Draw Close to God

Luke 13:31-35

Volodymyr Zelensky has become a hero in a short period of time. He has rallied his nation and much of the world in the face of the onslaught of Russia’s invasion. Outmanned and outgunned, Zelensky has led with inspiring courage and determination to fight for the sovereignty of Ukraine. His words, backed up with his deeds, has been nothing short of history changing. I don’t think we fully comprehend right now what is unfolding and what impact it will have on the world.

In times like these, folk stories emerge. One of them goes like this. Early in the invasion, our leaders were reaching out to Zelensky and offered to provide him safe passage out of Ukraine, him and his family, for his own protection, so that he could maintain a government in exile. Zelensky famously replied to the offer by saying, “What I need is ammo, not a ride.” That statement resonated with so many people. Here was a leader who would not back down. Such courage and determination.

It appears to be just a matter of time against Russia. But the resistance to the invasion is strong. The defense of their sovereignty is inspiring. If it becomes the case that Russia is able to set up some kind of puppet government and annex Ukraine, much of the world will see what this is: the force of brute power suppressing the integrity of a sovereign nation. In this respect, Putin has already lost.

The courage of the Ukrainian people that we are witnessing reflects the courage demonstrated by Jesus as he makes his way toward Jerusalem. Luke writes that Jesus set his face like flint as he turned toward Jerusalem for this one last journey in fulfillment of his destiny. Jesus was crystal clear in what his mission is. He is to go to Jerusalem. Nothing will stop him from fulfilling his mission.

Jesus was confident in his mission. It was this confidence that enabled him to push aside the dubious concern these Pharisees had for his well-being. And it was dubious. Luke portrays the Pharisees as consistently critiquing and challenging Jesus. Even when a Pharisee would invite Jesus to his house for dinner, at some point during dinner a question would be asked that attempted to trap Jesus, to undermine his authority or otherwise stir up doubt and uncertainty among those who would follow him. So, the idea that these Pharisees were worried about his safety can’t be believed. They likely were “warning” him about Herod wanting to kill him to see if they could persuade Jesus to lay low for a while, to put a pause on his mission. Or maybe they could get him to demonstrate his own self-preservation at the expense of his mission, the equivalent of when Zelensky was offered safe passage out of Ukraine, and thus undermining his credibility. There had to be some trick up their sleeves. But it was not hard for Jesus to see past their concern for his safety. He was clear in his mind that he would not be killed in Galilee where Herod was. No, Jesus knew that death awaited him in Jerusalem.

Let’s pause and sit for a minute with this. What Jesus is saying to these Pharisees is heavy. Jesus is moving forward on a mission that will lead to his death. Yes, there would be resurrection. Jesus would defeat the power of death on that third day. But that did not avoid what clearly was in his mind. In Jerusalem he would experience what others before him had experienced, the prophets that God had sent to Jerusalem to call the people back to God, to the ways of God, and for their efforts were stoned or otherwise killed. Prophets get killed. That is the inescapable lesson of history. Jesus would experience this himself. Suffering and death awaited him as he moved forward, his face like flint, toward Jerusalem. When Jesus said this out loud to the Pharisees and those who were following him, surely there was a heaviness in the air. It was sobering, intense, and inspiring.

As Jesus’ words of clarity about what was ahead of him hung in the air and those accompanying him felt the weight of those words, Jesus is moved to express deep lament for his people. Speaking as a prophet does, as God’s mouthpiece, Jesus cries out, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Surely tears welled up in Jesus’ eyes as he spoke this lament, the frustration, the longing for something other than how things are.

What Jesus says reveals the heart of God. What an evocative image, God like a mother hen. God is portrayed in so many different ways. God is like a fortress, a rock, an eagle. And here, like a hen. How God longs to gather God’s children together, to establish a family, a community of safety, love, warmth, home. But the children resist. They don’t shelter under God’s wings. They do not gather together under God’s care. We are less like baby chicks and more like feral cats.

Why do we do this? Why does the human community so often turn away from the ways of God and the security that God offers those who trust in God? Listen to these words from Jeremiah that Jesus perhaps had in mind when he spoke his lament:

Thus says the Lord: Act with justice and righteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place. For if you will indeed obey this word, then through the gates of this house shall enter kings who sit on the throne of David, riding in chariots and horses, they, and their servants, and their people. But if you will not heed these words, I swear by myself, says the Lord, that this house shall become a desolation.

And so, Jesus says, “Your house is left to you desolate. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

From Ukraine to our streets we see so much violence, abuse, and lack of compassion. We see kids killing kids with guns. We see someone’s son or daughter being trafficked to satisfy the lusts of someone else’s son or daughter. We see such a lack of compassion for the most vulnerable among us. We look around us and see a house of desolation.

It doesn’t have to be this way. In the face of so much evil and savagery in our world, we are tempted to turn aside, to lay low, to find ways to escape from the distress and mess all around us. Or, we can be inspired by Jesus’ courage and commitment, to follow the mission that Jesus has set for us, to stay engaged in the work of justice and righteousness, knowing that God is with us and will see us through to the very end.

I invite you to return to God today, right now. Draw yourself to the one who cares for us, the one we can trust, the one who longs to gather us all up under her wings. Let this poem that was shared with me be your invitation to return to God.

Child, the best way you can repent today

is to stop spurning God's love.

Stop ignoring the Beloved calling your name.

Stop declining the deep blessings meant for you,

the mysterious love that flows beneath gravity itself

the kindness the Spirit has for you 

even when the world is mean.

Stop pretending it's not for you,

that you yourself are not a cell in the Body of Love.

Let the earth hold you, as it will forever.

Let the sun and rain fall on you 

like a lover falling on their beloved.

Repent of ignoring yourself, belittling yourself,

acting as if you're not worth it. 

Forgive yourself. Soften your heart, and forgive. 

Indulge yourself in sacred time

simply to marvel at the gift, the miracle that is you.

Repent of how hard you are on yourself,

your judgment, your despair. Have mercy. Have faith. 

Your sin is denying your belovedness.

You are Beloved. Your penance is to live like it, 

as God would have you do.