Okay, church. We’ve been hitting the books. We talked about the many voices in scripture and why that matters. We’ve talked about how context is everything; putting stories in context helps us hear what is being said and how to apply it to our context.

Today, we’re going to wrestle with the text. If you are reading the bible and always come away feeling comforted, you’re reading it wrong. Now, sure, there are parts that are meant to comfort us. We have Psalm 23. Even though there’s the valley of the shadow of death, there’s also a table. God’s rod and staff comfort us. Even in the presence of our enemies, our cup overflows and our head is anointed with oil.

Yet some days, we need a good lament. Psalm 69: I’m up to my neck, God. Where are you?! People are mocking me for my faith in you. Things are so bad, I am the song of drunkards.

And some days, a great Psalm of praise! Psalm 19! Praise the Lord for God’s laws are perfect! The sun runs its course day after day, and I will delight in science!

And there are parts of the Bible meant to challenge your life and confront your flaws, not just make you feel safe and happy. The prophets. Jesus’ words for those who are too certain. Paul’s rules and regulations. This is evidence of the many voices of scriptures. Today, I’m going to try to both comfort and challenge you today as we wrestle with this text. Let’s start with comforting.

Today’s Exodus reading is the dramatic parting of the Red Sea. I don’t believe the bible because it happened, but because it’s happening. I’m sure there have been times in your life where you felt like there was no way you could go forward. Something happened. You felt trapped in your career. There was a loss so great you didn’t think you could go on. There was a diagnosis or a test that came back with dire news. We have all been there. And if you haven’t, one day you will be. Like the Israelites, we feel like we have a pursuing army coming at us and we’re backed up to a sea. There is no way out.

Yet God makes a way out of no way. Something parted. Something shifted. Something happened and we’re still here. We survived the job; got a promotion or made a move to another job or career. We came through the diagnosis with the support of God and neighbor. We found our grief was love with nowhere to go until we recognized that while the proximity of our loved one changed, their love is still within us. The sea parted. And we found ourselves on the other side. A little bewildered by the experience. Fearing the power of God and astonished at the turn of events.

It’s natural to put ourselves in the place of the Israelites. They’re the good guys after all. It’s a comforting place to be. Yet it is a little terrifying to walk along the seabed and look at the walls of water of the parted sea. You set out in faith and God provided you a way through.

Yet last Sunday, I stated that we might not be the Israelites. We are the global superpower. We might be the Egyptians in this story. Here comes the challenge section.

Pharoah’s heart was hardened. He ignored the plight of the immigrant Israelite slaves in his country. It took plagues and frogs and boils and then the terror of children dying for Pharoah to let the people go. And yet here’s the Egyptians pursuing the Israelites and paying the ultimate price for it. It makes me think that there are some things we are pursuing that maybe we shouldn’t.

Maybe it’s a career or a desire to be super wealthy. And it’s making us a sociopath. Pulling us away from friends and family. Making us a stranger to our children. We want the house, the car, and the Instagram lifestyle, but we are hollowed out. We dehumanizing others and treating them as slaves and a means to our ends. Maybe we shouldn’t be pursuing that as maybe one day the waters will close over our heads.

Maybe we’re seeking a cure for something that can’t be cured. I believe we can still be healed without being cured. We can accept the things we cannot change and have the wisdom and courage to change the things that can. Maybe we’re pursuing a cure when we need to be pursuing healing.

Maybe we’re pursuing someone who won’t return our affections. Or we’re pursuing the ideal of a relationship, even though our relationship with this person won’t ever be ideal. Or maybe we’re pursuing something outside our marriage vows and shouldn’t be. Maybe we shouldn’t be pursuing that as maybe one day the waters will close over our heads.

Maybe we’re pursuing comfort, when we need to pursue service. We’re pursuing things that are causing anxiety, and that’s bleeding onto our partner, family, and friends.

Maybe we’re pursuing being right and certain in our faith. Paul wrote a whole letter to a church wrestling with exactly that. And then, in Romans 14, he says some people eat anything while the “weak” eat only vegetables. Weird, until you put the letter in context and remember this is a blended congregation of former Jews and former Gentiles trying to figure out how to share a table. One says, “God created all food. Pass the steak.” Another says, “I’m not comfortable with meat. I’ll stick with vegetables.” Paul calls one “strong” and the other “weak,” because he wants all to find freedom in Christ. He’s showing his bias and yet he refuses to let either side look down on the other. Paul isn’t interested in winning the theological food fight. He’s asking whether our convictions are building up the community or tearing it apart.

In our context, I see whole congregations pursuing the “right belief.” Are you saved? How do you know you’re going to heaven? I don’t read Jesus saying much about that in the scriptures. I do see him pursuing forgiveness a lot. He tells a whole parable about it today. The whole thing has nothing to do with getting to heaven and everything to do about bringing heaven here through how we forgive one another. I have no interest in pursuing a ticket to heaven theology here. It’s not what the Bible is interested in either.

When we wrestle with scripture, we are changed. I have a very high view of scripture. I absolutely love it. Not because it’s an easy read. Not because I always walk away comforted. But because I’m forced to consider myself and human nature because it’s so different. The stories it tells aren’t ones I’m often used to hearing or those I seek out in other parts of my life.

We must wrestle meaning from the text and figure out how to approach it. When are we looking for a way out of no way? When are we pursing the wrong things? These don’t have to be binary either. Both things can be true at the same time.

I look at our culture pursuing all the wrong things. Partisanship. Hatred of the “other.” A narrowing of who belongs here and who doesn’t. Pursuing wealth and letting the rich tip the scales and waiting for something to trickle down, but it never does. And the price of everything is creeping up because someone decided that electricity is free for data centers but not for people. We seem to be pursuing all the wrong things.

And yet I believe we follow a God that makes a way out of no way. We follow a God who parts the seas. Who will hold us accountable. Who will ask, “Why didn’t you forgive as I have forgiven you?”

I see an end to the hatred. An end to racism, sexism, and homophobia. An end to war. I want us to hold true to the values we hold dear civically, a reminder that we want our funds to go to things like roads, sidewalks, first responders, and feeding the hungry and not lining the pockets of politicians and multinational corporations.

I want churches to make folk better neighbors. Not more certain in their doctrines, that they have it right and are going to heaven. That’s escapism. Jesus was not about escapism. He named the wrongs. Suffered our worst. Forgave us from the cross. Came back and comforted us as well as challenged us to do the things he did.

In doing so, we reshaped the world. As I read church history, as I read the witness of the saints both of this congregation, and of other nations… I find both comfort and challenge. Here is someone who cared. Here’s someone who rose to the challenge. They wrestled with their call and they prevailed. I look out at you all and I see the same.

I take comfort that here are folks who get it. Whose stories have led them here. The headlines are telling me that the world is full of terrible people, but my life is challenging those headlines. I know you. I see you. You give me comfort. You also give me challenge.

Both are true at the same time. And that is why I love scripture.

I love it because it is comfort and challenge. Often at the very same time. It tells us, “The sea can part.” And it also asks us, “What are you pursuing?” It tells us God makes a way out of no way. And it also warns us that some roads we are racing down may end with the waters closing over our heads. Which, I’ll admit, can be maddening for the weak in faith who just want the easy answer without the wrestling. I would much rather have the Bible pick one lane. Comfort me or confront me. Bless me or correct me. Tell me I’m the Israelite on dry ground or tell me I’m Pharaoh with a hardened heart. But scripture is rarely that tidy. And neither is life. So we are invited to wrestle. To wrestle blessing from the hard stories. To wrestle truth from the pages. To wrestle meaning from scripture and from the pages of our own lives.

And when we hit the books with ears to hear the many voices, when we read them in context, when we let them comfort us and challenge us, we become people with more tools for the living of our days. More courage to face what feels impossible. More humility to stop pursuing what is killing us. More forgiveness for the people around our tables. More imagination for what the church can be in the world.

The sea can still part. The hard heart can still soften. The wrong pursuit can still end. The community can still forgive. The church can still become a better neighbor. And by God’s grace, through our faithful wrestling, we can leave this world a little better for those who come after us. Thanks be to God. Amen.