The Very Rev. William Thomas Deneke, rector> Scripture for the day
We are midway through Lent, midway through the season of wilderness that precedes Easter. Lent and Easter together are liturgical expressions of holy baptism. During Lent we die with Christ and during Easter we are raised with Christ. In these forty days before Easter we are invited to open ourselves to God’s presence in the wilderness just as Nicodemas discovered grace in the dark of night.
It is a challenge to find meaning in darkness. On their journey around Edom, the ancient Hebrews lost track of the promise and were overwhelmed by the desert. What had seemed so grace-filled lost its wonder and was replaced by fear.
That is such a deeply human experience. The wilderness represents the side of life we might call unholy. That part of ourselves we associate with God’s absence.
We all have times in the wilderness. Times when we lose heart, times when hope vanishes, times when bitterness and cynicism wrap themselves around us. Sometimes we spend long stretches in the wilderness. We may become afraid and lose our way. In fact, as a rule it’s not until we are in the wilderness that the concept of God’s grace makes sense. Up until that time grace may seem like a nice idea but nothing more. A nice idea applicable for others. It is when we realize that we are in the desert and parched with thirst that we can find God’s grace to be a sheer gift of living water.
Lent is about this kind of experience. Finding God’s presence in the deserts of life is the work of Lent.
Paul Tillich, a remarkable theologian, in his classic sermon “You are Accepted” wrote,
Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged.
It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when old compulsions reign within us as they have fordecades, when despair destroys all joy and courage.
Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: “You are accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know; perhaps you will find it later.
Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!”
It is hard to believe that such a gift could be associated with wilderness experiences. Yet that is exactly what we proclaim in baptism. We die with Christ that we may be raised with Christ. It is in the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life, that new life emerges through grace.
This is not a process that we can control or even reason our way through. It is too existential, too soulful, too close to our core for us to manipulate. Our journeys in the wilderness call us to trust that God accompanies us not because of anything we do but because God loves us unconditionally. God walks with us through the desert not as the cause of our sorrow nor as one oblivious to it, but as a companion in grief. In the words of the Psalmist, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”
If we have the courage to be honest with ourselves, sooner or later all of us find ourselves in the wilderness. It is never very far away. John’s gospel knows that. And so the evangelist says to keep our eyes on Jesus. When we’re lost, when we’re without hope, look to Jesus. And then John presents some of the most remarkable words in the Bible: He says,“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Here is the great paradox of faith. It is through our encounters with God in the wilderness that we are saved. It is in our unholiness that we discover we are not condemned but accepted. As Tillich said, “ … a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: ‘You are accepted’”.
St. Paul reminds us not to run out into the wilderness in order to discover the grace of God. He says, in the King James Version, “Sufficient unto the day is the call thereof”. There will be plenty of times for trials without our manufacturing them. We don’t need to go looking for wilderness experiences. They will find us.
Today’s Lenten readings remind us that God is not absent when we think God is. In fact it is when we feel most separated from God that we may find we are loved and accepted.
A lot of people in the developing world know this well. Many have discovered God’s presence in the valley of the shadow of death. [e.g. Haiti] It may be harder for those of us with resources enough to escape from some of the valleys to know we are loved. We may not even think we have to depend on God’s love for survival. But there are other valleys, other wildernesses that we tend to find ourselves in. Wildernesses of meaninglessness, greed, and self absorption, the valley of clinging to anger when a hand of reconciliation has been offered us, the valleys of failing to love our neighbor by turning a blind eye to our neighbor’s plight, and the deep valley of failing to act on the faith into which we were baptized. These are unholy places, but not places beyond the love of God. God came into the wilderness of the world not to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved.
Let us pray:
O God, give us the courage in these days of Lent to see you in the barren places of our lives. Give us ears to hear you in the silence of alleluias. For you walk with us in the wilderness and share our pain in the valleys of grief. Through Jesus Christ in whom we die and find new life.
Amen.
