Grumbling into Hope

A reservoir

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom
May 11, 2020, Commemoration of Johann Arndt And Jacob Böhm
Exodus 17:1–7;Psalm 119:137–144; Mark 6:45-52

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I don’t know about you all, but I love the stories of the Israelites grumbling in the wilderness. They are so real. So human. They sound just like any long family road trip. Or our own internal monologues on days that just are not going the way we had hoped. Today we get the Israelites complaining that they don’t have enough to drink water. Recently in our Morning Prayer readings we got them talking about how slavery in Egypt was better because they had fish and cucumbers. Ah yes, I bet we have all done that. We have wished to go back, we have wished for comfort and familiarity, even when it was miserable - merely because it was a known entity.

Now, of course, we should give the Israelites some credit for asking for water. I mean, water is a necessity of life. We cannot live for long without it. They were not just asking for caviar or complaining that the soup wasn’t hot enough. They were desperate for survival. They were fearful. They had lost their perspective.

That is something else I love about these stories. That is part of why they resonate. If I find myself in a place of worry and fear, in my own places of grumbling and frustration, it is because I too have lost my perspective. My world has shrunk in on itself. I am only aware of my own needs, my own emotions, my own pain. It can feel frantic because I think I am alone, and I have to get myself out of it all by myself. Yet, nothing is further from the truth. I am not alone. The Israelites were not alone. They had each other. They had Moses. And God was with them. Oh. Right. We are not alone. Ever.

It is easy for us to forget that all important truth. Pain, struggle, fear can all feel overwhelming at times. These are indeed days when it is easy to lose our perspective. Like the Israelites we are wandering in a wilderness. The future seems uncertain, and there are moments when our very survival seems unsure. We have been, sadly, regularly reminded that these are perilous times.

That can shrink our vision. They can make us lose sight of the abundance of God’s love that is always present in our lives, if we are paying attention. God is indeed present to us each and every step of the way. Johann and Jacob, the mystics we remember today, remind us that God is indeed present in our lives, evident in the simple things, like the beauty of a sunbeam.

I hope that you can hang on to that knowledge in these days. I hope that even in the moments where your perspective has narrowed, even when the fear and sadness are very present, that somewhere in the back of your mind, in the depths of your heart, there is niggling reminder that there is more. May we see God in the beauty of a sunbeam. May we hear God in the voices of our friends, in the voices of loved ones, who gently remind us to widen our vision. Those who remind us that we are not alone. Who remind us to trust in what we know is true. God is with us. What we need is here. We are blessed with sustenance for our bodies and our souls. This wilderness may be longer and more challenging than we ever would have imagined. And yet we will not find hope and courage if we focus only on what is missing or what we wish were true.

Hope is found in letting go of a desire for everything to go as planned. Courage is found in trusting that we do not journey alone. God is with us. We have each other. Let us hold that truth together in our hearts, today and always. Amen.