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“Wilderness Road to the Promised Land”

Rev. Katherine Todd
Exodus 16:2-15
Philippians 1:21-30

 

Exodus 16:2-15

The whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness. The Israelites said to them, “If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”

Then the Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on other days.” So Moses and Aaron said to all the Israelites, “In the evening you shall know that it was the Lord who brought you out of the land of Egypt, and in the morning you shall see the glory of the Lord, because he has heard your complaining against the Lord. For what are we, that you complain against us?” And Moses said, “When the Lord gives you meat to eat in the evening and your fill of bread in the morning, because the Lord has heard the complaining that you utter against him—what are we? Your complaining is not against us but against the Lord.”

Then Moses said to Aaron, “Say to the whole congregation of the Israelites, ‘Draw near to the Lord, for he has heard your complaining.’” And as Aaron spoke to the whole congregation of the Israelites, they looked toward the wilderness, and the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud. The Lord spoke to Moses and said, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’”

In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.

 

Philippians 1:21-30

For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again.

Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well— since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Israelites have escaped the prison of their temporary home in Egypt.  They have become free!  And that means change, A LOT of change.

 

Though they were enslaved, oppressed, and beaten down, they did have food to eat.
Food fueled the Egyptian labor-force.

And these Israelites do not remember what it is like to be free.  They have acclimated.  They have adapted.  They have their comforts, their routines, their simple pleasure – all of which have been uprooted with this run for freedom.

 

The new generations only know enslavement, so they’ve not gotten to exercise their muscles of self-will, of self-determination, and perhaps of self-respect.  Instead of plotting their own journey, they’ve been going along, following the orders of another.

And so this unimagined freedom now calls on them to grow in ways they may have become weak.  They must forage their own food, build their own dwellings, set their own course.  And if they fail to do so, they will be hungry, they will be thirsty, …they may starve.

And these are precisely their complaints to Moses as they journey through the wilderness.  There is no water.  They are thirsty!  The water is bitter.  They are thirsty!  This miss meat.  They are hungry! 

 

And they start to reminisce back to their days of enslavement in Egypt.  THERE they at least had meat.  Better to die a slave, eating meat, than to starve a free soul, they complain.

 

 

And it strikes me, that as we venture into the unknown territory of freedom, we encounter risks, unknowns, fears, and discomforts.  But if we do not venture into freedom, we will surely die, never having lived.  For what is living, if it is not freedom?!

And I think of our journey as a church of God.

 

We see the path by which we came.  Those who came before built this gorgeous sanctuary at a time when churches were busting at the seams in America.  The wars had ceased, the people had returned to faith and family, and babies were being born.  There was a faith in the church, a faith in organizations, a faith in institutions.  And so we came to this point:  education rooms were built to teach the children, youth, and adults about Jesus.  And this large and lovely sanctuary replaced our beautiful first sanctuary – now the fellowship hall.

We can see the path by which we came.   Just as the Israelites came to Egypt at a critical time – to survive famine and to thrive amidst it all – we came to this place because the times demanded it.

But just as the Israelite’s situation continued to evolve until they were enslaved to the Egyptians, we too have continued to change until we have become enslaved to our own building.  It’s simply far too big and aged and exquisite for our small band to easily maintain.  And so we are compelled to look toward a different future.  We must change or face our eventual death.

 

Like the Israelites, we sit at the brink – our food in hand, dressed, shoes on, ready to go.  We have been researching and preparing, praying and discerning in order to envision the pathway forward for our blessed congregation.

And we do not see the path ahead.  We can only see what came before.

And we are uncomfortable.  For in stepping out into the unknown – in negotiating with potential renters and partners in mission and ministry – we lose our sense of control.  We cannot predict next moves.  We do not yet know where our provision, our water, our food, our provision will come from.  And we grow anxious.

 

And we too start to grumble and complain: If we could just keep doing what we’ve always done, at least we’d be comfortable, but now God, have you brought us out here, that we may perish in the wilderness?  …In the places of discomfort and unknown?

God are you bringing us out in order to smite us more quickly?

God, if we’d just kept going as we were, we would die, but at least we’d die singing our favorite hymns…

 

Does this feel at all relevant?  Does it touch on some of our experiences?

 

Transitions are extraordinarily difficult, especially for some of us.  It often comes down to how we’re wired.  Uncertainties can feel intolerably risky.  Loss of control can feel like a death.

Transitions are hard. 

 

…And yet God calls us out.
God calls us out of darkness and into the light.
God is calling us out of death and into life.

 

And that life together will be different.
It will take time to build up and tear down.
It will take planning and starting.  …Stopping and revising and starting again.  …Over and over.

 

Like the Israelites, we will reach places where we cannot see a path forward, where death feels imminent.  But when its God doing the calling, God doing the inviting, God doing the freeing, God provides.  But not before we complain.  And not always before our discomforts and fear.

 

And so we have choices – to trust or to doubt.  Is God leading us?  And if God is, can we trust God?

We have choices – to trust one another or to doubt.  Do we believe that where two or more are gathered in God’s name that God is there too?

We have choices – do we believe that God is using ALL things for good?  Even our individual and collective mistakes?

We have choices – do we believe that God will continue to direct and redirect us as we take faithful steps?  Are we tuning our ears to hear that still small voice saying, “This is the way.  Walk in it.”

 

 

And so, as we follow God out of the land of the familiar, the land of comfort, and the land of our eventual or sudden death,…will we trust?  Will we trust God and one another?

Will we trust God for our provision – even when we cannot yet see it on the horizon?

Will we trust God to meet our needs – providing familiar comforts, even as we journey outside the lines of our narrow worlds?

 

Do we believe that God is doing a work among us?

 

For if we do, then the invitation is to follow. 

 

The Israelites were blessed, in order to BE a blessing!  They were to be a city on a hill, a light in the darkness.  THROUGH THEM, the whole world would be blessed!  That was God’s plan.  But they couldn’t do it enslaved in Egypt.
They had to step out.
They had to journey through wilderness.
And God would indeed bless them and make them a blessing! 

 

Will we continue to step out?
Will we continue to release control?
Will we choose trust?

 

We cannot follow God if we refuse to move.
We cannot follow God if we refuse to grow, to be changed.
We cannot follow God if we are enslaved…to sin, to fear, to dissension, … or even to our building.
We cannot follow God if we’re intent on being the Leader and not the follower.
We cannot hold the reigns of control AND follow God.

 

But for those who follow,
Who venture into the unknown,
Who choose radical trust and work to build a new way of life,
There is miracle and wonder, halleluia’s and praise the Lord’s,
There is hard-won peace, provision, milk & honey…

 

THIS is the legacy of God’s children. 

Will we follow God boldly into the wilderness unknown? 

 

 

 

“I Am Who I Am”

Rev. Katherine Todd
1 Corinthians 13:8-13
Exodus 3:1-15

 

1 Corinthians 13:8-13

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

 

Exodus 3:1-15

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” He said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.”

But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’” God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’:

This is my name forever,
and this my title for all generations.


 

If you spent any time in Sunday School as a child, you probably know well this story of Moses and the burning bush.  It is a beautiful and most surprising story – how God meets with Moses in a bush that is burning but not consumed!  And this story is also most relatable, as Moses makes every excuse he can think of, before accepting God’s call and following in obedience.

It makes me love Moses even more!

 

It strikes me on this reading that a bush that burns, yet is not consumed is what we want from our lives.  We want to burn with passion, energy, ideas, strength, and power…without being consumed.  But alas, quite often we burn until there is nothing left.  We are consumed.  We burn out.  We have long sought out pills and remedies, herbs and vitamins, exercises and regimens, energy drinks and caffeine, gurus and yogis…  But the fact remains:  our energy is limited.  We reach our limits.  And we must refuel.  We must rest.  We must retreat.  We must restore.

But here is God – speaking through a bush, on fire, yet not consumed.

God is that eternal source of energy, of passion, of brightness and hot power.  And yet God does not grow weary or reach the limits.  God does not have to put the cell phone on “Do Not Disturb” and take a break from the masses, seeking God out.

And I don’t know for sure about you, but I have long sought to live beyond my limits.  I have chosen to ignore my own bodily and emotional needs, to serve others.  But we are not God.  We cannot burn that brightly, without being consumed.  God is God and we are not.

And I find this attribute of God most reassuring.  When we sing the old hymn, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands,” we can sing that with the confidence, that God’s hands are steadfast, reliable, unwavering.  When we pray at all hours of the day and night, we are confident God hears our prayers.  In whatever state we find ourselves, high on life and feeling good or scraping the bottom of the barrel, God is there for the finding.

Thanks be to God!

 

I am also struck that Moses is in this wilderness precisely because he raged hot with anger.  He burned with passion over the mistreatment of the Israelite people and took matters into his own hands, killing the Egyptian who’d been beating an enslaved worker.  This Moses was a passionate young man, and it got him here – in the middle of the wilderness, alone, and needing to find himself again in running away and a quiet life.  He burned so brightly with rage that he utterly burned out, for decades!  And it takes God – burning hot in that bush but not consuming it – to get Moses’ attention and to set him back effectively on the path of freeing his people.

 

The second thing that strikes me about this story is God’s response to Moses’ question:  “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?”  God responds, “I am who I am… Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I am has sent me to you.’”

Now, is this not one of the most vague answers ever?  What does it even mean?
“I Am” is not a name, is it?  …And yet, there is so much this says and doesn’t say about God.

First off, it is not gendered.  Though Moses’ question assumes a male, God’s answer does not.  God is not to be limited by a name.  God is not to be hedged in by our assumptions about a name.  God is God.  God is.  And God is indescribable.

In the Hebrew faith tradition that would emerge from these stories and experiences with God, the people took to calling God Yahweh.  But the name was never to be written with the vowels.  With consonants only, it was a word never to be spoken.  It was considered too sacred to be uttered.  And perhaps they recognized that every name would be too small to hold the God of all the Universe in its meaning.

God’s answer, “I Am who I Am,” refuses to be pigeon-holed.  It is a name that instantly reminds the listener, that God is far and away, above and beyond anything the listener could understand or imagine.  No words are enough.  But God is real.  God is alive.   And God is present.

 

What would happen if we started using these words for God:  I Am?

Would it cause us to pause for a moment?

Might we stop to realize that God is unknowable, God is unpredictable, God is surprising and uncontainable?

Might we step back from our efforts to the control – those efforts that seem so well justified because we are so very sure we are right?

Might our entire positioning…change
When we remember, rightly, that we now only “see, as through a mirror, dimly”?

Might we expect to be amazed and humbled when we finally see the great I AM, face to face?

 

Might we remember humbly,
…That God is God, and we are not?

 

 

Listen to the Song, “Cannot Keep You” by Gungor. 

They tried to keep you in a tent
They could not keep you in a temple
Or any of their idols
To see and understand
We cannot keep you in a church
We cannot keep you in a Bible
It’s just another idol
To box you in
They could not keep you in their walls
We cannot keep you in ours either
For You are so much greater
Who is like the Lord?
The maker of the heavens
Who dwells with the poor
He lifts them from the ashes
And seats them among princes
Who is like the Lord?
We’ve tried to keep you in a tent
We’ve tried to keep you in a temples
We’ve worshiped all their idols
We want all that to end
So we will find you in the streets
And we will find you in the prisons
And even in our Bibles, and churches
Who is like the Lord?
The maker of the heavens
Who dwells with the poor
He lifts them from the ashes
And seats them among princes
Who is like the Lord?
We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of Your name
We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of Your name
We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of Your name
Who is like the Lord?
You took me from the ashes
And healed me of my blindness
Who is like the Lord?

 

 

PRAYERS                     (Iona Abby WB)

O God, you have set before us a great hope that your kingdom will come on earth, and have taught us to pray for its coming;  make us ready to thank you for the signs of its dawning, and to pray and work for the perfect day when your will shall be done on earth as it is in heaven.

 

O Christ, you are within each one of us.  It is not just the interior of these walls:  it is our own inner being that you have renewed.  We are your temple, not made with hands.  We are your body.  If every wall should crumble, and every church decay, we are your habitation.  Nearer are you than breathing, closer than hands and feet.  Ours are the eyes with which you, in the mystery, look out with compassion on the world.  Yet we bless you for this place, for your directing of us, your redeeming of us, and your indwelling.  Take us outside, O Christ, outside holiness, out to where soldiers curse and nations clash at the crossroads of the world.  So shall this building continue to be justified.  We ask it for your own name’s sake.

 

 

 

“Unimaginable”

Rev. Katherine Todd
Psalm 17
Matthew 14:13-21

 

Psalm 17

Hear me, Lord, my plea is just;
listen to my cry.
Hear my prayer—
it does not rise from deceitful lips.
Let my vindication come from you;
may your eyes see what is right.

Though you probe my heart,
though you examine me at night and test me,
you will find that I have planned no evil;
my mouth has not transgressed.
Though people tried to bribe me,
I have kept myself from the ways of the violent
through what your lips have commanded.
My steps have held to your paths;
my feet have not stumbled.

I call on you, my God, for you will answer me;
turn your ear to me and hear my prayer.
Show me the wonders of your great love,
you who save by your right hand
those who take refuge in you from their foes.
Keep me as the apple of your eye;
hide me in the shadow of your wings
from the wicked who are out to destroy me,
from my mortal enemies who surround me.

They close up their callous hearts,
and their mouths speak with arrogance.
They have tracked me down, they now surround me,
with eyes alert, to throw me to the ground.
They are like a lion hungry for prey,
like a fierce lion crouching in cover.

Rise up, Lord, confront them, bring them down;
with your sword rescue me from the wicked.
By your hand save me from such people, Lord,
from those of this world whose reward is in this life.
May what you have stored up for the wicked fill their bellies;
may their children gorge themselves on it,
and may there be leftovers for their little ones.

As for me, I will be vindicated and will see your face;
when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness.

 

Matthew 14:13-21

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”

Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.

“Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.


 

Imagine this scenario.

Jesus receives news of what has befallen his cousin John, who he later says is Elijah returned.  In gross human tragedy, jealousy, lust, power, shame, revenge, and the needless shedding of blood, John is beheaded – his head delivered on a silver platter to Herod’s niece-now-daughter-in-law.

 

Can you begin to imagine such evil perpetrated against your cousin?  Against someone doing such good and proclaiming truth and justice?

This is where Jesus finds himself – in need of rest, in need of quiet, in need of solitude.

And so they deliberately leave by boat, as quietly as they can.  They head to a remote place.  But the people – yearning for healing, seeking help and guidance and wisdom – they have followed him from the shore, on foot.  And now this usually remote area is filled to the brim, teaming, with people – parent and child, sick and well, men and women and people of every dimension.

Jesus lands only to find a large crowd.

 

I would have been angry at the people, I imagine.  I might have broken down in tears of exhaustion and grief.  I might have instructed the disciples to just keep on going and going – anywhere but there.

But Jesus sees them, and even through the eyes of his grief, he has compassion on them.  And he begins his sacred work, his holy work of healing the sick.

 

As evening approaches, everyone gets a little more restless.  It is mealtime, and there are no provisions, no homes and families or town there.  How shall they all eat?

So the disciples begin to encourage Jesus to send the crowd away.  Perhaps if they go now, they can make it to villages to find food for themselves.  The disciples know that the people will keep waiting their turn to be touched by Jesus’ hand, to be beheld in Jesus’ eyes, to receive and cherish his words.  They have traveled long.  They are tired and hungry.  But the waiting is worth it.

But Jesus does not respond reasonably. 

A reasonable person would come to the same conclusion.

A reasonable person would assess the scenario:

  • No food there to purchase
  • No food there to harvest
  • No money to buy food even if it was nearby
  • AND 5000 men + women and children
  • = bad news

 

This kind of assessment is important, is it not?

It’s how we live and don’t starve.

It’s how we work out housing and transportation and work.

The need to eat is vital and central.  Most other things revolve around it.  Most other things support this one critical human need.

Jesus knows they are a large crowd of deities or super-humans.  Jesus knows they must eat.  Jesus knows the situation.  Jesus knows human vulnerability and temptation.  Jesus remembers they are each made of dust.

 

And yet, Jesus tells the disciples give them something to eat (the CROWD, that is – some 5000+++ people).

I’m pretty sure that if Jesus and his disciples packed a dinner at all, it was likely meant to serve only 13-20, perhaps.  They were expecting a solitary camp, not a coliseum’s-worth of people on shore.

 

Have you ever been in such a scenario?

 

I love camping.  But there are many kinds of camping in this world.

There is the camping that Jesus and his disciples had expected to do – likely laying underneath the stars and cooking fish over the fire.

There is camping my sister and brother-in-law like to do:  carrying everything they need, carefully weighed and planned – on their backs for days or weeks of hiking in the wilderness.

There is camping like Incy’s brother and family enjoy:  where they park RV’s together, decked out with every imagined convenience.

And there is camping I am accustomed to:  car camping.  Whatever fits into the car can come:  a tent, a tarp, cooking gear, sleeping bag, handsaw, matches, pots and pans.  This is how my mother gave us the experience of traveling around the whole united states one summer.  It was crazy and empowering…and magical.

When I shop, I make lists.  When I organize my work, I make lists.  And when I camp, I make a list.  I actually keep a running list – to help with things I might forget between camping trips.  I try to think of everything:  what if it rains the whole time, what if the wood is too wet, what if everything we have gets soaked, and on and on.

For campers like Incy’s brother there is a term:  Glamper.  It means glamorous camper!

For campers like me – there is no term – so she made up one:  Pramper.  It means prepared camper.

 

That is me.
That is how I feel most comfortable operating in the world.

 

I like having everything on ready.  I like to know where everything is – extremely organized.  I organize my snack basket on any road trip so very carefully that I can reach back & easily find most things I want, without turning my head to look.

I am distressed by disorganization.  I feel stressed when my environment is cluttered or unkept.

Basically, I like being prepared in every area of life.

 

But as you might imagine, it hasn’t worked for me very well.  Not only did life throw more curve balls than I could ever imagine, but I have had to walk into the unknown, which I do not like.  I am naturally that person who likes to sit quietly at the back of the room – to study people, to listen, to observe.  I don’t want to say anything embarrassing.  I don’t want to say anything inaccurate.  I want to gauge the room.  I want to think a lot before I speak.

But I’ve had to deviate from my comfort.  I have felt God calling me to speak up – and have churned inside until I obey.  I like to follow, but God keeps calling me out – to speak out, to share vision, to invite others into greater discipleship.

I have had to leave the places of my security and preparedness in order to be obedient to the Spirit of God and in order to love those God calls me to love. 

 

Funny how others don’t walk my plans very well.  Funny how they seem to sabotage my expectations, over and over.  Funny…

What’s truly funny is that I thought I could “control” others.
What’s funny is that I thought I should “control” others.
What’s funny is that I tried to “control” others.

 

And it never worked; in the end it wasn’t loving.

I could not both love and respect others

AND

Control them.

 

And even when I tried to hide my intentions, they could always feel it.
It created wedges.
It seeded mistrust.

 

And I was faced with the call to truly let go of my security blanket.

 

I was called to follow God in faith – not chart out the entire passageway. 

Like Lewis and Clark, I prepare for everything I can foresee.  But then when the rivers no longer take me forward and mountains loom ahead, I have to look around me, I have to listen, I have to humble myself in collaboration and prayer, and I have to step out into the unknown – making it up as we go.

 

And this has been a massive journey in my life:  this journey from my natural prepared – play-it-safe positioning INTO a trusting of God in the process, a trusting of those with whom I take this journey, and a trusting of myself.

And this is HARD because as you know, Jesus was crucified.  Bad things DO HAPPEN to good people.  Jesus Christ is not insurance for the good life but actually told us we would suffer.

This trust has been hard won. 
But it has been life to me.

 

I have had to flee from control like an addictive substance, because it has been that to me. 

And this new experiment of faith – this experience of letting go and letting God – has been absolute LIFE and HOPE and JOY and SURPRISE and LOVE to me.

 

Through the years of heartache along my journey of discovery and learning to let go and to trust, I accepted that there will always be factors out of my control.  And that as scary as that feels, that is also hopeful, because God is ever doing a new thing.  And what we have today will be different from what we have tomorrow.

We cannot accurately assess the future because we do not yet have, all that we will have, at that time.

We cannot accurately assess the future because we do not yet have, all that we will have, when the time comes.

Someone else more eloquently said, “You cannot solve tomorrow’s problems with today’s answers.” 

 

Jesus knew this.
Jesus know of more resources than any others could perceive, moment to moment.

 

Did he physically multiply the loaves and fish to feed that enormous crowd?

Some have suggested that the miracle may have been one of sharing.

You know the idea of stone soup, do you not?  The host says, “Come on over.  I’m making soup.  Bring whatever you have to put in the pot.”  And as each guest come, carrots are added, potatoes, celery, some chicken…and eventually it is a wholesome, nourishing soup – even though the host only had water and a stone in the pot to start with.

Might the miracle have been that everyone shared?  That everyone let go of their precious food to share with others?

 

Perhaps.  That would be miracle – in their day or in ours!

 

I do not know how Jesus did it.  But whether the miracle performed was in the hearts and hands of the individuals such that they opened themselves to share with one another OR Jesus in his power turned two fish into twenty thousand, I believe Jesus CAN do that.

I believe.

 

There are many lessons we will glean from this account in our lifetimes.  But today may we be attentive to Christ’s provision – unexpected, unimagined, unfathomable, yet delivered right on time. 

 

And as Christ’s disciples long ago, may we – Christ’s disciples here and now – leave room for the unexpected.  May we not limit the possibilities of what can be by what we already see or what has been.  For our God is still creating.  Our God is still providing.  Our God is still renewing and remaking all things.  And we cannot yet imagine the miracles and visions God will make reality, in us and through us. 

 

Thanks be to God!!

 

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PRAYERS

Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)

I keep projecting my present condition onto the future.  If I feel dark, the future looks dark.  If I feel bright, the future looks bright.  But who am I to know what life will be like for me tomorrow, next week, next year, or ten years from now?  Even more, who am I to know who you will be for me in the year ahead?  O Lord, I will not bind you with my own limited and limiting ideas and feelings.  You can do so many things with me, things that might seem totally impossible to me.  I want at least to remain open to the free movement of your Spirit in my life.  Why do I keep saying to myself:  “I will never be a saint.  I will never be able to overcome my impulses and desires.”  If I keep saying that, I might prevent you from healing and touching me deeply.  O Lord, let me remain free to let you come, whenever and however you desire.

Chippewa Song

Sometimes I go about pitying myself
While I am being carried by the wind across the sky.

Denise Levertov (1923-1997)

As swimmers dare to life face to the sky and waters bears them,
As hawks rest upon air and air sustains them,
So would I learn to attain freefall,
And float into Creator Spirit’s deep embrace,
Knowing no effort earns that all-surrounding grace.