Mary Mehala
February 2, 2025
Fourth Sunday After Epiphany
Good morning, Seekers. This was a tough week I tell you. I am looking forward to taking David and Marji’s class because in these deeply troubling times my spirit is so grieved, that I need help to see Jesus, and to grow in my understanding of the spirit of God. If I am going to remain faithful to the end and trust God in all things, I need help, because like Daniel I want to stand and walk in the fire, and like Daniel I cannot walk alone.
Anyway, I’ll be sharing from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 4. This won’t be a long message, like I said it’s been a tough week, and I just hope that you glean whatever it is that the spirit would have you glean. In verses 21–30, we read that Jesus returns to his hometown after spreading the gospel in nearby regions. As was his custom, he attends the local synagogue, but this time, he reads from the scroll of Isaiah. The townspeople—his old friends, family, and neighbors—had heard about him preaching and doing miracles in other places. They were initially in awe of his words. They couldn’t believe it, that this was the son of Joseph, they asked… “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?” But to me, that’s an odd question, why not address him by his name, Jesus, why refer to him as “the son of Joseph”? Anyway, I think by asking that question, they were unable to recognize Jesus for who he was and His divine calling, and I believe missed out on the opportunity to know Him more deeply, and experience for themselves what they’ve been hearing from others.
They were more focused on who he was, and where he came from rather than what he was saying. They couldn’t see themselves in the words he spoke, because their focus wasn’t on the message, but rather on the son of Joseph. Sometimes it’s really easy to focus on who’s giving the message, rather than the message itself.
Two examples of focusing on the messenger and not the message comes to mind. The first example is when Bishop Budde specifically asked President Trump to show mercy to the LGBTQ+ and immigrant community. The scowles on their faces said it all, had they accepted the message they might have caught a glimpse of the divine. Many others
were upset as well, and some even felt she should apologize. If they could, I’m sure some would have thrown her off a cliff. But, much like Jesus, symbolically speaking, she walked through the crowd, standing firm in her conviction.
Another example comes to mind. Just a few weeks ago, one of our speakers invited us to consider alternatives for reimagining the Dayspring Retreat and Silent Retreat Center. Although my own journey with the Silent Retreat Center is brief compared to many others, I, too, felt its spiritual impact on my life and remain grateful. I can only imagine the range of thoughts and emotions it stirred in many of you.
I sensed he was stepping into an ancient well—still waters whose depths are filled with wisdom, prayers, and stories of old. As I reflect further, I can’t help but ask: did we miss the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the divine because of who he was? Was there a message for us that, for whatever reason, we couldn’t see or hear? (Breath) Or maybe we did hear.
Returning to the gospel story, I can imagine how it must have felt to hear such a profound message from someone—a seemingly ordinary person from their own hometown—claiming to be the “one” Isaiah spoke of. The possibility that the Messiah had been among them all along must have weighed heavily on some hearts. A simple carpenter from a humble family in their hometown was, in fact, the Messiah they had been waiting for. (Breath) Will we recognize and receive the Messiah when He returns?
Although Jesus knew what was in their hearts, they were still given the chance to accept His call and find joy in being in the presence of the “one” Isaiah had foretold. Yet, they did not embrace that opportunity. To expose the hidden doubts within them, Jesus shared the story of how God sent Elijah during the great famine to a widow, and Elisha to a king with leprosy—both of whom accepted their blessing with joy. However, His words were met with anger.
You know, I remember when I was 22, living in the South of France, and having an argument with God. I was standing on a rock overlooking the beautiful Mediterranean, literally screaming and crying, and shouting at God—and if I could, I probably would have pushed God over the rock and into the water. Believing in and trusting a good, loving God has always been a struggle for me, and I know I have missed countless opportunities to get a glimpse of the divine, because of my own doubts. Even as I share this with you, I sense the Holy Spirit calling me to surrender, to trust God, God’s heart is much bigger than mine, and to forgive myself. And like Jesus to walk boldly through that which crowds me.
I also recall Brenda’s message from a few weeks ago, where she spoke about the sacredness of a blessing. Sometimes, I don’t recognize a blessing for what it truly is and, as a result, fail to see its sacredness—sometimes even discarding it. In these chaotic times, I wonder if there is a sacred blessing meant for me. In my desire to stay connected, to have boots on the ground, it’s hard to see any blessing within the chaos; I grieve. Can I see God’s love in all of this turmoil? I imagine that even Jesus’ neighbors must have wondered at times, “Where is God? Where is the Messiah?” Yet, He was always among them. We too might be tempted to ask the same questions—I know I am. Perhaps the true blessing is learning to see; how else could I learn to see in the dark? Did not Jesus speak these very words: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age”? So, while we might not see Jesus, He is with me, and he is still speaking, therefore let us all listen closely, and we might get a glimpse of the divine, and let us all embrace the sacred blessing, the one whom God has sent.
Here’s a word from the book Habakkuk—I love the book of Habakkuk!
Habakkuk 3: 16-19
I heard, and my heart pounded; my lips quivered at the sound; decay crept into my bones, and my legs trembled. Yet I will wait patiently for the day of calamity to come on the nation invading us. Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, enabling me to tread on the heights.
I think of the countries that have faced calamity on a scale that Habakkuk prophesied—a burden I have not known—and I am gently reminded that my blessing rests in the One whom God has sent to bring hope and healing to me and to our broken world. This morning, I end this message feeling both humbled and deeply grateful, carrying with me the joy of fellowship, the love of God and a quiet, grieving heart. May we leave here with hearts filled and overflowing with love, so we can share that love in these chaotic times, so others might too, get a glimpse of the divine
