“Newness”

Isaiah 43:16-21

Introduction

For this season of Lent the theme “Cultivate and Let Go” has been a guiding perspective and focus for these days of wilderness wandering. The first three Sundays we have delved into the concepts of cultivating, temptations, and fall, each presenting questions for us to consider, questions meant to hold up the mirror, look at and within ourselves, and find in us— honestly find in us— answers to those questions that are likely answers we don’t want to face and remind ourselves of again because we work really hard, and spend an enormous amount of energy to forget them, hold them at bay, hide them from ourselves, others, and even God.

All of the questions and the imploration to honestly face them are intended to be a proactive, intentional effort within these days of wilderness wandering so that all of it takes us somewhere; so it challenges us to become a better and more faithful version of ourselves; so that by Easter morning, we are not just celebrating a resurrection, we are not just giving praise that we have been redeemed, and we are not just rejoicing that Jesus is our risen Lord and Savior.

Lent, the guiding perspectives and focuses, all the questions are taking us to Easter, yes, but they are taking us even further. They are taking us to the new thing God is doing—and has always been doing.

Cultivating… Letting Go… facing temptations and seeing them as opportunities to learn and grow and become don’t begin on Ash Wednesday and end on Easter morning. They are all part of a way of life and faith that sets us up for our role within the new thing God is doing and has always been doing. But do we perceive it? Do we know the depth to which it all goes? Do we really believe Lent is just a season?

We may want to believe such because it makes its calls—even its demands—easier. Just gotta get to Easter morning and I can once again…indulge. Get to Easter, shout ‘He is risen, risen indeed’, and then we get go eat ham, hunt for eggs, and dive back into life as it was before. But is that what Lent is—a speed bump to slow us down for a minute before we hit the gas again?

Lent is never about not indulging. It’s never about a singular set of 40 days. It’s never about just getting through Good Friday and to the empty tomb. Lent is not even just about cultivating and letting go. Lent is about the new thing God has always been doing, the new thing God is doing, and the new thing God will do…and how we are a part of it all. But do we perceive the newness of things? Do we perceive the newness God is calling us to? Do we perceive the newness that can be? Dare I even ask… Do we even want to?

Move 1

Lent… our wilderness wandering is supposed to change us, get us ready, prepare us, equip us for a newness of life in the one who brought Good News. But that Good News, that newness, wasn’t only solidified through Jesus’ arrest, trial, crucifixion, death, and resurrection.

The Good News, the newness he brought didn’t even just happen through his three years of ministry. It happened within all of it for sure, but was happening even before. The newness happened when Jesus chose 12 of the most unlikely people to follow him, and surrounded himself with countless other unlikely people. The newness happened when John proclaimed, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” It happened when a scared couple, pregnancy coming to term, found no room in the inn. It happened when dirty, poor shepherds were brought “glad tidings of great joy.” It happened when Mary was told she would bear a son, when Joseph was told not to be afraid to take Mary as his wife. It happened when the prophets spoke of a coming day when a child shall lead them. It happened when the least likely of sons from the stump of Jesse was called to be king.

All of the newness was a process. All of it for an intended purpose. To change not just the world, but to change everything—past, present, and future—to bring meaning and understanding to what had been; to instill focus on what is right now; and to cast a vision of hope and becoming for the future. All of it to bring forth a newness of life God wanted for all God’s children—a newness possible only through grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love.

And each person along the way—all of them—were part of the process for that purpose. Each of them called, changed, made ready, prepared, and equipped to be part of the “new thing” that was springing forth. Some perceived it. Some did not. And when those who did perceive it perceived it, their role within it all began to be cultivated and grow. And as it grew, they saw the need for, and were able to let go of, that which hindered and prohibited the growth so the “new thing” would be further brought into being.

But do we perceive it? Do we even want to?

Move 2

Clearly, the prophet Isaiah wants us to perceive it, telling us God said, “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” And then, to make sure no one misses the point, Isaiah tells of God’s poetic vision: “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” (43:18-19).

A road through the wilderness? Rivers coursing through the desert? Now that would be something to perceive. Those verses were first addressed to God’s people exiled in Babylon— a people mired in spirit and despairing for a way out. They’ve already been there for more than a generation; the youngest having no memory of home, other than wistful tales told by their sad-eyed parents. Babylon is home, now, to many of them. Newness is a rapidly dispersing dream.

Responding to their despair, Isaiah weaves a powerful poetic vision where the exiles march triumphantly home along a broad new wilderness road, pausing now and again to slake their thirst from clear-flowing rivers— and they will know who cares for them, provides for them, and declares they are captives no more.

Isaiah’s vision encouraged those stuck in exile—lost, broken, despairing and hopeless—that God’s new thing was coming, giving them a glimpse of the hope filled future. This is the same vision Isaiah casts for us, which implores us to consider what could happen if we perceived this newness. What might it do in us?

Move 3

In a German POW camp during World War II, unbeknownst to the guards, the prisoners had managed to scrape together enough electronic components to build a makeshift radio. They kept it tuned to the BBC.

One day, news came over the radio that the German high command had surrendered. The war was over, although word had not yet filtered back to the camp’s guards. But because of the news—this very good news—the prisoners changed. No longer were they down trodden, oppressed, sullen and so forth. Instead, they sang, they waved at the guards and smiled, they laughed at the German shepherd dogs, they shared jokes over meals of watery soup and stale bread. To the guards, it was all incomprehensible.

Four days after the news broadcast, the prisoners awoke to discover their captors had fled, leaving the gates of the camp wide open. At long last, their captivity had come to an end. Their life had been different during the past few days than it had been in all the preceding years. The difference, of course, was the news they heard, of something sure to happen in the future. That future promise made all the difference. They perceived—they saw what was surely coming—and it changed them from broken and captive prisoners into joy and hope filled people who knew their release, their freedom, their new and renewed life was surely coming.

Conclusion

Lent may be a season of forty days plus Sundays, but the wilderness wandering, the times of sacrifice, the facing of adversity and challenges—it all took a bit longer than forty days, and it involved countless people across generations.

Lent doesn’t just happen. We don’t just go through Lent, Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday so we can just get to that great and glorious day of Easter where we find the stone has been rolled away, shout “He is risen, risen indeed”, then go eat ham and hunt for eggs. Lent is bigger because it is a reminder of not just a singular wilderness wandering, but of all the wilderness wanderings. Lent is a time of call, change, readiness, preparation, and being equipped for our part in something far bigger, far more important, something that has been, and is still unfolding. And we have a part within it all.

So may we perceive the newness God is doing. May we perceive the Good News God is calling us to share. May we perceive that we too have a future promise. It’s the promise of our faith, the promise that God isn’t finished yet, the promise that one day all that is now indistinct will be made clear.

But we have to perceive it— and know deep in our souls that God’s newness is indeed coming. For when we perceive and embrace the truth of this promise we are finally able to get up from the place where we so frequently feel lost, broken, despairing, and hopeless— and move toward all of God’s newness. Amen.

Pastoral Prayer

God of new life, in this season of Lent we make our way through the wilderness, to the cross, and to the empty tomb. So often we call it a journey—a journey of faith, of spirit, of drawing closer to your son our savior so that we deepen our spirits within yours. And for certain, as we make our way through this season, as we come into Jerusalem, as we gather at the Last Supper, face the terror of the crucifixion, and rejoice in sight of the empty tomb we do deepen our spirits within yours, and find again the newness of life you promise. Through it all we are reminded we are no longer bound by the chains that fettered us to sin. All of it brings boundless joy.

But there is more to all you have done and are doing than can be encapsulated into a season of a few weeks. For generations upon generations you have been at work to bring forth redemption and newness of life—and that many have had a role within that good work.

And we are happy to be part of it all—we want to be part of it all, we want to perceive it all again and again. We want to embrace the role you are calling us to do within that good work.

But we have to admit our perception of your work wains when the season ends. Though we deepened our spirits within yours, we let old ways push away the newness, and soon what we perceive is only that which holds us captive and keeps us lost.

So help us to perceive the newness within each day. Dare us to perceive the work you are doing, and our role within it. Remind us, with your still small voice, that the season is now, and it is always. And it is the season of new life coming again and again…and always.

Hear now the prayers of our hearts as we lift them to your heart in this time of Holy Silence.

All this we pray in the name of the one who assures your newness is always coming, Jesus the Christ, who taught us to pray, saying, “Our…”