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Finding Hope In the Unseen

  • One of my favorite ways to explore texts is through lectio divina
  • In lectio, you read slowly and you imagine yourself there.
  • And in this text, it's interesting to think about the sounds and the stories unfolding
  • John
    • I wonder how John speaks these words?
    • Maybe our first instinct is one of anticipation - it's Advent and Christmas after all
    • But I also wonder if there's frustration in his voice
      • This guy has been tied to Jesus since birth, and since then has been preparing
      • He's been in the wilderness, he's eaten locusts, been baptizing, and now has been taken prisoner, in what we'll realize is a game for those who are in power.
      • So yeah, he might feel a little exasperated. Is everything that he's done worth it, or has it become a total bust?
    • Of course, he's limited in his own ability to see what's happening, he depends on others to make that connection.
  • And so they meet with Jesus, and do you notice his reply? It's the classic "show, don't tell"
    • Jesus invites the disciples of John to take it in. To experience Jesus for themselves.
    • In that experience, they are able to embody Jesus' ministry. It isn't just a concept, but it is an experience. And what they experience is nothing short of miracle. The world changing in on itself. Redefining expectations.
    • But Jesus also reminds them that this work they had done was worthwhile. The John's hard work and dedication, his grit and determination, was a reminder of his commitment.
    • However, in the end, what Jesus is doing is far greater, far more, far more significant.
    • That's Isa too - a time of great tumult and difficulty, the prophet tells of a time when things will be beyond our expectations. Beauty and hope in places where they've not been seen.
  • So I wonder today, as you sit in these pews for the first time in years, months, or a week, where do you see yourself?
    • You might see yourself as John
      • You've worked hard, you've committed to Jesus, and yet with circumstances beyond your control, you find yourself imprisoned.
      • You may have a glimpse of something, but you've not seen the fullness of what was promised.
      • So you sit, at distance, wondering
      • So you might ask in anticipatory, hopeful ways, or you might ask in angst-filled, frustrated ways, but being here, you've asked.
    • You might also see yourself as a messenger
      • You've spent time in the wilderness, and you're trying to make sense of what's happening.
      • You're acting as a go-between for those who are in prison and those who are still out who did not have to world happen to place them in a cell
      • And now, you have a chance to experience resurrection. Life coming in places that looked like deserted spaces. New life springing up everywhere.
    • In either case, we are all encouraged that the grit and determination was worth it. There was no other ways.
    • But yet there is far more to experience, far more to hope for, far more to believe in beyond what is seen.
  • But more than anything, everything hinges on the experience. Tasting, seeing, witnessing, embodying.
  • Let today, as we find hope in the unseen, be a commitment to experience. No one can promise it'll be soft robes and Polaroids of the wind blowing gently. But it is abundant life.