5th Sunday in Lent
April 7, 2019
I’ve
shared a little bit before about my call to serve God in Nicaragua and how from
there God called me back to the States and to seminary and to become a
pastor. Well, when I first got sick and
the rheumatoid arthritis had inflamed so many of my joints that I was put on
bedrest, my country director, Kim, was out of the country. I’d shared with her, as had my colleagues,
about how bad it was and how many people, both Nicaraguans and Americans, were
advising me to return to the U.S. But
Kim hadn’t seen me or talked with me in person yet. And it wasn’t that she doubted the severity
of the disease, it was that simply having an illness doesn’t necessarily mean
you pack your bags up and move. Many
missionaries stay in the mission field with a variety of diseases. The difference for me was that through the
arthritis, God was calling me to leave Nicaragua and return home. The difference was God speaking this verse we
read in Isaiah to me, “Look! I’m doing a
new thing!” Before approving my early departure, Kim asked me to meet with
Joel, a fellow American missionary, although serving with a different mission
agency. Joel had also developed a
chronic disease, something similar to my arthritis, I think, during his time in
Nicaragua, and had stayed on and worked through it and figured out how to treat
it there. We shared our stories, and I
had one question for Joel, which was to ask if in the onset of his disease God
had told him God was about to do a new thing.
Joel said no. And that was the
difference for me. I didn’t end my time
in Nicaragua early because folks advised me to, or because I could get better
health care in the U.S. I left before my
contract ended because God said God was about to do a new thing, and when I
asked God, are you sure, and I set out three fleece tests, just like Gideon did
in the Old Testament book of Judges, God answered all three of them. God was indeed about to do a new thing, and I
obeyed and came to the U.S. I tell my husband he was like the cherry on the
top, because it was after I returned, as I was applying to seminaries, that we
started dating and got married a year later.
When
God originally spoke this word through Isaiah, it was to a people who were
being carried into exile, people being carried away from their homes by a
conquering army. The situation in which Israel found itself “is a timeless one,
not because all of us today understand the experience of exile… but rather
because we all have experienced the grim shadow of past tragedies, the way in
which those ghosts of past loss, shame, and grief swirl around us and cloud our
vision, preventing us from seeing anything but darkness and despair.”[1]
We’ve all had “sudden deaths, broken relationships, bad decisions, cruelties” done
by others or even by ourselves, or some tragedy, and “these things [can] linger
about us and hinder our ability both to see the future and to move into it.
What’s more… they cause us to doubt the promises we have received in Jesus Christ:
divine forgiveness, new life, and the love of God.”[2]
And so Isaiah reminds the people of all that God has already done for
them. God is the one who made a way through
the sea, a reference to the parting of the Red Sea when the Israelites escaped
Egypt. God is the one who can make a way
in the desert and the wilderness, providing food, manna, and water for their
survival while wandering for forty years.
God is the one who made us and will not forsake us. Yet as soon as we
get this great image of a path through the mighty waters with the army never to
rise again, God says, “No. Those are the former things. Don’t dwell on what
happened long ago or cling to things of the past.”
So
then, what do we do with the past? We
want to honor what’s come before, and we can do that faithfully. Here’s the
thing about memory, and remembering former things. Memory can be a
strength. Knowing how we got here,
remembering where we came from so that we can honor our roots and our ancestors
in the faith is a good thing. Remembering
the past can help you survive. Knowing
about past mistakes can mean you don’t repeat them in the future and can lead
to even greater future successes.[3] Memory can be our reference point for
interpreting events and life circumstances.[4]
Memory tells us who we are and helps us respect our past and how we got
here. However, unfortunately, memory can
also be a hindrance. You’ve heard of
folks who are stuck in the past? That
happens when you continue holding on too tightly to the past. Or people who view the past through
rose-colored glasses, where they only remember the good and forget the
mistakes. Clinging too tightly to a memory can cause you to misinterpret life.[5]
If someone from the 1950’s were to show up in our congregation this morning,
they’d be appalled by how many of us ladies are wearing pants, by any of us who
are wearing jeans or sneakers, and by a female preacher. They’d recognize that we’re in a church, but
they might not be sure what else is going on.
“If you hold too tightly to former things, you will not be able to
embrace new things.”[6]
There’s gotta be room for something new to spring up, much less flourish.
It’s
like when you come home from the grocery store, and you want to carry all the
groceries in at one time, and so you load up with big armfuls. Anyone else do that? Now, what happens when you get to your front
door? You have to put some of the
groceries down in order to open it, don’t you?
You don’t usually have to put all of them down, but at least one hand
has to be free to unlock and open the door.
God’s not saying forget who you are and where you came from. God’s not saying to forget the past; God says
don’t cling to it, don’t dwell on it.[7]
Keep some memories with you, and go on to the next thing. There’s gotta be room for the new. I had to leave Nicaragua to go to
seminary. In my case, I had to
physically move in order for there to be room for the new thing. So remember, “what
God has done for you before, God will do again; hold on, trust in the Lord, and
keep faith. What God has in store for you is as miraculous and satisfying as
water in the wilderness.”[8]
Instead
of the image of crossing the Red Sea escaping from Pharaoh’s army, God says,
“See, I’m doing a new thing! Now it springs up.” It’s a new image of a new
plant sprouting up from the ground.
Now, as you all well know, farmlands are
not wild. Farming is an organized activity where seeds are planted in straight
rows a set distance from each other. Animals are kept in fields that are fenced
in. So, a new plant sprouting up suggests civilization to me. Yet then God
says, “I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland. The
wild animals will honor me.”[9]
So, this new plant sprouting up is in the wilderness and the wasteland and has wild
animals around it. I don’t know about you, but it makes me wonder what happened
to civilization and why not tame animals. Why is the new thing in the
wilderness and with wild animals? Why is the new thing wild, and not tame or
organized? Why in a wasteland? Does it mean we can see it better because
there’s higher contrast between it and its surroundings? Except a new plant is
small, it can be hard to see. And if it’s surrounded by a wilderness with so
much going on, it can be especially hard to spot, like “Where’s Waldo?”
This
new thing sprouting up is in the wilderness, the wilderness of our lives, the
wilderness of Lent, the wilderness Jesus spent 40 days in before beginning his
ministry, the wilderness Israel spent 40 years wandering around in before
reaching the Promised Land. It doesn’t seem fair that to reach the Promised
Land you have to go through the wilderness. To get to Easter, you have to go
through the cross.
So
this new thing is sprouting up like a new plant, it’s small, it may be hard to
see in the wilderness. Yet God asks, “Do you not perceive it?” The question suggests
we should be able to perceive it, that
it should be obvious. Yet new things
aren't always immediately obvious or easily identifiable. New things, like new
plants, start off small and hard to see. Yet we're supposed to perceive it. Jesus
says many times, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.” It means we have to
pay close attention to be able to catch a glimpse of the new thing God is
doing. There’s a saying that the last seven words of a church are “We’ve never
done it that way before.” It’s a sentiment that means we can’t perceive the new
thing that God is doing now. Some churches won’t try a new thing, and they die.
Other churches choose to follow those seven words with: “but we can try it.” In
doing so, they become something new and God does a new thing in their midst.
We know God has done this before. God did a new thing for Israel, bringing them
out of exile. God did a new thing when God
sent Jesus into the world. God did a new
thing on the cross and in the grave. Easter was a brand new thing. God has done
this before. And we know that God has
acted in our midst before. God has acted
here in our church, before. God did a
new thing in planting this church here.
God did a new thing in the previous ministries of this church. God did a new thing when this church grew
enough to support their own pastor. God
has done all this before. We’ve seen God
do new things before. We’ve seen God make a way where there is no way, and we have
faith God will do it again. “God makes a way where there is no way, and God
leads us into a bright future that we are able neither to see nor to create for
ourselves.”[10]
This is like the refrain of the Hymn of Promise, it’s “unrevealed until its
season, something God alone can see.”[11]
One
of my favorite ways to reflect on life is by thinking about it in terms of what
liturgical season you’re in. If you’re in a season of waiting, you’re probably
in Advent, that time of waiting and preparing for Christmas. Is nothing special
going on? Then you’re in Ordinary Time, the season that goes from Pentecost Sunday
in June all the way til Advent. This church has been in Lent, a time of
pruning, a more solemn time, the season of waiting and preparing for Easter. Easter
is a new thing, yet the seeds for it are sown during Lent. We get ready for the
celebration. We have an Easter egg hunt. We hold a prayer vigil on Good Friday
and Holy Saturday keeping watch for the new thing that is coming on Easter. God's doing a new thing at Lisbon. I can
perceive that. Seeds have been sown. A small shoot is coming up. But I couldn't
describe it. I couldn't define it or narrow it down. God's doing a new thing,
making a way in the wilderness. I don't know where the way leads to, apart from
to God. I don't think I'm catching all of the markers of the way in the
wilderness. But I know God's doing a new thing here in this place, just as God
has before. Lord, give us the eyes to see and the ears to hear. Amen.
[1] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p.
124
[2] Ibid.
[3] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice,
Year C, p. 161
[4]
Ibid.
[5]
Ibid.
[6]
Ibid.
[7]
GNT and CEB translations
[8] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p.
124
[9]
Isaiah 43:19b-20a
[10] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p.
126
[11]
UMH 707
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