The Bible tells us we each carry a spark of the Divine, that we are created in the Image of God. The Bible tells us this is the core truth of our being. But in the face of grief, trauma, the lies of our culture, and just the difficulties of life, we can lose track of this truth. We can end up believing that we are, at our core, irredeemably broken.

Afterall, few of us walk around feeling deeply grounded in our inherent preciousness as one of God’s beloved. We likely do not wake up in the morning with a sense of God’s and even other people’s deep love of our very being, regardless of our behavior or life circumstances, even though this is God’s wish for us.

We are much more likely to fear or to “know” that we are, in fact, unlovable or just “not enough” in the deep, dark crevices of our souls.  

I know I have believed that before. I’m guessing you have believed that, as well, at one point or another. And maybe you believe that today, even if just creeps in the back of your mind  – maybe in different forms. We may think we’re not worthy of much without being productive or perfect or helpful or right about stuff or whatever. I’m guessing you can fill in the blank with whatever it is that keeps you from being worthy. We can so easily believe that at our core we are, not in a way that is shared universally by all of humanity, but in a way that is personal, secret, and shameful.

Well, friends, those are lies. I can tell you this with 100% assurance, in part, because I was told this with 100% assurance by others when I was caught in these sorts of lies. Thanks be to God, I trusted the one who told me I was lying to myself. And I continue to trust the people, the Bible, and God – all the ones who continue to tell me that I am indeed whole and 100% OK as I am on the days I get confused about this.

Because of this experience, I’ve come believe it’s pretty much impossible for us to simply think our way out of these lies. If I could have won this battle on my own, I would have. If I had the ability to read, think, and journal my way into a sense of deep connection with life, God, people, and all that is, I would have done so. I certainly put in the work. Thankfully, I had and have people in my life guide and accompany me, point towards hope, and shepherd me into new life. Thankfully, I have God. Thankfully, I have Jesus and the Bible. Thankfully, I have a church community and communion of saints to continue to walk with me.

We cannot be the ones to pick up our own pieces. We cannot be the ones to think our own way out of the quicksand of our fears. It’s not a failure of yours if you’ve found you cannot do so. You can’t. I can’t. None of us can. But in community with each other and in relationship with God, we can recover a sense of safety, connection, and wholeness. This is the power of community and faith.

So what does this look like, being with one another to “get through this thing called life?”

In our readings today, we heard part of the story of Ruth and Naomi; a story of accompaniment and solidarity in the face of grief and danger. Where you go, I will go, said Ruth to Naomi, who had given up on life’s possibilities.

In our gospel, Jesus grieves Lazarus even as he knows new life is to come. We grieve with one another, acknowledge the reality of the ache left in the wake of death and loss, even when we know the promise of new life is to come.

In our reading in Revelation, we hear a vision of hope painted for those who are locked in dark and dangerous times. There will be a new heaven and a new earth. The new Jerusalem will come down to where we are. We are given hope and we share hope.  

And when Lazarus came from the tomb, Jesus commanded his sisters to unbind him and let him go. Our new lives in Christ are defined by freedom. We are unbound.

These are the promises of life to come and these are the promises for our lives today. Accompaniment and shared grief in time will generate hope and new life.

Today is a day of honoring, remembering, and loving those who came before us. Those who maybe saw us as beloved children of God, when we couldn’t see it. Those who walked beside us and grieved with us. Those who saw beyond despair towards hope. And those who unbound us when God made us new yet again.

So, who have these saints been in your life? And who are the ones you are a saint to?  Being a saint can seem hard, but thankfully it’s not all up to us. The Holy Spirit moves in us and through us to support us all, for the sake of all.

For all these gifts of God, including our beloved cloud of witnesses who continue to walk with us, we give thanks.

AMEN