Road Trip – Salvaged Faith

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

In the middle of December, Brandon and I were able to get away for an incredible six-day, seven-state, three-national park road trip.

Over the prairies…

through the mountains…

across the desert…

through Arches…

our target was the Grand Canyon.

I had never been before and it had probably been 25 years since Brandon had gone himself, and I have to say that ever since we took our Summer Road Trip through scripture last year here at Immanuel, it has been at the top of my list for sights I wanted to see.

I felt like it was calling me.

I felt this urge to stand at the edge and just soak in the vastness, the majesty, the wonder of this amazing feature of God’s creation.

In light of everything happening in the world, I thought it might provide some perspective.

So, in the fall of 2020, Brandon and I started talking about this trip.

We began to carve out time in our schedules and initially decided that we wanted to watch the sunrise at the Grand Canyon for our anniversary in August of 2021.

Routes were plotted, reservations were made, time was taken off from work…

And eight days before our trip, we hit a bump in the road.

Brandon fell and cut open his chin, but we had a few concerns about the cause of the fall and doctor’s appointments to schedule.

It didn’t seem like the right time to be away from our medical resources.

But that urge to go… it was still there.

And so once we figured out that all was well, we began to plan again.

We discovered a small window of time and started to retrace the path we wanted to take.

Only there was one major difference.

It was winter and we had no idea what to expect for weather.

So our back-up plans had back-up plans and we only planned for the first half of our trip – unsure of how we might get home.

“The Wise Men’s Dream” by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

Now, the Grand Canyon isn’t a miraculous star in the heavens… but perhaps now, more than before, I can understand why the magi had that yearning deep within to set off for unknown lands in search of wonder and majesty.

In her reflection on this piece, Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman writes:

“The Wise Men followed the direction of the shimmering, dotted lights of the night sky, and receive instruction in the subconscious world of sleep. They are ready and willing to discern God’s will in the outward, tangible signs of Creation… God is in it all, and they are paying attention…”

It pulled them over plains and mountains and deserts.

And while they knew what they were seeking, a king who had been born, they also really had no clue what to expect.

They had never traveled that way before.

And just as I sat staring out the window at the ever-changing landscape, I imagine on the backs of their camels or donkeys or whatever beasts they rode, they soaked it all in as well.

I can imagine the obstacles they faced and had to overcome – rivers to cross, mountain passes to navigate, robbers on the road, long stretches with no cities or villages to replenish supplies.

I can also imagine that at every place they stopped and every person they met, they shared aloud their anticipation for where they were going.

I mean, that’s what I did. Every time someone asked along our journey where we were headed, I practically burst forth – To the GRAND CANYON!

Surely, to go and see a king was just as exciting.

And they did it!

They made it to Jerusalem, just six miles away from where Jesus had been born, and knocked on the door of the palace…

King Herod had been appointed from among his fellow Jewish leaders because he was willing to put the needs of his people second and the will of the Romans first.

Through maneuvering, money, scheming, treachery, he had climbed as high as he could on the political ladder. He banished his first wife and child in order to marry the granddaughter of an elite in Rome. And then grew jealous of his second wife and executed her for adultery… eventually marrying five different times. He killed his brother-in-law on charges of conspiracy and some of his own sons because he thought they would usurp his seat of power.

When the magi arrive in Jerusalem, instead of bowing down before King Herod and honoring all of the power and authority he had grabbed for himself.. they want to worship someone else.

You see, this season invites us to honor what God is doing… not the powers of this world.

To honor love and not fear.

To honor mercy and not judgment.

To let go of our power and to offer ourselves, rather than taking what we think belongs to us.

But the powers of this world will try to confuse and misdirect and lead us any direction but God.

Notice again in this painting… but this time look to the background…

Pittman surrounds the dream of the wise men with “hands pointing in every direction except for the direction of God’s leading.”

What amazes me is how Herod kept his cool in the face of such a question… although I suppose anyone who has lied and stolen his way to the top knows how to deceive and pretend to get what they want.

Herod, you see, wants to know where this child is, too.

This baby is one more threat to his rule that must be eliminated.

This child represents that there are people in this world who are willing to resist oppression and overthrow their leaders.

This infant means that maybe the time for Roman rule has ended for the people of Israel – and that would mean that Herod’s time had come as well.

So instead of standing in their way, Herod recruits the magi to help him find this future king, pretending that he would like to bow down and worship him as well.

And so off they go, with new directions and they discovered the star leading them as well.

Matthew tells us that when they saw the star again, they were filled with joy.

It reminded me of what it was like to go those last few miles in Grand Canyon National Park after a long day on the road.

We knew we were close, and the setting sun was peeking out from beneath the clouds and lighting up the sky as we made our way close.

Brandon parked the truck and we hopped out to intensely cold wind and started making our way to the Desert Watchtower lookout.

And a gentleman called out to us… if you run, you will see the sunset…

So we took off, bursting with excitement and anticipation for that first glimpse of what we had traveled all that way to see.

And it took my breath away.

Brandon and I were the only ones at the lookout and we sat down on this little bench and just took it in.

And I thought of all that God has created and done.

The heights and depths and amazing intricate detail of how God is working in our midst.

It filled me with awe to think of how like the water of that river has gently, slowly, over time, carved a path through that rock… God has been making a way, gently, slowly, over time, for the birth of this holy child.

Matthew tells us that the magi fell on their knees at the sight of the child and his mother and they honored him.

A holy moment of worship and awe.

I imagine that the magi… like the shepherds before them… would have wanted to run and shout and tell the whole world about what they had seen.

I thought about while as much as I was trying to soak in the view, I also wanted to capture a picture… a way to share with others what I had just witnessed.

You see, good news is contagious.

The wonder of God wants to be known!

And so I’m sure the magi were busy making plans to head back the same way they came… to stop first by Jerusalem and share all of the details with Herod and then to stop back at each place along the way of that route they had travelled.

But that night, they dreamed a collective dream, warning them of what could happen if they did so.

As Pittman writes, “The Wise Men have a choice. They could succumb to the pressure of the King, which is think in the air and pressing in all around them, or they could choose to listen to the mysterious guiding of their sleeping vision. They decide to change up the narrative and resist the domineering, violent powers of this world, trusting their dream, and taking the long, likely dangerous, journey home by another way.”

It wasn’t just that they took another way home.

I think it was also that the journey to see the King had changed them.

As T.S. Eliot writes in his poem, The Journey of the Magi:

“We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.”

They had encountered God-in-the-flesh, Emmanuel… how could they ever be the same?

How could we ever be the same?

Brandon and I didn’t have plans for our journey home, but kind of let ourselves be open to wherever the road might take us. We decided not to go back the same way, but those amazing sights stirred up in us the desire to see more and do more.

We were able to see Petrified Rock National Park and visit the Georgia O’Keefe museum in Santa Fe and even discovered a collection of art-cars in a little town in Colorado. We journeyed through national grasslands and watched hundreds of tumbleweeds blow by ahead of us on the road.

We let ourselves be open to the possibility of what else there was to discover and are already making plans for our next road trip… wanting to be back out there, in the midst of creation, taking in all that this world has to offer.

All throughout this season of Advent and Christmas and now Epiphany, we have been asking what it means for God to make a home among us… what it means to accept God’s invitation to come home… and what it means to make a home for others.

And in a world of strife and busyness and fear… a world of stress and illness and exhaustion… a world that keeps us distracted by pointing fingers in every direction but the one where God is…

What would it mean for us to go home another way.

To do it differently.

To slow down.

To pay attention to what is happening in creation and the people around us.

To listen for those nudges from God that change our paths.

As you leave the service this morning, we are going to invite you to take a star word… and whatever word it is that you draw, I want you to think about the possibilities that are before you.

What if you are called to go another way?

Listen for what you might be called to embrace or to let go.

After all, God is still shining in this world.

The light of Christ is still leading us.

Renewing us…

Transforming us…

Calling us home by another way.

Let’s take one step… and then another… together, until we finally make it home.

Amen.

Text: Philippians 2:1-8

Arches National Park is perhaps one of the most iconic and picturesque of the spots we will visit.
Three hundred million years ago, give or take, this land lay beneath an ocean. With the ebb and flow of the waters, salt deposits built up hundreds of feet thick.
Eventually, pressure turned some spots turned into sandstone. But as water eroded away the salt but not the harder rock, sandstone was left hanging over these empty gaps, leaving nearly 2,000 arches (America’s Holy Ground, page 31).

But as we mentioned as we began today, these arches are not sturdy or solid. Landscape Arch has seen a number of collapses and Wall Rock Arch fell apart one night in a huge pile of boulders in 2008.
They were formed under pressure and eventually pressure from the elements and human interaction will cause these connections to crumble.

When we planned this series, I wanted to focus on the strength of our connections, but I must confess that yesterday as I was thinking about this sermon I spent most of my day weeping.
Because the connections between us in this nation have never felt more fragile.
Because the tension in the air is palpable.
Because every post or story feels like to fans the flames of division.
And while I try to do better, and be better, I’m guilty of it, too, as I think about conversations I’ve had this week.
I so desperately want to be able to find words to make things okay, to soothe the wounds of our relationships, to seek peace, and there isn’t anything I can say.
I can’t make it better today for my neighbors who are black, indigenous, or people of color.
I can’t make it better today for my neighbors who are law enforcement.
There is too much that is broken and has already crumbled.
We can’t look away and pretend we didn’t see.
There is too much work that has to be done to acknowledge the pain and to hold one another accountable before we can even begin to live in peace.

This Sunday is Peace with Justice Sunday in the United Methodist Church.
Our Social Principles remind us that, “As disciples of Christ, we are called to love our enemies, seek justice, and serve as reconcilers of conflict. “ ¶165.C
As I have heard chanted at various rallies… not just this past week after the killing of George Floyd, but anywhere faithful people show up to seek change:
“No Justice. No Peace.”
As we state for this day, “…political and social turmoil can be caused by a number of issues including economic disparity, environmental degradation, gender inequality, racism and xenophobia, and illness and disease. If we want peace, we must be committed to disrupting these conditions and systems that perpetuate injustice.” (https://www.umcjustice.org/what-we-care-about/peace-with-justice)

Next week, our confirmands will stand up and claim their baptismal vows.
Not only will they take responsibility for turning away from their own sin and failings…
They will claim the freedom and power God gives them to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.
We wrestled together with what that means, and all of their questions really got me thinking about what it looks like for me to claim that freedom and power, too.

What does it look like for us to resist those systems of injustice?
How do we begin?
How do we create the conditions for peace?
How do we seek justice?
How do we strengthen our fragile human connections?

There isn’t anything I can say in one sermon that can undo or fix systemic racism.
But we can talk about what each of us can do right now in our own personal relationships.

I found myself turning to Paul’s letter to the Philippians.
The church was experiencing a quarrel between two of their members – Euodia and Syntyche. We don’t know the details, but it had the potential to tear the church apart.
And so Paul writes to them these words… this is the Message translation:

“If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ,
if his love has made any difference in your life,
if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you,
if you have a heart,
if you care –
then do me a favor:
Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends.
Don’t push your way to the front;
don’t sweet-talk your way to the top.
Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead.
Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage.
Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself…
he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave…” (Philippians 2:1-7)

When there is conflict and division in the world, the only way we can overcome it, Paul writes, is by putting ourselves to the side.
We have to start focusing on what is good for the other person.
We have to humble ourselves.
We have to stop and pause and focus on the love we have for Christ and other human beings FIRST.
That is the agreement that Paul is talking about… that we would agree in Christ. That we would agree to be like Christ. That we would agree to look upon one another with love.

I find it interesting in the message translation that Eugene Peterson uses the word “privilege” to describe how Christ emptied himself of his status as equal with God.
The Greek word Paul uses here, rooted in kenosis, describes what it means to divest yourself of what rightly belongs to you.
The only way that God in Christ Jesus could reconcile with us…
The only way that God in Christ Jesus could repair the broken connection with humanity…
The only way…
Was for Jesus to set aside his privilege and power and status and to become one of us.
And then, to set aside his life and to die for us.

Paul sees the division in that community, sees the conflict between these two women, and he asks them to be like Christ.
The only way we can have reconciliation and peace is if we let go of trying to be right.
We have to stop focusing on what is best for ourselves and start asking what is right for others.
I think it is important to note here that not all power and privilege is equal.
Jesus took on the status of a slave… and for slaves, for the oppressed, for those suffering injustice… there is no lower for them to go. There is no power to relinquish.
So part of adopting the mind of Christ is becoming aware of the systems in our society that have created differences in the way people are treated and the advantages they have.
We have to look at the ways inequalities are slowly but surely eroding the connections that we have built with one another.
How are our health systems, education systems, economic systems creating the conditions for life for our neighbors?
Where we benefit unequally from those systems, we are not called to dig in deeper, but to work to help others get ahead.

When Paul asks us to put on the mind of Christ, he is asking all of us to equate ourselves, to humble ourselves, to make ourselves lowly.
To walk in the shoes of those who have nothing left to lose.
To listen.
To learn.
When we live this way… putting others first, setting ourselves to the side… it has a transformative impact on the rest of the world.
As Paul goes on to write in the next verses, again this is the Message translation:

“Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night…” (2:14-16)

We are to carry this mind of Christ with us everywhere we go.
In the letters we write to legislators.
In the attitude we strike towards those who disagree with us.
At the ballot box.
In the places we chose to shop.
With our families.
In the ways we stand up for those who are crying out for justice.

Think of yourself as Christ thought about himself.
And think of others the way Christ thought of them.
If we can start there, we have taken one step towards peace and justice.
And every step strengthens our connection.
May it be so. Amen.

Posts Tagged with Road Trip

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The Fragility of our Connection