God Restores in the Midst of Despair
College Community MB Church, Clovis, CA
4th Sunday of Lent
March 22, 2009
Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21
Ephesians 2:1-10
Imagine the apostle Paul preaching these words to us:
You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ – by grace you have been saved – and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.
There was a time when we lived a different way of life from a different view of the world. And at some point our worldview shifted: God revealed himself to us and we were changed. We encountered the gospel, the good news that this present evil age is passing away and God has brought near his Kingdom. The ways of life that fill this world with despair and death are not the only ways. And we do not have to live them any longer. There is a power that has freed us. In the midst of despair, in the thick of deathliness, God restores. “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.”
Moses led God’s people out of despair and deathliness. They were on their way to the place where God would establish them. Yet, in the midst of the wilderness, the people began to forget the despair and deathliness of Egypt as they suffered the difficulty of their journey. As we heard in the Old Testament lesson, the people cried out: “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?” The reader’s theater elaborated on the next statement: “For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food, this God-provided manna.” Somewhere between leaving Egypt and bypassing Edom, the people began to see their journey leading not to promise, but to death. And they despaired.
Oftentimes when we are on our way to the newness God has planned for us, we fail to see the possibility of that newness. Everything around us seems to be closing in on us. What outcome could there be other than failure, further suffering, dashed hopes, death? At least in Egypt we know what to expect. Out here in the wilderness we are asked to trust, to hope – and it has been a long time since there was any hope. Are we really up for this journey? Can we really survive this road? Can things really be different? Can I be different? Can we be different?
I do not know what to do with how this story plays out. God responds to Israel’s despair by sending poisonous snakes to bite and kill them. This seems a very different response than what Paul preaches to us – God, who is rich in mercy. I will not try to excuse or resolve God’s seeming out-of-character action. And I do not know what to do with God’s response to Israel’s repentance – Moses, raise up an image of the very creature I sent to bite and kill you, and when you look at it you will be healed. Is this the practice of Egyptian sympathetic magic or the mockery of it? Is God using something they would understand from their cultural context or is he showing them – like with the Egyptian magicians and officials with the staff-turned-serpent– that he is sovereign? Egypt, its gods and its government, cannot provide for life. It produces death – via slavery and exploitation. Its theology cannot produce peace, a word Paul repeats in Ephesians, insisting that Christ is, proclaims, and makes possible peace – unity, well-being, full life. You were dead, but now you have a life of peace. Dividing walls have been broken down; reconciliation has taken place. The Israelites in the wilderness couldn’t see the way to peace, not by way of this road that God had them on. So God, in a way that may trouble us, in a way that seems scandalous, showed the people that he has power over death and power to heal and bring life.
This is not the only time God’s people have encountered God acting scandalously. You would think that Israel would be so used to being scandalized by God that by the time of Jesus, his predictions of suffering might not seem completely ludicrous . Yet even now, even 2000 years after the resurrection, I read John’s gospel and scratch my head. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” How does this make sense? Sometimes I feel a lot like Peter in Matthew’s gospel: God forbid that the Messiah should suffer and die! I might not articulate it in quite that way; I might be more apt to say, “God forbid that I follow a suffering Messiah (because that means I might have to suffer).” Pre-death and resurrection or post-death and resurrection – it makes no difference: suffering and death seems a scandalous road to life, to God’s kingdom.
Following a suffering Messiah seems a lot like wandering through the wilderness. We’ve been brought out of slavery to the ways of the world and we’ve been promised a shared life of peace. The ways of this world have been exposed as death-dealing just as the Egyptian gods and powers were exposed. And good news has been proclaimed: there is a way that leads to life. Come walk in it. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” We see this Messiah who was lifted up – on the cross, from the grave and to the heavenly places - and we are healed.
Paul reminds us that we have been lifted up with Christ. The God who is rich in mercy has shown the immeasurable riches of his grace in doing this. The first few chapters in Paul’s sermon reinforces our understanding of our identity in Christ, and in chapter four he begins to tell us what the “good works which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life” are. He talks about peace, unity, love, serving one another. I wonder if others see a power at work in us, the community of faith lifted up, that may bring healing to them. I wonder if the way to life is clear, even if it is scandalous.
What we see deeply affects us. Greg asked the question last week, “How can we be devoted to anything we cannot make an image of?” He imagined Israel’s dilemma well. Yet we see the image of God in Jesus and still struggle in our devotion. And we are called to be God’s image bearers, serving the world by inviting them, as Jesus did, into their identity as persons made in his image. When they look at us do they see the life we ask them to believe is possible? Bill reminded us two weeks ago that we are called to service, not the kind that we determine we can afford, but the kind that God knows will sweep us up into the new story in Jesus Christ. Will we, formed in our identity, practice the ways of life that heal both us and those in the world seeking restoration from despair and death? Mary Anne, on the first Sunday of Lent, spoke of the image of the rainbow, a symbol meant to challenge us to meet the future with hope. As we are on this journey, do we imagine the promise that is ahead?
I’d like to share one personal story of restoration. I lift it up to you as an image of healing and life. Some of you have spoken to me about the story I shared in the Christian Leader in January. It was my story of struggling with depression. I became severely depressed several years ago during my first year of seminary. During that time I was living in Sacramento with Sarah who was finishing her teacher credentialing program at UC Davis and beginning her first year teaching high school. Those of you who have experience teaching have firsthand knowledge of the demands of this profession, especially within the first year. She watched most of what she knew of her friend disappear and saw her friend lose the capacity to engage relationally, to work, to sleep, to eat. In the midst of a busy life she was confronted with a friend in great need. And she chose to serve, to walk alongside me every single day for the year and a half I experienced the worst of my depression. Her choice meant postponing the date she would graduate from her MA in Education program. Her choice meant radically limiting the relational energy given to students, colleagues, friends and family. Her choice meant many nights of interrupted sleep and having to do most of the household chores. I would imagine the most difficult result of Sarah’s choice was carrying the emotional and spiritual burden that comes with walking alongside someone in pain. In short, Sarah gave herself up for her friend – she went against the selfish and individualistic ways of this world, and she offered herself in service. God used her to restore me. And when I am at risk of losing hope on my life journey, God uses this moment in the story of our friendship to restore me again. Something new is possible. Peace is possible. Life is extended to us as God breaks into this world and lifts up that which heals and restores.
Indeed, God did not send the Son in the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
May we turn our eyes to the one who was lifted up for our healing and know that we are lifted up with him, called to follow him in serving a world that is enslaved to despair and deathliness, offering the good news of life and peace in his name. Amen.
College Community MB Church, Clovis, CA
4th Sunday of Lent
March 22, 2009
Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21
Ephesians 2:1-10
Imagine the apostle Paul preaching these words to us:
You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ – by grace you have been saved – and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.
There was a time when we lived a different way of life from a different view of the world. And at some point our worldview shifted: God revealed himself to us and we were changed. We encountered the gospel, the good news that this present evil age is passing away and God has brought near his Kingdom. The ways of life that fill this world with despair and death are not the only ways. And we do not have to live them any longer. There is a power that has freed us. In the midst of despair, in the thick of deathliness, God restores. “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ.”
Moses led God’s people out of despair and deathliness. They were on their way to the place where God would establish them. Yet, in the midst of the wilderness, the people began to forget the despair and deathliness of Egypt as they suffered the difficulty of their journey. As we heard in the Old Testament lesson, the people cried out: “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?” The reader’s theater elaborated on the next statement: “For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food, this God-provided manna.” Somewhere between leaving Egypt and bypassing Edom, the people began to see their journey leading not to promise, but to death. And they despaired.
Oftentimes when we are on our way to the newness God has planned for us, we fail to see the possibility of that newness. Everything around us seems to be closing in on us. What outcome could there be other than failure, further suffering, dashed hopes, death? At least in Egypt we know what to expect. Out here in the wilderness we are asked to trust, to hope – and it has been a long time since there was any hope. Are we really up for this journey? Can we really survive this road? Can things really be different? Can I be different? Can we be different?
I do not know what to do with how this story plays out. God responds to Israel’s despair by sending poisonous snakes to bite and kill them. This seems a very different response than what Paul preaches to us – God, who is rich in mercy. I will not try to excuse or resolve God’s seeming out-of-character action. And I do not know what to do with God’s response to Israel’s repentance – Moses, raise up an image of the very creature I sent to bite and kill you, and when you look at it you will be healed. Is this the practice of Egyptian sympathetic magic or the mockery of it? Is God using something they would understand from their cultural context or is he showing them – like with the Egyptian magicians and officials with the staff-turned-serpent– that he is sovereign? Egypt, its gods and its government, cannot provide for life. It produces death – via slavery and exploitation. Its theology cannot produce peace, a word Paul repeats in Ephesians, insisting that Christ is, proclaims, and makes possible peace – unity, well-being, full life. You were dead, but now you have a life of peace. Dividing walls have been broken down; reconciliation has taken place. The Israelites in the wilderness couldn’t see the way to peace, not by way of this road that God had them on. So God, in a way that may trouble us, in a way that seems scandalous, showed the people that he has power over death and power to heal and bring life.
This is not the only time God’s people have encountered God acting scandalously. You would think that Israel would be so used to being scandalized by God that by the time of Jesus, his predictions of suffering might not seem completely ludicrous . Yet even now, even 2000 years after the resurrection, I read John’s gospel and scratch my head. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” How does this make sense? Sometimes I feel a lot like Peter in Matthew’s gospel: God forbid that the Messiah should suffer and die! I might not articulate it in quite that way; I might be more apt to say, “God forbid that I follow a suffering Messiah (because that means I might have to suffer).” Pre-death and resurrection or post-death and resurrection – it makes no difference: suffering and death seems a scandalous road to life, to God’s kingdom.
Following a suffering Messiah seems a lot like wandering through the wilderness. We’ve been brought out of slavery to the ways of the world and we’ve been promised a shared life of peace. The ways of this world have been exposed as death-dealing just as the Egyptian gods and powers were exposed. And good news has been proclaimed: there is a way that leads to life. Come walk in it. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” We see this Messiah who was lifted up – on the cross, from the grave and to the heavenly places - and we are healed.
Paul reminds us that we have been lifted up with Christ. The God who is rich in mercy has shown the immeasurable riches of his grace in doing this. The first few chapters in Paul’s sermon reinforces our understanding of our identity in Christ, and in chapter four he begins to tell us what the “good works which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life” are. He talks about peace, unity, love, serving one another. I wonder if others see a power at work in us, the community of faith lifted up, that may bring healing to them. I wonder if the way to life is clear, even if it is scandalous.
What we see deeply affects us. Greg asked the question last week, “How can we be devoted to anything we cannot make an image of?” He imagined Israel’s dilemma well. Yet we see the image of God in Jesus and still struggle in our devotion. And we are called to be God’s image bearers, serving the world by inviting them, as Jesus did, into their identity as persons made in his image. When they look at us do they see the life we ask them to believe is possible? Bill reminded us two weeks ago that we are called to service, not the kind that we determine we can afford, but the kind that God knows will sweep us up into the new story in Jesus Christ. Will we, formed in our identity, practice the ways of life that heal both us and those in the world seeking restoration from despair and death? Mary Anne, on the first Sunday of Lent, spoke of the image of the rainbow, a symbol meant to challenge us to meet the future with hope. As we are on this journey, do we imagine the promise that is ahead?
I’d like to share one personal story of restoration. I lift it up to you as an image of healing and life. Some of you have spoken to me about the story I shared in the Christian Leader in January. It was my story of struggling with depression. I became severely depressed several years ago during my first year of seminary. During that time I was living in Sacramento with Sarah who was finishing her teacher credentialing program at UC Davis and beginning her first year teaching high school. Those of you who have experience teaching have firsthand knowledge of the demands of this profession, especially within the first year. She watched most of what she knew of her friend disappear and saw her friend lose the capacity to engage relationally, to work, to sleep, to eat. In the midst of a busy life she was confronted with a friend in great need. And she chose to serve, to walk alongside me every single day for the year and a half I experienced the worst of my depression. Her choice meant postponing the date she would graduate from her MA in Education program. Her choice meant radically limiting the relational energy given to students, colleagues, friends and family. Her choice meant many nights of interrupted sleep and having to do most of the household chores. I would imagine the most difficult result of Sarah’s choice was carrying the emotional and spiritual burden that comes with walking alongside someone in pain. In short, Sarah gave herself up for her friend – she went against the selfish and individualistic ways of this world, and she offered herself in service. God used her to restore me. And when I am at risk of losing hope on my life journey, God uses this moment in the story of our friendship to restore me again. Something new is possible. Peace is possible. Life is extended to us as God breaks into this world and lifts up that which heals and restores.
Indeed, God did not send the Son in the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
May we turn our eyes to the one who was lifted up for our healing and know that we are lifted up with him, called to follow him in serving a world that is enslaved to despair and deathliness, offering the good news of life and peace in his name. Amen.
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