May the words of
my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O
God, for you are our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
For
my Lent sermons this year, I’m leaning into a package that was put together by
Kate Bowler, a Canadian academic and writer from Winnipeg. She has written
several wonderful books and I recommend you go search them out.
This
week the focus is the lament and from Bowler’s package I pulled this quote from
NT Wright:
“When we practice
lament, we acknowledge the fact that things are not as they should be, and we
start to see what God hopes for in us. Part of lament requires truth-telling to
each other and to God.”
To
lament is to complain. It is a way for us to declare that the world is not as
it should be. It is said that no one likes a complainer, but we shouldn’t avoid
lamenting. Complaining to God allows us to locate ourselves in a situation and
figure out where God should be. Our complaints might help us figure out the
next right step or just help us get all our emotions out. Either way, God can
handle our complaints. God will listen. Lament invites us into a place of
truth-telling, love, and belonging.
Taking
comfort in knowing that even Jesus, and all the prophets before him, laments,
here is my lament for you:
As
the world burned, panic set in.
We
fought each other and our worst was revealed.
Where
were you when the fires raged,
When
the insults flew,
And
when the bullets were fired?
We
called your name,
Pleading
for help.
Why
didn’t you answer?
Hopelessness
overwhelmed.
As
people got sick,
As
people died,
As
people fought,
It
was as if we had been thrown into the deep end
Without
being taught to swim.
And
yet there was light.
The
earth breathed clean air for the first time in decades.
There
were people outside instead of in front of screens.
We
learned lessons of gratitude.
Was
this your answer to our call?
But
the virus raged on.
People
got bored, or felt boxed in.
Chants
of loss rung in the air,
But
they were cries about loss of freedom,
Rather
than loss of human life.
And
the worst of us was revealed again.
Have
you forgotten us?
Thrown
your hands up in despair and disgust?
Or
do you cry tears of pain as we claw our way through the long months and years?
The
end is near but what that end will be is unknown.
Do
not leave us, O God,
As
it is in these uncertain times where we need you the most.
We
lay our burdens at your feet.
We
place our worries in your hands.
We
give our heart to your heart.
Our
soul to your soul.
Do
not leave us, O God.
It’s
been five years
Since
the world first shut down,
Since
the world burned, since the panic set in.
The
virus came and the virus went,
But
the illness remains.
The
illness of fear, anger, and pain.
We
placed our burdens at your feet
And,
as promised, you did not leave us.
But
are you still there, God?
We
need you again.
We
now fight something new,
Something
bigger,
Something
scarier.
There
is no vaccine for this illness,
The
illness of fear, anger, and pain.
The
new virus is not microscopic
And
won’t be swayed by a needle.
It’s
the human ego that comes at us now
Through
hate and diatribe.
It
feels humongous and unstoppable
We
are overwhelmed.
Where
are you, O God?
Are
you still there?
Those
cast out need brought up.
Those
beaten down need to be risen.
The
outliers are struggling
With
fear, anger, and pain.
Is
there room for faith?
Is
there room for hope?
Even
the earliest disciples were scared,
They
were doubtful and tearful.
But
they knew they had Jesus.
They
knew they had God.
We
know this too,
But
sometimes we forget.
How
could we not,
When
it feels we have been left.
But
God did not leave us,
Nor
will God ever.
And
for this may we be comforted,
From
now until forever.
May
you sit in this time of lament comforted by the presence of God as a hen
gathers her brood under her wings for God will be with us as we cry out “Blessed
is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”
Amen.
A very moving piece Theo! Thanks
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