The stories we tell, the stories we remember, they shape who we are, they help us to see and to
interpret our world. They are the bones that give shape to the flesh of our lives.
What are the stories of light being brought into a dark time in our lives?
What are the stories of salvation, of life being brought to a dead place?
What stories do we tell? What do we remember?
Jesus remembers a story, a story about Moses.
The Lord sent poisonous serpents to bite and punish his rebellious and complaining people who
missed the comforts of slavery in Egypt. The Lord then told Moses to make a bronze serpent and
to lift it up on a pole for all to see, and all who looked upon the bronze serpent were saved from
the poison of their snake bites.
It’s a strange story of being given the gift of a second chance at life. It’s a strange story about
how hard it is to leave slavery behind. The road to freedom is not easy.
Where do we look to find life? What sets us free?
This story is the bone that gives shape to the flesh of the death of Jesus. Jesus must be lifted up
as well, that all may look upon the one on the cross, and be given the gift of life in a dead place,
of light in the darkness.
The cross is the radiating filament of God’s saving glory.
Look upon the one who is lifted up like Moses’ bronze serpent and find life.
Sometimes the story we tell and remember are not enough to bring shape and meaning to our
lives. Some stories are just no good, they only cause harm. Sometimes we need a new story that
saves us from a bad story. Sometimes the stories we tell enslave us and all those around us.
Where do we look to find a good story that rescues us from the bad story of ole Pharaoh down in
Egypt land?
Sacred stories. Stories of belief. The story of Moses. The story of Jesus. Stories that are
gospel, that are good news.
Where do we look? What do we look upon to find life?
The promise and grace of the Gospel story is that in the death of Jesus we find the story that is
raising the world from the dead.
The gospel bones are the bones that give shape to the flesh of our lives.
What stories will we tell?
What stories will we remember?
Stories that enslave?
Or the story that raises us up?