Trustful Laments
“Trustful Lament”
Second Sunday of Lent, Year C, March 17, 2019
Psalm 27 Luke 13:31-35
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly
I want to thank the Presbyterian Women’s group for leading the service last week, and right away I need to apologize for today’s sermon because it is going to pale in comparison to the very active fashion show featuring women of the Bible shared last week by the Presbyterian Women. That will be a Sunday long remembered! So, thank you!
Now, you’re stuck with me again, and the last time I preached a couple weeks ago, I shared my personal story of a theophany, of a special vision I had about a year ago while skiing on the mountain, a prayerful moment when the veil was lowered and God was revealed in a new way in my life. It was a spiritual experience, and a great way to relate to that Sunday’s focus on the Transfiguration where Jesus became all shiny on the mountain and the cloud of God’s Presence enveloped him and Peter, James, and John. It was a great wrap-up for the Season of Epiphany as we celebrate God with us, and through our poetry writing and other disciplines, throughout Epiphany we sought to be intentional about seeing God in the neighborhood, raising our awareness to perceive the Spirit at work in the world.
Today we are in a new season, Lent. During Lent we spend forty days, plus Sundays, to prepare for Easter. As the weeks go on we feature stories of Jesus as he journeys to Jerusalem, leading to his crucifixion and resurrection, sharing lessons of faith along the Way. As we look at Psalm 27 and Luke 13 this morning on this Second Sunday of Lent, we see an irony in lament and what seems hopeless mixing with real confidence in God’s goodness. In the midst of that mix, there’s a call to wait upon the LORD, to be strong, take courage, take heart, even as we wait.
Last Wednesday morning I spoke at a public hearing. Having signed up ahead of time, I was first on the list, so when the U.S. Coast Guard opened up that portion of the meeting, they were looking at me to start things off. I speak at things like that because I feel it’s important, not only because of the topic, but also because being a citizen carries responsibility to participate. But I admit, events like that really make me nervous. As I was sitting in my seat, knowing they were going to call me pretty soon, I felt my heart pounding and a sort of alertness, unusual for an early morning. I recognized this feeling of anxiety and adrenaline, and told myself, “Oh, you must be at a public hearing. Welcome, nerves!” I was glad that this scripture had been fresh on my mind from the Tuesday night Lenten devotional, and I remembered that mix of suffering and confidence, and that wonderful image Jesus shares of a mother hen taking her wing and draping it over the brood of chicks. I imagined the wing of God’s comforting Presence laying over me, and indeed that entire room. In some way, my nervousness was still there, but it was manageable, and I stood up, went to the microphone, and shared what I had to say. My five minutes was up, I concluded with a Franciscan blessing, Peace and All Good be with you, and then sat down. Other speakers came forward to share, the meeting eventually ended, and I went on with my day.
We all have times in life where our stomach gets churned, when a lump takes over our throat, when a shadow consumes our vision. All sorts of situations are possible, and we hear headlines documenting tragedies on a daily basis. But when it’s personal, directly part of our involvement, we are forced to deal with it. Maybe it’s a diagnosis which either has few options or the ones it does are very involved, even painful. Maybe a relationship becomes difficult to navigate and what once was a source of identity and encouragement gets soured and stressed, bringing angst, even bitterness. Maybe a group we belong to or an institution we’ve spent our life depending on is now struggling to survive, let alone thrive, and the decline affects us because we’ve attached our identity to life being a certain way.
There are many opportunities to call on God’s name throughout our days, seeking comfort from the divine as we struggle with challenges. When things get really rough, like a chick with the brood hen, we run for that wing, dive underneath, and wait a long time before we peek out to see the larger world.
That evening I was at home after what turned out to be a long day of working. I was tired, but I remembered that I hadn’t spent time in silent prayer that day; too much going on. That image using feminine terminology, describing God providing nurture, shelter, protection, and care, with the wing covering the chicks came to mind. This time, standing there in my kitchen, I wasn’t stressed, indeed I was relaxed, almost ready for bed. I was already comfortable, not seeking comfort. It struck me that the image of chicks under the wing was still relevant in that moment and I had a decision to make.
When we’re stressed, hiding under God’s wing makes sense. That loving reassurance can really help us through challenges. But what about “slipper mode?” No stress, we even got our slippers on, we’re already comfortable. It’s almost harder to be a chick, going under that wing. When something goes wrong, it’s really natural to cry out, “Oh, God help me!” But when we’re doing fine, intentionally letting all things go to be in that same nurturing Presence without the stresses; this takes discipline. But doing so builds awareness, resiliency, and deepens our experience of faith. It reminds us that the chicks and the chicken is not a one-way image. We don’t just receive from God, but God delights in us when we give thanks, praise, lament, attention; when we become more aware of how dynamic and important a relationship with God really is.
One final thought on that image of the wing and the chicks. This thought comes from my observations as someone who has had chickens, and I do plan on getting more chickens this spring. Chicks can’t spend all their time under a wing. Part of being a chick growing up involves getting out and exploring the world; discovering bugs, eating worms, scratching the soil, and doing what chickens do. Chicks figure out life’s pecking order, how to watch for predators, where the loose sand is for dust baths to keep the parasites down and the feathers preened.
Spiritual disciplines which ground us in Christ’s consciousness build resiliency as our faith compels us toward action. Contemplation or meditation, prayer, and scripture reading, along with other Lenten practices like worship, fasting, extra financial gifts, and others, all lead us to peek out and take steps to engage God’s larger world.
It’s wonderful today to welcome Richard and Debbie Welch as Presbyterian Mission Co-Workers partnering with the state church in Guatemala, especially in working with indigenous people. Richard and Debbie are from our own Presbytery of the Inland Northwest, and they have many stories sharing ways Christ is working in the lives of people through relationship, community engagement, partnering ministries, and people learning how to be more just, loving, inclusive, and honest. Especially in their work with the more remote areas and marginalized peoples of Guatemala, social justice becomes outward expressions of inward transformation and grounding in God’s enfolding care and love. (https://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/missionconnections/richard-and-debbie-welch/).
On the website describing their work, Debbie quotes Pastor Santiago, serving a very remote church in the countryside, as he shares reflections on their visit putting the larger, global church into perspective within their local experience, saying,
“We need to be together in communion, not worshiping alone.”
Those words fill Debbie and Richard with joy, and serve as confirmation of their call to be with the people of Guatemala, worshiping and serving God together.
That’s another aspect of being a chick, you’re part of a larger flock, you’re not alone. The Christian journey involves community, and it’s Christ that gathers us together, it’s Christ that fills us with divine Presence, and it’s as Christ’s Body that, together, we take action in the world. As Christians, from the ground of our being, the source of our life, we put trust into service, love into expression, even as we learn day by day how to open our hearts, how to swim around in silence and discover joy and peace, release from fear and worry, trusting more deeply God’s providential care. As we gather around the table today, we are not worshiping alone.
As we continue in the Lenten Season, discovering spiritual disciplines and the depths of faith, translating that into action even as life’s laments mix with hope and courage, may we seek out the protective wing of God so we can peek out to discover and explore the wonders of God’s larger world, all in the reality of God’s enfolding love. May Peace and All Good be with you, and may God be glorified, NOW, even as forever. Amen.