Sermons

April 15, 2012

Life in Jesus' Name
John 20:19-31
Heather Prince Doss

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When I worked at the Dinner Program for Homeless Women, one of my colleagues in the office was a woman named Florence who had previously been homeless. I do not know Florence’s entire story, but by the time she and I worked together, she was the primary caregiver for five grandchildren and her life was made more secure by the availability of Section 8 housing. One day, Flo’s landlord informed her that he was converting the property and would no longer be accepting Section 8 vouchers. Florence came to work in tears: after all her hard work to make something of her life, she was going to be homeless again.

What shocked me about this situation was not that Flo would be evicted from her home. What shocked me was that Flo used the word “homeless” to describe her plight. I was struck by the difference between Florence’s worldview and my own. In my world, if I got advance notice that I could no longer live in my home, I would tell people that I am looking for a new place or that I might have to move in with my folks for a little while. It is the worldview of someone who has resources and security and a network. Flo was telling people (and most importantly herself) that she and her five grandchildren would be homeless. It is the worldview of someone who has few resources, little security, and no network of support. It is the difference between having and not having.

Our Scripture readings this morning are about people who have and people who have not. The reading from Acts is about how the church reconciles those who have wealth and land with those who do not have wealth and land. Material “haves” and “have-nots”: apparently the earliest Christians fit into both categories. The resurrection account from John’s gospel deals with the difference between those who have seen Jesus and those who have not seen. Spiritual “haves” and “have-nots”: the earliest Christians fit into both of those categories, too.

In the most technical sense, we are all spiritual “have-nots.” We have not seen with our eyes or touched with our hands the physical form of the resurrected Jesus. But we are not really all “have-nots,” are we? Some among us in this very place are as certain as certain can be that Jesus rose from the dead, ascended into heaven, and lives with the Father on their behalf, guiding the world to its good end. We have not seen him with our eyes, but we have seen Jesus and we know it. Lots more of us are kind of half sure. We want to believe all those things about Jesus. We try to believe. On our best days we manage to live like we believe. And a few of us struggle to have even half-sure faith. Like Thomas we require a physical experience, or at least some sort of mystical spiritual experience, to convince us beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus is alive and is Lord of earth and heaven.

We tend to envy those who can “just believe,” those who have had some kind of encounter with Jesus that makes them absolutely sure. So I was a little surprised when I read Jesus’ words to Thomas this week and they struck me in a new way: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Thomas got what he wanted. He became one of the “haves.” But Jesus says it is the “have-nots” who are blessed.

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.

Suddenly I was reminded of the Beatitudes: blessed are the poor; blessed are the hungry; blessed are those who weep; blessed are those who are hated and excluded and defamed (Luke 6:20-23). In other words, blessed are those who have not: not enough money, not enough food, not enough joy, not enough friendship, not enough vision. It is not a matter of opinion. It is not a matter of perspective. It is not even a matter of waiting for the final consummation of all things. It is a matter of fact: God’s fact. The ones who are blessed by God are those who have not seen; who do not have enough food or money or friends or faith to make it on their own.

It is hard to understand in our world where we admire the people who are strong and where people try awfully hard to buy happiness. We are prone to think that all of those folks I just name will be blessed. Scripture tells us that by heavenly standards, they are blessed.

Now, I do not know whether you think of yourself as one who “has it” spiritually. Probably none of us thinks we really have it all the time. But you know whether faith comes easily to you or not. I want to talk for a moment to those of you who think of yourself as a spiritual “have-not”, those of you who wrestle constantly with God and who struggle to believe what others seem so sure about. Jesus says that you are blessed when, through or despite your wrestling, you have come to believe. I like that phrase “have come to believe.” It suggests a process that it never finished. When I was learning to drive a manual shift car in South Africa, in a clunker, on the “wrong” side of the road, shifting with my left hand, after what seemed like a lifetime of lessons, my amateur driving instructor said to me in his broken English, “Heather, you are becoming okay.” I stalled out a million times after that. Each time I repeated to myself, “You are becoming okay.” Blessed are you who have not seen yet have come to believe.

This would make a pretty good conclusion to my sermon today, but I cannot stop there. I kept reading through the Bible and came to Acts chapter 4, which tells me that the Bible and faith and the church are not only about spiritual haves and have-nots. They are about material haves and have-nots, too. Jesus and his followers were not only concerned about a doubting Thomas; they were also concerned about a soon-to-be-homeless Florence. After Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, much of the New Testament is about how Christ’s followers live out the heavenly ideas about who is blessed in a world that turns it upside down and gets it wrong. How do we live so that spiritual and material have-nots are not objects of our pity but the blessed children of God? How do we organize ourselves so that God’s blessing is made visible and tangible? What does the peace that Christ promised his disciples mean for our life together?

Acts gives us a glimpse: “The whole congregation of believers was united as one—one heart, one mind! They didn't even claim ownership of their own possessions. No one said, ‘That's mine; you can't have it.’ They shared everything. The apostles gave powerful witness to the resurrection of the Master Jesus, and grace was on all of them” (Acts 4:32-33, The Message).

How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity (Psalm 133:1)!

The church was and is different from the world because here there are no haves and have-nots. When everyone is united as one, there is no difference. It is not so much that the material haves share their wealth with the have-nots, but that they do not really think of it as “their wealth” to begin with. It is not so much that the spiritual haves share their faith, but that they know that “their faith” is really Christ’s faith (Galatians 2:16-17). How can it be shared except to be Christ to a neighbor?

Today we heard about our youth who will travel to the Dominican Republic this summer. In a few minutes we will commission Andrew for his service in Panama through the Peace Corps. To those youth and to Andrew, I want to encourage you to enter those communities not as “haves” going to help the poor “have-nots.” Instead, reach out to your neighbors remembering that they are also reaching out to you with a gift to offer you. Remember that they are the recipients of God’s special blessing and might bless you if you pause long enough to share a relationship. Live and work among them as equal partners in building up the kingdom of God.

Maybe I sound a little utopian and idealistic. Maybe it is not me but the Scriptures that sound this way. Either way, we are only a week beyond Easter. We have proclaimed that God raised Jesus from the dead. From the DEAD. He was dead and then he was alive. If we believe that, even a tiny bit, could we not also believe the very same power can also overcome the divisions we erect among ourselves. And could we not order our life according to that belief? Will Willimon writes that, “the most eloquent testimony to the reality of the resurrection is not an empty tomb or a well-orchestrated pageant on Easter Sunday but rather a group of people whose life together is radically different, so completely changed from the way the world builds a community, that there can be no explanation other than that something decisive has happened in history”(1).

Florence and her five grandchildren did not end up homeless. I cannot remember now who exactly helped her out or how, but I know that the faith community of which Flo was part would not, under any circumstances, have abandoned her to the street. The unity between Flo and her church was a powerful witness to the resurrection of the Master Jesus, and grace was on all of them.

When you struggle to believe, you are blessed by God. When you do not have enough, you are blessed by God. It is a truth as unbelievable as resurrection, so how will you know it? You will know it because the rest of you -- those whose faith is strong and who have plenty -- will be a living sign, sharing everything and being Christ to the world. That is what it means to be the church. That is what it means to have life in Jesus' name. Do these things and you will proclaim the unbelievable truth of the risen Christ.

(1) William Willimon. Acts: Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Preaching and Teaching. (Louisville: John Knox, 1988) p51.
April 8, 2012

A Force for Life
John 20:1-18
Heather Prince Doss

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Hurricane. It is a bad word in these parts. We do not really talk much about them, and we certainly do not mention how long it has been since the last time we got sucker punched. I have not been through an actual hurricane myself. Eric was living in Charleston in 1999 during the evacuation for Hurricane Floyd. I was only a child, but can still remember watching the news coverage of Hugo and Andrew with wide, horrified eyes. No one has forgotten Katrina, least of all those who are still living in makeshift homes or without their loved ones. You do not have to live through a hurricane to know that it is a death force with its winds that snap trees like toothpicks, waters that lift homes off their foundations, and whirling direction that can never quite be predicted and can dash even our best laid plans and preparations.

You also do not have to have lived through a hurricane to know what it feels like to have the tall, sturdy things in life snapped in half. You do not have to have lived through a hurricane to know what it feels like to have the things you hold most dear lifted off their foundations and strewn about into a heap of rubble. Maybe you have never boarded up a window or bought gallons of water, but you know what it is to be swept away by the torrents of life, even though you thought you were well-prepared. You do not have to have lived through a hurricane to feel so sure that the death forces will miss you, only to watch them change course at the last second and whirl inescapably in your direction.

The death forces came whirling into Jerusalem with Category Five strength. Jesus, the chosen one of God, the Savior, God’s beloved Son, was dead. The Messiah had not conquered the oppressor but had become its victim, lying in a sealed-up tomb. The disciples thought themselves prepared to follow Jesus to the end; instead they found themselves hiding from danger. They were sure that at the last moment the angel-armies would come to save the Son of God and deliver the people of God; but no one came. Jesus died on a cross between two criminals. In Israel, life continued under Roman occupation. The death forces whirled.

The death forces were still whirling early on Sunday morning when Mary Magdalene came to Jesus' tomb. Surprised to find the tomb empty, she cried out to the other disciples and to the grave-robbing death forces, “What have you done with my Lord? Where have you taken him?” When the death forces come our way, they are blinding. We can see nothing else. Mary peered into the tomb a second time; finding it occupied by two angels she still could imagine no possibility other than grave robbers. She looked into the face of Jesus himself and was so blinded by death and tears that she did not recognize him. Like a broken tape recorder, like a person in crisis, she could only repeat the question: "They have taken my Lord. What have they done with him?" When the death forces whirl, their reach is total. Or so it seems.

As death whirls around, snapping hopes and leaving dreams in a heap, the weather suddenly changes. In Jerusalem, the gardener speaks again, but this time the voice is familiar, like the smell of fresh laundry on a cool breeze: “Mary!” The recognition is instant. The tape recorder is smashed. The tears that cloud her vision evaporate: “My Teacher!” With one deeply personal word, Mary's name, the risen Jesus dispels the forces of death much the same way that he calmed the raging seas and his terrified disciples (Mark 4:35-41). With a breath as powerful as a hurricane, the risen Jesus brings life to places in the grip of death.

It seems too simple almost. With all this Easter fanfare, perhaps we want something more. At Christmas we get heavenly choirs of angels singing peace on Earth. Wise men follow a mysterious star for weeks to reach the infant Jesus. On Easter, when the death forces have been raging for three days and for two thousand years, must we be satisfied with three confused disciples, two rather un-remarkable angels, and one soft but familiar whisper? Where are the trumpets? Where are the kings who will bow down and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord? Why aren’t the angel choirs and even the stones themselves breaking forth in songs of praise?

Jesus is alive! The death forces have been pushed back! But the news is not announced in trumpet blast and angel choir. The life-giving news comes with a deeply personal word, a name, a gentle breeze, a presence. The risen Lord is not an abstract concept to which we give our intellectual assent. The risen Lord is a concrete presence, one with whom we have a relationship. He is the one who steps in to the whirling forces of death and calls us by name, the one who breathes on us the Breath of God and gives us his peace.

We claim the resurrection by listening to Jesus as he speaks our names amid the death forces that swirl around us. The sound of his voice and the sureness of his presence are a force for life. We witness to the resurrection not with trumpet blast, but by blowing gently the force of life wherever the hurricane forces of death assail.

A dear friend of mine has been fighting the forces of death in her marriage lately. No one has done anything particularly wrong, but after nearly eight years of marriage and two children, she and her husband can seem to find no common ground to stand on. We were together recently when she shared that at one point she was so overcome with misery that she packed a bag and was actually ready to leave. We cried together. We talked until there was nothing left to say. And when we were out of words and the death forces were still whirling, I did the only thing I could think of. I hung crepe paper streamers from the ceiling fan, baked chocolate chip cookies, turned on some music, and had a dance party with my friend. We danced like fools in front of the open windows, waved at passers-by, and laughed hysterically. The cool, gentle breeze of resurrection pushed back on the death forces of divorce.

I read a story this week about a pastor who was called in to a nursing home where one of two twin sisters was dying. You do not have to be in a nursing home for very long to know that the death forces are whirling nearby. When this pastor entered the room that the twins shared, he was greeted by two women in their nineties:

The sister who had placed the phone call introduced herself as Dr. Francis Craig and her dying sister as Dr. Eleanor Craig. Both of the women had obtained their doctorates in music, studying under Virgil Fox, the premier organist of his day. . . . “It was amazing,” [the pastor] wrote, “to see Francis come to life as she spoke of days gone past. I was taken by her story but deeply saddened to see that such accomplished musicians had no CD player or tape player let alone an ipod to comfort them.” So, [he] went down to the nearby Borders and picked up a collection of Bach organ pieces (played by their teacher, Virgil Fox) and returned to the home. [He] cranked up the volume on a CD player so that everyone in the nursing home could hear – with our without hearing devices. As the music swelled, Francis’ hands, which are quite clinched, straightened as she played along with her former teacher.(1)

Together, the pastor and Francis played Eleanor into that great mystery; and the cool, gentle breeze of resurrection pushed back on the forces of death.

Jesus is alive! The risen Lord is the one who steps in to the whirling, hurricane forces of death, turns up the music, dances with us, and calls us by name. He is the one who breathes on us the Breath of God and gives us his peace. May you meet him today or whenever the forces of death beat inescapably at your door. And in the name of the Risen Christ, may you go out from here as a gentle breeze, a resurrection force for life.

Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed!

(1) Scott Black Johnston. “Indigestible: John 20:1-18” in Journal for Preachers. Easter 2012 (V 35, n 3) p42.
March 4, 2012

Enough!
Genesis 16:1-11 and 17:1-7, 15-16
Mark 14:3-9
Heather Prince Doss

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“Enough,” Sarah sighed. “We have waited long enough.”

As I think about Sarah’s story, I wonder what she felt as she gave up the dream of childbirth and resigned herself to motherhood by proxy. Even given the cultural morays of those days, it could not have been an easy thing to send your servant to conceive with your husband. God had twice spoken to Abraham and promised to make a great nation of him, but a great nation must start with an heir. The couple was still childless, and Sarah was growing older, too old to wait any longer. And so Sarah sent Hagar to Abraham.

“Enough!” Hagar cried. “I have had enough.”

Hagar is just a servant, a foreigner. She went to Abraham at Sarah’s command, and now her belly and bosom grew full and round. Any more, Sarah looked at Hagar differently, with contempt. Her words became sharp and her hand harsh toward this helpless woman who carried Abraham’s heir. There was no recourse for Hagar. She was far from her own people and their gods. Her livelihood depended on this family; but when Sarah became unbearably harsh, Hagar fled into the wilderness.

“Enough,” the others scolded. “Ointment is expensive. She has already wasted enough.”

We do not even know who “she” is. The nameless woman entered the house of Simon the leper, broke open an expensive jar of expensive ointment, and poured it over Jesus’ head. Such extravagance was inappropriate, even gaudy. The cost of that ointment could have fed a poor man for a year. What the so-called wise guests did not understand – could not understand – was that this gift was a gift of love, offered to a dying man without regard to the cost. And so the nameless woman served the Son of God.

“Enough. She has already wasted enough.”

“Enough. We have waited long enough.”

“Enough. I have had enough.”

They are cries of despair, all three of them. They claim “enough” but the truth is that in all of these stories there is not enough. For Sarah, there is first not enough faith that God will provide, and so she devises her own schemes. Then there is not enough compassion for Hagar who is enduring her own difficult role in the family drama, so Sarah mistreats this woman in her care. Without enough hope that tomorrow will be any better, Hagar runs away. Finally, for Simon and his guests there may not be enough to serve everyone, and so they try to control how each gift is offered and spent. Enough is not enough.

They are dramas that took place long ago and far away; yet they are familiar. The choices that Sarah, Hagar, and Simon had to make were false dichotomies. In many ways, they are the same false dichotomies that we devise today to protect ourselves, to console ourselves, to justify ourselves, and to enrich ourselves. When we are like Sarah, we are afraid that God has revoked his blessing from us; and so we scramble to enact plans that protect our rights, our wealth, our status – even if they take advantage of others. We have done it as individuals, we have done it as a nation, and we have done it in the church. When we are like Hagar, we are so abused and exploited that we cannot even believe God takes notice, much less has purpose for us. And so we weep behind closed doors and run away from difficult relationships and situations. When we are like Simon’s guests, we are so caught up in rules and protocol and counting beans that we cannot recognize good deed when it is done outside of the approved channels; and so we try to control and manage and exclude other people.

All of this is based in some human idea that there is not enough to go around, as if the economics of God’s kingdom were a zero-sum game. If I make room for her, then there will be less room for me. If God is faithful to that person, who happens to be my enemy, then God cannot be faithful to me, too. If I pray this way, then you cannot pray that way. If I give to that cause, then there will be nothing left for the next cause.

Enough.

This may be the way the world works, but it is not the way God works. The economics of God’s kingdom is not a zero-sum game. There is enough to go around! What Hagar and Sarah never figure out between themselves is that God has promise enough for both women. Both Hagar and Sarah will bear Abraham’s sons into the world. Both sons, Ishmael and Isaac, will be the fathers of great nations. God’s first promise to Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 12 is not cancelled by God’s new promise to Hagar in Genesis 16. In fact, that first promise is renewed in Genesis 17, after the birth of Ishmael. With God, there is enough faithfulness to go around!

What Jesus must explain to Simon and his guests is that costly gifts poured out in service to Christ are not wasted, particularly when they testify to the suffering that Jesus undergoes on our behalf. When we have decided what is good and appropriate, we tend to question or even scold those who do not do things our way. But Jesus teaches that this woman’s gift, extravagant and unusual as it may be, does not nullify more “appropriate” acts of kindness to the poor. In the kingdom of God, there is goodness enough to go around!

So why don’t we say, “enough.” Enough with this mentality that we must constantly measure our position and guard our resources and traditions. Let us live in the world but live by the economics of God’s kingdom. God proves again and again that where we wish to doubt God’s promises, restrain God’s power, and limit God’s goodness there is always enough: enough faithfulness, enough strength, enough compassion. Rather than demanding our blessing, why not spend our energy celebrating the way God has blessed our neighbors. Instead of insisting on my rights, I could spend my time working for justice for all people. Instead of “my way or the highway,” why not learn new ways to do things – new ways that might also be blessed by God.

What might it look like if we lived by the belief that with God there is always enough? For Sarah and Abraham it might have meant trusting in God’s promise without taking matters into their own hands. It surely would have brought peace in their relationship. For Sarah and Hagar it first would have meant that Sarah need not put her servant girl in a compromising situation. A radical trust in God’s faithfulness may have even allowed for a balancing of the stark power differential between the two women; perhaps they could have become partners instead of rivals. In the knowledge that God has enough goodness to go around, Simon’s dinner guests might have rejoiced at the nameless woman’s selfless gift and then offered meaningful gifts of their own.

I was on a retreat this weekend with twelve of our middle-school youth. On Saturday afternoon we did a challenge course with all different kinds of team-building activities. In one activity, a hula-hoop was placed in the center of the gym and filled with about fifty plastic balls. The youth were divided into three teams and each given an empty hula-hoop. The goal of the activity was for each team to get as many balls as possible into their hula-hoop. There were only a few rules: 1) balls could not be thrown or carried in your shirt, 2) once a ball touched the ground it was out of play, and 3) each team must start with all team members touching the hula-hoop. The teams were not equidistant from the center hoop, and they were given only 30 seconds to get as many balls as possible.

We did this activity four times, and each time the results were the same: each team carried about 15 balls from the center hula-hoop to their team’s hula-hoop. They devised some creative ways to transport the balls, they tried to run faster, and they inched closer to the center – all without much improvement. What the youth did not realize was that they could have picked their empty hula-hoop up from the ground, carried it to the center of the gym, and laid it over the hula-hoop full of balls. All three teams could have done this at once, and all three teams could have had all fifty balls in their hula-hoops. How hard it is for us to see that there really can be enough to go around!

What might God’s “enough” – God’s abundance – look like in your life, in our world, and in the church? What situation do you face, or do we face collectively, where God might be inviting you to wait patiently for his promise? What rivalries or jealousies have you nurtured in fear or pride? Could you believe that God has enough love and goodness in his hula-hoop for both you and your rival; even enough to heal the relationship? Where have you resisted change just because you like the old way better? Could it be that God’s blessing is offered in both old and new? What gifts have you withheld from the Lord? Could you trust that if you shared them, God would fill you anew with enough and more than enough?

We live on earth, and it is not always an easy place to live, but we live here as Kingdom people. In the Kingdom of God there is always enough. As you come to the table of this Kingdom, may you eat and be filled. May you drink deeply of God’s goodness. And may you go forth and share God’s abundant blessing. Amen.
February 26, 2012

Remember the Future
Mark 1:9-15
Heather Prince Doss

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On Wednesday, we entered the season of Lent. It is familiar turf for Catholics and many Protestants. It comes around every year, usually in February or early March. For forty days before Easter the church is draped in a somber purple color. Forty is one of those holy numbers that appears again and again in the Scriptures. It rained for forty days in the story of Noah and his ark. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty years before entering the Promised Land. Jesus was tempted by Satan during his own forty days of wilderness time. And so, in the church, these forty days before Easter have come to be known as a time of penitence for sin and preparation for suffering.

Perhaps the most widely known disciplines for Lent are the discipline of fasting and repentance. Some give up meat on Fridays in a show of solidarity with Jesus in the wilderness. Others might enter a caffeine fast or a cigarette fast in a sort of strange blend of both repentance (You know it’s bad for you.) and willful suffering (Oh the cravings!). I appreciate the spiritual motivation behind these practices, and I think they can be done appropriately, but for me they only serve to make me lust after whatever it is I have just “given up” and cause me to count down the days until Lent is over and I can drink coffee again.

At its worst, Lent is just plain depressing. We approach it as if it is our Christian duty to feel terrible. “Look what Jesus went through,” we think. “I should not enjoy myself so much. The least I can do is give up coffee.” Or, at another extreme, we enter into such deep reflection on our sins that we are paralyzed by guilt and self-flagellation.

The Lenten text as it is given in the gospel according to Mark offers another way to approach this Lenten season. Mark gives us much less information about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness than either Matthew or Luke. The latter two spend eleven and thirteen verses, respectively, detailing the temptations Jesus faced and how he overcame them. These are the stories we expect to hear on the first Sunday of Lent. But Mark gives us considerably less to work with, only two verses:

At once the Spirit sent Jesus out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

It is hardly enough to build a season lasting forty days! Mark is far less interested in what happened to Jesus during those forty days and far more interested in what happened before and after them. Mark’s wilderness account is preceded by the account of Jesus’ baptism where the Holy Spirit descends and the voice of God declares that Jesus is God’s beloved Son. The Holy Spirit then compels Jesus into the wilderness, where he stays for forty days. Immediately after this wilderness time, Jesus enters Galilee and proclaims the good news that the kingdom of God has come near – cause for repentance and rejoicing!

If we are guilty of getting bogged down in the Lenten wilderness, Mark reminds us that our Lenten journey is a journey through. We are not supposed to camp here too long. We come to Lent from the waters of baptism, empowered by the Holy Spirit. We come out of Lent with the good knowledge that the kingdom of God is a present reality. Lent may well be a wilderness journey, but like all wilderness journeys for people of faith, it is a journey whose destination is sure: the kingdom of God. It is a story whose outcome is clear: joyful kingdom living!

In a sermon on Lent, David Bartlett reflects on his tendency toward an “inappropriate sentimentality,” those times when he is tempted to wallow in emotions from events that are long past without remembering the future that has come to be (1). In my own experience, I can still remember the feeling of loving someone only to realize that I was not loved the same way in return. At the time, the pain was heart-rending. Even now, many years later, if I run my fingers along the surface of my heart, I can still feel the raised scar. If I wallow there too long I can even feel the prick of hurt once again. If I wallow there too long it can become as though my heart had never healed, as if I had learned nothing, as if I never again loved and been loved in return. But that is not how that story ended. In fact, my heart is stronger for it, if still marked by a small scar. My love for my husband is better for it, as is my enjoyment of his love for me. To wallow in those old emotions and fears in the presence of such “sustaining grace is just self-indulgent” (2).

This is the danger of Lent and the danger for all pilgrims walking through wilderness times. We are tempted to enter the wilderness having forgotten that the end of the journey is already prescribed: joyful living in the kingdom of God! That is not to say that the road will be an easy one or that we will never get hurt or we will not make some wrong turns along the way, but we should not wallow in the wilderness as people who have no hope.

We enter the wilderness as Jesus did, with the power and presence of the Holy Spirit. We emerge from Lent to discover Easter resurrection! We emerge from our wilderness journeys to find a joyful life in the kingdom of God! We know where our story is headed. For all the turmoil and uncertainty in our world, we are not a lost people, and we should not spend all of our time tracing old scars and licking wounds that are already beginning to heal!

If there is a spiritual disciple that is in order for Lent, I propose that it is not fasting or “giving something up;” it is remembering – not only remembering the past, but remembering the future. We are good at remembering the past, especially when the past was painful. But we are not so good at remembering the future that God has promised us and has already begun to work out in our midst, if we will only pay attention. Remember the future. See the rainbow hung in the sky and remember that God has turned his sword into a plowshare, his bow into a rainbow. Join in with the Psalmist as he remembers and sings of the deliverance of God. See Jesus come out of those forty days in the wilderness and proclaim, “The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news!”

Better still, observe your own life and identify the places where God has forgiven you, healed you, strengthened you, delivered you, or brought you joy. Name these events, however big or small they might be, and testify to them, proclaim them. Testify to the sustaining grace that has brought you where you are and that will bring you out yet on the other side of the wilderness, sustained by the Holy Spirit and living joyfully in God’s kingdom way.

In light of this testimony, this remembering, we can practice that other Lenten discipline, repentance, in a new way. No longer do we have to journey through the Lenten wilderness carrying a heavy load of guilt for all of our sins. This is not to say that our sins do not matter and we should just sweep them under the rug. We must confess. However, we do not confess hoping that maybe, if we confess enough or just right, then maybe God will forgive. The destination is sure! We already know the end of the story! In the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has already forgiven our sins! We do not need to approach repentance in fear, as if we do not know how it will turn out. Remember the future! It has already turned out far better than we could have imagined. And so we repent, not as a condition for God’s grace, but as a grateful response to it.

In thirty-six days, Lent will give way to Easter. We must journey through this wilderness, but we do so knowing that the destination is sure and that God will grant us grace enough to make it to the other side. May we remember the future that God has promised and walk joyfully – and with penitence – in its direction. Amen.

(1) David Bartlett, “Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent” in Journal for Preachers, V. 35, n. 2. Lent 2012. p49.
(2) Ibid. p50.
February 19, 2012

A Time to Keep Silent
2 Kings 2:1-12
Mark 9:2-9
Heather Prince Doss

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November 6, 2011

Getting Ready
Matthew 25:1-13
Heather Prince Doss

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October 23, 2011

For the Love of God
Matthew 22:34-40
Heather Prince Doss

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October 16, 2011

God and Caesar
Matthew 22:15-22
Steve Keeler

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October 9, 2011

You're Invited
Exodus 32:1-14
Matthew 22:1-14
Heather Prince Doss

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September 11, 2011

As We Forgive
Matthew 18:21-35
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August 14, 2011

Hope for Lean Times
Genesis 45:1-15
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July 17, 2011

In Your Dreams
Genesis 27:41-45, 28:10-19
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July 3, 2011

When You Just Can't Win
Matthew 11:16-30
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June 12, 2011

Who are Eldad and Medad?
Numbers 11:24-30
Acts 2:1-21
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May 8, 2011

The Promise Is For You
Acts 2:14, 36-42
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March 27, 2011

Living Water
John 4:4-42
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March 9, 2011

Ash Wednesday
Genesis 2:4-7, 15-17
2 Corinthians 5:17-21
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March 6, 2011

Transfiguration?
Matthew 17:1-12
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February 13, 2011

"Choose Life"
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
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February 06, 2011

"Get Real!"
Matthew 5:14-16 and 6:1, 16-18
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