.

As Andrew knows, I must have sketched half a dozen sermon outlines, pondering over which scripture to speak to you on today. Yet, I felt drawn, a pull from deep within, to this word.

I was also drawn to this passage because of the person Andrew is. You are free to compare him to the prophet Elijah if you wish, but that is not strictly what I mean. I was drawn to this passage because I know Andrew’s convictions and calling, Andrew’s sense of Spirit. We have had so many good conversations over the nature of God and the Christian life, the meaning of the church, often on my back deck, but also over food, usually at the Noodle Guys.

What can I say? God fed the Israelites manna for their spiritual journey, and for others, it seems to be Asiago shells or mushroom ravioli.

Sometimes we have talked for hours, laughed and joked, other times we have sat in the silence and watched the stars come out.

And in all these moments, in various ways, I have gotten a sense of God’s presence: in our friendship, in Andrew’s life, in the moments of stillness.

It is in the moments of vulnerability and honesty before God, when we dare to have them, that we know who we are and what we are called for.

For many of us, while we were on different career paths, we heard God’s call and, in doing so, realized who we were meant to be. We felt called to proclaim God’s word, to steward a community, to care for the vulnerable, realizing that walking with God and walking alongside others in their walk with God is our life’s calling. 

The Vocation in the Silence

Andrew, as you step forward in ordination, as this community of disciples recognizes this in you, and you continue to shepherd this flock, remember those moments in the stillness. Remember the moments you spend with God where you first understood your calling. You will need to draw on them for strength and practice them continually, for there will be times of discouragement which we all face.

So, it was for Elijah. If you can believe it, Elijah, one of the greatest prophets of God, doubted his calling.

Elijah, the man who saw fire rain down from heaven on a waterlogged pyre, the man nourished by angels, a man who for all intents and purposes should have had an ironclad faith and invincible sense of vocation—this Elijah we find here in a cave, on the run, disheartened: wondering where has God’s kingdom gone, wondering where are all those who stand up for God’s truth and justice, wondering how can God be all powerful in the face of such rampant tyranny and murder, wondering if any of his work made a difference, wondering how can God’s ways prevail when he is the only one left? Perhaps in these dark days, we have wondered similar things.

Yet, there he encountered God. Sometimes we expect God to speak in dramatic ways, but God does not speak in a vision or even in words in that moment. More perplexing is that it comes after three amazing displays of power that almost certainly should be interpreted as evidence of God’s presence. After all, God did appear to Moses in a pillar of fire, to Jonathan in an earthquake, and to Job in a whirlwind.

What happened in this moment seems more subtle but more profound than any outward display of power, more than any spectacle, no matter how supernatural.

Perhaps God was correcting Elijah. Perhaps, as many of us assume, Elijah had come to believe that God works through power as humans understand power: through grand interventions, through kings and armies, through numerical growth, through money, status, and awards. Perhaps Elijah lost sight of the more radical way God works: through the small things, through seemingly insignificant acts of authenticity, not in the noise and spectacle but in the calmness and stillness.

Elijah’s soul encountered the sheer presence of God. Before Elijah went out to the mountain, he was questioning; he was discouraged; he felt alone and afraid; he wanted to give up. But in that moment, something happened. He sensed something more powerful than all earthly power. And yet, it made no noise, nor could it even be seen.  Something so easy to miss. He felt the sense of the divine. He knew the presence of God. And that was enough.

God was enough for him as God is enough for us. God is enough for every struggle and every need we could ever have.

When we behold the presence of God, we know what we have to do. We know who we are. We know our purpose and direction.

In God, we know we are enough.

It says after this, God instructed him and sent him on his way. God tells him to go and raise up the next prophets and the next kings that will overturn the tyranny and idolatry of the current regime. His work has not been in vain. The resistance has not been snuffed out. God’s kingdom had not been defeated or usurped. It is alive within us. There is hope. With God, there is always hope.

Brothers and sisters, may we never forget this, for when we forget his presence, we can lose sight of our purpose.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. writes of encountering this same presence of God in times of discouragement. In his autobiography, Stride Towards Freedom, he writes of his work in combatting the injustice and evil of his day—evils that are sadly still with us today—but one night he got a death threat on the phone. It shook him to the core. He could not sleep, and in the long hours of the night, he grew afraid. He went down to his kitchen. He recounts,

I was ready to give up. With my cup of coffee sitting untouched before me, I tried to think of a way to move out of the picture without appearing a coward. In this state of exhaustion, when my courage had all but gone, I decided to take my problem to God. With my head in my hands, I bowed over the kitchen table and prayed aloud. The words I spoke to God that midnight are still vivid in my memory. “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.”

He then writes,

At that moment, I experienced the presence of the Divine as I had never experienced God before. It seemed as though I could hear the quiet assurance of an inner voice saying: “Stand up for justice, stand up for truth; and God will be at your side forever.” Almost at once my fears began to go. My uncertainty disappeared. I was ready to face anything.”(King, Stride Toward Freedom, 134-135)

Sometimes I have noticed that the more meaningful the ministry, the more dogged the discouragement can be.  Opposition comes at the most pivotal points. The night, as they say, is darkest before the dawn.

In those moments, we must look to God. We must sit in the stillness of prayer and scripture. Look within to conscience and calling. Rest in the presence of our God, the great friend to humanity, the one who is perfect love and justice. The one who is our hope.

We can be tempted to measure our calling with earthly standards of success, but as the pastor who preached at my ordination, Tim Walker, said to me—and so, I pass this important advice on to you today—we are not called to success; our purpose is not to “grow the church,” we are not perpetuators of institutions, it is our job first and foremost to be faithful. We are not called to “success” but to faithfulness.

When we remember this, when we know and trust who God is, we know who we are and what we were meant for.

My charge for Andrew today is to hold tight to this presence.

Be who God has called you to be.

Be the one who you know before God you were meant to be.

Be the proclaimer of God’s word.

Be the shepherd of God’s flock.

Be the truth seeker, the justice advocator, the movement organizer, God has called you to be.

Know that your intellect, your emotions, your story, your character, your good humour—know that even the things you might not like about yourself, all are a part of who God is calling you to be.

You are ordained to the calling that is for you before God, God and no other, for the good work God had for you, you and no one else.

A Community Ready to Listen

Just know, Andrew—as I am sure you already know—that this hallowed calling, this sacred work, does not have to be done alone.

I remember the words of one Baptist leader, Kyle Childress (whom I had the pleasure of interviewing while writing my dissertation). He said that to believe the Baptist distinctive of soul liberty, but to do so in community, is to believe in the possibility—when community is done well—that there should be “no more lonely prophets.”

Of course, what he means by this is not that we wouldn’t go through times of discouragement in solitude. It means that if we hold that the Spirit of Christ as been poured out on all flesh, the presence of Christ is where two or three are gathered, that to be the church today, a community of souls responsible to God, covenanting together, discerning together, is to know that the work of pursuing God’s word and truth, spreading the gospel in word and deed, caring for others and nurturing the bonds of fellowship—this is not the task of one person.

This calling of listening and following God’s presence is not limited to the pastorate but is entrusted to the whole people of God.

Lawrencetown United Baptist Church, gathered disciples in the name of Jesus, we the people of God, ordain Andrew today, recognizing the Spirit’s empowering in his life, but this is not just Andrew’s ordination, but yours. Today, you also reaffirm your calling.

Will you be a people always committed to listening to that still voice of God?

Will you be a people committed to following the truth of Spirit?

Will you be a people committed to growing the love of God, pursuing the justice of God, sharing the joy of God and to do this together?

Brothers and sisters, may we commit and recommit ourselves to this sacred calling, now, today, tomorrow, and always, knowing that Christ promises that he will be with us, even unto the end of the age. Amen.