Wilderness Wanderings

"Lord, I look to you to save me" (Genesis 49:18).

Pastor Anthony discovered that the Hebrew word which we translate hope turns up in the Bible well before Ruth. You guessed it, it turns up here in our text. But you didn't hear it or read it, because the NIV translators use the phrase 'look to'. You'll just have to trust us on this.

I discovered that many Biblical scholars don't like this verse much. It doesn't fit, you see. Most of Genesis 49 is the record of Jacob blessing his sons before he dies. In the middle of his monologue directed towards his sons, he has this line directed towards God, "I wait in hope for your salvation, Lord God."

There is something very curious about this little prayer: it's the only time the name, 'The Lord God', is used in this chapter. In fact, it hasn't been used since chapter 39 and it won't be used again until the book of Exodus. We're talking here about the covenant name of God, through which he bound himself to Abraham and his descendants. Some of you many be familiar with its Hebrew form, YHWH.

One more thing before we attempt to understand this. The verses surrounding our text make references to attacks. In both attacks, the targets are heels. Is that important? I think so. As you may know, Jacob was the younger twin. He was born, 'grasping his brother's heel'. Jacob means, "grasping the heel" (Genesis 25:26).

Jacob spent much of his life grasping for things, trying to get ahead. This resulted in the breakdown of relationships: first with his brother, then between his wives, then with his uncle and then between his sons.

His sons were now following his example. He sees both Dan and Gad, the sons referenced in these verses, in tenuous positions, striking at the heel of those more powerful than they are.

Perhaps those thoughts led Jacob to express this hope for deliverance.

In this whole story of Joseph being sold as a slave to Egypt, the Lord God, has been relegated to the shadows. Is Jacob calling upon the Lord to come out into the open? Is Jacob saying that the only hope for his tribe left when he dies is the Lord God?

"I've made a mess," it seems Jacob is saying, "Lord, you will need to clean it up." I think that this may indeed be what Jacob is saying.

And it's a good word for today. I often find that God's people are a lot like Jacob, they make a mess of things. They grasp for things, especially power. Ask non-Christians what they think about us and the response is rarely affirming. This week a report was published confirming that Ravi Zacharias was indeed guilty of many sexual assaults and other sexual sins. Here's another Christian leader so many looked up made a mess of things. The denomination that gave him pastoral credentials revoke them posthumously. A first. How many women carry the scars of his sins? We will never know.

The church today is just like Jacob's sons, messed up and making messes. We shouldn't make excuses for any of it. Its bad and we need to acknowledge this. But there is hope, our Lord God, who has bound himself to us in Christ Jesus, will finish his work of redemption.

Like Jacob we cry out, "Lord, I look to you to save us." And with the Spirit we pray, "Come, Lord Jesus, come."

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Mark 10:13-16, 35-45 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN

1. What does the word humility mean to you, and how does it look when you live it?

2. In what ways have Christians or the church taken on the pursuits of power like the disciples in Mark 10? In what ways do you seek that kind of power, influence, or security for yourself?

3. A popular idea of humility suggests that we need to diminish or deny our gifts, abilities, or interests. Does that match up with Jesus' way of humility?

4. How might you surrender your interests, passions, gifts, abilities, and desires to God? Are there ways God might be inviting you to offer those same gifts, abilities, and resources in service to others?

5. We are followers of Jesus who have indeed been baptized into his death and resurrection and who drink from his cross-pointing cup. How might you follow Jesus in his humble way of surrender and service, especially in this time?

"Look, I am coming soon! … The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!" And let the one who hears say, "Come!" Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life. … He who testifies to these things says, "Yes, I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. (Revelation 22:12a, 17, 20).

The first instance of hope in the Bible erupts out of hopelessness in Naomi's story and points ahead to Jesus. The final instance of hope in the Bible comes on the last page and points ahead to Jesus.

We may feel stuck in a rut, hopeless in this dark world, as Naomi did. We may feel wearily unable to lift our eyes, hearts, or prayers to heaven. Unable to do anything for God or approach God or even muster much of a belief in God.

If that's you, the one feeling hopelessly unable to come to God, then hear this final word of the scriptures: Jesus is coming to us.

"Behold, I am coming soon!" says Jesus. And we hear the Spirit respond with "come!" And the church, the bride responds with: "come!" Indeed, all those with an ear to hear the good word of the Gospel join the chorus with their response of "come!"

Then Jesus responds again in affirmation: "Yes, I am coming soon."

In the moments when we feel overwhelmed by the world, the day, our work, or the burdens of our lives, remember that Jesus has promised to come to us. Remember that he's coming to set all things right and make all things new. Remember He's coming to give us a home and place to belong. Remember He's coming to give us rest, refreshment, and peace. Remember that He's coming to wipe every tear from our eyes and put an end to pain and to death.

And remember, that even when you can't muster a prayer yourself, remember that the Spirit in it's prayers of groaning, along with the larger Church of Christ we're a part of continues to pray these words even when we can't, praying for Jesus to come.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Return home, my daughters; I am too old to have another husband. Even if I thought there was still hope for me—even if I had a husband tonight and then gave birth to sons—would you wait until they grew up? Would you remain unmarried for them? No, my daughters. It is more bitter for me than for you, because the Lord's hand has turned against me!" (Ruth 1:12-13).

As Pastor Anthony pointed out yesterday, Wilderness Wanderings editions of Lent 2021 will explore hope. Where to begin? How about a search for hope in the Bible? Its first occurrence in the NIV is here in our text, Ruth 1:12.

What a place for hope to show up!

Here's the story in a nutshell. Naomi and her husband fled famine in their hometown of Bethlehem, Judea. It was an act of disobedience to the God of Israel. Famine was understood as an act of judgement. God had said through both Moses and Joshua that obedience would lead to flourishing and disobedience to judgement, famine being close to the top of the list of God's punishments.

However, judgement and punishments were also God's call to his people to return to him. But Naomi and her husband, instead of returning to God in obedience, ran away from him. They landed in Moab where their two sons married Moabite women. Also acts of disobedience, because non-Jewish people were bound to lead their Jewish spouses away from God.

Naomi's husband and her sons die. They are buried in Moab. According to her cultural norms, Naomi has nothing left. When she hears that there is food again in her homeland she decides to return, destitute. As she says, "Don't call me Naomi, which means pleasant, but Mara, which means bitter" (1:20).

As she leaves Moab, her two daughters-in-law decide to trek along. But she discourages them with the words of our text. 'There is no hope for me,' she says, 'don't pin your future on me, because there is nothing for me.'

Hopeless.

Maybe we wouldn't put it as strongly as Naomi, but many of us have had such feelings, especially in this past year. We have a sense of what Naomi is expressing.

But Naomi had it wrong. Her life was not hopeless. Why not? Because God was still around. The beauty of Naomi's story is that God is in the shadows. He doesn't do anything on page. He is only referred to in the common greetings among the Israelites: "The Lord be with you!" "The Lord bless you!" Its like he's hiding in the corners, hidden by shadows.

But he is there. And he's at work. At the end of the story Naomi bounces a grandson on her lap. And that grandson becomes an ancestor of Jesus Christ. God saved Naomi from bitterness and made her laugh. Jesus is our Saviour: he takes our bitterness and fills our mouths with laughter. He is our hope.

In Lent, we usually focus on our mortality. 'Dust to dust and ashes to ashes' is Ash Wednesday's refrain.

This year let's look in the corners and shadows and see God at work. Let's see how God is our hope. Let's already now reach out for Easter

The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to [Jesus]. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written: "The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, "Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." (Luke 4:17-21)

This Coronavirus 2019 crisis began for us in Canada on Wednesday, March 11, 2020 when the WHO declared it a global pandemic. Within a week, our life had changed drastically. In the church calendar, the season was Lent. The season of giving things up in order to focus on God.

As we begin again into Lent this year, I can't help but think of our Lenten journey of last year. It seems almost that Lent never ended. We got stuck somewhere around Good Friday, but never quite made it into the freedom, light, and life of Easter Sunday.

We passed through not just a pandemic, but a confrontation with deep racial disparities, injustice, and prejudice—not just in the US, not just in Canada, but within our very selves. We witnessed deep political divides and deep divides over how to navigate pandemic restrictions that drove families, churches, and neighbours apart—and that still do. We witnessed a lot of injury, disease, mental health challenges, substance abuse, and death, too.

But into this too-long Lenten journey enters Jesus, speaking the same words spoken at the last funeral in our church. Jesus enters, and in the face of the death, injustice, and divisions before us—he proclaims good news to the poor, hit disproportionately hard by pandemic restrictions; he proclaims freedom for the prisoners of human trafficking; recovery of sight for the blind majority who cannot see their own misery and need for salvation; the setting free of those oppressed by racially biased structures in society; the year of jubilee to effect a true, just, and restorative reconciliation between us all.

"Today," Jesus said, "this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing." Jesus was anointed by the Spirit to make these proclamations and also to make them true in the real lives of real people in this world.

Dare we believe that this is the work Jesus is still doing among us? Even now? Even today? Even in the midst of so much death, division, and despair? That Jesus still proclaims the Good News of the Gospel of Salvation in Him, and the promise of freedom, restoration, renewal, and a great setting-right of all things now wrong?

In just that peculiar belief, lies our Christian hope.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of the season of Lent. But instead of focusing on ourselves and the things we need to give up, confess, or do better in (as we might usually do for Lent), we're going to focus instead on our Christian Hope in these things that God has done, is doing, and will do until they are done.

For us as Christians, that hope begins and ends with Jesus.

I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you (Genesis 28:15).

As promised, we return to this word of God to Jacob, a promise made to him as he fled from his brother's anger.

In my devotion last Tuesday, I wondered how African slaves sold on the American auction block kept hope alive. I'm sure the answer is very complex, but I think we catches glimpses of it in their songs such as Swing Low Sweet Chariot. This is a song about hope and the promised land rooted in biblical promises such as the one we have in our text. God says, I will bring you back to this land.

Remember that I pointed out that Jacob is running for his life. His brother is angry with him. And the anger is justified. Jacob has connived and tricked his brother out of the family birthright and blessing that normally went to the oldest son.

But at the heart of Jacob's action is a lack of faith in God. Rebekah, Jacob's mother, had learned, even before her twins were born, that the older would serve the younger. But instead of allowing God time to fulfill his promise, they had acted together to trick father Isaac and brother Esau.

Yet, God promises to bring Jacob home. And he does it. This theme of God fulfilling his promise in the midst of unbelief continues throughout the Bible. When the people of Israel reach the promised land, they don't believe that God can bring them in. They are banished to the wilderness for a generation, but God brings their children into it.

Later, when Israel refuses to worship God, he threatens to remove them from the land. They don't take him seriously; they keep sinning. Even as God sends Israel into Exile, he promises to bring them back. He will resettle them in the promised land. He had promised Abraham that this land would belong to his children forever. He will keep his promise.

What does all this have to do with Christians today? Well, at least two things. First, it points towards Jesus on the cross. Paul is emphatic, that Christ died for us while we were still sinners, enemies, even, of God. When we read about Israel, we read our own stories. We are saved by grace, nothing else. There is joy in that.

Secondly, we are promised a land as well: a renewed earth. We have something to look forward to. We believe that there is life after death. While the details might be few, one thing is clear, the renew earth will be way better than this one. And God will be with us all the way from here to there.

Those things deserve a party don't they. Put a little celebration into your day today, as you consider the hope we have in God.

That hope of a renewed earth fueled the songs of African slaves in the Americas. It's a hope that belongs to all Christians. It's a hope that we need today.

Tomorrow is the first day of Lent. In these Wilderness Wanderings, we will use Lent to explore the many dimensions of Christian hope. Hope that we enable us to endure in our wildernesses.

A special, extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is John 6:25-59 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What are you hungry for?

2. What material or finite things do you attempt to fill your hunger/thirst/longings with?

3. In what way does Jesus' promise of real food, real drink, and real life meet your hunger/thirst/longings?

4. What does Jesus mean when he says: "Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you"? How do we do that eating/drinking? What does he mean by "life in you"?

5. How has this scripture and sermon helped to refresh or challenge your participation in the Lord's Supper?

My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, "Where is your God?" These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I used to go to the house of God under the protection of the Mighty One with shouts of joy and praise among the festive throng. Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God. (Psalm 42:3-5)

Back in 2011, I spent some time in Bethlehem immersed in a study of the conflict between Israel and Palestine. A Lutheran church we visited there was partnered with an organization that taught the arts to youth. Dance, painting, drama, poetry. They said, "we often get the question about why, given the pressing needs of just surviving in the midst of so much suffering, why we invest scarce resources in something so seemingly frivolous as the arts."

I'm reminded of that conversation as we pass through this second lockdown. It seems that most of us have switched over into survival mode. Our passions, creativity, and hope for a brighter day just aren't stirred like they were the first time round last Spring. We're tired. We're done. The isolation has flattened our experience and sucked the life and colour out of our days. So we just trudge along in survival mode.

The Psalmist paints a good picture of this: our souls are downcast and disturbed within us. People are wondering and doubting where God is in this whole mess as the church looks back on those days when we "used to go to the house of God." Tears have been a companion as we witness to death and deep pain and illness among our loved ones.

But then in the midst of this work of just surviving through the suffering, the Psalmist turns and talks to their own soul, making a strange, counterintuitive choice. "Put your hope in God my soul, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."

Why did that organization in Bethlehem invest in training Palestinian youth in the arts? "Because," they said, "when this conflict is over, we'll need to know more than just how to survive, we'll need to know how to live."

When the day comes that this pandemic is over, we too will need to remember how to do more than just survive. We too will need to remember how to live. I don't know of a better way to keep the hope of life in Christ alive within our soul than to face down our dark valleys, disturbed hearts, and downcast souls, and, like the Psalmist, choose to praise the Lord anyway. Even, and especially, when we don't feel like it.

*There won't be a devotion on Monday because of Family Day. We'll resume on Tuesday, then enter into our Lenten series on Ash Wednesday.

I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you (Genesis 28:15).

The Bible is full of promises: from God's promise to Adam and Eve to bring redemption all the way to Jesus promise that he is coming back. The Bible's narrative, one might say, is propelled forward by these promises.

On Tuesday, I spoke about God's promises to Jacob as he fled from his angry twin. The Bible does not portray Jacob as morally or even spiritually upstanding in any way. Throughout his story, his faults are front and centre. It is important to see this, because the Bible is not about upstanding humans whom we ought to emulate. Rather, it is the story of God's faithfulness to unfaithful humans.

So, let's take a look at the promises God made to Jacob and hear them as promises made to us, who are very much like Jacob. We need to hear them in the midst of the mess that life is for us, some of it, of our own making, not from the spiritual mountain tops.

The first part of the promise is that God will be with Jacob as he flees. In Jacob's day, most people believed that the deities only had power in local areas; they had no power outside it. Thus, it is remarkable that God can go with Jacob wherever he ends up. David explores this in Psalm 139, finding comfort in the reality that he cannot escape God's presence.

Jesus leaves his disciples with the same promise as he returns to heaven (Matthew 28:18-20). He gives this promise even though some doubted (17). He makes good on his promise by sending his Holy Spirit. This Spirit reminds us that we are the children of the heavenly father.

The second part of the promise to Jacob is that God will watch over him. Again, it is a promise that Israel as a whole, comes to claim. Psalm 121 is probably the most well known that places this promise into the liturgy of Israel and the church. It became part of the liturgy because it is a difficult thing to believe. We sing it to each other to shore up our faltering belief.

Jesus reworked this promise when he said, "I will build my church" (Matthew 16:18). We know it is part of this promise because Jesus is quick to add, "And the realm of the dead will not overcome it". The church is up against the worst kind of enemy, but Jesus will keep his church. He makes this promise to a group who probably would not be permitted to make 'profession of faith' in our church. They just didn't get who Jesus was, yet the promise is made. And to this day, he has kept it.

God also promises Jacob that Jacob will return to his father's land. God will see it done. God will bring him back. That part of God's promise receives all kinds of layers as the biblical story progresses. Too many layers for us to consider today. We'll save that for next Tuesday.

But let me at least say this about that part of the promise. It ends in a party. So, Tuesday will be party day. And it will lead us into the season of Lent 2021.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

If life is a race, most of us are bent over in the turf panting for air right now.

It's great that the writer of Hebrews invites us to throw off everything that hinders in order to run that Christian race, but at the moment, the heaviest burdens on our shoulders are not ones that we put there ourselves. The heaviest burdens are imposed on us by the isolation and anxieties of lockdown, or by ugly health journeys with ugly diseases, or by the death of friends and loved ones. So how exactly are we to cast those off?

Well, I think if I were to speak for the writer of Hebrews, to put it bluntly, they'd say: we're not supposed to throw those things off. Sin we cast off, but some other burdens are part of the race itself.

The place we get refreshed for the race is not our own deep well of strength to power through, throw off burdens, or pivot to positive thinking. We get refreshed not by focusing on ourselves, but by zooming out to focus on the larger and longer story of God that we're a part of: the past, present, and future as God has defined them. The invitation of Hebrews is to Memory of the past, Faith in the present, and Hope for the future.

We remember our Lord who himself suffered death and shame, facing the worst of what we face too—he didn't cast it off, he bore it, and he still bears those burdens with us today. We remember too that great cloud of witnesses, those saints and loved ones who dwell now with God. The ones who have gone before us in the faith facing pandemics and plagues, persecution and martyrdom, monotonous days and purposelessness. They surround and cheer us on even now, reminding us not to give up, and that faith in Jesus is never in vain.

Indeed, it's on him that we're invited to fix our eyes—not on the hard path of the race course, nor on our own inability to run it—but on Jesus. The Jesus who is himself with us and working out his purposes in us: perfecting our faith, even here and now.

And the hope is that Jesus will indeed see our faith and our race through to completion. To consummation. To perfection. On that day when he welcomes us home to take our place in the great cloud of witnesses.

We might be winded and burdened right now. The race is hard and the burdens are heavy. So remember then, that you're not alone. Jesus is with you now, and will see you through to the end. Fix your eyes on him in memory, faith, and hope.