The scandal of Christian disunity. If you say you’re becoming closer to God but at the same time you’re becoming more judgmental of other Christians and more isolated from them, then you are kidding yourself. That’s not Jesus you’re getting closer to, but something else. Maybe dogma, or self-righteousness, or self-justifying purity tests. This is how people will know you are my disciples – if you love one another.

What is your poison? What is it that kills you? Anxiety? Fear? Anger? Guilt? Self-righteousness? Greed? We’ve all got our poison, our kryptonite, that thing that trips us time after time, that causes us pain and spoils our relationships. What is your poison? What color is your snake – green for envy, red for uncontrolled passion, yellow for cowardice? Today, let us take the vaccine. Let us come to the cross of Christ, and let us see there the antidote to the human condition.

There is another kind of anger – the kind that wakes up when it doesn’t get its own way, or when it feels slighted, or when it is stuck in a traffic jam, or when someone in a call center is having a bad day, or when it believes its privilege is threatened. But that is not worthy of us – the people who model our lives on Christ. Sometimes I like to kid myself that my anger is the righteous kind. Occasionally I pretend that I’m feeling angry for the sake of the poor, the marginalized, the victims, the suffering, when actually I’m more concerned about being right. My anger at people I disagree with is not so much about whether God’s will is being done; it’s about me owning my opponents, comforting myself that I am logical, reasonable, and Christlike and those others are just wrong and bad.

It’s tempting to want a small, tame, domestic cross. A cross that can fit neatly into our lives without too much inconvenience. Big enough to notice and to show off to the neighbors and guests; but not too big. I don’t want it to get into the way of me doing my own thing. This morning, this Lent, this trying season of pandemic, let’s explode the walls and rebuild our lives around the cross. Because "If any want to become his followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow him."

There are angels waiting on you. They went with you into the desert, when God threw you there, and they’ve been there all the time. It may be the wild beasts that make the most noise, but the angels are here – whispering their words of cam and hope. Sometimes they come in human form – and how we need each other. Sometimes they come in other forms. But God has sent them to support you and strengthen you until our forty days in this desert are over and we can return to one another.

What’s the key to soaring like an eagle? Waiting on the Lord. And if there’s one thing we should be really good at by now, it is waiting. You and I don’t need to be out there making things happen, doing deals, having meetings, planning the future. It is only on God’s thermals that we can soar. Desperately flapping our wings won’t cut it. I’m really excited that Lent is just ten days away, because it will give structure to our waiting.

God knocks us off our high horses not to humble us, though that is necessary; not to cause us pain, but that is important; not to expose our wrong-headedness and hard-heartedness, though that is always essential. God takes us low, to take us high. It’s what comes after the humbling that matters. God has a strategy for our lives. After we’ve sat in the dust and felt our bruises, contemplated our losses, and recovered our sight, we’ll be ready - to stand, to walk, to embrace what comes next – to go and open their eyes.

What are your nets? I’m not saying give up your job, your livelihood, the way the brothers did. We live complicated lives and when Jesus calls us it rarely involves giving up our careers, our homes, and source of income. (But don’t completely rule it out.) More likely is the call to enter a new relationship with your nets. One where they serve you not the other way round; where you use them for God’s kingdom, not your own; where they are handed over, and transformed into things that give joy and beauty to others.

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the addict experiences freedom;

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the narcissist learns humility;

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the greedy understand they are not the sum of their possessions.

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the insecure person discovers they can trust themselves and others.

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the angry person learns to rest and accept the way things are.

It is in knowing they are loved for who they are that the liar becomes content to speak the truth without fear.

It is in knowing we are loved for who we are that we are freed from being the center of attention, from having to get our own way, and from having to be right.

Words make worlds. Genesis 1 proves it, as does the gospel lesson from Mark, where God pronounces that Jesus is God’s Son with whom he is well pleased. Jesus proves it throughout the Gospels – he speaks peace to the wind and storms stop, he speaks healing to a sick person and health returns. Words make worlds. It is true for God and it’s true for us. And it is increasingly true the more power you have.

It is vital that people who can influence public opinion use words wisely. Words that heal; words that are kind; words that are humble, words that express belonging, inclusion, and unity; words, above all, that are true.