Easter vigil. He has done great things!!

Easter Vigil, Saturday, April 11, 2020   (today’s lectionary)

In the beginning … a mighty wind swept over the abyss, over the waters, and God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light and God saw how good it was!

Each year on this night unlike any other, the world begins again. The Only Begotten Son is in the ground dead and buried (or is he?) and we are left to begin it all again, without our Savior, in the Father’s presence.

He watches us. He loves us. And he gives us light.

Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. And so it was. God saw everything he had done, and it was very good. And on the seventh day he rested. (Genesis 1)

 

We have found ways to praise God for his mighty works, and then promptly forget our praise. But again on this night maturing into dawn, we remember and commit again, we connect as best we can from our side with the covenant God gave Abraham. And we plead for the forgiveness so necessary for us to go on. Ask with fear and trembling for the forgiveness God so freely gives. Ask and receive the forgiveness God has poured out every day of every life before and after Jesus’ birth.

Bless the Lord, o my soul! And all that is within me, bless your holy name. May your kindness O Lord, be upon us! (Psalm 104 and Psalm 33)

 

God’s presence in Eden had no effect on our willfulness. We ate the fruit of the forbidden tree and God wondered, “Can I trust those guys? I gave them every power under heaven and on earth, with such small restriction, and they found that exact spot, thought it was a loophole, or perhaps they didn’t think at all, and broke through, broke down, broke their protection, broke my heart. Can I trust them ever again?”

Take your son Isaac, your only one, the one you love, the one I promised you, and offer him up in fire. His sacrifice is what I require of you.

What? Have I not acted justly, loved mercy and walked humbly with my God? Well, I guess this humility digs deeper than I thought. Just don’t tell Sarah, Lord.

On the mountain, in the land of Moriah, Abraham tied up his son Isaac and laid him on top of the wood. “Get up there, son. You are too heavy for me to lift. Please, this is your day too, son.”

Abraham took out his knife to SLAUGHTER HIS SON.

This humility will cost Isaac his life, me my pride and joy, but Sarah, Lord … she will lose all she lives for. Yes, she lives for you, yes, I live for you. We are human beings made by you, and you are our source. Can our Source turn his back on his children? No you will not, Lord. I believe in you and will follow the words I heard you say to me. Trust you, trust your words, trust the words I heard were from you and not the Evil One, trust trust trust. Kill, kill, kill.

Abraham! Do not lay your hand on the boy. I know now how devoted you are to God. And I will bless you, in your descendants all the nations of the earth shall find blessing. (Genesis 22)

In joy I sing these songs, in relief I write these words. Into your hands I do commit myself. With all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you. And I will call you Jehovah-Jireh. You have provided when I could not. You are the bringer of life, not death.

You show me the path to life and fulfill my joys in your presence. Forever. (Psalm 16)

 

The Lord said to Moses, “Why do you cry out to me? Tell the Israelites to go forward. Stretch out your right hand!” And the Israelites marched into the midst of the sea on dry land, with the water like a wall to their right and to their left.

What! What? Look! The sea is separating, the roar of water held back by Yahweh’s hand. Oh hallelujah, praise you Lord!

The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become our salvation.

Your right hand, O Lord, magnificent in power, your right hand, O Lord, has shattered our enemy and we live! Your promise rushes strong through all our fog and our despair: “Though the mountains leave their place and the hills be shaken my love shall never leave you.”

God will be with the soldiers and the mothers of his people. I will make your battlements of rubies, and great shall be the peace of your children. I will teach them, and in justice your people will be established.

You create, you bless, you help and at every moment in Moriah change my mourning into dancing. Let the music never stop. I will praise you, Lord forever. (Exodus 14 and 15, Isaiah 54, Psalm 30)

 

The days have gone dark over and over in our time. Our lives reflect in shadow the deaths of so many, we are lost again O Lord. We have forgotten our promises to you among the detritus of your floods. No more water but fire, I know that’s what you said. But we have seen tempests and storms of fire, we have seen floods and failure of crops, we have watched the invention of Gatling guns and mustard gas and atomic bombs and viruses of all sorts. Murder has accompanied our every step since Cain and always tantalizes us. But since the beginning Abel’s blood cries out to you from the ground! Eve weeps without consolation, deep into the night that ends only with the blood-red sunrise of yet another darkened day.

Are you thirsty, my children? Come to the water! Drink wine, drink my milk, eat the bread of life I always have here in my hands.

Mother God and Father God reach out their hands, and they are full of what we need.

This is my covenant, renewed once and again, and once and again, for my covenant will not fail you.

I have turned my face away from you, Oh Lord, for I believed that you had turned your face from me. I see now. You have restored my sight. And yes! Precious in my sight are the words of our Lord.

Seek me now, in this moment when your ears have been unblocked and your eyes opened. Seek me now that I may be found. Call me now while you are turned toward and not away. This is your consolation, my children. I am generous in forgiving.

I am ambushed by my silent thoughts, Lord. Words flood my mind and reek of accusation and assumed betrayal. I have turned away from you in that desolation and forgotten all your benefits.

My thoughts are not your thoughts,

Nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.

As high as the heavens are above the earth,

So high are my ways above your ways and

My thoughts above your thoughts.

But my words shall not return to me void.

They shall do my will, achieving its end.

My covenant with you will not be broken by me.

Not now.

Not ever.

I rest at last in the comfort of your words, Lord, in the shadow of your wings, in the cleft of your rock. My tears pour out not in fear and self-pity but in thankfulness. All my muscles relax as you rub my neck, run your fingers across my cheek, love me, touch me, hold me, whisper in my ear.

My strength and courage is the Lord, and you have been my savior. Even now in the land of my foes, while I have grown old in a foreign land, I can discern your grace and prudence, I draw out the threads of your wisdom. Like the stars may I shine with joy to my Maker. You trace our path, writing with your walking stick in the sand beneath your feet, and it is good. I am yours.

Your law is perfect and refreshes my soul. Your words are more precious than silver, more glorious than gold and sweeter than the honeycomb.

I have chosen the way of truth, I have set my heart on your laws. I hold fast to your statutes, O Lord, do not let me be put to shame. I run in the path of your commands, I RUN in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free!

The fear of the Lord is pure and endures forever. (Isaiah 55, Isaiah 12, Baruch 3, Psalm 19 and 119)

 

Again, again, again we have been scattered by the breath of your wrath.

And yet again will I rescue you, but I do not act for your sakes. I will rescue you for the sake of my holy name. I will sprinkle clean water upon you. This is what I say, my children: for the sake of my name I will give you a new heart and place my spirit once again within you. Your stony hearts will be removed and I will put my spirit within you. Then you will live by my statutes and be my people, and I shall be your God.

Like a deer that longs for running streams, I pant for you my Father. You are my living water, O my God.

In these long silent days of unsought solitude I am nearly desperate to crowd in with the throng and lead us all into the house of God. We would go into your altar and shout out our thanks to you, O God of my gladness and my joy.

Let all our praises, all your glory be known through all the earth.

With the multitude let me keep festival! (Ezekiel 36, Psalm 42, Isaiah 12)

 

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation, and uphold me with Thy free Spirit.

Those Lutheran words, the words of David. Outside all our locked church in nearly every place around the world but, within my own sanctuary, the rituals of my youth burst forth. There you are in the midst of them! In your presence, Lord, in the depths of your mercy and forgiveness, hear my prayer. You give my soul voice. All that is within me, bless your holy name.

My sacrifice, O God, is a contrite spirit.

Were we not baptized into Christ Jesus, and therefore too into God’s death? Buried with him we might also rise, and then live with Christ Jesus in the newness of life?

This new life no longer supports slavery to sin. We are free, absolved, let loose and rejoined to our original blessing. We have died with Christ, and now we shall also live with him.

Christ having been raised from the dead will no longer die. Death has no more victory, death has no more sting. Death is dead unto itself. Once and for all Christ lives for God, and we too must think that way about ourselves.

The Lord is my strength and my song! And he has become my salvation.

He has done great things, he has done great things, he has done great things, he’s so good to me.

I shall not die, but live … the stone the builders rejected has become the CORNERSTONE. And it is wonderful in our eyes!  (Psalm 51, Romans 6, Psalm 118)

 

On this night of nights, our Vigil ends as new day dawns. The simple fire we brought forth from outside the sanctuary, carried in and set at the center of our throng, begins to die. But we are finally and always … NOT ALONE. God’s words echo into the abyss of our joyless, empty souls, so lonely for even this single day without Christ.

“Let there be light!”

“Do not lay a hand on him!”

“Tell the Israelites to walk forward into the sea!”

“Drink wine, drink milk, eat the bread of life!”

“With the multitude, keep festival!”

Gleaming now at dawn, in our tired eyes we see God. The Son again pours into our soul. For this single night we have not turned away but toward, and God has consoled us in our desolation. We are at the tomb with Mary and Mary, and like them, we are undone.

Behold, there was a great earthquake, and the angel descended, approached, rolled away the stone, and sat down upon it.

“Do not be afraid!” the angel said, and smiled. The women were afraid anyway.

“Jesus the crucified is not here. He is risen. Jesus is alive!

At the angel’s bidding they ran to tell his disciples. But Jesus met them on their way.

Jesus also smiled. And he too told them, “Do not be afraid.”

Then Jesus told them more, instructions that set them free: “Go with my brothers to Galilee at this moment, and there you will see me.” (Matthew 28)

And they did.

 

In those days and even in these days of ours, when all the world is taxed, our Savior has returned to us. We are born again.

Buried with Christ in his death, we are baptized once more into his life.

Let us forget NOT all his benefits.

Precious in God’s sight is the life and death of his saints.

Amen.

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