You Will Live Again

You Will Live Again

Ezekiel 37:1-14[1]

  At some point in life, many of us lose hope. We find that, whether due to our choices, or due to circumstances beyond our control, the ground has given way beneath our feet, and we have been swept away to a place where we feel completely and hopelessly lost. That experience of being lost is part of life. I think it can feel so hopeless because when you feel lost, really lost in life, it can seem like you will never find your way again. It’s hard to hope when fear and sadness, loneliness and uncertainty are your constant companions. You wonder whether you’ll ever find joy and peace again.

  It would seem that the people of Israel felt that way during their time of exile in Babylon. They were a whole world away from everything that was “home” to them. After spending not only years but decades in a place that was very foreign to them, it makes sense that they felt lost and hopeless. That was the whole reason for Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones. As the Lord speaks to the prophet, he says that the vision of new life was intended to address the fact that “the whole house of Israel” was saying “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely” (Ezek. 37:11). 

  Into this despair, the message that the Lord had for Israel is that nothing and no one is ever beyond hope! Think about the lesson for today: what could be more hopeless than dried-out bones. How can bones come back to life again? What possibility would any of us see for God to bring new life? And yet, before Ezekiel’s eyes, God gives new life to those lifeless bones. And the message that God has for the people is that “I will open your graves of exile” (Ezek. 37:12, NLT) and “you will live again” (37:14). It was a dramatic demonstration that nothing and no one is beyond the hope of new life—not even those who have felt lost so long they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be home. 

  It may be dawning on some of us that we’re in a situation similar to the people of Israel. Extended isolation can push our ability to hold onto hope past its limits. We don’t know how long this form of “exile” will go on. It may go on so long that we begin to feel lost; lost to ourselves, lost to life, lost even to God. But one of my favorite themes of Scripture is that those who feel lost are never lost to God. In story after story, somehow, God always finds a way to give them life again. I believe that still holds true today. No matter how hard it may get, the promise of scripture is that no one is ever beyond hope. No one is ever lost to God. Even though we may feel lost, we can trust that we are not lost to God. No matter what our circumstances, we can hold on to the hope that in his time, and in his way, God will bring new life to us all. We can hold onto God’s promise that we will live again.

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/29/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Not Afraid

Not Afraid

Psalm 23[1]

A world-wide pandemic. One of the steepest downturns in the stock market. Hoarding of basic supplies. Schools closing and going to remote instruction. Restaurants going to take-out only service. Restrictions of the number of people gathering together. These are just some of the startling developments that have happened in less than a month, many of them in the last week! It would be impossible not to feel the stress, the loss, and even the fear of the moment in history in which we find ourselves. So what crazy person came up with a sermon entitled “Not Afraid?”

And yet, I think there are good reasons not to be afraid. The most important of them is our faith that no matter what happens, God is with us, supporting us with his love and mercy and grace. I think that’s the lesson of our Scripture reading from Psalm 23. It presents us with the image of God as “my” shepherd. In that role, God is the one who leads us all individually beside still waters and makes us lie down in green pastures. God is the one who directs our paths in the right way, simply because it pleases him to do so. God is the one who protects us with his “rod and staff” even in the most frightening situations. God is the one who prepares a lavish banquet and makes us the guests of honor.

All of these images reinforce the declaration that “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” The images come together to bring calm and peace to us as we imagine what it might be like to lie down in green pastures, and to rest beside still waters. Or as we imagine his constant presence protecting us even in the darkest of valleys. Or the joy and refreshment of sitting down to a meal of all our favorite “comfort foods,” prepared just for us.

One of the important details of the Psalm is that the assurance it promises is based not just on personal experience, but on what God has done in the lives of his people in the past. This is especially true for the people of Israel. From the Exodus out of Egypt to the Wilderness wanderings to settling the land “flowing with milk and honey,” God continually protected and provided for his people. And so they could say, “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”^[2]

More than that, I believe God takes great pleasure in caring for us in this way.^[3] Some providers and protectors do so out of obligation or duty. God does so out of grace, out of love, out of his determination to be “God-who-is-with-us” and “God-who-is-for-us.” Of course, we see this grace and mercy of God most clearly in Jesus, who declared himself to be our “Good Shepherd.”

All of these images in the Psalm reinforce the promise that God is with us always, in whatever situation we may find ourselves. The God who watches over us is the one who constantly cares for and nurtures all creation—galaxies and nebulae we have never even seen; the sun, moon, and stars; plants, animals, rocks and trees; and people of every size, shape, and color. If God delights in caring for all of that, I think we can trust that God delights in caring for us. And so we can be “not afraid,” because “the Lord is my shepherd.”

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/22/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. James L. Mays, Psalms, 117-19.

[3] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, 2.1:74-75.

Stubborn

Stubborn

Psalm 95[1]

  As some of you know all too well, I can be stubborn at times. I’d like to say it’s a side effect of having a Ph. D., but if I’m honest, I’d have to admit that my stubborn streak goes way back. All the way back! When I was in High School, I got the “foot-in-the-mouth” award, because I used to argue with the Math teacher when I couldn’t see the logic of an equation. But my stubbornness goes back even farther than that! I guess the one comfort I can take in my hard-headed condition is that I think I’m not alone in that predicament. Most of us at some time or another are convinced that we know what’s best, and when we do, we can be pretty stubborn about changing our minds.

  One of the essential disciplines in the Christian faith is repentance. In order to repent, we have to be willing to let go our stubborn insistence that we are right, or that we are “in the right.” We have to be willing to admit that we have been wrong, that we have been “in the wrong,” and that we have done wrong. This kind of repentance is at the heart of observing the season of Lent. It is a time for us to examine our lives with our eyes wide open so that we can see where we have strayed in our faith journey. The purpose of repentance is not just to “feel sorry” for what we have done, but rather to make up our minds that we are going to change. That takes humility, rather than stubbornness.

  One of the themes that gets repeated over and over in the story of Israel’s people is that they were stubborn. The prophets continually rebuked them for being “stiff-necked” in their willful disobedience to God and in continually going their own way. The prophets repeatedly called the people to humble themselves and return to God. It seems to me that in order to do that, you have to repent, let go your stubborn insistence on going your own way, admit that you’re going the wrong way, and open your heart to what God is trying to do in your life.

  The Psalmist was reflecting on this aspect of Israel’s experience in our lesson for today. He was particularly talking about the wilderness wanderings, when the people complained seemingly non-stop about Moses and about God. They didn’t like being in the wilderness, and they made that clear every chance they got! They weren’t happy with the way things were going in their lives, and they rarely missed a chance to blame God, or Moses, or both.  Unfortunately, it would seem that it never even occurred to them that the root of their bitterness was within themselves, not in someone else. They simply quarreled with Moses and “tested” God (Exod. 17:2, 3). The question at the center of their quarrel was significant: “Is the Lord among us or not?" (Exod. 17:7).  

  I would offer the suggestion that they were not the first, and certainly not the last, to “test” God.  The Psalmist defines it as demanding that God prove himself to be trustworthy (Ps. 95:9). Ironically, there are numerous stories where individuals asked God for a sign or for an answer using various “tests.” But it would seem that there’s a difference between trying to discern our direction and demanding that God give us assurances that we will get out of life whatever it is that we want. One of the problems with that approach to faith is that you can never get enough proof. You always need one more test to be sure you can “really” trust God.

  The Psalmist says that the people wandering in the wilderness responded to God in this way because they were stubborn. He says that they had “hardened” their hearts (Ps. 95:8). They had closed themselves off in such a way that faith was essentially impossible. And so the Psalmist, speaking to later generations, warns them (and us) to avoid this kind of stubbornness. How then do we follow this warning? Well, it seems to me that we start where the Psalmist does. He calls to all those who would hear, saying “O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker!  For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand” (Ps. 95:6-7). The place where we begin to open our hearts so that we may “listen to his voice” (Ps. 95:7) is where we humble ourselves enough to kneel before our Maker.  

  That kind of humility doesn’t come easily for those of us who have been schooled in a world where competition is the name of the game. And yet, over and over, the Scriptures call us to soften our stubborn hearts so that we can open them to the life-giving presence of God. And over and over, the way the Scriptures instruct us to begin is by humbling ourselves. We have to humble ourselves to recognize that we were “weak” and “ungodly” when Christ died for us (Rom. 5:6). It took humility for St. Paul to bow before Jesus and call the one he had opposed “Lord”! And it takes humility for us to open our hearts to God.

  Humility is difficult for most of us. But it truly is the first step toward repenting of stubbornness. When we can let down some of our defenses, and soften our hearts, then maybe we can open ourselves enough to listen, really listen to God’s voice. That’s what it takes for us to experience the change Jesus called being “born anew.” That’s what it takes for us to experience the new life of the Spirit that God wants to give us. The call to faith is a call to humility, a call to soften our hearts and open them up enough to receive the grace and the love that God wants to pour into us in such quantity that it becomes like “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (Jn. 4:14).

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/15/2020 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Good For the Soul?

Good for the Soul?

Psalm 32[1]

I’m not sure, but it’s my impression that we have a comical relationship with privacy. We may take great offense if someone knows “too much” about our personal lives. But at the same time, we may publish details on social media that nobody really wants to know. I don’t think this started with the internet, though. Gossip has always been a feature of any community of people. Whether it’s on the computer, or over the phone, or sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch drinking coffee, we seem to take keen interest in talking about the private lives of others. But at the same time we take offense when others talk about us. I find a great deal of irony in that.

I also find a great deal of irony in the fact that we come to worship, week after week, and we “confess” our sins together. Out loud. In public. So other people can hear us. Of course, we’re all saying the same thing together, so that takes some of the sting out of it. And when something is printed in the bulletin, it’s easy to just “read” it rather than actually “praying.” I find that ironical because I would say that most of us are uncomfortable actually admitting that we have sinned, and even more so that we are sinners. But from the biblical perspective, both are fundamentally true: we have sinned—that relates to our actions. And we are sinners—that relates to who we are. By contrast, we tend to think of ourselves as good people who try to be kind to others. Confessing that we are sinners may be offensive to our self-image, given our efforts at living the Christian life. We may endorse the adage that “confession is good for the soul,” but I’m not sure we really believe it enough to practice it!

And yet, in our lesson for today the Psalmist insists that admitting our sin is something important to an ongoing relationship of faith in God. In fact, he warns that when we refuse to acknowledge our sin, it tends to fester inside us and comes out in all kinds of ways that aren’t so pleasant. Pride, anger, bitterness, and perhaps even behaviors that relate to more “psychological” issues all may come from repressed guilt. From the Psalmist’s perspective, refusing to admit his sin made him feel like God’s hand was “heavy” upon him (Ps. 32:4). I think we can all relate to the sense of dread when we know we’ve messed up, and there are going to be consequences.  That’s one more clue that we all need the “blessing” we receive when we confess our sin (Ps. 32:1-2).

And that is precisely what the Psalmist promises in response to the heartfelt, genuine confession that “I have sinned, and I am a sinner”: relief from the burden and release from the sense of guilt. That’s why confessing our sin is such an important part of learning to trust in God. As long as we hold back, as long as we refuse to admit who we really are and what we’ve done, there must be some doubt in our minds about whether God really accepts us. But when we stop fooling ourselves and let go the burden, we find God’s love embracing us, God’s grace abounding, God’s mercy healing us. When we make ourselves vulnerable by approaching God with the confession, “I am a sinner,” and experience not condemnation or rejection but acceptance and love and forgiveness, we walk away from that experience with a stronger sense of trust in the one who loves us. As it turns out, confession truly is “good for the soul.”

Unfortunately, for most of us, “confession” is only something we do at the beginning of a worship service. And even then, because we do it every Sunday, in the same way, and at the same time, it can begin to feel like something routine. But for confession to be genuine, it has to be more than a routine. It has to be something that is heartfelt. It cannot be relegated to a few words we mumble on Sunday morning. Confessing our sin is an important component in an ongoing relationship of faith in God. When we come to God on a regular basis, perhaps even daily, and sincerely confess that we have fallen short, we have failed, we have sinned, we find that practice strengthening our faith. When we admit to ourselves and to God that we have sinned, we receive the “blessing” of forgiveness, acceptance, and love.

Sometimes, however, we need to take it a step further. It’s one thing to confess our sin to God. It’s another thing altogether to confess our sin to another person. The Bible actually teaches us to do both. Now, of course, we have to be wise and thoughtful about this. I’m not talking about airing all your dirty laundry on the internet for the whole world to see. I’m talking about sharing a burden with a trusted friend. Something incredibly healing takes place when we share our deepest secret with a trusted friend, and instead of the criticism or rejection we may have expected, we find understanding, acceptance, and love. Confession is indeed “good for the soul.”

If we need to be convinced of the importance of confessing our sin, all we have to do is remember that it is God’s love that exposes our sin. There is something about sin so damaging to us that God felt it necessary to die for us in order to set us free. If our sin is that serious to God, maybe we should take it more seriously. I’m not going to say that any of this is easy. The very words, “I am a sinner” get caught in our throats. Yet, confessing our sin is a necessary step for us to experience the unconditional love and acceptance God offers us all. And when we take the risk, when we make ourselves vulnerable, then we know the release and joy of the new life that God offers all of us as a free gift. Then we find that confession really is “good for the soul.”

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 3/1/2020 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.