Declaration of Dependence
(Free Version)- The Second Sunday in Lent; Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17
This week’s readings lead us to places of empty-handedness and disruption. But this is good news because God meets us there. We are dependent creatures, gloriously in need of God.
In our Old Testament reading (Genesis 12:1-4), Abram and Sarai are unable to have children. In the ancient world and throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, such a condition represents a loss of agency and significance. It is in the midst of their barrenness that God speaks. God’s speaking makes Abram into a people, a blessed people, and a blessing to the world. Abram—a random pagan dude, plucked from his previous life—is called into a radical disruption, sent on a journey, called by God.
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In our Gospel reading (John 3:1-17), Nicodemus is also invited into a disruption of life. Approaching Jesus “at night” is John’s way of telling us that Nicodemus is a man of the shadows, though it is not clear exactly what that means, other than he needs the light. In this story, he is confronted by the light. Jesus tells him that he must be born again, he must experience the complete reorientation that comes from above—by water and the Spirit.
It is Jesus who leads us to the cross, who was lifted up for us so that those who trust in him will have eternal life. Just like Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness and, by it, the people were healed of the snake venom coursing through their veins, so God’s self-sacrificial love is the healing of our great illness—sin.
This is the Christian experience to which our epistle reading (Romans 4:1-5, 13-17) points—God’s justification by his own “reckoning,” his own speaking. We experience the initial disruption of baptism, taking on a new identity. But it is also this disruption which we live into every day.
Such readings beckon us with challenging questions about our identity and formation. What happens when you find yourself in the desert? When all the chips are down, back against the wall, to what do you turn? What defines you? Who are you, really?
Psalm 121 gives voice to this longing. I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? The psalmist is quickly reminded that his help comes from the LORD. He does not need to worry about his foot slipping, for God does not sleep. He does not need to worry about sunstroke or madness. Does this mean that the Christian will never encounter twisted ankles, sun damage or mental illness? No. It does mean that these things do not have the final word. They are not our end, because God will preserve us from ultimate harm. We can trust that He is always faithful.
My hope is for my congregation to hear the declaration of dependence: you are dependent on God, made in his image, and, as part of his family; you are called to be a blessing. And this is the most definitional thing about you. In your brokenness, in your sickness, God has not given up on you. You have been born from above and God is making his kingdom to come and his will to be done in and through your life.
When we are illuminated by this, we can’t help but proclaim sin’s antidote, herald the kingdom of God, and proclaim to the world the one who pronounces blessing and has given us a new name.
Easter is fast approaching! If you or your church are looking for a guide through the season, might I humbly suggest my book: Resurrection People: A Journey From Easter to Pentecost. It’s written for the person in pew.
