"Sarah Shall Be Her Name"

"...Sarah shall be her name. I will bless her and also give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.” (Genesis 17:15b-16)

The second Sunday in Lent is an opportunity for transformation. It is an opportunity to rise, a new creation, a phoenix from the ashes.  "Sarah shall be her name." It is a renaming, a simple change to a single word, yet that word is so intimately connected to our identity, to our very being. When someone calls your name, they are calling you. 

And for Sarai, it came after nine decades of life. Life with her husband couldn't have been particularly easy. She had to move from her home and wander around for much of her life. The Bible says she was beautiful. In Egypt, her husband asked her to pretend to be his sister in order to save his own life and Pharaoh took her as his own wife. (This story is not included in Vacation Bible School curricula for some reason.)

And we know that she was unable to have children. One time she devised a plan to ensure that her husband would have descendants; she had him marry Hagar, an enslaved Egyptian woman. It was a whole thing. Suffice it to say it did not end well.

Is it any wonder that after ninety years of such a life, the opportunity for transformation would elicit a chuckle?

And yet, there it is. It is literally never too late. The grace of God is always, always, always at work. Maybe you feel a sense that you are settled, established, maybe you feel like your life is a familiar routine that really isn't all that great but it's what you know so you're stuck with it. Maybe you know someone who feels this way. (Tip: You probably do.)

Maybe you've even come to a point in life where you're not sure who you are any more. You used to know, but little by little you have faded into someone else. It didn't happen all at once but these days when you look at yourself in the mirror there's someone new looking back at you. Someone you barely recognize. Or, maybe you know someone who feels this way. (Tip: You probably do.)

Maya Angelou said, “We may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. That in fact it may be necessary to encounter defeat, so we can know who the hell we are. What can we overcome? What makes us stumble and fall, and somehow miraculously rise and go on?”

"It may be necessary to encounter defeat, so we can know who the hell we are."

Scripture says that "if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being!" The Holy Spirit renews and restores so completely that the process is described as a second birth. And the possibility of being born again is an ever-present gift, there for us, waiting our response.

This Second Sunday in Lent is an opportunity for transformation. The grace of God is an opportunity to hear your name called, as if for the very first time. The grace of God is always working, always calling, always moving. This day is chance to know who you are, to miraculously rise and go on.

"I Have Set My Bow in the Clouds"

 In order to see the rainbow you have to be facing the storm.

8 Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, 9 “As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you 10 and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. 11 I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” 12 God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: 13 I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. 14 When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, 15 I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh, and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. 16 When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” 17 God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.”

(Genesis 9:1-17)

The First Sunday of Lent this year comes with a splash of color. “I have set my bow in the clouds.” It is the rainbow, that miracle of physics that happens when light is scattered by water droplets, diversifying according to wavelength, literally bouncing the white light off of the back of each little droplet and sending it back our direction transformed.

For Noah, it is offered as a sign of divine regret. God seems to lament the destruction wrought, and promises it will never happen again. The bow in the clouds is there to remind God (who needs reminding, apparently) of the sacred covenant between all living things and their Creator. 

It’s fitting that, in order to see a rainbow, you have to be facing the storm. Technically speaking, the light source has to be behind you, and the water droplets in front of you. Light shines into the rain, and the rain receives it. Then, thousands … millions of individual droplets take that light and change it, reflect it, and offer it back to us.

As we stand, facing the storm ahead, we know that there is light behind us because we can see that bow in the clouds. The hope, the promise, the assurance of the Spirit - it all comes when we face the storm. 

You may be facing a storm right now. If so, face it! And look for the rainbow. 

You may know someone who is facing a storm right now. If so, shine your light into their storm with words of encouragement and gestures of love and support. Create a rainbow for them.

It is an apt metaphor, because at one time or another each and every one of us has experienced a storm of one kind or another. Charles Tindley’s well known him, “Stand By Me,” names it so powerfully.

When the storms of life are raging, stand by me.

When the world is tossing me like a ship upon the sea,

Thou who rulest wind and water, stand by me.

This year Lent begins with a splash of color, God’s promise in the midst of the storm. A promise that God is there with and for us, cares for us, and will be with us through it all. 

In order to see the rainbow you have to be facing the storm.

Yet Even Now - Ash Wednesday 2024

“Yet even now, says the Lord,

return to me with all your heart,

with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;

     rend your hearts and not your clothing.

Return to the Lord your God,

    for he is gracious and merciful,

slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love,

    and relenting from punishment.”

                        (Joel 2:12-13)

Those three words, “Yet even now…”

Joel has just spent eleven verses describing in poetic elegance the “darkness and gloom” of God’s arrival. The day of the Lord is akin to the invasion of a “great and powerful army” whose destructive power is experienced like a wildfire that utterly devastates everything in its path. The passage ends with a haunting question: “Truly the day of the Lord is great, terrible indeed - who can endure it?”

And then … “Yet even now…”

As bad as it gets, God is still there, calling, soothing, comforting. There is a theological puzzle here, though. The same God whose day is “terrible indeed” is here offering grace and mercy. How is this not a divine description of the cycle of abuse?

It is really important to remember that the Bible is inspired by God, not dictated by God. God inspired Joel’s prophecy, and Joel wrote it from his own unique perspective, framed in his own particular view of the world. Joel’s words reflect his experience of and relationship with God.

You and I read a passage like this knowing some things about God. That God is good, and loving, and just. That God offers grace in abundance and life everlasting. When confronted with seemingly contradictory images of God’s identity, what are we to do? Maybe throw one of them out, based on our own comfort level? Maybe leap to the conclusion that the whole thing is fraudulent and throw it all away?

Or maybe hold them in tension, wrestling with the feeling of dissonance that the prophet so deftly illuminates. For me, this is the best approach. And it all hangs on those three remarkable words: “Yet even now.”

This Season of Lent begins in a broken and hurting world. War ravages innocent people with relentless brutality. Political figures demean and insult their opponents. Violence seems to be the rule rather than the exception. The climate continues its inexorable slide toward disaster. And on and on. No wonder so many people are anxious, angry, and flat-out exhausted.

In the midst of all that, the prophet offers this hopeful word. “Yet even now, return to God. Yet even now, center on the divine within, among, and around us. Yet even now, even when anxiety cripples you and anger rages red and exhaustion drains every bit of energy from your body … yet even now, God is there. Gracious. Merciful. Slow to anger. And abounding in steadfast love.

Yet even now.