Water for the Journey - Third Sunday in Lent - Exodus 17:1-7

Dr. Larson explores the parallel between the Israelites' grumbling in the wilderness and our own modern discontent, identifying our frequent complaining as a fundamental distrust in God's providence. Christ Jesus is the true Rock struck at Calvary, whose sacrifice provides the "Water of Life" through Word and Sacrament to sustain and forgive us on our earthly journey.

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Transcript

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In the cascading layers of noise in our ever-changing world, discovering a space for reflection and inspiration is increasingly rare. Welcome then to Faith Comes by Hearing, a unique podcast series that cuts through the clamor, carrying the timeless messages of the gospel into our lives with renewed relevance. Join Dr. Carrie Larson, the presiding pastor of the American Association of Lutheran Churches, as he ventures into the challenges of everyday life and the deep need to hear the truth that we are saved by grace, through faith, through Christ Jesus alone. Each episode is an invitation not just to listen, but to truly hear and embrace the good news of Christ Jesus for you and for all.

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We do these cycles. And once again, we intentionally survey the cross. Why did Jesus have to die? Why did he have to die for me? We'll examine the Exodus Scripture as inspiration as well as the words of our Lord as we ponder upon what does it mean that He is water? And that we're on our journey in the wilderness. Let us pray. Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen. Dear brothers, dear sisters in Christ, grace and peace you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who is the way, the truth, and the life. Amen. Most of us are familiar with the expression that life is a journey. And in our time, it's never been more literal. Many of us will pack up our lives and move several times across state lines, across oceans, and perhaps maybe it just might be across town. For me, I've Connie and I were kind of counting on our fingers how many times I've moved. I think we're at 14 times. And that's not counting college. I'm either a wanton man by the law or I'm in some kind of witness protection program and I don't even know it. Most of you don't have not experienced such a nomadic life. There are some wonderful exceptions here. That maybe you've never left this town. But you carry the dust of other places on your shoes. But even if you have lived in the same town since the day you were born, you're still a traveler. Life is a journey through ages and stages. Most migrate from singleness to marriage, from being the child to having the child. And some of us have crowns on our heads, and the jewels in those crowns are grandchildren. And some of you have even special jewels that are called great grandchildren. We navigate the shifting terrain of new careers, the evolving landscape of technology, and the bittersweet transition of making new friends while learning to walk the journey without some of our oldest and most beloved. And as much as we'd like the scenery to be pleasant, we must admit that the journey is not easy, is it? Here in the Old Testament reading from Exodus for today, we find the children of Israel in the middle of their trek. They are in the wilderness and they are struggling. They're tired, they're afraid, and they're thirsty. So what do humans do under duress? We gotta blame somebody. And they were not any different. Who is accountable for this misery? They quarrel with Moses, it's recorded. They even accuse him of bringing them out into the wilderness so they would die. Elsewhere it says, oh, if we would just be back at the flesh pots and the leeks and all the onions and everything, do you remember you were in slavery? Our journey through life is often a trudging through the same wilderness, isn't it? A wilderness, when we look at it by definition, it's not so much an arid land or land without water, but it but it reads as a test, a testing. A new house doesn't always seem to be all that great. It may feel like being in exile. The new stages of life brings aches of aging and the hollow ache of missing a loved one. New technology offers us tools that we can't live without, yet creates a world that sometimes we feel we can't live in it. New experiences shape the very foundations of our lives that we used to think would never change. And sometimes these new experiences that are thrusted upon us leave us questioning ourselves, our direction, and even our worth. The Bible records that the children of Israel quarreling and blaming and accusing, and they put God to the test. In other words, they were ultimately blaming God for their misfortune. We also must confess that it's easy to be a couple thousand, three thousand or more years away from all this and judge those children of Israel? How could they be so distrustful? Was it not God who dismantled the might of Egypt in ten plagues? Did he not part the Red Sea right before their eyes so that they could escape the Pharaoh's chariots? Did he not provide the sustenance of manna and quail? And already, three days after crossing the Red Sea, they had already received water from God. All this happened before their very eyes. How could they be so distrustful? We would never be that way, would we? But before we cast the first stone, we must look into the mirror. Think of what God has done for you. Consider the earthly gifts. Your life, your family, the roof over your head, the work that you have the pleasure of doing. Or the fact that you have done your part. And now get to rest from your labors and enjoy a little extra time that is just as busy as the next day. Or the heavenly gifts. Your baptism, maybe at this font or a font somewhere in this country, the holy word that is given to you on a regular basis here and elsewhere. The peace that passes all understanding when you dine at the Lord's table that we call his supper. Or the community. The community of this church. Seventeen years, friends, this fall. And let us consider his providence. Think of those nights where you were paralyzed with worry or grief. And remember how the Lord brought you through to the morning and brought you through the very thing that robbed you from rest and sleep. And if that isn't enough, he has delivered us from the greatest of enemies: sin, death, and the devil. And yet, and yet, Lord have mercy. When the throat gets dry, when the Wi-Fi goes down, when the car refuses to start. Don't we grumble just like Israel? Much of our daily conversation is a litany of complaints. This town isn't what it used to be. Work is such a burden, and so-and-so doesn't know what he is doing. The kids don't call enough. Nobody cares about me. While it is so common, we may even feel it's good. Oh, I'm not complaining, I'm just venting. Considering the scriptures, we know that every complaint we make, every woe is me we utter tells someone with an earshot that we are not content with life, that the Lord has given us. And these days, as I go about my work that you have permitted me to do, I am it is common for me to say there are no accidents in God's economy. Everything has purpose behind it. And even the evil that is done upon us, God has promised to make good out of it, referring to the Joseph story. So when we complain, what are we saying to those who are listening to us? Is this the core of our witness? Acknowledging our distrust of God, where should we go? It's here. Repent. This is the season of repentance. We take the account of the children of Israel as a warning. We repent for putting God to the test with a heart of discontent and trust that he will provide water for the journey. Return to the Lord your God. For he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. Abounding in steadfast love. Sound familiar? You sing it better than me. When Israel cried out, God did not abandon them in his anger. He could have. Instructed by the Lord, Moses, the servant of the Lord, went up the mountain, took the staff that he struck the Red Sea with, and struck the rock, we read. And from it, from that cold, hard rock came life-giving water for all. The shadow was a greater, this was a shadow of a greater reality. Christ Jesus, the greater servant, went up another mount, a mount called Calvary. And the staff of justice did not strike the rock, but it struck the very Son of God. Jesus was struck for our grumbling, for our doubt and for our discontent. And as he hung dead on the cross, they pierced his side and outflowed blood and water. These were not just biological fluids. It was eternal life itself. That water and that blood poured down through the ages, flowing directly into the font. Flowing into the chalice of the altar. And there we are washed clean at the font, and we receive the very blood of Christ Jesus shed for us. Christ Jesus is indeed our rock. And he gave the water of life. He was broken so that you would be made whole. He went thirsty so that you may never thirst again. So when you listen to the sermon, when you stand by that find, when you kneel before this altar of Christ, you're not performing just religious rituals. See yourself standing before the rock of Horeb. Your parched soul is being drenched. Your heart is being filled with the water of life. The fountain from the rock, the rock, forgives every sin. Past, present, and future. It washes away our guilt of complaining, the shame of our temper. And every time, every time we get boiled over because of frustrations, in spite of the Lord provides. So when the world makes you think, or when the world asks you, is the Lord among you or not? Or better said, does God even care? We're instructed not to look at our circumstances. Your circumstances will change like the shifting sands of the wilderness. Instead, we are to look to the word, we're to look to his sacraments. There is the wells of salvation that assures you that he is with you. That he is with you and to take the heat of your testing. And he will hold you fast. The world is a wilderness. And we are on a journey. And some days that journey just seems too long. We could never make it on our own. We're too prone to wander. Lord, I feel it. We're prone to wander from the one we love. And we're too quick to thirst. But the Lord is present. He has struck the rock. The fountain is open. And we drink to our satisfaction. Come to Calvary's holy mountain. Sinners ruined by the fall. Hear a pure and healing fountain flows for you, for me, for all. In a full perpetual tide, opened when our Savior died. Come in sorrow and contrition, wounded, impotent, and blind, hear the guilty, free remission. Hear the troubled. Health, this fountain will restore. They that drink shall thirst no more. Remember, you cannot dig this well for yourself. You cannot earn this refreshment. You cannot deserve or earn your way out of the wilderness for that matter. It is given by God's grace alone to a people who did nothing but complain. He loves you not because you're a perfect traveler, but because he is a perfect provider. And he will never, never leave your side. Amen. The peace of God which surpasses all our understanding guards your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Now and forever. Amen.