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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.