Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Luke 4:1-13
“The Space Between”
Adonai, God of Abraham and Sarah, wandering Arameans who sought your will for their lives, if we find ourselves enjoying the benefits of settled lives with adequate resources that satisfy our needs, we come to you in thanksgiving and joy, celebrating your abundance by sharing what we have. We stand, we live, we hope in the shadow of your presence and trust in your provision for us and for those who need us. We hope in the Living Word, Jesus Christ, in whom there is no distinction between people, wherever they are born, wherever they live. May his words teach us your word in ways that build up, ways that connect all people to your love, ways that do not separate anyone from your love. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
The season of Lent is modeled on the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness after his baptism. We are told the story of his temptation. This was a time of preparation for his entry into the activity that would characterize him as Messiah, as Son of God, as Savior. I imagine the struggle in the wilderness also included his own concern about living out God’s intentions for him as well as the most faithful ways that he could do all that God wanted.
The story of Jesus in the wilderness something with the story of the people of Israel from Deuteronomy—both Jesus and Israel are on the cusp of a new kind of life. Jesus was about to begin his ministry, revealing how God wanted to be revealed and how lives were meant to be changed by God’s presence renewed; Israel was about to begin their lives in the land of God’s promise: after their presence in Egypt first as economic refugees, then as slaves and finally with their identity as God’s people with a rule of life that revealed how God lived in and through them.
They each stand in the space between their former lives and the lives God has given them to live—and for similar reasons. God called Abraham and Sarah and their descendants to be a light to the world, revealing the one God and creator of all to all peoples. Jesus, in a reaffirmation of God’s desire to love the entire world, was also beginning his life of revelation, beginning the work God had given him to do.
While Lent isn’t the only time that we can consider what kind of life God is calling us to live—it is a time of introspection when we can consider that life particularly as a community as well as the lives we live as individuals.
You, as a congregation, are in a space and time between so in this Lenten season we can take the time to consider who we are, where God calls, and what happens next.And today is just the beginning—the moment before the journey, really, it’s the moment before the next leg of the journey or the next phase in our lives.
The book of Deuteronomy is a second telling of the story of Moses and the people coming out of Egypt, it was written or found in a time later in Israel’s history when they needed to be reminded who they were and where they’d come from. So this story is a reminder of a story within a reminder. “Your ancestors did this to remember who they were—don’t forget who you are.” They were thankful—and hopeful. They brought the first of the harvest to celebrate that they were living in the land God had promised. And it wasn’t just blessed and taken back. It was shared with the Levites (those who depended upon the temple for their livelihood) and the aliens, people who were not a part of the original promise, but enjoyed the bounty of God’s gifts alongside everyone who was.
They remembered who they had been—and knew that it would always be a part of their lives. They’d been immigrants, descended from Abraham and Sarah. They’d been slaves, first dependent upon Egypt for food and life, then enslaved and oppressed by their benefactors. They’d been freed, only through God’s power and will, then spent time in the wilderness (40 years) learning to be a free people after their enslavement. And finally, they were a free people with a land of abundance where they could settle and live peacefully among the other inhabitants of the land.
At a time like this, in the space between where we’ve been and where we are going, we can stop and remember who we have been, who you have been in this community and to one another and hold onto that as you become who you’ll be. According to one credible witness from your past, you are a small, loving and faithful congregation. As far as I can tell, that has always been the identity you’ve claimed and there is no reason to believe that that isn’t who you’ll always be. Small, to a certain degree, is a flexible characteristic; loving and faithful are non-negotiable.
How is it that you live out that history? And how do we do so in ways that God calls us in all circumstances to be the light of the world, a conduit of God’s grace, witnesses to God’s love in Jesus Christ and in the ways we relate to one another?
In just this short time I’ve been with your community so far, you’ve shared generously with a family so that they’d have a Christmas celebration, not just have what they need, but an abundance to be able to smile and laugh together with happiness. You’ve shared time and resources to care for the hungry and food insecure in Olney at Good Samaritan. You have been loving people who need whatever extra we have so they can get from day to day more easily, maybe with less suffering and anxiety.
I know—also from what you’ve said that it’s not as easy as it has been at times in the past, but if loving and faithful is who you are, then holding onto that is vital to who you will be tomorrow and vital to your specific revelation of God, your particular and specific message from God to this community. Your message may not be the biggest or the loudest, but if you embrace loving and faithful as who you are, it could be the most loving, merciful, and even the most generous and neighborly or hospitable around. Your welcome could mean life to a stranger, life to someone rejected by their family or others, life when some one feels like all hope has been lost.
I’m not dictating your message or identity; I am simply telling you what I’ve seen and heard from you in these last few months, in this space in between how it’s been and what the future brings.
Jesus, as I’ve said, was in that space as he fasted in the wilderness following his baptism. Matthew and Luke tell a detailed story of Jesus’ temptation, where the devil—offers Jesus some very specific choices that characterize how Jesus could choose to use his power, claim his identity, and carry out his purpose. In one way, I see it that the Jesus is tempted to the convenience of what the devil offers and Jesus knows that the means to the goal of his life and calling were inextricably interwoven with the purpose of his life. The message of his life was the way that he lived it and the way he lived his life was the message.
The works that the devil tempted Jesus to do were not out of the realm of possibility and power that Jesus’ would express. Jesus didn’t turn stones to bread, but he fed 5,000 to 15,000 people with just a few loaves and some fish and he fed others, not just himself. He gave of his power so that the poor folks who followed might survive to the next day. Jesus expressed power over nature when he calmed the seas; and he did it for the sake of his friends and their faith, not just to claim power. Jesus called upon God for help as he faced his crucifixion and understood that God’s love and will for the entire world meant that he had to face his own painful and violent death without violence and resistance so that his death would lead us all to resurrection. His life and teachings, his death and resurrection means that we can live our lives unconcerned with mere survival; we can live with purpose and meaning, pursuing better lives for the people in our world and finding meaning there.
We are in a space between in other ways, too, in a position to choose our next place of movement or being. One step away may be where we circle up and take care only of ourselves, focusing on survival, slowly dying in the process or toward nurturing the tender life we carry together. In another direction, we step toward some identity that is not our own, owning judgment or exclusion instead embracing a name that points toward love and grace. One step takes us toward despair; another step might cultivate invitation and inclusion and the contagious joy of warmth and hospitality. We might join to embrace difference and nurture our core identity of love and faith all at the same time.
We won’t always enjoy the steps we need to take as we sort out the best of ourselves from what we need to leave behind. We might need to ask difficult questions that are hard enough to ask, let alone answer. We might even have to argue with one another with understanding and love to decide and take the steps we need to take into the future God has for us.
We can take this season of Lent as our time in between considering the past, present, and future as we focus on who we have been and who we can be. We can pray and wonder, as we hear stories of God’s intentions for God’s people and hear of Jesus’ work and journey toward Jerusalem, where God’s will leads us for the sake of God’s coming kindom and for the nurture of God’s people here and throughout the world.
And—in the words of Julian of Norwich, 14th century scholar and poet, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
To the glory of God, our joy, our hope, our love. Amen.
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