UCC Church of Charlotte

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That Very Day
Joshua 5:9-12
2 Corinthians 5:16-21

Grace and Peace to you this morning.  Grace and Peace.

The Bible does not rush into new things.

Then again, neither does the church.  I was once advised by an older
minister that the church “measures change in centuries.”  To that, a
church member added, “and centimeters.”

Our story today is one of several about the people stopping on their
way into the Promised Land.  We might expect a mad rush.  Finally we
are here!  We have arrived!  But once again, there is a pause.

The whole book of Deuteronomy, before Joshua, is a pause on the edge
of the Promised Land.  Moses draws the people to the border of the
land of promise and stops them and says, “Let’s go over the Covenant
one more time!”  Deuteronomy is the retelling of the whole covenant of
God, the stories and the rules and the “Thou Shalts” and the “Thou
Shalt Nots,” so that people remember how they got here.

And here, in Joshua, they have crossed the Jordan, and stopped.  And
here the Lord commands Joshua to circumcise the people, for a whole
new generation has grown up in the journey to the Promised Land.
Following that, they celebrate the Passover.  They once again sit down
for the meal, for the recitation of the story, the reenactment of the
salvation of the people by God.  Once again the story is told.  Once
again, they remember their place in God’s work.

And the next day they eat the fruit of the land.  No more manna.

For forty years, for the full journey through the wilderness, they
have eaten manna.  It must have been monotonous to eat the same thing
over and over again for forty years.  It probably got old by oh, say,
the second day.  You have your choice.  Baked manna, fried manna,
manna pancakes, manna biscuits, manna gruel, manna crackers…  It is
said that the manna tasted like wafers with honey.  But forty years of
wafers and honey gets old.

On the other hand, for forty years they have been very aware of the
One who has sustained them, by whose gifts they have lived, whose
promise is fulfilled each and every day.

But then, the morning after reciting the story and remembering God’s
mighty acts of salvation, they ate of the fruit of the land.
And when they taste the fruit of the land, on that very day, no more manna.

Can you imagine the relief?

Have you seen someone return home from college for the first time and
taste a home-cooked meal?  I don’t think it matters how good the
cafeteria food is, there is something about comfort food cooked by mom
or dad that can’t be beat.

To taste the grains and fruit and meat of the land of Canaan must have
been like coming home.

This is an Easter story, long before Easter.  It is the story of
people arriving at the far side of the wilderness into a land of
promise, a land of hope, a land without Pharaoh and his cursed
brickyards.

The problem with resurrection is that it requires a cross and a tomb.

The problem with an Exodus from the land of Egypt, from the house of
slavery, is that it requires a wilderness.

The problem with our own times and our own problems is that getting
out of problems requires wilderness times, because the solution means
doing something new, and then waiting to see if it works.

Our times and our problems require a cross, because we must take all
that stuff that no longer works, that does not give life and that life
abundantly, and we must die to it in order to rise to what God has
called us to do and to be.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, that person is a new creation;
the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.
All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and
gave us the ministry of reconciliation;
that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not
counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the
message of reconciliation.
    
Like Christ, in our baptism we die to the old and rise to the new.
With Christ we are reconciled to God, with the forgiveness that
bridges anything that might separate us.
    
And in Christ our reconciliation is not just with God, but with one
another.  For in God’s forgiveness, we find it possible to forgive one
another.  In God’s forgiveness, we find it possible to forgive
ourselves.
    
This sounds all nice and tidy and Christian and good.  But it is a
messy process.  Before we can forgive ourselves and each other, we
need to let God in to forgive us.  Reaching out to my neighbor is
tough.  And the more that needs forgiving, the more that needs
reconciling, the tougher it is to reach out.
    
Susan K. Smith, pastor of Advent United Church of Christ, explains it
better than I can.  She says when we have trouble with our neighbor,
and we pray to God for forgiveness, but don’t ever speak to our
neighbor, we get it wrong.
    
And when we speak to our neighbor that we are having trouble with, but
do not pray to God about it, we usually get it wrong then too.
    
To really speak to our neighbor, to really practice forgiveness of
them or of ourselves, means we first need to open up to God’s
forgiveness, so that we might have it to offer.
    
To reach out, we first have to let God reach in.
    
To know the love of God and love of neighbor that Jesus is talking
about means first we need to know that God loves us.
    
We need to know that we are what God had in mind from the moment of
creation.  We are the one for whom God gave God’s self, we are the one
Jesus came for.  And Jesus doesn’t regret it.
    
When we finally get it, when we hear these words not simply in our
ears, but in our heart of hearts, when we finally say, “Yes, God, I
will even give you the shameful parts of my life,” when we finally
understand that our worst decisions and our poorest choices not only
can be forgiven, but they already are, on that very day, we no longer
wander in the wilderness.

That very day, we are able to forgive.

That very day, the old has passed away, and we are a new creation.
    
Thanks be to God.
Amen.