God has called us to step forward in faith, not knowing what is ahead, and so we do, trusting God is always with us, even if the road ahead is unknown and frightening.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The Second Sunday in Lent, year A
   Texts: Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3:1-17; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Imagine that first night on the road.

Out in the wilds, in tents, with temporary corrals for the animals, what were Abraham and Sarah thinking? Why did we leave our city home to go . . . where? How did Abram talk me into this? Did I really hear God’s voice?

Were they frightened? Excited? Probably both. Nicodemus, too, as he stepped out of the shadows edging the street and came to Jesus’ door: What if another Pharisee sees me? Why am I here? The others say he’s a blasphemer, but I sense something. Should I knock?

Abraham and Sarah. Nicodemus. Hearing the voice of God, they stepped out in faith. They followed its leading. But it had to be as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Faith was no easier for them than it is for us. Their stepping forward in faith was just as frightening as any step we take. But we have the gift of their story, their testimony. If we sit with them in that critical night of their first steps, we can find light for our own paths ahead.

We find the beginning of light in Jesus’ redirection of Nicodemus.

Nicodemus wants to talk about whether Jesus is from God. But Jesus wants to talk about new birth. Birth from above. Birth in water and the Holy Spirit.

The gift is that Jesus calls this a birth, not an ending. The Spirit gives us birth in baptism’s water, but she doesn’t reveal everything that is to come. Birth is beginning.

We don’t remember our physical birth. We entered the world with nothing but future, nothing but potential. Our present was living, breathing, eating, sleeping. Others cared for us, cleaned us, fed us. Everything we would become was yet to come.

So Jesus says our life of faith begins: in baptism the Spirit bears us into newness of life, as Christ ourselves, anointed ones. What we will be, where we’ll go, what we’ll do as Christ, is unknown.

Just as it was that night for Abraham and Sarah. For Nicodemus.

When Eric Milner-White, dean of King’s College at Cambridge, wanted a prayer reflecting Abraham’s faith that night on the road, he focused on the unknown Abraham faced.

He wrote, “O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us.” [1]

That’s our faith. Born into new life in Christ, even if some of us have years living into our baptism by now and some only months, the future is still unseen, untrodden, unknown.

What do these faithful ones today tell us that gives us hope and encouragement, instead of fear?

They listened to God’s voice.

Abraham’s task was hard: in his world no one believed there was only one God, unseen, all-creating. People didn’t hear their many gods speak to them. But somehow Abraham heard God’s voice, and listened. And credit to Sarah, who didn’t hear herself. Her faith was to trust Abraham.

Nicodemus is more like us: he had Jesus, the Son of God, to seek out and hear. We sometimes romanticize how great it would be to hear God’s voice directly like Abraham or Noah. But we forget that in Christ Jesus we see the face of the Triune God, and in Christ’s words from the Scriptures and given into our hearts through the Spirit, we can hear God ourselves.

So here is our first task: are we listening to God’s Word speak, and discerning what it means for our path? They heard things that challenged them to leave what was comfortable and go into what was unfamiliar. But they trusted they were hearing God’s true voice.

So first we open our ears.

Then they took a step.

They not only heard challenging words from God, they acted on them. Abraham and Sarah became the parents of a great nation, models of faith. Nicodemus moved from secret discipleship to openly declaring his faithfulness at Jesus’ death, claiming his body for burial.

They weren’t perfect. They made mistakes along the way. They had no idea where the path was leading them. But they took that one step. They did this one day at a time. They started a venture they could not see the end of, headed down paths they’d never walked before, and faced dangers they couldn’t predict. All of that could have crushed their faithfulness at the start. But they didn’t focus on that. They took one step.

So can we. When we hear God call us to follow, to become Christ, we can start with the first step. The first night on the road, fearful and excited. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

And they stepped forward because they trusted they weren’t alone.

Jesus says the Spirit goes with us, unseen, but always there. Nicodemus eventually trusted he wasn’t alone, trusted in the God whose love for the cosmos sent Jesus into the world to save it, not judge it.
Abraham and Sarah were told to go “to a place that I will show you.” God promised to go with them and guide them.

We are never sent down the path of faith alone. “God will not let your foot be moved, neither will the one who watches over you fall asleep,” we sang with the psalmist this morning. Our help comes from the One who made the heavens and the earth, we sang. We look to the one who “justifies the ungodly,” Paul told us today, so we know even in our failure we aren’t abandoned on the road.

With the faith God gives us, we can trust, as we pray, that God’s hand is leading us and God’s love supporting us. These faithful forebears aren’t heroes. They’re like us. Ordinary people, wanting to know where God is, listening for God, and stepping out in faith, trusting they are walking with God.

When we join them in that night of their first steps, we find companions.

Each of us individually hears challenges from God to who we are, that pull us into places God would have us grow and change. We each are drawn to become something new and unknown and perhaps frightening to us, for the sake of God’s love that fills us.

And we have these same experiences together, as community. We listen here not just for ourselves alone, but for ourselves together, as Christ’s body. Together we will see new paths of following Christ open up before us that we can’t predict, that seem a little scary.

But we share this journey with Abraham and Sarah, with Nicodemus, with each other. We help each other listen for God’s voice and hear. In our fear, we encourage each other to take the individual steps each of us is called to take as we become Christ, and the larger steps together we are called to take.

It’s like being born; the future is unknown. But it’s being born from above, Jesus says, from the love of the Triune God for the universe that caused God to come and be one of us, be lifted up on the cross for the sake of all people, so no one will perish. That’s where we’re born from, and that’s where our paths of faithfulness ultimately return.

So we go forward in faith, not knowing where we go, but only that God’s hand is leading us and God’s love supporting us. That’s enough for today’s step.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

[1] Daily Prayer, ed. Eric Milner-White, G.W. Briggs; Oxford University Press, 1941; p. 14 (with modernized language from various sources)

Jesus’ temptation mirrors and informs our own: it is how we grow to become who God means us to be, and we are always with God’s grace, strength, and presence throughout.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   The First Sunday in Lent, year A
   Texts: Matthew 4:1-11; Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

We can’t avoid temptation in our lives. We really don’t want to.

Two stories of temptation shape our worship today. Hearing them, we wish we didn’t have to face such testing ourselves. But these stories teach us a different truth, that we can’t become who God means us to be without such trials.

The Hebrew story of human sin and our origins reveals a belief that temptation and testing are part of God’s original human design. Adam and Eve haven’t sinned yet, but already they face the suffering of being tempted to disobey. It’s not arbitrary of God. They’ll only become who they were created to be by facing and making hard choices.

And so the Holy Spirit leads Jesus into the wilderness after his baptism, not to give him temptation, but to encourage him to face the inevitable. This testing wasn’t arbitrary, either. Jesus will only become who he is meant to be if he faces and makes these hard choices.

These stories have much to say to us about our temptation and testing.

Here we note that, facing temptation, knowing who you are matters.

Adam and Eve, standing here for all humanity, are unsure of who they truly are. They live in God’s good creation, beloved children of God. They depend on God for all good, and are asked to trust that God knows good and evil, and obey.

But they are tempted to forget they are the creatures, and want to be God themselves, in control. They want to name things as good and evil, and do what they want, instead of obeying. They forget the joy of walking with God, and are tempted to choose a path where they put themselves above God.

They are us.

But Jesus walks into the wilderness wet from his baptism. He also knows he is the beloved Son of God, he just heard it. In his temptations that’s put to the test, too, but he remains dependent upon his Father’s grace and love and so withstands the trial. He chooses obedience over doing what he wants. His answer at Gethsemane, “not my will but yours,” begins in this desert.

The settings here are also important, a lush garden and a desert.

Remarkably, the one who faithfully resists was in the desert. The Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness, perhaps to remove him from distractions, from the world’s noise, from his cares and daily needs, to focus on listening to God, and facing what paths lay ahead. Not weakened by his forty days in the desert, spiritually Jesus was strengthened, ready to face Satan, ready to consider who he is to be, free of distraction.

Adam and Eve have a rich life of pleasure, but they didn’t make the right decision. Maybe they were too comfortable. We also struggle, maybe because we live in God’s lush creation, privileged with much of God’s riches, and have even more distractions. When do we deprive ourselves of any comforts or pleasures? When are we free of noise? When are we silent, and not listening to news or music, or checking social media, or watching television, or feasting richly?

Our puny idea of “giving up something” for Lent waters down the deep wisdom of our ancestors in faith who understood this wilderness. They realized that only by letting go of things that pull at us, demand of us, distract us, can we hear God. Only by going into the wilderness and getting away from the noise, can we hear God. If you’re giving anything up, let it be a true fasting for this time, so you can focus. Or even something you won’t pick up again at Easter, but leave forever at the edge of the wilderness as you walk toward your testing.

Third, these trials and temptations are core to being human, being faithful.

These stories aren’t about being tempted to run a stop-sign, or cheat in a card game. These trials deal with life and death. That helps us. Because here we see the challenges before us. The questions of who we are, and of whether we can focus on God. And then there are Jesus’ three great tests.

Jesus is asked to turn stone into bread, to use his power to save himself.

At Gethsemane he has the same decision: will the Messiah save himself? He can’t set aside his power and face the cross if he doesn’t first do it at the beginning of his ministry on this lesser thing.

How will we make the right choice ourselves, to sacrificially offer ourselves to another in all sorts of ways, if we don’t first face this core question? If we insist on using all our wealth and resources to take care of ourselves instead of sharing for our neighbor, we will find the greater sacrifices even harder.

Jesus is asked to jump off the Temple, to show he trusts his Father.

To test God is with him before he will obey. At the cross, Jesus will face the ultimate test of that trust. At one point there he cried his doubt and fear out loud, before finding that trust at the end. But this first trust in the desert helped him trust at the cross.

Likewise, we are tempted to test if God really loves us, supports us, before we risk obedience. We want proof that all will work out before we try to obey, and use our lack of such evidence as an excuse to do nothing. We must learn to step out in faith, trusting God, on everyday things, so we can have the courage for the much larger steps needed to really change the world.

Jesus is asked to give up his core identity, and he can rule the world.

Sent here to bring us all back into God’s rule, Jesus can short-cut that and take over the world with political power. Three years later in Jerusalem, he will have the same decision. Will he destroy Roman power, overthrow the leaders of his people? Will the Messiah will use power to get what he wants? This desert decision matters, because accepting arrest and what follows will be a much harder decision.

This is critical for us. Politically, do we support and encourage our leaders to use force and dominance to get what we think is good? Personally, will we manipulate others, try and get what we want however we can, even if it means we aren’t loving? Do the ends justify the means? Jesus helps us see that the wrong means always lead to bad ends. It’s the every day choices we face where we learn this hard path and prepare for the larger ones.

These are the tests we face. How we face them determines which turns we take and who we become.

As we face these choices, we remember today that we are God’s beloved. We, like Jesus, walk into our path wet from our baptism, and like Jesus, God is always with us on our path. Remember, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness, and was always with him.

And we would do well to seek wilderness, get rid of competing voices and distractions, so we can hear God’s voice, and know God’s presence.

And last, we remember we are loved by God in Christ who has faced these same trials, died for them, and is risen to new life. Nothing can separate us from that love.

We can’t avoid testing or temptation. It’s how we are made to grow into the beautiful beings God intended us to be. When we remember what we see here, then we’ll find we have God’s strength to make these hard choices, and God’s grace to learn and grow from them.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

We are dust, but God breathes life into us; we know we sin, but hear the voice of God’s love calling to us constantly; this is the shape of our journey.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
   Ash Wednesday
   Texts: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21; Joel 2:1-2, 12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

“Return to me with all your heart,” says the Lord.

“Be reconciled to God,” says Paul on behalf of Christ.

“Return,” says the prophet Joel, because “God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”

This is the voice that calls us here today. A voice using those words. It’s not a voice of rebuke, it’s the voice of the prodigal father in Jesus’ parable, longing for the return of a beloved child. It’s not a voice that crushes with fear. It’s a voice that calls hope of bringing us home.

This voice we hear today comes directly from the heart of the Triune God, who longs for us to be reconciled, restored. It’s a voice that, if we hear it, would lead us to drop everything, turn and come home. A voice that, the prophet says, would cause a wedding couple to leave their ceremony, an infant to leave the breast.

Jesus says our treasure is where our heart is. But the voice we hear today tells us that before we know where our heart is there is this truth: we are in God’s heart, beloved, desired. And we begin our journey of Lent with that wonder.

We’ve learned to face our sin and failure in shame, with heads down. That’s a problem.

The Scriptures certainly criticize our lack of love, our failure to bring justice and peace, our hurts that we lay on each other, on our neighbor, on this good creation. Some of that may feel like shame.

But that isn’t how God comes to us, or calls us home. In our flesh, bearing our humanity, Christ always offers welcome and hope, even to those who are doing wrong. “Neither do I condemn you,” Jesus says repeatedly, even while naming those sins we do that are not love as God has made us to love. Throughout the Scriptures the Triune God relentlessly calls us home, cries out in love. Even in God’s anger there is always the heart of God we hear in Hosea, “How can I give you up? You are my child, my beloved.”

We don’t doubt our sin, our failure. We confess them, and will today. We might feel shame, too, along with guilt and sadness and other powerful emotions.

But what the Triune God would have us know is that we are in the center of God’s heart, beloved. And God longs for us to come home, and when we come with our shame, or guilt, or sadness, we find ourselves embraced, given new clothes, and welcomed to a feast.

So what’s the point of the ashes? Aren’t we abasing ourselves there?

It’s actually the opposite. We don’t receive ashes to remember how awful we are, or to feel ashamed of ourselves, or to declare that we’re nothing, we’re worms. That’s not how God sees us. We are beloved to God.

In ancient times the faithful poured ashes over their heads to show their repentance, to claim they were nothing before God. But Jesus suggests those days are past. When we fast, when we confess, when we turn to God, Jesus says we don’t need to do public displays to show our repentance, our turning. God knows our heart, and we can trust in God’s love for us. So we wash our faces and stand firm in God’s love.

But listen to the words said over you today: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We receive ashes to remember that we are mortal, we are dust, and we will return to dust. We realize that we have no strength on our own for life, or for becoming Christ, or anything. We are dust, and if there is going to be life in our dust, it will only come from God. These ashes are hope for us: the Triune God is the one who breathes life into dust and gives bone and sinew and flesh, who raises us up in strength to be God’s love in the world.

So we can’t walk our journey alone.

Our little journey of Lent is our practice for our greater journey of faith. It is a journey where we’re reconciling with God and each other, a journey where we’re returning to God for mercy and hope.

We cannot do this alone. Not without our God who calls us beloved and gives us life. The forgiveness we receive is our life and our hope, because it restores us to God. We don’t have to hide in the bushes of the garden ashamed to meet God, as Adam and Eve; we are forgiven and loved, and can walk with God again.

The grace we see at the cross, God’s love that took on all pain and sin and death to crack open our hearts, is the air, water, and food we need for the journey we make in this world. We are dust, and can’t do any of this without that grace, that love. We can’t confess, we can’t repent, we can’t love, unless we remain in the love of God that calls to us, longs for us.

And remaining in that love, everything looks different.

The joy that permeates today is that the loving voice of God never stops calling to us, the loving heart of God never stops longing for us, and the loving arms of God never stop reaching out to us. And that changes our lives.

Paul says that our lives in God transcend all circumstances. We may look like we have nothing, but we have everything. Our path might look like we’re dying, but we are truly alive. We are centered in the love of God, and that makes all things healed and holy, even if we or the world can’t see it inside us.

Now we understand what Jesus is saying.

Your heart will be where your treasure is, Jesus says.

If we’re already in the center of God’s heart, that’s our treasure, without question. So that’s where our heart is, too. That’s the home we seek.

This is our journey, then:

We are always returning to the God whose love cannot be taken from us. We walk this journey as dust, fully aware of our mortality, but confident in God’s mercy and love, and rejoicing that our dust is breathed into life and love by the God who creates all things.

We walk with each other, reminding, serving, supporting, encouraging, helping.

We walk into the world bearing this love of God, so others hear the same voice, and know that God’s love cannot be taken from them, too.

That is our treasure beyond description. That’s where our heart truly is. That’s where will will follow.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen