Scripture Readings: Jeremiah 31:31–34 | Psalm 119:9–16 | Hebrews 5:5–10 | John 12:20–33

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” (John 12:20-21)
 
Do we wish to see Jesus? Do we desire to see God at work in our world?
 
It seems like a silly question. I mean, of course we would want that, right? To recognize the presence of our Saviour close at hand. To draw near to the eternal King of Kings and Lord of Lords… who also calls us to cast our cares on Him, because He cares for us. To come to know Him more completely. To experience His life. Of course we’d want to see Jesus! Such an obvious answer, right?
 
Maybe. But then again, maybe there’s more to the story than we have considered. Today, the fifth Sunday of Lent, we’re being asked to reflect on what ‘seeing Jesus’ entails… and how it might just change how we ‘see’ everything, and everyone else as well.
 
In our Scripture reading this morning from the twelfth Chapter of the Gospel of John, Jesus invites us to see the surprising way in which the glory of God is made known in the world. But before we reflect on our passage, we need to set the stage a bit.
 
Right before our text this morning comes John’s account of Christ’s ‘triumphant entry’; with Jesus arriving at Jerusalem ahead of the Passover festival, riding into the city on a donkey and greeted by crowd crying: “Hosanna!” and waving palm branches. Next week, on Palm Sunday, we’ll look a bit closer at this significant part of our Lord’s story, but for now it’s important to know the context of Jesus’ words we heard today, as His controversial ministry of signs and sermons gives way to the rising tensions of Holy Week… which we are fast approaching.
 
Riding into the city, we clearly see the expectations of the crowd: they’re welcoming Him as the Messiah, the chosen One of God… descended from King David, and sent to rescue Israel for good. We’re also able to see the panicking of the Pharisees, along with the rest of the Jewish leaders who were plotting against Jesus. Having already been told in the earlier chapters of John’s Gospel that these leaders were looking for way to have Jesus arrested and killed, they looked on in dismay as the crowds of Jerusalem cheered Him on. John 12:19 says, “The Pharisees then said to one another, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the world has gone after him!” As it turns out, they weren’t really all that far off the mark. In the very next verse, we heard that “among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks”… and that they wanted to see Jesus too. This may not seem like a big deal today… but back then it certainly was.
 
There was little love between most Jews and Greeks in Jesus’ day, due to a long and bitter history of clashes and conflict. After Jerusalem and the kingdom of Judah was conquered by Babylon, and it’s people carried away from the land into exile, the Jews had existed under the thumb of several ancient superpowers: the Babylonian Empire, Persians and Medes, who let them return to the Promised Land, and then came the Greeks, with the armies of Alexander the Great, and his power-hungry successors, who fought for control of his vast empire… which, of course, included the region of Judea.  

And like many empires, before and since, the Greeks hoped to spread their own culture, their own language, values, religions, and their whole way of life, forcing the people they conquered to conform, either willingly or not. In Judea, especially during the second century before Christ, this all led to harsh oppression, bloodshed, and essentially cultural genocide… as their Greek-speaking conquerors desecrated the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, and tried brutal ways of forcing Jews to abandon their faith and their God. Eventually, some devout Jews rose up in revolt, retaking control of Jerusalem at least for a time… before the entire region was brought under Roman rule. The Romans at least allowed the Jews to retain their religion and culture, but the tensions with their non-Jewish, Greek-speaking neighbours remained, and continued to fester.
 
Which brings us back to Jesus, riding into Jerusalem, at the climax of His deeply misunderstood mission to Israel. The crowds saw Him as the Messiah, but one who would bring about their desires: a powerful military victory over their non-Jewish oppressors. For them, the Messiah was to bring glory to God by crushing their enemies and bringing Jerusalem enduring freedom and peace at last. On the other side of things, the leadership of Jerusalem saw Jesus through the eyes of jealousy, and fear. Not only were they losing the respect, and influence, and glory they felt they deserved, as more and more of their people looked to Jesus instead of to them… they were also afraid that if Jesus succeeded in starting a revolt, the Romans would step in and crush Jerusalem once and for all. For them, Jesus was a threat to everything that they held dear. Even Jesus’ own disciples, seemed mostly concerned with their own sense of power and greatness. Seeing all His signs and hearing His words, but missing their true meaning. God’s people, it seems… the crowds, the leaders, the disciples, could not yet see Christ clearly. At this point, late in John’s Gospel, I think we’re meant to remember John’s words from the very beginning, where he says in Chapter 1:10-11, “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” But we’re also reminded of this hope too, found in verses 12 & 13, “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”
 
And so, as some Greeks come, seeking Jesus, He says that the fateful hour has now arrived for Him, the Son of Man to be glorified. How? By military might? By rising in fame, power, and influence? By crushing His rivals, and seizing control, like everyone else expected of Him? No. Our Lord makes clear that His hour of glory means going first to the grave. Buried, like a single grain of wheat in the ground, in order to bear much fruit, and bring new life into being. “Very truly, I tell you,” He says to us,  “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.  Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.” (John 12:24-26)
 
Setting aside the praise and expectations of those around Him, He chooses instead to surrender His fate to the will of His Father in Heaven, setting His face towards the cross as the fulfillment of what He had come to do… the only means by which God’s great rescue mission would succeed. As one scholar writes: “Jesus sees his own forthcoming death. It would be so easy to avoid it, to choose the path of human glory and follow the crowd to revolution. But if the seed is not placed in the earth, “it remains alone.”… Jesus’ path to glory will also put him in the ground before he can bring his fruit to his Father.”[1] His glorious victory would be to faithfully face the cross. This is ultimately the place God’s life-giving power shines through the brightest. But what kind of ‘fruit’ was Jesus’ crucifixion and death to bring about? What was accomplished by laying down His life in the grave?
 
More than we could ever imagine, and certainly more than we can speak of today, but our text today points us to some of the ‘fruit’ of our Lord’s life-giving death. At the cross, Jesus reveals the true and glorious heart of God: a heart full of forgiveness, reconciliation, and love… which He intends to bear all sorts of fruit in our lives. N.T. Wright puts it like this: “Jesus’ death will be like sowing a seed into the ground. It will look like a tragedy… In fact, it will be a triumph: the triumph of God’s self-giving love, the love that looks death itself in the face and defeats it by meeting it voluntarily, on behalf not just of Israel but of the whole world, the world represented by these ‘Greeks’.”[2] In the words of our Lord: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself”( John 12:32). All people. Jew. Greek. All. Any who will receive Him, believe in Him… follow Him. And in coming to Him, we find ourselves drawn to each other in His love. To see ourselves, and everyone, only in the light of the cross.
 
Christ died to draw us back to God, and back together too. To bring us God’s forgiveness, reconciliation, and love… and to bring human forgiveness, /reconciliation, and love to life as well. To tear down old hostilities, and put to death our prejudices… to set aside our selfish ways, that we too can share in His glory. Not the glory of this world… the glory of fame, power, or domination… but the glory of God’s eternal love, planted in Jesus at the cross in order to take root and spread through us His people, and out into His world.
 
Do we still want to see Jesus? To draw near the Living God at work in our world? If so, we are pointed first of all to look at Him on the cross: offering His life in God’s own glorious, self-giving love for all of us, Jew… Greek… all of us, while we all were still His enemies. And seeing Him there, offering His saving love to everyone, we are pointed to our enemies… and called to love them too.  
 
How might seeing Jesus offer His life for sinners transform how we see the real people in our lives, and in our wider world? How might it call us to change our attitudes and actions towards the people we’d rather not see? Those we fear? Those we despise? Those we are struggling to forgive? What might we have to set aside if we are to reflect the holy, self-giving love God offers us all in Christ? Our own ambitions? Our bitterness? Our selfishness? Our indifference?
 
Seeing Jesus truly, coming to know Him as He really is will challenge us, and change us, and call us to let His love take root in us. Seeing Him on the cross, there’s no more enemies to overcome… just fellow human beings in need of God’s forgiveness, and New Life. To live this way, to follow Him, means letting our old life die… letting Christ bury our fear, and hate, and evil with Him at the cross. But it also means bearing the fruit of God’s glorious love: becoming the way that God’s goodness, and mercy, and healing power flows into our world, which is still being torn apart by the darkness Christ died to rescue us from.
 
So may the Holy Spirit of God help us always to see Jesus: to remember His self-giving love offered once and for all on the cross. May His love take root within us, may it change how we see and treat those in our lives, and by His grace, may we bear all the fruit that comes from following Jesus. Amen.
 


[1] Richard A. Burridge, “Fifth Sunday in Lent, Year B,” in The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts, Volume Three, ed. Roger E. Van Harn (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), 542.
 

[2] Tom Wright, John for Everyone, Part 2: Chapters 11-21 (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 2004), 29–30.

​​Our All-Ages Song for Lent can be found here:

Scripture Readings: Numbers 21:4–9 | Psalm 107:1–3, 17–22 | Ephesians 2:1–10 | John 3:14–21

And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. (John 3:14)

What comes to our minds when we look at a cross?

For many, crosses are simply a common Christian symbol… an image closely identified with one of the world’s religions. With a bit more reflection, of course, crosses become a lot more uncomfortable. Long before Christianity, crosses were simply instruments of death… a form of brutal execution, designed to cause all sorts of suffering, as well as to publicly display the powerlessness of the victim, all while showcasing the supremacy of those who had them lifted up.
 
This tension isn’t erased when we turn to the story of Jesus either, for the crucifixion of Jesus exposes the worst of what’s wrong with the world: as this upright, innocent man is betrayed, /and handed over to humiliation, suffering, and a cruel death in an absolutely atrocious act of injustice.
 
And yet… from the very beginning, Christians have looked back on the cross as absolutely central to the Good News of God, seeing it as the focal point of genuine forgiveness, and the indispensable pillar holding up all of our hope. The season of Lent lays before us the road to the cross, and it calls us to contemplate its deeper significance. And so today, the fourth Sunday of Lent, we’re drawn towards an odd passage from the Book of Numbers (or as it’s known in Hebrew: In the Wilderness), a story about doubt, deadly snakes, and a curious cure… a story picked up by Jesus Himself to point us to His purpose: to shed much needed light upon His mission of redemption.
 
The story takes place in the wilderness, as the people of Israel are being lead by God through Moses from slavery in Egypt into a whole new life, and new land of their own. At this point, they’ve already spent years travelling in the desert, consistently provided for by the gracious hand of God. And yet, they consistently prove themselves to be quick to turn on the LORD… exposing their lack of trust in His love for them, and betraying Him in their hearts every time they find themselves in trouble.

“Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?” we heard them say today, “For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” (Numbers 21:5). The scholar Elizabeth Achtemeier sums up their reaction like this: “Absent is any recollection of their gracious deliverance by the hand of God. Gone are all thoughts of the covenant they have entered into with the Lord at Mount Sinai. Forgotten is the divine promise that they are to be God’s chosen, holy nation and a kingdom of priests. Their present discomfort and suffering rob them of the memory of God’s gracious redemption and faithful day-and-night guidance of them.”[1] And so, in the face of Israel’s persistent unfaithfulness, serpents are sent, bringing to light the people’s sin… with dire consequences.
 
In this case at least, the people’s suffering seems to bring them to their senses. In Numbers 21:7 we’re told they “came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” (Numbers 21:7). In response to their repentance, the LORD doesn’t remove the deadly serpents, but He does mercifully provide their means of survival… one which requires those bitten to respond with trust in God.

“And the Lord said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.”  (Numbers 21:8-9)
 
How was that supposed to work?!? The story doesn’t care about unpacking the mechanics of the miracle. In many ways, it remains a strange story for us today. But there are a few points that this part of Israel’s story raises for us to ponder: First, God’s people had turned away from Him in distrust and ungratefulness, bringing about their own suffering  and death as a result. Yet God provided for them a sign which brought about salvation: despite their betrayal, they would live if they trusted in the LORD’s gift… if they looked on the serpent of bronze, which was raised up to rescue them.
 
Turning now to the Gospel of John, we hear Jesus draw this odd episode from Israel’s past into His own unfolding story, in the context of a conversation with one of the teachers of Judah. In John chapter 3, were told that a pharisee named Nicodemus came one night seeking to speak with Jesus. A risky move, considering that by this point, our Lord was already becoming a controversial figure. But Nicodemus seems open to what Jesus was up to. “Rabbi,” he says, “we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” (John 3:2). Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus was sent from the Living God, the same LORD who had rescued Israel from Egypt centuries earlier, and had led them through the wilderness and into the Promised Land. He sees at work in Jesus the holy presence of God… but our Lord takes this conversation in a surprising direction. “Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” (John 3:3)
 
What follows is a back and forth between Jesus and a puzzled Nicodemus, where it becomes clear that our Jesus is presenting Himself as more than a godly teacher, but as the One sent with the unique role of revealing God work in the world. “No one has ascended into heaven” He says, “except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.”  And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” (John 3:13-15)
 
If you blink, you’ll miss it. Just one line thrown into a complicated, multilayered exchange. But by referencing this ancient story of doubts, and snakes, and salvation, Jesus is shedding important light on what He claims He has come to do… comparing Israel’s unfaithfulness in the wilderness to the situation in Nicodemus’ day… and in our own!
 
Just as in the wilderness, long ago, where Israel had turned their back on the LORD, doubting His faithfulness, forgetting His gracious deliverance and covenant with them, grumbling against His provisions, and despising the path He was leading them on, Jesus was making the case that God’s people were again betraying the LORD, and so were headed for disaster. The leadership of God’s people at the time of Nicodemus had claimed to be concerned with being faithful to the LORD, obeying His covenant, and walking in His ways. Yet time and again their response to Jesus’ actions and words exposed their hardened hearts, towards God and their neighbours. They had become preoccupied with their own preservation, instead of pursuing their calling to be God’s people in the world. It was as if they were reliving their ancestor’s unfaithfulness in the wilderness: preferring the darkness of hypocrisy, selfishness, and pride to the light of the LORD… and by evoking this story, Christ was exposing the sin of His people. Not just in Jerusalem that day, but in our day and age as well.
 
How have we relived the sins of Israel in the wilderness? How have we re-enacted the same distrust, ungratefulness, and contempt of God’s holy ways in our own lives? Perhaps paying lip service to the commandments of God, while happy to hide much of our heart’s desires in the dark?
 
This isn’t easy to think about. It’s even harder to talk about. It’s so much more comfortable to turn a blind eye to our darkness… instead of stepping into the light so that it can all be dealt with. But just as Israel’s guilt, in the wilderness, and in Nicodemus’ day, was only the beginning and not the end of the story, our own failures and sinfulness don’t have the final say either. We too are offered hope and forgiveness from the LORD, as Christ reveals God’s merciful response to all our unfaithfulness.
 
As He did long ago in the wilderness, God has provided a saving gift, only this one was meant not for one betrayal, but for all betrayals… not for one moment in history, but for all of time… not only for one people, but for all the families of the earth… offering new life to any and all who look at the Christ, the Son of Man ‘lifted up’ on the cross, and see in Him, in His suffering and death, God’s unending love for sinners… and place their trust, no longer in themselves, but in Him. “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” (John 3:14-17)
 
In connecting His mission with the story from Numbers Chapter 21, Jesus was not simply exposing the darkness at work in all of our lives… He is pointing us to the remedy for our spiritual sicknesses: that is, His own life, lifted up on the cross, and offered as a gift of love from God to our messed up world. As one scholar puts it: “Like the dying Israelites looking to the snake “lifted up” for healing, we are to see in Jesus’ broken body “lifted up” on an instrument of torture our healing and the source of eternal life.”[2] For the Israelites in the wilderness, looking at the bronze snake, would no doubt be deeply uncomfortable: a clear reminder that they had brought about their own misery. But if they responded to the invitation to look at it anyway, trusting in God’s mercy, it was transformed from a reminder of suffering, sin, and death into a gift meant to ensure their survival.
 
For you and I, looking at Jesus on the cross, we are forced to remember the reasons for His suffering: our sin, but ultimately God’s love. We are invited to look at Jesus lifted up on the cross and see much more than the brutal result of human betrayal and unfaithfulness… we’re invited to see the merciful love of the Living God for sinners like us, and looking at Him in faith, we are offered forgiveness, reconciliation, and God’s everlasting life, which we now know that even the grave itself is powerless to stop.

Jesus endured the cross for us as an act of God’s saving love. His whole mission was not to condemn, but to offer us His life, once and for all. As we draw nearer to Holy Week, to the suffering of Christ on the cross, may we remember that, for us, it is always a sign of God’s great love: drawing us out of the darkness and into God’s life-giving light, where everyone can find forgiveness, healing, and hope.  
Amen.


[1] Elizabeth Achtemeier, “Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year B,” in The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts, Volume One (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), 120–121.

[2] Richard A. Burridge, “Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year B,” in The Lectionary Commentary: Theological Exegesis for Sunday’s Texts, Volume Three, ed. Roger E. Van Harn (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), 500.

Today we mark the fourth Sunday of the holy season of Lent. 
It is a time of repentance, renewed obedience, and preparation for the celebration of Holy Week: the crucifixion and saving death of Jesus Christ on Good Friday, and the joyous resurrection of our Lord on Easter. 

The season of Lent draws together a host of important biblical themes. Here is a short video from the Bible Project that can help us explore the theme of The Messiah. 

​Our All-Ages Song for Lent can be found here:

​And our other Songs can be found here:

​Our All-Ages Song for Lent can be found here:

Scripture Readings: Genesis 17:1–7, 15–16 | Psalm 22:23–31 | Romans 4:13–25 | Mark 8:31–38

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. Mark 8:34-35
 
For many today, self-denial presents a serious struggle. Our current culture is one in which we’re urged to give in to our urges… to pursue what makes us ‘happy’ as one of the highest goals in life. We can see this at work in the blatant consumerism all around us… promising us fulfillment if we’ll buy into what they’re selling. We can also see this at work in the more belligerent resistance to making simple concessions for the sake of the safety of others… like wearing masks in public during a global pandemic. But before we get to comfortable pointing our fingers at those ‘other’ people, it’s good to remember that this same struggle is at work in us as well. No one loves to be told to do what we don’t really want to do. To go against our own instincts, or set aside our plans. To do something like that requires a whole lot of trust… trust in the one who is asking us to follow their lead instead.

 In our Scripture readings today from the book of Genesis and the Gospel of Mark, we find the Living God at work inviting His people to trust Him: to set aside our own agendas, and hand our lives over to Him.
 
In our reading from Genesis 17, we heard the Living God reaffirm His relationship with Abram and Sarai, who He renames Abraham and Sarah. We heard God call them into a deeper, life-shaping commitment, promising that through them both would come many nations and kings. This all sounds wonderful, especially for Abraham and Sarah, who were both well beyond the age when having children was even possible. God’s promising them more then they could ever achieve on their own. But wrapped up in this wonderful promise is also an invitation to faith, by saying no to their own ideas about the way forward. This is a call to take God at His word, even if it seems impossible.
 
Backing up a bit in Abraham’s story, this all becomes a bit clearer. In Chapter 15, God promises that Abram will have children of his own… offspring who will carry on his line, despite his advanced age. In Chapter 15:5-6, God tells him: “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” 6 And [Abram] believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.” So far so good. He trusted God, and took Him at His word, but as their story unfolds, we can see that Abram and Sarai will continue to struggle to let go of control… causing deep pain and wickedness as a result.
 
Right after God makes this promise, in Genesis Chapter 16, Sarai decides the only way forward is to take matters into her own hands, by making her Egyptian slave sleep with Abram, to bear him a son. Calling to mind how Eve took the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and gave it to Adam, choosing to go their own way, instead of staying true to the LORD, Genesis 16:3 says “Sarai, Abram’s wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her slave-girl, and gave her to her husband Abram as a wife.” Together they use this vulnerable person as a tool to achieve their own ends… and from this act, all sorts of cruelty and division unfold in their family. And yet, God steps in to bring life and hope to Hagar and Ishmael her son… leading us to Chapter 17 where the LORD has words with Abram and Sarai. “I am God Almighty”, He reminds them, able to be faithful, despite all their doubts, and for their part they’re to walk before Him “and be blameless.” How they live in the world as His people matters: their faith needs to take shape in all they do. Letting go of their own agendas, and letting God lead them onward.
 
In short, God calls Abraham and Sarah to a renewed relationship of faithfulness; trusting that the LORD would be true to His word, as impossible as it may seem, and that they were to let go of their need for control, and follow His holy ways.
 
In our Gospel reading today, we find another call to faithfulness, another wonderful promise, and another struggle at work.
 
We heard Jesus our Lord making clear what it means to be His disciple: it means denying ourselves, taking up our crosses, and following Him. The scholar R.T. France makes an important point about what this really entails: “The metaphor of taking up one’s own cross is not to be domesticated into an exhortation merely to endure hardship patiently. In this context… it is an extension of Jesus’ readiness for death to those who follow him, and the following verses will fill it out still in terms of the loss of life, not merely the acceptance of discomfort. While it may no doubt be legitimately applied to other and lesser aspects of the suffering involved in following Jesus, the primary reference in context must be to the possibility of literal death.”[1] As was the case for Christians throughout the ages, and even to this day, following Jesus means putting it all on the line: it may lead us to our death.
 
This is a clear call for serious commitment. For entrusting our entire lives to the LORD. But with this call to deny ourselves, comes the promise of New Life. Unlike the fleeting security and false fulfillment our world has to offer, Jesus is leading us into the eternal life of God. “For those who want to save their life will lose it,” Jesus says, “and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark 8:35). Just as the LORD promised that Abraham & Sarah would have offspring of their own, as impossible as it seemed, Christ promises that as hard as discipleship may be, it will all be worth it! That following Him to the cross is truly the path to life. The question again becomes: will we take Christ at His word?

​Backing up again… before Christ says these challenging yet promising words, we heard what led Him to utter them: the challenge from Peter. Moments before, Peter had been the first to confess that Jesus was more than simply a teacher, a miracle worker, or prophet, but was in fact the Christ, the Chosen Messiah of God, sent to rescue His people, and bring God’s good kingdom at last. It’s clear Peter believed in Jesus… but just like Abram and Sarai before him, he struggled to let go of his own ideas of how God’s plan would unfold. Unable to reconcile his own vision  of what it meant to be the Messiah, with Jesus’ words about rejection, suffering, and death, Peter tried to turn his Master away from His dangerous mission… but ended up getting in the way of God’s kingdom.
 
So Christ has words with Peter, calling him to remember that our human ways are not the same as the ways of God. That despite how frightening the path before them might be, enduring the cross was the only way God’s good kingdom would be able to come. To trust that Jesus is the Christ means letting Him lead us onward… sharing in His sufferings, to also share in His New Life.
 
As Christians today, faced with our own struggles, temptations, and doubts, we too are invited to trust in Christ, and follow Him in faith. To let our plans and actions be shaped and guided by His holy love; to bring to Him our fears of losing control, and suffering; to remember that God Almighty can truly handle what lies before us; and to believe that our Saviour will see us safely home.
 
Christ’s call for us to deny ourselves is above all else an invitation to trust Him. Not only once and a while, but all throughout our days. So may the Holy Spirit give us the faith to pick up our crosses and follow Jesus. Living God’s way in the world, as He leads us into Life. Amen.  
 


[1] R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Carlisle: W.B. Eerdmans; Paternoster Press, 2002), 340.
 

​Our All-Ages Song for Lent can be found here:

This has been a year in which our world has been confronted with our human mortality, our fragility, and need for mercy in a profound and extended way. As followers of Christ, today we commemorate Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent, in which we put this reality of our pain and brokenness into the context of the saving story of God, in which Jesus Christ has embraced us in His own death for us "while we were still sinners" (Romans 5:8), in order that we might share in His own resurrection life.

Here you will find our At-Home Ash Wednesday service, so that each household can mark this sacred day together, even though we are not gathering all together at St. Luke's Church at this time. I will be at St. Luke's this evening to offer the Imposition of Ashes portion of the service individually (and in a safe manner) from 7-8PM for any who desire this particular ministry.

You will also find a link to a reflection on Lent by Rev. James W. Farwell (Professor of Theology and Liturgy, and  Director of Anglican Studies at Virginia Theological Seminary), entitled "Must We Do Lent This Year?", which I hope will be edifying.

Many blessings as we begin this sacred season of Lent, aware of our many needs, yet confident in the faithfulness of our Saviour.

​Rob+

Scripture Readings: 1 Samuel 16:1-13 | Psalm 23 | Ephesians 5:8-14 | John 9:1-41

​For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord. (Ephesians 5:8-10, NRSV).

           

This past week has certainly been an eventful one, hasn’t it? Last Sunday we were still wrapping our heads around things like ‘passing the peace’ with a wave, light refreshments instead of our weekly fellowship meal, and only sharing the Bread together during Communion. Now suddenly we are required to cease gathering altogether… to worship the Lord as the scattered members of His Church, not to mention all of the other major adjustments in the rhythms of our daily lives. It is amazing how much can change in such a short time.
           
But change is nothing new for us. From the beginning, we Christians have been a people of change, although at times we may have forgotten this important part of our collective past. As individual believers we have each been called into a life of discipleship: of continuous learning and growing and training in the way of Jesus, our Master. And as the Church, we are called to be a community that is aligned to God’s good will, and to be willing ourselves to be realigned to Him whenever we get off track. As St. Paul wrote to the Church in Ephesus, which we read together this morning, though we were once in darkness, in Jesus, we are to leave that form of life firmly behind us… we are to be changed… and now we are to live (together and alone) as children of the light.
           
In our Gospel lesson this morning we heard a dramatic (and enlightening) account of one man’s life-changing encounter with Jesus… how the Living God gave sight, in more ways than one, to a man who was born blind.
            
But first things first, of course. This story does not begin with the man suddenly deciding to change himself… or even with him taking the initiative to ask for help. No, here we are told that it all simply began when Jesus saw the man. Christ saw this man in his blindness… and did not pass him by. In our suffering, or blindness, or darkness, can we believe that Christ sees us?  
           
The disciples saw the man too, of course… but not in the same way at all. Rather than be moved with compassion, they instead focused in on his problems… preoccupied with wondering whose fault was it that the man had been born blind in the first place. In those days, (not unlike our own) it was often assumed that physical impairments like congenital blindness were the result of God’s judgment on sin… that someone must have ‘done’ something to deserve that painful lot in life. For the disciples, this man’s predicament had them playing the ‘blame game’; trying to make sense of it all by finding out for certain who is at fault. Before we start picking on the disciples though, we might want to ask ourselves how often we do the same kind of thing… fixating on problems and searching for ‘causes’, but not actually doing much good.
           
Jesus doesn’t answer their question though. At least, not in the way they were expecting. He does not offer them an explanation for the man’s situation. He does not lay any blame or answer their big questions about the causes of human suffering. No, Jesus points them instead to what God’s work, God’s good will actually look like in action: He gives them a glimpse of His New Creation… New Life, beyond all expectations.
           
Disregarding the taboos against working on the Sabbath, Christ makes mud from some dirt and his own spit, rubs it on the blind man’s eyes, and tells him to go wash in the pool named ‘Sent’. We are told the blind (and no doubt confused) man listens to Jesus… he goes and washes himself just as he was told, and miraculously receives full sight for the first time in his life. In an instant, his whole life was changed, completely transformed… and in the same moment, his journey of faith had begun.
           
The rest of our Gospel passage plays out with a comic back and forth between the spiritual experts, who stubbornly refuse to see God’s re-creative work right in their midst, and this unlearned man who had just received his sight… and who is slowly coming to see that Jesus really is the One sent from God to do His divine work: who finds him at last and takes him from living in darkness into the light of faith… re-creating his physical eyes, yes, but even more importantly giving him spiritual eyes to recognize the Living God at work in Jesus… and to believe in Christ wholeheartedly, and worship Him as Lord.
           
This passage from John’s Gospel is a beautiful story of how Jesus completely changed someone’s life: setting them free and drawing them deeper towards the light and life of God. But it is also a story meant to invite us to reflect on our own stories too. How is Jesus drawing us deeper into His light today? How are we being asked to exercise faith in the Living God, and let Him bring about His new creation through us?
           
Like the disciples, it can be easy for us to fixate on all the troubles we see. Especially with all of the uncertainty, suffering, selfishness, and fear at work around us. And like the Pharisees, there are lots of ways we too can resist God’s invitation to share in His light: there are things we can cherish and cling to that keep us back from the life we have been called to live. But in Jesus, we have been made children of God’s light… and are the means by which God wants to share His hope, peace, truth, and holy love with those still in darkness (in whatever form it may take). So how can we take seriously our calling as children of the light? Especially today, as we find ourselves mostly stuck in our homes?
           
First things first, of course: the Christian journey doesn’t start off with us simply changing ourselves, but with listening to and believing in the One who re-creates us.

How do we live as children of light? We seek to draw close to Jesus. In faith we seek to let Him draw us deeper into the light and life of God. We pray… not simply sharing our words and worries with the Lord, but we also let go of our own agendas we make room for listening to Him. We read and study the Scriptures, trusting that through these written sacred words that the Holy Spirit is still at work revealing God’s purposes and mission, and is transforming and enabling us to take part in it as well. We worship, intentionally honouring the goodness and glory of God, and orienting our own lives around Him as our Lord. And as we do all this, we keep our eyes open… we actively look for ways that He might be opening up for us to share in His re-creative work. We ask Christ to show us those people (maybe they’re right before our eyes), that He wants us to reach out and help, or comfort, or challenge, or connect with. And we ask Him to show us what we need to let go of so we can be free to do His will.
           
​So let us commit to persevering in prayer (for ourselves, for each other, and for our world), to listening to the Scriptures, and turning our hearts to God in worship, that our Saviour will show us what it means to live in His light today. Amen.

Scripture Readings: Exodus 17:1-7 | Psalm 95 | Romans 5:1-11 | John 4:5-42​

“But we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,  and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5, NRSV).

One of my favorite cartoon strips of all time is Calvin and Hobbes. Does anyone remember that one? For those of us unfamiliar with this brilliant work of illustrated literature, Calvin and Hobbes is about the imaginative life of a young boy and his stuffed tiger. Together they get into all sorts of trouble and have amazing adventures, and Calvin often ends up butting heads with every adult around. Not that it usually does him much good, in the end.
           
Time and again, we readers find Calvin grumbling and complaining about the cruelty and injustice of adults, especially his parents, when they ask him to do his homework eat his supper or finish some chores. Against all of Calvin’s complaints when things don’t go his way, his unsympathetic father usually resorts to repeating the same simple response: “just do it anyway… it builds character.” Whatever unpleasant, or difficult tasks lie ahead they should just be endured… because suffering, apparently… builds character.
           
Unsurprisingly Calvin doesn’t find this message all that compelling, and he often ends up suspecting that his parents are out to get him; that they really don’t care about what’s best for him. That ultimately, he (and Hobbes, of course) have to fend for themselves.
           
This past week it seems like everywhere you turn, there’s more news about COVID-19: This new respiratory virus that has captured the minds it appears, of our entire world. There’s a lot of fear and anxiety driving the actions of many: fear of not having enough of the things we need; fear of suffering, sickness and death, both for ourselves and our loved ones; and for a whole lot of us there’s also just the plain old fear of the unknown, as everything around us seems suddenly so unstable.
           
These are not necessarily unreasonable fears, by the way. As a friend reminded me yesterday: this is especially true for the most vulnerable. For the poor, for our elders, for those with other health complications, there is a lot at risk right now… especially if the rest of us choose to give our own fears free reign and turn our backs on our neighbours, only looking after ourselves. It’s OK to feel afraid at times. But what we do when we’re faced with our fears, really does matter, especially if we are called to care for those around us.
           
So as disciples of Jesus Christ, how are we called to respond? How should we react in genuinely fearful situations? We know we shouldn’t panic, but then what should we do? Just suffer through it? Does our passage from Romans command us to simply endure it all? Is St. Paul, like Calvin’s uninspired and un-sympathetic father telling us: “just to suck it up” because whatever difficulties we might have to face “builds our character”? Is that all the hope that we have to hold onto?
           
Today we heard in the Scriptures another story of when God’s people had to face a genuinely fearful situation, and this story opens up for us a way to answer that question. The book of Exodus tells of how the LORD rescued Israel, delivering them from slavery in Egypt and setting them free to live with Him. Our reading takes place in the early days of Israel’s rescue: not too long after all the plagues, and the parting of the sea, and just after the LORD provides them with manna, food from heaven. All along this journey so far God had graciously, and patiently led His people to freedom, as they stumbled along after Him into the unknown. And today we heard, how they ended up in the wilderness without water. They were faced with a frightening shortage of one of their most basic needs.
           
In their genuine fear of thirst, suffering, and death, (which I think all of us can completely understand), the Israelites turned against their LORD: calling into question His integrity and goodness, and also His ability to ultimately save them. “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” They could only conclude, it seems, that God didn’t care. That the LORD would bring them all that way, then abandon them to die.
           
How often are we tempted to believe the same as they did? That the Living God ultimately doesn’t care about us? When we’re faced with the unknown... with our own insufficiencies… with the grim possibility of our suffering or death… When we are genuinely afraid, we are also being asked to answer this question: “Do we still believe that God actually loves us? Will we continue to believe that the LORD really cares?”
           
Despite all their doubts, and their ungratefulness, this part of the story of Exodus, of Israel faltering out of fear,  gives us a glimpse into the grace of the Living God and points us to the source of our own enduring hope. The LORD does not leave even His unfaithful people to fend for themselves, or tell them simply to “suck it up” and endure their sufferings quietly. No, mercifully... miraculously… the LORD still delivers them, pouring out life-giving water as Moses strikes the rock. The LORD remains faithful and cares for His people, even when they had failed to trust in His saving love.
           
This sacred story invites us to learn from Israel’s early failure, and to hold onto our faith when we are faced with genuine fear. To entrust ourselves again to the saving love of our LORD, and to place our hope firmly in Him whatever comes our way. 
           
Even when we  can’t seem to see the way forward anymore. Even when we don’t seem to have all that we need. Even when we are faced with suffering, loss, or death: God is asking us to trust Him, to trust in His enduring love.. a love ultimately made known in the crucifixion of Jesus. Just as Moses struck the Rock and God’s gracious water poured out to spare His people, Christ was stricken for our sake “while we were still sinners” to bring God’s saving life to us and to our world.
           
When our genuine fears would have us question whether or not God really loves us, let us turn again and again and again to the cross of Christ.
           
That is what St. Paul urges the Christians in Rome and us, to do: Not simply to suffer in silence, in order to “build our character”… but rather to face whatever lies ahead by trusting in God’s saving love which can turn even our sufferings into a source of hope:
           
Excuse the long quotation, but let us hear our reading from Romans again as St. Paul anchors our confidence in the saving love of Christ: “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; /and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.  And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
           
For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.  Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die.  But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners …Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God.  
                       
For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.”
           
What are we Christians to do when we’re faced with genuine fear? We are not asked to ignore them… to pretend they are not real. But fears and all, we’re called to look to our Saving LORD in faith. To lean on Christ’s life-giving love and let Him lead the way as He calls us to genuinely care for those all around us… and to share the hope we have in Him through our words and our actions.

Through the Holy Spirit at work in us, may this be so. Amen.

Scripture Readings: Genesis 2:12-17, 3:1-7 | Psalm 32 | Romans 5:12-19 | Matthew 4:1-11

For just as by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous. (Romans 5:19, NRSV).

How do we stay faithful when faced with temptation?

God’s people have been wrestling with this question for ages. From the beginning we have come to know that as we seek to live God’s way, we will have to face all sorts of snares, obstacles, and outright lies… which aim to distract and direct us away from our gracious LORD. So Christians throughout the ages have tried to come up with plans and strategies in order to help to keep us on the straight and narrow path. For instance:
           
When I was a teenager, back in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, there was one particular trend that I can remember well: does anyone else here remember WWJD? It’s a slogan often printed on bracelets or other simple objects, that stands for “What Would Jesus Do?” The idea was that when faced with a morally confusing or tempting situation, we should just ask ourselves the question: ‘What would Jesus do here?’ and our answer would help us figure out the right way to respond, to clarify for us how we too can be good, what it is that we can do to act more like Jesus would.
           
As well-meaning, and practical, as this catchphrase might seem to be, we are led in a very different direction by the Scriptures this morning. Instead of having us ask the question ‘What would Jesus do?’, we are being asked to reflect on what it was that Jesus actually did. We’re pointed away from ourselves, and our struggles with how to figure out right from wrong, and pointed towards the one, we are told, has come to set us free.
           
Let’s begin back in the beginning: with our reading from Genesis. Where we heard that originally the Living God placed humanity in Paradise, entrusting it to them and giving them one straightforward command: “You may freely eat of every tree of the garden;” God says “but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” All of God’s good creation stood open before them, just listen to God and don’t eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Yet tempted and deceived, humans take and eat the fruit, trusting in serpent’s word they seized upon the temptation to make themselves like God, to know right and wrong for themselves. And their eyes were opened, but so was the rift between them and their Maker, with the shame and guilt of sin now cutting them off from God and the innocent life they had known with Him, instead of living in Paradise they find themselves cast out into the wilderness to fend for themselves.
           
As we may know this is the story of original sin: of the first and fatal fracture in all of God’s good creation, the source of every evil still at work in our world, as we humans cut ourselves off from our gracious Creator and chose to forge our own path… to do things “our way.” In the Scriptures we hear that this tragic turn was more than a one-time mistake, it becomes the familiar enduring pattern of human history as a whole.
           
But alongside this tragic story, beginning with Adam and Eve, running through the stories of Abraham and the Israelites, the Bible insists on offering us this hope: that the Living God has not given up on His people or humanity, but will take action Himself to break this cycle and to turn our story around. And so finally, we are told God comes to our aid through His beloved Son: Jesus, who is led out into the wilderness to bring us back to Paradise, overcoming our failures… with His faithfulness.
           
In our Gospel reading from Matthew we hear of this dramatic encounter between Jesus the Messiah and the tempter: the devil, who seeks to throw Christ off track through a series of three temptations: all designed to drive a wedge between Jesus and His Heavenly Father.
           
First: “If you’re really God’s Son” the devil says, “turn these stones You see into bread. Show your power as the Son of God and take matters into Your own hands, miraculously find a way to satisfy Your own hunger. If God really loved You, surely He would not want You to go hungry.” But Christ does not take the bait.
           
Next, the devil says: “Throw Yourself from the top of the Temple, prove Your faith in Your Father’s rescuing power, show Yourself and all of Jerusalem that You really are God’s Son.” Again, Jesus doesn’t fall for the trap.
           
Finally, the devil goes all in: “Worship me,” he says to Jesus, “and I’ll give you the world. Everything… all power and authority it all can be Yours. You really don’t need God, just bow down to me. Choose Your own path apart from Your Father.”
           
This is the root and goal, after all  of every temptation we face: the temptation that is, not to trust God… to not trust in His goodness, His wisdom, His justice, or His mercy… to live as if we are the ones who ultimately know what’s best, and that it’s up to us to make it happen… to see our will be done.
           
And this is the temptation that Jesus overcame, not because He was strong or wise enough to choose to be good, and not to be evil all by Himself, but because again and again Jesus chooses to trust the will of God. As the Son of God made flesh, He specifically DOES NOT choose what is right for Himself... because His whole embodied life was about trusting His Heavenly Father: remaining completely united with the Source of all goodness and life.
           
As Christ’s disciples we too are not called to seek our own independent ‘goodness’, to simply weigh the good and bad in life for ourselves, or even to ask ourselves what we think Jesus would do, and then try to live up to His example as best we can. No, we are called first of all to faith: to believe in Jesus Christ, to entrust ourselves entirely to Him. To the One Who perfectly embodied the good will God, and opened up a way for us to share in it with Him. Christ lived out the prayer: “Not my will, O LORD but Your’s be done.” And led by that trust the innocent One took up our cross for us, and gave His life to reunite us with our graciously Heavenly Father.
             
We are all tempted daily in a variety of ways, but every temptation, at it’s root, is the voice beckoning us not to trust in God. To trust in ourselves & our own judgment, and to doubt His goodness, His holiness & grace… to doubt His love for us, a love which is shown most clearly in the cross of God’s beloved Son: the only completely faithful One who died to save the rest of us.  
           
What Jesus did for us is our victory over temptation. It is the means by which God Himself comes to our rescue, exposing the lies that would draw us away from Him, forgiving our sins, and enabling us to follow Him in faith. Christ doesn’t simply show us how to save ourselves from temptation, He overcomes humanity’s disobedience, our disobedience, in order to set us free to be reconciled to God: inviting us to turn to Him in faith and seek His mercy, and through His Holy Spirit, at work in us even now, Christ shares His righteousness with us and helps us to be faithful.
           
When we’re faced with temptations, whatever they may be, we are not simply left to figure out our own way forward. We have a gracious Saviour: Jesus, the faithful One, who came to bring us back out of the wilderness and safe again in God’s arms.
                         
Now to him who is able to keep you from falling, and to make you stand without blemish in the presence of his glory with rejoicing, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. (Jude 24-25).
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Scripture Readings: Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 | Psalm 51:1-17 | 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 | Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
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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, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing. (Joel 2:12-13, NRSV)

I love Ash Wednesday.

That might seem a bit strange, considering the heavy nature of this day: marking, as it does, the beginning of the 40 days of Lent with self-reflection, acknowledging sin, and an earnest call for repentance. In truth, it is not a comfortable time, but it is a sacred time… a gift from the LORD to His people and intended for our good.
           
One facet of this sacred gift which I deeply appreciate, is the way Ash Wednesday invites us to abandon our pretensions. To get really real, with God, yes, and also with each other. To decidedly set aside all of our attempts to pretend that we have finally gotten ourselves to a place where we no longer need mercy; to cease trying to convince ourselves and others, that we’ve got it all under control. To cut through all the pleasantries and face the truth together.
             
In our Gospel passage taken from the Sermon on the Mount, Christ warns His disciples about the temptations of hypocrisy: of play-acting with our faith… and putting on spiritual performances that does not in truth reflect the reality of our lives. Of using religious practices and holy patterns of life not to seek the LORD or walk in His ways, but to chase our own desires: especially those things that offer us a false sense of superiority: things like honour respect status acceptance. But Ash Wednesday cuts through these false promises and levels the field for us inviting us into a way of life, not grounded in our performance or on the opinions of others, but in the mercy and love of God offered to us all at the foot of the cross.
           
For the cross is ultimately where Ash Wednesday wants to direct our gaze… it is the suffering and death of Jesus that Lent beckons us to remember. Yes, through the prayers and practices of this sacred season: through our Lenten fasts our self-reflection, our offerings, and repentance, we are asked to take a long honest look at our lives. To acknowledge the truth of our brokenness, our limits and our sins, in order for our eyes to be firmly drawn away from ourselves, from both our so-called successes, and from our faults and failures too,  so that our hope and faith might be finally fixed on the merciful face of our Saviour… so that we might turn to Christ, who Himself bore our brokenness, limits, and sins so that we might share in His righteousness.
           
Ash Wednesday and Lent do not task us with self-perfection or self-mastery. It is not about finding ways to become better people. No. They invite us to honestly turn our eyes in faith to Jesus our Saviour… and to follow Him in the way of God’s suffering, saving love.
           
This too is a merciful gift to us. As one theologian puts it: "We are able to follow him only because he was able to do what we cannot do, that is, he alone was capable of freeing us from the grip of sin through his cross." (Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew, (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2006), p.75.) 
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From first to last Ash Wednesday reminds us we cannot save ourselves… in truth, we are dust, and to dust we shall return. But it reminds us this in order that we might cling always to our Saviour. To set aside all that would keep us from His gracious arms, and together find ourselves embraced by His steadfast love and mercy, offered to us all through the blood of His cross.
           
I love Ash Wednesday… because it reminds us of the depths of God’s love. This Lent may the Holy Spirit grant that our eyes be always fixed on Jesus, and may our lives be remade by His mercy and love. Amen.