"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.

Easter Expectation

We would like to be those two angels sitting in the tomb, safe with our insider information. Smiling at those outside, “Why are you crying?” without sharing what we know, namely that Jesus is alive again.

We would like to be those two disciples, running as fast as possible to the tomb, peeking quickly inside, and then running as fast as possible back home again without even glancing back, to lock the door and take care of ourselves.

The truth is we are more often Mary Magdalene, unsure of what exactly is going on, confused, hurting, tears filling our eyes, with no idea what will happen next.

And yet alert, aware, and strong enough to stay anyway. The thing is, Mary stays. She sticks with it. She stands firm. It’s obvious she expects something, although exactly what she isn’t certain. But of course, there’s a difference between “expectation” and “certainty.”

Expectation means you know that this present moment is not all there is. Expectation is understanding that there is more, even if you aren’t certain what that “more” actually looks like.

Expectation is what compelled Mary Magdalene to stay, in spite of her pain, her grief. And through her tears, in the darkness, she saw … someone. Someone who called her by name.

“Mary.”

And there it was. “Oh. You know me! And yes, I know you. Oh, it’s you.” And just like that, expectation was fulfilled, as she saw Jesus, living and breathing and walking and talking. Jesus.

Easter is all about expectation. And that doesn’t mean that we know exactly what will happen next; it just means we know Jesus. And more importantly, that we are known by him.

And now we carry that expectancy into every moment of every day, and it gives us hope. Life is uncertain, the world is a violent place, there will be struggle, grief, obstacles to overcome. None of that goes away just because it’s Easter.

What has changed is that our lives have been infused with expectation, and we know that our present reality isn’t the end of the story. Easter assures us that, no matter how bad things are, expectation will be fulfilled. If we stick with it like Mary did, we will see Jesus.

Hope - "Here Comes the Sun"

This coming Sunday, I'll be preaching about hope. And that always makes me think of a trip to Guatemala I took during seminary as a part of a "Ministry Immersion" class.

There’s a workshop in the middle of one of the poorest neighborhood in Guatemala City. This workshop employs the women of the neighborhood, who sew traditional Guatemalan items that are sold mostly to tourists. Employment at this workshop is the last line of defense keeping most of the women (and their families) from hunger and homelessness.

The workshop is called “UPAVIM,” an acronym for “Unidas para vivir mejor” - “United to Live Better.” You can see more about their work here - http://www.upavim.org/

The reason I’m mentioning UPAVIM today, though is to point out the name of the neighborhood in which they work.

The neighborhood is called “La Esperanza” - “Hope.”

It seems an ironic choice for a name; on the surface there really doesn’t seem to be much hope in the community. Poverty is the rule. Children pick through the garbage dump for food or maybe the odd trinket they might be able to sell for a bit of change. Gang violence is common. Alcoholism and drug addiction are everywhere.

And yet, it is “La Esperanza.” It is “Hope.”

In chapter 8 of Romans it says that “hope that is seen is not hope.” I wonder what that means exactly? I wonder if it means that true hope lies under the surface? I wonder if that means that there’s a difference between “hope” and “optimism,” like optimism is that “on the surface” feeling that things are going well whereas hope is that “under the surface” assurance that things are going to be all right in spite of what’s happening “on the surface?"

Hope - when everything is not okay, God gives us hope. God says, “Here comes the sun, and I say - It’s all right!”

Hope, Seen and Heard

The season of Advent has begun, and I couldn’t be any more excited! This is the fortieth Advent of my life, and yet I am discovering new things this year, just like every year. Such is the mystery of this season; God reveals new understandings and insights, no matter how many previous Advents you have experienced.

On my fortieth Advent, I am learning more about the effects of God’s presence on my attitude. Or maybe I should say, I am learning that when I am able to recognize God’s presence around me, it really affects my outlook, demeanor, and state of mind. I find myself smiling more for no apparent reason. I hear a Christmas song that in previous years I may have thought to be a cheesy ball of schlock, and I actually begin to tear up a little bit. You know, stuff like that.

And so I ask, is it because it is Advent and God is at work on me in some deep and powerful way, or is it because I am forty and getting sentimental in my middle age?

Who knows? As the prophet Isaiah says, “He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear.” Because let me tell you, if we did that we’d be in pretty big trouble, wouldn’t we? Our eyes see some pretty discouraging things; our ears hear some ugly stuff. If that were the limit of our perception, there would be no hope whatsoever.

But God has given us other senses with which to perceive the Divine Presence, spiritual senses that are tuned in to God at levels both underneath and above our consciousness. And that gives me hope.

Too often we limit our perception to what our eyes see or what our ears hear. Actually, we frequently limit it more than that. A lot of the time, we limit our perception to what someone else tells us it is. I mean, it IS easier that way, after all. A lot less thinking for myself.

But the perception of the one described in Isaiah 11 is informed by something deeper than mere physical senses - namely, God's righteousness (Heb. tsedeq). Perception shaped by God's righteousness leads to a special consideration for the poor and the meek, and a radical transformation of the world such that predator and prey dwell together in peace. Simply put, you just don't see things the same way anymore.

This Advent, may we all see and hear with the spiritual senses that God awakens within us. May righteousness be our filter as we wait for the coming of Emmanuel.