Sermon Notes: Fourth Sunday in Lent
Psalm 23
1 Samuel 16.1-13
Ephesians 5.8-14
John 9.1-41
Our Good Shepherd Sees for Us
To say that these past few weeks have been unsettling, disruptive, and challenging would be an understatement. I've never experienced anything like this in my lifetime.
In the spirit of Lent, and in the presence of God I have asked--What am I learning about myself in these times? And, What are You, God, teaching me in these circumstances?
One of the more unsettling themes that has come up over and over again in the past few weeks is my inability, our inability, to see.
Our modern self has been conditioned, trained and educated, to think that we have more control over things than we actually do--that we can see things more clearly than we actually can. And yet on occasions like this, real reality breaks into our lives to remind us otherwise.
We can't see the Coronavirus. That is to say that we don't know exactly where it is, or where it is spreading. We can only know, see, after the fact.
And we didn't see this pandemic coming.
And we can't see the impact that this will have on our economy--our own personal economy, but also the impact this will have economically in our country, and the entire world. This lack of vision, this uncertainty, this inability to see is what generates so much of the anxiety that we are feeling right now. If only we could see, and know, and prepare ourselves, protect ourselves, save ourselves from all that may come.
The closures of schools and workplaces have led to immediate financial hardship all over our community--and the fact that we are unable to see when this will end and what kind of damage it will do to our lives is partly what contributes to our angst and insecurity. We want to do something; to take some action that will make a difference. But we can't see.
For some of our students, internships and jobs offers have been rescinded. What will this mean for their futures? For many others, a variety of opportunities have been put on hold. Will those opportunities come again, or have they been taken away forever? We can't see; we don't know.
Our Scripture lessons this morning are held together, in part, with the theme of seeing. For example, our lesson from Psalm 23 reminds us that in the midst of our valley of darkness, that is to say, in the midst of our "unseeing", our Good Shepherd sees. He sees for us. Because He sees, He guides, leads, provides, protects, and is present with us in our valleys of the shadow of death, in the midst of our enemies (even viruses) that seek to destroy us. In this psalm of confidence (a psalm meant to generate confidence in God's care for our lives), we are reminded that God's goodness and mercy pursue us (the Hebrew word translated as "follow" [23.6], is better translated "pursue") all our days. For this reason, because the God we entrust our lives to, the LORD, the Good Shepherd, sees, we shall not want (which is to say, we shall not lack what we need). Psalm 23 reminds us that in the midst of our uncertain futures, in the midst of all that we cannot see, God is watching out for us. He sees. He knows. He is accomplishing His will in our lives--He leads us in the right paths for His name's sake. And that is sufficient. We can rest in knowing that He sees for us.
We are reminded that our hope has never been that we can see (or control our world), that we can know what will happen; rather, our hope is that we have been invited entrust ourselves to One who not only sees, but who sees with our good in mind; the One who sees and who will place us into circumstances in which His character, His goodness will be displayed. In a counter-intuitive fashion, we are told that we are wise to give up our sight, to relinquish trust in our own eyes, in what we can see, and entrust ourselves to the One who sees what we cannot.
Anchored in the love and care of the One who sees what we cannot see, we therefore no longer walk in darkness, as our text from Ephesians 5 reminds us. We are light in the Lord (Eph 5.8)--but not because of something that is intrinsic to ourselves, rather because as we trust God by obeying what he has shown us, the One who sees all. And when we walk in this way, when we see through what God sees, we bear fruit.
So seeing real reality, seeing the world as God sees it requires us to acknowledge our blindness, as John 9.1-41 reminds us. We are blind. And this may be one of the most helpful things that comes out of the pandemic: a humble reminder that we are not what we have been trained to think about ourselves. We do not see as clearly as we thought. Even with all of our technological capabilities, we need God to see clearly. As Jesus says, those who have the most to lose in this world are those who say "We see" apart from what Jesus comes to reveal (John 9.41).
And when God looks, when He sees, He does not look as humankind does, at outward appearances; instead He looks on the heart (1 Sam 16.7). In the context of 1 Samuel 16, this means that when God solves problems, when He delivers on His promises (to, for example, appoint a king who will redeem Israel), he is not bound to the ways the world esteems power and effectiveness. He uses the weak and foolish things of this world to manifest His power and greatness. He delivers in unexpected, unpredictable ways--ways that we cannot see, ways that we cannot control.
As we navigate the stormy seas of this pandemic over the next few weeks (perhaps months), let's remember that we are light in the Lord. We can see in these uncertain times--not by our own light, but because we walk by entrusting ourselves to the Good Shepherd, the One who see, who promises to guide, protect, and provide for us. His goodness and mercy will indeed pursue us, chase us down. As Paul asks (in a great to lesser argument):
In Jesus Christ, God has met our greatest need. He has shown himself to provide and protect in a way that we never anticipated, that we could never have foresaw. How will he not also graciously provide and protect us in these times?
In the spirit of Lent, and in the presence of God I have asked--What am I learning about myself in these times? And, What are You, God, teaching me in these circumstances?
One of the more unsettling themes that has come up over and over again in the past few weeks is my inability, our inability, to see.
Our modern self has been conditioned, trained and educated, to think that we have more control over things than we actually do--that we can see things more clearly than we actually can. And yet on occasions like this, real reality breaks into our lives to remind us otherwise.
We can't see the Coronavirus. That is to say that we don't know exactly where it is, or where it is spreading. We can only know, see, after the fact.
And we didn't see this pandemic coming.
And we can't see the impact that this will have on our economy--our own personal economy, but also the impact this will have economically in our country, and the entire world. This lack of vision, this uncertainty, this inability to see is what generates so much of the anxiety that we are feeling right now. If only we could see, and know, and prepare ourselves, protect ourselves, save ourselves from all that may come.
The closures of schools and workplaces have led to immediate financial hardship all over our community--and the fact that we are unable to see when this will end and what kind of damage it will do to our lives is partly what contributes to our angst and insecurity. We want to do something; to take some action that will make a difference. But we can't see.
For some of our students, internships and jobs offers have been rescinded. What will this mean for their futures? For many others, a variety of opportunities have been put on hold. Will those opportunities come again, or have they been taken away forever? We can't see; we don't know.
Our Scripture lessons this morning are held together, in part, with the theme of seeing. For example, our lesson from Psalm 23 reminds us that in the midst of our valley of darkness, that is to say, in the midst of our "unseeing", our Good Shepherd sees. He sees for us. Because He sees, He guides, leads, provides, protects, and is present with us in our valleys of the shadow of death, in the midst of our enemies (even viruses) that seek to destroy us. In this psalm of confidence (a psalm meant to generate confidence in God's care for our lives), we are reminded that God's goodness and mercy pursue us (the Hebrew word translated as "follow" [23.6], is better translated "pursue") all our days. For this reason, because the God we entrust our lives to, the LORD, the Good Shepherd, sees, we shall not want (which is to say, we shall not lack what we need). Psalm 23 reminds us that in the midst of our uncertain futures, in the midst of all that we cannot see, God is watching out for us. He sees. He knows. He is accomplishing His will in our lives--He leads us in the right paths for His name's sake. And that is sufficient. We can rest in knowing that He sees for us.
We are reminded that our hope has never been that we can see (or control our world), that we can know what will happen; rather, our hope is that we have been invited entrust ourselves to One who not only sees, but who sees with our good in mind; the One who sees and who will place us into circumstances in which His character, His goodness will be displayed. In a counter-intuitive fashion, we are told that we are wise to give up our sight, to relinquish trust in our own eyes, in what we can see, and entrust ourselves to the One who sees what we cannot.
Anchored in the love and care of the One who sees what we cannot see, we therefore no longer walk in darkness, as our text from Ephesians 5 reminds us. We are light in the Lord (Eph 5.8)--but not because of something that is intrinsic to ourselves, rather because as we trust God by obeying what he has shown us, the One who sees all. And when we walk in this way, when we see through what God sees, we bear fruit.
So seeing real reality, seeing the world as God sees it requires us to acknowledge our blindness, as John 9.1-41 reminds us. We are blind. And this may be one of the most helpful things that comes out of the pandemic: a humble reminder that we are not what we have been trained to think about ourselves. We do not see as clearly as we thought. Even with all of our technological capabilities, we need God to see clearly. As Jesus says, those who have the most to lose in this world are those who say "We see" apart from what Jesus comes to reveal (John 9.41).
And when God looks, when He sees, He does not look as humankind does, at outward appearances; instead He looks on the heart (1 Sam 16.7). In the context of 1 Samuel 16, this means that when God solves problems, when He delivers on His promises (to, for example, appoint a king who will redeem Israel), he is not bound to the ways the world esteems power and effectiveness. He uses the weak and foolish things of this world to manifest His power and greatness. He delivers in unexpected, unpredictable ways--ways that we cannot see, ways that we cannot control.
As we navigate the stormy seas of this pandemic over the next few weeks (perhaps months), let's remember that we are light in the Lord. We can see in these uncertain times--not by our own light, but because we walk by entrusting ourselves to the Good Shepherd, the One who see, who promises to guide, protect, and provide for us. His goodness and mercy will indeed pursue us, chase us down. As Paul asks (in a great to lesser argument):
He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all (greater argument), how will he not also with him graciously give us all things (lesser argument)?
Romans 8.32
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