Palm Sunday/Sunday of the Passion, Year C
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
April 10, 2022
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
To watch the full service, please visit this page.
Where is God?
That question—along with its siblings: “What is the meaning of life?” and “Why do bad things happen to good people?”—is one of the constant themes of human existence. “Where is God?” is why we’re all here today—why any religion exists in the first place. Independent as we imagine ourselves to be, in all the uncertainties of life the human heart wants to know how to find God, however we might define that.
We may not often dwell on it, but even as Christians, most of us have this idea of a separate, immutable God, one beyond the troubles and miseries of human life. After all, when we sing about our “Immortal, invisible God only wise”[1] and how “the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see”[2], how could God be anything but above and beyond and removed from us?
Omniscient and omnipotent—we seek a God who rises above all the chaos and tragedies the universe has to offer, one sitting on a glorious throne in the courts of heaven surrounded by angels constantly singing with awe. We dream of an untouchable authority—eternal, peaceful, powerful—utterly perfect and serene, like a deep breath in a moment of silence and calm. Yet we continue to find ourselves overwhelmed with famine and war, social disruption, economic uncertainty, disease, and the tumults of the natural world. We celebrate with gratitude—rightly—whenever God steps in with a miracle here or there, but for far too much of the time we’re still stuck with our question, “Where is God?” All the while we know exactly where God is: sitting serenely in the splendor of their cosmic abode basking in praise and their own eternal beauty. So we scramble around hoping that if we pray the right prayer or think the right things or avoid hurting people, someday we too might enjoy that same paradise, completely isolated from the ills of what actually is.
No wonder people have no time for God.
To be honest, I don’t have time for that God, either—which is fine, because the God we keep imagining looks a lot more like Ba’al or Zeus than the One revealed either in the Bible or through the person of Jesus Christ. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob celebrates and mourns and gets angry and repents. Moses’ God settles their presence in the midst of the people of Israel. The Living God accepts responsibility and takes the blame for disasters.[3] We don’t serve a distant, impersonal God. We worship a God who comes down—one who doesn’t just allow or send or leave us to the trials we face but who sits with us and holds us and experiences all the pain, fear, and sorrow—all of it—right there beside us. This is the God we praise as Jesus rides an unsteady colt toward Jerusalem while the people sing. This the God we discover as our Savior cries in the garden for relief. And this is the God we see on a cross genuinely suffering along with criminals. But maybe, counterintuitive as it may sometimes feel, that’s actually a good thing, because in all our fear and despair and even in death, the God we really need is a God With Us.
We easily assume God is aligned with the great and mighty, the wealthy, the famous, and the powerful. But you’re unlikely to find God in the midst of pomp and splendor. God dwells among the poor and forgotten, abiding in solidarity with society’s outcasts and the world’s great failures. God has never been separate from or immune to the trials of human life. God actively places themself into the pain—and not just 2,000 years ago, but still today.
So where is God?
The answer sits in front of us, although it isn’t necessarily one we expect to see. We long for a God of power and glory, a God whose majesty surpasses anything we can fathom. We hold out for a God who will fulfill our dreams and reward us with prosperity and influence. Some part of us seems to want the distant, impassionate God enthroned outside of time, a God who will someday deliver us from the reality where we live into the unchanging perfection of the Divine presence. But that isn’t actually the God we need, and fortunately or not, that isn’t the God we have.
So, again, where is God?
In the life of Jesus, the answer is plain. God isn’t above or apart from or beyond but among and around and alongside. In joy, hope, and love; in grief and agony and despair, the God we have—and the God we truly need—has always been, and even today remains, with us.
[1] Hymnal 1982 #423
[2] Hymnal 1982 #362
[3] See Exodus 4:11 & Jeremiah 15:8b-c