I recall my first Religion Class in college which was both liberating and terrifying. Having been raised in a small town in rural Minnesota, in a small church, I arrived with my own version of the Bible, God, Jesus, the Church. With my Sunday School level understanding of things, I sat in the front row of the class that day, eager to have everything I believed confirmed and reinforced. After all, I attended a Church college. Quickly, I surmised, that this professor didn’t believe in the same Bible I did. He so nonchalantly began “looking behind” things for explanation and meaning. I felt he did so without permission from God. Was he messing with me?
I wanted to know what he believed. At the end of the semester, much of what I believed had been seriously challenged. I felt like I had nothing to hold onto.
Jesus, when he started preaching and teaching in Galilee, he started to “look behind” the Old Testament (the Bible of the day). With uncanny authority and wisdom, he told stories that uncovered God’s Word, God’s hope. For the good Jews in the synagogue that day, I bet they wondered if Jesus was playing with them. I am certain his words both terrified and liberated them. Who is this guy, they asked. A rabbi who preaches and teaches with such authority. They had to decide what to hang on to.
Most of you understand what is going on in both settings. What once worked in terms of faith and belief will often give way to new understandings. I have learned it to be a healthy process. Some call it the “deconstruction” of something in the anticipation of something new. Others describe this process as God’s transforming Spirit taking one’s “ordering” of things into a period of “disorder” when things fall apart, to the Spirit’s leading to the “reordering” of life and faith. Of course, waiting for some clarity about the new can feel like you have nothing to hold onto.
I listened to a podcast this morning about two different views of anchors. One promoted an understanding of anchor like the firm foundation of a building. The other suggested the anchor that we associate with a boat. LCM can utilize both views of course, but when the challenges of this transition time get intense, I suggest we get into the boat, flow to wherever God is leading, maybe even enjoy being adrift together and anchor only when we have done our best to hold onto each other with love and kindness. I wish for you a confidence that God, at this very moment, is reordering your future. Lent is a wonderful time to be in a boat together.
Blessings! Pastor Kirk
