A sermon preached on Ash Wednesday, 5 March 2014, at Blooming Grove RCA, DeFreestville, NY Joel 1:1-2:2 There it is: the trumpet of warning, of alarm; that stark sound in the darkness that rouses us from peace, maybe even slumber; that phone ringing at 3 AM; the horn that pierces the calm, calling volunteer firefighters to a tragedy; the jarring bleat of the emergency alert system notice on the radio or TV. There it is: the announcement that none of us are safe, that all of us are in danger, that it is time to take shelter, cowering, hoping, praying. Joel tells us that everything—all the cut corners, all the little white lies, all the errors and omissions—have caught up with us, and we have no real defense, no true hope. You know the commercials that tell us we deserve this or that pampering product? Have you ever thought about how little any of us really want what we truly deserve? But now, what we deserve is barreling towards us. Still, that isn’t the whole story. Joel 2:12-17 There it is: the trumpet again, but very different; the trumpet of invitation: the bright sound that tells us everything will be okay—or can be, at least—the cavalry bugle blaring from the hill in the old westerns; the church bells pealing; the chime on one’s computer announcing “You’ve got mail” from a friend (or, for those who are less ancient, the chime of a text or a Twitter “tweet”). Even when we are hunkered down in our spiritual and physical shelters, even when the world is falling to pieces around us, we can change our hearts, we can say “Sorry” and “Please help” to the God who loves us enough to judge us and not ignore us, and that same God loves us enough to set everything aside and forgive us. The blasting trumpet tells us that everything is hopeless, but also invites us into new hope. But that hope comes with work; we need to change our lives. Every day is, in its own way, a little Lent; every time we bow in prayer a chance to re-set our lives and a call to new life. Tonight, here we are, never abandoned to contempt, and never ignored by our loving God. Tonight, here we are, far too aware of the climate change around us, of violence everywhere from the Ukraine to Arbor Hill, far too aware that our safe place in the world is much too fragile. Tonight, we are here, and the smart money, the worldly wisdom, tells us things are hopeless. But God’s Word subverts our hopelessness, giving us hope with the very same breath. Tonight, we will confess, knowing we are forgiven, we will wear the ashes of all we regret, and tonight, if we dare, we will change our lives, sounding the trumpet of God’s hope to all Creation.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Mar 2014 03:57:56 +0000