1 In that day you will say:It seems odd to hear "Shout aloud and sing for joy" during Lent. This is the somber season with purple and self-reflection and giving up stuff. Isn't this kind of thing, like, against The Rules or something?
“I will praise you, LORD.
Although you were angry with me,
your anger has turned away
and you have comforted me.
2 Surely God is my salvation;
I will trust and not be afraid.
The LORD, the LORD himself, is my strength and my defense;
he has become my salvation.”
3 With joy you will draw water
from the wells of salvation.
4 In that day you will say:
“Give praise to the LORD, proclaim his name;
make known among the nations what he has done,
and proclaim that his name is exalted.
5 Sing to the LORD, for he has done glorious things;
let this be known to all the world.
6 Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion,
for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.”
Well, we have walked the somber path of Lent, hearing stories of personal trials and growth, talking about the place of suffering and self-denial in our faith. But as we near the season's end we must remember what it's all pointing to. We're not walking in circles here, we're going somewhere! The Lenten path leads to the cross. We need to embrace/explore the role of suffering in our relationship with God in order to understand that. But the cross itself leads to salvation. It's not an ending point but a new beginning.
The chemical reaction of the cross is pretty simple. Take our suffering, sin, and imperfection, mix thoroughly with God, and watch them turn into hope, faith, and salvation.
Lent allows us to be honest about the material we bring to the experiment. So many times we try to find God by denying imperfection. "Everything will be OK" and "Be good for Jesus" are common platitudes among Christians. Lent helps us see that everything is not OK. People make mistakes. People suffer through no fault of their own. In the end people pass away like dust, blown to the wind. We find that message uncomfortable. We try to distract ourselves from it. Lent slows us down, calms us down, brings us eye to eye with mortality in all its glory and shame.
But the second part of the reaction--the part that happens upon mixing with God--is the real point. If we leave that out we're left with our imperfection, either despairing of it or glorying in it as if it were a badge of independence. Once we have our mortality firmly in hand we bring it to the cross where God does the mixing. Three days later it's transformed into immortal goodness and with it our somber laments transformed into unbridled joy.
The author of Isaiah 12 knows his imperfections. In the very first verse of the chapter he says he knows God has been angry with him. But that's not the end of the story. Before he can even finish the sentence he's moved into "your anger has turned away and you have comforted me". He knows what God is about. He knows this story has a great ending.
Like Isaiah, we end our Lenten journey honestly bearing our burdens--now on the last steps of their journey until they're relieved--and honestly praising at the same time. This is the best miracle God ever devised: even our lowest and most fearful moments only end up bringing us closer to him in the end. The more we're carrying the more we have reason to shout in joy and determination as the cross appears over the horizon. We're not lifting praise because our burdens are good or because the cross itself is good. We're not praising because we expect this to be a wonderful time. Both Jesus and we will shed tears before it's done. We're shouting for joy because healing is at hand and we know now how much we need it. We're shouting for joy because after this cross comes something unbelievably wonderful that we never could have experienced without God loving us.
I said in the sermon that this Sunday was the moment on top of the roller coaster hill. We've just been through weeks of "click, click, click" getting pulled up the slope of Lent. Now we're perched, still, full of trepidation wondering how these next few moments will feel. In a second we'll feel a lurch and the drop will start. At first we're going to white-knuckle the handrail as we pick up speed, repeating to ourselves as Isaiah does: "I will trust and not be afraid." At some point, though, there's no response but to throw up your hands and scream it out, "WHOOOOOOOO!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!! WOW!"
Welcome to the ride of Palm/Passion Sunday, Holy Week, and Easter. I hope you find joy in the trip.
--Pastor Dave (pastordave@geneseelutheranparish.org)
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