Dried Up and Burned Out?
This week, when I looked at the worship calendar for November I realized that we are in the midst of four Sundays focused on giving thanks to God. Last Sunday, we gave thanks for the saints who have died and gained eternal life in the last year. And we gathered around Christ’s table where all the faithful of every time and place come and are united by him. This Sunday, we give thanks for Veterans, who have served and protected our nation and our freedoms. Would our Veterans please stand and be recognized? Next Sunday, we give thanks for Farmington Presbyterian Church, for the ways God has blessed us and others through this church, as we pledge our participation in Christ’s work through this church in the coming year. That Wednesday night, the 19th, we will celebrate Thanksgiving as a church family with a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with Thanksgiving worship following the dinner. And, the fourth Sunday in November is Christ the King Sunday as we give thanks for places Christ’s kingdom has come in our lives, a kingdom based not on human ideas of power, but on love and service to others.
The Scripture lessons this morning, though, focus on those times in our lives that Christ’s kingdom has not come in our lives…those times when we feel distant and cut off from God. This morning Becky read Ezekiel’s vision of the people of Israel. The history of the Covenant of God to be with God’s people was long. God’s presence was first known to be with the people through the Ark of the Covenant. They carried it with them. Then, the Temple was built in Jerusalem, and the Ark of the Covenant, God’s presence, came to rest there at the Temple. But now, the Temple has been destroyed and the people have been exiled by the Babylonians. They are now slaves in Babylon. Is God with them? They feel alone. They feel like they’ve been abandoned in the Valley of Death. Their lives and their dreams like around like the bones of people long dead, strewn on the desert floor under the scorching sun.
And Ezekiel says, The Lord comes like wind from every direction and breathes life into these bones, and they come to life and stand together – a vast army. The Lord sends his Spirit in you, and you will live and be settled and at home.
Those bones can’t will themselves to get up and get organized back together. Those bones can’t rise again on their own. It is the Holy Spirit that comes and draws them back together, a vast army, strong. When you are in the Valley of Dry Bones, whatever that valley might be, you can’t will yourself to rise again, but you can turn to God, call on God. The psalms of ascent, Psalm 121 through Psalm 134, give us words when we don’t have words to call on God, when we feel far away from God and are in a low place, dried up, and broken down. They are the songs that the Hebrew people sang on their way to the Temple to worship in Jerusalem. As they climbed the mountain, they sang about coming up out of the valley.
“I lift my eyes and look up at the vast size of the mountains—
from where will my help come in times of trouble?
2 The Eternal Creator of heaven and earth and these mountains
will send the help I need.
3 He holds you firmly in place;
He will not let you fall.” – Psalm 121
The promise is that God breathes new life into that valley of death and despair in our lives. But there is no promise that we won’t go through valleys of despair and times when we feel far away from God. Jesus tells the parable of the bridesmaids to the disciples to teach them what it will be like as they wait on his return.
He tells the story as he and the disciples are leaving the Temple in Jerusalem; this is right after Jesus confronts the chief priests. As they are walking away, he stops and asks, “Do you see all these things? I tell you the truth, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.” “When is this going to happen?” they ask, “and what will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?” Jesus’ response is that no one knows the time and the hour except for the father. Then he tells the story of the 5 wise and 5 foolish bridesmaids. Of course, the bridegroom throughout the New Testament is Jesus. The followers of Jesus will wait, just like bridesmaids waiting for the bridegroom.
Just like the Israelites were separated from God, the bridesmaids are separated from the Lord. Just like the Israelites experienced God in the Temple, and then felt separated from God when the Temple was destroyed and they were exiled, the disciples have experienced God in Jesus, and they will be separated from him.
The promise is the same – God has not and will not abandoned us, and God will bring renewal. We only have to wait hopefully – in Hebrew, the same word means wait and hope – and be ready.
The Hebrew people sang:
So I wait for the Eternal—my soul awaits rescue—
and I put my hope in His transforming word.
6 My soul waits for the Lord to break into the world
more than night watchmen expect the break of day. – Psalm 130
We only have to wait hopefully and be ready. That’s a big ONLY.
We are not terribly good at waiting or at being hopeful. Is it easier for us to look around and see a valley of dried bones and wonder if these bones will ever live again than it is to wait hopefully for the Spirit of God? Or do we just have more practice focusing on the valley than lifting our eyes to expectantly watch for God?
Just some of the top news stories from yesterday, could leave a person sure he or she is standing in a valley of dry bones. Gorbachev warns of a new cold war, US air strikes on Islamic State leaders, Ebola, more attacks in Jerusalem, another school shooting…dem bones are dry bones. One of my friends leads a preschool children’s choir, and she owns a skeleton. Every October, she brings the skeleton and teaches them Ezekiel’s prophecy. It’s a yearly deal. The promise is there – Dem dry bones get put back together, by God’s Spirit into a vast army…and dem bones are going to rise again and walk around. But, it hasn’t happened yet. Year after year, generation after generation, we sing Ezekiel’s prophecy. We identify with the Hebrew people, exiled, driven out of their homes, forced into slavery, the Temple, their church, destroyed. Dry bones. We are waiting.
In Jesus’ parable, there were wise bridesmaids and foolish bridesmaids. Both were anxious to meet the bridegroom. Both are up and ready to head out in the dark of night; they grab their lamps and are out the door. But, the wise bridesmaids take oil in jars to fuel their lamps.
Rev. Dr. Anna Carter Florence is a one of the professors of preaching and worship at Columbia Seminary. She tells about a lecture they give at the seminary to all the students on the spiritual life of the preacher.
“One time during this lecture,” she says, “we brought an oil lamp, the kind with a wick and real oil in the bottom, as a visual aid. We talked about how the role of the pastor, or the role of Christian, for that matter, is to be a light for others-“the light of the world.” Then we lit the wick and watched the lamp burn. But (and here was the rigged part), because there was only a tiny bit of oil in that lamp, it only burned for a few moments. We asked the students: what happens when the oil runs out?”
In Jesus’ story, the bridegroom is slow in coming. All of the bridesmaids fall asleep; their sense of urgency wanes. And, I think that’s a real word of hope to us – we all set out to meet Jesus and we all fall asleep sometimes. But, then we wake back up, and the oil is running low.
I don’t know about you, but I can identify. There are times my oil runs low.
Rev. Dr. Anna Carter Florence goes on to say, “It’s fairly simple. When the arrow on the gas tank points to empty, you are going to run out of gas. If a two-year-old doesn’t get a nap, she is going to crash. When you haven’t had a conversation with your spouse in three weeks that hasn’t revolved around carpooling logistics, your marriage is getting dry. If you have worked eighty-hour weeks for longer than you care to know, your relationships are going to suffer. It’s not really something any of us can avoid. There are some kinds of fuel that just are not negotiable; and if you eat junk food for twenty years, your body is going to let you know about it.
There are also some kinds of oil you can’t borrow from anyone else. Teenagers learn this, at a certain point; you can borrow someone’s homework and get by on the assignment, but you can’t borrow the hours they put in studying for the test. There are some kinds of preparation we can only do for ourselves. There are some reserves that no one else can build up for us. You can’t borrow someone else’s peace of mind or their passion for God. You can’t say to your friend, “You have such a happy marriage, don’t you? Could you give me some of that?” It doesn’t work.”
So when the foolish bridesmaids run out of oil, and they ask the wise bridesmaids for some, it doesn’t work. They can’t share. I can’t share my oil with you. You can’t share your oil with your husband or your wife or your children. You can let them see your light. But, you can’t fuel their light. They can see your faith, but you can’t be the fuel for their faith.
There is no way to borrow someone else’s faith. You can’t borrow someone else’s joy. You can’t borrow someone else’s thankfulness. You can’t borrow someone else’s hope. Each one of us has to have our own jar of oil, or the lamp is going to burn out.
One commentary says that the disciples would have pictured the bridesmaids with lights that required large amounts of oil – every 15 minutes they would need to add more oil. The part that is interesting to me is that there is no way they could carry a jar with enough oil to refill every 15 minutes all through the night. They just carried the jar.
Unpacking the metaphor, we can’t carry enough oil, either. We are just the jar that God fills. And then we have to constantly tend to filling the oil in the lamp.
We would run out. Our lives are lives of scarcity. We tend to focus on the dry bones of our lives and the low fuel on our gage. God is a God of abundance. “Disciplining ourselves in hope to keep our eyes fixed on that abundance, makes so much possible.” (Watkins) We carry the jar – we fix our eyes on abundance, we focus on hope – God supplies the oil that never runs dry.
Rev. Dr. Sharon Watkins is the General Minister and President of the Disciples of Christ denomination. She tells about her experience of abundant hope when she was a short-term missionary in the Congo. “One Sunday,” she tells, “I was worshiping in Bolenge. And it came time for the offering. Now in some of our churches, well, let me say it straight, particularly in some of our Euro-American churches, the offering embarrasses us a little bit. We keep it subtle and reserved. We take care that no one knows how much anyone gives – or whether anyone gives. But not in Bolenge. In Bolenge, it was during the offering that worship really got cranking. Instead of passing the trays quietly down the rows, a deacon stood up front with a bag on the end of stick. The pastor called for the men to come forward and give their gift. This was going to be a bit of a competition, he said – men against the women. The men came forward, and I noticed the bare feet, the worn clothes.
And I remembered that most people there didn’t make enough money in a month to buy an aspirin for a head ache. Yet they came forward to give. Then it was the women’s turn. Four women walked up to stand near the deacon, and they started clapping out a rhythm. Within moments, every woman in the place was on her feet, singing, clapping, smiling, worshiping, rejoicing in the Lord – and coming forward – no! dancing forward – with offerings. None of us could sit still as the women danced and gave (the Apostle Paul says the Macedonians gave like that, “their extreme poverty overflowing in a wealth of generosity).
For this congregation of materially impoverished people, trusting in a God of abundance, the offering had become the most joyful moment of worship.
But wait! There’s more! They asked the visitors to come forward. We did”, she says,” – in a more reserved manner. We put our offering in the bag.
But – wait for it – there was still more. The pastor announced that there had
been a hurricane in Central America. With much damage and loss of life. Now, said the pastor, “Let us bring forward our offerings again for our brothers and sisters of Central America.”
And so they did. So we did. All coming forward again. To give again. This
congregation of Congolese Disciples wearing their one extra outfit set aside for the Lord’s Day. This congregation now came forward in bare feet to give an offering for brothers and sisters in need. Trusting in a God of abundance to provide abundant life for them. Trusting in a God of abundance to provide an abundant life for others through them.
Abundance is not always a literal experience of material wealth as viewed in the eyes of the world. Abundance is also a state of mind. A state of grace. A state of trust in God’s promise of life abundant. It takes a certain spiritual discipline to learn to see the world this way.”
You have to bring your jar for the oil with you: a jar of thankfulness, a jar of hopefulness. So with the Psalmist we sing, “Remember when the Lord brought us back from exile? Remember when we were dry bones, and then we were reassembled and dancing? God has done remarkable things for us. And so we return singing, bringing home the harvest. Our lights shine brightly, and they won’t go out for we bring our oil jars with us, remembering and giving thanks for all that the God of abundance has given to us.” (from Psalm 126)