In February, rostered ministers of our synod conversed with Dr. Charles Campbell, Professor Emeritus of Homiletics (Preaching) at Duke Divinity School, about Lent as a time for resisting the powers that oppose God and that are at work in us, our systems and institutions, and in the world. Dr. Campbell asserts that Lent is framed in Scripture as a season of resistance to these powers. Moreover, since Lent is historically a time to prepare for baptism (or renew our baptismal promises), Lent as a time of resistance is highlighted by the extraordinary baptismal renunciations in ELW (cranberry hymnal):
Do you renounce the devil and all the forces that defy God?
Do you renounce the powers of this world that rebel against God?
Do you renounce the ways of sin that draw you from God?
Considering these renunciations in the context of the current state of our church, nation, world, and planet reminds me of words from the Ash Wednesday liturgy in LBW (green hymnal): “As disciples of the Lord Jesus we are called to struggle against everything that leads us away from love of God and neighbor. Repentance, fasting, prayer, and works of love—the discipline of Lent—help us to wage our spiritual warfare.” While ELW uses the words “contend” and “resist,” during this particular Lent, “wage our spiritual warfare” resonates with me because many people—including me—feel under attack and unmoored from values we considered unshakable and are struggling to resist and to find some semblance of equilibrium. For many people, this Lent is neither safe nor tame.
Dr. Campbell invited us to use the renunciations from our baptismal liturgy as a way of resisting the powers and, I would add, waging our spiritual warfare. How do we do this?
We dismiss the powers when they try to sidetrack us. For example, the powers might tell us that Lent is exclusively about our individual soul and spiritual life. It’s not. God has more in mind than saving souls. Again, renouncing “the devil” might sidetrack us into speculation over whether there really is a literal devil. Such speculation misses the point. The devil is evil in its concrete, real world expressions. We perceive the devil around us and experience the devil within us. A colleague calls the devil “the enemy,” as in, “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8 NIV). Those who have been pursued by the enemy intent on devouring them and defying God know the devil is not a matter for speculation. Don’t let evil, the devil, or the forces that defy God tell you otherwise.
We renounce powers, not people. I am not talking about hating the sin and loving the sinner. We get beyond deeds and those who do them to examine the powers of this world that rebel against God by working in individuals and systems, including both church and state, to contradict love of God and neighbor. For example, I have said for years that mammon—money, wealth—is working hard to replace Jesus as Lord of the church. I wonder whether the spirits of entitlement and survival undermine the church’s proclamation of the gospel. I fear the desire to hold onto power is causing civic leaders to let go of our values. Like many others, I am attempting to identify the powers at work in tariffs, pausing military aid to Ukraine, shutting down USAID, and cutting the Department of Education and Veterans Administration.
We dive deeply into scripture, not to find what we should, ought, or must be doing but to discover and remind ourselves who God is and what God is doing. From my recent sermon to the Conference of Bishops: “The good news we glimpse on the Mount of Transfiguration is that God will deliver God’s people from captivity and oppression as often as God must do it. Even when, like the worshipers of the golden calf, we bring captivity and oppression on ourselves. Injustice, oppression, infection, invasion, division, deportation, and hate will end. Jesus will lead us from these places of fear, despair, deprivation, and exhaustion to the fulfillment of God’s reign.” God’s deliverance does not depend upon us. God’s deliverance does not depend upon circumstance. God’s deliverance depends upon God. And God’s deliverance does not come without a cost; Jesus went to the cross to deliver us.
We pay attention to the verbs as we consider these renunciations—defy, rebel against, draw from God. Is this what is happening in and around us? Is something openly resisting or refusing to obey God? Is something fighting against God’s authority or rule or reign? Is something attempting to obtain something—us, our church, our world—that rightfully belongs to God? We renounce these things. We abandon, reject, stop using or consuming them. This is harder than giving up candy and the reason Lent is a “struggle” and “our spiritual warfare.”
We name the powers. Scripture teaches that, in naming the powers, they lose some of their power. Jesus asked the demon “What is your name?” and the demon replied “My name is Legion, for we are many” (Mark 5:9; Luke 8:30). We don’t learn to name the powers in our head. We name the powers by attending to our emotions and what is happening in our bodies. What is causing us to feel anxious, angry, or afraid? What is causing us to eat too much or not at all? What is making it hard to get out of bed? What is keeping us up at night? Why are we obsessed with or afraid to watch the news? How much time are we spending on social media? Push beyond the circumstances to what they cause or represent in you individually and communally. How are they influencing your routine and actions?
We renounce the powers. Actually renounce the powers out loud. “I renounce them.” If you prefer something scriptural, try, “Get behind me, Satan” (Matthew 16:23; Mark 8:33). Luther would have us stand up, face down the devil, and yell, “I am baptized! Nothing can separate me from God’s love in Jesus Christ” (Romans 8:38–39). Allow your renunciation to find expression in repentance, prayer, fasting, and works of love—the discipline of Lent—as we wage our spiritual warfare.
We do not stop at renunciation. As we do in the baptismal liturgy, we turn to what we believe. Three times, once for each Person of the Trinity, we are asked, “Do you believe?” Three times, we respond together, “I believe.” And we do not stop with these words; together we confess the Apostles Creed.
“I believe,” spoken together. This simple action emphasizes a common belonging. The Creed puts into words the church’s “I believe” so that we can speak and hear them. We can quibble about the details and lament the limits of language to capture the mystery of the triune God, including Jesus’s incarnation, passion, death, and resurrection. We certainly must be clear about what the Creed does and does not confess. We must certainly grasp that “believe” is more about “trust” then “intellectual assent.”
But the gift of the Creed is that, when the powers are so powerful that I cannot answer, “I believe,” I can stand in worship and listen to people all around me answer for me by saying the Creed and believing on my behalf. And I can recall that Christians in congregations across the ages and throughout the world saying the Creed and believing with me. Oh, and I can say the Creed myself, and perhaps discover the way I do believe. And some days I can say the Creed for no reason other than someone around me might need me to say it for them.
And together we resist the powers. After all, we can only say “I renounce” because we say “I believe.” So, I continue this Lenten journey believing for and with you—and relying on you to believe for and with me. I pray our trust in God frees and empowers us to renounce and resist the powers.
The Rev. Craig Alan Satterlee, Ph.D., Bishop