“How is it, Lord, that we are cowards in everything save in opposing Thee?” -St. Teresa of Avila


Texts:

Psalm 35:1-10

Jeremiah 29:1-14

Mark 5:1-20

"For I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you.  You will seek me and find me; when you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you, says the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the LORD, from which I sent you into exile."

Jeremiah 29:11 is a fairly common confirmation verse.  Spoken by young teenagers as they prepare to embark on a journey in which people of faith seem fewer and fewer and farther and farther between, I think this is apt.  On the other hand, while I do not discount the value of memorizing Bible verses, it somehow seems so thin relative to the promises many of these verses include.  These people, in the 70 years of exile, would watch one - maybe two - generations die, never to see the fulfillment of these promises.  And yet, these words of hope ring throughout Scripture, to this day, in which we continue to quote this promise.

What is it to be in exile?  What is it to be a refugee?  To a certain extent, we can only understand our self-imposed exiles.  Our brothers and sisters around the world, however, know a different reality.  A young man who worships in my congregation spent the first 7 years of his life in a refugee camp.  He speaks three languages, translating for his family.  He doesn't speak of having a father; I don't ask, for he has seen realities I cannot imagine.  He asks if he can come to Sunday School, if he can learn how to light the candles, if he can be woven in to the fabric of our community.  Most of us are too proud to ask to be woven in and too proud to ask that the promises extend to us.

Sometimes, the promises seem too thin to be real.  The memory verses too pithy, too weak, to change our lives.  Listen as the Bible is read in church.  Often when read, it is mumbled along, as though to actually say, "There's not really much in here, blah, blah, blah, Jesus loves you, blah, blah, blah, and all of God's promises are a "Yes" in Christ Jesus," blah, blah, blah..."  and we live our lives the same.  What if we believed - really believed - that this Word did something?  What would the world look like if we really believed there was something in the confession and forgiveness, something in the reading and the preaching of the Word, something in the bread and the wine, that points to the truth of humans and of God?  What if we accidentally got wrapped up in this life of faith to the point we forgot how to live without it?  

We would find ourselves woven into something that draws us into a reality so big, extending from the beginning of time to its end, connecting us with people in all times and all places, imagining the unimaginable: that, despite all indications to the contrary, we have a future and a hope, found in the one who Creates, Sustains, and Redeems creation.