– The Rev. Zach Sasser
As we begin, I invite you to look at the image of the boy on the front of your bulletin. What could his name be? What could his story be? Where does he live? Who are his parents and what do they do for a living? What is he feeling? What is he thinking? What’s going on in his life, and how does it shape his world view?
The image was created by one of the artists from the collective of pastors and artists called, “A Sanctified Art.” It’s intended to help you reflect on the scriptures we have received today. I must say that it is a more wholesome image than we could have received, given that this is the third week in a row that the readings have offered apocalyptic prophecies and themes!
Between these readings and the guy on the corner, I saw yesterday with a giant cross and a sign that said, “Tomorrow May Be Too Late!” it’s hard not to wonder if God is trying to tell us something. Of course, God is always speaking to us in the midst of our busy days, we just can’t seem to hear it through all of the noise.
Really, the noise doesn’t seem to be that much different than what we read in the scriptures today. Just as the fires finally died down in California, we hear that a systemic shock registered around the world and resulted in an earth quake in Alaska! We have ongoing political tensions in our nation that make it hard for siblings to talk and parents to guide. We have virtual friends that would rather condemn than discuss differences, and we have a host of other issues related to the struggle of being a decent human being in a world that doesn’t seem to care about decency and civility.
Maybe it’s a bit rich to say that Jeremiah’s story is our story. None of us were carted here against our will. None of us live in occupied territory, yet all of us know something of the feeling that nothing less than an act of God could fix the mess we’ve made of this world.
No, I think we are less like the Prophet Jeremiah, and more like the truth telling spirit of my friend Ashley. The story goes that once upon a time she and some of my other friends were mountain biking, even though this was not in her skill set. At a certain point, the group decided to wait for her to catch up. They asked some passing bikers if they’d seen a young blond woman on the trail. They said, “You mean the woman who is cussing and praying to Jesus, Buddha, and anyone else that might be listening?”
Yeah, that was Ashley. I’m sad to say that while Ashley made it home that day, there was another day that she did not. Her car swerved off the road one night, and no one knows why. I can tell you that she had a Christian funeral, because I was the one Steve called on to do it.
I don’t tell you this to scare you. I tell you this because it’s the long dark night after the loss that passages like these are for. They are to remind us that the diagnosis is not the final word. They are to remind you that righteousness and justice have come and that more is on the way.
As I thought about these texts this week, I couldn’t help but think of the song, Shake It Out, and the lines, “It’s always darkest before the dawn, and it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back. So, shake it out!” Of course, for those of us that have grown up in the church, that line about the Devil on your back reminds us of the hymn, “Here I am, Lord.”
More important than the emotion that song conjures up is the belief that Jesus did exactly that – danced with the Devil on his back – and he did it for us. This same Jesus is the one that tells us to look around. He tells us to make use of what we see and to recognize when judgement is coming. He tells us to pay attention to the created order of things, and when things are at their worst that is the time to hold our heads up high!
That reminds me of the image we looked up earlier. His head is held high, and now you know why. He realizes that he is no longer defined by the expectations of others, but only by the grace of God. He has come to realize that the darkness that he might face is only an indicator that the light is coming.
I think that Jesus would agree with this boy, and I think he would agree with Florence and the Time Machine about darkness and shaking off the Devil, but what we’ve got to figure out is how all of that walks and talks.
First off, we have to be clear that there are some harsh realities of being human that need inspired doctors and medicines and care givers. Mental illness and cancer and trauma are not things you can just shake off. Yet it is our faith that reminds us again and again and again that pain and suffering never have the last word.
It is nothing less than faith that allows us to hold our heads up, and it is our uncommon unity as people of faith that moves us past the threshold and into the light. At the risk of being cliché, I’m going to quote another of my favorite theologians, Pat Benatar. Even though it was written as a love song, I couldn’t help but think of you when I heard her on the radio the other day.
We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder. [I used to think she was saying “Father,” which would totally change this into a testimony of faith.]
We belong to the sounds of the words we’ve both fallen under.
Whatever we deny or embrace, for worse or for better
We belong, we belong, we belong together.”
That’s pretty much what Paul had to say to the church in Thessalonica. He told them what I told many of you about our Thanksgiving meal, “We’re always better together.”
The thing to remember, though, is that we aren’t better together because it feels good for us. We are better together because it gives us a greater opportunity to love those who aren’t “us.”
So, if you find yourself in a dark place of mind, body, or spirit, remember that it is always darkest before the dawn. The end of all things could be near. The end of some things is always near. What matters most is that we’ve been given each other to love through it all, and there’s a world of people out there that need what we have.
So, let’s stand in awe before God together. Let’s be overwhelmed and draw near in wonder at the amazing thing that God has done for us through Jesus, who is the Christ. Let us hold our heads high in the gathering gloom and welcome the stranger, even though it means that we risk losing everything as we draw nearer and nearer to the One who has come near to us. Amen.
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