Genesis 12: 1-4 & John 3: 1-10
Roger Lynn
March 24, 2019
3rd Sunday in Lent
Listening to God can be a risky thing. And following where God leads can be downright dangerous. That’s not exactly the slogan you would want to put on a recruiting poster for the Christian faith. But it is the truth, nonetheless. I suppose a more positive spin might be to say, “Faith – the adventure of a lifetime.” But in either case, it is important for us to recognize that faithful living involves risk. When we genuinely seek to discover God’s direction for our lives we may very well find ourselves in places we would not choose to go on our own. Abram and Sarai leave home and family and security to set out on a journey they do not even fully comprehend. They do so because they understand God to be leading them. Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night because he knows it is risky to even be seen talking with this teacher who is offering a radical new way of understanding God and our relationship with God.
The problem with such an understanding of faith, however, is that it starts in the middle. I presented it to you in this way because this is very often how we try to approach it. We try to muster up enough courage and inner-strength to push past the scary parts. Unfortunately, such an approach has some serious limitations – namely the fact that our supply of courage and inner-strength almost always runs out at some point. Ironically, the part of faithful living that we often forget about is that we are not in it alone. The God who calls us to embark on the journey is also the God who promises to be with us along the way. Taking the risk of faith is only possible when it is preceded by the trust of faith. Abram did not turn his whole life upside down just because he perceived that God was calling him. Before he stepped out his front door he also had to trust that God would be faithful in guiding him and protecting him on the journey. He knew there would not, and indeed could not, be any guarantees. And there would be lots of moments when he would fall back into fear and mistrust. But there at the beginning, before he took the risk of even that first step, Abram was able to look beyond himself and take the risk of trusting that God would be faithful.
Such trust is what stands behind the Psalm which we used as our Call To Worship this morning. Psalm 121 was originally used by pilgrims on their way to Jerusalem. Travel in those days was filled with risks. They used this psalm to remind themselves that they did not travel alone. God could be counted on to be with them and protect them. “The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” (Psalm 121:8)
When Nicodemus came to Jesus, he was genuinely seeking to understand the message which Jesus was proclaiming. But he failed to grasp one central truth. Faith does not begin with proofs and guarantees. It isn’t about waiting until the evidence outweighs your doubts. It is about trusting God enough to take the risk of being transformed so completely that you begin to see the world in a whole new way. “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” (John 3:3) It isn’t predictable. You can’t nail it down and maintain full control. This is God we’re talking about. “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” (John 3:8) Faith is risky business. To embark on a life of faith is to take risks. But those risks are undergirded by our trust that God is in love with us – deeply, intimately, eternally in love with us – and wants only what is ultimate the very best for us.
In “The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe,” the first book in C.S. Lewis’ “The Chronicles of Narnia” series, the children are asking Mr. Beaver about Aslan, the great Lion, who is the Christ figure in these stories. They want to know if he’s safe. To which Mr. Beaver replies, “Safe? . . . Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”
We can take the risk of stepping out our front door, and, indeed, the risk of being swept off into a life we cannot yet see, only when we can remember to trust the One we are seeking to follow down the road.
Singer/Songwriter David Wilcox puts it this way in his song, “Hold It Up To The Light” (click here to hear this song on YouTube):
It’s the choice of a lifetime – I’m almost sure
I will not live my life in between anymore
If I cannot be certain of all that’s in store
This far it feels so right
I will hold it up – hold it up to the light
The search for my future has brought me here
This is more than I’d hoped for, but sometimes I fear
That the choice I was made for will someday appear
And I’ll be too late for that flight
So hold it up – hold it up to the light
It’s too late – to be stopped at the crossroads
Each life here – a possible way
But wait – and they all will be lost roads
Each road’s getting shorter the longer I stay
Now as soon as I’m moving – my choice is good
This way comes through right where I prayed that it would
If I keep my eyes open and look where I should
Somehow all of the signs are in sight
If I hold it up to the light
I said God, will you bless this decision?
I’m scared, Is my life at stake?
But I see if you gave me a vision
Would I never have reason to use my faith?
I was dead with deciding – afraid to choose
I was mourning the loss of the choices I’d lose
But there’s no choice at all if I don’t make my move
And trust that the timing is right
Yes and hold it up, hold it up to the light
Faith is a journey which leads us ultimately into the very heart of God. The journey begins when we take the steps of trust and risk. And then we begin to discover that we have been in the heart of God all along.
Thanks
ReplyDeleteRoger! �� I made it home safe, though not in time for church. Love your sermons! Keep them coming! Send everyone my love! The weather is beautiful here. Snow’s almost melting. Good thing but it’s already dry so pray for no silly smokers throwing their butts out and for lightning to strike at rocks. Good luck with camp miminaugish. Lol. At least I can say the name. Spelling’s another issue.
Blessings!
Sandra