Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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All three synoptic gospels tells us that, at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, immediately after he was baptized by John in the Jordan River, he spent forty days in the wilderness having his resolve tested. Mark’s version of what took place (which I just read) is the shortest. Mark reports, in two quick verses, the essence of story: three facts: Jesus was tempted by Satan, was with the wild beasts, and was ministered to by angels. It’s Matthew and Luke who tell us the details: how the devil tempted Jesus (by suggesting that he make bread from stone, magically feeding himself and others, or that he might become a hot-dog and jump off the Temple to demonstrate how God would catch him, or that he agree to worship Satan in return for all the money and power in the world). There’s at least one sermon in each of those.

But there’s something very real, very powerful, about Mark’s short form: tempted, scared, ministered to. That rings a bell with us. Whenever we’ve dedicated ourselves to some great purpose (like becoming a Christian, or like marrying and being determined to stay married, or like setting out to plow a field and keeping one’s “hand on that plow” all the way to the end of the furrow, or like entering college and sticking with it until we earn that degree, or like committing to some physical fitness program, or signing up for a Bible study, or dedicating oneself to a holy Lent) -- whenever we have made a commitment to something great like that, our resolve has been tested, tried. We’ve been tempted to fall away. That’s our nature.

One way to deal with such trials is to prepare ourselves for them, to face them in advance. Jesus goes into the wilderness (Mark says the Holy Spirit drove him in.), and he meets Satan face to face. Every hardship he is about to face, in the three years of his public ministry, including his persecution and crucifixion, are on the table. And he walks out of the wilderness victorious. No one really knows how he or she would respond to serious testing of faith. But the best preparation is to face our spiritual enemies (the devil and all his minions) and trust God to give us courage.

We make the ashes for Ash Wednesday by burning the left-over palms from last year’s Palm Sunday. In that simple tradition the truths of our faith come full circle. On Palm Sunday last year we sang Hosanna and welcomed Christ into our city. Committed ourselves to a new king. Almost a year has past, and we pull out those old, dried palms, and remember the path we’ve taken. We’ve been tested, tempted. The world has worn us down. We’ve not always done well. But we’re still standing in the faith. Now (on Ash Wednesday, as Lent begins) we prepare ourselves for the next Palm Sunday, when we’ll once again welcome him. “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” And we’ll mean it. But, because we know our faith will be sorely tested again, we prepare ourselves again with the penance and sacrifices of Lent.

I noticed the wild animals in the story this year. Israel’s wilderness is a scary place. We would call it desert. It is dry, and rocky, and barren. Here and there a witherd-up shrub. Now and then a scrawny acacia tree. In the daytime the wilderness is hot, and at night it’s cold. And the animals come out at night. The foxes, the jackels, the scorpions and snakes. Spending a night alone in the wilderness would be frightening. And usually people don’t do well when they’re afraid. It is not just the tempting to worldly power, to fame and fortune, that leads us astray. Fear makes us choose wrong, too – perhaps more often. Did you ever notice how many times the Bible says, “Fear not?” Jesus spends a lot of time telling people not to be afraid, not to be anxious. Because Jesus knew that when men and women are afraid, when they are terrified of the wild beasts all around them, they get defensive, they circle the wagons. They no longer reach out. They don’t think they can afford to listen to their hearts. It becomes, “Every man for himself.” We can’t really love when we’re afraid. And love is the center of Jesus’ program.

It was a year ago last Wednesday that Mary suffered her cardiac arrest.. For several very bleak days we thought we would lose her. One effect that it had on me was that it concentrated all my care, all my worry, on her and on myself. I couldn’t be what I wanted to be: someone who gives himself to other people and cares about their problems. I couldn’t do it. I was scared. I could only think of me and mine. It took a long time for me to be able to look outward again. Fear is a real enemy of faith. The funeral ritual recognizes that: it zeros right in on fear. “Let not your hearts be troubled. Neither let them be afraid.” “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?” There are lots of things to fear, wild beasts all around us. Jesus had to face them in faith, and so do we. But face them we can, and helping one another, we can conquer our worst fears and return to outward-directed living.
So, as Jesus began this ministry of his, which would end so tragically, he was tested by Satan (as we are sometimes), and he was afraid (as we are sometimes), but angels ministered to him. Mary and I will never forget how wonderfully the people of Oak Chapel made our cares their cares, when we were too lost to take care of ourselves, much less help anyone else. They were angels ministering to us in the wilderness (when we were tested and afraid). Angels are restorative forces. They help us to recover our vision. They remind us of God’s wondrous love, even “when our way grows drear.”

The wonderful old southern gospel hymn says, “I’m just an old lump of coal, but I’m going to be a diamond someday.” An earthy image, to be sure, but you know what? A pretty good one. The ashes of Ash Wednesday start us at the lowest point, reminding us that are just a smudge of carbon, just a lump of coal. But the Easter victory reminds us that we are diamonds in the eyes of God. Lent carries us through all that. Lent takes us into the wildernesses of our souls, ministers to us while were are there, and brings us out alive and stronger in our faith. Won’t you make something of Lent this year? Don’t miss the chance.

Lent used to be such a dismal time. One writer describes the Lent of his childhood as forty days of “moan and grown” and “woe is me.” A time to “give up” something…that’s what I remember. And there is still sacrifice involved in Lent, and there is still the solemn recognition of our mortality, but we’re not afraid of these things, for sacrifice only makes us richer and death only makes us more alive. The wilderness can’t hurt us. Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. A friend and I ambled through an old country church yard, stopping often, leaning over to read the epitaphs on the grave stones. Each epitaph praised the one who lay beneath. Every one used words like “generous,” “upstanding,” “loving,” “faithful.” My friend looked up at me and said, “I wonder where they buried the sinners.” But, of course, these were the sinners. These were the lumps of coal that God would turn into diamonds. And, I’ll bet they knew it. They had been through the wilderness and come out unafraid.