By: Dr. Steven K. Parker
“Therefore thus says the Lord God: Now I will restore the fortunes of Jacob and have mercy on the whole house of Israel, and I will be jealous for my holy name. They shall forget their shame and all the treachery they have practiced against me, when they dwell securely in their land with none to make them afraid, when I have brought them back from the peoples and gathered them from their enemies’ lands, and through them have vindicated my holiness in the sight of many nations. Then they shall know that I am the Lord their God, because I sent them into exile among the nations and then assembled them into their own land. I will leave none of them remaining among the nations anymore. And I will not hide my face anymore from them, when I pour out my Spirit upon the house of Israel, declares the Lord God.” (Ezekiel 39:25-29)
Ezekiel first wrote these words during a terrible time for God’s chosen people. The judgment of God had descended upon them through the invading armies of Babylon and the Judeans who survived that devastation had been hauled off into captivity. As refugees in Babylon, God’s people had certain freedoms to move around and worship and earn a living, but no matter how hard they tried to acclimate to this foreign land, it wasn’t home. Things were not the same. The people longed for the normalcy they experienced before the destruction of their temple and this season of exile that followed it, but nothing that looked much like normal could be seen anywhere on the horizon. That struggle gave rise to the exilic Psalmist’s painful question: “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” (Psalm 137:4).
Perhaps we can relate to those emotional struggles of the exiles of the Old Testament more now than we could at the beginning of last year. Sudden shutdowns, limitations of large gatherings, social distancing, and mask mandates have left most of us reeling. Online worship and parking lot services have been a great gift and we are eternally grateful for the Alfaro family and others who have worked diligently to make these efforts at worshipful connections possible. But we must admit, it doesn’t feel like we’re home yet. Things are not the same. We long for some sense of the normalcy that we so recently took for granted. We miss shared meals, hugs, the sight of the smiling faces of our familia of faith, and the joy of laughter that so often filled our beautiful buildings that for so many years have bustled with great times of worship, fellowship, and service. We hear reports of successful immunizations and eventual herd immunity, but the challenges of this pandemic still loom large. We find ourselves relating on many levels to the exilic worshipers who sang their songs of lament by the rivers of Babylon where they “sat down and wept,” remembering Zion (Psalm 137:1).
It was from this context of exile, grief, and longing that Ezekiel’s prophetic words came to the Old Testament people of God and now come to us. The prophet’s hope-filled words pointed toward a better day that would dawn for the people of God. Things were bad, but God would work to restore His people and show mercy toward them. Their sin and shame would be forgiven and forgotten, and they would no longer have to live in fear once God restored them to their land. This terrible season of exile would, in hindsight, prove to be a growing experience for them, and it would end. God was going to gather them from the four corners to which they had been scattered and bring them back home, pouring His Spirit out upon them.
I don’t know about you, but all that sounds pretty good to my corona-weary ears! Things are not normal now, but they will be again. It doesn’t feel like we’re home yet, but God has not forsaken us. Life will re-open for us, we will gather together again, masks will be tossed, and hugs will be given (Get ready, Chris Ramirez)! Where we have grown disconnected, we will re-connect. We will again come to be known as the “eaten-est” church in the valley as we break bread together in the beautiful, joyous communion of fellowship. We will smile and laugh again, together. We will eventually join in prayerfully with another Psalmist who declared, “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Even from our places of exile, in Christ, we look to the future with faith and claim the promise of God’s presence through the greatest difficulties life can dish out.
I hope you’ll join us on Sunday in our parking lot or online where we will continue to look at these hope-saturated words about our great, gathering God. If you haven’t been to one of our parking lot services in-person, come give it a try. It’s not the same but let me assure you it does my heart good to see you all. In the meantime, “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace” (Numbers 6:24-26). Amen.