Reinhabiting our Story: A Sermon on Ezra 6:19-22

March 13, 2025

A sermon on Ezra 6:19-22, given in Wycliffe Chapel on Tuesday 11th March 2025.

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My favourite thing about moving house?

When it comes to moving house, there are a few moments that I really enjoy. Most of it, I could do without, but there are a couple of key markers that I really do like.

The first is when, after all your worldly goods have been packed up and moved into the new house, you unpack enough to have a place to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea. Maybe even enough to have the TV set-up, so you can watch a show while you eat pizza and recover from all the hard work. A corner of normal amidst a sea of moving boxes and furniture. It feels good!

And there are other moments along the road too. When a room is completely unpacked. When the kitchen is finally organised enough that you can cook. Little moments of joy, amidst the chaos of moving boxes, as you establish life in a new place.

But my favourite is the one that might not come till a week or two—or month or two—later: when the pictures are hung on the walls. Those cherished items we’ve accumulated over time that are visible reminders of the key moments, people and things that have happened to get you to where you are.

Getting the pictures on the walls makes the house not just anyone’s house, but uniquely our house. The McBays. From the Mexican framed mirrors, ordination gifts, pieces of art crafted by family and friends. Wedding photos and pictures of places we’ve called home.

It’s not the Lloyds’. The Terrys’. Certainly not the Screnocks’. It’s our story. [These names are a reference to the families of three much loved—and respected!—colleagues.]

Ezra 6 and putting up pictures

So, I invite you today to indulge me in this analogy, which might be a bit of a stretch: perhaps what we have here in Ezra 6, and the description of the first Passover after the exile, is maybe just a little bit like the putting up of pictures on the walls of your home after a house move.

If you need some convincing, here’s why: because what we have in Ezra 6 is (a) the end of journey to a new home and (b) a visible remembrance of the story of how they came to be.

(a) Ezra 6: The end of a long journey

We have been on a long journey through first 6 chapters of Ezra. The oh-so lengthy recounting of all the names of all the people who made the trip from Babylon back to Judah. The beginning of laying the foundations of the temple. The complications and setbacks of getting it built. Finally getting it done, installing the priests and Levites and last week, having it all dedicated.

The next chapter (Ezra 7) jumps into the arrival of Ezra on the scene: taking us decades forwards in the story.

These verses are the close to the opening act. The end of a long beginning.

(b) Ezra 6: A visible remembrance of their story

While the reading today is just four verses long, they describe an important moment of remembrance of how the people of Israel came to be.

At the end of the journey back to Jerusalem, they celebrate Passover and the festival of unleavened bread. In doing so, they remember their story. The story of how they came to be a freed people in the first place, how they’d been delivered out of an oppressive and burdensome existence in Egypt. A story of a God who had heard their cries and struggles for help. A story that concluded with the first entry into the Promised Land.

A story retold again and again throughout Scripture. Remembered and rehearsed.

Importantly, it was not just the story that reminded them of who they were, but it was a story that reminded them of who their God is.

Ezra 6: A lot more than just putting up pictures

But of course, Ezra 6 is also a whole lot more than putting up cherished photos and pictures around your house, even if those pictures tell stories about the life you’ve lived.

Photos on a wall are static. They aren’t like paintings in Harry Potter which you can at least converse with. Nor are they like the chalk drawings in Mary Poppins that Mary and Bert jump into; where they get to go to the races and dance with penguins.

Pictures in a home might bring a smile to your face or a thought to your mind of precious memories, but then you get back to the business of your day.

But in Passover, the people embodied a story through a physical act of worship, though preparation and purification—and then through participation in the meal itself.

Through their observance of Passover, the distant past, the stories of their ancestors, became the story of the returned exiles. Remembering this story of God’s deliverance was a re-embodiment of the story where the God who did that for them now is now doing it for us.

Ezra 6: a diligent observance of Passover

Our reading is pretty clear that when it came to celebrating Passover, the people were diligent in that re-enactment—something that had not always been the case. 2 Chronicles 30 describes another Passover (during Hezekiah’s reign) that was a month delayed, with issues around preparedness and purification that left the Levites ashamed and meant Hezekiah had to plead for extra grace from God.

But not so with the returned exiles! Ezra 6 is painstakingly clear they didn’t make the same mistakes, but participating faithfully as God’s people and keeping the covenant he made with them. For it was observed on the 14^th day of the 1^st month just as commanded (cf. Leviticus 23). All the priests and levites were purified and clean in preparation for it, right on time. Everyone present was fit to receive, and had duly separated themselves and become clean.

All of the priests and Levites. All of the people of Israel. Before the God of Israel.

Ezra’s Passover: diligent but different

Notice the conclusion to the account in v.22:

“With joy they celebrated the Festival of Unleavened Bread for seven days, for the Lord had made them joyful and had turned the heart of the king of Assyria to them, so that he aided them in the work on the house of God, the God of Israel.”

In the remembering an old story, it starts to take on new meaning. Yes, Passove is about remembering the story of the God who delivered them out of slavery in Egypt, but now they know something new about this God who delivers. He also delivers from captivity in Babylon. A captivity and judgement that was a result of their sin. A result of their idolatry.

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I don’t know about you, but I find it much easier to accept grace when it’s for something that’s not my fault. I’m not a huge fan of asking for help, but I can usually get there when needed.

What I think many of us find harder, is accepting grace when it’s for something that is our responsibility. When we did know better, but we blew it.

Grace when I’ve been the recipient of injustice can feel quite different to receiving grace when I’m the instigator of it. When I’ve caused hurt to others. When I’ve looked the other way. When I’ve taken advantage. When I’ve acted out of fear, jealousy, shame or indifference.

But here the people of God were: now remembering both the grace God showed in the Exodus and rejoicing for their experience of God’s grace in restoring them from Exile. And not just in half-measure. A full restoration. A temple built where God would dwell again with His people. Grace upon grace.

God’s promise that exile would not be forever, that should they turn back and seek him, he would restore? It was all true.

And here they were, experiencing the fruit of it and seeing God turn the heart of the king to make it all possible.

He had made them joyful.

Jesus and the Passover

In the reading from John’s gospel, it makes it clear that Jesus is to be considered our paschal lamb. The sacrifice to be offered for us in our slavery. In John’s account in chapter 19, Jesus was crucified at the time when the Levites and Priests would have been slaughtering the lamb for the Passover meal.

A sacrifice for us.

It’s a story we remember in church every time we have communion together. It’s a story we’ll remember at Maundy Thursday services and Good Friday in just a few weeks.

But don’t let it be a story of your past only.

A testimony to unfold over a lifetime

I remember when I first was asked to “give my testimony” and wondered what on earth I should say, because I didn’t really have a “before Jesus” story. I couldn’t speak of a life without God. There was no radical conversion or spiritual rag-to-riches story that I thought I should have.

But over the years, with life’s ups and downs—and some pretty bleak downs at times—God showed me that the story of deliverance—the story of Passover, the story of the exile and the the story of the Cross—was a story for me too.

Israel’s understanding of God broadened and deepened as God continued to work with His people. It took on new meaning. It brought great joy.

In a few moments we’re going to say the Creed together—and what better way to remember our story? As we do, I encourage you to think about the story of deliverance God has done, the one he is presently doing or the one that perhaps you’re trusting he will do at the right time.

Keep faithfully, diligently, remembering the story God has given you. And by His Spirit, keep letting him bring more of your life into that story.

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A Thought About Resurrection

By Suse McBay • July 28, 2026

Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******

A Scottish Scandal & the Gift of Healthy Shame

By Suse McBay • June 24, 2026

Peter Murrell, a Scottish political worker and now ex-husband of Nicola Sturgeon (former SNP party leader), was this week sentenced to 5 years in prison for embezzlement. Over the years he had used party money to buy all manner of things. It began with a Play Station 3 but escalated, to buying silver wine coaster, a Jaguar, and a motor home (the list goes on and on). Now embezzlement is not new. Nor is using political office for personal gain. But what struck me were the comments from the lawyer following the sentencing: “ The accused is now an individual overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment and shame .” Shame. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wonder how you respond to hearing such contrition? Responses can range from the judgemental (“ Good! He deserves it ”) to the overly sympathetic (“ Perhaps he’s learned his lesson ”). But regardless of where we individually fall on the sympathy scale, it was an interesting example of what I’ve been thinking about recently: healthy shame . Mr Murrell has undeniably done something wrong and has betrayed the office given to him. He’s estranged from his wife. He’s headed to prison. He was there to represent the people, but instead, he has preyed on the sheep (Ezek. 34:2 has things to say about this). That uncomfortable feeling of recognising where we have transgressed our limits and have become hoodwinked by our own hubris and entitlement. His inadequacies have been publicly exposed. His dirty laundry is out in public. We may be more accustomed to scandal given the internet age, so we may be desensitised to it, but I bet Peter Murrell is not. When it happens to you, it’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exposing. I’m no psychologist, so I’d recommend John Bradshaw’s book on Healing the Shame That Binds You , if you want to think more about it. Dan Allender and Tremper Longman have a good Christian reflection on different emotions in Cry of the Soul. But I’ve been noticing where healthy shame appears in Scripture. Shame crops up again and again and again. I’m still in the early stages of thinking about where it appears and why, but one clear example of where it occurs is in scenes of divine judgement, both those in the present and those yet to come. God’s People Exposed (1) Daniel 12:1-4 talks about how Jewish believers in the 2 nd century BCE would be raised. The wise and understanding ones who didn’t comply with the political schemes of Antiochus IV would be raised to shine like stars. The others? Those who had aligned themselves with the emperor and in the process forsaken their covenant loyalty to God? They would be faced with everlasting shame (and contempt). (2) Jeremiah 2 has strong words for God’s people of Israel who have got so wrapped up in themselves they have stopped seeking where God is at work and instead are playing with other idols under the illusion of thinking they’re faithful because they keep the Law. They even say they don’t run after false gods (v.23). They’ve tried to seek out gain from the political powers (v.18) rather than humbly submit themselves to God (v.20). The result? They will be put to shame by Egypt (v.36). In an eerily similar statement to the news from Scotland: “As a thief is shamed when caught, So the house of Israel shall be shamed: They, their kings, their officials, Their priests, and their prophets.” (Jer 2:26) And the same is true in the New Testament. Mark 8:38 says this: "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." I suspect these are words for people who don’t listen to Jesus’ words in the preceding lines: the message that to follow Jesus is to take up your cross, deny yourself. Surrender your own wants and desires. Those who, like Peter, wanted to avoid death. Avoid suffering. Avoid hardship. Those who wanted a Messiah that came on a horse not a donkey. One who wore a crown of gold, not one of thorns. ** So what a bout us? How do we avoid that fate? Well, like a bill that if you don’t pay now you’ll be paying a lot more later, we need to start facing our inner shame today. Both the healthy shame and the shame we’ve been given that doesn’t belong to us. We might take some time to pray, be still, listen. See what comes up when we think about our uncomfortable feelings that usually stay in the shadows. The great gift of shame is that it shows us our limits. Where we’ve crossed the line and harmed ourselves, others, and our relationship with God. Where we’ve tried to be more than human (or acted in fear that we’re less than human). But shame also dies on exposure. Though I’d also add that shame dies on exposure in the presence of a loving other. We find a person or a group where we can start doing the crazy thing and actually revealing our shameful selves to others. Peter Murrell is full of shame, his lawyer says. The question is: what will he do with it? Will he use this public humiliation to face himself as he is? Does he have people around him to listen to him and to help him through it? I hope so. Genuinely. I hope that for all of us. That we would have the courage to allow the One who is Light to bring light into the midst of our shame today. To bring us out of hiding. Shame is a horrible feeling: I’m not a fan. But I do know that on the other side is acceptance, serenity, and a joy that really does make it worth it. It is true freedom—and it’s only in that freedom I can become who God has made me to be. Because whatever I’ve done, however humiliating, the deepest truth of all is that I’m made in the image of God. I am loved. ****** Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash