Rev Christine preached this sermon on Sunday 21 June. Here it is for you again:
- Genesis 21: 8-21
- Romans 6: 1b-11
- Matthew 10: 24-39
Today’s readings are not easy and can be rather sensitive, much like the talk Helen gave on Thursday evening about her visit to Auschwitz/Birkenau, but in a very different way.
The readings speak of family conflict, rejection, fear, suffering, and the cost of discipleship. They do not offer a simple fairy-tale ending, nor do they give us easy answers. In fact, they may leave us with more questions than answers. Yet, if we look closely, one theme shines through them all: hope. God is always present, though perhaps not in the way we expect, and he does not abandon those who find themselves in the wilderness or in need.
Many of us will have known times when there seems to be no answer and no light at the end of the tunnel. My mum used to say, cheerfully, “There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.” I struggled with that for a long time, until I came to realise that the light is God’s, the light of hope.
The story from Genesis about Hagar is a difficult one. I always feel sorry for everyone involved, and it is natural to wonder why God allowed it to happen. Yet the story also reminds us that God’s purposes are often beyond our understanding, and that he can bring hope even out of painful and confusing situations.
Hagar’s story is one of a family torn apart by jealousy, insecurity, and fear. Abraham must have been deeply distressed. Hagar, the servant girl once given to him by Sarah so that he might have children, now finds herself sent away with her son, Ishmael. Abraham gives them bread and water, but when the water runs out, Hagar’s hope runs out too. Unable to bear watching her son suffer, she sits at a distance and weeps.
It is a scene of utter helplessness, and that helplessness is something many people recognise in our broken world. It is also something we should bring before God in prayer.
We live in a world where people experience family breakdown, exclusion, grief, loneliness, unemployment, illness, and uncertainty. There are many forms of helplessness, and we do not need to name them all to know that they are real, but we do need to remember the power of prayer, of love and of hope.
Hagar’s story reminds us that the Bible is not afraid of human pain. Scripture does not pretend that faithful people are spared suffering.
And the good news in Hagar’s story is this: God sees her.
Long before anyone else notices her, God notices.
When everyone else seems to have written her story off, God remains with her and hears her cry.
The angel says, “Do not be afraid,” words we hear Jesus say to his disciples in the Gospel, “for God has heard the voice of the boy.”
Then comes one of the most beautiful moments in Scripture: “God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water.” An answer to her prayers.
The well was probably already there, but in her despair Hagar had not been able to see it.
What changed was that God opened her eyes to see the provision that had been present all along and hope must have sprung into her heart.
How often is that true in our own lives? We can become so overwhelmed by fear, anxiety, or grief that we see only what is lost. We cannot imagine a future. We cannot see the light that points to the way out, and hope begins to fade.
Yet God always remains by our side and listens to our prayers.
The well may not be where we expect it, and the answer may not come when we want it. But again and again, God opens our eyes to signs of grace that we could not previously see.
It could be that friend who calls at just the right moment.
It could be that group of young people you have just avoided, who approach you and offer to carry your shopping to the car or house.
It could be the Sanctuary offered by Heaton Park Methodists this weekend to those attending Parklife: offering refreshments, dry clothes if the weather changes, or simply somewhere safe to stay.
God does not always remove the wilderness. But he meets us within it, walks beside us, and listens to our prayers wherever we may be.
This theme of hope and prayer continues in our reading from Romans.
Paul speaks about baptism as dying and rising with Christ. It is an image many people find difficult to understand, and perhaps even difficult to accept, but it’s our hope in the past, present and future..
At first glance this belief sounds strange, even alarming. Yet Paul is describing the deepest truth of Christian faith.
To follow Christ means that we are not defined forever by what has happened to us.
The old self, bound by sin and fear, does not have the final word.
Because Christ died and rose again, new life becomes possible.
The wilderness is not the end of the story. There is hope and light at the end of the tunnel. Prayer can be answered.
In baptism, we are joined to Christ’s journey through death into resurrection. We become people of hope because we belong to the One who has overcome even the powers that seem strongest.
And perhaps that is why Jesus can say such challenging words in the Gospel.
Three times he tells his disciples: “Do not be afraid.”
That command is not a denial of danger.
Jesus knows there will be opposition. He knows there will be misunderstanding. He knows discipleship may strain relationships and challenge loyalties.
When Jesus says, “I have not come to bring peace but a sword,” he is not encouraging violence. He is acknowledging a reality: the truth of God’s kingdom often disrupts the comfortable arrangements of the world.
Following Christ sometimes requires difficult decisions. It may mean:
- standing against injustice when silence would be easier;
- forgiving when resentment feels more natural;
- speaking truth when others would prefer us to remain quiet; and
- placing God’s values above society’s expectations.
The Gospel is good news, but it is not always comfortable news.
Yet notice what surrounds these difficult sayings.
Jesus speaks tenderly of sparrows.
Not one sparrow falls to the ground without the Father’s knowledge.
Even the hairs of your head are counted.
These are words of loving tenderness and hope, answering unspoken prayers.
The God who sees Hagar in the wilderness is the same God who notices the sparrow, counts every hair on our heads, and listens to our prayers.
We all matter to God.
We matter because we are loved by a God who sees us as we are, with all our faults and misgivings, and who continues to walk beside us, answering our prayers, which we can say in multiply ways.
Jesus does not tell us not to fear because life is easy.
He tells us not to fear because we are held in the hands of God.
And that changes everything.
Today, many people feel as though they are living in a wilderness. There is uncertainty in the world, conflict between nations, division within communities, and anxiety about the future. Some carry private wildernesses that no one else can see.
Yet the good news of today’s readings is that God is present in every wilderness. He is the light at the end of the tunnel and the hope towards which we move.
God sees those whom others overlook, hears the cries that others ignore, and opens our eyes to unexpected wells of grace, hope, and love.
He brings resurrection life out of places that seem dead, and he calls us to follow Christ with courage, trusting that nothing can separate us from his love.
So, if today you find yourself in a wilderness, pray and remember Hagar. If you feel trapped by the past, remember your baptism. If you are afraid, remember the sparrows.
And above all, remember this: the God who met Hagar in the desert, who raised Jesus from the dead, and who knows every hair on your head, walks beside you still, loves you as you are and hears you when you pray.
So let us give thanks to God, who sees us, hears us, walks beside us, and fills even the wilderness with hope. Amen.
St Margaret's Church Prestwich 