Lent 1 B

There is a common theme that runs through these very different scripture passages we’ve read today. From the familiar story of God’s promise to Noah after the flood to 1 Peter’s description of the theological benefit of baptism to the Gospel of Mark’s short but important mention of Jesus’ time in the Wilderness.

Each of these accounts from Scripture point to a period of time, or an event that leads to transformation.

After the forty days and forty nights of rain and then flood from which God saves Noah and his family, God restores creation and renews his covenant, his promise, with all humankind. From 1 Peter we heard that through baptism, Christ’s death and resurrection become our transformation, too, our salvation. And in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus goes immediately from his own baptism to an extended period of time — forty days — in the wilderness. This Gospel at least doesn’t give us many details, but when Jesus returns, he is ready to begin his ministry.

All these scriptures talk about change, transformation… They help invite us into a season the church calls Lent — a season all about transformation … But really, when it comes down to it: any forty days or forty years (or even forty minutes on a Sunday morning) is about change.

Would you have come to worship today if you expected to be exactly the same when you left? Probably not.

I imagine that each of us, no matter what other experiences make us unique, can relate to change — and the process of being changed. In baptism, all Christians are called to be daily renewed — transformed on a daily basis.

Just as each of us is called to be transformed, so too are congregations. Lutherans, as much as anyone should know that the church is always reforming — and always being reformed. In this country, in our time, there are serious changes taking place with how people participate in church. For many churches, that change has meant fewer people. You’re probably aware that fewer people attend this congregation than in the past.

The changes going on around us, in our country, in our neighborhood, in our habits as families, and single people, and young people, and retired people generally have led to fewer people encountering God or sensing God in the church. We could complain about those changes, and say, what a shame. But it won’t really solve the issue at hand, which is:

If, as a congregation, Good Shepherd does not change; if we do not allow ourselves to be transformed by our journey — we won’t be here in forty years. We won’t be here in ten. My purpose is not to shock or discourage you, but to remind you, and to remind myself, that we, as a congregation, are constantly called to be transformed by our wilderness journey. Not to change willy nilly for the sake of change, but to repent.

Ah, there’s that word that Jesus uses. “Repent and believe in the Good News.” Now, I know that repentance sounds like something you do when you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar — and I guess it is. But trust me that it’s really a gift. And it’s way better than cookies. Repentance is what you do to find your way through the wilderness.

In other words, to constantly stop, pause, consider where God is, and orient ourselves, our habits, our decisions in that direction. Sometimes repentance is uncomfortable, maybe it’s always uncomfortable. But it will also save our lives.

That’s why even as we begin a season of repentance and wilderness journeying, each of our readings today describe a story of struggle guided by a promise.

For as many questions are raised by how and why it comes to be that the earth and all creation suffers through forty days and nights of terrible rain and the devastating flood that comes with it, it becomes clear in this familiar Bible story that God’s primary role is saving humanity and all of creation.

And as we continue to wrap our minds and lives around what repentance really means, consider that even you read a bit further in the story, you realize that Noah and his family were not perfect people by any stretch of the imagination. God’s saving act was for people that would continue, again and again, to need repentance. People that continue today to need to look for signs of God in the wilderness.

When Jesus emerged from the wilderness, he announced:

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

See, he was not alone in the wilderness. He had encountered God there. Through a long and difficult journey filled with temptations and bad news, Jesus announced Good News: that the Kingdom of God was closer than anyone thought.

And this is the promise for us — that through our baptismal journey, even through the difficult and tempting wilderness stretches, we are restored. We are continually brought back into this promise that God has made with us, even when we are found off the path, over and over again, it is God’s end of the deal that keeps giving us life and giving us a future … even as we mess up our end.

This means Good News for God’s mission here at Good Shepherd. This means that no matter where our journey takes us — that the promise remains the same: God is near. We can encounter God even in the wilderness. Especially in the wilderness. Or maybe better said, God encounters us. And God renews us by water in our baptismal journey. God gives us signs and reminders of Grace. Rainbows in the sky. Moments of forgiveness. The needs of our neighbors and the life we still have to share.

There are signs around us. Prayer shawls surround the sick with love. Quilts are sent out around the world. Next weekend the young people in Good Shepherd’s youth group will gather to feed the hungry. There are many signs. We stop. Pause. Look around. Where else do you see God pointing the way on this journey?

As we travel together in our baptismal journey, our Lenten journey, and our journey together to do God’s mission in this place, we give thanks that the wilderness gives us life along the way.

In honor of celebrating Bold Women today, I want to share this poem about a wilderness journey written by Margaret Atwood:

The Moment

The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your room, house, half-acre, square mile, island, country, knowing at last how you got there, and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose their soft arms from around you, the birds take back their language, the cliffs fissure and collapse, the air moves back from you like a wave and you can’t breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing. You were a visitor, time after time climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming. We never belonged to you. You never found us. It was always the other way round.

by Margaret Atwood

The good news is that even in our trials and temptations, in our reluctance to change, in our accomplishments and in our defeats, God is always leading us through the wilderness. And around every corner, behind every tree, above and below every cliff … God is present and reminds us of the promise that we will be transformed. That the end of the journey does not belong to us. It belongs to God. And over and over, we are re-made by God’s love, pulling us toward God’s end of the promise.