Lent Reflection 5: God is our Solution!

Psalms 130:1-8; Eze 37:1-14; John 11:1-45

I am trying to get caught up on my Lent Reflections. The past several weeks have been chaotic to say the least and I've not taken the time to sit down and write. But, it certainly isn't because I've not read the weekly scriptures or taken the time to contemplate them. I've sort of been walking around with my cheeks packed full from them. Like a cow chewing its cud, I've had the time and opportunity to meditate on these scriptures and they have deeply impacted me. 

I doubt there are few Old Testament scriptures more familiar to pentecostal preachers than Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones. Being a former pentecostal preacher myself, I have taken up this text many times over the years, preaching it from a variety of charismatic viewpoints. But, I must admit that when I read this again, nestled between Psalms 130 and the story of Lazarus' resurrection, I was tremendously moved. 

Sometimes I think we get complacent about scripture, especially those we've read over and over again. It's easy to feel as if we've mined a text for all its relevant value; we've learned all that a particular scripture has to teach us. It amazes me, however, how God can breathe new life into a passage and help us see things from it or through it that we've never seen before. In this sense, the idea that our scriptures constitute a living document is extremely true. Over and over again they prove to have a lively and engaging message.

So, as I read these passages, one distinct theme emerges: each situation is desperate and in each circumstance, God is the only solution. This theme weaves each of these passages together. Each predicament is dire, hopeless, and in need of divine intervention. The Psalmist has reached the tipping point and cries out in his desperation for God, knowing that only God can save him and his people. Ezekiel is taken to a valley and shown a horrific sight of death and carnage: the valley floor is littered with the bones of an entire army of men. Only God can make the bones live. Lazarus is dead, been dead for several days, his body already prepared and placed in a tomb. If he is to live again, Jesus is his only hope. Only Jesus can speak life into his lifeless body. 

Lent Reflection 4: Keep On Moving!

Lord, I’ve got to keep on moving
Lord, I’ve got to get on down
Lord, I’ve got to keep on grooving
Where I can’t be found
–“Keep on Moving”, Bob Marley

It just so happened that as I was reflecting on this week's lectionary readings, a post about Bob Marley showed up on my Facebook feed with the lyrics to the chorus of his song "Keep on Moving." Obviously, the song is about something entirely different, but the chorus fits well with my thoughts about Samuel's commission to anoint the next King of Israel in 1 Samuel 16:1-13. This is a scripture about transition; it speaks to the issue of change; change in response to failure which is something that none of us enjoy dealing with. 

I can relate to Samuel. Obviously the text is a bit ambiguous here and we don't really know exactly why Samuel is grieving. It's a posture that doesn't quite fit well in the panoramic view of this story, so please grant me a little latitude. I imagine that he is grieving over his friend because he didn't live up to his expectations. Perhaps, there was a bit of self pity going on here as well, because Samuel was intimately involved in Saul's coronation. Maybe, Samuel's bearings were being shaken here. Surely he had heard from God, didn't he?  Didn't he choose the right man? But look at what's happened! 

None of us like change. More than that, we certainly don't adjust too well when change is connected to some controversy or failure. And it's so easy to get bogged down in self pity and take upon ourselves the woe-is-me syndrome. The wilderness is fraught with all sorts of pitfalls.

The problem with being bogged down like this is that we fail to keep moving forward and the danger in that is stagnation. The wilderness is meant to be traveled through; thus, the lenten metaphor of being embarked upon a journey.  Here, the words of Marley's song become important. "Lord, I gotta keep moving on..." This should be our wilderness mantra. When we stop moving forward, stop progressing, stop learning, stop being productive, we can find ourselves in danger of stagnation, which will ultimately lead to death. And there are many things along this journey that can do this to us. 

God tells Samuel to get up, compose himself, and head to the house of Jesse. God has a plan, a man who is waiting in the wings that Samuel is suppose to anoint as the next King over Israel. When at first you don't succeed, try and try again is the message of this story. I don't want to get into the nuances of the narrative (I've never quite understood Saul's rejection), but obviously this would prove to be the right decision. David would ultimately unite the Israelites and lead them into what is known as their golden age.

Samuel responds with fear. I get it, I really do. God knows I've been there! You fail or you get hurt and you sit there licking your wounds and it feels good to rest and try and forget about what put you there. It feels good to weep sometimes and harbor your frustrations. In fact, sometimes stepping out of the game altogether seems like a worthy proposition. Samuel was old, he had done his job, anointed Saul because he thought that was the right thing to do... I can hear him now: "the chips fell and it's not my fault. God, you can clean up the mess! I did my part, now leave me alone! You are going to get me killed!"

Getting back up and going back into the game and doing what God has asked us to do can be very scary. How do we know that our next choice will be better than our previous one? We don't. I wish I had a better answer. I wish I could tell you that everything you are faced with and the choices you are asked to make will always make sense. I wish there was some formula that we could all employ that would guarantee our success all the time. But, there's not. 

We can't help but fail at times. It's a part of the process. We will experience times of grief and regret and all those negative emotions connected with failure and hurt.  Sometimes we can't help but pause because the devastation overwhelms us. But God always has a plan. When at first we don't succeed, try and try again.  Keep moving on... 

God never quits. This fact saturates the entire message of the bible. God fails over and over again. His plans get messed up and his people don't do what he wants them to do. He chooses this man and he gets disappointed and then he moves to another, only to see him or her crash and burn. But God never gives up, and neither should we. 

Lent is about reflection, introspection, self assessment, taking stock on one's life and our place in the world, the church, our job... But its not a place to stop. We got to keep moving forward. When we fail, we got to get up and keep going. There's a king to anoint, a promise land to possess, giants to slay. Sure, we might get banged up along the way and sometimes we'll sit down and weep. But, not too long. Success can not be measured in snapshots. It's the entire game that matters. May God help us not only to play well, but to have the tenacity to stay in the game!

Lent Reflection 3: Coffee and Morning Prayer

This Lent season has truly been a journey for me so far. It has been a time of reflection; a time of taking stock of my life and faith. I must admit, that I have been somewhat troubled by what I see. While I am happy to report that my faith is intact and that I believe in God today in a way I couldn't admit several years ago. I also see that there are so many areas of my life that can use some rearranging. There are some priorities that I am ashamed to admit, have long been neglected and put on the back burner.

Some of this reflection has been stirring for quite some time now. Long before Lent began, I was feeling a certain conviction that I was not used too. A Facebook friend of mine, some time ago, began to post every morning, usually first thing, that he was having coffee and morning prayer. And every time I read this, I thought, "well, I've got the coffee down, but the prayer thing, not so much."

My faith, for years now, has been an intellectual pursuit. I'm not saying that I've not been a Christian, but at best, I've been a reluctant disciple. In some ways, this has been a defense mechanism in me. It's not that I haven't ever experienced God in prayer and devotion; in fact, it is the exact opposite. I have been there. There was a time when my faith was entirely mystical, but it was in that time of my life when I found myself thrust into a crisis of faith that left me empty and wanting for a better understanding of God and what he wanted from me. 

Another Great Homily for Lent

Here is a great homily written by an UMC pastor, Ryan Parker.



From Wounded & Wandering in the Wilderness... to Washed with Living Water
.by Ryan Parker on Saturday, March 26, 2011 at 5:25pm.Homily for the Third Sunday in Lent, Year A (March 27, 2011)

Here we are in Lent, which begins in the desert and in a garden, and here we are today in a desert and at a well.

We westerners are used to water, clean water, being everywhere.  We have tap water fit-to-drink.  We have so much water we chlorinate it and fill big holes in our backyard with it so we can swim around.  We have clean water everywhere.  But for folks that live in the desert, well, getting clean water isn’t so easy.  Getting ANY water isn’t so easy.  And without water there is no life.  Without water, nothing grows.  With no vegetation, there are no animals, and certainly no humans.  We’re practically made of water.

And without water, we would all die.

That’s what the Israelites are facing in today’s passage from Exodus.[1]  They have been following Moses out of slavery in Egypt, and they are starting to get grumpy.  Slavery sure wasn’t any fun, but at least in Egypt they had houses to live in.  Being a slave is no kind of life, especially when the squalid conditions caused many infants to die, and the ones that didn’t die were killed by Pharaoh’s henchmen, but at least in Egypt there was plenty of water.

“What good is the promised land if we die before we get there?  Moses, where are you taking us?  Where is this God you’re talking about?  The pillar of cloud by day and fire by night is neat and all, but couldn’t your God just warp us to the Promised Land or something?  It’s hot out here.  We’re thirsty!”  Grumble, grumble, grumble.

But the people had a point.  Without water, we will all die.

So God provides water for the people.

I think we are a lot like the Israelites.  This is Lent.  We’re on a “Lenten journey.”  We are supposed to be thinking about what it means to be “out in the wilderness,” out in the desert with Jesus.  Being tempted.  Hungry, weary, worn.

Lent is a time to remember  that this is always how things are.  At least in part.  By that I mean that we are always, in a sense, “out in the desert.”  We are the Israelites, being led to the Promised Land.  We have renounced a life of slavery (to sin) and have been made into a people.  We Christians have been called from far off and grafted onto this root of Jesse, Israel, and here we are on our journey together through life.

And we get hot.  We get worn down.  We get weary.  And we complain.  And we wonder where God is.  It seems that all we can see is the sand, and rocks, and lack of shade.  Our throats are parched.  And we thirst for the presence of God.

We get so wrapped up in thinking about all those supposed good things that we’ve left behind, that we can barely think about where we’re going.  We forget that we’re not just supposed to be growing older, but growing in our relationship with God.

So we’re in the wilderness.  But there’s a Rock there.  A fountain of water, and life, and strength, ready to nourish all of those cracked, and weary, and worn places in our lives.  But it’s up to us to take a drink.

That’s one way of understanding what happens with the woman at the well.[2]

We’re a lot like this woman also.  She’s a Samaritan.  A half-breed.  She doesn’t really fit in anywhere.  She’s not Jewish enough for the Jews, and she’s too Jewish for everyone else.  And she’s a woman.  She’s not supposed to be out in the middle of the day talking with men.  I mean, it’s the middle of the day; she’s not supposed to be out at all.

It’s hot out.  The sun is at its highest.  The daylight is at its brightest.  And here’s this woman, at the well, and Jesus is about to flood a light on all her dirty little secrets.

Jesus knows what kind of woman he’s talking to.  She’s not just a Samaritan, she’s had five husbands.  And the man that she’s with right now doesn’t even respect her enough to marry her.  She’s been used and abused, and made a few mistakes of her own, and here Jesus is talking with her.

Jesus accepts her.  Jesus knows all about this woman and he accepts her for who she is.

And she gets excited.  I mean, REALLY excited.  She leaves her water jar and runs back to town and starts telling EVERYBODY!  “I just met this prophet, okay, and he’s amazing.  He knows everything about me, and I swear I’ve never seen him before.   Yes, I mean EVERYTHING.  He knows about, you know, that stuff, and he didn’t care.  He talked with me!  He asked me to give him some water.  He asked ME to give him some water.  He asked me to drink with him!  He asked me to spend time fellowshipping with him, right there, in front of everybody, in the middle of town, in the middle of the day.  You’ve GOT to come see him.”

And, so, the people left.  They left the city, they followed this woman and came out to see him.  All these Samaritans, all these people who didn’t really fit in anywhere, came out to Jesus and believed in him because of the woman’s testimony.

Lent Reflections #2- What the Wilderness Is All About

(This is the second installment in my Lent Reflections series. Weekly (or perhaps, more frequently), we will be looking at one or more of the weekly lectionary readings and reflect upon what they have to say to us, as we take this spiritual journey towards the cross.. Please bookmark this page and check back often for future reflections. You can use the 'email' function in the side bar, as well as sign up to follow the feed. I would love to dialog with you in the comments as to how these passages speak to you during your experience this year!)

 

Exodus 17:1-7; Ps 95:9

This story in Exodus carries on the wilderness theme; this is where we started on the first Sunday of Lent (Jesus temptation-Mt 4) and where we often return during this season. The wilderness is characteristic of many things. Those that come to mind at the moment are: solitude, sacrifice, temptation, hardship, suffering... Obviously, its not the most illustrious or comfortable place to be; but, it can also be a place of spiritual learning and spiritual growth. For this to happen, however, we have to learn to cooperate. It really is a place that can make us or break us. 

Such is the case with the children of Israel. After a dramatic display of divine intervention during their departure from Egypt, they were plunged right into the heart of the wilderness (much like Jesus, right after baptism and the declaration of sonship, was driven immediately into the wilderness). And, while they had no way of knowing this at the time, they would spend much of the next 40 years there. Their experience would be indicative of all the characteristics of this place. Many would die there, they would suffer, endure isolation from the rest of the world, hardships would abound, and they would be tempted over and over again to either grumble about their circumstances or trust in God. Unfortunately, they chose the former all too often. 

The scripture before us is one of those times. A time-line of these events would probably shock you. In the relatively short time they've spent in the wilderness, they've experienced three major crisis/provision events. And, all of these involved a crisis of necessity; that is, they were needing things that they simply could not live without. There was a crisis of food, and two involving water (once, there was water but it was bitter, and then, in our text, they had no water). Obviously, you can not exist very long without the basic essentials of food and water. So, the need was certainly legitimate. 

What really does surprise me, however, is that these three events are each preceded by one thing: the people grumbled. Each and every time, the people complained and questioned the motives of both God and Moses. Over and over again, this would play out, to the point that the Psalmist said that God himself began to loathe this generation [Ps 95:10]. They exasperated God that much! 

Keeping a Holy Lent

Over the past few days, I have been reflecting on the season of Lent, and what it means for me today. Several days ago, we celebrated the second Sunday of Lent. I would not have known that if it wasn't written on the heading of our worship bulletin. As I read this, however, I thought of the many years I sat in church, the many years I conducted services, with only a passing acknowledgment of Lent, or the liturgical calendar in general. It amazes me that I really was not aware of these cyclic rhythms reflected in our annual worship calendar, and as such, was cut off from a huge portion of Christian practice that serves to enhance our understanding of what faith is and how to practically incorporate it into our lives. 


In fact, I think that this is, fundamentally, the greatest benefit in the liturgical calendar. It helps us, incrementally and pragmatically, to digest and explore the meta-narrative of scripture: the gospel story, who Christ is and what his life, death, and resurrection means to us personally. Each season, with its respective emphasis, helps us remember and live out the life of Christ in tangible ways. 


So, what does Lent represent? What is it exactly that we are doing when participate in this season? The ritual of Ash Wednesday best answers this question. (Chad Holtz wrote an excellent post on this: Getting Mud On Our Faces: Ash Wednesday and Death) I was well into adulthood before I ever participated in an Ash Wednesday service. I remember clearly getting in line, feeling the silence and having no clue what I was about to experience. As I waited, I began to notice those who had gone before me, leaving with what looked like dirt smeared on their foreheads. This was strange to me, but there was a reverence in the silence that I had never quite experienced before. Then, it was finally my turn and I stepped up before the minister and he dipped his finger in a mixture of oil and ash, using it to make the sign of the cross on my forehead. As he did, he repeated the words that I had heard by now with other participants: "from dust you came and to dust you shall return." Intrigued, I stepped away and headed to my car, those words ringing in my ear.