Texts: Genesis 9:8-17 and Mark 1:9-15
As another season of Lent begins, we are reminded, again, of 2 familiar stories—Noah and the Ark and Jesus’ baptism followed by temptation in the desert.
The biblical story of Noah and the flood and the rainbow isn’t just about God getting mad at the world and deciding to start over, only saving Noah and his family for re-population. What’s more important is that it’s about the covenant God makes with God’s people that God will never do anything like that again. This covenant is symbolized by God’s hanging the bow in the sky—the bow being the weapon of war—indicating that God will no longer be at war with humankind. Instead, God promises to be with us. Even in the wilderness.
This doesn’t mean that life is going to be simple, easy or trouble-free. Even Jesus, God’s beloved son, had to spend time in the wilderness. But the wilderness can be survived, and God will be with us, even there.
Some years back, I helped my friend Pam, who is an Intentional Interim Ministry Specialist, move her belongings from where she had been serving a UCC church to another friend’s parsonage where she had been invited to stay until she found another interim position. While heavy filing cabinets were being lugged down the basement stairs by some of the men who were assisting, I spent a few minutes reading Carol’s refrigerator—that’s one of my favorite pastimes when visiting other people’s kitchens! There was a magnet that said, “I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things.” I thought that was a sentiment worth remembering.
In the difficult times in our lives, can we, too, have that kind of outlook on life? Can we remember to look for the oases in the desert? Hardship can show us the goodness and generosity of other human beings. Loss of a loved one can show us how many friends we have. This doesn’t make the pain we are going through any less, but it does show us that we are not alone and that there are those who care about us.
The Old Testament tells us of a God who grows angry and frustrated with the humanity that God created. We’ve all seen movies or documentaries (or even real life) where a potter is working at the wheel and doesn’t like what’s taking shape. Suddenly the wet, spinning clay is mashed down by the potter’s hands so that the creation may be started over again. Sometimes this process occurs repeatedly until the pot resembles the design originally conceived in the artist’s mind.
But God wasn’t working with inanimate objects. God created living, breathing creatures with whom God has a relationship. And so, it would seem, God repents of God’s actions in destroying the world, and promises never to do that again.
Some people put the emphasis on the end of verse 11 where God says, “…never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” They think this implies that the earth may be destroyed by some other means, but never again by water. I believe the pledge is that God will never destroy the world again. Human beings may destroy it, but God will not. And even God seems to need a sign and seal, a symbolic reminder of the covenant. So God places the bow (the weapon of war at the time this story was written) in the sky—pointing away from the earth—as a reminder of that pledge; that covenant.
The first audience for this story knew all about covenants. Ancient Israelites reading or hearing this story would immediately recognize the covenant ceremony. It was part of their culture. So God was indeed limiting God’s self by putting down this giant bow—a weapon of destruction which had just cleansed the earth of all those wicked people. It is a RAIN bow. It “sends rain.” The refraction of sunlight through water vapor is a modern idea that doesn't apply to this story.
And God’s promise sounds like a kid’s: “I won’t do that again.” But it is a comfort to us lesser parties to the covenant to know that the powerful one has only friendly intentions toward us little ones. [1]
God has given us freedom and responsibility in this covenant, and God has also promised to remain with us.
Because of our human actions, life is still full of hardships and the wilderness is the place where life is at the raw edge. We are and will be tempted and we will have to make decisions and then live with them. Our times in the wilderness can strengthen our faith and strengthen us for what lies ahead in life. I don’t believe that God tests us with temptations, but I do believe God is with us in the struggles of our journeys.
Lent is, traditionally, the time when we focus on wilderness experiences, surviving temptation, confessing our sins and shortcomings, and preparing ourselves for the joy of the resurrection on Easter morning by focusing on the dark days that preceded it. In our dark days we may come face-to-face with God’s love that makes us all special and that calls us to be children of God.
In the Disney movie The Lion King, Simba has run away from home after a terrible misunderstanding that resulted in the death of his father Mufasa, the king. As he wanders in the tall grasses, considering whether to return to the rest of the lion pride and take his place as king, he sees wise old Rafiki, the baboon. Simba confronts him, saying, “Who are you?”
Rafiki says, “The question is, ‘Who are you?’”
“I thought I knew. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Well, I know who you are. You’re the one who’s confused. You don’t even know who you are.”
“Oh, and I suppose you do?” replies Simba.
“Sure, you’re Mufasa’s boy.”
Simba gasps in awe and Rafiki waves good-bye and takes off. Simba chases him and begs to know how Rafiki knew his father. “But my father died,” says Simba. “Nope, wrong again,” says Rafiki. “He’s alive. And I’ll show him to you. Just follow old Rafiki; he knows the way.”
After running through a thorn-filled, circuitous route, Rafiki abruptly stops Simba and says, “Shhh…look down there,” pointing at the water’s edge.
After looking at himself in the water’s surface, Simba says, “That’s not my father; that’s just my reflection.”
“No,” says wise old Rafiki, “Look harder.” As Simba looks into his reflection, Rafiki says, “See, he lives in you.”
Suddenly, Simba has a vision of his father walking out of the clouds and saying, “Simba, You have forgotten me.”
“No, how could I?”
“You have forgotten who you are and so have forgotten me. Look inside yourself, Simba. You are more than what you have become. You must take your place in the circle of life.”
“How can I go back?” Simba asks, “I’m not who I used to be.”
“When you remember who you are; you are my son and the one true king. Remember who you are.”
As the vision recedes into the sky, Simba tries to hold onto it, but all he can do is hear the echoes, “Remember who you are” and “He lives in you.” [2]
As people of the covenant—and we are heirs of the covenant—remember that God’s spirit lives in you, just as it lives in Jesus. When you remember who you are and acknowledge God’s spirit in you, you can embrace the promises of God’s everlasting covenant. As you come to the table today, and as you journey through the weeks of Lent, may you find yourself face to face with our God of grace who delights in you and takes pleasure in who you are … now and always. AMEN.
(Image from www.flickr.com)
Endnotes
1. Note #16 from Bill Mosley to “Sermonshop 2006 03 05” on Ecunet.
2. Carla Thompson Powell, “Sermonshop Sermons” note # 5295.
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