God’s got our back

13 September 2020

Exodus 14.19-31

God’s got our back. I dislike cliches but use this one reluctantly for emphasis. God’s got our back and our front and both sides of us. He’s got us to save us from everything—the evil one, sin, death—that would deprive us of the fullness of life. Indeed, that would destroy our lives. 

In the reading today from the Book of Exodus, Yahweh God sends a series of increasingly devastating plagues against Pharaoh and Egypt. As a consequence, he reluctantly releases God’s people, the Israelites, from slavery. He has oppressed and exploited them to build his great kingdom. 

“Just go,” I imagine Pharaoh yelling to Moses “Get out and take these people with you.”

And Moses leads Israelites from slavery toward freedom and the fullness of life, and God is with him and them in power as a cloud in the day time, a pillar of fire in the night guiding them, protecting them, saving them.

But Pharaoh reconsiders his decision and leads his six-hundred chariots and their officers and his mighty army in“hot pursuit” of these former slaves. He intends to capture them and return them to Egypt or, perhaps, kill them trying

The Israelites look back in terror at that mighty multitude. They can’t go back, although they do contemplate surrender and tell Moses so. And they can’t go forward because of the Sea of Reeds. They are trapped. 

Shaking with fear, they complain against Moses: “Have you led us into the wilderness to die?”

And then God speaks to Moses, telling him, “Take up your staff and stretch it over the sea.” And he does. And walls of water rise, suspended above the sea bed. A path through the middle appears. And the Israelites rush toward the other side. 

They are within the grasp of the Egyptians, until their chariot wheels stick in the mud, the marching feet of the soldiers sink. And the Egyptians panic. 

Moses, at the command of Yahweh God, raises his staff and stretches it over the sea again, and the walls of water collapse onto Pharaoh and his charioteers and soldiers.

Exodus says that God throws them all into the water, and their drowned bodies wash up on shore.

In the wilderness and at the Sea of Reeds, God reveals his presence and his power as the cloud by day and the tower of fire by night. He does so to save his people from their enemies and to lead them to the fullness of life in the Promised Land 

The Israelites are in awe of the Lord. They  believe in him and in Moses, his servant leader. For now. 

In a metaphorical sense,  Pharaoh is in hot pursuit of God’s people today.

Pharaoh is the pandemic, with all the infections and deaths, with the disruptions to our lives—from business closures and rising unemployment, to growing homelessness and hunger. Pharaoh is racial inequality, protests, violence and destruction in our cities. Pharaoh is arguably the most divisive presidential campaign in history.

Many Americans are terrified by what is happening today.  Many of us feel alone, depressed, on the edge of despair. 

Yet, as the Exodus story reminds us, God loves his people and all people, and he is with us as the cloud by day, the tower of fire by night to save us, to heal all that is broken in us, in our country, in our world through the power of the Holy Spirit. To lead us through this sea of chaos to the promised land of life in its fullness. 

As I was working early Tuesday morning, Penny knocked on my study door. She asked me if she could share something that had happened during her devotional time minutes earlier.

She was praying from the daily service booklet of Iona Community, a Christian community off the coast of Scotland, of which she is an associate.

She prayed to the God of Life. “You are before me God, you are behind. You are around me God, you are within.” 

As she prayed those words, she said, she believed that God revealed to her that he inhabited her, that she and God were one. That he loved her. Would never abandon her. Would work in her for her wholeness, the fullness of life now and always, even eternally.

“I cried tears of joy,” she told me. 

May we know the joy that God is the cloud by day, that tower of fire by night to guide us, to defend us and to lead us to the fullness of life. God’s got our back. Amen

Black lives matter to me, should to all

Breonna Taylor. Ahmaud Arbery. George Floyd. Rayshard Brooks. These black lives, along with myriad others before them, did not matter to their white killers. Nor have black lives mattered much since the first enslaved people were transported to America in 1619.

Black lives did not matter during slavery; or after the Civil War; or during Reconstruction; or when the Klan terrorized and lynched black people. Black lives did not matter in the South of Jim Crow, that region of separate and unequal housing, education, health care and more. 

And I confess that black lives did not matter to my slave-owning forebears in Virginia and Tennessee. They regarded slaves as nothing more than property—good only for planting and harvesting and carrying crops to market, where people of color were also bought and sold. 

Black lives have mattered little to whites throughout American history, but they have always mattered to God, for, according to Genesis, God created all people, including those of color, and declared us good, each one of us made in the very image of God.

In his book “I and Thou,” the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber wrote that every human being is a Thou, sacred, and should be revered. No human being is an “It,” a life devoid of intrinsic worth. No person should be treated as less than fully human, less than a reflection of the Divine. 

Although black lives did not matter to my ancestors, they matter to me profoundly. 

I am a Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ, who embodies the God of love. And love, as Jesus taught and lived it, is the relentless pursuit of the greatest good for all people, including ones of color, for every person is a Thou.

After reading Colson Whitehead’s novel, “The Underground Railroad,” I felt convicted of my sin against people of color. No, I did not participate in the enslavement of black people, but I did benefit indirectly from that evil system, including wealth and privilege and power that are mine because of my race.

I am repenting of my sin and am amending my life, demonstrating by concrete action that black lives matter to me.  And so I am supporting St. Augustine’s University, established by the Episcopal Church in 1867. I invite you to consider giving to an historically black college or university. 

And, in the words of one of my baptismal promises, I am striving for justice and peace in other ways. With members of my congregation, Christ Episcopal Church, I participated in Roll on for Justice, a public witness against racism and for justice.

Black lives matter to God. They matter to me.  And hope and pray that black lives will matter to all of us and that we will show they do, that every person of color is a Thou, by our words and deeds of love. 

Locally, real leadership visible amid pandemic

This nation faces a deadly leadership crisis.

But not here.

One of the greatest blessings of life in Springfield and Greene County, MO is trustworthy, compassionate, capable leadership. This leadership is helping us prevail against the COVID-19 pandemic. 

As a member of the Have Faith Initiative, a group of local clergy from several denominations and religious traditions, I regularly see committed leaders work together to meet the challenges occasioned by the virus. 

And I am inspired and reassured.

Soon after the virus struck, the Community Foundation, the Community Partnership and the United Way, all blessings in and of themselves, organized the initiative to help coordinate the faith community’s response. 

During our weekly virtual meeting, we spiritual leaders hear from professionals in city and county government and public health. They brief us on the number of local and state-wide infections and deaths and the measures they are taking to mitigate the spread of the disease in the area.

The good news for us here—unlike many other Midwest communities our size—is that infections and deaths are decreasing. The chief reasons are: We are complying with the city and county stay-at-home orders. We are practicing physical distancing. We are washing our hands and wearing our masks. In these and other ways, we are loving our neighbors as ourselves, as our religious traditions teach.

As initiative members, we also assess community needs and seek to meet them. We are organizing and enlisting our congregations in food drives. We are providing temporary housing for our most at-risk homeless citizens. We are attending to the mental and spiritual welfare of nurses and pastors. And we are ministering to the faith community.

Amid this pandemic, I have been impressed by our clergy and by civil servants, including City of Springfield Mayor Ken McClure, Commissioner Harold Bengsch of the Greene County Commission and Clay Goddard, Director of the Greene County Health Department. 

I know that our leaders make public health decisions based on scientific and medical data and best practices for fighting the virus and that they strive daily to ensure our safety and health.

City and county governments, early in the pandemic, created a plan to counter the spread of COVID-19 here. They issued stay-at-home orders, closed all but essential businesses and prohibited large gatherings, including in-person religious services. And now, several weeks later, they are amending these orders as part of a careful, gradual reopening of businesses, houses of worship and other venues.

At our initiative meeting on May 7, Mayor McClure said, “I am very pleased by what is happening. We want to be able to continue the step-down activities based on the data.” 

When the time comes for Springfield and Greene County to reopen fully, we can be confident that our reopening will be at the right time—when it is safe to do so—because our community is well led. 

What a blessing.

If only we would see such trustworthy, capable leadership from state and federal governments before still more people become infected by the virus and even more people die.

It’s Holy Saturday, and we wait with Jesus

Today is Holy Saturday, the day after Good Friday, and Jesus lies now in the garden tomb. 

Psalm 88, appointed in Morning Prayer for this day, helps me understand the spiritual meaning of why this day is holy and how it brings wholeness to us. 

The Psalmist describes his “depths” of forsakenness by God. Darkness surrounds him. He cannot escape to the light. He feels abandoned, lost, and alone. No wonder he is in tears. 

“Lord,” he asks, “why have you rejected me? Why have you hidden your face from me?”

Psalm 88 gives me insight into what it must be like for Jesus at this moment, on this Holy Saturday. 

Yesterday, Good Friday, Jesus suffered and died on the cross, Thee, he absorbed the consequences of our sin,  like, if you will, a soldier throwing himself between the blast of shrapnel from an Improvised Explosive Device and his comrades in arms. 

As that soldier sacrifices his life to save the lives of others, so Jesus gives up his life and saves us from our sins and spiritual death. 

For now, though, and because of his death on the cross, Jesus lies in the tomb, “counted as one who goes down to the Pit, in dark places, and in the abyss….” 

He is “lost among the dead,” as the Psalmist writes of his own state of being, “like the slain who lie in the grave...for they are cut off from your hand.” 

Jesus is in his own depths, cut from God, not because of his sin, for he is without sin, but there, where we are, because of our sins. 

His mission from his Father is to reconcile us to God, or to bring us home to him. And he succeeds: Because of his offering of himself in love on the cross, we are now one with God, and that at-oneness, or atonement, as this Christian doctrine is called, is our salvation, our healing or wholeness, our peace.

From his own depths, the Psalmist asks God, “Do you work wonders for the dead? Will those who have died stand up and give you thanks?”

On this Holy Saturday, Jesus rests in the tomb, and we rest with him, and we wait together for God to answer that question on the third day.

And answer it, he will for Jesus and for us. Thanks be to God!

Our Holy Week journey begins in Jerusalem, ends in the New Jerusalem

May God bless you this Palm Sunday and your Holy Week. Today, we remember Jesus’ into Jerusalem. We remember; that is, we both recall this event, and we re-member it: we connect once more to it. We are there with that crowd in the holy city, joining the others in the excitement as we greet the King, who has long been prophesied. In the Daily Office reading for today from Zechariah 9.9-12, we read the prophet’s words: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion. Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem. Lo, your king comes, triumphant and victorious is he, riding on a colt the foal of an ass....” The prophet goes on to describe this kingship: the ending of violence and war, the freeing of captives (and we can interpret that word broadly to include all who are captives to whatever denies human beings their full freedom as God’s children, including poverty, oppression, and all the other ways that we humans diminish and destroy one another out of our sinfulness) and the establishing of global peace. “...he shall command peace to the nations.” As I read this text this morning during my prayer time, I felt as if the Lord were opening my blind eyes to his truth, and out of that truth, I experienced a surge of hope and joy. King Jesus is different from every king, every ruler who ever wore the crown or held the scepter. He inaugurates a unique dominion, a kingdom unparalleled in human history, for it is one of love, which is our looking not to our own interests but to the interests of others, to their complete wellbeing. We put God and others first. Out of that Jesus-style of love, all it, come justice, freedom and peace. His love, not force, is the only way to establish such a kingdom. Every act of love—every act of physical distancing and every protective mask created for use by a health care professional during this COVID-19 crisis, every phone call to check on an elderly neighbor or church member, every essential trip to the grocery or pharmacy for someone in need, every contribution to our own churches, to ministries feeding the hungry and housing the homeless and advocating for justice for the poor—every act of love is an act of building up Christ’s kingdom in this world. And we go on loving until we greet our Lord once again at his return to complete his saving work in this world. Then, we shall see the New Jerusalem of the 21st and 22nd chapters of the Book of Revelations. God bless your Holy Week journey with Jesus from his entry into Jerusalem, to his death on the cross, which is, symbolically, his kingly crown and scepter, to his burial and, then, to his glorious resurrection.

Hope for the children

My granddaughter Christa celebrated her 11th birthday on Christmas. We sang Happy Birthday and enjoyed a special cake that my wife Penny had prepared for the occasion, one in the shape of the earth, its continents and oceans made of blue, white and green icing.

Before she cut her cake, Christa surprised us, delivering a short, passionate speech about the global climate crisis. 

Scientists, based on sound evidence, say that the earth’s climate is warming rapidly, primarily caused by the burning of fossils fuels for energy, spewing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, along with the release of methane by livestock and from pipelines. These emissions trap heat, raising the earth’s temperature. 

As a consequence, ocean temperatures are rising, leading to the destruction of coral reefs and other sea life. Arctic ice is melting, raising sea levels. Rising waters swallow islands and coastlines. Drought-stricken Australia is in flames, leading to the loss of some one billion animals there. Whole species are disappearing. Once-fertile farmland is turning into deserts. Hurricanes and tornadoes are becoming more frequent and devastating.

Meanwhile, government at nearly every level, instead of acknowledging these and other truths about the climate crisis, denies them and, worse, exacerbates the crisis by its policies. Bowing to petroleum and coal interests, the Trump administration eliminates or ignores environmental regulations, actions that contribute to the poisoning of our water, air, soil—and us. It stifles independent scientific research. It suppresses the release of reports that warn of global warming and its harms, and it tells us, falsely, that taking care of the earth will cost jobs and stifle economic growth, when the opposite is true. Green jobs mean a viable, prosperous America. 

Christa’s birthday speech challenged me and reminded me that I am a steward of the earth. We all are. This earth is not ours. “The earth is the Lord’s,” Psalm 24 says, “and all that is in it.” Genesis says that God, the creator of everything, makes us responsible for caring for his creation. 

As stewards of creation, then, we must act now to protect and preserve it.  We can recycle and reuse. Penny gave me cloth bags for fruits and vegetables to replace plastic ones at the grocery. I take along other reusable bags for shopping. We can add more fruits and vegetables to our diets and eat less meat. We can buy energy-efficient cars and products. We can learn about the climate crisis. We can vote for honest leaders who will be faithful stewards of creation. We can multiply our power by joining groups that are saving the earth. Renew Missouri, which promotes renewable energy and energy efficiency statewide, is one such group. 

I am acting now for the future. I want Christa, my three other grandchildren, the children of this and subsequent generations to celebrate many birthdays to come on this, God’s earth.