Renewal

A meditation shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC on December 12, 2021, the third Sunday of Advent. “Good Tidings” series.

          Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20

I have a plant that is dear to me because it was a memorial gift received for my father’s funeral service six years ago. It was small enough that I could carry it home with me on the plane. This plant is very good at telling me when it needs water. Its leaves begin to look thin and droop, unable to remain upright due to lack of their most vital requirement. As soon as I give it a drink, the response is dramatic. The plant is restored right before my eyes; the water renews its strength. 

Perhaps this image first came to mind as I reflected upon the words of the prophet Zephaniah because among all the good tidings from our text, the part that most struck me is, “God will renew you in his love.” At the end of this long year that has felt strangely short, I am painfully aware of how thin my resources are, how difficult it is to “keep my chin up” as daddy would say, how I often feel droopy like my plant when it’s thirsty. I’m aware of my own need for renewal—and I know I’m not alone. I observe frayed relationships and grieving families and whole communities grappling with trauma and anxiety. I’m aware of colleagues in ministry and school teachers and medical professionals who are burned out to the point of walking away from their vocations. I’m aware of the weary ones who continue to try to carry the banner for racial, gender, and economic equity and justice, for common sense gun laws, for access to education and health care and so much more. I’m aware of children and youth falling behind the learning curve and grappling with spikes in anxiety and depression. And, mercy, just think of the communities destroyed in minutes from tornadoes this week and all those still recovering from fires, floods and other increasingly intense natural disasters as a result of climate change. // “God will renew you…” Those are words I need to hear. 

The original audience needed these words as well. Zephaniah prophesied in Judah during the early years of King Josiah, around 640 BCE and before the king’s reforms address the mess Israel had made of things. Much of the short book (only three chapters) is searing judgment upon Israel for idolatry and syncretism (1:4-6), complacency (1:12), corrupt leadership (3:3-4), and injustice (3:1, 5). And yet quite abruptly the message shifts. The last word of the book—the way Zephaniah’s prophecy ends—is what we receive today: “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” And why the rejoicing? Because “The Lord has taken away the judgments against you…the Lord your God is in your midst…God will renew you in his love…God will deal with all your oppressors…will save the outcast…will bring you home…”

Picture it in your mind’s eye…a whole community—weighed down with the human mix of guilt, fear, anxiety, weariness, apathy and all the fruits of injustice—everyone drooping and weak, parched for what is most needed... and then news arrives that God is on the way and will not destroy, but save them. Like a drink of cool water, mercy and help and relief and guidance and love flow into the parched places. God’s love renews them all.

The end of Zephaniah feels a little bit like a stock photo, the old Deus ex machina, the knight in shining armor, Tammy Wynette “standing by her man.” It feels too easy, a bit contrived, a predictable ending to God’s love story. 

But I gotta say, right now, predictable love stories are giving me life and not a small measure of joy. Whether it’s Hallmark or Lifetime or Netflix or wherever, I’m quite happy to spend some time with completely overused plot points like two romantically challenged characters who meet, realize they’re destined to be together, encounter a series of problems meant to separate them, and by the end are wrapp