Today is the second week of Lent. It also happens to be the second week of Springtime, according to the Met office definition of spring which begins on 1 March. Thankfully, it is not the second Sunday of sitting in a freezing cold church! Thank you to John Bonham for organising oil for heating!

Sadly, however, in the back of our minds is the ever-present knowledge that as we sit here today, a war is raging in Ukraine. Unprovoked; unnecessary and tragic.. What do we do in the face of such events we ask? I would love to have a straightforward answer to that question. I don’t. But what I would like to offer you this morning are three short reflections on today’s passages of scripture. Reflections on Fear, on Love and on Hope.

Two of the many memorable conversations I’ve had this week touched on fear. One was with a lovely lady at our Community Coffee morning. ‘How are you?’, I asked; ‘I’m fine’ she answered, ‘but I’m so tired’. She has been tired ever since she had Covid, and she fears that she’ll never fully recover. The second was with a Doctor who told me that there are many people who go to Ukraine from Nigeria and other parts of the world to train as doctors. These students are caught up in this war, afraid, far from home. Where is God in this?

David wrote Psalm 27 in the midst of fear: fear of his enemies who surround him and fear of war which rages. He says

The Lord is my light and my salvation;       

whom then shall I fear? •    

The Lord is the strength of my life;       

of whom then shall I be afraid? 

 2  When the wicked, even my enemies and my foes,       

came upon me to eat up my flesh, •    

they stumbled and fell. 

 3  Though a host encamp against me,       

my heart shall not be afraid, •    

and though there rise up war against me,       

yet will I put my trust in him.

Three times in these three verses David names his fear. Three times he asserts faith-filled responses demonstrating his confidence in God. First, he asserts: ‘the Lord is my light and my salvation – whom then shall I fear? In the midst of darkness, God brings his light, In the midst of the attack of his enemies, the Lord brings salvation. In the midst of weakness, he finds strength in the Lord. None of us feels strong when we are suffering from tiredness and the after-affects of Covid or mental illness; no, we are weak. When the apostle Paul prayed to be released from his weakness, he received this answer from the Lord: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:7-10. 

Light. Salvation. Strength. Is Light, salvation and strength available to those who are living in the midst of war-torn Kiyv? Or refugees fleeing Ukraine? Is God there? As here, He is there, an ever-present help in times of trouble.

In this week’s Church Times, there is a remarkable testimony from one of the 2.1 million refugees who have fled Ukraine: Rev’d Solomon Ekiyor. Speaking at St Margaret’s church in Budapest says “ the war profoundly disrupts our lives and plans, but our faith also gives us resources to meet these questions.” In his sermon, he referred to “ the long history of disruptions that are part of the life of the people of God, from the Exodus of people from Egypt (Jewish people are celebrating Passover this week) to Mary finding herself with child by the Holy Spirit.” He asserts: “ God did not cause the evil in Putin’s act, but God has a way of working with it, improvising and weaving it into the tapestry of his purpose in the world.” He concludes, “ it is for each of us now to ask his guidance on what new purpose he has for us in this situation.” Hundreds of individuals, communities and churches have registered with the Sanctuary Foundation which is supporting new arrivals from Ukraine in different ways. Might this be part of the tapestry of God’s purpose which we could be part of? 

My second reflection is on love. Jesus, on his journey to Jerusalem and the suffering which awaits him, pauses as he enters Jerusalem. It’s not duty that takes him there or Herod’s murderous threats, it is love. Love for the people of Jerusalem, and love for each and every human, including us. 

In my early 20’s my friend Mary and I took a term of unpaid leave from teaching and travelled on a shoestring from Zimbabwe to explore five countries, one being Israel. We arrived in Jerusalem and decided to go somewhere where we could get a good view of the city. We found a high rise hotel and took the lift right to the top where we found a restaurant that was closed for business, but which had windows looking out over the temple mound and the old city. The blinds were drawn, leaving only about a foot of window at the bottom. I remember so clearly lying on my tummy to get a view of Jerusalem, with the setting sun streaming down in shafts through the clouds. Suddenly I felt overwhelmed by emotion as these words, spoken by Jesus came to mind: 

34 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, but you would not!

The force of the love and sadness that Jesus felt for the city and people of Jerusalem hit me – how often I desired to gather your people together as a mother hen gathers her chicks …’ Well why didn’t he just gather them? Begin a political revolution which would overthrow the occupying forces of Rome? Is Jesus too weak or is God absent? Of course not. Here’s the thing: it’s the people themselves who were not willing. God always choses co-operation with us; he does not take people under his wing by force. His love is an inviting love; he will never force you or me or his enemies or the invading Russians, or the fleeing Ukranians to gather under his wings.  But his love for us, demonstrated by his death and resurrection for us and for all of humankind, means that whenever we cry out to him; whenever we turn to him and whenever we pray to him, he hears us and draws us to himself. 

Finally, a reflection on Hope, and for this we turn back to our Psalm. John Stott, a well-known scholar and author, notes that the tone of Psalm 27 vvs 8-15 is so different to vvs1-7 that one could question whether they were written by the same person. The mood of assertion and defiant confidence gives way to an anxious supplication to God:

 9  Hear my voice, O Lord, when I call; • have mercy upon me and answer me.

There is a place for doubt in faith. This silence or feeling of darkness or forsakenness or hiddenness of God is a wilderness experience and something we take time to reflect on in the prayerful discipline of Lent – the setting of our face toward the cross. Lent is a time to reorient ourselves, clarify our minds, slow down and give ourselves to prayerful silence. 

Bishop Guli has called us to observe a ‘Holy Sabbatical’ during Lent this year. I’m not sure that I understand fully what this is or how to observe it. But I believe the last verse of Psalm 27 holds a clue. Silence and waiting in God’s presence – contemplative prayer - demonstrate our hope. He comes amongst us, as we recover from Covid, as we suffer loneliness or grief, as we struggle with rising prices, as we despair over the tragedy of the war in Ukraine. v17

Wait for the Lord; be strong and he shall comfort your heart; • wait patiently for the Lord.

As we wait and hope in the Lord, he weaves what we bring to him into the tapestry of his purpose in the world. 

Come, creator Spirit, source of life;

sustain us when our hearts are heavy

and our wells have run dry,

for you are the Father’s gift,

with him who is our living water, 

Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen