From Darkness to Light
In the Wilderness
Matthew 4:1-11
February 10, 2008
First Sunday in Lent
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
It seems like yesterday that we gathered in this very room to sing carols and
celebrate again the birth of the baby who was "wrapped in swaddling clothes and
laid in a manger;" and now here we are on the first Sunday in Lent, preparing to
journey to Jerusalem with the all grown up baby Jesus. Wasn't it just last week that
we stood on a mountaintop of joy and heard again the voice of God saying, "This is
my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!"? And now here we
are with that beloved son in the wilderness! We just aren't ready. But then, when
are we ever ready for the wilderness? When are we ever ready to face the dark
night of the soul? No, we just aren't ready to be here facing the pain and witnessing
the struggle. We want to turn back the clock or at the very least halt time so that
we can remain forever in the joyous light filled moments in time. But that's not how
life is, is it? Clouds come and hide the sun, storms rage and chill us to the bone, life
happens and we wonder "why did this happen to me?".
I suspect that the same was true for the very human Jesus. For you see, as
each of the gospel writers tells the story, Jesus was still dripping with the waters of
his own baptism, still sensing the power of the dove descending and still hearing
the echoes of that Divine Voice saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am
well pleased," when he found himself led or driven into the wilderness. Wait a
minute, what just happened? What was he doing here, if God was so pleased with
him? Where was the light? What happened to the dove? Why was that love-filled
voice suddenly silent? There was no one to teach in the wilderness. There was no
one to care for in the wilderness. What was he doing here? What was the testing he
had to endure? What was this dark night of the soul all about?
Confusion, bewilderment, fear, loneliness, grief, despair, doubt, pain, these are
the emotions of the wilderness and we know all too well what it's like to find
ourselves there. Whether because of choices we make or unwanted circumstances
life thrusts upon us, the wilderness is an all too human experience, an all too
familiar reality.
Voice 1
I know the wilderness. I've been there too.
I've been there in hours and days of grief.
I've grieved for lives swallowed by death:
some deaths that have only echoed through my life.
with the sound of long-closed doors locking forever;
but also those deaths that have ripped open gashes in my heart and mind,
that have left gaping holes in my life.
I've also known that wilderness of grief over words of love that I was too afraid to
say;
over parts of my self that have died from disuse;
Over dear friends who have drifted
O:\Sermons\sermons 2008\02-10-08 matt 4-1-11.doc Last printed 2/18/2008 12:46:00 PM - 2 -
out of my life and will never be found again.
I've been there in that comfortless desert that echoes with the grief of all people.
No shelter there from the tears.
No shade there from the pain.
No place to hide there from the emptiness inside.
The wilderness is life.
Voice 2
I know the wilderness. I too have been there.
I've been there at times when I've had no hope.
Sometimes it's been personal. Up against a wall of failure,
with no one left to blame and nothing to hide my inadequacy;
or under a landslide of guilt, feeling dirty and twisted and without worth.
Without that fragile hint of hope, life is a wilderness.
But sometimes it's bigger than I am.
Just reading the newspaper can bring on despair for the whole weeping planet.
Hatred and violence breed poverty and injustice,
infecting new generations as the old one passes
decimated into twilight.
Where is the hope when children of starvation compete for headlines
with children of abuse and neglect, where understanding seems rare
and prejudice is the rule.
I've been there in the wilderness,
Where there's no shelter from despair;
Where there's no shade from the glare of guilt;
Where there's no place to hide from ourselves.
The wilderness is the human race.
Voice 3
I know this lonely and desolate wilderness. I've been there.
I've been there because I've built walls around my life to keep others out:
Walls of fear, because I have been hurt;
Walls of aggression, because sometimes I want to hurt back.
I am afraid of people and what they might think of me;
how they might judge. I'd rather judge them first.
I reach out, but it's a fleeting thing, I pull back
before anyone even thinks of rejecting me.
Locked with the prison of this well-defended life,
this well-fortified self,
I know this wilderness where the only sound
is my own voice protesting the emptiness.
The wilderness is me.
O:\Sermons\sermons 2008\02-10-08 matt 4-1-11.doc Last printed 2/18/2008 12:46:00 PM - 3 -
Yes, we know the wilderness and we wonder: is there any light in the
wilderness; any hope in the bareness; any stream to quench our thirsty heart; any
food to feed our starving souls? Barbara Brown Taylor describes Jesus' wilderness
struggle by pointing to the voice of the tempter who "subtly suggested that Jesus
deserved better than God was giving him." As followers of Jesus today, we may
hear a "devilish voice in our heads [that] says things like, 'If you are a child of God,
shouldn't things be going a little smoother for you? If you are really a Christian, I
mean -- shouldn't you be happier, healthier, richer, safer?'"
Now I have read dozens of interpretations preached many sermons about the
temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness. But as I pondered the text this week I
wondered, perhaps the bottom line of Jesus struggle in the wilderness was a
struggle to keep on trusting in what he had experienced and keep on believing that
he was not alone, despite all appearances to the contrary. It was a struggle to trust
the power of God even when that power seemed powerless and rely on presence of
God even when the presence seemed like an absence.
As Jesus struggled to listen deeply to the silent voice of God's speaking, he
heard the dim echoes of the sacred promises and the faint whispers of the faith
history of his people and he had the audacity to hope that the sacred promises were
true and the courage to trust that God was still at work in his life and in the world.
And the angels came to confirm his hope and his courage.
While we might wish that there were no wilderness experiences for Jesus or for
us, there is something about the wilderness that can deepen our faith and temper
our trust -like the way tempering makes steel stronger. In his wilderness
experience, Jesus found trust that would overcome doubt, wisdom that would
empower living, courage that would conquer fear, and love that would change the
world. Through his wilderness experience, Jesus speaks words of promise and hope
to our own:
Voice 4
You have a companion in that wilderness;
someone who wanders there with you.
The grief, the hopelessness, the loneliness, are not yours alone.
Somewhere in that wilderness, there is God.
Somewhere, beyond all hope of shelter,
God is a roof from the storm.
Somehow, beyond all imagining of shade,
God is an overarching tree.
Some way, in the most terrifying moment of silence,
God is a voice that touches you where you ache for touch.
Somewhere, when you've forgotten how to get out of that wilderness,
God will be there, calling you out and leading the way.
I know, because I've been there too.
I've wandered that wilderness with the rest of you,
and at the end of my strength, the angels came and ministered to me.
And God led me out of that wilderness to change the world.
-
Amen.
In the Wilderness
Matthew 4:1-11
February 10, 2008
First Sunday in Lent
Rev. Nancy Pfaltzgraf
It seems like yesterday that we gathered in this very room to sing carols and
celebrate again the birth of the baby who was "wrapped in swaddling clothes and
laid in a manger;" and now here we are on the first Sunday in Lent, preparing to
journey to Jerusalem with the all grown up baby Jesus. Wasn't it just last week that
we stood on a mountaintop of joy and heard again the voice of God saying, "This is
my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!"? And now here we
are with that beloved son in the wilderness! We just aren't ready. But then, when
are we ever ready for the wilderness? When are we ever ready to face the dark
night of the soul? No, we just aren't ready to be here facing the pain and witnessing
the struggle. We want to turn back the clock or at the very least halt time so that
we can remain forever in the joyous light filled moments in time. But that's not how
life is, is it? Clouds come and hide the sun, storms rage and chill us to the bone, life
happens and we wonder "why did this happen to me?".
I suspect that the same was true for the very human Jesus. For you see, as
each of the gospel writers tells the story, Jesus was still dripping with the waters of
his own baptism, still sensing the power of the dove descending and still hearing
the echoes of that Divine Voice saying, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am
well pleased," when he found himself led or driven into the wilderness. Wait a
minute, what just happened? What was he doing here, if God was so pleased with
him? Where was the light? What happened to the dove? Why was that love-filled
voice suddenly silent? There was no one to teach in the wilderness. There was no
one to care for in the wilderness. What was he doing here? What was the testing he
had to endure? What was this dark night of the soul all about?
Confusion, bewilderment, fear, loneliness, grief, despair, doubt, pain, these are
the emotions of the wilderness and we know all too well what it's like to find
ourselves there. Whether because of choices we make or unwanted circumstances
life thrusts upon us, the wilderness is an all too human experience, an all too
familiar reality.
Voice 1
I know the wilderness. I've been there too.
I've been there in hours and days of grief.
I've grieved for lives swallowed by death:
some deaths that have only echoed through my life.
with the sound of long-closed doors locking forever;
but also those deaths that have ripped open gashes in my heart and mind,
that have left gaping holes in my life.
I've also known that wilderness of grief over words of love that I was too afraid to
say;
over parts of my self that have died from disuse;
Over dear friends who have drifted
O:\Sermons\sermons 2008\02-10-08 matt 4-1-11.doc Last printed 2/18/2008 12:46:00 PM - 2 -
out of my life and will never be found again.
I've been there in that comfortless desert that echoes with the grief of all people.
No shelter there from the tears.
No shade there from the pain.
No place to hide there from the emptiness inside.
The wilderness is life.
Voice 2
I know the wilderness. I too have been there.
I've been there at times when I've had no hope.
Sometimes it's been personal. Up against a wall of failure,
with no one left to blame and nothing to hide my inadequacy;
or under a landslide of guilt, feeling dirty and twisted and without worth.
Without that fragile hint of hope, life is a wilderness.
But sometimes it's bigger than I am.
Just reading the newspaper can bring on despair for the whole weeping planet.
Hatred and violence breed poverty and injustice,
infecting new generations as the old one passes
decimated into twilight.
Where is the hope when children of starvation compete for headlines
with children of abuse and neglect, where understanding seems rare
and prejudice is the rule.
I've been there in the wilderness,
Where there's no shelter from despair;
Where there's no shade from the glare of guilt;
Where there's no place to hide from ourselves.
The wilderness is the human race.
Voice 3
I know this lonely and desolate wilderness. I've been there.
I've been there because I've built walls around my life to keep others out:
Walls of fear, because I have been hurt;
Walls of aggression, because sometimes I want to hurt back.
I am afraid of people and what they might think of me;
how they might judge. I'd rather judge them first.
I reach out, but it's a fleeting thing, I pull back
before anyone even thinks of rejecting me.
Locked with the prison of this well-defended life,
this well-fortified self,
I know this wilderness where the only sound
is my own voice protesting the emptiness.
The wilderness is me.
O:\Sermons\sermons 2008\02-10-08 matt 4-1-11.doc Last printed 2/18/2008 12:46:00 PM - 3 -
Yes, we know the wilderness and we wonder: is there any light in the
wilderness; any hope in the bareness; any stream to quench our thirsty heart; any
food to feed our starving souls? Barbara Brown Taylor describes Jesus' wilderness
struggle by pointing to the voice of the tempter who "subtly suggested that Jesus
deserved better than God was giving him." As followers of Jesus today, we may
hear a "devilish voice in our heads [that] says things like, 'If you are a child of God,
shouldn't things be going a little smoother for you? If you are really a Christian, I
mean -- shouldn't you be happier, healthier, richer, safer?'"
Now I have read dozens of interpretations preached many sermons about the
temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness. But as I pondered the text this week I
wondered, perhaps the bottom line of Jesus struggle in the wilderness was a
struggle to keep on trusting in what he had experienced and keep on believing that
he was not alone, despite all appearances to the contrary. It was a struggle to trust
the power of God even when that power seemed powerless and rely on presence of
God even when the presence seemed like an absence.
As Jesus struggled to listen deeply to the silent voice of God's speaking, he
heard the dim echoes of the sacred promises and the faint whispers of the faith
history of his people and he had the audacity to hope that the sacred promises were
true and the courage to trust that God was still at work in his life and in the world.
And the angels came to confirm his hope and his courage.
While we might wish that there were no wilderness experiences for Jesus or for
us, there is something about the wilderness that can deepen our faith and temper
our trust -like the way tempering makes steel stronger. In his wilderness
experience, Jesus found trust that would overcome doubt, wisdom that would
empower living, courage that would conquer fear, and love that would change the
world. Through his wilderness experience, Jesus speaks words of promise and hope
to our own:
Voice 4
You have a companion in that wilderness;
someone who wanders there with you.
The grief, the hopelessness, the loneliness, are not yours alone.
Somewhere in that wilderness, there is God.
Somewhere, beyond all hope of shelter,
God is a roof from the storm.
Somehow, beyond all imagining of shade,
God is an overarching tree.
Some way, in the most terrifying moment of silence,
God is a voice that touches you where you ache for touch.
Somewhere, when you've forgotten how to get out of that wilderness,
God will be there, calling you out and leading the way.
I know, because I've been there too.
I've wandered that wilderness with the rest of you,
and at the end of my strength, the angels came and ministered to me.
And God led me out of that wilderness to change the world.
-
Amen.
