Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, by the loving power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

On our journey from dust to deliverance, this morning we encounter providence. Providence is something we know in those trite theological phrases: "God provides." "God is good." "God never fails."

We grow up learning that providence is an attribute of God. God looks to our needs. God prepares and provides for us with grace, wisdom, prudence, benevolence and care.

As I prepared this sermon and service, I noted how few hymns use the word "providence." It is not a subject much touted among Lutherans—in teaching or in song.

Neither is it much in evidence, it turns out, in scripture. I would have thought that the bible uses the word often. But it shows up only 13 times. 11 are in the Old Testament; 2 in the New, neither of which, by the way, is translated "providence" in the New Revised Standard Version. The occurrence in Acts 24:2 is translated "foresight"; the one Romans 13:14 is rendered "provision."

In biblical times however, providence was thought of as so accurate a way of speaking of the nature of God that it came to be used almost as a synonym for God. God, the creator and sustainer of all, is the one who both made us and all that is and provides for even the tiniest of creatures. Without God's providence, there is no earth, no life, no Spirit—nothing.

It is often in times of distress that we seek the providence of God, and it is in deliverance there from that we rejoice in it. Stories of such providence abound. Here is one:

John Wesley's father, Samuel, was a dedicated pastor, but there were those in his parish who did not like him. On February 9, 1709, a fire broke out in the rectory at Epworth, possibly set by one of the rector's enemies. Young John, not yet six years old, was stranded on an upper floor of the building. Two neighbors rescued the lad just seconds before the roof crashed in. One neighbor stood on the other's shoulders and pulled young John through the window.

Samuel Wesley said, "Come, neighbors, let us kneel down. Let us give thanks to God. He has given me all my eight children. Let the house go. I am rich enough." John Wesley often referred to himself as a "brand plucked out of the fire" (Zech 3:2; Amos 4:11). In later years he often noted February 9 in his journal and gave thanks to God for his mercy. Samuel Wesley labored for 40 years at Epworth and saw very little fruit; but consider what his family accomplished! (W. Wiersbe, Wycliffe Handbook of Preaching and Preachers, Moody, 1984, p. 251)

And another:

The citizens of Feldkirch, Austria, didn't know what to do. Napoleon's massive army was preparing to attack. Soldiers had been spotted on the heights above the little town, which was situated on the Austrian border. A council of citizens was hastily summoned to decide whether they should try to defend themselves or display the white flag of surrender. It happened to be Easter Sunday, and the people had gathered in the local church.

The pastor rose and said, "Friends, we have been counting on our own strength, and apparently that has failed. As this is the day of our Lord's resurrection, let us just ring the bells, have our services as usual, and leave the matter in God's hands. We know only our weakness, and not the power of God to defend us." The council accepted his plan and the church bells rang. The enemy, hearing the sudden peal, concluded that the Austrian army had arrived during the night to defend the town. Before the service ended, the enemy broke camp and left. (source unknown)

These events, no doubt, took on greater significance and clarity as they were reflected upon. A retrospective recognition of deliverance by God from danger, disease, or evil is perhaps the most common way that we perceive God's providence. But there is much more to this part of the character of God. I believe we find something of the depth of providence in the Old Testament lesson for this morning.

The Lord said to Joshua, "Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt." And so that place is called Gilgal to this day. While the Israelites were camped in Gilgal they kept the passover in the evening on the fourteenth day of the month in the plains of Jericho. On the day after the passover, on that very day, they ate the produce of the land, unleavened cakes and parched grain. The manna ceased on the day they ate the produce of the land, and the Israelites no longer had manna; they ate the crops of the land of Canaan that year.

During the years in the wilderness, some practices of the people of Israel had fallen into disuse. Now that they had arrived in the Promised Land, it was time to return to the rituals appropriate for God's chosen people.

The first Passover, celebrated of course in Egypt, was a sign of God's care and protection—one of the great historic examples of providence. Now they are again invited to celebrate the Passover and to remember God's care and protection not only in saving their firstborn, but also for providence during the flight from Egypt and the years in the wilderness. God has indeed cared for them, and the celebration of the Passover helps them keep in mind God's continuing active presence.

The covenant relationship abides, and God continues to provide for the people. A whole generation had grown up in the wilderness under God's welfare program. Food had been delivered to the doorstep on a daily basis. After forty years they had come to rely on it. It was their diet.

Of course, at first they grumbled. The daily staple of the children of Israel was manna and quail. We think of them complaining about it, but I'd guess that after awhile they got accustomed both to the food and to the delivery system. It was fast food before its time.

From the beginning, God took care of these ancient wanderers and met all their needs. Now that they have come to the Promised Land, they're put to work—planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting the crops, tending livestock, putting up more permanent shelters than the ones they used in the wilderness. No longer must God provide directly for the needs of a people wandering in the wilderness. Now the people are expected to produce and take care of themselves, using the new providence of God—the Promised Land, and all of its resources. Now their work is the care of the land that has been entrusted to them. And God's work is their on—going care through all that nourishes land and spirit.

The times changed; the circumstances changed. So also do the ways of God's provision change. God cared for them differently. The question for the people is this: Could they see the providence of God in a new way? Did they recognize this new relationship of cooperation in food production as a form of providence?

The circumstances of our lives change too—in all-too-frequent and unexpected ways. Some are welcome; some are not. Some lift the spirit and our appreciation of God. Others severely test our faith and our ability to trust in God.

We see huge changes in our lifetimes. Think about how it was that you perceived God's care as a younger person, and then consider how different that is from how you think about it now. For some, we have forty, fifty, or eighty years of change to reflect upon. Think too how different are our perceptions from those of people in different cultures and times.

God's providence never ceases; it only changes. Our challenge, like that of the people of Israel, once gathering food granted them directly by God and then having to grow their own, is to recognize God's providence, whatever the circumstance—even if that circumstance is hardship and misfortune.

For myself, I am given to thinking of God's providence as something that is present in all times, events, places, and persons. After all, God has created everything. All that is has been touched by God and has God's signature upon it. And further, I have a powerful sense that all things happen for a reason&mdsh;that God is behind what may seem to be random events. I suppose the biblical warrant for such an attitude is in passages such as "All things work together for good for those that love the Lord."

This is not an uncommon way of thinking, and it puts into words the theological principle of providence. For my way of thinking, it would be most accurate to say that all events have meaning—that the hand of God may discerned in the everyday activities of life. This is a thought we discussed a bit at the Wednesday bible study as we reflected on some of the more troubling things that happen to people.

And I believe that it is our spiritual challenge to discern how God is using our experiences and us. It is our calling, in brief, to make meaning—discern meaning—from what happens to us, so that what appears as mere experience becomes a window into God's providential care. Again, even, and perhaps especially, the troubling experiences.

I see God's providence in the people God calls to be a part of this fellowship. I see it in the wonderful home that Marie and I are beginning to make our own and enjoy. I see it in the varied ministries of individuals and groups here at St. Thomas. I see it in the faces of my wife and children. I see it in spring's first signs of new growth. I even see it in the personal growth that was forced following my divorce many years ago.

I hear it in our singing of hymns, in the beautiful sound of this organ, and in the resonant acoustics of this sanctuary. I hear it in the cry of grief, the rush of wind, the song of birds, the sound of rain. I hear it in the voice of children—even during worship.

I taste it in the wonderful diversity of foods—I am already thoroughly enjoying the wide variety of restaurant choices available in Bloomington. And, of course, I taste it most fully in the bread and the wine of the Lord's Supper, where the providence of God is most completely present with us and in us, in the meal that remembers the one who taught us the true profundity and anguish of God's ultimate provision for us—Jesus Christ our Lord.

As the Israelites were challenged, so today are we. God is our providence. God is Providence. It is right here among us, touching us, calling us to discover its meaning.

Do you perceive it? How does it touch you? And how might it help you on your journey from dust to deliverance? Amen.