1

Sermon on Isaiah 55:1-9

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

We’re in a solemn season. Our readings talk about returning to God,

testing and not falling, repenting and perishing, and cutting down trees

that aren’t bearing fruit.

During Lent, we talk about repentance and sacrifice and discipline in our

readings, our liturgy, and our music.

Lent invites us to repent, but what does that actually mean?

The word “repent” can evoke images of people with megaphones and

judgmental signs shouting, “Repent or else!” or red-faced preachers

spouting warnings about fire and brimstone.

What it actually means in Greek is to change your mind. The mind was

where people in the ancient Near East located our essence, so for us, it

might be better phrased as a change of heart. It’s not just an intellectual

shift, but a spirit shift, a shift of our whole being.

Lent gives us permission to slow down enough to pay attention to what

our lives are oriented toward. As Stephen Covey said, “It doesn’t really

matter how fast you’re going if you’re heading in the wrong direction.”

Lent helps us ask ourselves if we’re focusing on what the world tells us

success looks like even though it’s making us miserable.

Or if we’re trying to buy the next thing that will make us happy.

Or if we’re burning ourselves out trying to be what everyone around us

wants us to be instead of listening to God’s still, small voice within us

that says, “You’re enough.”

Or if we’re buying into the binaries that say you’re either this or that,

good or bad, pure or dirty, whole or broken, instead of allowing

ourselves to be complex human beings who are both/and—both saints

and sinners, both generous and selfish, both broken and beloved.

Lent invites us to turn the ship of our lives around, however slowly, and

orient ourselves toward what really satisfies.

Lent invites us to imagine with God what the Beloved Community looks

like and what our part is in creating it here and now.

That’s what our reading from Isaiah is about.

God’s people were in exile in Babylon—they had been for decades. It

seemed like God had broken God’s promises to them or that they must

have behaved so wickedly that this was God’s judgment on them. Our

human minds make all kinds of meaning out of tragedy, disaster, and

hardship. But what our minds tell us isn’t always true.

In this part of Isaiah, God doesn’t scold them for wrong-doing, but

instead reminds them of God’s promises. This part of Isaiah is about

God preparing them to return from exile. God was inviting them to

change their minds, change their hearts. They could turn away from

what their minds were telling them and turn toward the truths God was

telling them. God was inviting them to imagine the good things the

future could hold for them.

Yes, they were in exile, and God reminded them of the promises made to

David—an “everlasting covenant”—one that exile would not break.

God’s love for David and for God’s people does not end—ever.

So, through the prophet Isaiah, God invited them to orient themselves

toward God, to stop spending their energy pursuing things that don’t

satisfy.

God would provide abundantly for them as they prepared to return home

from exile: bread, wine, milk, refreshing waters, rich food. It was a new

exodus—God liberating God’s people from a foreign, dominating

power.

Our Gospel reading from a few weeks ago told the story of the

Transfiguration, where Jesus was talking to Moses and Elijah about his

upcoming exodus—his death and resurrection that would liberate us all

from sin and death.

That’s what Lent is leading us toward. We’re invited to experience a

change of heart as we journey with Jesus into this new exodus. It’s a

reiteration of the liberation we find in God.

God liberated God’s people from enslavement in Egypt.

God liberated God’s people from exile in Babylon.

God liberated the world from sin and death in the cross and resurrection.

God is inviting us all to a change of heart that creates the Beloved

Community here and now.

Every time a hungry person is fed, every time a lonely person is

embraced, every time an unjust law is undone, every time a home is

opened to someone who needs shelter, the Beloved Community gets

bigger and more real.

Our hearts stretch. Our imaginations open. We see things differently.

Our lives change. Our world changes.

Lent isn’t about punishing ourselves or earning spiritual brownie points

or putting on a show of being as miserable as possible.

Lent is about repentance, and repentance is about having a change of

heart, making sure our hearts are oriented toward God and our

neighbors.

That’s where the Beloved Community takes root. That’s where we

recognize God’s liberation and abundance and can enjoy it along with all

of God’s beloved children.

Imagine that.

And receive this “Blessing for Stretching Your Heart” from Kate

Bowler:

God, my life has too many things

Awful. Lovely. Full.

Shockingly incomplete.

Will you help me learn to live

with a greater capacity for this?

Living in the tension between a

life that has worked out…

and one that has gone to hell in

every hand basket.

Let today be a divine exercise of

yes…and.

Yes, I have so much

to be thankful for,

and this hasn’t turned out

like I thought it would.

Yes, I feel moments of joy,

and I have lost more than

could live without.

Yes, I want to

make the most of today,

and my body keeps breaking.

Yes, I am hopeful,

and this is daunting.

Yes, I am trying to be brave,

and I feel so afraid.

So bless me,

trying to live in between those

two words:

yes…and.

May I understand this is where

the real work of life is found.

Where it takes courage to live.

Where grief can strip me

to the studs

and love can remake me

once again.

Where my heart

can be both broken

and keep on beating.

Never sorry to have broken at all.

Yes…and.

Make me capable of great joy,

great love,

great risk,

even fear,

as you expand my heart

with this yes…and today.

Sermon on Luke 4:1-13

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

The Executive Skills for Church Leaders conference I attended in January took place at Spirit in the Desert retreat center outside Phoenix, Arizona. One of our leaders, Desta Goehner, pointed out the minimalism of the desert landscape.

Granted, it was a highly curated desert landscape with a labyrinth and walking paths and sculptures, but we were still warned of the wildlife we could encounter, and I still wouldn’t want to get too up close and personal with the spines of those cacti.

The idea of the minimalism of the desert got me thinking about what we encounter when we strip away the excess.

What remains when we’re away from the distractions of various media, the responsibilities of daily life, the routine that keeps us moving forward without having to ponder what’s next?

There was a psychological study about ten years ago where participants were left alone for 15 minutes with a button they could shock themselves with if they chose. Even though all the participants had said they would pay money not to be shocked, over the course of the 15 minutes, 67% of men and 25% of women chose to shock themselves at least once.

It seems that we’re pretty uncomfortable sitting with our own thoughts to the point where physical pain is sometimes preferable (though in my own unqualified opinion, I wonder if human curiosity might be to blame for some of the shocks).

But we all have the anecdotal evidence of seeing many people, myself included, pulling out their phones in the grocery store line, listening to music or podcasts while running errands, and a lot of other methods to prevent silent down time with our thoughts.

The minimalism of the desert or the minimalism of a metaphorical wilderness can be uncomfortable, even painful.

We can experience a metaphorical wilderness when we’re alone with our thoughts, which may be why we try so hard to avoid that.

We can also be thrown into a metaphorical wilderness by life circumstances: a change in our health, the ending of a relationship, a shift in our work, finances, friendships, or living situation.

Suddenly what was normal is taken away and we have to reckon with difficult emotions like grief, anger, shame, or fear or a mixture of any number of them.

We all go through wilderness times in our lives—sometimes by circumstances beyond our control, sometimes on purpose because we want time and space to ponder apart from distractions.

Lent can be a season for intentional wilderness time. We can use Lenten disciplines to help us reflect—to give up distractions or take on a practice of contemplation.

Whether you’re in a wilderness time right now on purpose or by circumstance, Jesus has been there.

Before our story today, Jesus had just been baptized and was grounded in his identity as God’s Beloved.

But then he was led into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit’s prompting. Far from a conference at a manicured desert retreat center, his stay in the wilderness was one of deprivation and hunger.

We see examples of him going away to pray, sometimes with his disciples and sometimes alone. But this was the longest wilderness time.

After 40 days of no food, he was faced with the temptations that tend to cause us humans to compromise our values and allegiances. We tend to cave for our basic needs, for power, and for our reputation.

But Jesus turned control back over to God each time he quoted scripture to the tempter. He brought everything back to the Law, which asks God’s people to trust God above all else.

Jesus trusted God to provide for his needs. Jesus trusted God that he would be given the power he needed to accomplish his mission instead of seeking glory for himself. And Jesus trusted his identity as Beloved and didn’t need to prove it to himself or anyone else by testing God’s love for him.

He rejected self-sufficiency and worldly power in favor of depending on God and building an interdependent Beloved Community from the ground up.

He faced what we face. He endured his wilderness. He knows what it’s like to hunger and to want things and to want to fix things by one’s own power.

We won’t always make the right choices when it comes to these things. That’s why we need Jesus.

But when that happens, he doesn’t look at us with disappointment or condemnation. Instead, he pulls us in, lets us rest our head on his shoulder, and says, “I understand. I know it’s hard. I’ve been there. I love you anyway, just as you are. We’re going to get through this together.”

No matter what wilderness we journey through—whether the season of Lent, an intentional practice of reflection, or life circumstances we would rather trade in, thank you very much—Jesus is right next to you through all of it. He knows what you’re going through and will never leave you.

There was a pop song by Rachel Platten that came out a number of years ago called “Stand by You,” and even though it’s not a religious song, it always makes me think of Jesus staying with us in the worst circumstances of our lives and offering us strength. Here are a few of the lyrics:

“Hands put your empty hands in mine
And scars show me all the scars you hide
And hey, if your wings are broken
Please take mine 'til yours can open too
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you

'Cause I'm gonna stand by you
Even if we're breaking down
We can find a way to break through
Even if we can't find heaven
I'll walk through hell with you
Love, you're not alone
'Cause I'm gonna stand by you”

Jesus had literal and figurative wildernesses throughout his life. He knows what it’s like. He’s not scared away by anything we experience.

He’ll walk through hell with you, and we can stand with each other through every wilderness of this life.

Love, you’re not alone. We’re going to stand by you.

Sermon on Luke 9:28-43a

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

I always resonate a lot with the disciples’ confusion at Jesus’ Transfiguration. Peter, James, and John followed Jesus up a mountain to spend time in prayer. By the time they got up there, they were tired from their hike. Then, they were roused by the sight of Jesus’ face and clothes changing—the Gospel of Luke says it was like lightning!

As the disciples blinked their eyes, trying to figure out what was going on, they saw Moses and Elijah chatting with Jesus. Their minds barely had a chance to catch up with the conversation when the prophets were leaving. Peter blurted out that they should set up sacred places to commemorate the moment, which was apparently not the right suggestion, because then a cloud rushed in, and a divine voice told them to just listen to Jesus already!

That’s a lot! And as much as 2,000 years have gone by and plenty of people have studied the Transfiguration, I still don’t feel like I get it much more than the disciples did.

But here are a few things that help me try to make sense of the Transfiguration:

First, Jesus has just started predicting his death and resurrection, which is what the first line of our reading refers to when it says, “eight days after these sayings.” Peter named Jesus as the Messiah, and now that his disciples recognized him as more than just a rabbi, Jesus started preparing them for what was to come, and the news was tough.The Transfiguration reassured them that God was powerful and active in the world.

Second, the divine voice says almost the exact same thing as it said at Jesus’ baptism. His baptism grounded Jesus in his ministry throughout the first half of the Gospel of Luke, and his Transfiguration grounded him in his mission through the second half—to the cross and beyond.

Third, Moses and Elijah were talking with Jesus about his “exodus.” It’ll sometimes be translated as “departure,” but the word “exodus” gives us a glimpse into Jesus’ mission. Just as God liberated the Israelites from Egypt, Jesus liberated us from sin and death in his death and resurrection.

And fourth, when we look at this story through the lens of liberation, we can see that the exorcism story that follows is a microcosm of the healing Jesus brings the world:

1.    Jesus came down from the mountain to where people were hurting, just as God became human with a humble beginning in a difficult time when a lot of people were hurting.

2.    When people couldn’t fix things on their own, Jesus came and “healed the boy, and gave him back to his father,” just as Jesus came to heal us and reconcile us with God.

In the Transfiguration, Jesus showed us his divinity but immediately came down the mountain to free us from what’s holding us captive.

What’s holding us captive today?

What’s distracting us from God?

What’s cutting us off from our neighbors?

What are our idols today?

It can seem strange to us when we read Bible stories about people worshiping idols. We can think that doesn’t apply to us because we don’t bow down before statues, but there are plenty of idols today.

One is money. It’s easy to become consumed by acquiring more and more stuff. It’s easy to trust our money to get us out of difficult situations instead of trusting God. It’s easy to enjoy the dopamine rush of buying something new instead of seeking what truly satisfies.

Another idol is comfort. Our drive for comfort can cause us to compromise our morals to keep us feeling secure. It can keep us from taking action for the sake of our neighbors because it would inconvenience us or might even put our safety at risk.

A deeply entrenched idol in our society is individualism. It’s not a bad thing to work hard or be proud of what we accomplish, but if we buy into the illusion that we can truly be self-made individuals who pull ourselves up by our bootstraps (a metaphor that’s literally impossible), we can forget that we’re dependent on God and interconnected with our neighbors.

Another idol is tribalism. Human brains like to categorize people. It’s something that kept us safe when we were identifying friends who could help us survive and threats like lions and tigers and bears (oh my!), but it can lure us into us/them thinking. We can become suspicious of others, mistrusting people of a different race, class, political party, or even who root for a different sports team. At its worst, it even causes us to dehumanize other people, which can fuel violence. We can see the consequences of that throughout history.

These and other idols can hold us captive.

As we prepare for Lent, which starts this Wednesday, what can we ask God for liberation from?

Maybe instead of giving up chocolate for Lent, maybe we can spend time praying for someone it feels hard to pray for as we grapple with the idol of tribalism.

Or we can write thank you notes to remind us of the people who have helped us become the person we are as we reckon with the idol of individualism.

Or we can challenge ourselves to get out of our idolized comfort zone for the sake of our neighbor—calling out a sexist, racist, or transphobicjoke, introducing ourselves to someone who lives by us, or calling your political representatives about an issue you care about. (Can you tell I’m an introvert when all my examples involve talking to people?)

Or if you do feel called to give up chocolate or the like, can you calculate how much you would have spent on that during the forty days of Lent and donate that to Lutheran Disaster Response or Global Refuge (formerly Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Service—we’ll be having someone talk to us about their organization in a couple weeks) or of course the Caring Hands pantry?

If you choose to do a Lenten discipline this year, can it help you loosen your grasp on an idol in your life and cling more to God?

And of course, it is God alone who truly frees us. We can practice behaviors that turn our attention to God, but it is God who liberates us.

Transfiguration isn’t about looking down on the disciples who didn’t really get it—I certainly can’t judge, because I still find it perplexing myself.

One thing the Transfiguration is about is reminding us that Jesus is God. Jesus is fully human, so he can fully empathize with our human struggles, and he is fully divine—he’s powerful and good.

And the Gospel of Luke’s version of the Transfiguration story reminds us that Jesus, awe-inspiring as he is, didn’t stay on the mountain with the prophets and the cloud and the divine voice. He came back down to where his people were and brought them healing and liberation.

This story reveals who Jesus is:the long-awaited Messiah, who the prophets like Elijah and Moses paved the way for.

This is the beginning of the second half of his ministry, which leads to the cross and the resurrection. This is the beginning of Jesus setting us free from sin—like the idols that distract us from loving God and our neighbor—and liberating us from death, which cannot keep us from being held in God’s arms forever.

God liberates us regardless of whether we take on a Lenten discipline. There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any more or any less. If you decide to experiment with one this year, great! If you’ve done one faithfully for decades, great! If it’s one too many things to worry about this year, great! If it’s helpful, go for it! If not, rest in God’s love for you. It’s enough.

Jesus sets all of us free, and full of that love, we’re able to love God and our neighbors and participate in God’s Beloved Community here on earth.

We, along with the crowds in our story, can be “astounded at the greatness of God.”