San Williams, Presenter
Deut. 8:1-3; Romans 10:8b-13; Luke 4:1-13
"Three Words for Lent"
On this first Sunday in Lent, we begin our reflection here at these baptismal waters. It's important that we begin here, because it is at this font that God's first word is spoken to us. Everything subsequent depends on our hearing this Word, because it is the Word that gives identity, meaning and purpose to our lives. There is not the slightest hit of ambiguity or confusion in the Word sounded at baptism. It is as clear and pure as these waters are. It tells us that we are not our own, but God's. The word resounds in the deepest part of our soul, telling us that God knows our name, harbors no displeasure in us, and loves us totally, into all eternity. Baptism declares that there is a matrix of love sustaining the universe, and it is in the bond of this loving relationship with God that we live and move and have our very being.
We can make such an unequivocal statement because before he did anything else, Jesus, our representative, was baptized. Out of the waters of his baptism came the Word, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." This Word spoken at his baptism is the one Word he never forgot from the moment of his baptism through his agony on the cross. Everything Jesus thought, said and did was in response to the Word sounded at his baptism: The word that told him that He was God's beloved Son and that God was pleased with him.
The sermon continues from the pulpit.
But then, this first word for Lent is quickly followed by another, one that warns us that staying true to our baptismal life is exceedingly difficult. We read this morning that Jesus was still wet from the waters of baptism when the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness. (I'm going to let the Spirit lead me to the pulpit, which may be its own kind of wilderness.) Abraham Lincoln once said that he would only listen to a preacher in the pulpit if it looked like the preacher was fighting off a swarm of bees. I think Lincoln said that because he knew that the preacher should not make the Christian life seem easy, pleasant and smooth. It's not. It inevitably leads us to questioning, temptation and testing. If the word spoken at our baptism is a clear, unequivocal word, the word telling us that God will lead us into a wilderness of testing is full of ambiguity. Face it, it's hard to understand this second word of God.
In Nikos Kazantzakis' The Last Temptation of Christ, every time young Jesus reaches out for pleasure, "ten claws nailed themselves into his head, and two frenzied wings beat above him, tightly covering his temples. He shrieked and fell down on his face. His mother pleaded with a rabbi, who knew how to drive out demons, for help. The rabbi shook his head. ‘Mary, your boy isn't being tormented by a devil; it's not a devil, it's God—so what can I do?’ ‘Is there no cure?’ the mother asked. ‘It's God, I tell you. No, there is no cure.’ ‘Why does God torment him?’ The old exorcist sighed but did not answer. ‘Why does he torment him?’ the mother asked again. ‘Because he loves him,’ the old rabbi finally replied.”
Mary's question in Kazanzakis' book may be our question: Why does God test us, or at least allow us to be tested? Does love bear within itself some test? Does the life of faith necessarily include a kind of loving torment? It did for Jesus. But recall that it was also true for Moses, who went forty days on the mountain without food waiting to receive God's law. It was true for Elijah, who was forced to hide out in fear for forty days on Mount Horeb. And of course, it was true for the tribe of Israel, whose people struggled for forty years in the wilderness. "Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness," records the Deuteronomist, "in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart and whether or not you would keep the commandments."
Friends, the second word for Lent is that anyone who tries to stick close to Jesus will find his or her faith challenged time and again. Granted, the challenges that come our way will not be the same ones Jesus faced. We are not tempted to turn stones into bread, become ruler of the world, or perform some gravity-defying feat to prove spiritual prowess. In fact, our temptation may not be to rise above our identity as God's children so much as it is to fall below it.
What I’m saying is, I wonder if, for many of us, testing comes in the guise of some inner voice telling us that we are not worthy, not loved or lovable and not capable of living up to the high calling in Christ. It's been said that the devil has lots of tools in his workshop, and one of his most effective tools is his wedge of discouragement. This is the tool that tries to pry us away from God and God's love for us declared at our baptism. In this wilderness of discouragement, we are tempted to conclude that the word spoken at our baptism was a lie, and that we are alone in a world are without any inherent meaning or purpose.
The cover story in the most recent Newsweek magazine examines the alarming rise of depression in men. The temptation of many followers of Christ today is not so much a pride that prompts us to over-reach our capabilities, but more likely a depression that keeps us from reaching at all. Can we really trust God? Where is God in all the immense stress, random suffering, war and tragic death? Does God really know who I am, or care what I do? We sing about how God's got us and the whole world in God's hands, but this faith is easy to forget and, at times, so hard to believe. On this first Sunday in Lent, we acknowledge a simple but troubling fact. As followers of Jesus Christ, our baptismal status as beloved children of God will be tested. We can count on it.
The sermon concludes at the Lord's Table
Now the third Word for Lent is proclaimed from the Table. We're celebrating communion every Sunday in Lent because quite frankly we need it every Sunday. It speaks to us of Christ's enduring presence with us through every trial. Yes, as followers of Jesus we will be assailed with questions, doubt, and confusion, but we face these in communion with Christ, not apart from him. At this Table we are united in fellowship with the One who was tested as we are, and who prevailed. Because we have unbroken communion with Christ, we will find strength to overcome some of the temptations that assault us. And we will find the patience and trust to endure those things that we cannot overcome—perhaps some emotional predisposition, a debilitating chronic condition, some thorn in the flesh that simply won't budge. No matter. We can endure whatever life throws our way, because we are in communion with Christ, and he has promised to be with us always.
Friends, from heart of God, three words are spoken: God knows us. God tests us. And God stays in communion with us.