#lentendevotion

#LentenDevotional

It is easy for us to think about the exodus in terms of its impact on the ancient Israelites. In the desert, God revealed his intimate presence to them through fire, cloud, and the thunder of His voice. His awesome miracles-water gushing out of rock, bread and meat from heaven, deliverance from enemies- testified to His love and protection over his beloved people. Of course, God wanted them to remember all that he had done and to obey all of his words.

#Lent

#LentenDevotion

Anyone who has hiked the rugged mountains of the Judea Wilderness will likely ask, "Why did the way for God have to be prepared IN THE DESERT, especially this one?" Throughout history this wilderness has remained virtually uninhabited. Its rough, steep terrain and lack of water make it unsuitable for good travel routes. Its summer heat frequently exceeds 120 degrees Fahrenheit, hot winds often dry out any remaining moisture, and chilling temperatures set in soon after sunset.

Wouldn't it have been easier for God's way to be prepared in the fertile countryside near the Sea of Galilee or the well-watered hillsides near Jerusalem? Why did God choose the desert as the place for his people to prepare for his Glory to be revealed? Why did he choose a place where simply surviving is so hard?

Again, part of the answer can be found in the Hebrew Bible. In the exodus story, God worked through his prophet Moses to miraculously bring the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt, deliver them from Pharaoh's army at the Red Sea, and lead them into the "vast and dreadful desert"(Deuteronomy 8:15) where he met with them and lived among them for forty years. In the desert, they learned to depend on God and live by his every word. Isolated from the influence of Egyptian and Canaanite cultures, the Israelites became a unified people whom God molded and shaped to be a kingdom of priests who would display His character to the world.

The Lord is my light and my salvation

Passage: Psalm 27

1 The Lord is my light and my salvation—    whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—    of whom shall I be afraid? 2 When the wicked advance against me    to devour[a] me, it is my enemies and my foes    who will stumble and fall. 3 Though an army besiege me,    my heart will not fear; though war break out against me,    even then I will be confident. 4 One thing I ask from the Lord,    this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord    all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord    and to seek him in his temple. 5 For in the day of trouble    he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent    and set me high upon a rock. 6 Then my head will be exalted    above the enemies who surround me; at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;    I will sing and make music to the Lord. 7 Hear my voice when I call, Lord;    be merciful to me and answer me. 8 My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”    Your face, Lord, I will seek. 9 Do not hide your face from me,    do not turn your servant away in anger;    you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me,    God my Savior. 10 Though my father and mother forsake me,    the Lord will receive me. 11 Teach me your way, Lord;    lead me in a straight path    because of my oppressors. 12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,    for false witnesses rise up against me,    spouting malicious accusations. 13 I remain confident of this:    I will see the goodness of the Lord    in the land of the living. 14 Wait for the Lord;    be strong and take heart    and wait for the Lord.

Reflection

When I was a young child, the story goes, I used to always ask, “What are we going to do next?” It seems that I was always concerned with what we were going to do rather than what we were doing. The common response my grandmother always gave me was, “Can't you just be happy and enjoy what you're doing right now?” No. That was my short answer. The long answer probably would have been something along the lines of, “I want to know what is going to happen so that I can fully prepare for whatever needs or adjustments that must be made in order to make said event or activity happen.” But a five-year-old doesn't usually articulate in that manner.

One of the psalms appointed for today - Holy Saturday - is Psalm 27. The Latin title, Dominus illuminatio mea, translates to “The Lord is my light” and is notably the motto for the Oxford University. The Psalmist writes of facing troubles and adversity yet remains steadfast in trusting that God will provide, protect and sustain. There is a yearning in this particular psalm that asks for - sometimes pleads for - God's presence: “One thing have I asked, hearken to my voice, hide not your face, do not forsake me … show me your way.” This is not a psalm of lamentation or a psalm of praise - this is a psalm of yearning and pleading. Yet, despite the urgency with which the psalmist calls upon God, s/he ends with these powerful words: “O tarry and await the Lord's pleasure … wait patiently for the Lord.”

In a culture whose experience of waiting is measured in download speeds and standing in line for the latest iPhone or double soy latte, I'm afraid we've made prayer a when/then equation: “When I ask for this then it will happen.” So what happens if it doesn't happen? Is God not listening? Did we not ask the right way? Have we reduced God to the figurative genie in a bottle?

I have had my share of anxiety and wondering in my short life. As a child I lived with an emotionally abusive step-parent who led me to question my very existence from an age when a child should not have to deal with those kinds of thoughts. As an adult I have had my share of wanderings and wonderings about life, love and faith. A turning point for me happened a few years ago while I was struggling with some rather heavy stuff and I confided to a close friend that I recently asked God, “Should I do…?” He said to me, “Ask God “How do I…?” and see what happens.” It turns out that, in my fervent and pleading prayers, I was praying to a genie of sorts, not to God.

Good Friday Reflection

A number of years ago I worked a 4 PM to midnight shift in a little shop on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Mostly I commuted by bus to Warwick through the Port Authority Bus Terminal at 42nd and 8th. The homeless were ubiquitous at the hours I traveled. There was one spot on 8th where the doors of the terminal were recessed and permanently closed. The space offered some protection from the elements and in the good weather was always filled as if it were a front porch.

One afternoon leaving the terminal, something caught my eye. I stopped and looked into the space. A group of homeless people sat propped up in a line. A young man was kneeling in front of one of the people. A towel was draped over his shoulder and a bucket was on the ground next to him. I stood and watched as the young man went from person to person washing their feet, drying them, and putting clean socks on their feet. There was an aura about the young man. I really do mean that he glowed. I realized that God was there.

Over the past 30 years I have thought about what I saw. The experience changed me. Whatever belief in God that I have comes from what I saw that afternoon. I came to believe that “God so loved the world, that She gave her only Child.” And that She has given us Her Child in many times and places in many guises. I believe God walks among us. And that we just don't notice.

I don't know why I had the opportunity to see God and I know I haven't lived up to the experience. But it has been a source of great comfort to me that God keeps on trying to get us to notice Her.