SERMON
St.
Simon’s on the Sound
February
17, 2019
Sixth
Sunday after Epiphany
"Thus says the Lord: Cursed are
those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength, whose
hearts turn away from the Lord. They shall be like a shrub in the desert, and
shall not see when relief comes. They shall live in the parched places of the
wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land."
(Jeremiah
17: 5-7)
“They
shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes.”
These verses from Jeremiah remind me so much of my time in the desert. A time
which I believe was vital to my spiritual growth, and a time that I will
treasure - always.
If
any of you have lived in the desert, you will know that it is a challenging and
often a deadly environment. The desert can be completely disorienting in its
sameness, and brutal in its climate, with drastic temperature changes between
day and night. During the noonday hours one hundred twenty degrees under
cloudless blue skies and a broiling, unshaded sun. Thirty degrees and below in
the dead of night. The sand acting as a chilled rock. The bone chilling cold
unrelenting as it creeps up through one’s feet and seeps into every joint and
limb.
The
desert is disorienting and full of illusions, too. Despite the fact that one is
surrounded by nothing but open space, it is extremely difficult to determine
what is in front or behind. The shimmering heat waves, the Joshua trees and
other desert shrubs frequently melt into a blur. A Joshua tree or a bush can
appear to be a man; and, a man can appear to be a Joshua tree or a bush.
Conversely,
the desert is a place of great beauty. Vast open expanses with only the sky and
distant snow topped mountains display God’s creation in all its glory.
If
one is seeking God, the desert is most definitely the place to be. God is in
the very air that one breaths. He is evident in the vibrantly beautiful desert
flowers and in the spectacular desert animals - all of them quite dangerous.
The vastness of the ages – God's creation - can be seen in the multiple
striations of the mountains. Mountains that have been there since the beginning
of time, once completely under water and now rising 10,000-12,000 feet above
land.
It
should be fairly easy to see in the desert. Clear air; open spaces; no fog or
rain; no real traffic (we lived in a town with only two stoplights, and that
was excessive); and, for most of the year daylight hours that go on forever.
Yet, it is very easy to get lost, to lose one's way, in the desert - very, very
easy. And, once lost it is almost impossible to reorient oneself. It becomes
terrifyingly difficult to find a path to safety; or, to recognize help once it
arrives.
So
it is with us, whether we are in the desert or not. Despite the presence of God
with us, in open spaces or in crowded spaces, it is as if we are actually in
that Nevada desert - a place where one should be able to see, but where
illusions created by mere mortals, the Joshua trees, and the sharp glimmering
heat waves of everyday life, blind us in such a manner that our way is lost. We
cannot see relief even as it approaches. It is so easy to lose
our way – so easy to be distracted by material, political, and personal
matters. It is so easy to turn our hearts away from the Lord.
Jesus was a man of the
desert. Of course, he understood the perils of the arid and barren land that
was his home - the territory in which he delivered his message – the Good News.
Certainly, Jesus knew how easy it was to get disoriented, to get lost in the
desert, metaphorically as well as actually. Certainly, he also knew that the
open spaces, the cloudless skies, and the beauty that can be found in the barrenness
of the desert were where he would find his way; where he would stay in touch
with God. It was in the stark solitude and vastness of the barren desert that Jesus
continually found and communed with God.
No frills, simply the
presence of God as Sovereign of His Creation.
In our Jeremiah passage,
the Lord continues saying, "Blessed
are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is in the Lord. They shall be like
a tree planted by water, sending out is roots by the stream. It shall not fear
when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green…"
This image reminds me of
a place in California's Death Valley called Devil's Hole. Devil's Hole is a lush,
green oasis in the midst of some of the most dangerous desert in the world. The
oasis is home to an extensive underground water system that leads to a cavern
over 500 feet deep. Devil's Hole is where a species known as Pupfish can be
found. It is estimated that the Pupfish have been residents of Devil's Hole for
10,000-20,000 years. Think of it, 10,000-20,000 years.
Whenever I stood by the
water filled cavern watching the playful little Pupfish and then looked outward
and upward at nothing but pale-yellow sand and distant 12,000 snow-topped foot
mountains, I was overwhelmed by the vastness and the beauty of God's Creation. I
experienced God as I never had before. There were no distractions – there was
nothing except God as Sovereign; God as Creator. God the Creator who had been
present in this very place for over 20,000 years.
That distinct awareness
of the sovereignty of God has never left me. I consider with awe my minuscule
place in a creation that is so vast and so ancient that it cannot be imagined. I
am humbled at the thought that God created me – created all of us – with
intention. We each have a role in His Kingdom, that is for certain.
During my time in the
desert, my relationship with God was cemented in a new and lasting way.
In today's gospel, Jesus
tells the apostles, the disciples, and a great multitude of people – Jews and
Gentiles alike - that those who are poor, those who are hungry, those who are
sad, and those who have been rejected will one day leap for joy, for their
reward will be great in heaven.
Conversely, Jesus teaches
that the rich, the satiated, the happy, the well-known will experience great
woes.
Obviously, we don't know
for certain what Jesus intended in this teaching. But we do know that these
words were offered directly after Jesus descended from the mountain after a
time of deep prayer, and that they imply that in order to be blessed by God, in
order for our reward to be great in heaven, we need not be rich or famous. Rather,
we need to have experienced the desert, literal or figurative. It is in the
desert, in barrenness, in desolation that we truly experience God the Father, the
glory of God's Creation, the sovereignty of God.
Bottom line - we need to
find ways that bring us into deep relationship with God, to know that we are
God's intended children, and to trust that God is there for us, always and
forever.
The desert, whether
literal or figurative, is not a bad place to be – at least from time to time. The
desert is a place where if we do not lose our way by succumbing to
pre-occupations and illusions, we can find God by seeing so clearly the beauty
and Sovereignty of his Creation. Literal or figurative, the desert is the best
place that I know of to both see God and to be close to God.
As we prepare to walk our
Lenten journey, a time for reflection and repentance, I pray that we will set
aside our tendency to place our trust in mere mortals, set aside our tendencies
to want more – more of anything, or more of everything. I pray that our hearts
will be still and that we will imagine ourselves in a desert surrounded by vast
and barren land populated only by Joshua trees and bushes and ringed by 12,000-foot
snow-capped mountains. I pray that as we journey through the desert of our
minds we will arrive at Devil's Hole and with joy and amazement watch the
Pupfish play in water that has seeped into their cavern for the past
10,000-20,000 years.
I pray that as we live
the experience of our Lenten desert, having nothing but the Sovereignty of
God's Creation to distract us, we will draw closer and closer to Jesus as he
walks in the Judean Desert on the journey to his Crucifixion and his
Resurrection.
I pray that our desert
experience will carry us to a new place in our relationship with God. One which
is cemented in a level of trust that leaves us like a tree planted by water
sending it roots out by the stream.
