God Is Present in the Wilderness

This week we have crossed a threshold on our spiritual journey. We have completed our Season of Epiphany. It began with the Wise men coming to Bethlehem. The Season of Light has a way of letting us down easy after Christmas. But as we have found out—the journey is trying. We have witnessed the baptism of Jesus—and the voice from heaven affirming his identity. This is my son…. We saw Jesus in his hometown proclaiming the fulfillment of God’s Word. This did not set well with the home folks. We saw Jesus at the wedding in Cana turning water into wine—a symbol of what was to follow. Last week we witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus and again heard the voice of God. This is my son…. an essential detail to Luke’s story that focuses on the identity of Jesus.

We have moved from the Season of Lights into the Season of Lent and we find Jesus in the wilderness. One moment we are on the mountaintop with the disciples—and then we are thrust with Jesus into be bareness of the dessert.

Luke in his telling of the story—already reveals to us that the journey that Jesus is taking is not the track to earthly power or human adulation. Early in the gospel—we are preparing for the unexpected. Luke reminds us that this is God’s path. Today we find Jesus facing a great test.

If you have been watching the Olympics this week you have seen athletes from around the world who are tested under pressure. The test they face is not just the event itself but also the preparation—the willingness to make the sacrifices necessary to even compete. They give up a part of their lives for the goal of competing and any number of things along the way can deter them from that goal. The question is if they can persevere.

Testing is a common theme in the scriptures. Moses was tested first in his call and then in his perseverance for 40 years in the wilderness. The prophets were tested. Elijah went 40 days without food or water. ((1 Kings 19:8) The Israelites were tested and often failed on their journey.

Here at the beginning point of the journey, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness where he encounters the adversary. The adversary appears like a seductive friend. What he offers Jesus’ sounds both reasonable and inviting.

Luke T. Johnson comments, the three specific temptations Jesus faces have to do with “the seizure of palpable power” and “would suggest to the Hellenistic reader of the first century, the threefold categories of vice: love of pleasure, love of possessions, love of glory.” (The Gospel of Luke. Sacra Pagina Series, Vol. 3, p. 76).

What’s wrong with satisfying one’s hunger? Why not take up the mantle of earthly authority?
What could be wrong with showing one’s real power—the miraculous Jesus was given a world stage. Why beat around the bush. Show your cards. The temptations are real. Luke not only reveals Jesus’ identity as the Son; we see Jesus in his full humanity. This was a real test. The temptations were not staged only to reveal the hero of the story at the end.

It was as real as temptation is real in our lives. Who is there among us that thinks any of us is above the same temptations in our lives. Sadly, in our culture, people live vicariously by taking pleasure in others failures. The Tiger Woods story is only one story. Many who give ear takes a certain self-righteous satisfaction. For those of you who are golf fans—I was tempted this morning to title this sermon “The Desert Classic” in light of Tiger Wood’s confession and apology this week. The fall of Tiger Woods, sad as it is, is not just an individual story. It is a universal story. There is a litany of human failure  through history from King David to Tiger Woods….

We might think—I’d never do this or I’d never do that. We can get caught in our own spiritual pride.  C.S. Lewis in “The Screwtape Letters,” has a scene where the Senior Devil is instructing the Junior Devil about how to tempt a young Christian. He tells him to bring it to the young man’s attention that he is becoming very spiritual, and that is a very good thing. Make him proud of that.

More often, the subtlety of sin seeps slowly into our spiritual lives.

Barbara Brown Taylor gives a summary of how the church historically drifted from its moorings. Little by little, Christians became devoted to their comforts instead: the soft couch, the flannel sheets, the leg of lamb roasted with rosemary. These things made them feel safe and cared for — if not by God, then by themselves. They decided there was no contradiction between being comfortable and being Christian, and before long it was very hard to pick them out from the population at large. They no longer distinguished themselves by their bold love for one another. They did not get arrested for championing the poor. They blended in. They avoided extremes. They decided to be nice instead of holy, and God moaned out loud. (Christian Century, February 18, 1998, page 169)

Sometimes a wilderness experience is what can direct us back to a course from which we have drifted. We’ve all been in the wilderness…times when relationships seem to be falling apart or threatened, times of crises, times when our security has been pulled out from under us, times when our own failures have caused us or others pain. The good news is that God does not abandon us in the wilderness. The Spirit is present in the wilderness!

Lent is a time when we can all renew our covenant with God. We can ask ourselves the hard questions.

What are the things in our lives make us comfortable and cause us to avoid the discipline of struggle at any cost. What voices do we hear that often can drown out the voice of the Spirit?
What voids in our lives to we seek to fill up with the pleasures of life thinking that this one more thing will make me happy?

How can this Season of Lent be different this year?
Maybe it could be a small step like consciously giving something up. It might be giving up a single meal instead of a full fast—but nonetheless an act that intentionally focuses upon God. It might be giving up T.V. for a night if for no other reason than to be mindful of God’s presence. I knew a family once in one of my congregations who gave up television (with young children) for the entire Season of Lent. It is not so much what it is that we give up but rather the conscious effort to focus anew upon Jesus.

The Christian life is demanding. It is also undergirded with grace. We are not alone.

When God was speaking through Moses to his people calling them to renew their covenant these words were spoken: Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?’ No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. (Deut. 30:11-14)

“The word is near you,
on your lips and in your heart”

The good news is that Jesus’ temptation is a narrative of hope.

“For the desert is not God-forsaken nor does it belong to the devil. It is God’s home. The Holy Spirit is there, within us and beside us. And if we cannot feel that spirit inside of us or at our side, perhaps we can at least imagine Jesus there, not too far away, with enough in him to sustain us, enough to make us brave” (John Stendahl, New Proclamation 2001).

“The word is near you,
on your lips and in your heart.”

Trailblazer Winter Retreat

Six youth from Salem attended the Trailblazer winter retreat held February 5-7, 2010 at Pilgrim Pines.  It was an awesome weekend! The weekend centered around the theme called “The Flame” reflecting God who appeared before Moses in a burning bush.  God told Moses, “I am the Lord, the Lord of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob” and “I have heard the cry of Israel’s people and promise to deliver them from Egypt.”    Through guest speaker Paula Frost a message of “Stop, turn and go towards God” was emphasized.  Paula also got the kids to repeat, “Don’t put out the Spirits Fire!” She reminded the kids to spend time with God (Go to church) and with other Christians to strengthen your faith in God.  Several youth (including 3 of our boys) committed themselves to a life with God by placing a kindling on a ceremonial fire (unlit of course).

The highlights of the retreat were the excellent food, fun activities on the ice (Counselor bowling, broom hockey and snow gnomes).  The inside activities included several ice breakers and mixers (Card swap, beans and weenies, whip cream and vanilla “Vanilla” and Human Snowman).  The band from Pilgrim Covenant in Lunenberg made the weekend lively and spiritual (Great youth and adult combined band)!

Ice Cream Social

Held on Valentine’s day was well attended with 12 youth and 11 adults from Salem.  We had delicious sundays with lots of toppings.  It was held during our regular (Trailblazer/Jr. High) meeting time on Sunday’s from 3:00 – 4:30 .  We played sardines and fruit salad, which are becoming two of our youth’s favorite games.

Adults $8.00 Children 5-12 $4.00
Age 4 and under Free

Reservations required
Call Al Carlson- 508-852-8661
Dwight Goodale- 508-852-2420

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’ Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

Letting Go of Certainty, letting Down Our Net

After our worship hour today, members of Salem will gather for the semi-annual meeting where we review the year past. I don’t know about you but I have very mixed feelings about annual meetings. I’ll let you in on a little trade secret; that is true of my colleagues as well. We gather for meetings—hear reports for the year, whether attendance has gone up or if it has slipped a bit, has the recession hit our budget even more—how large a deficit are we facing again—Then we kick into problem solving mode. Who’s going to fix it? Whose fault is it? So much of our conversation in business meetings centers around what we see and what we feel. We want certainty.

Imagine a business meeting—where we all sit around and share how God has moved in our lives this past year. What are our growing edges? Where have we fallen down? What have we neglected? What have we learned?

Sometimes I think we’d be better served at our business meetings if we opened scriptures and did a spot check.

Let’s see—Jesus says we are to feed the poor. How are we doing at that?

Jesus said: when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. How are we doing with that?

Paul says: Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. How are we measuring up to that?

Jesus said: ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. How do our conversations reflect that?

What is it that we expect of God in our lives and in our shared life as a faith community?

In our prophetic text this morning, Isaiah shows up in the temple to worship—perhaps not expecting much. Suddenly he is hit upside the head with a vision of God’s holiness and his spirit is so moved that all he can utter is ‘Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!’

Annie Dillard offers some words of wisdom: When we go to church we should wear crash helmets, receive life preservers and be lashed to the pews in case God shows up.

All too often we act as if God will not show up and its all up to us. We take God out of the equation. We act like the Israelites in the wilderness who threw up their hands and wallowed in their helplessness. And then we wonder why the waters are rough and our nets are empty.

We in the church are good at living as if we expect nothing….chances are if we expect nothing we will get nothing.

When Jesus confronted Peter in our gospel text this morning, Peter was expecting nothing.

Jesus was using his boat as a platform because he needed space from the crowd. When he was done preaching, he said to Peter: ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’ Peter said to Jesus in so many words: Master, just a minute here, my crew and me have been out all night and we didn’t catch anything. If there were fish to be caught we would know that. Take it from me—they’re not to be found. Peter was certain of that.

Jesus: ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

Peter: If you say so, I will let down the nets.

When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken;

Peter let go of his certainty—and let down his net. And the Lord provided.

Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

There was a transformation that took place in this story—not only with Peter but his colleagues as well. Peter fell to his knees (like Isaiah) and said: Lord, I am a sinful man! This was a turning point for Peter. He was humbled before God. He acknowledged his humility.

There is a point in our spiritual lives (and collectively as a church) when we must own up to the inabilities of our own efforts. We’ve done the best we can—now it has to be up to God. Peter and his colleagues were professionals. But their effort wasn’t working. And in the small crack of vulnerability—Jesus entered and said—why don’t you try it my way–let me help. It’s now about your fishing prowess. It’s not about your churchly sensibilities—it is about what I can do if you let me.

Self-examination is an essential part of our spiritual journey. We need to personalize our questions. Instead of asking—how can we generate more revenue—we individually need to ask—what am I capable and willing to do for the sake of Christ?

How often do we approach our challenges in church by thinking in terms of how God can and wants to transform us as individuals and make us a different people?

The frightening part of such thinking is that it confronts our own fear that God may be asking us to change. Change our thinking, change our attitude, change our financial priorities, transform our low expectations.

So often we want God to change our circumstances or to change other people—at least that’s how our prayers are offered, but what about us? Do we even think about the possibility that God may need to change us? If our attitudes were worn like a garment would we be content to let others see us or do we need a new wardrobe that only God can provide?

Peter was thinking human thoughts. We haven’t caught any fish; therefore, we are not going to catch any fish. If Peter had his way he would have put into shore and put up for the evening. Jesus had so much more in store for Peter. But first, he had to put out into deep waters.

It’s the deep water that makes us nervous. On a figurative level if you are in a boat you are dependent upon the structure of the boat, you are dependent upon the actions of others with you, you are dependent upon all safety procedures just in case. If we stay in shallow waters—we have nothing to worry about. The shallow waters are nice. The water is warmer. The surf is not so wild. We are close to the safety of shore. Anybody can handle that. You do not even have to know how to swim in shallow water. It’s so much easier and less threatening to play it safe.

On a spiritual level, to put out into deep water means that we have to depend solely upon God’s grace and God’s abundance. To put out into deepwater means our lives must continually transformed. But there’s the catch. We have to be willing to allow God to change us.

Jesus said to Peter: From now on, Peter, you will catch people. If we are faithful and let go of certainty and let down our nets—God will provide. Churches are facing a lot of uncertainty these days. It is true of us. Lives that reflect Christ are what will “catch” other people.

In times of uncertainty God asks us to let down our nets and trust that he will provide—to be less dependent upon ourselves and more dependent upon God.

Sometimes we are so uncertain of our own faith that we try to cover it for fear that someone else might notice it. When was the last time we even considered inviting someone to church with us? How will others see God’s grace in us if we are afraid of it ourselves? God gives to us as a church community all we need to fulfill his call. We need to let go of our certainty and let down our nets in faith.

If there is anything that reminds us of our dependence upon God—it is the Table of our Lord and the sacrament we partake in. It is also the sacrament that reminds of the grace of Christ and his call upon our lives. We receive anew this day—grace upon grace. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah’—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Confronting God’s Glory

Last Spring when I was on sabbatical, in early May I was driving from San Diego to the Midwest and stopped for two days to camp in Zion National Park. (I have talked with some of you who have visited that beautiful park.) I was in my element climbing the rocky paths and taking photos—surrounded by grandeur and beauty in every direction. There was a waterfall that projected over the path that I was walking on and the water fell on this red rock that was laden with green algae. The wetness brought out the color of the rock and the algae provided a beautiful contrast of green with red so I took several pictures. When I was doing this something was happening which my eye could not see until the picture was developed. The sunlight directly above was filtered by the water, which in turn was dispersed as through a prism into the colors of the optical spectrum. When the picture was developed there was this rainbow of color on the rock. What my eye saw as red and green, now revealed yellow and orange and blue and purple. My eye could not see what was, in fact captured by the lens.

Luke gives to us today in our gospel lesson, a snapshot that captures the mystical story of the Transfiguration with layers of meaning beyond the picture itself. It one of those scenes that words alone cannot describe.

There are experiences in our lives that go beyond any inadequate description we might attempt to explain. A soldier goes off to war and witnesses atrocities one can never prepare for. It is something that is felt to the core of one’s being. But it is not something that anyone could possibly understand if they were not present. Thus it is not uncommon, the returning veterans from war often do not talk about their experience.

We al have had experiences that go deeper than any words can express.

How do you describe falling in love? How do you describe the birth of a child? How do you describe the death of a spouse? We experience moments in all of our lives that we cannot fully comprehend, at least in the moment, if ever. Sometimes experiences are layered with meaning that takes a lifetime to unfold. Sometimes there are things happening in our lives that we do not even see. How do you explain spiritual growth, for example. An experience may change us forever, but often it is the subtle things that take place in our lives, things we do not notice but nonetheless affect us in profound ways over time.

For the three disciples, Peter, James and John, the Transfiguration of Jesus was one of those unexplainable times when the world falls silent and the wonder of the moment eclipses everything else. How do you even begin to explain such a moment to anyone who was not present? Luke does his best to describe it second hand. But for the disciples who were there, it was indelibly printed upon their lives. The appearance of Jesus’ face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. They could hear the conversation. They saw Jesus and Moses and Elijah before their very eyes.

We are fortunate to have even this limited picture of the Transfiguration. All three of the gospel accounts give to us a picture of this event—all three are preceded by Jesus’ prediction of his death and resurrection. They somehow present this story to give perspective of what will be the ultimate reality of Jesus’ suffering and glorious resurrection.

But Luke alone places this event in the context of prayer. Jesus took his disciples aside to a mountain place to pray. While he is praying Luke tells us a transformation took place. The appearance of Jesus’ face changed and his clothes appeared as dazzling white. Before him were Moses and Elijah, the great lawgiver and the great prophet. It was as if God was bringing together the characters of this great drama to give common witness to God’s glory.

Peter and his friends were fighting sleep—they almost missed it but somehow stayed awake. And the glory of the Lord was revealed before their very eyes. Peter couldn’t explain it but in his feeble attempt to hold on to the moment blurted out: ‘Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah’ I can almost see Luke shaking his head when he writes, “Peter did not know what he said.” No sooner were those words out of Peter’s mouth when a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone.

It was a moment so glorious that they were terrified.

There are certain moments in our spiritual lives that defy description. They are so deep, they are felt so intensely that words can never fully translate to another what it was like. This was one of those experiences for the three disciples.

Up to this point, the disciples were having a difficult stretch. They were trying to put together as best they could who Jesus was. Just prior to Luke’s record of the Transfiguration, Jesus took them aside to a quiet place, but the crowds found them. Jesus taught them and healed many. As the day was getting late, the disciples came to Jesus and said—send the crowds away to find food. And we know what happened to the thousands of hungry souls who were feeding on Jesus’ words. Jesus fed them all from the loaves and fishes of a little boy. And the disciples were left speechless.

During this stretch of time Luke records that Peter confessed when asked, that Jesus was the Messiah. And Jesus said to him and his peers—tell no one about this, and then Jesus began to talk about his own death and resurrection.

We find them on this roller coaster journey where they were up one minute and down the next. Sometimes that may seem like a fair description our own spiritual journey. We have moments of insight and clarity—and then we confront the hard realities of the world.

You may recall that after the story of the Transfiguration, after this glorious moment, Luke records the disciples going down the mountain with Jesus and confronted the man whose son was possessed by a demon. And the roller coaster journey to Jerusalem continued.

In her sermon The Role of Religion in Today’s Society, Joan Chittister identifies in this story “a struggle between piety and real Christianity, a struggle between religion for real and religion for show.” Chittister is a Roman Catholic nun was the guest lecturer  of the Mass. Bible Society in Shrewsbury a few years back.  She is a person in the forefront for progressive change in her own faith tradition, and very active for social justice issues. For her faith is not a private possession but a public expression.

“Real religion is about healing hurts, speaking for and being with the poor, the helpless, the voiceless and the forgotten who are at the silent bottom of every pinnacle, every hierarchy, every system in both state and church.”

The Christian life is about living in the trenches, the places and times when we encounter Christ in the struggle and suffering of our world. The mountain top experiences the experiences of our daily lives are all part of the same journey. Christ is not only present on the mountaintop; he is present in the valley of despair.

There is glory beyond the mountaintops on our journey. If we have seen Jesus—others will know it. The light of Christ reflects in each of our lives.

This Sunday is one of transition. We now move from Epiphany—the Season of God’s revelation of himself in Jesus-and we begin our journey to Jerusalem and the cross. Jesus meets us on this journey—in the ordinary routine of our daily lives, in the joys and the sorrows, in our fears and in our hopes. Christ’s glory is revealed in both the ups and downs of our lives. Sometimes it is enough for us to simply say with Peter, Lord! It’s good to be here!
It is Peter himself who reminds us:

…you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.  (1Pt. 2:9)

It is a good place to be. Amen.

History has a way of capturing the life of public figures that, once presented, is indelibly printed in our collective conscience, names like Washington, Churchill, or Nixon. We see in our mind’s eye, figures of great prominence whose iconic images have ready recognition.

The prophet Jeremiah in many ways is such a figure. Prophets were often not “painted” in the best of light. They appear as “off the wall” characters, rough and abrasive, often tragic. Jeremiah is stereotyped in traditional prophetic fashion. Here was a prophet who from the outset, did not see himself worthy of God’s call, who attempted to back away, and who much later after fulfilling his prophetic calling, mourned the very day he was born. He appears as anything but an uplifting character. He is even branded in our English language by the word “jeremiad” referring to a long, mournful complaint or lamentation; a list of woes.

Jeremiah lived in day when, as the scriptures revealed, everyone did what seemed right in their own eyes. As a prophet with a divine mission, he had pleaded to the point of reprimand, making a spectacle of himself but to no avail. He along with his people witnessed what he had warned about—the fall of Jerusalem.

Imagine, watching the destruction of everything you had known.  Jerusalem and the temple burned to ruins. If his ultimate goal as a prophet was to convince his people to turn from their ways, he had failed. Even if it was not his fault, he carried the weight of his people and their lot.

The story of Jeremiah’s life is captured in Rembrandt’s classic 1630 oil painting. With Rembrandt’s father serving as a model of the prophet, Jeremiah is presented as a man with the angst of rejection and disappointment—one who was given the unenviable task of warning a rebellious people to turn back to God, only to see his words and life work rejected. He witnessed the fall of Jerusalem and subsequent disappointment of his life’s work. In the portrait, his head rests on one hand. A few pieces of gold and silver vessels are at his side, seemingly symbolizing a remnant from the temple that is burning in the darkened background. Jeremiah is not looking at the city in flames but downward. He does not have to see what he warned would happen if his words were not heeded.

But Rembrandt has this ingenious way of playing with light and dark. Jeremiah’s figure is outlined by light that also brightly reflects upon the face of this rejected man. It would appear as a fulfillment of God’s promise to Jeremiah in his youth when he promised: Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you…

Even in Jeremiah’s rejection, Rembrandt captures the faithful presence of God.

Even though the central character in the drama is the prophet, it is really a story of the human condition and God’s call to all of us as his children. Jeremiah’s lament captures the pain of our human experience, the broken relationships, the angst of parents over their children and decisions gone bad, hopes dashed in a moment in time. We have seen such angst in the pictures of the Haitian people, fathers and mothers looking for children, children who have been orphaned, a spouse digging in desperate hope for a wife or husband. We identify with the angst of Jeremiah, of a life lived but upon looking back, wonders if it was worth it.

In Jeremiah’s despair, however, the prophet holds to his tattered faith.

We affirm in his story a central truth of the scriptures: God never withdraws his call from us nor does God ever withdraw the promise of his presence.

Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you…

Just as an artist captures human emotion and interprets by color and light and shadows—our lives, like a canvas, capture a reflection of God. Who we are, what we do, how we love, how we forgive, how we persevere through disappointment and rejection and grief—all of these reflect the compassion of a loving and merciful God who weeps with us but never abandons us. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you…

In George Bernanos’s novel, Diary of a Country Priest, the young priest keeps a diary to unburden himself to God, to cultivate a sense of brutal honesty with himself, and to record “the simple trivial secrets of a very ordinary kind of life.” He describes his rural parish as bored and boring, at times petty, and often indifferent. He loves his people deeply, prays for them, and visits every home at least once every three months. But like Jeremiah, Moses, and Isaiah, his candor and introspection lead to deep disillusionment. He knows that he is physically clumsy and socially awkward. He ponders the absurdity of prayer. He agonizes over his loneliness and sense of isolation. When he shares the gospel he sometimes feels like he is merely play-acting and parroting clichés. He likens his restlessness to “a hornet in a bottle.” His subsistence diet and inadequate salary aggravate a chronic sickness that causes him to loathe his body. He admits that he himself is responsible for some of his bitter disappointments. Reflecting upon his “wretched weakness,” he struggles with a deep sense of total failure, that “my best is nothing.” From a merely human perspective the priest is not wrong to draw this conclusion. And so he frets about his call: “Am I where our Lord would have me? Twenty times a day I ask this question.”

The priest’s elders gave him wise advice about persevering amidst questions about his call. “Keep saying your lessons. Go on with your work. Keep at the little daily things that need doing, till the rest comes. Concentrate. Think of a lad at his homework, trying so hard and his tongue sticking out. That’s how our Lord would have us be when he gives us up to our own strength. Little things—they don’t look like much, yet they bring peace. Like wild flowers which seem to have no scent, till you get a field full of ‘em.” (http://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20070122JJ.shtml)

The apostle Paul refers to “the fragrance that comes (from) knowing (God). (2 Corinthians 2.14)

We reflect God’s faithfulness, even in the simplest of things.

God’s call is upon each of our lives—Listen to that call again as it came to Jeremiah.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

and before you were born I consecrated you;

I appointed you a prophet to the nations.’

Think about that call that we all share. No matter where we are in our lives, young or old, no matter our disappointments, no matter the concerns we carry for the moment, no matter how inadequate we may feel—God’s hand is upon us.

“…thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing him.”

-Rev. Fryholm

When we read the Scripture lessons every Sunday morning in worship, we do so in stride. In fact, that could often describe our approach to worship in general. In the words of Annie Dillard, words we use in worship are “things we have learned we can say to God without being killed.”
We often have a very lackadaisical attitude when the scriptures are read. We respect them and expect them to be read in worship. Perhaps we are so familiar with them we do not anticipate hearing anything new. We read the gospel lesson and conclude with the words: THIS IS THE WORD OF THE LORD. We say it without missing a beat. But what impact does this Word of the Lord have upon our lives?

Contrast what is often our approach, with our text from Nehemiah. The people of God had returned from exile. Jerusalem was in ruin and the walls were leveled. (Picture the scenes we’ve seen in Haiti this past week). Nehemiah drew his people together and against great odds rebuilt the wall. When it was completed they asked Ezra the priest and scribe to bring forth the law of Moses, the Word of the Lord and to read it in the public square. When he opened the scriptures all the assembly stood up to listen. They were almost 50,000 in number who had gathered. Ezra read from early morning to midday, the congregation standing all the while. And all the people wept when they heard the words of the law of God. They were moved to the very core of their being.

Let’s be honest. For the most part we do not like to be disturbed. That’s true on several levels but I suspect it is also true in worship. We want to hear confirmation that we are doing well. We prefer affirmation that confirms our lifestyles are in synch with God—to hear that we are doing all the right things. But if you have lost everything you have known, as was the case with the Israelite people, you hear things in a different way. The Word of the Lord fell on their ears like rain on parched soil.

Our gospel text presents a parallel scene of a public reading of scripture. This time it was Jesus reading in the temple.

When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him.

Here was Jesus, the hometown boy, making everyone proud. Then it happened.

Then he began to say to them, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

You can almost hear them talking to each other. What did he say? Did I hear him correctly?
Did he say “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing?”

It began to settle in on some of them the impact of what he had said: He was proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor. He was talking about the ancient tradition of the Year of Jublilee. According to the Law, at the end of seven sabbatical cycles, slaves and prisoners were to be freed, debts were forgiven, land under lease was returned to the original owners and the land itself was to remain fallow, unused. It was a year of rejoicing—Jubilee. Those who heard Jesus knew what he was talking about. According to the law every 50th year was to be a time of forgiveness. Even though this was a part of Jewish law—it does not appear to have been in practice.

Suddenly Jesus says: This is the year of the Lord’s favor. Today these words have been fulfilled in your hearing. They were disrupted by the Word of the Lord.
I am reminded of the words of the author of Hebrews: Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.

God’s Word has the ability to cut through the exterior of our lives and penetrate our flesh. The Word becomes flesh, not only in Jesus, but by the grace of God, in our lives.

Walter Brueggemann writes about “doing the text.” We read the text and allow the Spirit to work.

Note in both of our texts that the emphasis is not on the personal good but the common good. The good news is collective in nature. The temptation is to so personalize the gospel that we live as islands unto ourselves. We do not have that luxury as Christians. The apostle Paul grasped this when he used the metaphor of a body as reflective of our lives as believers. We are members of one another. We are all a part of the same body. What affects you affects me. What one person does has implications for all of us. We are called to work for the common good of the body—looking not only for our own well-being but that of each other.

Malcom Muggeridge: a British journalist, author, and satirist, became a Christian convert late in life, very much influenced by Mother Teresa. In his book Something Beautiful for God, he recalls how one day he went into the chapel where Mother Teresa and her sisters were praying. He was amazed to hear the detailed nature of the their prayers. They were requesting from God the tiniest things needed in their work among the people of the streets. At first, he was offended, but then he said, “Those of us who cannot participate are not so much more sophisticated as less gifted with faith. If God cares to array the lilies of the field so splendidly, then assuredly Mother Teresa is right in believing He cares about her and the sisters’ tiniest necessities.” (Alan Walker, Jesus the Liberator [Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1973], p.98)

How is the Word of the Lord being fulfilled in your life? What does it mean for you that Jesus says I come:

to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

We are the ones who can fulfill Jesus’ words and give good news to the poor with our generosity and compassion. We are the ones who can fulfill Jesus’ promise, witnessing the release of captives by our forgiveness of one another.  We are the ones who by God’s grace can let go of the pain of the past and be freed in spirit for a new day.

How are we listening for God’s word?
When we come gather for worship, among other things, we expect to hear a sermon. When you think about it, a sermon is very limited. A sermon can be inspirational, it can draw us away from the cares of the world for a few minutes, it can lift one’s spirit. But it is simply that, a sermon, a spoken word in a moment in time—easily forgotten in a few hours. A sermon can be affirming or you can take issue with it or ignore it. But when a word comes from the Lord, it can crack the hard exterior of our ordered lives and affect transformational change.

We all share a common confession. We want to know that God is working in the world—yet at the same time, we keep a certain distance from it so as not to disturb our safe existence. We are then left wondering why it seems that we do not perceive God’s presence in our lives.

There is a poignant line in scripture when we are introduced to the boy Samuel.
1 Samuel 3.1    Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.

When Ezra read the Word of the Lord to the people, it was a people for whom the Word of the Lord had been absent for a long time.

When was the last time you sensed a Word from the Lord in your life—when you were convicted, when you were given a sense of peace about something deeply troubling you?
Indeed, the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. (4:12)
We need not fear it. We need to listen for it and welcome it.
‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

Amen.

-Rev. Frykholm