The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
September 28, 2008

I think it is Garrison Keillor who tells the story of an annual family reunion, which goes something like this.   Every year, as each family arrives, the men run in to tell the others, "We made it in three hours and 47 minutes," or "Only four hours and two minutes this year!" Or yet another, "You won't believe it!  Even with a raging storm and tons of traffic, we got here in only 5 hours, 22 minutes and 15 seconds."   "Wow - you made good time."  "Yup, you sure did."  And that, of course, is the goal - to make good time.  To see how fast you can get to the destination.   I've traveled with some of you - and imagine you might fit in well at such a gathering - definitely having made the best time!

There are some of us here this morning who remember the weekly Sunday afternoon drive.  You would get in the car and simply meander around, looking at pretty landscapes or farms or houses.  Generally, this was a multi-generational activity, and those of us on the younger end of the spectrum didn't necessarily find it the most thrilling of activities.  But we went any way, with no particular destination in mind.

I would guess that there are very few of us here today who take "drives to nowhere," on Sunday or any other day, for that matter.  Between the price of gas and the hectic pace of most of our lives, when we get in the car the most important thing (besides avoiding an accident or a speeding ticket) is to make good time.  In fact, if we get behind a slow moving vehicle, we might even mutter under our breath, "Sunday driver!" (or something not so nice!)   Ever been irritated at a slow moving car in front of you?

But this life journey we're on doesn't quite operate that way.  Oh, as children we couldn't wait to be another year older, to be tall enough to ride a particular ride at Cedar Point, or old enough to drive.  But at a certain point, we realize that we are in no particular hurry to get to the end of this journey.  The destination isn't what's important.  Our real desire is for life that is joy-filled and meaningful and getting there the fastest or "making good time" turns out not to matter at all.

This past month we have been following the Hebrew people on their journey from Egypt toward the promised land.  Theirs is not only a life journey, but a faith journey as well - one to which you are I are also invited.  They are invited into a relationship with God, and they quickly find out that they won't be making good time.  Somehow I don't think 40 years would qualify!

The writer tells us that they "journeyed by stages - as the Lord commanded."  In other words, they weren't particularly dragging their feet, but were following the meandering way of God.  The journey itself - not the destination -- is so important in the lives of the Israelites that it is recalled over and over again in the Hebrew Scriptures.  God brings them out of Egypt, through the hand of Moses parts the Red Sea, and makes bitter water sweet.  When they are hungry God sends them manna - food enough for each day. Their most basic needs are met by the hand of a generous and loving Creator. 

Now they have camped at Rephidim (literally in the middle of nowhere), and they're thirsty.  Parched.  You know it's hard to find bread and water in the wilderness. We also need to remember that "wilderness" for the ancients did not carry the associations of spacious forests or lovely lakes that it often does for us. Instead, the "wilderness" of the the Scriptures was a desert wasteland, where starvation, dehydration, and attack by human or supernatural forces was a constant danger.  It wasn't a safe place at all. No wonder the Israelites are scared!  Even the basic necessities of life aren't readily available in the desert.  Even though God has saved the people from Pharoah, brought them through the terrifying waters of the Sea, and given them water and food on the journey before, they find themselves thirsty again. 

I don't know about you, but when I'm really hungry or really thirsty, I am generally not in a very good mood -- and I don't think I've ever been thirsty to the point of dehydration.  Well the Israelites are not in a very good mood either and they let Moses have it. Here they are in the desert with nothing to drink and they are scared.  Terrified. You can't live without water.  And not surprisingly they're angry too.  Can you blame them?  Those are emotions we know well, if we're honest.  Something isn't right with their world, and it isn't a small thing.  It literally is a matter of life and death. 

They continue to rail at Moses, "Did you just bring us out here so we could die of thirst?"  I mean, after all, they had plenty to drink in Egypt - even if they were slaves (a small thing that they fail to remember).  "Remember the good ole days in Egypt?"

Oh does their complaining sound familiar!  I've done it and I'm guessing you have too.  You're in a new situation, uncomfortable and anxious. From here the past you were so eager to leave all of a sudden looks pretty darn good.  "I remember when we lived in...." or "in my old church..." or "when so and so was in charge...."  Oh the past can look awfully good when facing an unknown future.

I remember when I was in labor with our eldest son, Scott.  All of a sudden it dawned on me that I was about to become a mother - as if I hadn't had nine months to prepare!  I was scared that I wouldn't know what to do.  I didn't feel ready.  I remember calling out, "I don't want to do this anymore."  Obviously, it was a little late for that decision!

And so it was for the Hebrew people.  The familiarity of Egypt might sound pretty good when this new place made them nervous.  There is something disorienting about being in new, unfamiliar territory.  Things don't look the same, or taste the same or smell the same. Words have different meanings.  If you have traveled in a foreign country or even across the United States, you probably have had that sense of disorientation and discomfort.  You know the old saying, "you can't go home again?"  Well, the Israelites really can't go back.  Their only choice is to go forward. 

Did you notice that when the people complain about being thirsty, Moses asks them why they are testing God. Moses has insight the people lack.  They ask for water, but he understands that their call is about much more than mere physical thirst.  Their thirst is theological. There are a lot of things for which we may hunger and thirst. But ultimately, as the people complain about the lack of water, it becomes clear that this is about something beyond the material world.  It is really a question about God.  Will God be there for us?  Where is God in all of this?  So Moses takes the people's lament to God, and God does not hesitate to respond.

In fact, God gives Moses instructions and tells Moses, "I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink."   And Moses calls the place Massah, which means testing, and Meribah, which means quarreling, because for Moses none of this was about being thirsty and having no water -- it was a story about the people of God questioning God's very presence among them. Though they never used the words, Moses understood that the people were asking the question, "Is God here or not?"

Isn't that the question each of us wrestles with day in and day out?  In the middle of our often mixed-up lives, that is the question, isn't it?  Am I in this by myself or is God with me?  In the deserts of our lives it is normal to experience fear and trembling, particularly when we do not know where the journey will take us.

I am guessing that every one of us here has been in the "wilderness" at some time in your life.  A move, an illness, a change in relationship, the death of a loved one - all can leave us feeling vulnerable and exposed, wandering around without any idea of where we're going.  Some of us here this morning may be in the wilderness right now, hungry and thirsty for peace and joy.  Is God with us or not?

I'm convinced that the Christian church in the 21^st century is also in such a wilderness.  The world around us is changing at breakneck speed and its unclear how we need to respond to the changing culture.  We are in a transitional time, when the church in which most of grew up, is evolving into something different.  Words like "missional" or "emergent" are describing new ways of being the church.  And I would be dishonest if I didn't admit some anxiety on my part about what that means.  I'm fairly sure that denominations as we currently know them won't be around for much longer.  But no one really has a clear picture about what the church will look like in the future. 

Like the Israelites, we're called to follow God to an unknown land.  Called to take a trip not knowing where we're going. When the journey isn't easy, is God with us or not?

And after the past few weeks, there is no question in my mind that our nation is also in the wilderness.  While thousands are still cleaning up from the aftermath of hurricanes, others are watching an economic crisis unfold.  Like it or not the landscape of our nation is changing.  Regardless of who wins the election in November, it seems clear to me that our future will not be the same as our past.  And once again, we have no idea what that future will look like.  Is God with us or not?

It dawned on me this week, that there are some important things that we can learn in the wilderness that are harder to learn when everything is familiar and comfortable.  When we are well fed, we have little motivation to change.  Transformation is slow. 

When we are taken out of our comfort zone and our very survival is not assured, we are reminded again of the fragility of life.  We recognize that life itself in every moment is a gift, not ever to be taken for granted.  And when we dig deep and acknowledge that our own resources are inadequate to pull us through we come to the most important knowledge:  we are dependent on God, who is indeed with us, in every moment, with every breath, in every situation.  In the wilderness we are forced to confront again and again the reality that the way to meet even our most fundamental needs come from the hands of our generous God.  And notice that the people move together - not individually.  It is a corporate journey as the people of God.

Hope is found in the midst of angst.  As we look back and claim God's presence and grace on our journey up until now, we also acknowledge that God has not brought us this far to abandon us.  Remembering God's faithfulness in the past, and remembering God's willingness to come to us in the person of Jesus gives us hope to say "yes, God will be with us in the future."

That kind of remembrance, particularly when it includes the faithful response of God's people is a powerful image of hope - especially when fear and anxiety about the present or future threaten to overtake us.  Perhaps you've heard the story about a church which had made plans for expansion that included a much needed education wing - and sure enough the estimates they received were far beyond what even their successful capital campaign was able to raise.  In order to go forward, they would need to borrow money.  Members came to the microphones one after another to voice their worries, some painting a bleak picture of all the ways the congregation's outreach was bound to suffer, hamstrung by debt.   Then one frail octogenarian made his way slowly to a microphone.  He told in a quiet voice of the day he and several others in the congregation had put up their own homes as collateral against a loan to build the very sanctuary in which the debating congregation was sitting.  The congregation hushed, then broke out in spontaneous applause.  The expansion was quickly affirmed, nearly unanimously.

Ultimately, this story of whining Israelites is a story of hope.   Hope not built on unrealistic visions of things that might happen someday, but on the memory of our past and of our ability to imagine the future, knowing that answer to the question, "Is God with us or not?" is a resounding Yes.