Oh, So Close
Text: Numbers 21:4-9; (John 3:14-15)
Do you remember this headline? —"Oh, So Close." It followed South Carolina’s loss to Florida in the SEC championship game. After winning three straight, South Carolina suffered this heartbreaking defeat by just two points. "Just one bucket," Coach Kirkland would have said. And with that, South Carolina came up "just short" of the SEC crown, and an automatic bid to play in the NCAA tournament for the National Championship. So close. "Oh, So Close."
We’re talking here about what might have been. South Carolina might have been the SEC basketball champions this year. So close. "Oh, so close."
We’re talking here about lost opportunity. One bucket and South Carolina would have been playing in the NCAA tournament—one bucket away from an opportunity to play for the National Championship. So close. "Oh, so close."
We’re talking here about dashed dreams and unfulfilled hopes. Such experiences as these stir powerful emotions—sorrow, anguish, regret, pain, all mingled up together most of the time with a little bit, or a lot, of shame, whether deserved or not.
So close. "Oh, So Close."
Do you remember Lindsey Jacobellis? Lindsey was the face of several Olympic advertisement campaigns, and she was the favorite to win the gold to become the first champion in the Olympic’s newest sport—the snowboardcross. Before the Olympics, she was called "Lucky Lindsey."
But Lindsey wasn’t so lucky on that Friday in the Olympics. About 100 yards from the finish line, Lindsey hung in the air. She had only one jump remaining. Her closest competitor was about 50 yards behind her. She was in the clear with a runaway victory. American coaches were already being congratulated. Family members were being mobbed. Then, with a final, risky flourish, the twenty-year-old Lindsey attempted a backside method grab, and she landed on the edge of her snowboard, and fell.
So close. "Oh, so close."
But, the sports arena is not the only place in life where dreams are dashed and hopes remain unfulfilled. And in these other places, the consequences of such experiences are often far greater and far more tragic.
Take for example, our text for today. The Israelites are so close to the Promised Land. They are camped at Kadesh, a place very near the southern borders of their destination. They need but march northward a short distance and they will be there. Their journey will be over after forty years in the wilderness.
There is but one obstacle. Israel has to pass through the territory of Edom. But this obstacle seems slight. Afterall, the Edomites are family. Israel’s father Jacob and Edom’s father Esau were twin brothers. They can both trace their line of descent from Abraham and Isaac. They are of common stock.
So, Moses sends Edom a very brotherly message. He asks to pass through Edom’s land on the king’s highway. This great road will provide easy passage for the final leg of Israel’s journey. But Edom refuses to give Israel passage through his borders, and he confronts Israel with a large military force.
Israel is thus forced to take a detour around Edom. They must march south instead of north. For the time being at least, they are traveling away from Canaan and they do not know how they are ever going to reach it. They must now pass through a rugged, sandy and exceptionally dreary plain instead of the well-traveled King’s Highway.
"And the soul of the people becomes much discouraged because of the way;" that is, they become discouraged because of the route, the path, the passage they must take.
Israel is disappointed at finding themselves so near the borders of the promised land, and not able to enter it.
Israel is irritated by the refusal of a passage through Edom.
Israel is vexed by the necessity of a journey that will take them in the opposite direction by a long and circuitous route through the worst parts of a sandy desert.
And above all, Israel dreads being plunged into new and unknown difficulties.
All this, produces in them a deep depression of spirits, a shortness of soul; but God does not fault them for this.
It is at this point of the story that I get a knot in my stomach. I feel my muscles tighten and my palms begin to sweat. I have to ask—what is Israel going to do with these feelings? How are they going to react? It is at this point that Israel has a choice. Sin crouches at the door of Israel’s soul. Its urge is toward them. Yet, Israel can be its master. The question is "will they?" Or will they open the door to it?
It is at this point then that I want to shout at Israel and say, "Come on now Israel. Don’t do anything foolish. You’re almost there. You are so close—oh, so close. Don’t mess up now. Hold on just a little longer. I know you’ve had a set back. But, hang on. Push just a little harder. Cry if you want. Scream if you have to. And by all means, pray. Pray, but, don’t do anything foolish—not now. God is with you. And God will get you through this—even this. Resist, Israel, resist."
But, despite all my pleas—all my attempts to comfort—all my efforts to encourage and give hope, Israel’s endurance gives way and they fling wide the door.
With stinging words, Israel turns upon the very one who loves them. They complain, but their complaint is not about what is really bothering them, that is, the lengthened journey, instead it is aimed with a vengeance at God in order to bring pain and to discredit. They complain about the manna—the bread of heaven. They say it causes them to vomit. Ironically, this is the food that has given them the strength to journey for forty years. They maliciously attack God’s gift—God’s gift of life and of freedom.
In choosing to sin, Israel becomes its own worst enemy. They curse God, and snakes infest the camp as the people’s punishment. The snakes bite the people, and many of the people of Israel die. They will never, never, reach the promised land.
And they were so close to the end of their journey. "Oh, so close."
Talk about lost opportunity. Talk about dashed dreams and unfulfilled hopes. They were so close. "Oh, so close."
However, this is not the end of the story for some.
For you see, the terror of the moment compels a confession on the part of those who have not yet been bitten. But, it’s only a matter of time before they, too, will be struck.These ask Moses to pray to God to take away the snakes, and Moses prays. But, God does not take away the snakes. Instead, God provides an anti-dote for snake bite. Th anti-dote is a snake set aloft upon a pole. And to look at the uplifted snake will cure the ill-effects of the deadly snakes that still crawl upon the ground at the people’s feet.
The anti-dote for the people who have sinned against God is to look upon what is killing them. They must look at their sin and see the consequences of their behavior and the destructive nature of their words. In looking, and in truly seeing, they will be saved. By acknowledging their sin, they will be set free and given health and life. And they will be able to go on. They will be able to continue their journey.
This, my dear friends, is what we are called to do in the season of Lent. Like our ancestors in the desert, we are called to look on what is killing us. As our ancestors looked on the serpent, we must look at our own sin and see the results of our behavior and the destructive nature of our words. In looking, and in truly seeing, we too will be saved.
But, to choose not to look, to not see, is to remain in the hateful and destructive way of death. The choice is ours—to look and live, or refuse to look and die.
In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Do you remember this headline? —"Oh, So Close." It followed South Carolina’s loss to Florida in the SEC championship game. After winning three straight, South Carolina suffered this heartbreaking defeat by just two points. "Just one bucket," Coach Kirkland would have said. And with that, South Carolina came up "just short" of the SEC crown, and an automatic bid to play in the NCAA tournament for the National Championship. So close. "Oh, So Close."
We’re talking here about what might have been. South Carolina might have been the SEC basketball champions this year. So close. "Oh, so close."
We’re talking here about lost opportunity. One bucket and South Carolina would have been playing in the NCAA tournament—one bucket away from an opportunity to play for the National Championship. So close. "Oh, so close."
We’re talking here about dashed dreams and unfulfilled hopes. Such experiences as these stir powerful emotions—sorrow, anguish, regret, pain, all mingled up together most of the time with a little bit, or a lot, of shame, whether deserved or not.
So close. "Oh, So Close."
Do you remember Lindsey Jacobellis? Lindsey was the face of several Olympic advertisement campaigns, and she was the favorite to win the gold to become the first champion in the Olympic’s newest sport—the snowboardcross. Before the Olympics, she was called "Lucky Lindsey."
But Lindsey wasn’t so lucky on that Friday in the Olympics. About 100 yards from the finish line, Lindsey hung in the air. She had only one jump remaining. Her closest competitor was about 50 yards behind her. She was in the clear with a runaway victory. American coaches were already being congratulated. Family members were being mobbed. Then, with a final, risky flourish, the twenty-year-old Lindsey attempted a backside method grab, and she landed on the edge of her snowboard, and fell.
So close. "Oh, so close."
But, the sports arena is not the only place in life where dreams are dashed and hopes remain unfulfilled. And in these other places, the consequences of such experiences are often far greater and far more tragic.
Take for example, our text for today. The Israelites are so close to the Promised Land. They are camped at Kadesh, a place very near the southern borders of their destination. They need but march northward a short distance and they will be there. Their journey will be over after forty years in the wilderness.
There is but one obstacle. Israel has to pass through the territory of Edom. But this obstacle seems slight. Afterall, the Edomites are family. Israel’s father Jacob and Edom’s father Esau were twin brothers. They can both trace their line of descent from Abraham and Isaac. They are of common stock.
So, Moses sends Edom a very brotherly message. He asks to pass through Edom’s land on the king’s highway. This great road will provide easy passage for the final leg of Israel’s journey. But Edom refuses to give Israel passage through his borders, and he confronts Israel with a large military force.
Israel is thus forced to take a detour around Edom. They must march south instead of north. For the time being at least, they are traveling away from Canaan and they do not know how they are ever going to reach it. They must now pass through a rugged, sandy and exceptionally dreary plain instead of the well-traveled King’s Highway.
"And the soul of the people becomes much discouraged because of the way;" that is, they become discouraged because of the route, the path, the passage they must take.
Israel is disappointed at finding themselves so near the borders of the promised land, and not able to enter it.
Israel is irritated by the refusal of a passage through Edom.
Israel is vexed by the necessity of a journey that will take them in the opposite direction by a long and circuitous route through the worst parts of a sandy desert.
And above all, Israel dreads being plunged into new and unknown difficulties.
All this, produces in them a deep depression of spirits, a shortness of soul; but God does not fault them for this.
It is at this point of the story that I get a knot in my stomach. I feel my muscles tighten and my palms begin to sweat. I have to ask—what is Israel going to do with these feelings? How are they going to react? It is at this point that Israel has a choice. Sin crouches at the door of Israel’s soul. Its urge is toward them. Yet, Israel can be its master. The question is "will they?" Or will they open the door to it?
It is at this point then that I want to shout at Israel and say, "Come on now Israel. Don’t do anything foolish. You’re almost there. You are so close—oh, so close. Don’t mess up now. Hold on just a little longer. I know you’ve had a set back. But, hang on. Push just a little harder. Cry if you want. Scream if you have to. And by all means, pray. Pray, but, don’t do anything foolish—not now. God is with you. And God will get you through this—even this. Resist, Israel, resist."
But, despite all my pleas—all my attempts to comfort—all my efforts to encourage and give hope, Israel’s endurance gives way and they fling wide the door.
With stinging words, Israel turns upon the very one who loves them. They complain, but their complaint is not about what is really bothering them, that is, the lengthened journey, instead it is aimed with a vengeance at God in order to bring pain and to discredit. They complain about the manna—the bread of heaven. They say it causes them to vomit. Ironically, this is the food that has given them the strength to journey for forty years. They maliciously attack God’s gift—God’s gift of life and of freedom.
In choosing to sin, Israel becomes its own worst enemy. They curse God, and snakes infest the camp as the people’s punishment. The snakes bite the people, and many of the people of Israel die. They will never, never, reach the promised land.
And they were so close to the end of their journey. "Oh, so close."
Talk about lost opportunity. Talk about dashed dreams and unfulfilled hopes. They were so close. "Oh, so close."
However, this is not the end of the story for some.
For you see, the terror of the moment compels a confession on the part of those who have not yet been bitten. But, it’s only a matter of time before they, too, will be struck.These ask Moses to pray to God to take away the snakes, and Moses prays. But, God does not take away the snakes. Instead, God provides an anti-dote for snake bite. Th anti-dote is a snake set aloft upon a pole. And to look at the uplifted snake will cure the ill-effects of the deadly snakes that still crawl upon the ground at the people’s feet.
The anti-dote for the people who have sinned against God is to look upon what is killing them. They must look at their sin and see the consequences of their behavior and the destructive nature of their words. In looking, and in truly seeing, they will be saved. By acknowledging their sin, they will be set free and given health and life. And they will be able to go on. They will be able to continue their journey.
This, my dear friends, is what we are called to do in the season of Lent. Like our ancestors in the desert, we are called to look on what is killing us. As our ancestors looked on the serpent, we must look at our own sin and see the results of our behavior and the destructive nature of our words. In looking, and in truly seeing, we too will be saved.
But, to choose not to look, to not see, is to remain in the hateful and destructive way of death. The choice is ours—to look and live, or refuse to look and die.
In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
posted by Rev. Jo | 2:57 PM
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