Dear friends,
On this bitterly cold day (at least where I am!), may our hearts be warmed by God’s word–a word of unfailing promise for a future filled with hope.
Today’s worship service, in its entirety, may be viewed here:
If you’d prefer to listen to just the sermon, you may do so here:
Today’s sermon is based on Isaiah 40:21-31 and Mark 1:29-39.
Isaiah 40:21-31
21Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth? 22It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in; 23who brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing. 24Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown, scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth, when he blows upon them, and they wither, and the tempest carries them off like stubble.
25To whom then will you compare me, or who is my equal? says the Holy One. 26Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these? He who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name; because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing.
27Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? 28Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. 29He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. 30Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; 31but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
Mark 1:29-39
29As soon as [Jesus and the disciples] left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. 30Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. 31He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.
32That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. 33And the whole city was gathered around the door. 34And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.
35In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. 36And Simon and his companions hunted for him. 37When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” 38He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” 39And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.
Beloved of God, grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus. Amen.
I fell in love at first sight with our house.
Actually, that’s not entirely accurate. I had driven by it a number of times and dismissed it out of hand. It was too small, or so it appeared. It was on a busy road. There was hardly any yard. Etc.
But the first time I really saw it—the first time I stepped through the back door and entered into the small, dated kitchen with its one wallpapered wall and the L-shaped combination dining and living room with its many wallpapered walls, half torn-up carpet, and frilly window coverings—I fell in love and I knew this was my house.
I knew it was my future, because I could see so clearly what it could be. I could imagine it as a warm, welcoming home. And while everyone I talked to warned me about the work involved, I ran toward that work because I saw what could be with some intention and some focus and some love.
Where I get stuck, where I can grow weary, is trying to imagine what our world could be, what the church could be, what our common future could be. Can we create a warm, welcoming home for all God’s beloved? Can we tear up carpet and pull down wallpaper and put some new paint on the walls? Can we even agree to do some major remodeling, if necessary? Can we dismantle what needs to be dismantled? Can we let go of old grievances? Can we see one another as God sees us? Can we live with intention and focus and love?
That’s where it gets tricky. That’s where I find it so overwhelming… because where do we begin? How do we lead? What do we say? What do we do? How do we speak the truth in love? How do we act with conviction and compassion? How do we bring everyone along as we move into a future that is—in so many ways—beyond our imagination?
Kristin Wendland, a professor at Wartburg College, in her beautiful reflections on our first reading for this day, points out that these words from Isaiah address a tired and weary people who likely had some trouble imagining a new future. (Read the rest of her reflections here.) The people have been mentally, physically and spiritually displaced and diminished. Time spent in exile has left them questioning everything they’ve ever known. And even as they return to their homeland nothing is the same. Everything needs to be rebuilt and re-imagined. The task is beyond daunting. How will they move into the future?
How will we move into the future?
There is a future God has promised on the other side on this pandemic—an opportunity for re-birth as a global community, an invitation to build on the incredibly difficult work this time has required of us, a call to discern where God is leading this gifted, complicated, willing, messy church.
How will we have the strength to embrace the opportunity, to accept the invitation, to listen to the call when this pandemic time has so depleted us?
In our gospel reading for this day, Jesus heals first Simon’s mother-in-law and then many, throughout the city, who were sick with various diseases. He embraced the crowd that flocked to him and he cast out many demons. And in the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.
Everyone was searching him, he was still very much needed, there was still so much work to be done, but Jesus went out to a deserted place and prayed. He knew what he needed. He knew where his strength and vision came from. So he stepped away from the work; he returned to the source of his power; and then he set out again to do what he was called to do.
We, too, move into an overwhelming, beyond-our-imagination future with the power of God at work in us. The God who leads us, who casts a vision for us, is the one who continually creates security and provision out of chaos. God has named and claimed even the host of heaven, the moon and the stars. Not one of them is missing. Not one of them is lost. Neither are you lost, beloved one, named and claimed by the God of all creation.
You are not lost and you are not alone. The way forward does not depend on your own strength, on your own understanding, not even on your own capacity to lift up your weary head and look toward the horizon. The way forward depends solely on the God who continues—even now—to create a welcoming home for all creation.
And God, unlike us, does not faint or grow weary; God’s understanding is unsearchable. God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.
For weary ones who so desperately need a new future but can’t even begin to imagine it, God provides—sharing God’s power, sharing God’s strength, sharing God’s relentless commitment to healing and wholeness for all this weary world.
This pandemic has been referred to as a marathon as opposed to a sprint. And the marathon will continue, even after we can somehow mark the end of this so difficult leg of the race. So, we learn from Jesus. We forget the clock and step off the race route to breathe deeply of God’s empowering Spirit. We listen, in prayer, for God to assure us that there is indeed a future with hope. We walk through the aid stations and drink water and Gatorade offered there, the bread and the wine, the power and strength God sends to revive our wilting bodies, minds, and spirits.
I took about a three-month rest after my initial burst of energy working on our house. The vision was still there, but I was tired and my hands hurt. I simply couldn’t hold on to the scraper or the paintbrush anymore. And then, one day recently, I remembered I had purchased a heat gun to help remove some contact paper in one of the rooms. How good it felt to heat that sticky, stubborn contact paper until it peeled easily off the walls. How good it felt to make progress, to keep working toward that future vision for a warm, welcoming home.
And then, just a few days later, I was invited to be part of a conversation about climate action and, specifically, the Energy Innovation and Carbon Dividend Act. So often, in my own weariness and inability to imagine the future, I’ve felt so helpless and inept when it comes to caring for creation in the face of overwhelming climate change. But this legislation makes sense, and is do-able, and has had bipartisan support. And when it was shared with me by people who understand it and are passionate about it, who believe it to be a faithful way to work for economic and environmental justice, suddenly I, too, could imagine a better future for us all, I could see it in a way that I hadn’t been able to see it before. (Learn more about this legislation here.)
Maybe you aren’t weary at all right now. Maybe you can see beyond the bad wallpaper and the dated curtains. Maybe God is inspiring a clear vision in you right now. Lift up your voice. God is at work in you to strengthen us all as we walk this road together.
But if you are tired, beloved, and the vision is not yet clear, rest in the dark. Put down all that you’re struggling to hold. As Kristin Wendland puts it, moving forward with joy into a newly created future that one cannot yet imagine may require strength beyond what humans hold within themselves.
So rest this day, beloved one, in the assurance that the strength you need is coming from God; the power you need, the wisdom you need, the awareness and energy and compassion you need, is coming from the God who loved this world at first sight and loves it still. The very God who brings life out of chaos draws near to you. The God who makes a way in the wilderness is leading all creation home. Wait and watch as God abundantly provides us with all that we need to move into the future with joy. Amen.