This is my first attempt at starting my sermon on Luke 13:31-35 for Sunday. I have abandoned it, but I'm using my blog as storage. I know. That's not what a blog is. But, I do it sometimes.
Are we there yet? You may have heard this nagging cry from the backseat of the car. Or the question might have come from the passenger seat in disbelief that once again, you could not stop to ask for directions. Or maybe this question echoes in your head after you have safely parked the car in the garage. It’s the question that you ask yourself when you arise in the morning. And the question that tucks you in at night. Are you there yet? Are we there yet?
Today, tomorrow and the next day, we are still traveling. Never more certain what we are seeking or what our travels might reveal, we know that we must be on our way. We must move on. Scurry about. Get going. Doesn’t it feel that way? Like we are perpetually on this journey? Doesn’t it feel like our travels are endless?
This is how Lent always arrives for me. It gives me pause and makes me wonder: Are we there yet? It nags at me like I once whined from the back of my parents’ car. It feels like we have been on this journey for far too long. But, we are still waiting for something to click. We are still waiting for that moment when suddenly everything will make sense. That moment we will know that everything is as it should be. It seems like an impossible moment, but one that we believe will come. No matter how stubborn this belief might be. No matter how often we are tempted to give up, we believe that somehow our faith will explain the horrors and pains that we see around us.
Can this sermon really end up being about theodicy? Am I ready to preach about that even for myself?