It all starts wtih a story

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Luke 4:1-13 Deuteronomy 26:1-11
First Sunday in Lent

Stories. 

Who doesn’t like a good story?

Long stories, short stories.

Tales that get taller and taller the more time goes by.

Accounts where we aren’t so much concerned about the facts

as we are about the fact this really happened.

We all love stories.

 

I’m sure if you think about it, you could quickly come up with probably five stories

that you are likely to hear over, and over, and over again

at a family gathering.

 

My family does this.

But Torin’s family really does this.

 

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard the story of when Torin’s mom

was called into the principal’s office b/c he had said the anatomically correct word

for a certain part of the human body.

When he was 5.

 

Or the story about deciding which brother gets what when his parents die:

The joke is that Torin gets the money

Josh gets the house and everything in it

and the youngest, Austin, gets the coveted Christmas candle.  Just…the candle.

And that when that arrangement was made

they were all happy with that.

Even Austin.

 

And the funny thing is, they tell these stories as if

I’ve never heard it before.

They tell it, as if

those who they are telling it to, even though they were involved in the story

have never heard it before.

 

So many times, Torin’s mom will interject in our conversation

“I remember the time when….”

and I’m just guessing which one of the top 10 stories will this be?

And I’m usually right.

--

But the thing is…

I never stop her from telling it.

I never put on the brakes and say

“Hold up Bev, I know this one”

She may believe it is the first time she is telling me this

and I know it is the 27^th,

but that doesn’t matter.

 

Because she wants to tell it.

Maybe, she needs to tell it.

 

Stories are not really stories if they aren’t told.

Stories have no power if they remain silent.

--

“A wandering Aramean was my ancestor;

he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien,

few in number

and there he became a great nation,

mighty  and populous.”

 

These words of Moses, as recorded in Deuteronomy

tell a story of the Jewish people

It’s a story that is told and retold at every Jewish Passover.

 

When the seder meal begins,

the gathered body hears these words,

called the Haggadah.

“A wandering Aramean was my ancestor…”

 

This briefly retells the story of their

ancestor Jacob who went to Egypt,

was enslaved the people multiplied

and God delivered them from slavery.

 

and as we heard today when

Moses is fresh on the heels of this Exodus,

looking over into the promised land,

 he gives the people these instructions about what to do

when they enter that new home

 

They are to give of their offerings-

their first fruits—

but not just that.

They are to tell their story.

 

So at every Passover,

the story is told again.

Even though they’ve heard it 27 times

or more.

Because they want to tell it,

And probably more so,

they need to tell it.

“My ancestor was a wandering Aramean…”

 

__

 

We have entered into the season of Lent

this wild and wooly 40 days before Easter.

 

And for Christians, it begins with a story.

One about a wandering Aramean, yes.

One about a tempted Jew in the wilderness, yes.

But one the shakes us to our bones.

 

If you went to a service on Ash Wednesday, you heard it:

“From dust you were made, to dust you shall return.”

On Ash Wednesday, we marked ourselves

with ash to call us to awareness of our mortality.

 

It is a story that doesn’t sound like a good one at the onset.

The mark reminds us of two things:

you have sinned and you will die

(now it is a theological debate on whether each one of these is

related to the other, but

you get the message).

 

You have sinned, and you will die.

But it is more than that… 

The ash it calls us to remember our own story.

Yes, the juicy, tidbits of our story

as a sinner.

 

It seems to me that people fit broadly into three camps

when we talk about sin.
(and yes, I am making generalizations here)

There are those who love to talk about their sin

(or at least, the sin they used, to engage in).

They are the ones who beat themselves up

and others because they only

see humankind as sinful creatures

Who must repent, over and over again.

to escape the fiery depths of hell.

 

These people… have a story to tell.

 

Then there are those who for whatever reason

don’t want to think of sin at all.

Maybe they’ve been turned off

by those first people.

Maybe they don’t see the need to

call into question their behavior.

Maybe they question the concept of original sin, so

are quick to discount any sin.

 

These people don’t see the need to examine their story.

 

Then there’s the broad middle range,

that place where probably most of us sit.

We know we have sinned.  We know we hurt people.

We participate in systems of injustice.

We know we try to be better, and often fail

and many times succeed.

We just don’t feel it’s helpful to go on and on about it.

So instead of sin,

we talk about “brokenness” and “improvement” and “self help”.

We don’t mind spending 40 days in the wilderness of self-examination,

we just want to be sure that it’s only 40 days.  No more.  Until next year.

 

Yes, we have a story too.

We just don’t quite know how to talk about it.

--

So Lent gives us that chance to tell the story.

 

It kind of reminds me of an iconic type of storytelling.

You needn’t have gone to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting

to know how many of the gatherings start out.

After the coffee and the doughnuts and the scuttling to their chairs,

the people turn their focus to one person

who has been chosen to share.

That person stands up and says

“My name is ‘Carrie’  and I’m an alcoholic.”

and they proceed to tell their story.

 

No ifs ands or buts.

This is me, this is what I am, this is how I got here.

A very straightforward  but

a very vulnerable and difficult thing to do, I’m sure.

 

Telling the story in an AA meeting is a crucial part of the recovery process.

Not all get up and speak in front of the “congregation”

but they do have sponsors,

sober individuals who have been alcoholics

who are assigned to them to

hear their story

encourage them along the way.

 

Telling their story of struggle in some way

is the first step.

 

Programs like AA have at the heart of their recovery

twelve principles…twelve steps.

And if you hear the steps,

you may recognize that, it’s not only

alcoholics who could benefit from these principles,

 

But us, as well.

The 12 steps can be condensed into 6 processes:

 

First, and foremost, admitting that you cannot control your addictions or compulsions

Recognizing a higher power can give you strength

Examine past errors with the help of a sponsor

Making amends for these errors

Learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior

Helping others who suffer from the same addictions

 

That sure sounds like a good spiritual process for

many of us, doesn’t it?  In fact, it sounds

a lot like the movement of our liturgy in worship

 

We come before God, welcoming ourselves into holy space and call upon God to strengthen us.

We confess our sins

We ask forgiveness for our sins

We listen to the word of God and the gospel of Christ to give us a new way

and we do all this joined together with others who

are wandering, struggling, sinning, forgiving, and just trying to find that new path.

 

During Lent, we have the chance,

(justified by the religious calendar J)

to say “Hi God.  I’m Carrie and I’m a sinner

here’s my story”

 

And God is probably exhaling a great big

sigh of relief.

Thinking, “Wow, it’s been awhile.”

 

And even though God has heard your story

27 times or more

it’s ok.

Because God wants to hear it. 

But perhaps more importantly,

 you need to tell it.

 

Because that’s the only way you’ll experience Easter

is to go through Lent.

 

The only way to find resurrection,

is walk into death

 

Or as the English mystic Evelyn Underhill said

“No Christian escapes a taste of the

wilderness on the way

to the promised land”

 

Because, the only way to find healing,

is to name your brokenness.

 

And that starts with telling your story.

 

You don’t have to get up in front of everyone.

 

But, telling it to yourself is a good start.

God already knows it.

And while you’ve lived it,

you may not have heard it before.

 

So what’s your story?

I invite you now into a time of confession, where you can begin to tell your story to God.  Please turn to the back of the bulletin and join in speaking the words of confession.