Entrances

Zechariah 9: 9-10

Hebrews 10:1-18

Matthew 21:1-11

Entrances

One of the most gruesome, hopeless places in early nineteenth century England was “debtor’s prison.” Charles Dickens described it for us in his writings, but thousands of England’s poor lived it first-hand. Everything the debtor owned was confiscated. Nothing was left. If any debts still remained, debtors were imprisoned until the balance owed could be paid. This, of course, could never be because the debtor was locked up. It was a situation without hope. Once you entered a debtor prison, you were stuck, unless someone paid your debts for you. Of course, if they did, you were then indebted to them.

That was “civilized” nineteenth century England. But according to ancient Jewish law, there was a time limit on how long you could hold a person accountable for their debts. And, there were moral limits on what could be demanded in payment for debts. Among those things that were legally “off-limits” was a person’s most important piece of clothing, their “cloak.” Less substantial garments could be held as collateral. But a person’s cloak was considered to be in a category by itself. A cloak offered warmth and protection. It provided modesty, shielding nakedness. A cloak doubled as clothing and shelter, functioning as haberdashery by day and as a bedroll by night.

You could take a lot in payment for debts, but you could not take the cloak off someone’s back. But a cloak could always be OFFERED. Sir Walter Raleigh legendarily swept his cloak off his shoulders and flung it over a mud puddle so his Queen’s foot would not be dampened. In today’s gospel text cloaks were offered for theological, not meteorological reasons.

In those days, kings entered cities they conquered either riding a stallion or on a spectacular chariot. As Jesus prepared to enter into Jerusalem proper, he intentionally “changes things up.” The Galilean ministry is at an end. The time for keeping a low profile is over. It is a new messianic moment. Jesus had announced to his disciples the fate that awaited “the Son of Man” once he entered into the city of Jerusalem. As Jesus crossed into Jerusalem the Calvary cross already stood before him. He chooses to embody the image of the humble king, the meek Messiah, riding on a small and simple donkey.

The Greek author Plutarch describes how kings were supposed to enter a city. He tells about one Roman general, Aemilius Paulus, who won a decisive victory over the Macedonians. When Aemilius returned to Rome, his triumphant procession lasted three days.

The first day was dedicated to displaying all the artwork and precious items that Aemilius and his army had plundered. The second day was devoted to all the weapons of the Macedonians they had captured. The third day began with the rest of the plunder, all the livestock taken, and wagons borne by 250 oxen, whose horns were covered in gold. This included more than 17,000 pounds of gold coins. Then came the captured and humiliated king of Macedonia and his extended family.

 Finally, Aemilius himself entered Rome, mounted on a magnificent chariot. Aemilius wore a purple robe, interwoven with gold. He carried his laurels in his right hand. He was accompanied by a large choir singing hymns, praising the military accomplishments of the great Aemilius. That is how a king was supposed to enter a city in those days.

But the King of Kings? He entered riding on a lowly donkey. If he had consulted his political advisors, they would have been aghast. What was he up to? Leaders are supposed to project strength and power.

When Jesus emerged on the public scene he was an overnight sensation. Great crowds came to hear him preach. A wave of religious expectation swept the country. He would try to go off to be alone and the people would still follow him.

On Palm Sunday the masses lined the streets as he entered Jerusalem. Leafy palm branches waved as symbols of freedom, and cloaks were spread before him, and there were shouts of Hosanna. In shouting “Hosanna” they were in effect saying “Save us now” Jesus. They expected this miracle performing man to perform the greatest miracle of all—drive out the Romans and restore Israel as a great power.

But the cheering did not last for long. There came a point when the tide began to turn against him. Oh, you didn’t notice it so much at first. People still came to see him, but the old excitement was missing, and the crowds were not as large as they had been. His critics now began to publicly attack him. That was something new.

Earlier the Pharisees and Sanhedrin had been afraid to speak out for fear of the masses, but they began to perceive that the fickle public was turning on him. Soon the opposition began to snowball. When they discovered that they could not discredit his moral character, they began to take more desperate measures. Before it was all over a tidal wave welled up that brought Jesus to his knees under the weight of a cross.

Why did the masses so radically turn against him? How did the shouts of “Hosanna” on Sunday transform into the shouts of “Crucify” on Friday? I am not just talking about the immediate events that may have brought it about, but the deeper root causes. What were the underlying issues? In five days it all fell apart. Why? Why did the cheering stop?

Jesus did not turn out to be the avenging king the Hebrew people wanted. He did not perform a great miracle against the Romans. Instead, Jesus began to talk more and more about commitment. He dared to suggest that all people are worth loving, ever perhaps the Romans, the hated enemy. And, Jesus began to talk more and more about a cross. The cross was a hated symbol of Roman oppression and for Jesus to talk about having to pick up a cross to follow him brought raw emotion to the surface for those who had seen the horrible crucifixions to which the Roman’s subjected people.

"Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem. Behold, your king comes to you. He is just and he brings salvation. He comes as the lowly one, riding upon an ass, upon a colt, the foal of an ass." Jesus entered Jerusalem with obedience and humility, not in a chariot, or on a stallion. He entered Jerusalem on a donkey. Symbolically his back is already bared, readied for the cruelties and sacrifices that await him.

In our lives we make all kinds of entrances. We enter kindergarten and become so independent of our parents. We enter college with dreams and hope. We enter a new job with anticipation. We enter marriage with expectations. We enter life itself, vulnerable--helpless--and in need of love and care, without which we cannot survive. When we come to the end of our life here on earth, what will be our entrance into God's presence?

One festive day Jesus had cloaks laid on the ground ahead of him—the one item that could never be required to fulfill a debt. Five days later many of these people required his life be given up because he did not fulfill their requirements. They felt he owed them a debt and had to give his life for it.  He gave his life, and in so doing asked for their forgiveness. He did pay their debt. And ours.

We need to ask ourselves these questions: Where would we have been on that day when Jesus entered Jerusalem? Would we have laid our cloaks in front of him? Would we have been shouting “Hosanna”?  Then, where would we have been five days later. What would we have shouted then?

Jesus does not want our accolades. If we notice in these days of Holy Week a close brush with the divine grace of God, that he is passing near, let us make room for him in our souls. Let not just spread on the ground  palm or olive branches; let us put our hearts there. Let us be humble. Let us be willing to give everything, even our life itself, to follow Jesus. This is the homage Jesus expects from us.

  

Amen

Did Jesus descend into hell or to the dead?

A UMNS Feature
By Heather Hahn*

7:00 A.M. EST April 22, 2011

A fresco painting from the late Middle Age by Giotto di Bondone depicts the Crucifixion. On Good Friday, Christians around the world reflect on the meaning of Jesus’ suffering and death. A web-only public domain image.

 

“He descended into hell.”

That’s one possible explanation of what Jesus did between Good Friday and Easter.
For more than a millennium, Christians have uttered some version of that phrase as part of the Apostles’ Creed. And for nearly just as long, theologians have wrestled with what the phrase means or whether it should be included in the creed at all.

Early Methodist hymnals omitted the phrase altogether. The 1989 United Methodist Hymnal includes the likely more accurate translation, “He descended to the dead,” and mentions “descended into hell” only as a footnote.

But including any mention of descent in the creed says something about how Christians over the ages have come to understand God’s saving work, say church scholars.

“It means there is no part of human existence to which Christ did not ‘descend,’” said the Rev. J. Warren Smith, associate professor of historical theology at United Methodist-related Duke Divinity School in Durham, N.C. “It’s what it means for Christ to take upon himself ... the punishment of sin, which is death. If Christ really dies, then that means he (journeys) all the way to the place of dead.”

What the Bible says

The Bible offers no clear answer on how Jesus spent the day and a half or so between his death and Resurrection, says the Rev. Ben Witherington III, a blogger at Beliefnet.com and New Testament professor at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Ky. However, that didn’t stop some early Christians from speculating and gleaning from Scripture all they could.

One big concern for the early church — and Christians to this day — is what happened to the Old Testament patriarchs and others who never knew of Christ. A whole mythology arose about Jesus rescuing people from the netherworld after the crucifixion. The Gospel of Nicodemus, which dates to the third century and did not make the Bible cut, offers a narrative of Jesus retrieving Adam and other Old Testament figures from Satan’s clutches.

Smith describes such imagery to his students as “Christ’s commando raid on hell.” In addition, it was a popular subject for medieval artists.

 “What is going on here is Christian reflection on the doctrine of salvation only in Christ, and then trying to figure out where does that leave people who a) haven’t heard about Christ or b) who lived before Christ,” Witherington said.

That is a question that remains a source of debate for modern Christians. Yet some early theologians have cited a biblical basis for the phrase “descended to the dead” or “descended to hell.” 1 Peter 3:19-20 offers a cryptic reference to Christ after death preaching “to the spirits in prison who formerly did not obey when God’s patience waited in the days of Noah … .”

“The Descent to Hell,” a tempera on panel by Duccio di Buoninsegna from around 1308, shows Jesus freeing Adam and other Jewish patriarchs from hell. The man with the bright golden crown and red robe is King David. A web-only public domain image. 

 

Some theologians have interpreted this as Christ releasing Old Testament figures held captive by death. Witherington disagrees. He sees the passage as a clear allusion to the fallen angels who in Genesis 6 married humans in the days before Noah. “He’s declaring victory over the fallen angels on the way to heaven,” Witherington said. “This is after the Resurrection.”

Ephesians 4:7-10 also speaks of Christ ascending on high with a host of captives and insists that Christ also descended to “the lower parts of the earth.” Just as with the passage in 1 Peter, interpretations of what this means have varied wildly. Smith reads it as an allusion to Sheol, the Old Testament abode of the dead.

The creed and John Wesley

The Apostles’ Creed, which Roman Catholics and most Protestants use, first developed as an outline of faith for Christian converts to recite during baptisms at Easter. The earliest known  version of it dates back to fourth-century Rome, and it finally took written form in A.D. 800, said the Rev. Barry E. Bryant, associate professor of Wesleyan and United Methodist studies at United Methodist–related Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in Chicago.

By the eighth century, the Apostles’ Creed included the Latin phrase “descendit ad inferna,” which literally means 'he went down to the lower regions' and does not necessarily refer to the realm of eternal punishment.
Methodism’s founder John Wesley sent mixed signals about the creed to American Methodists, Bryant said. Wesley removed Article III from the Anglican Articles of Religion, which read, “As Christ died for us, and was buried, so also is it to be believed, that he went down into Hell.”

Yet he kept “he descended into hell” as part of morning and evening prayers, and “he went down into hell” as a part of the baptismal liturgy, Bryant said.

John Deschner's book “Wesley's Christology” says that because Jesus told the thief on the cross that the thief would be with Jesus in paradise (Luke 23:43), Wesley's view was that Jesus was in "paradise" between his death and his Resurrection.

By 1792, American Methodists dropped the phrase altogether from worship. The phrase “descended to the dead” returned in the 20th century. The ecumenical movement among Protestants and Catholics encouraged United Methodists and others to re-embrace traditions of the early church.

Comforting words

Many Christians over the centuries have found comfort in the creed’s reference to the descent into hell, said Philip Clayton, a theology professor and administrator at United Methodist-related Claremont School of Theology. “What God has done in Christ needed to be known to the entire universe,” Clayton said.

“When I recite this in church, I think there is just no place where the encompassing love of God can’t be present.”
— Philip Clayton.

For early Christians, Christ’s redeeming death and Resurrection needed to be proclaimed in the realm of the dead, just like everywhere else. “To those in hell, his presence showed the final triumph of God, so that they would know they had chosen the wrong side,” Clayton said. “And for those who could still turn, Christ’s descent was a chance for them to do so.”

Clayton, though, thinks this interpretation is a bit limiting of God. For him, the line “he descended into hell” is a reminder of God’s presence even in the darkest and most anguished of places. “When I recite this in church, I think there is just no place where the encompassing love of God can’t be present,” he said. “There is no place where God is afraid to go.”

And that is a hopeful reminder during the darkness of Good Friday as Christians wait for the joy Easter brings.

*Hahn is a multimedia news reporter for United Methodist News Service.
News media contact: Heather Hahn, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org

Jesus' Last Day

Apr 19, 2011 2 comments Spiritual Life

Setting the scene: Jesus' last day

By Adam Hamilton

When we think of the final day of Jesus’ life, it is easy to imagine his suffering.  Mel Gibson and a host of others have helped us visualize it in ways the Gospel writers only hint at.  What is harder for some is to see themselves in the story.  When I wrote 24 Hours That Changed the World, my aim was to see myself in each scene, and to help readers see themselves in each scene as well.

All of us can find ourselves in the story if we’ll look closely. Join me for a quick journey through those 24 hours, and try imagining yourself in each scene.

At the Last Supper, 12 disciples enter a room to eat supper with Jesus.  Each passes by a basin of water near the door, left there by the owner of the home so Jesus and his guests could wash their feet. Why do they ignore it?  Is it possible each is afraid that if he stops to wash his own feet, he’ll be expected to wash the feet of the others?  None of them wants to be put in the position of a servant washing a fellow disciple’s feet.  In fact, that night, what is foremost on the minds of some disciples is which of them is the “greatest” (Luke 22:24).  How I identify with those disciples as their egos get the best of them!  And how easy it is to imagine their shame when Jesus gets up from the table, lifts the basin, and begins to wash their feet.

Before the evening is through, Judas has gone to betray Jesus for 30 pieces of silver, a month’s wages.  It isn’t only greed that motivates Judas.  Perhaps his feelings had been hurt when Jesus publicly chastised him.  Perhaps his expectations of what Jesus would do have not been met.  In a moment of weakness, and for a month’s wages, Judas is willing to betray Jesus.  I’ve been Judas, and so has nearly everyone I know.  For some, it’s money that lures them away.  For others, it’s sex.  Sometimes, it’s a desire for freedom.  And sometimes, disappointment with an unmet expectation of God makes it easier to walk away.  Yes, I’ve been Judas.

Jesus is arrested late that night in the garden.  He is taken for trial before the religious leaders.  These are the priests, biblical scholars, and great teachers of their day.  All claim to love God, but they don’t love this man.  He has challenged their theology, blurred the lines between sinner and saint, and said things they consider blasphemous.  How do religious people respond when someone challenges their convictions?  We often question, judge, and then seek to silence the challengers.  We call them names such as “fundamentalist” or “socialist” or “heretic” or “apostate.”  We sentence them to damnation of one sort or another.  Yes, I see myself in the religious leaders who, threatened by this man whose teachings challenge their fundamental convictions, condemn him.  Can you see yourself there?

As Jesus stands trial before the Sanhedrin, Peter waits in the courtyard of the high priest, surrounded by people who aided in Jesus’ arrest. Three times Peter is asked whether he is a follower of Jesus. Three times he denies it.  He’s afraid of what might happen to him if, in this hostile environment, he admits he is a follower of Jesus.  How many times have I remained silent when others acted unjustly, too afraid to speak out for fear of how many would leave the church or no longer like me?  I’ve been Simon Peter at his worst.

At dawn, Jesus is taken to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor charged with administering justice.  Pilate finds him not guilty of a capital offense.  Yet the crowd of merchants, priests, and rabble repeatedly calls for his death.  Pilate, “wishing to satisfy the crowd,” washes his hands of an innocent man’s blood and sends Jesus to be abused and then crucified.  How often have we, like Pilate, done what we knew was wrong because we wished to “satisfy the crowd”?  Yes, I see myself in Pontius Pilate.

Jesus is taken to be abused at the hands of a Roman cohort of soldiers – 300 to 600 men.  They strip him, mock him, crown him with thorns, and strike him repeatedly.  Somehow the hate begets hate. Surely some in the crowd know this is wrong.  But no one speaks out.  I have a difficult time seeing myself among these abusers, though at moments I’ve felt hatred for those I saw as enemies.  I feel more akin to those soldiers who stand by, knowing that what they are doing is wrong but too afraid to speak out.

As Jesus is crucified, those passing by deride him. The religious leaders mock him. Even the thieves being crucified on either side taunt him. Jesus hangs from the cross bleeding, naked, and dying, yet there is no compassion — only the cruelty of words meant to break his spirit. Despite it all, Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”  Before long one of the thieves stops his curses and says, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”  Jesus turns to the thief and replies, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”  I want to be that thief on the cross.  Like the thief, I’ve strayed many times from God’s path.  And, like the thief, when I’ve finally seen Jesus’ mercy and love, I want to put my hope in him.

Where do you find yourself in the story? Do you identify more closely with the actions of the disciples, the religious leaders, the Roman authorities, the soldiers, the crowd, or those passing by?

The last 24 hours of Jesus’ life make a compelling case study in the human condition. In that one day, we see greed, betrayal, fear, self-preservation, abandonment, denial, pride, jealousy, anger, rage, mockery, and cruelty.  The Sanhedrin think they are putting Jesus on trial, but is it not humanity that is on trial here?  The righteous, the powerful, even the disciples are all found wanting.  On the cross, humanity is shown to be guilty, but the Son of Man, before whom all humanity one day will stand, suffers in our place.  The judge of the “quick and the dead” gives himself for the human race.  There, on the cross, he holds up a mirror to our souls; and then, lowering the mirror, he shows us the depth of God’s mercy and love.

This is the most compelling, disturbing, redemptive, and hopeful story ever told.  It demonstrates to us the truth about humanity and, even more importantly, the truth about God.  It points to what is broken in us, and to God’s work to save, redeem, and deliver us.  But, when Jesus’ body is taken down from the cross and placed in the tomb, the story is not finished….

Adam Hamilton is founding pastor of the United Methodist Church of the Resurrection in Leawood, Kansas.

Ribbon: 

Perspective

Enjoy this beautiful music

http://www.clarrissegill.com/videoclips/amazing_grace.php

Small Churches Moving Forward

BloomBytes

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

UMNS reporter Linda Bloom UMNS reporter Linda Bloom

Connecting as one to achieve a miracle

In the district that the Rev. Joseph Bishman oversees in southern Ohio, just at the edge of Appalachia, only two of the 159 United Methodist churches are what he would call “fiscally sound congregations.”

That’s a polite way of acknowledging the economic reality of the Shawnee Valley District, part of the West Ohio Conference. In two of the district’s counties, for example, the average income is only $18,500.

Still, while neither the churches nor their members would seem to have a dollar to spare, United Methodists there have miraculously raised nearly $650,000 over the past few years to support church planting half a world away in Vietnam.

That success, Bishman believes, started with a decision to regard the entire district as one large congregation, creating a sense of connection beyond the requirements of the denominational structure. The goal was to get them to move a mountain “one shovel, one basket, one cart at a time.”

After interviewing Bishman and hearing him speak at the recent Board of Global Ministries meeting, I have to wonder: is the idea of bringing together a whole district as if it is one congregation another possible way to address the rural church crisis in our denomination?

UMNS has spent considerable time looking at rural churches over the past year. Although such congregations still view themselves as the backbone of The United Methodist Church, on a practical level many are struggling to maintain old buildings, pay pastors and serve their communities with an aging, shrinking membership.

More significantly, many members of rural or small town churches are feeling abandoned by those in denominational leadership – from district superintendent to bishop to national agency staff. A 2010 survey conducted by the United Methodist rural fellowship showed these congregations are seeking encouragement and affirmation from the larger church to show their ministry is still valued.

Models to help renew rural churches are being implemented in some cases– I saw how a combined parish of five churches in northwestern Ohio seems to be working – but it’s not a one-size-fits-all proposition. Maybe the idea of the one-congregation mindset for a district of small churches would be a good fit in some conferences.

In the Shawnee Valley, that concept has led to a unique form of connectionalism that seemed to be missing before. And it supports what rural experts say is necessary for any congregations hoping to survive into the future: the ability to look outside themselves and be a mission presences in their communities.

Even communities on other continents.

A prayer for those caught in tragedy

Disaster Prayer

In the past few years we have seen, by virtue of television, tremendous natural disasters that have taken the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, young and old, rich and poor. The lives of their surviving families, friends, neighbors, have been changed forever, some tragically even though they still live. People caught in power beyond their control. The huge tsunami of Southeast Asia that killed hundreds of thousands in that one terrible motion of water alone. Katrina and the other hurricanes that have hit us here in our own country. More recently tornadoes and flooding here in the US. The devastating earthquake that hit Haiti that has left thousands still in tents. And just a few short weeks ago another huge earthquake and tsunami that swept away the lives of thousands in Japan, with after effects still being felt.

We shed tears for a short time for such awful events, and say quiet sighs of relief that it has not been us.

But how quickly we forget as we get caught up in the news of revolutions and war. How quickly we forget as we get caught up in the news of political turmoil and bickering. How quickly the images of natural disaster fade as images of human childishness, folly, greed, anger, hatred, oppression—human-created tragedy--take their place on our television screens.

This week, I watched the Ken Burn’s documentary on the Civil War, a human-caused tragedy that began 150 years ago that took over 630,000 lives in just 4 short years, and left thousands more surviving but changed forever. It is especially terrible to realize that over the centuries far more people have died as a result of human-caused tragedies than by wind and waves and earthquakes. In the few short months since a congresswoman was shot in Arizona and others with her were killed, nearly 3000 people have been gun downed in our country alone.

How quickly we forget the continuing suffering from those natural disasters-- forgetting that even as Japan’s land still quakes, here in our own nation there are those still struggling from Katrina.

What prayer can we say at such a time, when thousands upon thousands, ten thousands upon thousands are missing — bodies never to be retrieved, families never to be reunited?

What prayer might make a difference to those survivors who remain in the wake of disasters?

So often we have been taught to pray to change things, to make a difference to stop a tragedy. But when the tragedy has already come, how do we pray?  We can only try.

In our prayer for the victims and survivors, let us not narrow our compassion for all who suffer, whatever their profession or creed; let no hatred or prejudice enter our hearts for anyone.

Let us pray for all those affected by the earthquakes and the tsunami; for the children, for the young people, for the parents, grandparents and relatives, those lost and those surviving.  Let us pray for those involved in the attempts to restore, to relieve suffering, and to bring aid. Let us pray for the global community, for the leaders of church, cities, and nations — that together we might work for the greater  good and find new levels of compassion through cooperation.

Called by the Holy Spirit to unity, you call us God to enter into the suffering of your children, repenting of our ignorance, refusing to be silent or passive, ready to respond in Christian love to those in every nation where there is need.

On this day, our prayer is one of remembrance: We remember that those who perished are More than numbers, More than statistics, More valuable than sparrows; Each was a person of sacred worth created in the image, oh God.

We read in the scriptures the words of your Son, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29-31)

In the aftermath of one of the most terrible tragedies that any of us can remember, we are comforted by the knowledge that you, Almighty God, who knows when a sparrow falls to the ground also knew and loved each of those who died, and you weep with all those who are suffering.

On this day we lift our prayer for all who survived, those who lost loved ones and face the terrible responsibility to keep on living in the midst of death, to keep on loving in the midst of loss, to find a way to have a funeral in the midst of chaos — when the bodies of loved ones may never be recovered.

In the aftermath of this tragedy, we find comfort in the knowledge that no child of yours, oh God, is unknown and that no child of yours is alone. Therefore we pray with confidence for those who survive, children without parents, parents without children, spouses missing, loved ones lost, families torn apart.

Today, we pray for ourselves and all those with power to help —those individuals, churches, cities and nations entrusted with the resources needed to relieve suffering, sustain life and rebuild the property that has been destroyed.

God of mercy, we seek forgiveness for the shallowness of our reaction to the natural disasters, our forgetfulness. We especially seek forgiveness for the tragedies caused by human intolerance, human greed, human hatreds. We seek forgiveness for our complacency and complicity in such human-caused grief.

God, we pray for eyes that are open to see what Jesus sees, ears that are open to truly hear, hearts that are open to love as Christ loved, and lives that respond to our neighbor and the least of these who are members of your family.

Loving God, we remember that we are stewards of the manifold resources you have entrusted to us.  We are people who belong to families, churches, cities and nations just like those who perished. With their friends and families we pause to give thanks that you gave them life and that you loved them. We give you thanks that in this present moment we are not entirely helpless—we believe that prayer does make a difference.

Gracious God, guide our prayer, open our hearts and empower our acts of compassion and justice that suffering might be relieved, villages rebuilt, and lives restored. Bless our acts of obedience that in some small way, we might be used to restore hope, and increase faith, and widen the pathway to peace — as we offer our prayer in the name of your Son, our Savior, the Prince of Peace.

Amen.

 

Wilderness

Deut 8:3, Deut 6:13, and Deut 6:16

Hebrews 4:15

Matthew 4: 1-11

Wilderness

Have you ever felt lost in the wilderness? Stuck in the dry, barren places of life – searing heat or biting cold – the howling wind surrounding you – or maybe just the lonely emptiness of silence blanketing your soul like a shroud? Have you ever felt driven by God to a place deep within yourself that causes you to wonder about God's purpose for you – the reason for your existence? Have you struggled to understand who and what God has called you to be? If so – if in even the slightest way these thoughts seem familiar to you – I think you've caught a glimpse of Jesus.

We used to do a lot of camping when our kids were young. We started with a tent, and spent a lot of nights with that tent, and lots of campfires. There were also a good many nights of rain in our tent.  Camping gave us a chance to really explore new places. We used our camping trips to travel all over. It also gave us many close times as a family, to learn about each other. We had a little taste of primitive living, a little wilderness experience. Our kids learned that there often could be fun even in the adversity of rain and cold.

Nowadays campers often have motor homes. A motor home allows campers to put all the conveniences of home on wheels. A camper no longer needs to contend with sleeping in a sleeping bag, cooking over a fire, or hauling water from a stream. Now he can park a fully equipped home on a cement slab in the midst of a few pine trees and hook up to a water line, a sewer line and electricity. Most motor homes even have a satellite dish attached on top. No more bother with dirt, no more smoke from the fire, no more drudgery of walking to the stream. Now it is possible to go camping and never have to go outside. People buy a motor home with the hope of seeing new places, of getting out into the world. Yet they deck it out with the same furnishings as in their living room back home. They may drive to a new place, set themselves in a new surrounding, but the most meaningful depth of the newness goes unnoticed, and unfelt, because they carry along their old setting. Nothing really changes. No more wilderness experience.

If we embrace the Lenten season, we can change. If we fully accept the love God offers us, we will change.

Jesus entered the wilderness to begin his ministry. It was a time of preparation. He began a journey to discover what God was calling him to do with the rest of his life. During the 40 days, this otherwise seemingly common mature man of perhaps 30 years of age with a trade as a carpenter grew into his God’s call, but not without pain, not without great introspection, not without great temptation. Jesus was fully human. He lived with family and friends around him, in a community that accepted him as he was, just ase we do. We have to remember that. He was not a puppet on strings. He had free will, just as you and I do.

This was not a motor home vacation—it was a time for him to exercise his human free will to chose between his former life and what God had for him, a time to strip away any barrier between him and God. It was a time for him to intentionally become vulnerable to the temptations of the world, and overcome them through faith. He left his past life behind, and surrendered to his mission fully.

There is more to the wilderness experience than temptation or testing. The wilderness is a place of transformation as well. What good does testing do for us if it doesn't lead to transformation? Somehow Jesus had to face all the plausible alternatives to God's call before he could truly give himself over to that call. Jesus had to wrestle with his fears, explore the short cuts, and ponder the all the possibilities – had to settle his own heart and soul – before he could ask others to follow. In that time apart, Jesus realized that Wilderness Time is about “becoming the change we want to see in the world and in others. And he realized that he had to be the first to change.

During the 40 days of his fast, his life was changed—it was transformed. But if you read the scripture carefully, the real test came at the end of the 40 days, when he was the most vulnerable. He was exhausted, thirsty, hungry beyond anything any of us may have ever experienced. It was then, at his weakest, he met the challenges. We read in Hebrews that he was tempted in every way we are. It was when he was weakest that he was able to become strongest. It was in facing his temptations with faith in God, not faith in himself, it was in committing himself fully to God’s will, that gave him that strength.

Jesus’ time of trial and transformation landed him smack-dab in the middle of God's hope for humanity – in the middle of God's dream for a renewed humanity, and it put him right in the middle of the pathway to Jerusalem and the cross.

Lent is a time set aside for our introspection, and preparation.  When we begin the Lenten season we are called upon to enter our own wilderness, and take a journey to learn what God wants us to do with the rest of our lives. We are called upon to become vulnerable, to see ourselves as the weak individuals we are. We can choose to accept the temptations of our everyday lives and continue as we have, or choose instead to become totally dependent upon God and follow the mission he has set for each of us.

Too many of us have a motor home approach to faith as we journey through the Lenten season. We want to venture into faith, but with all the security we think we have in our current lives. We do not want to leave our conveniences behind, so we proceed with all our baggage. The last thing we want is to become vulnerable to God, to run the risk of having our comfortable lives whisked away and instead face an unknown mission.

If we take Lent seriously, and are willing to become vulnerable to God, our Lenten journey will likely land us smack-dab in the middle of God's hope for humanity along with Jesus  – in the middle of God's dream for a renewed humanity. But it could also put us right in the middle of our own pathway to a cross. Do we have that kind of faith? Are we willing to pick up that cross to follow Jesus?

Our faith needs not only to read and hear about Jesus.  We need to experience him as a real presence in our lives. Our minds want to—need to—know for real the person about whom we are thinking or talking.

Jesus had to confront the challenge of powerful temptations. If Jesus is to be anything more than just another name, another historical mythic figure for us; if he is to become in any sense "Christ," "Savior," "Lord"; if his name and his story are to arouse in us anything like "faith," then we have to encounter him and not merely some ideas about him. Before there were ideas about Jesus there was Jesus. Before the gospels were written with their selected passages of his teachings, and before Paul’s letters to churches interpreting the meaning of those gospels and expressing his own ideas about Jesus, there was the person of Jesus who lived, and taught for 3 years before the Crucifixion. Before the Gospels were written there was the Jesus who was experienced as a real person by those to whom he preached, those he healed, those with whom he lived, and those whom he angered.

God is calling us to become the change we want to see in the world so that the world might become the place of promise God dreams for all of us to know. God calls us into the experience of Wilderness Time – that our hearts and souls – our minds and our spirits – might be tested and transformed. God calls us into the experience of Wilderness Times that we might search for our true selves – that we might begin to understand who and what God has created us to be – and that we might be more fully transformed into that life-changing reality. This Lent we must ask ourselves, how and where is God pushing us into the wilderness? How are we being tested and what is tempting us away from the compassion and grace of God? What is God calling us to become that will help the world become what God dreams it can be?

Through our encounter with the living Jesus, we become God’s hands and mouths in the world to bring God’s creative changes. Jesus is the Christ who transforms us. Jesus loves us, this we know. Jesus accepts us. But if we accept and love Jesus he will transform us, so that through us God’s love can work to transform the world.  Amen