wilderness – Salvaged Faith

The Wilderness: God Provides

Posted on April 14, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Deuteronomy 29:2-6, Mark 1:12-14

A few years ago, I was asked to plan worship for our semi-annual clergy gathering. My team had everything arranged and ready to go. I just had to make sure to arrive early enough in the morning that I could meet with the technical engineer to set up the microphones and other electronics we would need that morning.
At this point in my life, I was not a morning person. And in order to get halfway across the state, I had to be out the door of my house by 5:30 am.
The alarm went off at 5:00.
I turned it off and promptly pulled the covers back over my head.
Every fiber of my being wanted to go back to sleep. So I did.
Notice, I didn’t hit the snooze button. I turned the alarm off, and fell back to sleep.
Ten minutes later, something woke me up.
Whether it was the rustle and squacks of the birds in the tree, or a cat pouncing on my legs in the bed or just some kind of internal switch – I woke up.
And I remember very distinctly taking a deep breath and saying – thank God.
I didn’t mean it in an offhand, irreligious kind of way.
I was grateful to God that I had woken up.
I was grateful to God that although my body was not ready or willing, God was making sure I was going to be able to answer the call I had received.
I was grateful to God, because God provided.

How many of you have heard of the word “providence”?
What exactly does “providence” mean?
The word originally comes from the Latin providentia – and has to do with foresight, prudence, the ability to see ahead. So when we talk about God’s providence – we think of God’s ability to provide for, to direct, to shape the future.
Martin Luther understood providence to be both the direct and indirect work of God in the world. Not only does God provide the good things we need for human life – but God also works through family, government, jobs, and other people. “We receive these blessings not from them, but, through them, from God.”
John Wesley in his sermon “On Divine Providence,” speaks of the care that God has for all of creation and claims, “Nothing is so small or insignificant in the sight of men as not to be an object of the care and providence of God, before whom nothing is small that concerns the happiness of any of his creatures.”
It is intimately related to his idea of prevenient grace, in that God has already laid the foundation for all people to come into a saving relationship with God.
And so, providence is the way that God cares for the universe – upholds the universe – and also the special ways that God extraordinarily intervenes in the lives of God’s people.

Throughout this journey through the wilderness, God’s providence has been all around.
We have remembered together that our ancestors were a stubborn and rebellious people.
They witnessed miracles!
They were released from bondage in Egypt…
they passed through the Red Sea…
they were led through the desert by cloud and light…
they were fed by manna and quail…
they drank pure clear water from rocks in the midst of the wilderness…
and yet they doubted and tried to go their own way.
Yet they did not, could not, would not believe that God would continue to provide.
God did.
The words shared with us in the book of Deuteronomy come from the end of a forty year journey through the wilderness.
For forty years… longer than I have been alive… God led them. God fed them. God provided.
As Moses reminds the people on the edge of these promised land:
You couldn’t make bread or ferment wine because you were not in a place where you could raise grain or grapes… you had to rely upon God and God provided.
The clothes and sandals that you are wearing come from the same fabric and resources you had when you fled from Egypt… and they have protected you from the elements for all of these years.

I meant to bring it today because this piece of clothing is a sermon in and of itself, but my husband still has a t-shirt from elementary school that he wears.
We think the shirt is just over twenty-five years old, but since it hasn’t fallen apart completely, he refuses to add it to the rag pile.
When he worked in the Amana factory, he cut the sleeves off making it sleeveless.
The fabric itself is so worn that it is nearly see-through.
Now, it has become a staple of our summer adventures on the boat and we joke that the shirt has a Sun Protection Factor of 15.

When I think about the wear and tear on that one item of clothing that is worn only a dozen or so times a year, I am astonished by the way God provided for the Israelites all throughout that journey in the wilderness.
There were not laundromats or department stories in the Sinai.
No places to trade or barter for the raw materials.
Just the cloth and creatures they had when they fled from Egypt.
What little they had sustained them for forty years.
God clothes the lilies of the field (Matthew 6:25-34) and God clothed the Israelites in the wilderness.
Why do we doubt God will provide for us?

For most of our season of Lent, we have explored how Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness echoes the journey of the Israelites. Faced with some of the same trials and temptations, he shows us how to trust in God and not seek our own way.
Mark’s account of this time is very different however.
The entirety of his journey is summed up in one single verse:
“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” (1:13)
Matthew, too, pulls out that final detail in his account, tell us that when the devil left, angels came and took care of him.
God shows up again in the wilderness.
And God provides.
God cares for and tends to every need of Jesus during this liminal time.
Food, water, protection from those wild creatures, companionship.
God provides.

And as our Palm Sunday account reminds us, God is providing at the end of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem as well.
Before they even get to the city, the colt is ready.
It is tied up just where Jesus tells the disciples it would be.
And the strange and wonderful part of this account is that when they tell the owner that it is the Master who needs it, there are no more questions!

As they enter the city, the disciples break into song, shouting “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
And when the Pharisees grumble and complain, begging Jesus to tell them to be quiet lest they make a scene and disturb the Romans, Jesus tells them that this awareness of God’s blessing and providence in their midst is so powerful, so noticeable, that if the disciples closed their mouths the very rocks of the earth would start to shout!

And we cannot forget that this entrance into Jerusalem is the beginning of another act of providence in our lives.
For the rest of the journey this week takes us through the gates, to the upper room, the garden, the trial and ultimately to the cross.
In the very life and death of Jesus, God has provided a way for us to be reconciled… to our sin, to one another, to creation, and to ultimately, to God.

Over and over again in the Psalms, we are asked to tell the coming generations about the glorious deeds of God.
We want them to set their hope in God and to know that God will provide for their future.
But I think this act of proclamation is also for us.
When we remember how God has already provided, we find confidence for our future.

Our denomination, the United Methodist Church is wandering through the wilderness right now and we aren’t sure where the end of our journey will be.
But this past week, I gathered with others in Atlanta to celebrate that we have been in mission together for 200 years.
200 years ago, a free black man named John Stewart was a drunk and penniless and falling apart. But one night on the way home, he heard singing and he stumbled into a Methodist revival happening in the woods. His life was forever changed.
And then he heard God call him to head northwest and share to share the good news.
He found himself among the Wyandotte Nation and our first Missionary Society was formed on April 5, 1819 in order to support Stewart and those who would come in this work.
For 200 years, people have set out to share the love of God with complete strangers, and God provided.
They made mistakes along the way, but God provided mercy and forgiveness and we have learned from their journeys.
They encountered opposition, racism, sexism, the death of loved ones, hunger… but they kept going because God provided them strength.

As I heard their stories this past week, it was a reminder that even in times of uncertainty and change, hardship and conflict, God is in our midst.
Even in the wilderness…. Maybe especially in the wilderness… God is providing us with the things that we need to keep going.
When we remember all of the ways that God has worked in the past, we find the ability to have faith and to trust that God will continue to be there providing for our future.
Thanks be to God. Amen.

The Wilderness: Gotta Serve Somebody

Posted on April 7, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Exodus 32:1-4, Matthew 4:8-9

Before we get started today, I want to invite you take just a minute of silent reflection.

Somewhere, on your bulletin, I want you to write down the top five things that demand your time, attention, and responsibility. The top five things that you are called to focus on.
Take a minute… and if you can and have time, try to number them with 1-5 with 1 being the thing that is most important.

Hang on to those… we’ll come back to them

Today on our journey through the wilderness, we come to the third temptation Jesus encounters.
The devil takes Jesus up onto a high mountain and shows him all of the kingdoms of the world.

I have to admit. Every time I read this passage, I can’t help but think of Disney’s “The Lion King.” I imagine Mufasa strolling to the top of Pride Rock with little Simba at his side as they watch the sun come up over the savannah. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom,” Mufasa explains. “One day, Simba, the sun will set on my time here, and will rise with you as the new king.”
The young cub gets a glimmer in his eyes… “and this’ll all be mine?”

“This will all be yours,” the devil says to Jesus.
“Just bow down and worship me.”

There is a hidden question lurking just behind this offer from the devil. How and why does the devil have any authority whatsoever to be able to give these kingdoms to Jesus?
Our Lord and Creator made this world, and it all belongs to God, right?

Well, maybe not.
You see… from the very beginning, God has always entrusted this land, this creation, all the creatures to us.
As we are told in Genesis 1 – God made those first humans in God’s image and made them responsible for the fish, the birds, the cattle, and one another. God blessed them and gave them everything in all of creation.
And it was very good.

But what did we do with that gift?
We used it and abused it.
We took advantage of the creatures and one another.
Piece by piece, we have handed over this responsibility to our baser impulses.
With our actions and our inactions, through our impatience and fear, we have allowed the world to be controlled by the devil.

Our scriptures are full of these kinds of stories and they are clearly found during our time of wandering in the wilderness.
Exodus tells us about how the Israelites made their way to Mount Sinai after three months of travel and Moses went up the mountain to receive from God instructions about how the people should live. The very first declaration was this:
“You saw what I did to the Egyptians, and how I lifted you up on eagle’s wings and brought you to me. So now, if you faithfully obey me and stay true to my covenant, you will be my most precious possession out of all the peoples, since the whole earth belongs to me. You will be a kingdom of priests for me and a holy nation.” (Exodus 19:1-6)
And the people shout out a resounding “YES!”

But there are more details to be fleshed out in this instruction and Moses goes up to the mountaintop to receive them.
Twelve chapters go by in the book of Exodus.
And the people start to get impatient.
So by the time we get to our scripture for today, from Exodus 32, the people have had enough.
They agreed to follow the one who rescued them from slavery… the one who made the heavens and the earth… the one who was going to create of them a holy and mighty nation…
But as soon as fear and impatience set in, they are ready to move on to something else.

The people ask Aaron to make other gods for them.
They want to turn their allegiance, their hearts, over to something besides this God who terrified them and Moses who seemed to have disappeared into the clouds above.
They have needs.
They have desires.
They want to get going.
And they don’t see it happening anytime soon, so they are moving on.

It happens again after the people arrive and are settled in the promised land.
They want to be like other nations and have kings and rulers like they do.
So they turn away from God’s personal leadership and demand that they get a ruler (1 Samuel 8).

Over and over again, we take this precious gift of life, creation, and relationship that God has blessed us with and we say, “no.”
We instead allow other people, powers, and values to guide our lives.
In fact, if you were to look back at that list you created at the start of this time, what you will likely see are good important things that pull us in a million different directions.
They compete for ownership of our lives.
They compete with one another for a place of priority.
And every time we say yes to one of those things, we say no to something else.

Let me cut straight to the point.
Where is God on your list?
Or have we already decided to hand over this world and our lives and everything we do to something else?

It’s no wonder the devil has this world firmly in its grasp.
We have been selling it off, piece by piece, action by action, priority by priority for a long time.

So when Jesus finds himself standing on that mountaintop, he, too, has a choice.
Jesus could play the age old game where he lets fear and impatience and competing values rule the day.
He could take back this world by giving in to those baser desires to have it now and to have it your way and to have it be easy.
And… to be honest, once he had control of all the kingdoms of the world, he would have accomplished what he was there to do and he could kick the devil out!

OR… he could wait.
He could let God continue to rule.
He could take the more difficult path through the cross and the tomb and all the way to the gates of hell to wrestle the keys to the world from the devil’s grasp.
“Get out of here, Satan” Jesus responds. “it is written that You will worship the Lord your God and serve only him.” (Matthew 4:10)

Even Jesus has to write down a list of priorities.
Save the world.
Usher in the Kingdom of God.
Eat with sinners
Love the people.
Serve God.

Jesus has a choice that will shape every other item on that list.
In the words of Bob Dylan, You’re gonna have to serve somebody.

The Wilderness: Learning to Lean on the Lord

Posted on March 17, 2019Leave a comment

Text: Exodus 15:22-27, Luke 3:21-22, 4:1-2a, 4:14-15

This year, we are taking a journey through the wilderness during the season of Lent.

Most years, we spend one Sunday, if that, focused on the time that Jesus spent in the wilderness at the beginning of his ministry.
However, the wilderness is not something to be glossed over.

So over these six weeks of Lent, we will take our time with these stories.
We will slow ourselves down and really chew on them.

Today, we focus on what the wilderness itself represents for Jesus and the Israelites.
It is the In-Between place, a liminal space, a transition between what was and what would be.

While it looks like we have a collection of random verses in our gospel text today, what we have are bookends of a transition into ministry.

Jesus was born and grew up in the home of Mary and Joseph. He was obedient to them and matured in wisdom and years, Luke tells us. But we don’t really know much else about his life as a child or a young person. Not until he suddenly shows up on the banks of the Jordan River to be baptized by John.

There, the heavens split open and the Holy Spirit descends and Jesus is named the Son of God.

But what next?
How do you go from a nobody to a viral sensation who teaches and preaches across the region as our third set of verses tell us?
How do you transition from a quiet life in Galilee to a world-transforming movement of love and grace and justice that challenges the religious and secular leadership of the world?

You pause for a minute.
You take a breath.
You figure out who you are and whose you are.

That same Spirit that descended upon him, led Jesus into the wilderness. Led him into a time of temptation and wrestling. A time to clarify his values, his power, his mission, his message.
Over the next several weeks, we will look individually at each and every one of those temptations and what they tell us about who Jesus is and how we are supposed to live.

For today, we simply want to remember that he took this time, this beat, this moment between those two realities to get ready for the future.

And when he was ready, the Spirit sent him back into the world.

When he was ready.

Scripture tells us that Jesus was in that wilderness for forty days, but the reality is, Jesus was in the wilderness for as long as it took him to get ready.

That number, forty, shows up 159 times in scripture and it is not a coincidence.

Instead, the number itself is a representation, a symbol, a clue as to the significance of the moment. It speaks to the reality that this is a time of testing that is meant to form the person or the people into a more faithful future.

The earth was flooded in the days of Noah for forty days, Jonah warned Nineveh for 40 days of its impending destruction, and Ezekiel laid on his side for 40 days to symbolize Judah’s sins – all represent a transition from our sinful past to the possibility of a new future.

Moses and Elijah, like Jesus, fasted for forty days in the wilderness – and these times were important transitions as they waited upon the Lord to give them instructions for leadership.

And then there were the Israelites.
They had been slaves in the land of Egypt.
All they knew was oppression and toil.
They didn’t know what it meant to live without Pharaoh’s rule, much less what it meant to live as the people of God in a new land.

The wilderness was not just the path they had to travel to the land of milk and honey.
It was also a time of transformation and testing where they would be strengthened and learn how to lean upon the Lord.

Exodus tells us that as soon as the Israelites were truly liberated on the other side of the Reed Sea, they celebrated their victory and began to move forward into this new land.

Together, they traveled for three days. Three days is all it took for the Israelites to journey through the wilderness without water before they started to grumble and complain and fall apart.

And God does a miracle in that place. The Lord has Moses throw a stick into the bitter, undrinkable water they had discovered, and suddenly it is sweet and refreshing.

They are learning to lean on the Lord.
They are learning to trust in God’s power.
But they are really just beginning to learn.

I look at this map and you know what really strikes me…. Where Marah, this place of bitter water is situated.

It only took them THREE days to travel this whole distance.

And it took them forty years to make the rest of their journey.

Because days were not enough time.

Years were not enough time.

It was going to take a generation of testing and transition and wilderness wandering before the people of Israel could leave behind what was and truly be ready for what was coming next.

Forty days…. Forty years… it took however long it needed to take for the people to be ready.

Right now, the wilderness is calling out to us.

Matthew, Luke and Mark all tell us that Jesus is led by the Spirit out into this liminal space, but Mark uses even stronger language. The Spirit forced him to go. He was pushed out there.

Just because you are led doesn’t mean you have to go. You chose to obey.

But to be forced… it means I don’t want to do something, and I don’t have a choice.

Did Jesus want to be in the wilderness?

Did he want to spend forty days wrestling with Satan?

I get the sense that any rational person wouldn’t choose this situation.
Jesus didn’t want to be there, but he had to do it.
He had to spend this time apart.
He had to get ready for what was to come.
Jesus had to make sure his head and heart and body were aligned before his ministry started.
It was going to be a rough journey and he was going to be working with some knuckleheads of disciples… not to mention the cross that would loom before him.

This time apart was necessary, because after the wilderness, there was a job to do.

Friends, we also have a job to do.
We are called to be disciples of Jesus Christ.
We are called to be God’s church, the Body of Christ, and to live according to his example.
We are called to make other disciples and to transform the world.

Are we ready? Have we prepared ourselves?
Or are we like those Israelites who are only a few days into a journey and already we are making excuses and want to go back to the way things were and we need to be forced to stop and take it slowly and re-orient ourselves to God.

I think some of us have to be forced into the wilderness of Lent… and that includes myself.
I’m too busy to spend any extra time in prayer and fasting and study… I’ve got a job to do, right? That’s what we tell ourselves.
But when we force ourselves to stop…
When we hand a piece of our lives over to God for a while…
Well, then suddenly we find that all those priorities re-align.
We remember it’s not about me or my desires or my needs… but about God.
And about getting ourselves ready for what God needs us to do in the world.

To be God’s people.
To repent and live differently.
To lead in a new way.
To offer ourselves for others.

This time of testing and preparation and wilderness is not about suffering for the sake of suffering. It is not in itself pleasing to God for us to be tempted and tried.

Remember, after all, that Jesus was already beloved, dearly loved, just the way he was before being sent into the wilderness.

No… the wilderness, these forty days, are only pleasing to God because they get us ready to come back OUT of the wilderness.

I am reminded of that old gospel song, “Come Out the Wilderness.”

It reminds me that we are going to come out of this time of wilderness.

Sometimes this time will make us want to weep… or pray… or shout.

But most importantly, when we come out the wilderness, when we finish this journey, when we get to the other side of this “in-between” we will do so leaning on the Lord.

So during this season…
During these forty days…
During this time in the wilderness….
What do you need to do to get yourself ready…
What do you need to do to lean on the Lord?

The Wilderness: Can These Bones Live?

Posted on March 11, 2019Leave a comment

Yesterday was my Sabbath day.
I wore pajamas all day long.
I curled up in a chair and played video games.
I watched five episodes of Grey’s Anatomy on the DVR.
I was a sloth.
I was exhausted.
I needed to stop moving,
stop thinking,
to simply be.

But there is a fear
that when we stop moving and thinking and doing
maybe we will never want to start again.
Maybe once we stop
we cannot start again.

I got up from my chair late in the day
And my bones ached.
My muscles hurt.
Every joint felt like it was crying out.

Don’t get old, Katie,
my dad always tells me.
Don’t get old, because your body stops working.
It starts talking back.
It cries out and lets you know what aches.
It tells you that you are fragile.
You are merely bones and flesh.
You are human.
You are not invincible.
You are not wonder woman.
You cannot do it all.

Actually, maybe I need that reminder.

Maybe we need that reminder.

Maybe we need this season called Lent.
Maybe we need to call a time out.
Maybe we need to remember that life is fragile.
Life is precious.
Life is fleeting.

We come from nothing but dust and ashes.
We will return to dust and ashes.

I say those words a few dozen times a year
As I stand with families over an open grave.
As we gently return the bodies of their loved ones to the earth.

Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.

And I find myself telling them…
Telling myself…
That in between those two bookends
We have an opportunity.
A beautiful opportunity.
To clothe ourselves with new life as well.
A life that extends beyond the valley of the shadow of death.
A life that will overcome even the grave.

Can these bones live?
That is the question on the tip of our tongue
As we watch our loved ones lowered into the earth.
Can these bones live?

The prophet Ezekiel was familiar with that question.
Can these bones live?
Can life return?
Is this really the end of it all?

He witnessed his city under siege.
He saw its walls crumble.
He saw the temple destroyed.
And then, he had to leave everything behind.
Forced against his will
To journey through the wilderness
To a strange land
A foreign land
A hostile land.

From the dust of the earth that city and temple was built.
And to dust it returned.

Ezekiel also knew…
Quite keenly he was aware
That death and dust and destruction
Were the tools of God.

He was called to name the sins of Judah
The transgressions of Jerusalem
With his very body
His bones and his flesh
He bore witness to the impending destruction.

He starved himself long before the siege.
He shaves his head long before he was taken prisoner.
He begins to experience in his very bones
The fear and trembling
That would soon be upon the people.

And part of him has to wonder…
Can these bones live?

Can this dead and lifeless people repent?
Will they see the light?
Are they able to change their ways?
Will it be too late?

Babylon arrives.
The city is destroyed.
The people are sent away.

Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.

When I find myself on my knees
Laid low in humility
Brought to nothing
I remember I am dust and ashes
I am the stuff of the earth

And in that moment
Sometimes there is a quiet acceptance.
I am dust and ashes.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I have reaped what I have sown.

But somewhere in me there something else…
a spark.
something that dares
that yearns
Can these bones live?
Can we begin again?

Even if it way too late…
Is it ever too late?

After all,
We began as dust.

And as dust,
You, God,
You breathed life into us.

That spark I feel.
That yearning.
That calling.
That desire to live
To truly live and love and move and serve.
To do it right.
To do it well.
That is Your presence in me.

Your breath in us.
Stirring… calling… pushing.

The city was in shambles.
The people were scattered.
And there was this divine spark
Speaking in Ezekiel’s soul.
Stirring… calling… pushing…

And that spirit led him out of himself
Out of captivity
Out of complacency

Can these bones live?

It was a question Ezekiel wasn’t sure if he dared to utter.
It was a question that he longed to speak aloud but couldn’t.
It was a question of hope.
And hope was now a stranger to him.

So God asked the question instead.

Can these bones live?

Can your bones live?
Do you believe that I can breathe life into you again?
Are you willing to risk that it is not too late?

Ezekiel isn’t sure.
Lord God, only you know…
Only God can do it…
If it could be done.

And God calls him to stand.
God calls him to speak.
God calls him.
And he answers.

Out of dust and ashes.
Out of hopelessness.
Out of grief.
Out.

Ezekiel speaks.
And the bones start to shake.
The earth starts to quake.
Everything is at once falling apart and coming together.
A great transformation.
Everything changing.
Everything becoming.
Bones.
Flesh.
Sinew.
Skin.

And then there was breath.
God’s breath.
The Holy Spirit rushing like the wind.
Filling those bodies.
Standing them up.
Calling them back to life.

We are ashes.
We are dust.
We are bones.
We are sinful people, brought low by our deeds.

And yet…
There is that spark…
that breath…
that glimmer of God…

Telling us it is not too late.
It is not too late to stand.
It is not too late to live.
It is not too late to love.
It is not too late to repent.
It is not to late to act.

On my own, I can’t do it.
I will burn out.
I will falter and make mistakes.
On my own I’m not strong enough.
I am dust and ashes.

But… and… I am more than dust and ashes.
Because I am also the Lord’s.
And this body.
This flesh.
These bones.
Are filled with the Spirit.
And this body.
This flesh.
These bones.
Are part of the body of Christ.

When I stop, for just a moment.
When I let my bones and flesh rest.
It is then that I remember
God is with me.
God is in me.
God is in us.

Can these bones live? God asks.
Can this scattered and broken people live?
Can this church live?

Only you know, Lord.

So, come, Holy Spirit.
Come, Breath of God.
Come and knit us back together.
Come and fill us with your life.
Help us to stand.
Raise us up.
Send us out.

Returning from Thin Places

Posted on February 14, 2016Leave a comment

There are places in this world that are “thin.”
It is a label given to places, in the Celtic understanding, where the barrier between the human and the divine, heaven and earth, is nearly imperceptible.
A place where we experience the divine more readily.

In biblical history, we see a number of these “thin places” or holy locations: like Mount Sinai or the temple in Jerusalem, or that mountain where Jesus was transfigured. Sometimes, it is the location itself that is key… sometimes it is the hearts of the people gathered who seem to transform it.

Perhaps you have known a “thin place.”
Experiences that have filled you with a sense of awe and purpose.
Sometimes people call these “mountain top moments”… even if they didn’t actually take place on a mountain because they are the peaks of our spiritual journey.
“Thin places” are where you have felt God’s presence more than any other.

As I think back in my own spiritual journey, I’ve had these kinds of experiences in large gatherings of faithful folks at retreats, and I’ve had them in silent moments at the top of mountains. I’ve also had them right here, in this sanctuary, in this building, as we have gathered to worship and praise God.

And what I have noticed is that it is always hard to leave those places.
You want to linger.
You can’t imagine normal life in the same way again.
The pull to stay is almost irresistible.
But eventually you have to return.
Return to your life.
Return to solid ground.
Return to the mundane and the thick and the muck and mess.

In our gospel this morning, we find Jesus returning from one of those “thin places.”
The Jordan River was a place of healing and transformation.
John the Baptist called people out to the river to repent and be baptized.
And when Jesus visited, that barrier between the heavens and earth grew so thin that the skies burst open and the Holy Spirit descended upon him.

But like us, Jesus can’t stay there.
He can’t set up shop there on the banks and wait for the world to come to him, any more than we can’t live here in the church for our whole lives… waiting for flocks of people to come into our doors.
No, he has to return to the rest of the world.
There is work to be done.

So, full of the Holy Spirit, like we often are after these holy moments, Jesus returns from the Jordan.

And there is something that happens in this returning, in this transition.
In between verse 1 where he returns from the Jordan and verse 14, where he returns to Galilee, there is a gap.

The wilderness.
A liminal space.
40 days of discomfort, of waiting, of transformation.
40 days of fasting and wrestling.
40 days of trial and temptation.
40 days.

Biblically, this 40 days reminds us of the great flood in Genesis, or the Israelites wandering for 40 years in the wilderness. Moses fasted for 40 days… so did Elijah.
This number 40 doesn’t have to mean a literal forty days… but it signifies the right amount of time it takes to get you ready for whatever comes next.

As Jesus returns from the Jordan, he needs to prepare himself for his ministry in the world. And the devil shows up to tempt him. As Jesus is shown all of the possibilities for what that ministry might look like, he has to figure out what kind of savior he will be. He wrestles with his calling. He takes time to focus fully on the presence and power of God that will sustain him in his work.
And in that time, Jesus is preparing himself to go and BE a thin space in the world.
To be the very presence of God, Immanuel, with the people.
And if Jesus, the very Son of God, needs this liminal time to get him ready to return to the world… don’t you think we do, too?

Every week, we gather in this church to worship and experience the divine. It has become for us a sort of thin place… [And soon, some of us will be worshipping in a new thin place].
And what we experience here… the friendships we make, the prayers, the support and accountability, the life-giving spirit… is good and awesome and holy.
But we can’t stay here forever.
Every Sunday, when the worship has finished and we take leave of the building, we have to return to the world.
We have to go out into Galilee, into Des Moines, into our mission field.
There is work to be done for the sake of the gospel.

But I’m afraid that too often, we come to a holy and thin place like this, we get filled up with the Holy Spirit, and then as soon as we step outside of the doors, the devil is waiting for us.
And the devil prays on all of our insecurities and temptations.
I fear, that most days, instead of holding on to the spirit of God… we instantly fill ourselves back up with worries and concerns, with politics and ideology, with work and school and family troubles.
We walk out the door and forget about what we have just experienced.
Back to the normal, mundane, ordinary world, as ordinary, normal, mundane people.

What if, before we left the building, we took a moment to get ourselves ready?

Sometimes I give you big challenges, but this morning, I want us to think small.
I want to challenge all of us to carve out not 40 days, not 40 minutes, but 40 seconds of space…
40 seconds of wilderness time… to help us return back to the world.
I want to challenge you, before you walk out the doors today, to spend just 40 seconds putting your trust in God.
40 seconds to remember who we are and whose we are.
40 seconds to lift up the temptations we know we will face and place them in God’s hands.

Our churches have work to do. We have a kingdom to help build. There are lives that are lost that need the love and grace and mercy of God.
And we cannot do it by ourselves.
We can’t do it without being filled with the Holy Spirit.

Here’s the thing… YOU are the temple of God. God’s Spirit lives within YOU.
And God wants you to be the hands and feet of Jesus out there in the world.
God needs your ministry and your work out in the world.

So let us get filled up with the Spirit.
And let us go out, to live as “thin places,” to be people who bring the love of God to every person we meet.
Amen.

Come Out the Wilderness

Posted on March 10, 20116 Comments

As we started this journey of Lent yesterday with Matthew, we entered the place of wilderness and watched as Jesus wrestled verbally with the devil. It was a rich dialogue of temptation and power and scripture… with some magical teleportation thrown in there for good measure. But as Keith Mcilwain reminds us, the devil is not all pitchforks and fireworks. (For yesterday’s Lenten Blog Tour reflection click here)

Today, though, we find ourselves in the gospel of Mark. He is terse with his words. He is urgent. In less verses than sum up the verbal banter of yesterday, we get Jesus’ baptism, the wilderness and the first description of his ministry.

About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “ You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness. ”

At once the Spirit forced Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among the wild animals, and the angels took care of him.

After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, “ Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news! ” (Mark 1:9-15, Common English Bible)

I find myself caught up in a whirlwind when I read Mark. I find him taking me places faster than I am prepared to go. I am still back in the wilderness… heck, it’s only the second day of Lent – I’m barely IN the wilderness!And here we go rushing back into the world again?My own life has been so chaotic lately, that to spend time with this hurried verion of the gospel exhausts me. And yet, here I sit, with this passage assigned.

(deep breath)

The wilderness keeps calling out to me.

And in Mark’s text, the wilderness was somewhere Jesus was forced to go.

Other translations have used words like “sent,” “impelled,” “pushed,” “drove.”

But “forced” feels different. Just because you are sent doesn’t mean you have to go. You chose to obey. To be impelled or driven gives me the sense that there is something that urges you on, be it internal or external, and your own will aligns itself with that push. But to be forced… it means I don’t want to do something but I don’t have a choice.

Did Jesus want to be in the wilderness?

Did he want to spend forty days wrestling with Satan? Sure, there were angels watching out over him, but it was also the wilderness! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

I get the sense that any rational person wouldn’t choose this situation. Jesus didn’t want to be there, but he had to do it. He had to spend this time apart. He had to get ready for what was to come. Jesus had to make sure his head and heart and body were aligned before his ministry started. It was going to be a rough journey and he was going to be working with some knuckleheads of disciples… not to mention the cross that would loom before him.

He had to be forced to take this time apart, because after the wilderness, there was a job to do.

I sometimes have to force myself into the wilderness of Lent, too.

I’m really too busy to spend any extra time in prayer and fasting and study… I’ve got a job to do. I have important ministry that takes place.

But when I force myself to stop… when I hand a piece of my life over to God for a while… I find that all those priorities re-align. I suddenly remember it’s not about me.

Maybe it is a good thing that before we can even blink Mark has led us through the wilderness and back out again into ministry.

When I stop to think about it, I am comforted by the fact that the wilderness is not forever. It is not something we do just for the sake of doing it. We don’t even spend time in the wilderness to please God… as our passage reminds us, Jesus has already done that before the time “out there” has begun.

This time apart gets us ready to come back out of the wilderness.

I have recently re-discovered that old song, “Come Out the Wilderness.” Unlike some versions that are jubilant, I prefer this rendition that is minor and plaintive.

It reminds me that I’m going to come out of this time in the wilderness.

It reminds me that sometimes the wilderness will make us want to weep… or pray… or shout.

It reminds me that most importantly… when we come out the wilderness, we do so leaning on the Lord.

My ministry is not about me. It is about proclaiming something that is far greater than I will ever be. I am only one small part of a much bigger body. Even Christ when he came out the wilderness didn’t point to himself, but to God’s kingdom that was coming our way.

We sometimes have to force ourselves to spend time in the wilderness to get our heads and hearts screwed on straight. We have to force ourselves into this time of discipline, this time of waiting, this time of dependence upon God and God’s mercy, so that when we come out the wilderness, we will remember it’s not about us.