Messy Faith

Scriptures for the First Sunday of Lent

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Romans 10:8b-13

Luke 4:1-13

The basic proposition of faith can be stated simply: God is in life, and we know God through life as we live it. We don't worship a God who is impossibly far from us, a God outside the human realm. We worship a God who is among us, a God known as Emmanuel, "God with us."

How did the ancient Hebrews know "I am" was their God? Because "I am" saw their suffering in Egypt, liberated them from bondage, brought them in safety to a Promised Land, and gave that land to them for their use. The fruits of that usage — crops from the land — bear witness to God's faithfulness.

How close is our God? "In your mouth and in your heart," said Paul. You have but to confess to God and call upon God's name, and God will bless you with faith.

How could Jesus understand and verify God's call to him? He went into the wilderness, did battle with the devil, and remembered what God had told him. Jesus just needed to live as God had told him to live.

Faith can get messy when it is this close to real life. It's easier to form beliefs from a great distance, where order can be imagined and doctrines inferred. It is much more difficult to seek God in the chaos and corruption of the here and now.

This week's lessons spring from gritty locales and tell stories of God in life. God is known in the offspring of a "starving Aramean" (Jacob). God is known in a word so near to us that it changes our lips and hearts. And God is known in a high-stakes contest between a newly baptized young Galilean and the forces of darkness itself.

A GRATEFUL PEOPLE DEUTERONOMY 26:1-11

The challenge for any believer is to know what they believe and why they believe it. What happened that caused belief to master nonbelief? What changed that made a story grounded in faith seem more vital than a story grounded in, say, one's career or national pride?

Christians created creeds for this purpose. The Apostles' Creed and the Nicene Creed are the most widely used. They recount the nature of God and tell the narrative of Jesus, and in so doing they relate the impact God has on humankind.

The ancient Hebrews had a different kind of creed. We read it in the twenty-sixth chapter of Deuteronomy, a book presented as the farewell words of Moses as the Hebrews ended their wilderness wandering and prepared to enter the Promised Land of Canaan. Some have called these verses, Deuteronomy 26:5b-9, the "Deuteronomic Creed."

Moses envisioned a harvest festival after the Israelites' first growing season in the land of Canaan, a festival that would be repeated annually. The people were to gather their harvest, and then bring a portion of it to their holy place. They were to present the first portion (usually seen as the first tenth portion) to the priest. And then they were to explain why they took this action.

Their explanation took the form of telling their story as a people (Deuteronomy 26:5b-9). They were children of a "starving Aramean," namely, Jacob. As told in the Book of Genesis, in Israel's prehistory, the sons of Jacob went down to Egypt during a famine. Under Joseph's care they survived, and they eventually became a "great nation, mighty and numerous." But then a new Pharaoh appeared, and he turned the Hebrews into slaves and subjected them to "hard labor."

The people cried out to their God, and God heard them, saw their affliction, toil, and oppression, and decided to act. As told in the Book of Exodus, God performed great "signs and wonders," convincing Pharaoh to let God's people go. When Pharaoh changed his mind, God, "with a strong hand and an outstretched arm," parted the Reed Sea and led the Hebrews to safety. God brought them across the Sinai Desert to the River Jordan — a long journey that formed them as a people — and gave them the land of Canaan, "a land full of milk and honey."

So now they brought their offering to God in gratitude, both for the harvest and for the great acts of liberation and guidance that made it possible (Deuteronomy 26:10).

This creed explains what the people needed to know as Israelites. They were a people whose cries God heard. God had set them free from bondage. They would find themselves in bondage again, during their years in exile in Babylon. God would liberate them again and give them a land for planting. Note that God didn't promise them a powerful kingdom, but a land where they could provide for their needs.

They were a people whose duty was to use the land and to show gratitude for it. The heart of this creed is gratitude. It is not the might and majesty of Israel's God, nor is it some call to rule the world in God's name. The heart of the creed is Israel's duty to give back to God in thanksgiving.

Imagine how world history would have been different — and would be different now — if God's people understood themselves first and foremost as those who have been liberated and called to gratitude.

Instead of parading our excellence and right opinions, we would tell the story of our humiliation and God's response. Instead of presuming the right to rule others, we would plant our land and share the harvest with God. Instead of building bigger barns and grander castles, we would lay the first portion of our harvest before God.

Israel's ancient creed answers perhaps the greatest dilemma in which people find themselves: amnesia. We forget who we are. We forget our descent from the God of creation. We forget the deep love God has for all people. We forget that all we have comes from God. We forget our fundamental obligation to show gratitude for what we have received. We forget to be people of freedom in a world prone to bondage. We forget to go where God leads, rather than where appetite or bullies insist. We forget to do the work God has given us to do, and then be grateful for it and celebrate.

Instead, we allow others to define us — and to believe them when they sell us short. Instead, we take the credit for the good we have and blame God for the bad. We applaud ourselves. We accept bondage as the price we pay for getting the comfort and wealth we crave. We deny any need for gratitude, saying, "I did this, I alone." And we certainly don't intend to share our harvest. Rather than celebrate our good fortune, we lament all that we don't have.

It is appealing to define God by creeds of right opinion. It puts us in charge. Telling a story of liberation, on the other hand, a story of journey, harvest, and gratitude, has an entirely different impact. It acknowledges that we are not in charge. You can see why Moses laid two requirements before his people: Have a harvest festival, and give to God in...