The light will always be ahead of us and until that light washes over us fully, we will see glimpses of it as the day breaks and the promise of Christ’s resurrection is born anew. We are never without light, we are never without hope, we are never without the promise of new life.

Though we might be tested by all of the temptations in the world, over and over again, we are given the chance to change, the chance to be better, the chance to pick ourselves back up if ever we stumble. 

In the symbolic act of having ashes imposed upon our foreheads, we enter into Lent a hopeful people looking forward to becoming the people we are called to be. We are called to serve. We are called to share. We are called to give our lives to Christ and serve God as the Spirit moves us. We are called to recalibrate ourselves always pointing toward God and it is in this time of Lent where we can focus on such things.

We are never without God. We are never without Jesus. In one picture, we see that to be true. In one lifetime, we might even experience the same.

The Plains in scripture are a place of deep, deep sadness. And they are also the place where we too can meet God. Jesus is on this Plain for the valley has been lifted up and the crowd see him there, face to face just as Ezekiel found the glory of God, the glory of the lord. In the valleys, atop the mountains, God is with us.

Because we love, we are free. And in a world serving division and hate and vitriol, that freedom is needed. In fact, it is necessary.

Friends. You are loved. You are seen by God and no matter where you are in life and no matter your mood, God sees you. Always. 

They passed by the seats of power and landed in a small backwater town in a land filled with gentiles. A humble town. A humble place. A city perfect for a child born in a manger and wrapped in swaddling clothes. 

God continues to flow in and through us, in vast currents of gushing love and in slow trickles of loving confirmation that makes us realize on our hardest days, we are  indeed... loved. 

We are blessed this night and always. God has broken through. Christ is born anew. 

With the naïve joy of a child, we await the Christ child and with the keen-eyed view of the adult, we do the work necessary to prepare for that arrival. In that waiting, in that preparing there is joy. Always joy.

We might not all experience the big dreams of world travel and building big buildings, but each of us has a purpose deigned by God to serve. To make each individual’s life easier by smoothing their mountains, by raising their valleys, by making straight the crooked, and making the rough ways smooth.

When the kingdom returns is anyone’s guess and the promise of that return is the blessing we seek. There is no sense in listening to false predictions when we have the hope of Christ before us. So, now we prepare, both for the kingdom and the Christ child. For the perfect and the good. For the arrival. And for the beginning. Once again.

Ultimately, Jesus is telling us, there is hope to be found in the destruction of our fondest dreams. It is hard to understand and if I do understand it, then I guess the question is why.

Great things can happen when hunger causes us to seek out that which nourishes us. And I promise you, so many are looking to be nourished in this day and age, and they are looking to be nourished by God. Welcome them here.

So that we suffer is one thing, but there is the greater thing. God is with us. Despite our human inclinations, despite our violence, despite our sinfulness, despite our mortality, God is with us. And throughout our mortal, un-godlike lives, God is always with us.

Ultimately, the question is answered, we know which kingdom shall come to pass, the one that will last, the one to which we all aspire. Yet throughout Jesus’ ministry there is tension between wishing to be freed from human bonds and Jesus’ professing of the greater kingdom to come. And that perhaps, is a tension we continue to see.

We are almost shamed in this chapter, we almost want to cry out as Peter did, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” What more do you want? What more must I do? I’ve served the church and do not think I haven’t noticed you all serving the church. Do not think your efforts have gone unnoticed. Do not think your welcoming arms have been filled without reason, the dirt from working in the memorial garden under your fingernails is there because you served this church. We dine together, we cry together, we laugh and sing and praise God together. What more can you want, Jesus?

Because even though the kingdom promises more, our investment in our community provides graces far more than we invest. That you can look to your neighbor and see that you are loved is so very beneficial in a world being split apart by vitriol or, even worse, apathy. That we are a beacon of love is evidence of God’s love and God’s hope for the wider world, a community of love born through the love of God and God’s son, Jesus Christ. If we allow God’s love to wash over us, if we allow ourselves to feel God’s love and then to share that love, then we will become that much closer to being “good” than if we ran from God.

We give up our lives so that we might live our lives through the lens of the gospel. We take up the cross, the burden of community so that we might live. And, ultimately, we take up each other’s cross.