Sermon - "The Great Love" - Mark 1.9-15

St. Paul’s L’Amoreaux, Lent 1, March 1, 2009

As we follow Jesus into the Lenten wilderness through these few, brief and dense verses, Annette Brownlee’s words from last week must surely be kept in mind. Week by week we gather as the church to be shaped and formed by the word of God.

But before entering the wilderness, we must begin where it began for Jesus, the voice from heaven declaring: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11)

Bishop Tom Wright asks the right question here: what, for instance, is the effect on those when the fatherly voice they first knew as a child was a voice of rejection, callousness, harshness, or neglect. What is the effect of a father’s voice which is cold, critical and distant?

And what, by contrast, is the effect on Jesus of this voice, heralding the great love of God? What is the effect for us - that God loves us with a love beyond all measure? And where, exactly, can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

Well, as Mark’s Gospel explains, and as Jesus demonstrates, first of all you can go into the wilderness to be tested and to persevere.

Where is the wilderness?

Well, it’s not that hard to understand. Like the wilderness into which the children of Israel were led. That long desert walk where, with only enough food for one day at a time, the people were being taught to take the next step, to do the right thing, and to trust God.

The wilderness we’ve all known. Of all those seasons where it all seems flat, dusty and hard and we’re still expected to do the right thing.

Every season in life has those wilderness walks. When the only thing clearly before us are the responsibilities of the day - at school, or work, or family life. When we are expected to be faithful, and righteous and true, but what we feel, simply, is stuck.

You know what I like about this description in Mark? It’s the verb. It says that Jesus was ‘driven out’ into the wilderness. It’s a strong word. The effect would be even stronger if we could hear all the times the single Greek word used in Mark’s Gospel. Demons are driven out of ravaged lives. Death is driven out of a little girl. Money changers are driven out of the temple.

At the very least, we know that this was no easy matter for Jesus, either. For the Spirit comes upon him with great force, driving him into the wilderness.

But where Israel failed, where the church has failed, where you and I have failed - on those long, dry desert walks, with only the next step in our sight, Jesus took each step and persevered.

Where can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

Well, you can go into the wilderness, face the tests, and persevere.

And secondly, you can go to the Lord and answer His call.

I’ve mentioned before the simple solution C. S. Lewis offers to those who are having trouble hearing God speak. “Be quiet”, he says. You can’t listen if you can’t hear.

It’s a good place to begin in Lent. Listen. Turn off the radio, TV and Ipod.

Listen.

And in the wilderness, Jesus listened and answered the call of the Lord.

Here is where this brief passage is simply packed.

For when Jesus hears the heavenly voice, in the background a deep echo resounds.

An echo of the second psalm of David where the Lord declares his love for the King who will rule his people:
“You are my son; today I have begotten you” (Ps 2.7).

An echo of the suffering servant, who would bear his people’s sorrows, and take onto himself the wounds of their iniquity:
“Here is my servant [in whom I am well pleased],” says the Lord through the prophet Isaiah (42.1). "By his bruises we are healed (53:5).

An echo the people of Israel yearned to hear in their time. But what no one anticipated was that the king and the servant would arrive in one person. That their king would be enthroned on the cross, forgiving his executioners who spit on him from below.

You know, there’s another passage that may echo here, not as well known, coming from the apocryphal book of Wisdom. Ominously, it anticipates how the servant of the Lord would stand out and be recognized.

“Let us lie in wait for the righteous man,” [the wicked say to themselves], “because he is inconvenient to us and opposes our actions . . . Let us see if his words are true, and let us test what will happen at the end of his life; for if the righteous man is God’s child, [God] will help him, and will deliver him from the hand of his adversaries. Let us test him with insult and torture, so that we may find out how gentle he is, and make trial of his forbearance. Let us condemn him to a shameful death, for, according to what he says, he will be protected.” (Wisdom of Solomon 2:12-20)

The heavenly voice issues a stunning declaration, and with the deep echo of Scripture in the background, Jesus goes into the wilderness to hear the Lord and answer his call.
The call of Israel’s Messiah and King who will lead by a great, suffering love, whose integrity will rise and shine out of insult and crucifixion.

Why is our life so noisy and distracting? Why is the TV always on and the radio always playing. One reason is here. One reason is that we don’t want it quiet. Because if we could hear, we might hear the Lord - calling us to mercy instead of revenge; sacrifice instead of indulgence; service instead of self-promotion.

Where can you go when the great love of God upholds you?

As Jesus has shown us, you can go to the Lord and answer His call.

But finally, you can go into the fray and bring peace.

This is what I noticed first, and I’m sure it’s only a small thing. But all week I kept thinking about the beasts.

I grew up on a farm. We had cattle, chickens, pigs, turkeys, sheep, goats, dogs, cats, mice and rats. From the time we could walk, we walked among the animals. But we were also taught to be careful, especially of wild animals. The foxes mad with rabies. The mother cows, never to be fooled with when protecting newborn calves. Wolves and wild dogs, unpredictable and dangerous.

Usually once a year I try to get home to visit. One of the treats I look forward to is to go out in the cool of the night for a walk. But I don’t like it as I used to. Growing up our home was at the north end of our property and in the midst of the grain land. But for the past 20 years, my parents have lived in a new home they built, placed picturesquely in the pasture land. It is a glorious setting. But alone, outside in the dark, forming a ring around the pasture where the cattle rest, you can hear the coyotes, clearly and close enough to know that they are only a few hundred yards away.

Jesus goes into the wilderness with the devil and the beasts.

We don’t have to think too long, or hard about this, either. He goes into the wilderness and there he faces the danger of the wild animals. There he faces the subtler, but more infinitely more dangerous lures of the devil. And there the angels minister to him. There, in the midst of great danger, the greater love of God upholds him.

And when his time in the wilderness ends, the power that drove him into the wilderness will become the power by which he drives death and devils from the people they ravage. By the end of his time in the wilderness, the wild beasts have done him no harm, and a sign of the future, which God intends, is before us:
The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid . . . and a little child shall lead them. (Isaiah 11:6-9)

Where can you go when this great love upholds you? You can go into the fray and make peace.

The first pastor under whom I served was approaching retirement when we met. For many years he had been a faithful pastor in Hong Kong and China. In an intense period during the Vietnam War he was the Director for the Christian Children’s Fund in southeast Asia, responsible for the lives of 25,000 children orphaned by the conflict. I remember him telling me about hard experiences, including the rescue of a young girl who had been kidnaped.

And at the height of it all, he and his wife endured the sudden and unexpected death of their daughter, a bright, young Christian college student struck down by a vicious and fatal virus.

He is the one I think of who faced the tests and remained faithful over the long walk. Who answered the call to unselfish Christian ministry. Who entered the fray and made peace. And maybe because of his work with orphans, maybe because of the loss of his daughter, maybe very simply because of the great love upholding him, his favorite verse was from Psalm 27: “If my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up” (27.10).

For all those wilderness times in our lives, when the next step and the right thing is hard to do;

For all those summons from the Lord we’ve drowned out, that voice from God telling us that our lives are meant to offer his mercy in the world;

And for all the dangers in the world, all the dangers in our hearts, which paralyze our steps;

For all those times - we have Jesus - who remained faithful, who answered the call, who entered the conflict and made peace, and whose life is offered to us, a light shining in the darkness.

In this Lenten season, let us take the time to listen, pray and reflect. Let us follow Jesus Christ - our Saviour and Lord.