Thirst and Life, Part 4

Steve and I have become interested in a live Youtube feed from a bald eagles’ nest in California.  The nest belongs to a breeding pair of eagles – Jackie, the female, and Shadow, the male.  Jackie laid two eggs this year, and everyone watching the live feed has been holding their collective breath, hoping the eggs would hatch.  Last year, the egg Jackie laid did not hatch – everyone was hoping for a better outcome this year.  It’s fascinating to watch this pair of eagles care for these eggs.  They take turns on the nest, bringing food to each other.  They run potential predators away, they keep the eggs warm in the snow, they gently turn them – they haven’t given up.  

Happily, one of the eggs has hatched, and the pair is caring for their eaglet together.  But they are still caring for the unhatched egg – an egg that will probably never hatch.  The egg is much older now than the average incubation time for an egg.  We, as logical humans, know it will never hatch, but the eagles ignore logic, and keep the unhatched egg in the nest with their new eaglet.  

We live a life of sin.  We fail to love our neighbors, especially those who don’t agree with us.  We put other gods before our God.  We turn away, and we are so thirsty that we don’t even recognize what we need, even though it is offered to us in abundance.

But God doesn’t give up on us.  God is standing with us, urging us to turn around, and return.  

I found a poem by Jan Richardson this week in a book called Circle of Grace.  I think it applies.  (Note: please see the book for the text of the poem - I don't feel right about printing it here).

God is waiting for us to return.  To be fruitful.  To recognize the dryness of our lives and seek living water.  Will you seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near?  Will you return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on you? 

Will you step into the rest of your story? Will you return?

Thirst and Life, Part 3

This, the posts before it, and one that follows are from a sermon I delivered at Bethesda UMC, based on Isaiah 55:1-9 and Luke 13:1-9.

The gospel reading for today is from Luke 13:1-9.  The very first line says, “At that very time there were some present who told him…”  People were coming to Jesus and telling him news or rumors out of Jerusalem.  They told about Galileans who Pilate ordered to be killed while they were in the temple worshipping God with their sacrifices.  

When you hear this scripture, did you wonder, “Why did they tell Jesus this story?”

Did they just want to make sure he was well informed? Or could it be that they hoped he would take a political stand?  Maybe they were zealots who hoped Jesus would support their revolutionary agenda against Rome.  Maybe they were looking at someone else, assuming the other person had sinned, and they were hoping Jesus could tell them what those people had done to deserve such a fate, so that they themselves could feel safer. 

Sometimes seeing someone else’s sin makes us forget our own.

But Jesus won’t get involved in the political debate.  He won’t point fingers at Rome or at Pilate.  And he didn’t accuse the other people – the ones who had died, or the ones who had killed them, of sin.  Instead, he says, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?  No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

They are looking in the wrong direction.  They are looking away from themselves.  And Jesus says, “You are the ones who needs to repent.”  

And then he tells them the rest of the story.  He tells them a parable about a fig tree that isn’t producing figs.  A man had planted a fig tree three years ago.  It has not been fruitful, so the man tells the gardener to cut it down.  Everyone listening to the story would have understood the man’s request – three years is long enough to wait for the fig tree to bear fruit.  But the gardener convinces the owner to give the tree one more year.  The gardener is going to nurture the tree, put manure on it, give it one more chance.  

But what stops us from recognizing our own sin, our own thirst, and our need of God’s grace? One commentator I read said the clue may be in the treatment the gardener suggests for the fig tree – he plans to dig around it and put manure on it.  The commentator suggests that we should read “manure” as humility – there is nothing much more humble than manure, is there?

When Josh was in elementary school, he brought his class picture home.  The picture showed him with his arm bent, posed for the camera.  He insisted that his arm hadn’t been held like that when they took the picture.  If you asked him today – at 25 years old – he would still insist that his arm had been held different – all evidence to the contrary.  

We are proud.  We can be arrogant.  We certainly don’t want to be wrong.  We all, I think, close our minds even to what God might be trying to tell us.  

We love to tell the latest gossip, share the Facebook post that we agree with, even while not seeing if it is true. We insist we are right, because anything else would require humility.

But there is more to the story.

Perspectives: Her Hardware

Have I shown you this before?  I mean, really?  And what really bothered me about it, beyond the pure sexism of it, is that when I posted it on FaceBook, less than half those who responded were insulted by it.

Her hardware?

Thirst and Life, Part 2

This, the post before it, and ones that follow are form a sermon I delivered at Bethesda UMC, based on Isaiah 55:1-9 and Luke 13:1-9.

The scripture we heard today from Isaiah was written to the Israelites after the fall of Judah.  They were in exile in Babylon.  For them, God had always been in Jerusalem.  The temple was the only place of worship. The temple in Jerusalem was where God dwelled.  And here they are, far from home, far from what they had always known, and, perhaps, as far as they were concerned, far from God.  Maybe, at this point, they were even doubting that God existed, or at least they were unsure if God cared what happened to them. They were in a desert.  Literally, and figuratively.  They were thirsty, and they were trying to quench that thirst with whatever they could find.   Isaiah tells them that God is asking, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?”

Then Isaiah tells them the rest of the story.

Isaiah tells them that God isn’t absent – they just need to turn around: “Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.”

I like how one commentator put it: Isaiah tells them, “Hey, stop it.  Whether or not you are thirsty, whether or not you are hungry, you need what God has to give.”

Think for a moment about the desert in which we live, for surely we do live in a desert, even in our lush mountains.  We live in a time that is highly commercialized, where everything is marketable.  We are bombarded with commercials telling us what we need in order to live a happy life. 

We live in a time when even as Christians, we stand in opposition to each other, seeing so many people as the enemy, instead of seeing them as beloved children of God, beautiful to behold.  We see Republican or Democrat, liberal or conservative, rich or poor, employed or not, addicted or clean.  We see the sinner, and we fail to realize how thirsty we are ourselves, as we strive to make our point. Or to buy the biggest car, or to have the last word, or cast the righteous judgement. 

We have turned away from what can be the rest of our story.  And that is what Lent is about – recognizing our thirst, seeing our own sin, and turning back to God.

God says to us, “Turn around.  Repent.  Look toward me instead of what you think will satisfy your thirst.  You need what I am so willing to give you so that you can live.”

Thirst and Life, Part 1

This, and the posts that follow it, are a sermon I delivered today at Bethesda UMC

You may remember, if you have been part of Bethesda UMC for a few years, that you had a pianist for a few months in 2015-2016, who was named Josh Matthews.  Josh is our son.  I thought today I would tell you the Rest of the Story (as Paul Harvey used to say). 

Josh finished his undergraduate degree at Marshall and then moved to Tuscaloosa. Alabama to do his graduate work at the University of Alabama, which leads me to say something I never imagined I would say: Roll Tide. 

Anyway, he worked with the Million Dollar Band as a graduate assistant and earned his Masters degree in Music Education.  His next goal was to find a job as a music teacher, and he did.  In the late spring early summer of 2020, he accepted a position as an assistant band director at Green Valley High School in Henderson, Nevada.  Henderson is a neighboring community to Las Vegas.  And in case you don’t know, they are both in the desert.  The hot desert.

So, in July of 2020 – in the middle of a pandemic – in the middle of a hot summer - Steve and I drove to Tuscaloosa, helped Josh pack up his moving truck, and began our four day, three vehicle caravan across the country to Nevada.  It was great – we enjoyed the time together, saw beautiful scenery – beauty that is so different from our West Virginia Hills. 

At noon on our last travel day, we pulled into Henderson, got the keys to his apartment, and started unpacking the truck.  It was 106 degrees.  And there was no shade.  And his apartment is on the second floor.  And Josh owns the heaviest couch in the country.  And it had to be carried up 19 steps, and a hillside.  In the 106 degree sun.

They say it is a dry heat. As if that is something different from a wet heat.  It is.  What I discovered is that a dry heat is just as hot as any other heat – but you are much more thirsty.

Steve is a long-distance bike rider.  When he is preparing for a ride, he doesn’t start drinking when he’s riding the bike.  He starts drinking water before the ride – to prepare for what is to come.  When you’re thirsty, you’re already dehydrated. 

Our need for water as living beings is just as fundamental as our need for oxygen or food.  Water keeps us alive, and thirst is our body’s warning sign to us we are dehydrated and that we need water. 

The problem is, sometimes, that we don’t even recognize our thirst, do we?  

 

Perspectives: Sunset

 

Look. Listen.

Inspired by Isaiah 55:1-5

Look.  Listen.

What are you searching for?

Come here, and find it.

Do you feel poor in spirit? Poor in life?

Your poverty doesn't matter.

Your money doesn't matter.

Your heart can be filled.

Come here, and live.

You give yourself

to what will not fill your spirit.

You cheat yourself

of what you have been given

by grace.

Look. Listen.

Come close to God.

Listen to God's life giving, nourishing words.

Here is what you are searching for.

And God says,

I make an everlasting covenant with you.

I offer you steadfast loyalty.

I love you like I loved David.

Remember him?

I offer you the same promise.

I will be your God.

You will be my people.

Look. Listen.

Come close and live.

Count the Stars

 He (God) brought him (Abram) outside and said, "Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be."  And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness.  Genesis 15:5-6 

I like to envision this scene.  Abram is doubting.  He cannot understand how God could accomplish what God has promised.  God - who must be used to doubting humans by now - takes Abram outside and has him look up at the uncountable stars.  "Count the stars, if you are able to count them."  Of course, Abram wouldn't have been able to count them.  I imagine this as a clear night, unlike any clear night most of us are used to.  Desert, no light pollution, no trees in the way - countless stars.  "So shall your descendants be."

In other words - "You can't imagine how I, God, can do what I have promised.  Really, what you can't imagine, is how wonderful the results of my promise will be."

Do we ever do that? Do we get so caught up in the doubt that we fail to imagine the wonder of the result?

Perspectives: Mossy

 What do you see when you walk in the woods?  Parker saw this mossy formation.

Look to the Heavens

He (God) brought him (Abram) outside and said, "Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be."  And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness.  Genesis 15:5-6

Have you ever had an experience like this? Have you ever needed some kind of reassurance from God and found it in God's creation?  Abram looks up at a sky he has seen every night of his life, and in it he sees the results of God's covenant.

I remember when I was young - elementary school aged, I think.  My grandmother was sick, and we had to rush her from West Virginia to Virginia for treatment.  We spent the night awake at the hospital.  Near sunrise, I went outside to check on our dog, who was asleep in the car.  (I think - I'm not certain we had her with us, but it seems like we must have).  I wondered if everything would be OK. 

I saw the sunrise, and knew - as much as I could know - that it would all work out.  I've always considered that encounter with God.  I needed reassurance, and God provided.

I think when we remember those time - those encounters - they can give us comfort and assurance.  I wonder how many times Abram thought back, and remembered looking at the countless stars with God.

Mark 8:33

 Yesterday, our Sunday school lesson centered around the idea of "Who do you say that I am?" based on Mark 8:27-38. The part of that passage that has always bothered me is Jesus' rebuke of Peter. Jesus says, "Get behind me, Satan!" Is Jesus really accusing Peter of being Satan?

The Hebrew word, satan, means "accuser" or "adversary."

This phrase makes much more sense to me if the word satan is not capitalized - is not a proper name. It makes sense for Jesus to rebuke Peter by telling him that he must not tempt Jesus - that Peter must not be the adversary to the work of Jesus.

Could it be that we, as translators, have capitalized the word, making it a name instead of a noun?  

Perspectives: Path

 

An Ash Wednesday Confession

My heart is heavy with my sin,

weighed down with my disobedience,

full of regret and resentment.

Yet, even now, says the Lord,

return to me with all  your heart,

with fasting, with weeping,

and with mourning;*

The promise of joy in my life

is hidden by the worry of my sin.

I hear rumors of grace,

but do not dare to hope.

Return to the Lord, your God,

for he is gracious and merciful

slow to anger,

and abounding in steadfast love,

and relents from punishing.**

O, God, my God,

may the ashes remind me of your love

may the anointing oil

open my heart to receive your grace.

*Joel 2:12

** Joel 2:13b