First Sunday in Lent

Psalm 91

There were two fields in the neighborhood where I grew up. One was called the big field because it was…big! The big field went on for acres and acres, over hills and down little valleys, through woods, through rocks, and through a swamp with fruit-laden blueberry bushes. We used to go to the big field and build campfires there, cooking hot dogs over the fire and telling the kinds of stories boys tell each other when they’re just ten or eleven years old.

The other field in our neighborhood was the little field because it was…little! We used to play army in the little field because there were some rock formations there that were like fortresses. We could hide there and fire our plastic toy guns at each other, and at birds and dogs and cars driving by on the street. One day, we aimed our toy weapons at some national guard jets flying overhead. A puff of black smoke came from one. Then, it spiraled into the ground, sending up a terrible plume of smoke from just over the horizon. The pilot, we learned later, was killed. Dennis Astrella and I looked at each other with a horrified look. How our toy guns had shot down a real jet was a complete mystery to us. So we concocted this plan to blame it on my younger brother Steve. Days later, we learned that there was some kind of mechanical failure in the airplane, causing the crash. That made us feel better, but we never did tell my brother Steve who I think, to this day, still believes he did it!

What I remember most about the little field though, is the tree house Dennis Astrella and I built. It was quite a ways up in a big old oak tree. Dennis and I used his father’s power saw one day to cut up some short lengths of two-by-fours which we nailed to the trunk of the tree, one above the other, about two feet apart. That made a ladder over which we hauled some more wood which we laid across a couple a strong branches toward the top of the tree. Some plywood made a sturdy floor, and from there we added walls and even half a roof to keep the rain out. It was quite a thing, that tree house!

We used to store piles of little crab apples up there. These we threw down at my brother Steve and any other little kids trying to get up the tree, or for that matter, just walking by. And there in the tree house, we kept a library of MAD Magazines, and Boy’s Life, and all the modern conveniences which, in those days, amounted to a little transistor radio and a flashlight which might come in handy in an emergency.

Our tree house was a special place. It was there we learned how to inhale cigarettes, although we became so dizzy doing it the first time we were unable to come down from the tree house for hours. It was there we used to talk about the deep things of life, including what might happen if a missile was launched from Cuba during the crisis that was going on there, and Dennis and I were the last ones left alive on earth.

And it was also to the tree house that I used to go sometimes, just to be alone. When I was in trouble, when things weren’t right, when I was mad at the world or it was mad at me, when I suffered losses like the death of my grandfather, I would climb those thirty or forty feet. I would slip through its open door and plunk myself down within its walls, looking up at the canopy of leaves you could see through the portion of the roof we never finished. And there I was safe. Protected. And somehow strengthened by its quietness.

Did you ever have a tree house?

Perhaps it wasn’t in a tree. For many people, it’s a room in their house. Or a spot along the lake. Or an outlook on a mountain ridge. Or a trail through the forest.

Many of us have a sacred place to which we go when life gets hard.

Today, on the first Sunday in Lent, the Bible invites us to use another such a sanctuary. A place we can go when things get rough. A safe place. A protected place. A place where we can sort things out, and gain some perspective. A sacred place where we can be nurtured and refreshed and strengthened.

Psalm 91 tells us this shelter has a name.

It’s name is…God.

Many of us have never thought of God as a place. But listen to the Psalmist:

“My refuge, and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.”

This is the Psalm Jesus quoted when he fasted for forty days in the wilderness, and afterwards was tempted by the Devil. The way Jesus dealt with the powerful temptations and challenges he faced in life was by going to God as his tree house – his refuge – his fortress. Clearly, Jesus believed the three tremendous promises contained within the Psalm:

First, that God will deliver us from evil.

You see, life is full of hardship and difficulty. The greatest, of course, is that, sooner or later, we will all die. And burning at the heart of life’s hurts and at the heart of death itself is this terrible force we call evil. And evil’s desire is to use the difficulty of life and the tragedy of death and loss to destroy human beings and our humanity..

But God makes us a promise. Though we will pass through hard times, and though we will one day die, he will deliver us from evil’s plan! So important was this promise to Jesus that, when he taught his disciples how to pray, he brought them back to the words of this Psalm whose promise we pray every time we say the Lord’s Prayer.

Deliver us from evil.

That’s the first promise of this beautiful Psalm that Jesus held onto. When you and I face the intricate challenges of what life has to offer each day, we are invited to climb up into God, to come to God as our tree house. And there, in the safety of its walls, he promises to deliver us from evil’s plans.

Second, Jesus believed the promise that God will cover us with his wings!

A while ago, the choir sang that beautiful anthem based upon this 91st Psalm. Did you hear the words of the refrain, “And he will bear you up on eagle’s wings…”?

One of the wonderful images of God used in the Bible is that of a mother eagle, carrying her babies to safety, and here in Psalm 91, an eagle spreading her wings over her young.

I sometimes picture this scene in my prayers when I’m feeling as though I need protective walls around me. Often, I imagine God spreading his wings over those who lay in hospital beds, and over their loved ones as they pour themselves out worrying and waiting.

In the course of every week, there are moments when you and I need God to insulate us and protect us. So God says, “Come! Climb up into my branches. Let me cover you with my wings for awhile!”

And the third promise of the Psalm that Jesus surely believed is about angels.

“For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.”

A Time Magazine/CNN poll a few years back tells us that 69% of Americans believe in angels; 46% believe they have a guardian angel; almost one-third say they have, at one time or another, personally felt an angelic presence in their life.

There is great interest in angels today. Oprah has her Angel Network. Television shows like “Touched By An Angel” are aired in Prime Time. Even the comic strip Family Circus speaks to the issue on one occasion where Billy comes into the house all tattered and torn. He looks like he’s been in a wreck, then a fight, and then dragged for a mile or two by a team of wild horses. He asks, “Do guardian angels take days off?”

According to Psalm 91, they never do. And that’s what Jesus believed. That’s probably why he said what he did in Matthew 18:10 about the guardian angels of children who continually represent them before God in heaven.

“He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways.”

And the Gospels tell us that, as Jesus faced his trials in the wilderness, God’s angels came and ministered to him.

You and I need the help of angels, too. And angels come, when we go to God, our fortress.

Here at the beginning of the Lenten season, as we take a closer look at our Lord and at our faith, I want to you to see God in this wonderful way.

Like a shelter. A refuge. A fortress. A tree house.

And I want to invite you, as you walk through the hills and valleys of life this week, to go to him every day. Perhaps in the morning, when the world is still. Perhaps in the evening, as you go to bed. And especially during the day, whenever you need to get off by yourself, where you and God can sort things out together.

For when you crawl up those crude boards and plop down inside God’s tree house…

…God delivers you from evil…

…spreads his wings to protect you…

…and sends his angels to help you.

Jesus believed it to be so.

As you face the challenges you will face this week, I pray that you will believe it, too!