2026-02-23
Brooke Strong
Sermon Text...
As you’ve heard me explain, our theme for this Lent is about being filled to the brim, a theme grounded in the belief that we have done nothing to earn or deserve God's grace, but that grace, like water, runs and spills over us.
The theme doesn't deny or ignore suffering or absolve accountability for wrongdoing. Rather it reminds us to live fully as we pursue justice and hope or express grief and gratitude. In response to this theme on Wednesday, in addition to the traditional ashes, we offered a glittery gold mark to be placed on people's foreheads as a symbol of the stardust from which we have been formed and of the grace that we receive.
Now some of you may be confused because, after several weeks when Judy and I preached sermons calling out the actions of ICE that are antithetical to the gospel, you may wonder how can I now be talking about a theme so focused on abundance and on the lavish love and grace of God. It’s a valid question in some respects, but I can't imagine how we cannot focus on these things. We need to be reminded of God’s promises as a source of hope that is desperately needed in this moment.
It was almost exactly six years ago that we watched life as we had known it crumble to dust and ash in a moment as a global pandemic swept in. Remember how many of us thought it would last three weeks . . . we couldn’t have imagined three years! We learned then, in no uncertain terms, that we are small and mortal, vulnerable and defenseless.
This is the reality with which Jesus wrestles in our gospel reading this morning. He has to learn to discern God's presence in the bleak and lonely wasteland in which he finds himself. We too must trust God's love in the barren places of our lives.
It's one thing to trust God when everything is all happy and joy-filled, or to trust God in retrospect when the hardships are behind us. But it's quite another, my friends, to trust God when the comforts and certainties on which we rely have been burned to ash. As an example, even though their stories no longer dominate our daily news headlines, this is the reality for millions of people in Gaza and Haiti where food, housing and water crises make life nearly impossible for the vast population of displaced persons in both regions.
Returning to our gospel passage, let’s listen to how the story begins. Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan River and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. Two things struck me when I read this passage this week that I don't remember noticing before. First is the way the text begins. There truly is no other way to imagine encountering the temptations of this time in the wilderness than to be full of God’s spirit. The second thing that jumped out at me was that Jesus didn't choose to enter the desert; the Spirit led him there.
We don't choose to enter the desert either, do we? And yet the wilderness comes to us . . . in hospital waiting rooms when we suffer crippling panic attacks or struggle to help a troubled child . . . when we work to negotiate a thorny relationship or cope with the sudden death of someone we love. Now the fact that the wilderness comes doesn't mean that God chooses for us to suffer. Rather, God will find a way in our suffering to offer blessings to us, even in the darkest moments, if we simply choose to stay the course and remain in the desert. It means that this barren place can be holy even as it is dangerous.
So what does all of this imply for us as we begin our own Lenten journeys? I wonder if it's to show us that we are invited by the Holy Spirit on our own pilgrimages to embrace the desert, to face down our doubts, our fears, our anxieties and our brokenness, and to make our home among them in the tension between the desolation and the burgeoning possibility of endless grace and lavish love.
But the temptations are everywhere here where life can often feel overwhelming, where community can feel divided and where we may choose to avoid those who think differently that we do. We can be so tempted to stay locked away in our own echo chambers, but I urge you to resist – resist that temptation because God created us to be in relationship with God and with one another.
As tempted as we might be to avoid conflict and stay cocooned away, surrounded only with people who think like we do, I think we need to recognize there are others in the community who need our presence, our witness, and our ministry. I think God is calling us to keep reaching out, to finds ways to build bridges across lines that separate us. At the risk of stealing some of the thunder of the annual meeting, we witness that when we risk staying engaged, continuing to welcome all who join our community, we can be a place where our faith is lived out in vibrant ways.
Because of your commitment to continue to be the church, even in a time of transition, Federated has thrived during this interim time. Giving is up, worship attendance is up, and we have welcomed 49 new members over the past fifteen months. The church is poised to move forward in exciting ways as your new pastor arrives.
Some of you have expressed concern about facing yet another change. But, my friends, don't let the tempter win! Pause and notice the myriad ways that God is present, shining a light on a very bright future, offering ways to make a difference in the world so in need of God's love, grace and good news.
Pulitzer prize-winning poet Mary Oliver, in her famous poem, A Summer Day, asks what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life. This is essentially the question that we're asking this Lent as we seek to live into the expansive lives God dreams for us. Wednesday evening, I asked people to name one to two things on which they want to focus to expand their faith in this season. I was deeply moved by the responses that people shared, with three themes repeated often: seeking to be more kind, taking time for prayer and meditation, and paying attention to the blessings we receive.
During Lent, we are offering two opportunities that support these choices. First, we have available in the narthex prayer bags that contain 40 strips of colored paper with a name of a member on each one. You are invited to take out a strip each day, offer a prayer for the person named, then create a loop and form a chain that will grow each day. During Holy Week, you’ll be asked to return your prayer chain and we will use these to decorate the building with a powerful reminder of our deep connections as resurrection people.
Second, you are invited to find a bowl or jar and to daily or weekly reflect on the gifts you are given by God’s grace. Note these on a slip of paper and place them in your vessel. On Palm Sunday, we will pour these into a common bowl that we will fill to the brim with our gratitude. If you need a jar to use for this purpose, our Sunday school children have made some that are on the table in the narthex. Please help yourself.
My question for you this morning – my challenge – is to consider what you will do with your wild, precious life in this season. Lent reminds us that life is fragile and finite and so asking this question is one of stewardship: how will you steward the resource of your life to impact and make a difference in this world? My friends, Lent is not a time to do penance for being human. Rather, it is a time to embrace all that it means to be human and hungry, human and vulnerable, human and beloved. So what will you do with your one wild and precious life as we seek to live full to the brim in this Lenten season? Let us embrace this opportunity and the sacred privilege of witnessing how we will each do that over these next 40 days. Amen.