Sometimes,
in order to understand a story, there is a central part of it that we can’t
miss. Think about trying to understand the history of the United States without
discussing the Civil War, or watching Star Wars without knowing the identity of
Darth Vader, or having a healthy relationship with a spouse and not knowing
what their childhood was like. Some parts of the story are so integral that,
without those details, the rest of the story falls apart. Well, that’s how
central the story of the Exodus that we heard this morning is when it comes to
our faith.
All of Genesis and Exodus have been building
towards this moment, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that the rest of the
Old Testament is a reflection on and response to this saving event when God led
the Hebrew people out of Egypt through the waters. The Exodus is the sun around
which the Old Testament orbits. Throughout Scripture, God self-identifies as
the one who led the people out of Egypt. And the Exodus is the antecedent to
the central story of the New Testament: Easter. It’s no accident that the
Hebrew word for “salvation” used at the Exodus is yeshua, which is the same
name that we call upon for salvation: Jesus. One theologian has said that “God
is whoever raised Jesus from the dead after having first raised Israel out of
Egypt.”
The
story of the Exodus forms and shapes us in faith, and while I can’t cover everything,
I want to point out a few important parts for us who worship and follow the God
of the Exodus. As a very brief recap of how we got here. Three Sundays ago, we
heard how the Hebrew people were growing in number in Egypt, and this was seen
as a threat to the pharaoh. So he enslaved the people and ordered the genocide
of all male children to slow their growing population. Two Sundays ago, we
heard about Moses, one of the Hebrew boys who escaped death, and his encounter
with God at the burning bush. God told Moses to go to Pharaoh with the message “Let
my people go.” But Pharoah had a closed and hardened heart, so he did not. God
then sent a series of plagues upon Egypt to try to soften Pharaoh’s stance, but
that did not work. Last Sunday, we heard about the Passover meal that
precipitated the final plague – the death of all the firstborn in Egypt, except
for those Hebrews who celebrated a ritual meal by which death would pass over
their homes. That got Pharoah’s attention and he tells the Hebrews to “get out.”
And so Moses is leading the people toward the Promised Land when Pharoah’s
heart hardens again, realizing that his labor force and economy are gone. Pharaoh
and his army pursue Moses and the people and that’s where today’s text picks
up.
The
first thing to point out is the pillar of cloud. This cloud had been going
before the people as a guide – showing them where to go. But something changed.
In front of the people was no longer a vast expanse of wilderness, but rather
the sea. And remember for the Hebrew people, the sea is more than a body of water,
it is a symbol of chaos and death. So in front of them is a blocked path – as many
children know from a song about going on a bear hunt: can’t go over it, can’t
go under it, can’t go around it.
And
then this pillar of cloud that had been ushering the people, all of a sudden,
moves behind them. I don’t know about you all, but if the person I was
following, ends up behind me and in front of me is something scary, my intuition
would be to turn around and trace my steps back to where the guide is. Now, this
is something that all leaders know – sometimes you lead from the front, and
sometimes you lead from behind. But leading from behind takes a lot more mutual
trust. The people have to trust that the leader is still with them and the
leader has to trust that the people will keep going.
Friends,
I think the Church as a whole and St. Luke’s as a Parish are at a Red Sea sort
of moment. Society has been becoming less religiously-affiliated for a few
generations and the pandemic only accelerated those trends. It’s sort of like
climate change – for a while, those who wanted to deny the reality of it could,
but after this past summer that has become an untenable position. It’s the same
thing in the Church. One of the key metrics that churches use is called “average
Sunday attendance.” In January 2020, ours was 165. Right now, it sits at 122.
That’s a 25% decrease. And it’s not just St. Luke’s – pretty much every
congregation, regardless of denomination or geography, is living this reality.
I’ve
lamented that the pandemic came at the worst time for us as a Parish. Leading
into 2020, we were growing and had a balanced budget. We had just had Catherine
Meeks and Will Willimon here in November 2019. We debuted our Beloved Community
documentary and were planning for the next phase of that work. Things were
going quite well and it felt like we had a pillar of cloud leading us
confidently into further growth. It wasn’t the Red Sea that we came to, but a
pandemic that halted our forward progress.
What
ultimately saved the people was the Holy Spirit. Exodus notes that a strong
wind blew all night and paved the way forward. Wind and Spirit are the same
word in Hebrew – so we can that it was the Spirit that provided the way out of
this situation. I’ve said several times in sermons that I firmly believe that the
Holy Spirit is not done with us. Now, one way of viewing all of the changes
happening in the Church would be to read this as a downward spiral of decline.
We could see the sea in front of us as the inevitable waters of secularism and
the army behind us as things like youth sports, brunch, or a work-life balance
that is out of whack where Sunday morning becomes the casualty as people use
Sundays to catch up on chores or sleep.
And,
if that’s how we view our situation, when that cloud seems to move behind us it
can be really tempting to think that we need to stop moving forward and try to
go backwards. That is one of the greatest temptations there is in the Church: the
glorification of the past. We’ve all heard that story – I remember when the
Sunday school rooms were full, I remember when the liturgy and bulletins were exactly
how I liked it, I remember when the Church never did anything to rock the boat.
The temptation is to say “I don’t see anything guiding us ahead, but it seems
like there’s something behind us – let’s go back.” Next week we’ll hear the newly
liberated people make that exact suggestion – “Things weren’t so bad in Egypt,
let’s go back.”
But
the way forward is ahead of us. The Holy Spirit is not finished with us. It’s
just that the changes that the Church needs to make are scary, like wading into
the Red Sea, and we were never going to take those steps on our own. Even if we
knew that the Spirit was leading us into a new era, we weren’t ready to follow.
So the Holy Spirit moved behind us to nudge us and push us forward. Don’t turn
back, we have to keep going.
What
do I mean by that? Honestly, I’m not sure exactly where the Spirit is leading
us. By design, when someone is leading from behind you don’t know exactly what
the destination is; you only know what you’re supposed to do for the next few
steps. So we’re preparing ourselves for what the Spirit is bringing into focus.
This is why our emphasis as a Parish right now is on doing things to make us
ready to respond to the Spirit’s nudges. It’s why we’re focused on intentional worship
and lively prayers: to be alert for what God is up to. It’s why we’re getting ready
for a really important stewardship campaign so that we will be resourced to go
when the Spirit says “go.” It’s why we’re focused on beloved community and
fellowship, because when the Spirit tells us to go, we go together, not as individuals,
but as a beloved community. It’s why we’re focused on engaging our community
more, to welcome all into our movement towards being a church that follows,
acts, and looks like Jesus. This is what it means to “wait upon the Lord.” It’s not passive waiting, rather
it’s active. It’s something like waiting for a child to be born – that’s not
passive. No, we are putting things in place so when something new emerges we
are ready to receive that opportunity with open minds and hands.
And
based on this central story of our faith, we know that there will be a Spirit-blazed
path forward. God makes ways out of no way. That’s what the Exodus proclaims.
Whether they be actively hostile atheists, apathetic agnostics, or a distracted
and burdened society that just can’t find the space for Church, when the
enemies of the Church look at us as think “They’ll never survive this decline,”
when it seems that hope is lost, when it seems that our greatest days are
behind us, that is precisely the moment that the Spirit stirs up the waters and
gives us a path ahead.
Psalm
124 is one of the many places in Scripture that remembers God’s salvation: “If
the Lord had not been on our side
let Israel now say; if the Lord
had not been on our side, when enemies rose up against us; then would they have
swallowed us up alive… then would the waters have overwhelmed us… then would
the raging waters have gone right over us… But blessed be the Lord! Who has not given us over to them.”
Even when we have failed leadership, or impossible decisions to face, or
untrusting doubts, or selfish stubbornness, or grief over change, or hardened
hearts, or fearful resistance, God remains on our side. One day, I hope and
pray that the Church will sing Psalm 124 afresh – If the Lord had not been on our side let the Church
now say, when the budgets were tightening, when the pews were emptying, when
the doubts were rising, then would demise been our story. But blessed be the Lord who made a way out of no way for
us.
As
is always the case, the story of the Exodus, of the Resurrection, of our
deliverance is a story of grace. Just before today’s passage begins, God said “I
will fight for you, you have only to keep still. I will gain glory for myself
over Pharaoh.” What would have happened if the people tried to fight Pharaoh? This
would be the final chapter of Exodus because the story would have ended here.
God tells the people to keep still. Salvation is God’s work. The people have
not earned this salvation nor made it possible. This is God’s doing.
I
know that I like to be in control; that’s simply the human condition. It’s
difficult to stand still, as God commands. It’s tempting to work ourselves into
a frenetic, anxious, and reactionary panic. The Church could respond to this
moment by trying to build a bridge across the sea with all sorts of “let’s
throw it at the wall and see what sticks” sorts of ministries instead of waiting
for God to move the sea. We could fight against secularism and modernity, but
that is a battle we will lose because it is not a battle we are called to
fight. We could attempt to reinvent ourselves, but then what would there be
left to save?
To
be sure, the Hebrew people, even if they did not create their salvation, still participated
in it. When the sea was opened, they had to walk through. But before that
moment arrived, they had to be patient as they waited on the Lord to show them the path forward. And
they had to be poised; ready to respond – meaning they had to be attentive and
prepared to move when the Spirit nudged them. And they had to be courageous to
step into the very chaos that had been so trying to avoid. Yes, they made it
through on dry ground, but they still had to walk through the sea. By grace,
they made it to the other side.
