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August 26, 2007

Renewal

Preacher: Pastor Braun Campbell Category: Biblical Scripture: Luke 13:10–13:17

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 13:10-17
"Renewal"

Imagine opening your eyes, as if you were waking up. Your eyes are just starting to come open, and you realize that there's an awfully bright light out there, around you. As you start to blink, adjusting to the light, you notice that is seems rather warm. Coming into consciousness, it dawns on you: you're in the middle of a desert. You raise your hand to wipe your eyes, trying to figure out what's going on, when you start to feel a weight dragging your wrists down. You hear this metallic, clanking noise, the sound of the great chains which bind your wrists, buried in the sandy floor beneath you. The more you start to process all this, the more you realize that these are not new sensations. You begin to remember that you've been here for some time; the chains weighing you down, the barren land surrounding you. Your memories begin to dawn: it didn't always used to be like this. It was different, somehow. And the more you think upon it, the more it starts to come back to you. This was not always a desert, but was once a green pasture with flowing waters. These chains had not been there, they did not always bind you to the earth as a captive. But then it hits you: all this is your fault, your own doing. You brought this sad existence down upon yourself. And as you start to remember all these things, you see something - something out on the horizon. A shadow at first, it seems to be moving. Squinting, you can almost make out what... Ah! It's a man, heading directly towards you. As he draws near, there seems to be something about him, like he's walking with a purpose. Then he arrives, standing there, reaching out and taking your hand. And as soon as that happens, something changes: the chains are gone, and you are free to stand, to move about. What's more, the land itself has begun to change. It is no longer the barren desert but a watered garden, with trees growing and birds chirping in the branches. As far as your eye can see, everything has changed.

Now envision something that might be ever harder to imagine: you've decided to take up jogging! You've decided that you're going to go out and run and run and run, because it's good for you! You pick a pleasant day for this little jaunt, going out and moving on down the roads and trails. As you go, you can start to feel that the running is working and those endorphins are kicking in. But as you keep on running, you start to become - what is it? what is that sensation? - oh, yes - thirsty. You keep running and running (since you're already halfway home) and the thirst starts to build and grow, that tickle building in the back of your throat. As you near your home, you can feel how parched you've become, feeling like a dried-up leaf in the hot sun, your body crying out for some kind of liquid refreshment. Now, if you've watched any sports on TV or read any athletic magazines, you know that many companies would recommend that you find a high-powered sports beverage, a name-brand thirst quencher, to meet your need. But really, if you've ever been so thirsty, you'd know that plain, simple water would get the job done. A tall drink of water would make you feel rejuvenated. Renewed.

So what do these two scenarios have to do with each other, or with us? As we start moving towards fall, as the days of September rush down upon us, we start to gear up for the next academic year. Even those of us who do not have children feel the effects and pressure of folks ramping back up for school and everything associated with it. We might run the risk of running ourselves into weakness, into captivity, chained to hectic schedules of perceived obligation which seem to bind us and direct our lives. We might even neglect our Sabbath rest, the time set apart with God, the time spent here in worship, with each other, gathered around the cross to learn from God's Word.

Now when we come to our Gospel lesson for today, nothing really "out of the ordinary" seems to be going on. Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, the places of worship and gathering for the people, where he shares the message of God's word. But then something happens: a woman arrives, one who has been crippled -as the text more literally says: she was afflicted by a "spirit of weakness," something that had held her captive for eighteen years. So what does Jesus do? He proclaims freedom: "You are freed from your disability." He reaches out and touches her, and she is healed, then and there. She stands up straight and glorifies God in response. Did Jesus do anything unusual here? No - Jesus is doing what he came to do: setting free on the day of rest. He proclaims freedom and makes it reality.

In the Greek text, this verb for being set free is in the "perfect" tense. (And no, that doesn't mean that this tense is any better than all the others.) This tense describes a situation which took place at some point in the past and now endures as objective reality. The woman has been set free and continues to be in the "freed" state. We'll come back to that in just a moment.

The Sabbath day, on which this particular healing takes place, was an important day for the Jewish people. It literally refers to a "ceasing from work." The Sabbath remember God's day of rest on the seventh day of creation. From sundown on Friday until Saturday sundown, the people would observe this day of rest, gathering in the synagogues on Saturday to hear God's Word. Due to the strict legal codes that had developed over time, however, they were not permitted to do anything that might seem like "work." Today in the Christian church, we most often observe the Sabbath on Sunday, remembering Christ's resurrection from the dead, the day of God's new creation. We gather for worship, to praise God and thank Him for His mercy, to bring to Him our broken hearts and to receive the gracious gifts He gives.

Something happens on this day of rest. This Sunday, we welcome a new member into God's family through the waters of Baptism. In the water at the font, Jesus will deliver from the desert of sin. In this ordinary water, joined with his promise, Christ changes us and changes the world around us. We come before our God on this day of rest and confess our failure to live as His people, because He is able to reach out and remove the heavy chains with which we have bound ourselves, freeing us. The Holy Spirit rejuvenates us, as the psalmist wrote, so that our youth is renewed like the eagle's.

Being renewed, we are sent out into the world. Remember the perfect tense? As those who have been baptized into Christ's death and resurrection, Christians live a "perfect tense" existence. We have been freed and forgiven, and we stand in that freed state. And though we do still fall short, running back into sin, we can remember our baptism as we open our eyes each day, seeing not the wasteland but the new life God has given us in faith. We have been renewed. We are no longer held captive to our sin. We need not chain ourselves to the things of this world. As a Christian, you have the ability to say "no." In fact, it can be good and healthy to say "no," because that respects the limits which we need to set. You can refrain from over-committing yourself to hectic schedules. Don't give up the time in which God would have you rest, coming to Him on a daily basis through prayer and the study of His Word. You don't have to run yourself down to the point that you're so weak at the end of the day that you collapse into bed without a time to pray.

When you encounter another someone who is still captive in the desert, share the message of freedom with them, how you were made free in Christ. Tell them about the renewal which comes from the gift God has given in His Son. Invite them to return here with you, to gather with others on the day of rest to share in the renewal which God works here in his Word and Sacraments.

In this perfect tense existence, the chains have been removed, and our life is renewed.

Amen.