A pastor friend and his wife once adopted a young cat that bounced up to his parsonage looking hungry and friendless. From the beginning of the relationship, the cat readily came to them and blissfully stroked her whiskers against their outstretched hands. She was comfortable with people. My friends were quite willing to provide for the cat's few needs: food, fresh water, a potent flea collar, and some affection. For the most part, the cat stayed outside, springing up to greet them when they returned from work each evening. They let the cat in occasionally, grateful that she understood the idea behind a litter box. Cleaning day revealed a trauma from the cat's past. When a broom appeared in their hands, they discovered a hidden hurt in their new friend. At the sight of a broom, the eyes of the affectionate, trusting cat grew wide with terror, and she bounded off in a panic. Some mean-spirited person had used a broom to abuse the cat, and the fear hadn't gone away, even in a trusting relationship. A sweet cat carried an emotional scar from the past.
The past often intrudes into our present. Something happened long ago, but the emotional scars still ache today. Often, these emotional scars come from some authority figure who treated us badly. Maybe a teacher didn't know how to mix in fairness with discipline. We look back on tirades of that teacher and still wince at the hurt. Maybe older children chose us as the target of their cruelty. Any variation from the norm -- too small, too big, or just different somehow -- seems to trigger a response in kids to bully. We never did anything to them, but for some reason they chose to torment us.
We have to be honest. More times than we care to admit, the ones who left us with emotional scars were our own parents. Raising children is difficult, and some parents never get it right. Maybe the discipline is too strict. Maybe the parents are dealing with their own pain, and take it out on their children. Sometimes, parents don't realize how hurtful their words are. Too often, parents haven't grown up themselves. Sometimes, the parents haven't dealt with their own childhood hurts, and pass them along to their children. In any case, the scars linger, shooting a pain through our souls when we least expect it.
A woman once stammered out her story at an Al-Anon meeting about a decades-old humiliation. She had borrowed her mother's shoes without asking. A big high school dance was all the buzz, and she wanted to look sharp. In the middle of the dance -- in front of everyone -- her mother staggered in, barely able to stand, reeking of liquor. In the mother's hands was a pair of the daughter's shoes. She had no place to hide, no hole opened up to swallow her. Her mortification was on display for everyone to see. Decades later, she could not recount the story without choking up.
We don't like to talk about it, but, too often, parents are guilty of downright abuse. Parents betray their children verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually. The childhood that should be marked by innocence becomes a horror. The pain, guilt, and shame stretch into a lifetime. No part of life goes untouched. Not long ago, police in Phoenix found twin boys who had been locked in cages by their parents. Even though the boys were five years old, they could not talk. Even with the best intervention, the boys will likely never lead even the semblance of a normal life.
It is not only parents who abuse children. The carpet has been pulled back and the dirty secret revealed. With all of the publicity, we all know what some children knew only too well. Members of the clergy and church leaders abuse children, too. Abuse is bad enough, but abuse by a church leader leaves an even deeper scar. When the abuse happens in church, even our faith in God can be mangled.
From one source or another, many of us carry scars from the past. These scars can be stubborn. We try to ignore them, we do our best to work around them, but they just won't go away. They clutch on to our souls with both hands, refusing to let go. With all the emotional strength we have, we keep them stuffed down, but when we are tired or stressed, they bubble up to the surface, bringing the original pain right along with them.
The pain itself is bad enough, but we get weary of dealing with pain. The weariness with our pain is a source of grief. As someone said, we get sick and tired of being sick and tired. This pain is a lonely experience, leaving us wondering if anyone understands us.
The prophet Ezekiel understood the pain of those who had been betrayed by their leaders. The failure of Judah's leaders had led to disaster. Everything had collapsed: the economy, society, and security. Even the people's faith had been rattled. The Babylonian army had come through and trampled everything.
In the first part of Ezekiel's book, chapters 1-24, Ezekiel tries to wake the people up in an attempt to divert the catastrophe. Ezekiel uses some harsh language trying to get through to the people. Once disaster strikes, and the people's spirit is crushed, Ezekiel changes gears. Now he speaks words of comfort, of restoration, of renewal. In chapter 34, our passage for this morning, Ezekiel compares the people to sheep whose shepherds have abused and abandoned them. Ezekiel speaks to people with deep scars.
Ezekiel begins by chastising the leaders of Judah who have betrayed the people they were supposed to safeguard. In stern language, Ezekiel speaks on behalf of God to rebuke the leaders for their failures. "You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them" (34:4). When we have been betrayed, one of our first impulses is rage at what has been done to us. Ezekiel's rebuke indicates that God notices the abuse and neglect. Surely, to hear that God was angry with Judah's leaders was a catharsis for the people. When we have been hurt, we have to walk a fine line that avoids vindictiveness, but honestly expresses our anger. We cannot allow ourselves to hate those who have hurt us, but it can be healing to express our bottled up anger. God's anger at abusers gives us permission to ventilate our own anger.
After his words of indignation at the leaders who have abused their people, Ezekiel offers words of comfort to those who carry the scars, those who limp in body and soul. As we move through the text, we see that Ezekiel's description of God's care for those who hurt is comprehensive and thorough. God's grace reaches deep in offering healing. As Ezekiel speaks to the people of Judah, we can hear words of grace for ourselves.
To those who feel abandoned and neglected, God promises reconciliation. "For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out" (34:11). God will search out the sheep that have been scattered. God will reach out to those who think no one cares. God will seek out the lonely and the lost.
Once God has found the lost sheep, God offers them security. "I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries, and will bring them into their own land; and I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, by the watercourses, and in all the inhabited parts of the land" (34:13). What the people of Judah heard in this was that they could return to the land wrenched away from them by the Babylonians. What we hear is that God will make a safe place for us to overcome our wounds. In God's care, we are secure from the shame and guilt abuse has left us with. We are free to grow and stretch. We are nourished by God's own spirit.
Once the sheep have experienced security, God offers healing itself. "I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak" (34:16). The people of Judah heard in these words that God would soothe the pain of exile. We hear in it that God will bind up the pain of the past. God will work in us to bring us peace, courage, and even joy. Our wounds may run deep, and our feelings may threaten to overwhelm us, but God's grace is deeper than our hurt.
God offers the exiles hope for a better future: "I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd. And I, the Lord, will be their God" (34:23-24a). Ezekiel's congregation heard in this the promise that a descendant of David would bring political and social stability. We hear in it the anticipation of the reign of God, begun in Jesus the Christ and brought to completion in God's time. God will wipe away all of our tears in that time. We do not have to wait for God's reign to come in its fullness before we hope in God. God's grace reaches into our lives now, bringing healing and hope. Still, we have hope in the fullness of God's reign that the problems we never quite overcome in this life will be redeemed in God's future.
Everyone here can point to some pain from the past that nags at us, that affects the way we experience life, is a part of who we are, and maybe even has robbed our lives of joy. Overcoming such pain is not easy or quick. Ezekiel assures us, though, that God knows our pain, cares about our pain, and is seeking us out to bring us wholeness. Sometimes, God works through support groups, pastoral counseling, or therapy. We do not have to give in to the pain; we do not have to let it win. God is working for us and in us. Let us open ourselves to God's grace. Let us allow ourselves to trust God. Let us embrace hope. Let us overcome the past and live into God's future.