21 February 2021, Lent 1

Lent 1 2021

So here we are again, back in Lent. In some ways, it feels like we’ve been in one long lent for the past year! We’ve all had to give up things we enjoy – we’ve all had to go without – and now we’re here – in theory, at the start of lent – and it’s difficult to know how to enter into this season in a fresh and meaningful way.

But as I was thinking about the past year, I realised that I’m not very good at using these times of abstinence to really deepen my relationship with God. Sure, I can go without and give things up – it probably does stop me becoming an alcoholic or overly sugar dependent but I’m not sure it really deepens my prayer life in the way that perhaps it should. I’m not sure it makes me a better disciple of Christ.

So in preparing this sermon, I feel terribly unworthy, a bit of a fraud, a bit of a failure…..I wonder if any of you have felt this way?

If so, God’s words to us, in both the old and new testament reading, should bring us comfort, because they remind us of God’s love for us – his covenant, the good news – that it is not about us being worthy – it is about the fact that we are loved.

The gospel reading has one of my husband’s favourite verses in it – “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

This is probably what we all need to hear more of – you are my child – beloved – with you I am well pleased.

I wonder how we might change and grow if we really believed this.

And here’s one of the interesting things in this story… Jesus hears these words of affirmation, so probably at this point, knows more clearly than ever before their truth, and right after this is driven into the desert to be tempted. In other words, he goes directly from one of the most meaningful encounters with his heavenly Father, straight into the desert.

And it’s not like he chooses to go – this isn’t about Jesus being obedient….Mark says he is driven there by the Spirit – it’s not like any of us choose times of trial and temptation – of wilderness – but we do experience them and, like Jesus, face temptations and wild beasts, at least metaphorically!

Mark’s gospel account of Jesus desert time is very short – it doesn’t go into the details of the temptations, and perhaps that is because we can never really know what Jesus struggled with – but it’s safe to say he did struggle, and for a long time – 40 days means a long time in biblical language!

And like Jesus, perhaps we feel we’ve been forced into a wilderness for a long time. Certainly at the moment, lockdown life feels fairly dreary and unending. And thinking back to previous Lenten seasons, previous times of abstinence, I wonder if we are being given a chance to do thinks differently. To really try and use this time to deepen our spiritual life and faith and draw nearer to God.

For example, maybe a challenge we face, is to use the desert times to keep making good choices, even when God seems far away, just as Jesus had to do. As Debie Thomas writes:  

“The Son of God chose: deprivation over power.  Vulnerability over rescue.  Obscurity over honour.  At every instance in which he could have reached for the certain, the extraordinary, and the miraculous, he reached instead for the precarious, the quiet, and the mundane…..

…Sometimes we, like Jesus, need long stints in the wilderness to learn what it really means to be God’s children.  Because the unnerving truth is this: we can be loved and uncomfortable at the same time.  We can be loved and vulnerable at the same time.  In the wilderness, the love that survives is flinty, not soft.  Salvific, not sentimental. Learning to trust it takes time.  A long time.”

And it the moment, time seems unending – so maybe we can use it to learn to trust – to learn more of how loved we are.

For example, have you ever noticed the fact that, even in the desert, angels wait upon Jesus. Yes, there are struggles, temptations and beasts to face, but there are also angels to minister and sustain him. “Even in the grimmest places, God abides, and somehow, without reason or explanation, help comes.  Rest comes.  Solace comes.  Granted, our angels don't always appear in the forms we prefer, but they come.” (Debie Thomas)

And this makes me wonder – do we recognise the angels in our desert places? Do we see the small things that help us through each day?

 

For me, they include James bringing me cups of tea and coffee, cuddles with the cats, hugs, flowers, people smiling at me in the street. Small things that when life is difficult and God feels very far away, just lift me up and help me carry on.

I wonder what your angels are? What are the things which sustain you and help you carry on?

The gospel reading today is all about the fact that we are loved, both when it seems obvious and we feel it, and when it’s not obvious at all – when perhaps it feels like quite the opposite. We are God’s beloved children in spite of what we might be suffering, what temptations and trials we might face, and even what choices we make.

So as we begin lent this year, maybe we can use this time to make good choices, perhaps to face the temptations and beasts in our lives, and wrestle with them, looking to our angels to support us through the struggles. Maybe we can remember that ultimately, this is about allowing ourselves to be beloved children of God, and that this truth remains, in spite of how far we may feel from it.

On leaving the desert, Jesus goes out to proclaim: ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’

I wonder if the times we spend in the desert, and the time we spend allowing God to love us and doing our best to love God, will help us to shine that love on others.

I wonder if perhaps, we may become angels to others in their deserts, and bring some relief to their trials. Are we able to share the good news and love of Christ through our actions, through the way we live, so that we can help others know that they too are beloved children of God? I’m going to close again, with Debie Thomas….and pray:

“As we begin our journey into Lent, may we experience the companionship of the Christ whose vulnerability became his strength.  May we enter with courage the deserts we can’t choose or avoid.  May our long stints amidst the wild beasts teach us who we really are — the precious and beautiful children of God.  And when the angels in all their sweet and secret guises whisper the name “beloved” into our ears, may we listen, and believe them.”

Clare Heard