Introduction

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Oct. 24-25, 2009, the weekend of the Festival of the Reformation in the churches of the Augsburg Confession.

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Readings

Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 46
Romans 3:19-28
John 8:31-36

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Prayer

Long ago, O God, you spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets. Now in these last days, make us listen as you speak to us by your Son. Amen. (based on Hebrews 1:1-2, NRSV)

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Message

Do you remember taking car trips
when you were a kid?
My brothers and I sat three across
in the back seat.
Each of us jealously guarded his personal space.
I used the ridges in the vinyl seat
to mark off where my space began
and their space ended.
And the worst of all
was to be the one sitting in the middle,
straddling the big driveshaft hump
that ran down the center
of our Rambler station wagon,
with no flat floor for your feet.

In the midst of all of that comfort and joy,
we naturally called out every few miles,
“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

Mom and Dad were pretty patient,
but eventually Dad would use the rearview mirror
that gave him the superhero ability
to look each of us in the eye,
no matter where we were sitting.
By the power of his glance,
he inspired us to silent contemplation
of the scenery passing by in the car windows.

Eventually, we did get there–
wherever there was.
We’d get out of the car,
stretch our legs,
and elbow-jab one another,
just because we were brothers.

There are times when our life now
as God’s people in his Church
feels a lot like riding in the backseat
of a white 1966 Rambler station wagon
with brown vinyl seats, no air conditioning,
and an AM radio with knobs and buttons.

We are all together on the road,
heading somewhere.
It must be important for us to get there,
because Father is driving.

“Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

And he looks at us in the rearview mirror.
For a few minutes we are quiet
and then I feel your elbow
straying into the airspace
defined by those vinyl ridges,
preparing to encroach into my territory,
space I’ve claimed after intense negotiations.

And so I sit a little broader
and make sure to hold my legs
straight with my space’s borders
so that I can fill my fair share of the seat.
We each do the same.

But then, even though we try so hard
to ignore it, we cannot.
So we look up and we see our Father’s eyes
gazing at us in the rearview mirror.
He never blinks.
And we stand down along our borders.
It’s not peace, but at least it’s a ceasefire along our DMZ.
That’s the way we ride together in the Church.

“Are we there yet?”
God’s people have been asking that question
almost from the beginning.

How long did Israel wander in the wilderness
on her trek to the promised land,
before the people called out to Moses,
“Are we there yet?”

How long did the disciples walk behind Jesus,
trailing him in the dust kicked up by his sandals,
making their way between Galilean towns,
listening to him teach and preach,
watching him heal and work miracles,
before they asked their would-be king,
“Are we there yet?”

What went on in the struggles
between Martin Luther and Pope Leo X?
On one side of a line sat the Augustinian monk,
plagued by his Anfechtungen, his bouts of doubt,
and spurred by them to seek a gracious God.
And on the other side sat the Pope and the Church,
caught in complicated geopolitics and economics.
They defended the practice of selling indulgences
that reduced the punishment for forgiven sins.
Why could they not work out their differences
and finish the trip side-by-side in the back seat?
Were the differences really irreconcilable,
or was it all politics and stubbornness?
“Are we there yet?”

And how many times
have we in the Church grown impatient
with the path of service and sacrifice
laid out for us by our crucified and reigning Lord?
How often have we wanted
to get beyond the waiting and watching,
to move past the penitence and preparation,
and say, “Here we are. This is good, good enough.
Let’s be done with it, call it a success”?
And so we cry out to God,
“Are we there yet?”

This is what we ask,
this is what we say as we join our voices with the throngs
who have gone before us in the faith,
our brothers and sisters
both in belief and in doubt,
in obedience and in rebellion.

And like the patient Father that he is,
our heavenly Father says,
“No, we are not there yet.
We are on the way.
But while we are on the way,
let me sit with you in the back seat.
I’ll take the middle, I don’t mind.”

And so we scoot over a little to each side,
and open a space over the hump,
and our brother, Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father,
sits with us in the back seat
of the old station wagon of the Church.

No, we are not there yet,
but, as Jeremiah tells us, God promises,
“The days are surely coming….” (Jeremiah 31:31a, NRSV)

And when those days come,
God will make a new covenant with us.
He will forgive our iniquity
and forget our sins.
And he will be our God
and we–all of us together–will be his people. (see Jeremiah 31:33-34, NRSV)

“The days are surely coming” (Jeremiah 31:31a, NRSV)
when we won’t need rules
about whose space begins at this little mark on the seat.
We will have all the space we need, because we–
with the law written in our hearts by God’s hand–
will make room for one another gladly and gratefully.

“The days are surely coming” (Jeremiah 31:31a, NRSV)
when we will no longer
spend time studying the catechism
and questioning our beliefs
and wondering about our vocations.
These are the tasks we shoulder here and now
as we travel in faith,
carrying out the interim ministry
of our Christian life in this world.

But on that Day, we will have arrived,
and we will live not by faith
but by seeing clearly the God who gathers us around him,
as Jeremiah says for the Lord,
“…for they shall all know me,
from the least of them to the greatest.” (Jeremiah 31:34b, NRSV)

“The days are surely coming” (Jeremiah 31:31a, NRSV)
when we won’t wonder
whether we are there yet,
because we will look all around us
and know by the scenery of heaven laid out before us,
that our journey is over and we have arrived
at our final and blessed destination
in the kingdom of God.

“Are we there yet?”
“No, but we are on the way.
And don’t worry, ‘The days are surely coming,’ (Jeremiah 31:31a, NRSV)
the days when we “will know the truth,
and the truth will make [us] free,” (John 8:32, NRSV)
the days when we will join our voices
with God’s servants of every time and every place (see “Eucharistic Prayer,” LBW pp.90-91)
and sing together, ‘The Lord of hosts is with us,
the God of Jacob is our refuge.’” (Psalm 46:7, 11, NRSV)

“Are we there yet?”
No, but God is here with you and me.
The Father is driving,
the Son is sitting with us in the middle of the back seat,
and the Spirit is reading the map and giving trustworthy directions.
Our trip together is in God’s gracious hands. Amen.