Logan and I have been watching Season 27 of The Voice. If you know who won, don’t tell us. One of the coaches, trying to express her praise for a contestant’s voice, described it like this, “Lucia, your voice is lived in. It’s like a good pair of jeans or something. You put them on and you’re like, I know these. They fit me perfectly.”
I keep thinking about this as I reflect on our beautiful reading from Revelation this morning. There’s no old pair of jeans in this vision of a new heaven and a new earth. Instead, there’s a wedding dress, “The new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” It’s not comfortable, but it’s glorious. The divine voice declares, “See. I am making all things new.”
I’m not going to ask you to raise your hand but just consider which of these you would choose if you had a choice.
Wedding dress/suit & tie or a lived-in pair of jeans?
New or old?
Challenge or comfort?
God making all things new, at least for me, sounds really good at first. Of course, I want the day to come when mourning, and crying, and pain are no more. I want the day when even death itself passes away. Of course, I want peace, and justice, and care of creation. Of course, I want an end to war, and poverty, and reckless consumption that gives no thought to the future. But that’s going to mean some change is coming – probably even some major change on my part, change that is going to directly impact me. And I’m just not a big fan of change. Give me the old pair of jeans any day.
“See, I am making all things new.” But what if the new is really hard to accept?
A year ago, we were watching Aidan graduate, and the thought of him moving to a college ten hours away was almost impossible to imagine. Last night he arrived home for the summer. An entire academic year has gone by in a flash. Keaton will be a high school senior in the fall. How are we about to be doing this all over again, I ask myself. Change. Constant change.
I’m sure you could make a long list of all the changes you’ve experienced in recent years. Even when change is for the better, it’s hard; isn’t it? You have to put on this new reality, and you’re like, I don’t know this. This doesn’t fit me. At least not yet. Give me back my comfortable, lived-in past. It was hard, too, but at least I knew it.
Just before he changed into an entirely new future, Jesus shared a meal with his disciples and then knelt down to wash their feet. The leader became the servant; the teacher became the friend. It was a hard change for the disciples to accept. And then it got even harder. Their long-expected king ascended not to the throne but to his cross, leaving his disciples with a new commandment – to love one another. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Know this life of love; put it on and wear it day after day. And everyone will know you as disciples of the embodied, incarnate, irrepressible divine love that is making this whole world its home.
Okay. I’m going to shift from The Voice to Americal Idol (years ago). I imagine God singing the Phillip Phillips song Home to all of us who are trying to live into a future that just doesn’t fit us quite yet.
Hold on to me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road. And although this wave is stringing us along, just know you’re not alone, cause I’m gonna make this place your home.
Settle down; it’ll all be clear. Don’t pay no mind to the demons; they fill you with fear. The trouble, it might drag you down. If you get lost, you can always be found. Just know you’re not alone, cause I’m gonna make this place your home.
“See, the home of God is among mortals” – among you. You who are moving. You who are mourning. You who are wondering what all this will amount to. You who are unsure. You who are afraid. You who are yearning for clarity and a clear way forward. You who are graduating. You whose life is changing. You who can’t imagine what your life is going to be like. You whose path is leading somewhere you cannot see and do not know. You are known by God and never alone.
God is making this unfamiliar road your home. Soon, you will know this lived-in future, where mourning, crying, pain, and even death will be no more, and it will fit you –and all creation – perfectly. But even now, on the way, in this Easter season of surprising change and unimaginable new life, God knows you, loves you, and is with you every step of the way. Amen.