Through Stained Glass: A Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Lent

"Over the years, I have come to realize that the greatest trap in our life is not success, popularity, or power, but self-rejection....When we have come to believe in the voices that call us worthless and unlovable, then success, popularity, and power are easily perceived as attractive solutions....Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the 'Beloved.' Being the Beloved constitutes the core truth of our existence." Henri Nouwen

“Choosing to Get Lost”

Matthew 4.1-11

Sunday, March 1, 2020

If there ever were a season to get lost, Lent is the one. After all, this is the season when we intentionally examine our lives and seek out the ways we have wandered away from God. By no means does this mean Lent is a season of condemnation. Instead, it is a season when we can be honest with God, with each other, and with ourselves. It is a time when, with the terror of judgment removed, we can speak the truth. Lent, then, is a season of deliverance. A time when we can deepen our desire to accept the good news and the new life that God gives us in Christ. Arriving at this place of discovery and choice is going to take time and an intentional effort to get lost.

Take a moment and consider the times you have experienced lostness. How did you respond to whatever you lost? Growing up, some of us remember road trips that involved pulling off to the side of the road and our parents unfolding a map the size of a dashboard to figure out just how we got into this 'National Lampoon' mess of a road trip. Before there was Siri, there was the walk of shame parents made from the car to the gas station clerk to ask for directions. What about luggage? I think anyone who has traveled by plane has had that dreadful moment of waiting at the baggage claim only never to see your bright orange suitcase—which you got so you wouldn't lose it—and the airline informs you they aren't sure where your bag went. Before 5G networks were a thing, but also some places still on the Middletown Blacktop, we tell the folks we are on the phone with, hands-free of course, that we might lose them here in a minute. We know the feeling of panic when we lose a family heirloom; the sense of heartache when we see a 'lost dog or cat poster'; and because we are human, we are all too familiar with the feeling we get when we have lost someone to cancer, depression, or death.

            Being lost is a part of our story. And at the risk of driving the point into the ground, I wanted to make sure we realized that though we may have lost something in life, we are still here. What we lost may have caused a lot of pain, a lot of problems, and maybe even a lot of trouble, and we might still be feeling the effects of our lostness, we are a resilient people and what we have lost, whether we found it or not, has only made us stronger. Getting lost isn’t such a bad thing, especially when we know we have a way back to the light.

        While Jesus didn't get lost per se in the wilderness, I believe he took a route that wasn't the shortest distance between point A and point B. The time Jesus spent in the wilderness was vital to his ministry…and to his identity. The desert scene presents the Tempter testing Jesus's fidelity to his integrity and his faithfulness to God. While the tempter (the actual name for Satan) distorts and misuses the Scriptures, Jesus is shown to be the one who listens to God's teachings and fully embodies them in his own life. Jesus does not overreach his role as "the Beloved," misuse his power or allow his liberty to become his license. Jesus's power and freedom do not become self-serving but are in service to his calling. 

            The first Sunday of Lent always has us reading the temptation of Christ in the wilderness. It is placed at the beginning of our journey to encourage us to enter into those wild places of our lives and see what tempts us from abandoning the love and light of God. Perhaps you are thinking, "Why do we have to go out into the wilderness to do this work? Why can't we do this from the comfort of our sanctuary? I bet we could find an app to help us on this journey." Probably so, and we can do the work from the comfort of our safe places. However, there is wisdom in the wilderness that the convenience of our church can't provide. Consider the fact that it is the Spirit that drives Jesus into the wilderness. Jesus doesn’t meander out there on his own. He doesn’t schedule a National Geographic expedition, or a marathon in the desert to rack up Fitbit steps. According to Matthew’s Gospel, the Spirit leads Jesus into the wilderness, specifically “to be tempted by the devil.” Jesus, like those in the flood story, Moses’ sojourn at Sinai, Elijah’s journey to Mount Horeb, and Jonah’s call to Nineveh, discovers in the wilderness how even in the most desolate of places, God can bring redemption.

       Let's be honest for a moment, shall we? Who wants to do that? Who wants to take the long route, risking punctuality and safety, for the sake of discovering our truth? Who wants to head out into the wilderness of life—where we must confront our false self, sit with our weaknesses, and where we are the most vulnerable? And yet, this is what we are to do in this season. Here is where we must return to God and allow the Spirit to guide us to our truths. If Jesus's forty days in the wilderness is a time of self-exploration, a time for Jesus to choose who he is and how he will live out his calling, then consider carefully what the Son of God chooses: deprivation over ease. Vulnerability over rescue. Obscurity over honor. Instead, when Jesus could choose certainty, the extraordinary, and the miraculous, Jesus chooses the precarious, the quiet, and the mundane. In the wilderness Jesus shows us how in getting lost, or abandoning the easiest route, we will find ourselves face to face with whatever it is that prevents us from loving God with our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength.

            Earlier I mentioned some benign forms of getting lost. I did this because it gives us a launching pad into contemplating how getting lost or losing something impacts us. It was a chance to see how, on some small scale, we know how to traverse the wilderness when we are lost. Sometimes our lostness in the wilderness is as trivial as a misplaced bag or a wrong turn. Other times we get lost in the deserts of a "hospital waiting room, a toxic relationship, a troubled child, a sudden death, or an unshakeable depression. Wherever we find ourselves lost, we don't (for the most part) volunteer for pain, loss, anger, or terror." But the wilderness still happens. The truth is, we are here today—proof that we made it out or are currently making our way through the wildness of life.

 Getting lost is a valuable experience. Of course, it is only valuable when you have support or the assurance of getting found. I feel I must make a caveat that I'm not suggesting you put yourself in harm’s way or great danger in your attempt to get lost to discover God. What I am challenging you to do this coming week is take a safe, calculated risk, and get lost. Resist the message put on us by modern culture that getting to point a to point b is the best option. Instead, take time to explore the wild places in your life. Get off the beaten path and wrestle with the temptations in your life. Don’t be afraid to follow Jesus into the wilderness and lose your bearings for a moment. Because the unnerving fact is this: we can be beloved and uncomfortable at the same time. We can be beloved and unsafe at the same time.  Barbara Brown Taylor offers this wisdom about this journey, "In the wilderness, the love that survives is tough, not soft.  Salvific, not sentimental."  Learning to trust it takes time. And remember, not only do you have the church as your safety net, but you have the same Spirit waiting on you that waited on Jesus in his discovery of his truth.

            So.  What does Jesus’s temptation story offer to us as we begin our Lenten journeys this year? It gives us a chance to take a different route to deepen our relationship with God, our neighbors, and ourselves. Maybe it is inviting us to intentionally enter the wilderness and confront our demons: pride, arrogance, resentment, or despair. Maybe our Lenten journey means we finally decide who we are and whose we are.

            Let us not be afraid to get lost. Let us have courage in wrestling with the temptations we face. And let us remember that as we embrace our humanity, the Spirit of God will be with us and is preparing us for when we get lost. May it be so.