God is Here (Psalm 139:7-14)

 When I was 11 years old, I bridged from Cub Scouts into Boy Scouts; and the boy scout troop I joined was a backpacking troop. 

While other boy scout troops went car camping, with heavy, wooden patrol boxes to store all their cooking gear, which they placed on picnic tables or the tailgates of pickup trucks, we carried everything we needed on our backs and headed several miles into wilderness places where there were no picnic tables, no pickup trucks, no tailgates, no roads… just nature. And there, away from civilization, we pitched our tents and spent the night, before hiking back out the next day.

My very first backpacking trip, it rained.

My second backpacking trip, it rained.

The older scouts started to blame me. They said, “Everytime Danny goes on a trip, it rains.”

On the plus side, everytime we went on a backpacking trip where it rained at least a half inch, we earned a patch: the “Puddle Duck” patch. 

On that second trip, we were up about 8,000 feet in elevation, near Mt. Pinos—a remote place where California Condors roam—and for whatever reason, I was in a tent by myself, a cheap tube tent that was open at the ends, and I was trying to shift around to avoid the water that was coming in during the night. It was dark; I couldn’t see anything outside my tent. 

And I felt alone. More alone than I had ever felt up to that point in my life.

The other tents weren’t actually that far away. At least, they didn’t seem that far away when we set them up before sunset, while we could still see.

But in the dark, they may as well have been on the other side of the mountain. It really felt like it was just me, alone in the wilderness, getting wet from the rain.

Many years ago, when I was counseling church camp, I had a camper named James Bishop. Then James became an adult and we counseled together.

A few years back, James hiked 1,500 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail by himself. It took him 5 months. 

I asked him once, when we were counseling together: “What was it like, at night, in those remote places, in your tent by yourself?” 

He said: “I’m not gonna lie; there were times when the sense of being completely alone was overwhelming.”

James is a musician, and strapped to the back of his backpack was his guitar. He wrote songs as he journeyed through the wilderness, and recorded some of the nature sounds he encountered, and he turned those nature sounds into a musical album. For that, he was interviewed on NPR’s All Things Considered; and I listened to some of his music while I wrote this sermon…

Anyway, I was laying alone in my tube tent, trying to stay dry, for what felt like hours… although actually it was probably much less than that. Maybe 15 minutes. 

Then I heard our leader come to my tent, and tell me that I should move into a different tent with another scout, because that was a better tent that would maybe keep me drier.

It did, sort of… but my new tentmate and I still needed to shift around awkwardly to avoid some water coming into that tent. 

We made it through the night. With morning came sunshine, and we left our campsite, and hiked our way back down to civilization.

A few months later, when the troop began planning a summer backpacking trip in the Sierras, one that would last a whole week, they asked if I wanted to go, and I said: Sure!

And yes, it rained… almost every day.

********

Every spring, I preach on the themes and scriptures from the curriculum we use for summer camp at Walter Scott Camp & Learning Center, the camp that we at First Christian Church, along with the other Disciples congregations in our region, own and operate.

This year, the camp curriculum theme is “Into the Wilderness.”

The wilderness can be a lonely place. It is a place of isolation. A scary place. A place where you will be challenged. A place where you will be put to the test.

It is certainly an unfamiliar place. You don’t have any of the comforts of home. In the wilderness, you are quite literally outside your comfort zone.

So why did I keep going back? All these years later, I’m not really sure of the answer to that. As a child I was not a risk-taker or a daredevil or even an adventurer. I was a quiet, shy, nerdy kid who was usually second-to-last when teams were picked on the playground.

(Hey at least I wasn’t last.)

But even though I couldn’t throw a football or hit a softball, I could hike. Hiking is just walking, and walking is just taking a step, and another step, and another step. 

I could do that.

And I felt something calling me to go to those wilderness places, those places away from civilization, those places that still exist pretty much the way God made them.

And over the years, those are places where I have felt extra-close to God.

Which is ironic, I know; because that dark night in the tent, by myself, in the rain, I didn’t feel close to anyone.

Yet, as today’s psalm reminds us, “If I say, Surely the darkness covers me, and night wraps itself around me, even the darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to God.”

Even when I am feeling completely alone, in the dark, I’m not truly alone, for God is there with me.

Now, a wilderness doesn’t have to be miles and miles from the nearest road. Anywhere can be a wilderness. [This] cover of the camp curriculum has an image that features mountains and trees… but also big city skyscrapers.

Spiritually speaking, “wilderness” is a state of mind.

Many of the campers who go to church camp feel like they’re in the wilderness.

For some, it’s because of the unfamiliar surroundings; the cabins; the woods; and all the sounds of nature that many of them are so not used to.

For others, it’s because they’ve never spent this amount of time away from home before. The unfamiliar setting and unfamiliar routines can be intimidating.

And for some, it’s getting used to living with people you’ve just met. Maybe at home, you have a bedroom all to yourself, but here, you are sharing a room and a bathroom with a whole group of people.

Yes, our cabins keep you warm and dry—and even have air conditioning for when things get too warm—but they are still unfamiliar.

At camp, there are other challenges to face.

As a camp director, I try to do everything I can to lessen the anxieties of those coming to camp—especially first-time campers.

But at the same time, I also try to plan some real wilderness challenges for the week. Challenges that are both physical and mental. Things like going for hikes, or completing an obstacle course… or speaking out-loud in front of the whole camp during worship… 

To be honest, I’m always amazed at the leadership our campers provide at camp, in worship, and throughout the week.

There’s just something about spending time in the wilderness that makes you realize that you can do what you didn’t think you could do. Some of the greatest opportunities for growth appear when we find ourselves challenged in the wilderness.

*******

One of my favorite wilderness stories in scripture, one you’ve probably heard me talk about before, is the story of Elijah, the prophet of God, who heads out to the wilderness to meet God. He’s out there standing on Mount Horeb, and there’s a violent windstorm, and he wonders if God is in that windstorm, but nope; God is not in the windstorm.

And then there is a great earthquake, and he wonders if maybe God is in the earthquake, but nope; God is not in the earthquake.

And then there is a fire. Fire can be a sign of God’s presence; just ask Moses. Elijah wonders if God is present in the fire he sees, but nope; God is not in the fire.

So where is God?

After the fire, there is silence…

In the wilderness, I have experienced wind, rain, lightning; and I have experienced silence.

I remember one time, hiking over a mountain pass in the Sierras, probably about 12,000 feet in elevation, there were few trees, just rocks and sand; and no wind; and it was sooo quiet. I felt like something was wrong with my ears. I cleared my throat, and shuffled my foot on the gravel, just so I could hear something, and be sure my ears were working.

And then I was startled by the sounds I had just made, because they seemed so loud compared to the silence.

There aren’t many places in the world today that get that quiet.

The night I spent in the tent, by myself, during the rainstorm was a different kind of quiet. The rain beating on my tent was loud, but I felt the silence of anything comforting. No reassuring voice, no message from God… until my leader came out of his tent to get me.

********

Does it ever seem to you that God is silent? 

Does it ever seem to you that you are alone in the wilderness, even while you go about your daily life?

As I said, anywhere can be a wilderness…

Being a follower of Jesus, really trying to live by his way of love, incorporating his compassion, working for peace, establishing justice, can be a wilderness journey in a world that is quick to demonize and hate and act out with violence and injustice…

It can feel lonely. It can be challenging. It can be scary. It can feel dark.

But scripture assures us that when the darkness covers me, and night wraps itself around me, even the darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to God.”

And scripture assures us that, no matter how alone or isolated we may feel, that God is there; that even if we went to the furthest limits of the sea, God would go with us, because there is nowhere that we can flee from God’s presence.

So if you are feeling alone, as if you are in your tent, with no other human for miles around; and the darkness is so intense that you can’t see your hand in front of your face; and the silence is so intense that you can hear your own heart beating…

Know that God still goes with you.

God is with you. And God is with us, at First Christian Church. Because we, too, find ourselves in unfamiliar territory—despite our long history. The world is not as it once was. How do we effectively do ministry in a world that is so different, so unfamiliar, and — at times — so scary?

We’re on a journey of figuring all that out. A journey through the wilderness. 

And God is with us.

Alive and Present (John 20:1-18)

 She thought he was the gardener!

Have you ever not recognized someone that you should have recognized?

It happened to me once. Actually, it happens to me all the time. But the worst, most memorable time, (I don’t know if I want to tell you this!) happened at a funeral.

This was years ago in California… A few days before the funeral, I had met with the daughter of the person who had died. She wasn’t a church member, and I had never met before, but she was the one who seemed to be organizing things for the family.

She arrived for our meeting in her jeans and a casual shirt, which was fine; and we met and talked about her parent, the one who had died; and we talked about what she and the family would like in the funeral… and then our meeting ended.

A few days later the funeral took place, and she arrived, but instead of jeans and a casual shirt, she was dressed very nicely, and she had had her hair done, and she had put makeup on…

(And, yes, in this story I do need to emphasize that she didn’t look exactly as she had the first time we met, in order to lessen my embarrassment somewhat…)

And I saw her and greeted her and welcomed her… but I did not recognize her.

And let me tell you, that was as close as I’ve ever come to a major catastrophe in my ministry.

Fortunately, after a few minutes, I realized: Oh my gosh! It’s her! The daughter! How did I not recognize her!

And I quickly replayed, in my mind, the things I said to her since she arrived, to see how badly I had embarrassed myself… but fortunately, while my tone may have come across as awkward, nothing in what I had said had revealed my utter incompetence and absent-mindedness. I was able to recover… but just barely. I think.

I wonder how Mary Magdalene felt when she realized that it was Jesus standing right in front of her, yet she had failed to recognize him.

Was she embarrassed? She had known him well. It was different from my situation at the funeral. They hadn’t just met once. They were close…

Or was her joy at seeing him alive so great, that her embarrassment at not recognizing him didn’t matter?

And how did Jesus react?

The only thing he said to her, at first, was her name. Mary.

But how did he say it? 

Did he say it with laughter? “Mary! It’s me!”

Did he say it with annoyance? “Maryyyy…”

Was he disappointed? (Imagine going through all that Jesus went through, and then not being recognized by one of your closest, dearest friends.)

Or was his voice filled with gentleness and compassion? 

I like to think it was with gentleness and compassion. Mary had been through a lot herself. She was still going through a lot. The grief. The shock. 

Jesus, at this moment, already knew that there was reason for joy and celebration, but Mary didn’t yet realize that. She was still deep in her despair. 

“Oh, Mary…”

And then, imagine her face, as she realized that the one she had come to mourn, 

was in fact alive and speaking to her! 

In fact, if you had met Mary as she made her way to the tomb, while it was still dark, and then you went off for a little bit, and returned right after Jesus had appeared to her, you probably would not recognize her as being the same person you had seen earlier. Imagine how much her countenance would have changed! Her posture, her expression, her voice—everything would be different! She would look like a whole different person!

I guess the joy and hope of Easter does make us into different people. We are weighed down by so many burdens, by personal struggles, by news headlines of war and corruption and lack of compassion and lack of justice shown to those who are poor and vulnerable…

And our bodies and our expressions reflect the weight of all we are carrying.

But on Easter morning, we are reminded that all the bad news, all the negativity, all the oppression and injustice and lack of compassion and lack of love in our world, is not the final answer. 

Because the final answer is life. The final answer is love. The final answer is joy.

And when we are full of life and full of love and full of joy, our posture improves, and our face brightens, and every word we speak becomes a song of joy.

And we have this joy even though there is still so much darkness and injustice and death in our world, because we know that hope and love and life are also present, and that they are stronger, and that life does, in the end, triumph over death and all the death-dealing ways of this world.

We know this, because of the resurrection.

Mary wasn’t the only one who didn’t recognize Jesus that day…

********

Later that day (according to Luke’s gospel), two of Jesus’s closest followers were traveling from Jerusalem to Emmaus, which the scripture says is about a seven mile walk. They were discussing all that had taken place during the recent Passover festival; how Jesus came to Jerusalem, flipped the tables of the sellers and money changers in the temple, got arrested, and was crucified. 

And while they were talking and discussing these things, another traveler came near and started walking with them. It was Jesus himself, and yet… they did not recognize him.

Between them and Mary, I’m really starting to feel not-so-bad about my embarrassing moment at that funeral…

Anyway, Jesus says: “What are you guys talking about?”

And at first, they don’t know how to respond, and then one of them says: “Are you the only person who doesn’t know what happened? How Jesus of Nazareth, a mighty prophet, was handed over to Rome by the chief priests, and was crucified? We had thought he was the one to set Israel free. 

“Yet some of the women…” [for, in Luke’s gospel, Mary did not go to the tomb alone] “some of the women went to the tomb this morning and came back claiming that Jesus was alive.”

And then Jesus said, “Don’t you get it?” And he started going through the scriptures with them… 

It says he started with Moses, which is too bad. I would have loved for Jesus to have gone back even further, and to start talking to them about Joseph and his brothers, and how the brothers came to Egypt and met with the prince of Egypt, not realizing that it was actually Joseph himself they were meeting with… for they did not recognize him.

Wouldn’t that be funny?

But he didn’t. And the two disciples he was traveling with still didn’t recognize him. 

And when they reached Emmaus, those two travelers extended hospitality to Jesus, who they still thought was just some random stranger who had joined them on their journey. They offered him dinner and a place to stay for the night. 

And while they were eating, when Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and offered it to them, then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. 

And they ran back to Jerusalem, rejoicing, to tell the other disciples what had happened.

Now, maybe these stories made you chuckle: my story of not recognizing someone, Mary’s story of mistaking Jesus for the gardener, or the story of the two disciples not recognizing the traveler journeying with them as Jesus.

But how often do you forget that Jesus is alive, today, and that he dwells among us? How often do you remember to look for Jesus? How often have you encountered Jesus, and failed to recognize him?

How often have you failed to recognize our risen Lord?

******

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells his disciples that when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. And he will say to those who are righteous: “Come, you who are blessed by my father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you welcomed me; I was naked and you gave me clothing; I was sick and you took care of me; I was in prison and you visited me.”

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”

And they will be told, “Just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.”

We have a hard time recognizing Jesus in the hungry, in the thirsty, in the immigrant, in the sick, in those who are in prison. We have a hard time recognizing Jesus in the least of these, those who are most vulnerable in our society.

But when we treat them with compassion, with mercy, with empathy, with love, and with hospitality, our eyes will be opened, and we will see the risen Christ in our very midst, and we will then understand that he has been with us all along.

Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed!

And he dwells among us, in the people we sometimes overlook… the people we sometimes cast aside…

But when we serve them, and minister to them, and work with them to create a community where all are able to live lives of wholeness and abundance…

Then we will know that not only is Jesus alive… but that he lives right here among us; and when we serve the least of these among us, then our eyes will be opened, and we, like Mary, will be able to announce to those around us: “We have seen the Lord!”