Empty (Luke 4: 1-13)

 The 40-day season of Lent draws its structure from several stories in scripture.. 

The main story that Lent is structured after is the one we just heard: the story of Jesus in the wilderness. 

For forty days, Jesus was in the wilderness, where he faced temptation, fasted, and drew upon the strength of God’s Spirit to sustain him when his mind and body were weak. The 40 days of Lent are meant as a reminder of the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness.

But there is also the story of the Exodus, when Moses led God’s people on a journey to the promised land. That also took place in the wilderness; and the number 40 also plays into it, since the book of Exodus says that they wandered in the wilderness for forty years.

And the days of Lent are often thought of as a journey.

There are also echoes of Noah’s time on the ark. God sent rain upon the earth, rain that lasted for 40 days. Drifting across the waters in the ark, Noah and his family were in a wilderness, of sorts, an empty place, a wild place, though their wilderness was a wilderness on water rather than on land.

It was also in the wilderness that Elijah encountered God’s still small voice. In the book of 1 Kings, Elijah is in the wilderness. He was on the run; people were after him. He journeyed into the wilderness, going as far as he could, as fast as he could, until he collapsed under a solitary broom tree, ready to die.

But that’s when God appeared, first in the form of an angel, who encouraged him to eat. The angel said to Elijah: “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you… Get up and eat, so that you may have the strength you need.”

…Which brings to mind the manna that God provided to Moses and his people while they journeyed through the wilderness.

After eating, Elijah journeyed further into the wilderness. Any guesses how long he journeyed? 

Forty days!

And then there was a great wind, hurling like a tornado across the prairie; but God was not in the wind.

Then there was an earthquake, stronger than any I ever felt back in California; and then, a fire; and after that, the sound of sheer silence.

And it was in that sound of sheer silence, that emptiness, that the Lord appeared.

In the silence, the emptiness, of that wilderness, the Lord appeared, and Elijah received the strength and the assurance he needed.

There are other wilderness stories. In the wilderness Hagar pleaded with God on behalf of her son Ishmael. In the wilderness John the Baptist proclaimed his message of repentance. 

So many stories of the wilderness…

And every year, on the first Sunday of Lent, the gospel reading from the lectionary is the story of Jesus in the wilderness, praying, fasting, facing temptation.

And you may be wondering: Why?

Why the wilderness?

In the wilderness one becomes disoriented and bewildered. It’s a place of questions, not answers. It’s a place to get lost, not found. 

At our Ash Wednesday worship service, I did feel a little disorientation, as people came forward, and I placed ashes on their foreheads. I found it hard to wrap my head around the significance, the meaning, of it all, even though I’ve been leading Ash Wednesday services for quite a few years now. And I felt so very humbled that I was the one who was administering these ashes.

☀ Afterward, I wondered if we shouldn’t consider ashes to be a sacrament. In Disciples history and tradition, there are two acts that are considered sacraments: Baptism, and the Lord’s Supper. 

Actually, our early founders called them ordinances; they didn’t much like the word sacrament. 

Nevertheless, baptism and the Lord’s Supper are visible signs of God’s grace, which is why they are called sacraments. Sacraments are visible signs of God’s grace. God’s grace is invisible, abstract, but in the sacraments, it appears to us as something real and concrete: Bread. Wine. Baptismal water.

But aren’t the ashes we receive on Ash Wednesday similar? 

I did a little research. According to Catholics, the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday is a “Sacramental,” not a “Sacrament.” The main difference between a “sacramental” and a “sacrament,” according to the Catholic church, is that anyone can receive a “sacramental,” but only church members can receive a “sacrament.”

Well, for Disciples like us, anyone can receive the Lord’s Supper; you don’t have to be a church member. All are welcome. The table is open. 

So in our context, I’m still not sure why we can’t consider ashes to be a sacrament. Or an ordinance. 

With any sacrament—communion, baptism, ashes—I always feel as if I’m only understanding a part of the whole. Every sacrament is a sign of God’s grace and mercy and love, and who can fully understand the full extent of God’s grace and mercy and love?

In the letter to the Ephesians, we are encouraged “to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” [3.19]. But how does one know something that is beyond knowledge?

Think about that for a second…

In the book of Proverbs, it says: “Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock; the way of a ship on the high seas; and the way of a man with a young woman” [30.18-19].

I think of the sacraments like that: as too wonderful for me to understand. 

I think of God’s grace and mercy and love like that: as too wonderful for me to understand fully.

But it is something to think about, to ponder, to meditate on night and day. Because there is more there than we can ever fully understand, we can meditate on it endlessly, for the rest of our lives, and never come to the end. It’s a never ending journey of wonder.

And the season of Lent gives me a great opportunity to do just that, to focus on the grace, mercy, and love that is too great for me to understand.

☀ Many people like to give things up for Lent. At the dinner before our Ash Wednesday service, that was one of the topics talked about at the table where I was sitting.

Ideally, what we give up makes space in our lives for God. And what we give up makes space in our lives for meditation and prayer. 

Too often, God gets crowded out of our lives. Give something up that gets in the way of God, so that God has space to enter into your life.

I think my first exposure to this idea was when I was a child, and I heard my maternal grandmother, who was Catholic, talk about not eating meat during Lent, at least on Fridays. It was to remind her of Christ’s sacrifice, she said. 

So her giving up meat on Fridays during Lent helped her make space in her life for God.

This was new to me. I’ve been part of the Disciples of Christ my whole life, and grew up going to a Disciples church with my parents and my paternal grandparents. And like other Protestants, we Disciples didn’t pay much attention to Lent, or Ash Wednesday, not until the past couple of decades.

But I always admired the deep faith and devotion of my maternal grandmother, my Catholic grandmother, and admired the way she made space for God in her life, especially during Lent.

And the wilderness experience of so many characters in the Bible helped them make space in their lives for God. A wilderness experience is an emptying experience. The things that distract us from God are no longer there, and we’re left alone with God, and left alone with our own thoughts, our own emotions, and our own temptations.

It’s very hard to set aside our distractions. For many, our cell phones are an example of this. It’s hard to set them aside, even when doing so for a period of time is good for us. We want access to the information they provide, every moment of every day. We feel an emptiness without them.

We don't like the emptiness of the wilderness. Nature abhors a vacuum, and so do we. Our minds crave constant stimulation.

Why don’t we like the emptiness? Because in the emptiness, we might have to face the pain, the brokenness within. We might have to face our DEMONS. We might have to deal with the grief or loneliness we feel.

In the emptiness, in the silence, things get REAL. Too real, for a lot of people.

But if we don’t spend time with grief, we’ll never heal from the grief. If we don’t spend time in our depression, we’ll never identify what in our life might be causing the depression. If we don’t spend time with our temptations, we’ll never be able to recognize them, or resist them.

One has to spend some time alone to figure out what those demons are, what deep darkness or sadness dwells within, that has been ignored for far too long. 

You might have to spend time alone to identify them,...

And that’s scary.

But you don’t have to make that journey alone. There is strength for you on the journey to healing and wholeness…

After Jesus met his demons, angels came and ministered to him (Luke leaves that out, but it’s in Matthew, and it’s in Mark). 

After Elijah was ready to give up in the wilderness, an angel came to him as well, and gave him something to eat.

It was just what he needed.

And God was with Noah, and God was with Hagar, and God was with all those who found themselves journeying through the wilderness.

Our journey may lead us through the wilderness. Our journey may lead us to confront our fears, our pain, our loneliness, and our temptations.

But there is strength for the journey. There is bread for the journey. There is manna. There is sustenance. So even when the journey is hard, God will give you the stamina you need to endure it. God journeys with you. You are not alone.

Tempted (Mark 1: 9-13)

 

Tenth grade English class: that was the year we studied American Literature. So, no Canterbury Tales, no Shakespeare… but we did read Mark Twain. And one of the stories we read by Mark Twain was The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg.

In this story, the fictional town of Hadleyburg prided itself on being incorruptible. The citizens of Hadleyburg were honest to a fault. They did all they could to distance themselves from any and every temptation, and to remove all temptations from their children, so that no one would be, well, tempted.

But one day, a stranger came to town, and he had a bone to pick. He devised a scheme that was so ruthless, that, in the end, the 19 most upstanding, reputable men in town, and their wives, all end up giving in to temptation, and they all get caught lying and cheating as a result.

The ensuing scandal drew great attention, because everyone knew of Hadleyburg’s incorruptible reputation. How shocking it was that such a scandal could take place in Hadleyburg, of all places!

In the end, the people of Hadleyburg learned an important lesson. 

With all the prominent citizens of the town disgraced and humiliated, the town was given permission to change its name, and to change its town motto. The motto had been, “lead us not into temptation,” but the new motto now read: “lead us into temptation.”

This story left a mark on me, in part because, in the tenth grade, I didn’t quite know what to make of it. I grew up going to church, and every Sunday I prayed the Lord’s Prayer, just as we do here, which means every Sunday, I prayed: “Lead us not into temptation.” I wasn’t sure how it could be that being led into temptation could be a good thing, something you’d want as your town motto.

Several decades later, and I’m still pondering how and when it might be a good thing that we face temptation… I’m still wondering about the role temptation plays in our lives, how temptation can be our downfall, but how, sometimes, facing temptation can also make us stronger.

I wonder if Pope Francis has had similar thoughts. A few years ago, he declared that the wording of that part of the Lord’s Prayer should be changed. It wasn’t right, the Pope said, to pray, “Lead us not into temptation,” because it’s never God who leads us into temptation. Or, as Rita Mae Brown said: “Lord, lead me not into temptation, I can find the way myself.”

A better way to pray it, according to the Pope, would be to pray: “Let us not fall into temptation, or, let us not give in to temptation.”

But is the Pope right, that God never leads us to temptation?

In our scripture story today, Jesus came out of the waters of baptism, and right away, the Spirit whisked him off to the wilderness, where he faced temptation. And this temptation is one of the key events in Jesus’s life; the story appears in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. 

And it certainly does appear that this temptation, at least, was part of God’s plan. God’s Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, to face temptation…

It never occurred to me until this week, but the story The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg reminds me of Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. That’s the 1971 film version, the one with Gene Wilder, which is the one I’m most familiar with, because it came out the same year I was born, and I watched it many times as a child, even though I found it haunting and disturbing.

Now I realize: temptation is a big part of that story. Isn’t it? The five children, when they tour Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory, are all tempted to steal his secrets. In the end, Charlie is the only one to resist that temptation.

Was it good that these children faced temptation? Was it a good test of their honesty and integrity? In Mark Twain’s story, not one citizen of Hadleyburg was able to pass the test, but in Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, one person did pass the test.

The stranger who corrupted the town of Hadleyburg says in the story: “The weakest of all weak things is a virtue which has not been tested in the fire.” In other words: temptation makes us stronger. If we don’t face temptation, we remain weak. If we’re not tested, we won’t become strong. If we don’t stare our temptations in the eye, and face them, then we won’t develop the strength we need to live our lives with honesty and integrity.

It certainly seems that Jesus wasn’t ready yet to begin his ministry, until after he spent time in the wilderness, facing temptation.

So, yeah: I can’t help but wonder about how it is that temptation can be a good thing, a help, something that makes us stronger; and I can’t help wonder about when it is that God might actually lead us to temptation, to the test, so that we can learn and grow from that experience…

One of the fruits of the Spirit, listed in the book of Galatians, is self-control. I know several people who are into fitness and life-improvement who tell me that ice baths are a great way to rejuvenate your body and test your self-control.

And you can go on social media and look up fitness influencers, and you’ll see lots of them willingly, voluntarily, immersing their entire bodies in tubs and barrels filled with water and ice; and as they do, they do it with controlled breathing, as calmly as they can, controlling their instinct to yell or scream or jump quickly back out of the water.

It’s all about self-control. It’s all about overcoming one’s urges and instincts—and if you can do that by immersing yourself in a tub of ice water, then think of how strong your self-control will be in other life situations.

I admire their discipline. I, meanwhile, have already asked if there’s a heater in our baptistry, because when I baptize people, the temptation to scream or to jump right back out if the water is too cold is not a temptation I think I could resist.

But I do understand how, for some people, an ice bath can help them build their self-control, and I understand how that can help them in other situations. 

Last Wednesday at the noon small group I lead, the topic of cell phones came up, and how some people are so addicted to their cell phones. Some of us really have no control over how often we are on our phones. The temptation to constantly be on our phones is one we cannot resist.

And some people I know choose to take a break from their cell phones, or from certain social media sites, either for Lent or for some other period, because they realize they have lost all self-control when it comes to such things, and they need to regain some of that control.

It makes me wonder what tests of self-control might be helpful to us. Maybe, for someone, testing their self-control in an ice bath helps them know that they can exercise self-control in other areas of their life. Maybe it even helps them control the temptation to be on their phone too much…

So why did Jesus teach us to pray, “Lead us not into temptation?”

Bible scholar John Dominic Crossan, who wrote a whole book on the Lord’s Prayer, has looked at the context of that prayer and the situation of Jesus’s first-century life, and he believes that this line in the Lord’s Prayer is specifically referring to the temptation to use violence. 

One of the temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness was the temptation to use armies to carry out his will, to establish the kingdom of God on earth. That was, after all, how every other kingdom on earth was established. They were established by force.

As a society, that is one temptation that we find so hard to resist. Right now, as we speak, violence is being committed all over the world. Violence is being committed on a massive scale in places like Gaza, but also in homes and neighborhoods much closer.

Our society is so addicted to violence that even events that are meant to be joyful and celebratory, like the Kansas City NFL team’s victory parade, are marred by violence.

How can we as a society stop giving in to that temptation, the temptation to commit violence? Is there some kind of test that can help us achieve the self-control we need to resist? 

Is it better to face our temptations, than to ignore them? Is that why Jesus spent that time in the wilderness?

I’m afraid I’m not going to offer you an easy answer or resolution to this. Rather, my hope is that you will ponder seriously the temptations in your own life; what it is that lures you away from a life of honesty and integrity.

If you were tempted like one of those citizens of Hadleyburg, do you think you would resist that temptation? It’s easy to say yes, but we know that, in the moment, temptation is often so hard.

What can we do to build up our self-control, so that we can maintain our honesty and our integrity?

No one said this journey would be easy.

When Jesus spent his 40 days in the wilderness, the struggle was real.

When the Israelites spent 40 years in the wilderness, on their way to the promised land, the struggle was real.

As we journey through these 40 days of Lent, we may find that our struggle is also real—more real than we’d like it to be.

But as our daily Lenten devotional reminds us: at the end there is resurrection joy. Our struggles will come to an end, and we will experience peace and joy. We may have a long journey ahead of us, but we will get there.

That is what Lent is: a long journey. A journey from winter into spring. A journey from darkness to days filled with sunlight. A journey from death to life.

Whatever struggle you’re facing, whatever temptations come your way, know that things will get better.

It doesn’t happen without struggle. But in the end, victory and joy await.

Into the Wilderness (Luke 4:1-13)

Today is the first Sunday in Lent. Lent began on Ash Wednesday this past week, and several of us gathered here Wednesday evening to receive ashes and also pray for the world - in particular, to pray for peace in Ukraine, as so many church bodies were doing on Ash Wednesday. 

We were joined by some friends from North Long Beach Christian Church, our partner Disciples of Christ church just a few miles north of here.

Now, we begin our journey through the season of Lent for forty days, until we arrive at Holy Week and Easter Sunday.

Lent is kind of a wilderness journey, and on the first Sunday of Lent - every year - the lectionary gives us a story of Jesus in the wilderness, being tempted by Satan. 

The wilderness is a powerful image in scripture. 

It was in the wilderness that the Hebrews wandered for forty years, while God prepared them to be a new people and a new nation. 

It was in the wilderness that Elijah encountered God’s still small voice. 

It was in the wilderness that Hagar pleaded with God on behalf of Ishmael; God heard her plea and saw her situation, and intervened; and there, in the wilderness, Hagar became the first person to give God a name: she called God “The God who sees.”

It was in the wilderness that the word of God came to John the Baptist, leading him to preach and baptize.

And in today’s scripture, Jesus is in the wilderness; and Jesus’s time in the wilderness is meant to bring to mind those previous wilderness stories; especially, the Hebrew people wandering in the wilderness for forty years…Jesus is in the wilderness for forty days, and the repeated use of the number forty is no coincidence.

And that’s why Lent lasts for forty days…

I know from my hiking adventures and even from the time I spend at Loch Leven (our camp and retreat center) that the wilderness can be a special place. It’s quiet in the wilderness - sometimes it’s the only place quiet enough to hear that still small voice of God. 

It is often beautiful in the wilderness.

And even though a hike in the wilderness may be hard work for the body, it’s a great rest for one’s mind and one’s soul.

The wilderness is a place of renewal.

But the wilderness can also be scary and dangerous. There are no signs pointing the way. It’s easy to get lost! 

There is no protection from storms, or wild animals, and help (should you need it) is a long way away. 

Today, people escape to the wilderness to get away from the stress of modern life. I wonder if people ever did the same in Jesus’ time…Or, was wilderness always a place to be avoided?

Did they consider wilderness to be a place where one goes to escape one’s problems, or was wilderness the place where problems multiply? Was it a place of rest, or a place of challenge? Did people go there willingly? Or did they only go reluctantly - because they had to?

I ask many of these same questions in reference to the season of Lent. Is Lent a blessing, or a curse? Is it a time of comfort, or a time of challenge? Is it a time of rest, or is it a time for us to work harder, try harder? 

Do we enter this season of Lent willingly, eagerly, for the renewal it offers? 

Or do we enter it reluctantly?

Jesus went into the wilderness. He was led there by the Spirit. Whether Jesus was looking forward to his time in the wilderness, or dreading it, I cannot say.

In the wilderness, Jesus met Satan. The devil was in the wilderness… which makes me think of the wilderness as a bad place.

…but the Spirit was there, too. The Spirit was in the wilderness. So maybe the wilderness was a good place - a holy place, even.

Jesus went into the wilderness to pray, to get closer to God…

…and to face temptation.

What a mix! What contradictions! 

Jesus went into the wilderness to be alone.

But he wasn’t alone. Not only was Satan there; not only was the Spirit there; but, through the scriptures that Jesus carried in his heart, so too were his ancestors. His ancestors were there, they came to him through the words he had memorized, the words he used to fend off the devil’s attacks. These were words his ancestors had spoken, words they had written down; words that gave Jesus the strength he needed.

Which means that Jesus was alone, but at the same time he wasn’t alone at all.

How often do we feel all alone? In the trials we face? How often do we forget that God is with us, the Spirit is with us, and all our ancestors - that great cloud of witnesses - is with us?

The wilderness is a place of challenge, and the wilderness is a place of rest.

We need challenge. We need to work harder. But we also need more rest.

We need to be concerned about the state of the world. We need to let our hearts feel compassion for all the hurting people, for the people of Ukraine especially… but we also need to experience joy and laughter. 

I was reminded this week in the Wednesday prayer with our General Minister that rest is a form of resistance. To truly rest, to give yourself permission and enough time to rest, is one of the best things you can do for yourself and for the world. The world needs you at your best, and you won’t be at your best if you don’t get the rest you need.

It’s hard to rest when there’s so much work to be done. It’s hard to laugh when there are so many reasons to cry. How do we do that?

Here’s what I’m focusing on in this season of Lent. Here is what I’m looking for - what I’m keeping my eyes open for - as we begin our journey through the wilderness.

I’m focusing on the grace of God. The grace of God that surrounds me, is with me, even in all my imperfections…. I do what I can, and the grace of God does the rest. God’s grace is sufficient. 

I’m not supposed to worry about all that is more than I can handle. I’m supposed to concern myself with what I CAN handle, and do my best at the things I’m capable of doing… and leave the rest to God.

I need to not try so hard to be perfect. I talked about that on Ash Wednesday. I need to not try to hide my imperfections. When I feel that I’m just not good enough, I need to let God’s Spirit minister to me, fill in the gaps, and intercede on my behalf with sighs too deep for words.

There are a lot of challenges in the wilderness. There are a lot of obstacles to overcome. There are temptations and trials.

In some ways, it feels like we’ve been in the wilderness for two years now, ever since this COVID pandemic first interrupted our lives and changed the world as we know it. The path we are on is different. Everything around us is different. We’re in a new, unfamiliar land now, with new challenges.

And this is a wilderness experience.

What’s really strange is that when we intentionally make plans to go to the wilderness, to go spend a weekend at the cabin or day at the beach or a week or more on vacation, we often do so to get away from all our problems.

And maybe Jesus was hoping that he could get away from his problems, at least for a little while, by spending some time in the wilderness.

But the problems were there waiting for him. Satan was there waiting for him. 

But, also, the Spirit was there, as I said. And maybe it’s only in the wilderness, where things are quieter, where we feel more alone, that we finally notice the Spirit’s presence.

In the wilderness, we see more clearly the temptations, but we also know more intimately the Spirit’s presence that helps us with those temptations.

I need that. I need to be more aware of the Spirit’s presence in my life. I need to be able to hear that still small voice, so that I can more faithfully follow the path it beckons me to.

So I am thankful for time in the wilderness. I am thankful for Lent. I’m thankful for the challenge it presents, and the rest it presents. 

And most of all, I’m thankful that Lent carries with it the promise of new hope and new life. This journey is long, but it ends on Easter Sunday. It ends with resurrection.

New and Creative (John 12:20-33)

Peace be with you. I am Danny Bradfield. My pronouns are he/him/his, and I’m pastor of Bixby Knolls Christian Church.

It is so good to be with you on this first Sunday of Spring, this 5th Sunday of Lent, this first Sunday of the second year of the pandemic. 

So much has changed in our world and in our lives because of COVID-19. We’ve had to cancel so many plans, and find new ways to do just about everything. It’s been a struggle. 

Throughout it all, we’ve wondered: how can we best continue doing what we’ve been doing when everything has changed?

As we struggled with this, we knew that nothing we could do would be the same. We were sad, because we believed it wouldn’t be as good. Nothing would be as good as it was. Not with all the concessions we’ve had to make because of the pandemic. 

But maybe, we thought, we can at least try to approximate the experiences we had before. After all, we have the internet; we have zoom; we have facebook live. And if we were successful, we could say to ourselves, well, it’s not the same, it’s not as good, but at least it’s something… at least it comes close.

However, there have been times when I was surprised and elated to discover that some of the things that we’ve seen and done… some of the altered, alternative ways of doing things… have actually brought new blessings, new insights, new creativity, new joy, new enjoyment!... And I was not expecting this.

It began last spring, in the early days of the pandemic. Ethan and I enjoy watching American Idol, and last season - a year ago, when they realized they wouldn’t be able to pack a theater in Hollywood with all the singers and an enthusiastic, cheering audience - they sent video and audio equipment to the singers’ homes, and had them perform remotely. 

And since much of the enjoyment I get in watching the show comes from knowing a little about the background and personal lives of the singers, to see them in their own homes actually added some elements of enjoyment that weren’t there previously. One singer sang outside his family barn. Another sang on an outdoor patio with trucks passing by on the highway in the distance. 

...and I thought: that’s kinda cool.

In other realms, people starting going live online from their homes. Including me. Including us. And it was raw, but it was also real. 

Our General Minister started having weekly prayers online. Some of my favorite musicians started doing music concerts from their homes, from their kitchens and living rooms and backyards. 

These were all ways to make up for the experiences and opportunities that we lost to the pandemic, and there was much that was missing. But there was also much that was new and fresh. And we discovered that we could do things that we didn’t think we would ever do, or that we could ever do.

Last week, I watched part of the Grammys… The producers and planners knew that they couldn’t do the Grammys the way they’d been done in the past. 

They could have done what the Golden Globes did: they could have tried their hardest to simply recreate or replicate the traditional format, making sacrifices and alterations when necessary as a concession to the pandemic.

But they didn’t do that. Instead, they decided to completely reinvent not just the Grammys, but to reinvent awards shows in general.

I was impressed by the creativity involved. Not just the creativity of the artists who performed, but also the creativity of the show itself. 

Obviously, this year’s show could not be the same as previous years. Because of the pandemic, filling up an auditorium full of people all packed in together just isn’t something we can do these days, because of COVID.

So, they got creative. They had the nominees only, seated at small tables spread safely apart, on what appeared to be a rooftop across the street from Staples Center. Staples Center was the backdrop for the ceremony. It was all lit up, and as the California sun set, the colors on the building began to glow, which made it look extra magical.

Somewhere nearby, they had built five stages in a circle - in the center of the circle were cameras and sometimes the host, Trevor Noah, but no audience. Each stage had its own entrance from the back, which allowed the artists to enter and exit while safely maintaining distance from other people. 

And at times, the show moved from one stage to the next, from one performance to the next, several in a row, one after the other.

And the most amazing thing is: it was a really good show. Many say it was even better than traditional awards shows. Because of COVID, the Grammys were forced to transform into something new, and that “something new” was beautiful.

And I loved it. 

I have loved every single moment, every single event, during this pandemic, in which people realized that the old way of doing things wasn’t possible, and a new way had to be tried… and the new way ended up being more creative, more innovative, than the old way ever was.

Now: No one wanted to reinvent how to do an awards show. It was something that was done out of necessity. But some are saying that it was done so well, that awards shows from here on have been forever transformed.

So. Why am I talking about the Grammys? Well, let me talk about today’s scripture, and see if you can figure out the connection.

Philip and Andrew go and tell Jesus that there are some people who wanted to see him. These people were Greeks, which just means they were Gentiles; they were non-Jews. That’s significant, because it shows that interest in Jesus’ mission and ministry had spread beyond the Jews, to include other people from other cultures and other religions.

So they tell Jesus about them, and Jesus starts going on about a grain of wheat that dies and gets buried in the ground, and how those who seek to hold on to their life will lose it, but those who lose their life will find their life renewed. 

And this sounds like Jesus is being all negative and a party pooper, but what he’s really saying is that his movement isn’t so much about gathering greater crowds and drawing greater numbers of people; rather, it’s about transformation. It doesn’t mean anything to have a dozen or hundred or a billion people join the movement, if those dozen or hundred or billion people don’t experience some form of transformation.

The kind of transformation that comes about only through death and resurrection.

And a lot of people want the resurrection, but they don’t want the death that comes before it. They want Easter, but not Good Friday. 

But Good Friday is important. Good Friday is dying to the corrupt, sinful ways of this world. Good Friday is letting what is contrary to God’s kingdom die so that something new can take its place.

This is something we in the church call repentance. Repentance is turning away from one way of living to embrace a new way of living. Repentance is transformation.

And for all we talk about repentance and transformation and Good Friday and Easter Sunday and letting go of our old life so that we can embrace our new life… we in the church aren’t always very good at this.

We do, in fact, try to hold on to old ways, even when old ways are no longer supporting our mission and ministry.

This is even true for Bixby Knolls Christian Church. We are a progressive Christian Church, theologically and practically. We have reimagined our future through the New Beginnings program. We have engaged in the difficult work of transformation, letting go of old ways, and embracing new ways that we believe will help us move forward in mission and ministry.

And yet…

Why do we still recite the Lord’s Prayer, using language that people used in the 16th and 17th century? “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” No one talks like that. Why do we still pray like that? 

Because it’s how we’ve always done it.

Now, maybe there’s nothing wrong with that. But even in a church like ours, we sometimes find that we do a lot of things out of habit, that we cling to the old ways,... but then Jesus says: “those who love the life that they cling to will lose it, but those who are willing to die to that life will find new life, the life of the ages.”

Back to the Grammys...

The producers of the Grammys must have asked themselves: “How much of the old way of doing an awards show are we going to try to hold on to?“

The Golden Globes tried to hold on to everything, which kept the Golden Globes from being bold and creative; and people hated it. I’m not entirely sure why, because I didn’t watch the Golden Globes. But the reviews were not good. 

But the Grammys got creative and tried a completely new way of doing things… and it worked.

I should point out that not everything was perfect. At one point during the Grammys, because they were outside on a rooftop across the street from Staples Center, someone giving a speech on stage was visibly startled by the sound of a motorcycle going by on the streets below. 

It made me laugh; we sometimes experience the same thing here in our sanctuary. We have to keep the doors open for better ventilation as recommended by the CDC. 

But is it really that big of a deal? I don’t think so.

I remember a time when I was walking along the Promenade Trail on top of Signal Hill, and I sat down to enjoy the peace and quiet and maybe engage in some prayer and meditation… and I couldn’t help but hear all the sounds of the city below. Cars on the freeway. Planes in the sky. Air conditioners buzzing. A siren, once in awhile. 

But rather than get annoyed by such things, I incorporated them into my prayer. In hearing the sounds of the city, I felt the Spirit leading me to pray for my city…

The Spirit does that sometimes: it takes what we try to ignore or push away and turns it into a tool for spiritual growth.

So maybe the sound of motorcycles passing by our sanctuary during worship is a sign from the Spirit… maybe they are to teach us to be aware of the community that exists outside our sanctuary walls. Or maybe they are to teach us that a perfect worship service, and a good worship service, aren’t always the same thing...

Now, I get that, when Jesus was talking about a grain of wheat dying, being buried in the ground, and then producing new life, he wasn’t talking about motorcycles, or the Grammys. He was talking about himself. His own life. How he would die, how he would be buried in the ground, and then come back to life at the resurrection.

But here’s what’s catching my attention: when Jesus did come back to life - when the stone was rolled back and he came out of the tomb, and he appeared to Mary at the tomb; and he appeared to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberius; and he appeared to the travelers on the road to Emmaus… 

...None of them recognized him! He looked different. Transformed. He didn’t look anything like he looked before!

So when we go through a period of darkness, a period of dormancy, a period of death, we won’t come out of it the same. 

Which means that as we emerge from this pandemic - something that will happen gradually, and not in an instant - as we emerge from this pandemic, we won’t be the same. This pandemic has transformed us. We are forever different.

Is that good news or bad news?

It depends. If you are the Golden Globes, and you try to make everything like it was before: it’s bad news.

But if you are the Grammys, and you take this as an opportunity to not only carry on, but to get creative and find a way to carry on that’s even better than what you were doing before: then, it’s good news.

Last week, we took time to mourn and lament all that we’ve lost during this pandemic. That is important work. That is Good Friday work. If you missed last week’s worship, I encourage you to go back and view the video, because this week’s worship - with its focus on transformation and new things - is incomplete without last week’s lamenting of all that we have lost.

This week, the focus is on the good news of new life, the good news of transformation. The opportunity we have to die to our old selves, and be made into a new creation in Christ. 

And I could go on, detailing every aspect of our lives to which this applies. But what is most on my mind these days is how we’re going to worship once we return to gathering together in our sanctuary.

That’s what’s on my mind as I hear Jesus’ words about a grain of wheat dying and being buried in the ground, and then springing forth into new, abundant life.

That’s what’s on my mind as I consider how Jesus himself was visibly transformed into something new, something that his followers didn’t even recognize at first, not until he gave them some sign, or spoke their name, or said a familiar prayer, and then realized that this was, in fact, the Jesus they knew and loved.

That’s what’s on my mind as I think about how the Grammys reinvented themselves, took the unfortunate circumstances of the pandemic and used that as a challenge to get creative and find an even better way to produce an awards show.

Make no mistake: it is a challenge. But we’ve had a year of livestream worship, and now, as we make plans to return to in-person worship, the challenge before us is also an opportunity. And I don’t think it’s an opportunity we should allow to pass us by.

Plus: even if we tried to be the same, we would fail. Why? Because our world has changed. And we, as a church, have changed. We aren’t the same church we were a year ago. We have new people joining us for worship, people who have never set foot in our sanctuary. People who have only ever worshiped with us online! Do you realize how awesome that is? God is doing a new thing among us… the work of transformation and the growth into new life has been occurring, even as we’ve been in lockdown! Even as we’ve been hidden away, like a seed in the ground!

We have learned to not hold too tightly to the life we have, and because of that, God is bringing new life into our congregation!

Jesus prays that God’s name be glorified. That’s what we’re here for: to glorify God’s name. 

Not to maintain patterns and activities that have served us well, but which need to be retired.

Not to get back to a way of doing things that characterized our life together before COVID.

We are here to glorify God.

And God is glorified when we let go of the life to which we cling, and allow God to create something new - new life - within us and among us.