It’s Tempting (Lent 2)

Deuteronomy 26: 1-11 & Luke 4: 1-13

Roger Lynn

February 25, 2018

2nd Sunday in Lent

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

(the video for the entire worship service is unavailable this week)

We now find ourselves in the season of the Church year known as Lent. It is a different kind of time. The striking purple color of this season reminds us that something dramatic is being considered. It is a time for reflection and growth as we journey towards the center of life. The path of this journey is not always easy. There are dark shadows and painful realities along the way. But the lesson of this season is that we are never alone on this journey and whatever darkness we encounter as we travel is never the final word. We go towards God. We go with God. We are surrounded by God in every moment. This is a season for us to seek again the path which opens us to God and leads us to life. An image from St. Catherine of Siena puts it this way: “All the way to heaven is heaven.” Lent is not a journey through hell that eventually leads us to heaven. Lent is an exercise in remembering that heaven is being fully in the presence of God, and therefore heaven begins right here, right now, and we connect with that reality when we orient our lives towards the center. 

Unfortunately, a part of the human condition is the temptation to believe that we are the center and we don’t need anyone or anything else in order to experience the fullness of life. The problem, of course, is that we don’t have the capacity to sustain such a belief. It’s not that we are bad, or wicked, or evil. It’s not that we are worthless or helpless or stupid. It’s simply that we are finite. At some point our human limitations will catch up with us and we will be disappointed. But somehow we keep falling into that trap anyway. It’s so easy. We know about us. We can see us and touch us and feel us. We know we’re here. At the same time God is a bit more difficult to get a grip on. God is not so easy to see and touch and feel. It is easier to lose track of God’s presence. So of course we think the world centers around us. Of course life is about what we want. Of course it’s all about what we can and cannot do. That’s what makes it tempting – it’s attractive and it makes a certain kind of sense. The only problem is, it just doesn’t work. At least not over the long run. Eventually we find ourselves faced with the reality that we can’t know enough or do enough to continue giving life all the meaning and purpose and direction we need and desire. Eventually we have to admit that we need something more than we have the capacity to provide.

Light For Our Darkness (Lent 1)

a narrative story inspired by John 9: 1-41

Ephesians 5: 8-14 & John 9: 1-12

Roger Lynn

February 18, 2018

First Sunday in Lent

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

(click here for the video for the whole worship service - the sermon begins at 21:58)

It’s really quite amazing how much in our lives we can begin to take for granted. Even miracles can fade into the background of our memory if we’re not careful to remember. It is rather embarrassing to admit, but I hadn’t really thought much about my “miracle” for a long time. It had, after all, been 25 years since my life had forever been changed. My life had moved on and my thoughts became occupied with other things. But it all came flooding back the day I heard the words in the letter from the Apostle Paul. 

Stepping Into The Mystery (Transfiguration)

Exodus 24: 12-18 & Matthew 17: 1-9

Roger C. Lynn

February 11, 2018

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

(click here for the video for the entire worship service - the sermon starts at about 24:00)

It was almost exactly twenty years ago. I was spending a week at Holden Village above Lake Chelan on a personal spiritual retreat. One afternoon while cross-country skiing I came to the edge of an open field, with the river beyond and the mountains forming a backdrop for the whole scene. The air was full of snow. And suddenly I was “in” the moment. I wasn’t looking at it from the outside. I was a part of it. Everything became more intensely and vividly real. Language has always eluded me when I’ve tried to describe this experience. The best I’ve been able to come up with is to say that God was present – fully and intimately present. 

How is such an experience explained and understood? What happened? Was it real? That depends partly, I suppose, on how you define “real.” If someone had been filming the scene five minutes before I arrived and continued filming during my experience, I suspect you would not see any difference, except perhaps on my face. Indeed, if someone else had been with me, it is entirely possible that they would not have noticed what I noticed. It was an intensely personal, and very subjective, experience. And it was very real. In fact, I believe what I caught a glimpse of, there in that mountain meadow, was the reality which is all around us all of the time. What occasionally changes is our level of awareness and perception.