July 23rd,  Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Genesis 28: 10–19
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.
Genesis is a book of beginnings 8211; telling us the beginning of God’s Creation and the beginning of God’s dealings with us, his people.  Maybe that’s why I like the story of Jacob that we get in our first lesson this morning, because it tells the story of “God with us” in such a vivid way.
You see, Jacob was hardly a stellar individual, perfect in all his ways.  No.  He was a conniver, a schemer, always trying to outwit people – especially his twin brother Esau.  In fact, Jacob’s very name means ‘grasper’, one who grasps or grabs.  So, he was always trying to get or grasp more – more than his twin brother Esau had, more than his father Isaac was ready to give him.  He was worse, in other words – more competitive, more cut–throat — than any of us have been on our very worst days.  And one day, after he’d pushed things way too far, tricking Isaac to get the blessing that rightfully belonged to his older brother, Esau was finally ready to kill him, and Jacob had to flee for his life.  That day, he took off in such a hurry, such a rush he didn’t even have time to pack up a bedroll.  So, at sundown, when he arrived at Luz and darkness was already falling, Jacob simply lay down on the ground, using a smooth stone as a pillow.  And he fell asleep.
Yet, despite that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad beginning of a day, that night God appeared to this miscreant in a dream.  In his dream, Jacob saw a ladder, ascending all the way up to heaven.  And on that ladder, there were angels, beautiful angels with rainbow wings and golden slippers, ascending and descending from heaven to earth and back upwards again.
But that wasn’t all to his dream.  For in the dream God spoke to Jacob, telling him that He was going to give the ground he was lying on to him and to his offspring – a people God promised would be as numerous as the dust of the earth.  And finally, as if all that weren’t enough, God assured Jacob he would stay with them all, ensuring that his Presence would be with them forever, protecting them wherever they went.
No wonder, when Jacob awoke, he exclaimed in holy awe, “God was in this place, and I knew it not.”  For heaven had touched earth – and not just earth, but this particular flawed individual.  Jacob was astonished that a holy God would visit him, would seek him out, would promise to bless him, miscreant that he was.  He was amazed at God’s mercy.  No wonder he then set that stone he had used as a pillow all night upright – as a kind of memorial to mark the spot where the ladder’s feet had touched the ground.  No wonder he then anointed that stone with oil to consecrate the place as holy.  Indeed, on that very spot, which Jacob then named Beth–el, “House of God,” he and his descendants would later build an altar – a place where many could worship this generous God.  For in this place this young man who up to this point had cared only for himself, had suddenly learned he was not alone.  No – he was accompanied, he was embraced, he was held in love by Almighty God.
So, no wonder, when you and I were children, adults taught us to sing, “We are climbing Jacob’s ladder”.  For Jacob’s story is our story too.  Just like Jacob, little by little we all learn that God loves us, God is with us, and God promises never to forsake us.  Just like Jacob, we learn there are ways we can reach up, climb up to God – and God can reach down to us.  And just like Jacob we learn that God doesn’t love us because of who we are.  God loves us because of who God is.  And that part leads us to the end of my story this morning.
This week, as I searched for music for this morning’s service, I found an English folk song in our hymnal that’s all about this story of Jacob’s ladder.  We will sing that song as our offertory this morning.  So, if you will, I’d like you to turn to it now.  It’s in your Hymnal, Hymn number 453.
The first verse, you see, tells the story we’ve just read in our first lesson.
As Jacob with travel was weary one day, at night on a stone for a pillow he lay:
He saw in a vision a ladder so high, that its foot was on earth and its top in the sky;
then the refrain:
Alleluia to Jesus, who died on the tree and has raised up a ladder of mercy for me,
And has raised up a ladder of mercy for me.
Suddenly, as I read those words and sang them, I realized that the story of Jacob’s ladder is not simply a historical story we read in the Bible or a charming myth we teach to our children.  It’s the story of our own relationship to God – by the mercies of Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for us all.  For we too, no less than Jacob, have gotten away with plenty.  So, we too — even if we’ve never actually seen a ladder in a dream, as Jacob did — need to ascend to God on a ladder of mercy.  But our ladder of mercy, our way to Almighty God, is Jesus Christ himself who died on that tree to give us all access to Almighty God.  By grace, the unmerited favor of God, he welcomes us as we ascend.  Why does he do it?  Well, we are his children, and he cares for us more than we know.
Now some of you might now be wondering, “How can she say such things?  What proof does she have that this fairy tale story is true for us?”  Well, I don’t have a stone, anointed with oil and pointing upward to heaven to show you, as Jacob had to remind him of God’s promises.  But I do have proof of God’s presence with us – just as He promised He would be with His children forever.  And that proof is the feeling you get as you walk into this sanctuary.  Everyone feels it when they walk in here – the same sense Jacob had when he cried out – “God is in this place – and I knew it not.”  For in this place too, heaven touches earth.  And we are changed. We are transformed.
Come. Let us continue to worship Him in holy awe.  Let us ascend together to those regions of light where He, the source of our lives, awaits us.
Amen.
 
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