Foundry UMC DC: Sunday Sermons

An Exchange of Vows - January 10th, 2022

An Exchange of Vows

A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC January 9, 2022, The Baptism of the Lord. “Shine On!” series.

Texts: Isaiah 43:1-7, Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Some of you may be familiar with the phrase “setting intention.”  The core of Christian Centering Prayer (a meditative form of prayer) is to set your intention to be present to God.  For those of you who practice yoga, you will know that as you begin, the invitation is often to “set your intention” for your practice that day.  In other words, as you move through the practice, what do you want to work on?  What do you want to hold in mind?  What is your intention?  For me the language and practice of “intention” has become so important in my life.  I want to be intentional about my living, my choosing, my priority-setting, my loving.

In our United Methodist wedding liturgy, immediately following the welcome, is something called the “Declaration of Intention” in which the persons being married are asked to affirm things that sound like traditional marriage vows. It’s a part of the ceremony that often elicits questions during preparatory conversations with the couple. It’s not always clear why this shows up so early in the service. The backstory of this part of the ceremony is that it replaces the old “who gives this woman to be married” part—a practice grounded in patriarchal understandings of women as property, as persons without their own agency or voice. In our current service, those standing at the altar say right up front that no one is forcing them to get married and that they have chosen the person they’re marrying. That’s what those “vows” are all about. They are clearly stating their intention to freely enter into union with the person who stands beside them and to share the joys and sorrows of the relationship no matter what the future will hold. 

The parents and families and the whole congregation are also asked to affirm their blessing and support—their intention for their own relationship with the couple.

Whether it’s in prayer, a spiritual practice, or entering the covenant of marriage, our intentions are what we want to try to do or to be. And the truth is that we never know how things will play out in an unknown future. But in these key moments of our lives, we set our faces toward the vision we seek, with as much clarity as we can muster, and then…we try. 

Today is traditionally known as “Baptism of the Lord Sunday.” Many congregations, Foundry among them, include on this day an opportunity to reflect upon and participate in a reaffirmation of our baptismal covenant. For those of us who are baptized, it was either the intention of our parents when we were infants or our own intention as youth or adults to enter into the covenant of Baptism, into a more intentional relationship not only with God but with the people of God in the Body of Christ. 

And today, on this Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we stand at the banks of the Jordan River, that historically powerful place of crossing from the wilderness into the promised land, that flowing symbol of passage from one life into another and we witness Jesus baptized by John.

What was Jesus’ intention when he wandered into those waters? Why was Jesus Baptized?  Luke doesn’t tell us. But in Matthew’s account (3:15) Jesus states his intention is “to fulfill all righteousness.” Whenever we receive the word “righteousness,” think: “right relationship.” Some will disagree with me on this, but I think Jesus could have avoided the river Jordan, that he could have chosen not to pass through those waters into the life for which he was created, that he could have avoided his responsibility to fulfill “right relationship” and, instead, used all his considerable mojo to live whatever life he wanted. But, as the one who shows us what perfect love is and does, he humbly offers himself to John’s hands.

In most Christian circles, we believe that Jesus came into the world as the Christ, as the very heart of God. His Baptism didn’t necessarily change him—it didn’t zap him into being the Christ. Rather, Jesus’ baptism was and is an affirmation and confirmation of his true identity, a revelation, a further epiphany for us that this one is our Lord, the one who shows us how to be truly and fully human in the image of God. Jesus’ intention was to live fully in his identity, to be in loving and just (“right”) relationship with God and others; and he chose to pass through the waters of the Jordan. As he emerged, Spirit descended upon him and led him into the wilderness for 40 days and nights where Jesus wrestled with the devilish voice, prayed, fasted, and prepared for his new, public life and ministry.

I was reading from the UM Book of Worship in preparation for today and was struck afresh by these words: “The Baptismal Covenant is God’s word to us, proclaiming our adoption by grace, and our word to God, promising our response of faith and love.” Through our Baptism, we are adopted by God and brought into the Christian part of God’s family, incorporated into God’s own life, enfolded into God’s love. This doesn’t mean that we are outside of God’s love prior to our Baptism—but rather, that at our Baptism, like Jesus, our truest identity is affirmed and confirmed, namely, that we are beloved children of God. This is God’s word to us: I am your God and you are my Beloved. More of God’s intention is clarified in Isaiah 43: 

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
    I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
    and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
    and the flame shall not consume you.

…you are precious in my sight,
    and honored, and I love you…

As you pass through the waters, as you affirm and reaffirm your covenant with God, you are invited to acknowledge and celebrate that you ARE a beloved child of God, a sibling of Jesus, part of the Beloved Clan. This truth invites a joyful response. It invites us to make our own declaration of intention for who we will try to be and what we will try to do in relationship with God, with the whole human family, and within the Christian family. 

But just as in our understanding of marriage, God doesn’t force you to do anything. You are not coerced to respond. You have agency and voice. If you were baptized as an infant, that act was an affirmation of the truth of your belovedness and identity within God’s family. Those who brought you for Holy Baptism weren’t “speaking for you.” They affirmed their own faith and stated their intention to raise you so that you could know God and God’s love. You have a choice about your response every day after your Baptism. You can use your own mojo any way you choose. You can choose what kind of relationship you will have with God and with others. You choose your response to God, your intention.

As we gather on this day following the one year anniversary of the insurrection at our nation’s capital, I’m newly reminded how important it is for us to be clear both about our intention and the impact of our choices. I’m newly reminded how twisted versions of Christianity are woven into a long-standing, violent, white nationalist narrative and agenda in our country whose agents are rarely if ever truly held accountable for the harm inflicted. I’m reminded of the ways that the name of Jesus is coopted for the purpose of division when in truth Jesus’ witness modeled creation of community that crossed all boundaries and tore down dividing walls between people of all ages, nations, and races. I’m reminded of the stunning perversion of Jesus into one who marches with gun-toting bullies and supports self-serving greed. Because scripture is clear that, while Jesus clearly had power, charisma, and wisdom he chose not to throw his weight around and lord over others (unrighteous relationship), but chose instead to humble himself, to enter into the same waters of Baptism that we share, to face the wilderness and its many temptations, to journey in community and solidarity with all in need, to welcome and raise to leadership those whom others rejected or ignored, to insist upon both personal spiritual devotion and public social justice, to care for both souls and bodies, and to persevere even unto death for the sake of love. Jesus reveals for us the perfected image of God in human form—and all of us, in all our various gender identities, orientations, skin colors, nationalities, religions, and abilities are made in the image of God.

Today I want to remind us that if we take them seriously, the ancient words of our Baptismal covenant provide powerful words of intention for us for the living of these and all our days. First, we acknowledge there is evil in the world and that we ourselves fall short of God’s vision and so we repent. We affirm the power and freedom we’re given to resist evil, injustice, and oppression and to do what is right. We believe and have come to know that Jesus is the one who can show us what right relationship looks like and so we put our trust in Jesus and seek to follow. 

God’s word to us is love…forgiveness…freedom…power. What is your word of response to God? What will be your true intention? Your answer makes a difference. And God’s grace will be with you as you try.

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On the Path - January 2nd, 2022

On the Path

A homily preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC, January 2, 2022, Celebration of Epiphany, “Shine On!” series.

    Text: Matthew 2:1-12

One of the things I’ve heard myself say to countless persons in various challenging contexts over the course of my ministry and particularly the past couple of years is: “Things are not always going to be this way. You’re not always going to be where you are right now. It’s a journey…” This is not only a pep talk, it’s a theological assertion and a statement of Christian faith. Because the story we tell is that God is with us, receives our cries, and brings us through suffering and struggle to a new place of freedom and life. From slavery to promised land, from tomb to broiled fish on the beach with friends, the story is consistent. God’s saving love and grace is assured. 

This message has been key in the ongoing global pandemic and especially in the moments when many of us—either personally or collectively—have felt so profoundly stuck. Of course, we all know, really, that things change in our lives. Some of the changes are beyond our control. And some, we have agency to affect. And regardless of how changes happen in or around us, we always have the choice of how we’ll respond. How we choose to respond to new realities or challenges sets us on a particular path, puts us on a particular trajectory. It’s important to choose wisely.

 

At the beginning of a new calendar year, it is tradition for many to give thought to what kinds of changes they want to make in their lives. I have a love/hate relationship with new year’s resolutions. But the idea of it is frankly pretty good. If you’re going to change one way or another, it is wise to consider what direction you actually want to travel. Where are you trying to go? What are you trying to do? What steps can you take to move in that direction?

I’ve been thinking about this myself and I’ve decided I want to be like Betty White or Archbishop Desmond Tutu or Dolly Parton or José Andrés. There are others I could name, but these are currently front of mind. The point is that I’m thinking about legacy—about the story of my life I want others to be able to tell, about how I wish to be remembered as one who lives in the days we’re currently living. I’m thinking about what our lives mean in the larger world. And it’s not that we have to be famous as these I’ve named are. I also want to be like my Dad who is not famous at all. Fame is not the point. All of those I’ve named seem to have clarity about who they are and what gives their lives purpose and meaning. Dolly Parton describes what I’m after saying, “Find out who you are and do it on purpose.” This kind of living makes an impact. Betty White said, “Everybody needs a passion. That’s what keeps life interesting. If you live without passion, you can go through life without leaving any footprints.” And the first lines of Howard Thurman I ever encountered many years ago are these, “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” // Whether known by a few or known the world over, the people whose lives make the deepest impact are those who have come alive. 

I’m convinced that the closer we are to the source of life, the more we “come alive.” The closer we are to the heart of all that is, the more strongly our own heart will shine. And the Epiphany story we tell today, in its most broad terms, is a journey story on the path that leads to closer connection with the heart of God, with the life of God, with the love of God. The wise ones who came from afar in search of the prophesied new king, trained in the art of astronomy. I imagine it was their passion. And when they saw something changing in the sky, a herald of a promise, they made their journey, through danger and uncertainty, guided on the path by a star. They knew who they were, they had practiced their discipline, and they moved forward with intention to discover and honor the newborn king. 

The truth is that we don’t know how many magi there really were, exactly where they came from, or what they hoped to gain from their encounter with Jesus. But whoever they were, their actions formed the kernel from which the ancient celebration of Epiphany springs. It is a celebration that reminds each of us to search for the holy one, to let nothing deter us on the way, to draw near, to offer the gifts of our lives, and then to be enlivened by the love of God revealed in Jesus. The nearer you are to the beating heart of God’s love and life, the more you will “come alive,” the more you will shine with God’s love.

And the world needs people who have “come alive.” But you may feel stuck and dull and exhausted today. And you may think you don’t have anything left to offer. And in a time like this with so many challenges, you may be tempted to think there is no point to trying. And it may seem difficult to believe that things will ever be different than they are today. But there are those who have shown us how to shine with the love, peace, and power of God even in the midst of overwhelming pain, injustice, and despair. The late South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu is one of those people. He said, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.” You see, you don’t have to feed whole nations in the midst of a crisis like José Andrés, you just need to keep doing what you can. When the injustice and foolishness of the world threaten to overwhelm you, do your little bit of good and help overwhelm the world. A legacy, a life that makes a difference in others’ lives, doesn’t happen all at once. It is created along the way, little bit by little bit, choice by choice, response by response. And as we enter this new year, know there will be things that try to distract you and lead you into places of fear and danger. But also know God will guide your steps, will help you do your “little bit of good” day by day, will help you discern when to hold steady, to take a break, or (as with the magi in our story) to change course for your own safety.

Things are not always going to be this way. You’re not always going to be where you are right now. You and I are on the path. God is with us, receives our cries, and brings us through suffering and struggle to a new place of freedom and life. From slavery to promised land, from cross to resurrection. From faraway places to the intimate, life-renewing presence of God’s love in Christ Jesus. God’s saving love and grace is assured on the path. Whether by the light of a star, the witness of others’ courage, good humor, perseverance, and generosity, or the simple encouragement of a loved one, God will guide us, go before us, and help us get to the other side.

Archbishop Tutu’s affirmation of faith, set to music by John Bell, are where I’ll end. May this song be our traveling music for the journey of 2022:

Goodness is stronger than evil;
Love is stronger than hate;
Light is stronger than darkness;
Life is stronger than death;
Victory is ours through Him who loves us.

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Christmas Homily: Great Joy For All - December 24th, 2021

Great Joy For All

A Christmas Homily shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC on December 24th, 2021.

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Blessing - December 19th, 2021

Luke 1:39-45 

Rev. K.C. Van Atta-Casebier 

A Sermon for Foundry UMC 

12.19.21 

Let’s Pray. God, for Your wisdom and revelation and hope, we pray now. Amen. 

Well, this is a very embodied story, a story of two pregnant women. While I hope I have done faithful work to make this story both accessible and gentle, I do want to offer this word, keep watch over your heart. Breathe deeply and take breaks if you need to. 

Have you ever felt like you just knew something? Call it intuition or spiritual connection or universe electricity or just a well developed gut. Recently I answered a phone call, and I just knew what was waiting on the other end before the other person had spoken a word. I’m sure many of you have had moments where you felt Spirit pointing to something with about a thousand neon lighted arrows. As if to say, RIGHT HERE. This is the thing. This is your next step. Or take this path or this leap. Slow down. Breathe deep. 

Occasionally in the noise of it all, that divine voice of inner wisdom can get absorbed into the frequency of our environment. For this reason, I can hear my gut best when I am quiet and still, and when I allow my body to sink into itself. But not only is it difficult to hear, sometimes it can be hard to differentiate between what we are hearing from our inner truth and (I’m going to put this bluntly) downright mind tricks. Dangerous lies. And when my mind dupes me, I cope by spending a lot of time in a hypercritical flurry of preparation - pre-grief, pre-anxiety, pre-leading, pre-stress, pre-organizing, pre-worrying. And while yes, some of these things can be immensely helpful in the event of a crisis, the truth of the matter, even though it may be hard to see it, is that sometimes things work out. Even after you’ve stopped believing, even in the face of all of your preparatory grief or stress. Even if just for a moment. Sometimes, in the most unlikely circumstance what we get instead of a tragedy is a blessing. A humble God, a willingness to learn, a love that wins again and again, healing from trauma - a little bit at a time, survival, an unexpected miracle, a star in the night sky, a brave mother. 

A few years ago I was sitting in a surgical waiting room, the kind where every half hour or so a surgeon will come in and announce a name. The family members to whom that name belongs will approach the doctor, and right there in the waiting room they tell you the fate of your loved one. I listened as a surgeon came in, announced the name, “Lisa,” and waited for the family to approach. I saw from across the room, a woman start to gather her things and get up. She comes running over to the doctor. The doctor says, “Are you here for Lisa?” “Yes,” the woman replies. And then I watched as this doctor struggled to make sense of their relationship,

all while holding the most precious information of this woman’s life. Are you her friend….or her sister...or an aunt? As he continued to struggle, I saw the pain in her eyes. “No, I’m her wife,” she said quietly. The doctor then told her that her beloved Lisa was going to live, that he had gotten all of the cancer with clean margins. She wept openly as she wandered back to her waiting room seat. Something within me said, “Go to her.” I tried to fight this urge with all of my might. I was there for my family. I was not there in any official capacity. But still, the energy stirred. “Go to her,” it said. I could feel my shoulders tense, my abdomen tighten, my breath quicken. Something dared me to move. And it always feels like a dare, really. Because there is always something at stake - even if it’s just our comfort. So I went, but not before I had a tug-of-war in my head or what I have begun to call - indefatigable mind sparring. Eventually, my gut won. And this was clear because before my mind could catch up, I was already walking toward her. I asked if I could give her a hug, and apologized for the doctor. She said, “I’m just so glad she’s okay. And I’m not sure what made you come over here, but I am so glad you did. We drove many miles to come have this complicated surgery done by the best surgeon we could find. I have felt so alone.” She asked why I was in the waiting room and offered kind words of support. We talked until it was time for her to go see Lisa in recovery. Through tears we said goodbye. 

“Go to her,” is what I imagine Mary heard from within her. An 80 mile, harrowing journey to look her dear cousin in the eye and say, “me too.” When she arrived, I can only imagine their exchange. Did an angel come to you, too? Was it scary for you, also? Look at us, just a couple of outcasts, seemingly unable or incapable of hosting life…and yet here we are looking into 

each others eyes and feeling in our bodies the most impossible thing of all…that in the fullness of the unlikelihood of these circumstances…one thing is TRUE. For now, it seems to be working out. Mary and Elizabeth had both a human and divine connection. They really saw each other. The divine within Elizabeth recognizes the divine in Mary. The life within Mary sees the life within Elizabeth. And at that moment, I don’t know this for sure, but I hazard a guess that they weren’t trying to anticipate or help or advise or fix or teach. I think Mary and Elizabeth sat there with their umbilical connection - feeding one another presence and goodness and solidarity and hope. 

I think I always thought this story was about the baby, or in this case, babies. I thought that my Mothering and my Motherhood gave me a unique entry point into this story and the Gospel as a whole for that matter. And for many years I have said that it is a shame that we don’t talk about infertility and childbirth and pregnancy in the church….primarily because in the story that is upon us, that is LITERALLY how God comes to us. And in its specificity, it is true. The story is about a young pregnant mother and an older unlikely mother and their babies and exchanges of blessings… but what if that's not the whole story? What if it’s not actually about the baby? At least not yet. The story of the baby is coming soon, but it's not here. And babies and birth are sometimes an inaccessible and painful story for some of us. So, let's not skip ahead. Let’s stay right here with Mary and Elizabeth for now. Take a break from the preparation and the “what ifs”, the mind sparring, and all that tinsel. Just sit right here with me for a minute. Listen, women and birthing people. Listen, men and non-birthing people. Listen, those who are struggling with fertility. Listen, those who don’t have kids by choice or by circumstance. What if the blessing isn’t just the baby? What if the good news, the fulfillment of the promise, the

blessing… isn’t actually about our ability to bear children at all? What if it’s about our ability to bear God? The kind of bearing where the divine They rests in love and in shared life, all while conjuring our brew of inner knowing. And I have a few questions. If we know we’re all God bearers, can we be kinder to ourselves? Maybe speak to and about ourselves in ways that honor our belovedness? Can we see the blessings kept in us? Can we see them in one another? Can we stop trying to control others' bodies because we’re not really great at controlling our own? Can we stop laying claim to others bodies? Can we know, as Mary did, that we are God bearers? And then can we sing as Mary does, holy and unabashedly? 

But not that one song… Mary, did you know? No offense to the Gaithers…or actually definite offense to the Gaithers for writing perhaps the most Biblically unlettered song ever. Did Mary know? Yeah, Mary knew. She knew deep in her soul. She knew with her eyes and her arms and her legs and her abdomen. She knew in her body. And despite what everyone had likely said about her body, it was God’s dwelling place. And the same is true about us. Our bodies are God’s dwelling place. Our insides are remarkably capable to bear not only the name of Christ, but the ACTUAL CHRIST. And it would be great if we continue to speak kindly to them and about them and to create safe space for Emmanuel. And when we feel a holy nudging in our inner knowing, may we follow it, if necessary, all the way to the outskirts of town to find the blessing of human and divine connection so strong that we actually feel God leap within us.

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Renewal - December 12th, 2021

Renewal

A meditation shared by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli with Foundry UMC on December 12, 2021, the third Sunday of Advent. “Good Tidings” series.

          Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20

I have a plant that is dear to me because it was a memorial gift received for my father’s funeral service six years ago. It was small enough that I could carry it home with me on the plane. This plant is very good at telling me when it needs water. Its leaves begin to look thin and droop, unable to remain upright due to lack of their most vital requirement. As soon as I give it a drink, the response is dramatic. The plant is restored right before my eyes; the water renews its strength. 

Perhaps this image first came to mind as I reflected upon the words of the prophet Zephaniah because among all the good tidings from our text, the part that most struck me is, “God will renew you in his love.” At the end of this long year that has felt strangely short, I am painfully aware of how thin my resources are, how difficult it is to “keep my chin up” as daddy would say, how I often feel droopy like my plant when it’s thirsty. I’m aware of my own need for renewal—and I know I’m not alone. I observe frayed relationships and grieving families and whole communities grappling with trauma and anxiety. I’m aware of colleagues in ministry and school teachers and medical professionals who are burned out to the point of walking away from their vocations. I’m aware of the weary ones who continue to try to carry the banner for racial, gender, and economic equity and justice, for common sense gun laws, for access to education and health care and so much more. I’m aware of children and youth falling behind the learning curve and grappling with spikes in anxiety and depression. And, mercy, just think of the communities destroyed in minutes from tornadoes this week and all those still recovering from fires, floods and other increasingly intense natural disasters as a result of climate change. // “God will renew you…” Those are words I need to hear. 

The original audience needed these words as well. Zephaniah prophesied in Judah during the early years of King Josiah, around 640 BCE and before the king’s reforms address the mess Israel had made of things. Much of the short book (only three chapters) is searing judgment upon Israel for idolatry and syncretism (1:4-6), complacency (1:12), corrupt leadership (3:3-4), and injustice (3:1, 5). And yet quite abruptly the message shifts. The last word of the book—the way Zephaniah’s prophecy ends—is what we receive today: “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!” And why the rejoicing? Because “The Lord has taken away the judgments against you…the Lord your God is in your midst…God will renew you in his love…God will deal with all your oppressors…will save the outcast…will bring you home…”

Picture it in your mind’s eye…a whole community—weighed down with the human mix of guilt, fear, anxiety, weariness, apathy and all the fruits of injustice—everyone drooping and weak, parched for what is most needed... and then news arrives that God is on the way and will not destroy, but save them. Like a drink of cool water, mercy and help and relief and guidance and love flow into the parched places. God’s love renews them all.

The end of Zephaniah feels a little bit like a stock photo, the old Deus ex machina, the knight in shining armor, Tammy Wynette “standing by her man.” It feels too easy, a bit contrived, a predictable ending to God’s love story. 

But I gotta say, right now, predictable love stories are giving me life and not a small measure of joy. Whether it’s Hallmark or Lifetime or Netflix or wherever, I’m quite happy to spend some time with completely overused plot points like two romantically challenged characters who meet, realize they’re destined to be together, encounter a series of problems meant to separate them, and by the end are wrapped in each other’s arms. Or two people meet and immediately think the other is awful only later to discover that arguing with each other is better than any conversation with anyone else ever. Or two people who usually don’t get along agree to pretend they are together to satisfy family expectations or make an ex jealous and, well, you know how the story goes… 

And I’ll quickly say that the renewal I get from 90 minutes of contrived plot points and charming country Christmas villages with quirky characters is NOT because I lack for love in my life. It’s because sometimes you just need to experience the predictable love story, to be reminded that desire for love is universal, that to love and be loved is life-giving and joy producing. And, of course, there’s the side benefit of shutting off large parts of your brain so that it can get a little break. That is renewing in a whole other way.

Today and throughout this season, we receive again the familiar story of God’s love affair with us. It goes something like this:

God loves us and provides guidance and resources for our lives to flourish; we blow God off in one form or fashion doing harm to others and ourselves in the process; God sends prophets and teachers to try to get our attention; and when we make even the smallest turn toward God, create even the slightest opening in our heart to God, God rushes in with grace and love and compassion and forgiveness. Rejoicing ensues and the credits roll… And then people create a series of sequels that have a very similar plot.

The rejoicing isn’t because we’re off the hook, but because we realize we’re loved “even while we are yet sinners.” (as our communion liturgy affirms) // In my experience, water is sweeter when I’m parched. Mercy and forgiveness are cause for humble rejoicing when I know I’ve messed up. Assurance that I’m not alone and that I’m loved is nice enough when I am feeling strong, but that assurance is new life and strength when I’m feeling weak. Good tidings are only good when we know we stand in need of them…

And the good tidings of Zephaniah’s prophesy reminds us that renewal is God’s desire for us. God knows what we need. We are assured that as we respond to God’s love, strengthened to try to do and be better, to live together in peace with justice, to care for others as we care for ourselves, God is in our midst as our advocate and guide, our protector, and the one who loves us best.

So rejoice! 

The plot twist, no longer such a twist for those who’ve seen the movie before, is that we aren’t the only ones singing for joy. In verse 17 it is God who is rejoicing! “God will rejoice over you with gladness, God will renew you in his love; God will exult over you with loud singing!” 

God’s love story may have a predictable ending. But it never gets old. For God so loves the world that, well, you know how the story goes (cf. John 3:16-17). Let’s rejoice that in these holy days we receive the story and God’s amazing grace… again.

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