Help for the Journeyî

Baptism of Our Lord – Jan. 10, 2010 - Isaiah 43: 1-7 & Luke 3: 15-17, 21-22

Pastor Deborah Birkeland

"Children of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked with the cross of Christ forever."  With those words, a promise is confirmed, and an identity publicly declared.  In the waters of baptism, God claims us as God's very own, names us as a member of His family, and promises to never let us go. "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."  And, with those words, a promise to all humankind is confirmed, Jesus is identified as the incarnate Son of God. So, this morning we celebrate that in the waters of baptism are we claimed, named and identified so that the entire world knows to Whom we belong. Let us pray: Dear Jesus, as you have named and claimed us in the waters of baptism, challenge us to live our identity and purpose in you.  Move us from the font to the frontlines of your world, that we may be messengers of hope and promise in your name.  Amen. [From God Pause, Luther Seminary, written by Mark A. Grorud
St. Michael Lutheran Church, Omaha, Neb. 
Master of Divinity, 1979]

This past week, I received an email from my brother describing in depth a new health development that has altered my mother’s life. A few years ago, my mother lost the sight in her right eye to wet macular degeneration. She was told then that it would be likely that her left eye would also develop the same issues, so she has had treatments and worked hard to preserve her central vision. However, her Dr.’s prediction has come true, and now, as she enters her 82nd year, her left eye is progressing very rapidly toward blindness. My independent, self-sufficient mother is suddenly a vulnerable shut-in who can no longer drive, will need assistance in her home, and will have to adjust to being legally blind for the rest of her life.

Now this isn’t a huge tragedy, especially from her perspective. She feels she has lived a full life, has a cozy, handicap accessible home, and with help from the American Society for the Blind, can learn to manage just fine. Her goal is to remain in her home as long as possible. Her faith is strong enough to accept what life has brought her way, and she trusts the journey to the one to whom she belongs, her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. My siblings and I are very, very thankful for her attitude, her faith, and her perseverance. Her Dr. has also told her she could easily live to be in her late nineties as her own mother and several aunts have. Yet, we know that challenges lie ahead that will rely upon our intervention, support and direct involvement as my mother ages and becomes more fragile.

Many in this congregation are facing the same kinds of changes and challenges in their own families. Life is a journey, and to everything there is a season. Aging comes to all of us, illness brings limitations, and life, as we know it, ends in physical death. That isn’t a tragedy, but it is a reality. Because we are baptized into Christ, into his life, into his deathÖ.and into his resurrection, we are not people without hope, nor do we live in darkness. We live in ìseasons.î

Almost a year ago now, I spent the longest 40 hours of my life waiting to see if my comatose husband would wake up with brain function following his heart attack. During those hours, every possible scenerio of the future played itself out in my mind. Would I be a widow? Would I have a husband who would spend the rest of his life in a specialized care center? Would he recognize our family and me? Would he be the Dale we all remember and love so much? The outcome was nothing short of a miracle, and he has earned his nickname, ìLazarusî for which we are eternally grateful. But, what those hours taught me very vividly is that life can and does change on a dime. For everything this is a season, and it is in those more challenging seasons, where life is being diminished through aging, disease, illness or crisis, that we need to lean into our baptismal promise and trust that the help for this journey does come from our faithful God.

I often choose to read this amazing Isaiah 43 text that was shared by our reader this morning when I visit those who are facing seasons of loss, struggle or sorrowÖ.and especially great change. For in this text are words spoken to human desperation. Isaiah doesn’t say ìifî we have to walk through rivers, waters and fire, but ìWHENî we walk through the rough times, God WILL walk beside us and not let them overwhelm or destroy us! That is an amazing promise to hang on to when things get very, very dark. And they do in this world. The light that has come into the darkness and that cannot be overcome IS there when we need it the most, but we have to trust that it will come.

When I was a young girl living on a farm in northern Minnesota, a terrible storm came up one summer afternoon. My father was still out in the fields on a tractor and we became very worried about his safety as the skies grew dark and foreboding. You know the kind of storm I am talking about, those that bring darkness into the middle of a bright day, and winds into the eery quiet. I remember running out into that eery darkness calling his name and trying to find him. But I was quickly enveloped in total darkness, heavy, pouring rain, and winds that didn’t allow me to see a thing. I became disoriented and completely lost, frightened beyond words. Suddenly, a great bolt of lightening sheared across the sky and lightened the entire area with intense light. I could see the house, the barn, and my father running towards me, grabbing me by the arm so that together we could make it into the safety of the house. My father’s arm is like that gift God offers in this Isaiah text, that when seasons come that overwhelm us, his hand will be there to pull us to safety. And the lightening is like the incarnated son of God, who came into this world with such a light of truth and hope that no darkness can truly keep us from seeing that hand of God drawing us home.

Yet, while we know that God will meet us in our greatest places of struggle, especially death, we also know that we must live and walk this human journey in faith. In one of his amazing spiritual poems, Gerhard Frost wrote about this as ìThe Hardest Part.î He writes:

ìThe longer I live, the more assured I am that God leaves the hardest part till last –to stay alive until I die. I’m tempted to withdraw a little everyday, to retreat into myself, until I’m caught in the slowly swirling current of nothingness, where everyone and everything is less and less. I need God’s constant help to ìfight the good fightî and stay involved another day.î [from the meditation booklet: Deep in December: Meditations on the Later Years, Gerhard E. Frost, Logos Productions Inc.]

And then, Gerhard Frost tells the story of an aged friend who offered great wisdom when he asked the question, ìWhat is there, when one has lived as long as you, that is still more and more in this world of less and less?î And at 98, her reply was this: ìMy people, my home, my Bible, my baptism, my prayer book, my hymn book and especially God’s promise of eternal life.î That is what is still more and more in this world of less and less!

We all face the seasons of the journey in this life that may feel like less and less. As those seasons come, we are asked to LIVE our identity claiming this baptismal identity and promise. We do that by seeking help and understanding for that journey from others who can show us the way. For you see, God gives us community to support, sustain and teach us ways that offer his hand in the midst of those times that threaten to overwhelm.

Some in our congregation are stepping forward to offer their wisdom and experience with end of life issues so that you might find hope for life even in the midst of loss. Our Parish Nurses are offering a three week series during our Adult Forum hour in the next three weeks entitled, To Everything There is a Season. Members of this community who have walked a journey with a family member through aging illness and death will share their stories and their experience with God’s faithfulness. And others, who have expertise in hospice and palliative care at the end of life, will teach us that the end of life can be as meaningful as our birth and baptism into life.

Remember John Ylvisaker’s beautiful hymn, ìI was there to hear your Borning Cry?î He reminds us that God IS with us every step of this journey on earth. The one who has called us by name in baptism, is the same one who provides help and hope with flesh on! So claim your identity as God’s children and be uplifted, for as Isaiah 43 says so beautifully, ìYou are precious in my sight, and I love you!î Amen.

GUIDED BY THE GOSPEL: GATHERING • GROWING • GIVING