God in the dark places; Sunday 27th February 2022

God in the dark places

When I first started thinking about this sermon and reflecting on the passages that have been read today, my first impression was that of light and clarity. We have talk of veil being lifted, of God’s presence being clear – of being able to see.

And in this last Sunday of the season between Christmas and Lent, when Jesus is being revealed to us, this makes a lot of sense. This is the culmination of the signs and glimpses we have heard about, all made clear in God’s words “This is my son, the chosen one. Listen to him”.

Our family have been fortunate enough to have had a trip to Switzerland for half term, and it made this mountaintop experience very easy to relate to. When you are in beautiful mountains, high up above the villages and towns, especially when the sky is blue – things are clear, it seems easy to feel close to God in such beauty and space, and at such heights.

And that sense of joy and peace stayed with me, even on returning to London, right up until I looked at the news. And then the darkness closed in.

And my question today, is how do we hold together the God of the mountaintop, with the God of the valleys. Where is God in the shadows and dark places, once we move away from those lofty heights and places of clarity?

How do we understand and reconcile the contrast between our profound experiences of God, and then our experiences when God appears absolutely nowhere to be found?

When we look at the news right now, it’s very hard to see where God is working – it is difficult to maintain hope and see how things could resolve themselves with as little bloodshed as possible. There seem to be a lot of shadows and dark places.

But it’s important to remember that God is just as present in the dark places, as on the mountains. What happens in the ordinary trials and tribulations of human life is just as God-infused as the experiences that occur on faith’s mountaintops.

We may have mountaintop experiences of God, where we see more clearly, recognise the love, joy and peace that flows from our heavenly Father, and we may not.

Such experiences are not guaranteed and not essential – the disciples didn’t become more powerful after the transfiguration – they couldn’t heal the demon possessed child on their return down the mountain (which is what Jesus does immediately after the transfiguration account in all synoptic gospels).

As Debie Thomas writes:

“if we’re sitting around waiting for more mountaintop experiences to mature and deepen our faith before we love and serve God’s children in the valley, then we need to rethink our strategy immediately.  The discipline of the valley happens in the valley. Finding God in the ordinary requires dwelling in the ordinary. There are no shortcuts.”

Jesus came into our world – came to the mess and brokeness, entered in and joined with us in the dark. If nothing else, this alone should remind us that God is always to be found in the darkness, just as much as in the light.

He is just as present, active, engaged, and glorious down in the valley as in the in the high places…the compassionate heart of God is most powerfully revealed amidst the broken, the sinful, the suffering, and the despairing. [Debie Thomas]

And somehow, we need to find a way of recognising this. Of looking at those events and situations that could so easily bring despair, and finding hope. Because ultimately our hope is in God, not in humankind – and this, in itself, should be a source of comfort.

Our peace, our joy and our hope, are all rooted in our loving God, Father and Mother, who entered into our world and reconciled us to himself. And if we can remember this truth and connect with it, perhaps the veil will be drawn back and perhaps we will be able to see God in the darkness as well as the light. And perhaps we will find a source of peace and hope, looking beyond humankind, with all our brokenness and sin, to something greater and far more powerful – the source of all life and love.

The Archbishops of Canterbury and York wrote this week:

“Peace…is so much more than the absence of war. It is a gift, and it is also a decision, a gift that must be received. It is a choice we make that shapes the way we live well alongside each other. It characterises our relationship with God. It comes into being by seeking justice.”

As Christians, when we find ourselves in the valleys and dark places, we are asked to follow Jesus, and enter in – not turn away. So how do we do this – particularly in darkness that can feel so far away and out of our control, like the situation in Ukraine. Well, the starting point has to be prayer. Paul writes to the Philippians:

“Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 4:6-7)

The Archbishops have dedicated today as a day of prayer for peace, and Pope Francis has called for Ash Wednesday to be a day of fasting and prayer for peace. We are being called to prayer and fasting.

So we start with prayer, and then we wait and see where God leads. We open our eyes and look for where God may be working – we look for opportunities to promote peace and justice. We look to make choices that honour Jesus and his teachings…..supporting those that suffer and are in need, and encouraging each other, not to give up hope, but to trust in God’s love and mercy.

And we keep praying, and being thankful for what we do have. And so, I will conclude with the prayer from the Archbishops:

“In these days of uncertainty and fear, we pray that each of us might again turn to the Lord and receive God’s gift of peace, work for God’s justice, know God’s reconciliation and love, and choose paths not of hatred or destruction, of violence or retribution, but God’s way of justice, mercy and peace.” Amen