The Third Sunday of Lent
Psalm 63:1-8; Exodus 3:1-15; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; Luke 13:1-9
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I.
The loss of memory can be devastating.
You have perhaps seen this in a loved one getting old. Perhaps even you yourself have experienced trauma-induced amnesia or known someone who has.
Churches can lose their memories too, and with it their histories and their identities.
Jesus has this to say to the forgetful church at Ephesus in Revelation 2:4, “But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first.”
In the very next verse comes the admonishment to remember. Jesus says, “Remember then from what you have fallen.”
When a specific congregation or an entire denomination loses its memory, the consequences are spiritually disastrous.
After commanding the church at Ephesus to remember, Jesus adds, “repent and do the works you did at first.”
Failure to remember and repent means the church will cease to be a church. “If not,” Jesus continues, “I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.”
The removal of the lampstand is a figurative way of saying that Ephesus would lose its standing among the churches of Christ, she would cease to be a church, simply by forgetting who she is.
I am sure I don’t have to remind you that I think this is exactly what has happened to many churches.
They have forgotten what their first love is, which is, and can only ever be, love for Jesus.
They have forgotten what works they did at first, which is the teaching and discipling of men, women, and children, in the truth of God’s word.
Furthermore, I would say that it’s too late for many of these churches. Jesus has, in fact, already removed their lampstands.
The fact that they can pay the bills and keep the lights on (for now) is irrelevant. They are no longer churches.
They have become something else. Something dangerous to the members that remain in them and to their surrounding communities.
II.
Today’s readings from Exodus and Luke both talk about the need for the Church to recover her memory, specifically to recover the memory of the covenant God has made with her.
In Exodus, we read about the Angel of the Lord, which appears to Moses in a burning bush.
Curious to see what this strange site is, Moses says, “I will turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.”
What happens next is interesting, and I want you to pay close attention.
Verse 4 tells us, “When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!”
There’s something about Moses’ “turning aside” that impresses God. It reminds me a bit of what we read last week, in Genesis 15:6, “And he believed the Lord; and he reckoned it to him as righteousness.”
There is something about the little efforts that Abraham and Moses make that pleases God.
For Abraham, it was nothing more than believing that the God who promised he would have descendants as numerous as the stars was also the kind of God who could make it happen.
It was enough for God to see Abraham’s simple trust and to count that trust for much more than it could ever measure up to on its own. From that simple seed of faith God imputed the full flower of righteousness to Abraham.
For Moses, it seems to be his curiosity that pleases God. Remember, we are dealing with the recovery of memory and of the spiritual identity that comes with remembering who God is.
Moses and the Israelites have largely forgotten the promises made to their forefather Abraham. They are slaves in Egypt. Moses is now an old man himself. For 40 years he has tended his father-in-law’s flock. He has mostly forgotten his old life in Pharaoh’s court. They have largely forgotten, but not entirely.
So, Moses has turned aside to see what this great sight is.
God then calls to Moses, “Moses, Moses!” and Moses answers, “Here am I.”
God has to remind Moses of the proper etiquette when meeting with God, “Then he said, ‘Do not come near; put off your shoes from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’”
But what really jogs Moses’ memory are the next words that God says, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”
We know those words hit home — you can just imagine Moses’ eyes widening as he drops his staff and is beside himself — because the next thing the Bible tells us is that “Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.”
III.
Part of a preacher’s job is to midwife this kind of face-to-face encounter with God.
Although preachers don’t call to their people from the midst of a literal burning bush, you do have a symbol of that right here in this church. I’m standing in it.
The pulpit is, or should be, on fire with the word of God. Each of you ought to be able to leave this place today and say to your family and friends, “I saw a man burning this morning, but he was not consumed.”
Preaching ought to inspire the men and women who walk by to turn aside and see this great sight.
But how many preachers see that as their purpose? How many congregations are willing to stand behind the man who is willing to burn alive? Do our associations and our conferences and our denominations raise up and support these kinds of men? Or do they prefer that we engage in collective forgetting?
It’s understandable if we’d rather forget. It is easier that way, at least for the time being.
Abraham was a monotheist. That was his great insight. He put his trust in the one true God. But that meant that the idols of his friends and neighbors could not be allowed to stand.
By himself, Abraham knew he was not strong enough to take on a world of darkness. This is why he believed God when God said that his descendants would number as the stars.
It is going to take an army of preachers willing to burn alive in their pulpits to put things right in this world.
IV.
God commissions Moses to go and confront Pharaoh. God says in verse 10, “Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring forth my people, the sons of Israel, out of Egypt.”
This story resonates down through the ages because all of us are born in Egypt. All of us are born slaves to sin, and without a Moses to preach to us, that’s where we will die, in Egypt, in our sins.
So, ask yourself this: do you want that preacher to burn for your sake? For your children’s sake? For your country’s sake? Or would you rather he busies himself with dainties and soft words and forgettable sermons?
Notice too that God not only commissions Moses to bring his people out of Egypt, He brings them out for a specific purpose: so that they can go to church.
In verse 12, God says, “when you have brought forth the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God upon this mountain.”
Yet people forget Sunday. They forget church. They don’t remember the mountain. They don’t remember the God they serve.
But can you blame them? How many of our churches have a man burning alive in them to remind them? Not very many.
The point is that the Church needs to be reminded constantly of the covenant. She needs to have her memory restored and renewed. Otherwise, she is just another dead branch.
Moses anticipates that God’s people back in Egypt will have forgotten the covenant almost as much as he has. So, what will be the name he gives to the people? What will be the verbal cue, the thing that makes them remember after nearly 400 years of bondage and forgetfulness?
Pay attention to Moses’ question to God in verse 13:
Then Moses said to God, “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what shall I say to them?”
God’s answer comes in the very next verse:
God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘I am has sent me to you.’”
I AM is the old covenant name for God that the people were sure to remember. I AM is even how Jesus reminds us he is God. Seven times in the Gospel of John Jesus calls Himself, “I am.”
I am the bread of life, I am the light of the world, I am the door of the sheep, I am the good shepherd, I am the resurrection and the life, I am the way, the truth, and the life, and I am the true vine.
The true vine, we’ve been talking about this vine for several weeks now. It is the only means by which the dead branches are brought back to life.
The memory of the covenant, the memory of who God is, needs to be recovered in every generation, and preferably every Sunday.
This is one reason we have communion every week. It is a ritual reminder of who God is: the God whose own Son came and ministered to us, preached to us, died for us, and yet who was not destroyed by death.
Just as the flames did not consume the bush, so the cross could not consume the life that is in Christ. And far from forgetting Him, we remember Him week by week.
When you go into a dead church, you’ll be surprised how quickly it comes back to life at the Name of Jesus.
Think about it. Think of the most lost church you can think of, where the gospel is never preached, and its message is indistinguishable from today’s most radical, progressive, and fashionable causes.
Speak the Name of Jesus there and you’ll feel the ground shake beneath your feet. That old Bible will begin to speak again. Someone will find the old hymnals. The stained glass, the cross, and the organ will stop bearing silent witness to the Master and will ring out once again, shouting and singing their Hosannas.
No association, no conference, no presbytery, no bishop, no pope, no denomination can long stand against you once you’ve shaken them to their core with this holy Name and caused them to remember who they are.
The Name of Jesus, if you say it enough, if you pray it enough, if you believe it enough, will always remind the Church who she really is.
V.
Now, before I end, we need to look at this parable from Jesus about the fig tree that bore no fruit for three years.
Jesus has a thing for fig trees. It’s one of His favorite metaphors for judgment. In the gospels of Matthew and Mark, He curses a fig tree for not having fruit on it when He was hungry. The fig tree is a metaphor for the old Church of Israel, which did not produce worship that pleased God. It had forgotten its purpose.
In today’s reading the fig tree escapes that fate. The owner wants the tree destroyed after three fruitless years. Why? Because it is wasting the soil. The fruitless tree consumes natural resources yet bears nothing. “Cut it down,” the owner says, “why should it use up the ground?’”
That’s a very important lesson. Apostate churches aren’t just a problem for their own members, they “use up” the very communities in which they’ve been planted. They are a source of false teaching, a false sense of community, and they spread social contagion.
Make no mistake: if they are not rescued, if they are not preached to, if they are not called to repentance, or having been called, if they do not repent, they will be rooted up.
But we have another possible outcome before us in today’s gospel reading.
The vinedresser says, “‘Let it alone, sir, this year also, till I dig about it and put on manure. And if it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
Now, it should be obvious, but I will spell it out for you. Who do you think the vinedresser is? Of course, it’s the holy seed, Jesus Christ, come to save one more dead branch.
Who do you think the fig tree is that has been given another year of grace? Of course, it’s our church right here, First Church Woodbury. Can’t you see how God has ordained that this very scripture should speak to us in this present hour?
Yet there are other churches near us too. Are they not in similar circumstances? Do they not risk the same fate?
What if we, having regained our health, having benefited from the vinedresser’s tender care, what if we now refuse to help our neighbors? Or are we content to say to the Master, “Cut them down. Why should they use up the ground?”
I submit to you that is not the way. We cannot have such disregard for our neighbors. Having remembered who we are, we cannot forget our kinsmen still in bondage back in Egypt.
Preached on March 23, 2025 at the First Congregational Church, Woodbury, Connecticut.
Reflection Questions
Jesus warns the church at Ephesus about abandoning their first love and calls them to remember. What are some ways we, as a church, might have drifted from our “first love” for Jesus, and how can we rediscover it in our daily lives?
Moses’ curiosity led him to turn aside and encounter God in the burning bush. What “burning bushes”—moments or signs—might God be placing in our lives or our church to get our attention, and how can we respond with courage like Moses?
The sermon suggests that a preacher’s role is to burn alive with God’s word from the pulpit. How can we, as a congregation, support and encourage our leaders to boldly proclaim truth, even when it’s uncomfortable?
God reminds Moses of His identity as “I AM,” jogging the memory of His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. How does remembering who God is—His unchanging nature—shape the way we face challenges in our personal faith or as a church?
The parable of the fig tree shows Jesus as the vinedresser pleading for one more year of care. How do we see Jesus tending to us or our church right now, and what “fruit” might He be asking us to bear in this season?
The sermon ends with a call not to forget our “kinsmen still in bondage.” Who in our community—nearby apostate churches or neighbors—might need us to share the life-giving Name of Jesus, and what’s one practical step we can take to reach out?
Download the sermon handout here.
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