Lent 2024: A much-needed sermon.

Sometimes the best sermons are found in the pews.

The family processed down the aisle in various shades of black and took their places in the front row. A family of five, the parents strategically sat where each child had a parent beside. The church was bright, but the sadness dark. The death was unexpected, so bewilderment swirled with the candle smoke along with sadness and anger.

Through it all, the parents held their children. One arm wrapped around her son’s shoulder, the other linked between her other son’s arm. The dad clung to his daughter, occasionally tilting his head to meet hers in the middle.

Stirring hymns were sung, wonderful reflections shared, and the minister said something, but I was too busy listening to the sermon in front of me. I thought about the time I sat in the front pew, when death’s cruelty overwhelmed me, but I also thought about all the other kinds of struggles we face just making our way through this thing called “life.” They leave us bewildered, sad, and maybe angry, but watching the parents sitting beside their children, I couldn’t help but imagine God sitting beside us. With an arm wrapped around our shoulder, with His head leaning in, somehow, I think God sits beside each of us. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it transforms it.

During this season of Lent, we’ve looked into dark places – places of sadness and pain – but it’s important to remember there’s someone sitting beside us. There’s an arm wrapped around us. It doesn’t take away the difficult soul-work we’ve been doing, but it transforms it.

One might say it doesn’t take away the tomb, it’ll just empties it.