The nest is full again. We were just getting used to the emptiness, to be honest – La Donna, the menagerie and I. But now it is fall break and after many miles over the past couple of days, we have them safely gathered in. And it is good. Nice. A little odd, frankly. Seemingly crowded. But just right. You know?
How could you? I don’t even understand what I just wrote. Or this interesting experience going on around here this weekend. They are the same as the ones we delivered to their respective institutions of learning, and yet they aren’t. It is exciting to watch, to see them grow and change and develop into something faintly recognizable. Exciting and troubling, wonderful and unsettling, making me long for the future and for the past all at the same time.
Yeah, weird, I know. But there it is. Or there I am. Treading water, which seems to be my usual state these days. Not always sure which way to turn, afraid that whichever way chosen only leads to deeper water. Hmm.
Hang on a moment. That isn’t really the tone I intended for this piece. I’m excited about the kids return from college. It was fun to sit around the table and listen to them relate the experiences of their lives and to know that we had prepared them well, or as well as we could. And now we get to enjoy them as the adults they are becoming. What could be more satisfying than that? Can’t think of a thing. I am proud. More than proud, I am blessed.
So, why is there an ache in some random corner of my soul that wishes we could go back? Why is there a longing to be who we were rather than who we are going to be? I wouldn’t begrudge them their adventures and their explorations, I anticipate good things for both. Watching their eyes light up as they talk about favorite subjects, and connections made, opportunities seized is exciting and heartwarming and just as it should be. It is almost as though I can hear the Spirit drawing them off onto their own paths to who knows where, as thrilling and terrifying as that is.
Isaiah 43:1-7 But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. 2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. 3 For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. 4 Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life. 5 Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; 6 I will say to the north, "Give them up," and to the south, "Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth-- 7 everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made."
Isaiah speaks a word to people who are longing. And underwater. Or walking through the rapids of loss and exile, of war and death. And the word he speaks is one of hope. It is a word of redemption. It is a word of comfort. Just what they need. But maybe not what they want.
What they want is a rescue. Take us out of here! Fix it, fix them, fix us. Make it right. That’s what we want in desperate situations. But what we get instead is Presence. I will be with you, thus says the Lord. OK, a good thing. No, a wonderful thing, but ... why don’t we get what we really want? Why don’t we get a wave of the divine hand and circumstances change? Why don’t enemies get sent packing, and good guys get sent home? Why doesn’t God just get up and do something about everything that is wrong is our world right now?
Why doesn’t it say in the forty third chapter of Isaiah that when you sign up for God’s team there won’t be any waters? Why doesn’t is tell us that following God means you won’t have to walk through fire? But it doesn’t say that, does it? No, it says, when you walk through fire! It says when you pass through the waters! When?! It is like it is inevitable. Like a safe bet. Like you’d better just count on it. Well, thanks. Thanks a lot. If God followers aren’t any safer from disaster or catastrophe, then what’s the point? If we don’t have some divine protection from harm, why bother?
That “what’s in it for me?” question really gets under my skin. It sounds like a consumer approach to faith. I’m only interested in what I can get out of it. But once in a while, it is a question that needs asking. What do we get, Isaiah? When the chips are down, when all seems lost, when the questions outnumber the answers, what do we get?
Presence. John Wesley’s last words, it is reported, were “best of all God is with us.” Best of all, he said. Presence is the greatest gift. Presence is grace at work within us. Presence is what enables us to endure whatever the waters bring, whatever the fire burns around us. We are not alone. And not only that, but this Presence is a loving Presence. We are precious to that Presence. We are known by name. And the promise is that wherever we go, wherever this life drives us, for good or for ill, we will be called home to the one who loves us.
It is only in this light that we can make sense of the second passage for this week. Yes, there are two this time, a rare thing. But I wanted to dwell on this first one before turning to Peter and his very first sermon in the book of Acts. It happened on Pentecost day, and we have read it many times. But since we are usually distracted by the sound of the mighty wind and tongues as of flame, we forget that Peter stood up to speak that day. Here is what he said:
Acts 2:14-21 But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. 15 Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning. 16 No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: 17 'In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. 18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. 19 And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. 20 The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day. 21 Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.'
Here again we can get lost in the blood and fire and smoky mist if we aren’t careful. We can get caught up in the interpretation, in looking for the signs, in proclaiming the end times. But Peter says this isn’t a future event that we need to look for, it is happening right now, right then. What was interpreted as drunken revelry was in fact fulfillment of prophecy. This is the Spirit reminding us that we are not alone. We who have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, we who were certain that all our hopes and all our plans were nailed to a cross and cast to the winds of tyranny, we are not alone.
That is what salvation is, says Peter, Presence. The Spirit is present as they walk through that valley. The Christ is present as they take up his mantle of proclaiming good news to the poor and release to the captives. The Father is present as they hear their names called and rise up to follow – and teach and preach and live the gospel with their last breath. Not because they are promised safety, but because of the Presence.
Best of all... I’m glad they are home. Despite the disruption to our new schedules, despite the fact that they insist on continuing to become different people than the ones we sent away, despite that I am lost at times when I try to comprehend where they are going and who they will be ... still I’m glad they are here for a time. Best of all ... God is with us.
Shalom,
Derek
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