Sermon 3/13/2022 “Trust in the Lord”
Preacher: Jo J. Belser
Location: Church of the Resurrection, Alexandria, Virginia
Text: Psalm 27
Day: 2Lent, Year C
Several decades ago, a church project here in Virginia caused me to read all the diocesan council journals after World War II. I was looking for info about who became priests in the post-war years, not their names, but who they were and the problems and challenges they reported.
What I discovered was a post-war boom in priests who had fought in the war. It seems that people who have been to war—at least in that era—turned to God’s service in the church after hostilities had ended.
Undoubtedly, some of these warriors-turned-priests had promised God they would undertake a different kind of service if they survived battle. You know—those who had promised God they would become priests if only God would keep them alive. Some probably also—like the author of today’s Psalm, had put their whole trust, confidence, and faith in God, no matter the outcome of their war service.
Although written some 3,000 years ago when—we surmise—a young David was being pursued by King Saul, today’s Psalm seems to capture this sense of things being dire but nevertheless trusting in God.
Indeed, Psalm 27 has long been considered an antidote to fear. The psalm begins by reminding us that God, the Lord of absolutely everything, “is my light and my salvation,” so then—it asks—what and whom shall I fear. Psalm 27 reminds us that God has a habit of turning the tables, evoking in us memories of other times in human history, times when God favored the underdog, chose the younger over the older, and just plain surprised us at the outcome.
Lest we think that this is a prayer that seeks a favorable outcome, the psalmist tells us plainly UT-UH, that the only thing he sought was to “dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of [his] life.” This psalmist is in this relationship with God for the long haul, no matter whether his enemies devour him. This psalmist even counsels having patience in the face of danger, patience to “wait for the Lord.”
I don’t know about you, but I will admit to some anxiety about the situation in Ukraine. We are not directly involved in fighting, but the whole world is at war at present. We watch from afar as ordinary people bring their “weapons” of empty bottles (to make “cocktails of war”) and pick up stones to use against armored tanks and missiles.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?”
Ukraine’s situation makes me anxious. Russia’s situation terrifies me: child soldiers dead in the streets, covered with snow: a cold burial far from home, while parents weep in fear and anguish—or worse, not even knowing their children are in harm’s way. I feel for these unwilling and unknowing aggressors, even while those who wield power flirt with the threat of nuclear annihilation.
“Though evil doers assail me, my heart shall not fear…”
Can you empathize with today’s psalmist? Unlike us, HE seems to be directly in the midst of war’s dangers, working his way through to a confidence he will remain “in the land of the living.” His advice to us today is to “wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage, wait for the Lord!”
We know something about waiting for the Lord, don’t we, pandemic survivors? How many times during these past 24 months have we had to remind ourselves that God is sheltering us? Even those few of you who suffered the virus have been sheltered, as you remain still in the Land of the Living. But, as our Episcopal burial rite says, “living or dying, we are the Lord’s.” And the only fitting response to our existence is to “seek the face of the Lord,” which is to say, worship our creator in thanksgiving for life.
But let me be clear: Our Psalm today is not about God answering our prayers for rescue. Instead, the Psalm outlines a method of living with our fears while putting our trust in God. Our Psalm today tells us how to do just that: Wait and trust in the Lord.
We undoubtedly will have both real fears in life, caused by health problems or bad events or evil doers who threaten us and make us anxious. In times like these—perhaps in our present time, we Christians have (or should have) a more worry-free space than others. We can and do trust in the Lord.
Usually in Lent, we would be invited to turn deep within ourselves, to examine our lives, and to root out the ways we have turned from God. Our task this Lent, though, seem to be a bit different. Perhaps this year the better task might be to use Lent to reflect on our past dependencies on things and people other than God—the very thing our two years of pandemic and disasters have laid bare. Perhaps our task this Lent is to give these dependencies up for the false hopes they are. Perhaps this is the Lent we will truly seek God anew—not in our usual ways, but in new ways.
- Perhaps you will spend time in our Memorial Garden or nearby at Green Spring Gardens or in some other place of beauty, quietly thanking God for life.
- Perhaps you will decide there’s a new way you could help people in need.
- Perhaps you will join our online prayer group or add a time of prayer and scripture reading on your own to your week.
- Perhaps you will venture safely back into a pre-pandemic activity that gives you joy, trusting in God to be with you.
In whatever ways you are “spending” Lent this year, “be strong, and let your heart take courage.” God’s got this.
