This morning our congregation worshiped using an order of service with lessons and carols based on the "O Antiphons." Most will be familiar with these antiphons from John Mason Neale's hymn "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," from the Latin "Veni, veni Emmanuel." Thus we did not use the appointed texts for the 4th Sunday of Advent, but rather several from throughout Holy Scripture. The passages are: Isaiah 40.3-5, Exodus 6.2-7a, Isaiah 11.1-10, Isaiah 42.5-9, Luke 1.68-79, Isaiah 35.4-7a, Isaiah 7.14.
Fifteen years ago, the summer Bible study for Nebraska Lutheran Outdoor Ministries was titled, “Who Are You, Jesus?” Each of the five sessions of the Bible study used one of the “I am” sayings from the gospel of John as its theme: “I am the bread of life, I am the light of the world, I am the good shepherd, I am the resurrection and the life, I am the way, the truth and the life.” Even then, as a college sophomore just beginning my adult journey of faith, I remember thinking that this would probably be a question Jesus and I would be answering for the rest of my life. In the years since that summer, I’ve discovered that I was right. I still struggle to know who Jesus is, for my life and for the life of you who have called me “Pastor.” In some ways, the question “Who Are You, Jesus” is the central question of everything we do as a church – and if it is not the central question, then one could easily make the case that we’ve been distracted by other, less important questions.
Two thousand years ago, a people in darkness had different questions. Instead of asking “Who Are You, Jesus?”, they were begging, “How long, O Lord?” They were wondering, “When will Messiah come?” They were pleading, “Lord, deliver us!” “Lord, be our wisdom!” “Come, O King of mercy!” “Rise up, O Root of Jesse!” “Shine out, O light of heaven!” God had promised a Savior, an anointed One, a child born to redeem God’s people and to be a light to all nations. But the years had been long since God had spoken. The people who had grown from Abraham and Sarah’s miracle had grown accustomed to the long defeat of life lived under the strength of other nations, who worshiped other gods and laughed at Israel’s dreams. Even the prophets had fallen silent. Here was a people who did not have the luxury of asking, “Who Are You, Jesus?” They asked, “Where are you, Lord? Do You even hear our cries?”
It was into this world that the Savior was born. Hope was given to a people who had no hope. Light was given to a people who sat in deep darkness. Life was given to those surrounded by the death of all they held dear. But when God answered the question, “Where are you, Lord?” the answer was not what the people had thought they wanted to hear. The people who wanted a king were given a carpenter’s son. The people who wanted majesty and glory were given a child born out of wedlock in a stable. The people who wanted general who would restore Israel’s position through power and might were given a teacher who insisted that God’s people were called to serve the world in humility and self-sacrifice. God’s answer to the question “Where are you, Lord?” led to new questions, new fears, new hopes and new dreams, all falling under the one main question: “Who Are You, Jesus?” That question has remained with us in all the years between the coming of Jesus and our time here, today.
“Who Are You, Jesus?” We gather today to hear God’s word answer this question in many different ways. Jesus is the King of the Nations, the Dayspring of God’s light, the Key of David, Root of Jesse, Wisdom of all Wisdom, Lord Adonai and ruler of the house of Israel. But these words cannot answer the question completely. We know that our Lord Jesus will break out of whatever boxes we may construct out of words to hold our Lord and Savior. Our words today point us toward something greater, something more wondrous than we can imagine: Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us, eternity enfleshed in our lives through the power of the Holy Spirit, and no words can do Him justice, no matter how beautiful they may be. We aren’t here to answer questions this morning: we are here to praise the One who inspires such wonder and tenderly invites us to question the very power that gives us life.
“Who Are You, Jesus?” We are not alone in our quest to answer this question. Twenty centuries of faith, doubt, attack, defense, fear and hope haven’t answered the question for us. The church has grown from a small band of men and women to billions upon billions of followers through two thousand years. Yet even with all the faithful who have gone before us cheering us on, the question cannot be answered for us. I cannot answer the question for you, and you cannot answer the question for me: the best any of us can do is bear witness to the ways in which Jesus is answering the question in our own lives. I cannot tell you who Jesus will be to you: I can only tell you who He is to me, what He has done for me, how He continues to live and act and move in me, how I hope you will experience the same deep, true love which Jesus has given to me. I can only tell you that however I may answer the question today, I know this for certain: whoever Jesus is, He is first of all mine, my Lord, my God, and my Savior. He came to give me love and I can never praise Him enough for it, though I should sing His praises to the end of all time. He lives in me through my baptism and I pray, with all of creation, that one day I may live with Him in righteousness and blessedness forever. Today we praise His name and we ask the question: “Who Are You, Jesus?” We pray, also, that as we offer our songs of praise, God with us will fill our hearts with the grace and mercy that, in the end, give us all the answer we need. Who Are You, Jesus? You are God With Us, Emmanuel, and we ask you to be with us again here, today. Amen.
“Hard To Get”
Music & Lryics by Rich Mullins
From the CD “The Jesus Demos”
You who live in heaven, hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love and who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread?
Did You forget about us after You had flown away?
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath
While You're up there just playing hard to get
You who live in radiance, hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was - still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness - did You ever know need?
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on and Your friends fall asleep
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat?
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted?
While You're up there just playing hard to get?
And I know you bore our sorrows and I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less, even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out at the One who loves me most
And after I have figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity hear the prayers of those of us who live in time?
We can't see what's ahead and we can not get free of what we've left behind
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can't see how You're leading me unless You've led me here
To where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get
There’s a button that appears on my facebook page sometimes. It says, “Let Jesus ruin your life.” The button links you to a social justice website run by Sojourners and Call to Renewal, both of which I support, but that’s not the point here. We don’t usually think about Jesus ruining our lives – we like to think about Jesus saving our lives, especially after death. When death reaches out and swallows someone you love, like it has for some of us recently, we are absolutely right to think on Jesus and the salvation that comes in His name. He has promised us that there is life beyond death for those who believe in Him, and we cling to that belief in the face of death.
But what do we do with Jesus when death is not the immediate enemy? How do we live with Jesus? What does Jesus have to say about the way we live today? Is the button right? Is it possible that Jesus might just be interested in ruining your life? Jesus was notorious for being “hard to get.” Even when Jesus lived among us in flesh and blood, a walking, breathing, talking human being, people had a hard time understanding His teachings. If they struggled then, how much will we struggle today, two thousand years later? Is it possible that Jesus really could ruin our lives? Why is He so hard to get? Please pray with me.
Lord Jesus, You know we often struggle to make sense of what You do and who You are. Just when we think we’ve got it figured out, You go and surprise us again. You shake up our lives and leave us wondering if we’ll ever figure it out. Today, in this Advent season, as we prepare for Your return to make all things new, we invite you: come into our lives. Ruin our lives if You must, but above all, help us understand and trust in You above all else. You are truly hard to get, Lord – help us “get” you aright today. Amen
Every year around this time I start to feel a giant gap between myself and the rest of the world. Sometimes it comes early in December, sometimes later. This year, it came yesterday morning. Kristin and I had stopped at the Target store in
When this happens (and it happens every year), I always try to get away from the noise and bustle and ponder what Jesus thinks about what’s going on. Is He, like me, disgusted at the commercialism that gets unfairly hung upon His name? Is He, unlike me, delighted that parents take the time to try to love their children deeply this time of year? Is Jesus, like me, overjoyed when people take time to give of themselves to those who are less fortunate? When we spend far more time celebrating the birth of a child than we do living as that child taught us to live, what does that child, now ascended to His place of honor beside his father, think of us and the way we live?
Do you ever feel the same way? Do the words and teachings of Jesus sometimes collide with the way you live and the way you think and the way you believe? Do you find yourself and your assumptions about what it means to be a Christian challenged by Jesus Himself? If you do, then take heart – you’re not alone. Jesus has been bothering God’s children from the start, and it seems that after two thousand years He’s still at it.
Our gospel reading for today gives me great hope for those days when Jesus seems most interested in ruining my life. Word of what Jesus was teaching and doing had reached John in prison, and John was bothered by it. John the Baptist, cousin of Jesus, herald of the Messiah, the voice crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!”, was bothered by what he heard about Jesus. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what Jesus was doing. Jesus came teaching and preaching about the kingdom of heaven, and it bothered John so much that he sent a message to Jesus: “Umm, did I get this wrong? Are you the guy, or is there someone else I should be heralding?”
Do you, like me, breathe a huge sigh of relief when you hear John ask that question? If John couldn’t understand what Jesus was up to, is there any reason to think that you and I will always get it? I don’t think so. In fact, I think Jesus purposely finds ways to surprise, shock and confound us, to keep us guessing, to keep us firmly grounded in faith and not in expectation, assumption or, dare I say it, condescension. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will have to trust that God really is in charge of the insanity that we call life. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will never forget that all our plans and all our hopes and all our fears and all our dreams mean nothing if they are not centered on and grounded in a living faith in the One who made us to plan and hope and fear and dream. Jesus plays hard to get so that you and I will stop trying to tell Him what is good and righteous and pure – so that you and I will start looking to Him to discover what is good and righteous and pure.
“Are you the One who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” There is so much of our existence in that question:
There comes a time for all of us when we have to ask John’s question for ourselves if we are going to continue in the way of following Christ. When faith becomes more than just words on Sunday morning, but the sort of thing that keeps popping up where you least expect it, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When grace and mercy keep invading your anger and all the grudges you’ve held for so long, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When you begin to question every assumption you’ve ever held and every prejudice you’ve ever carefully maintained, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When your church becomes a place that feels scary and frightening because it’s not the same old boring songs and readings every week, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. When you feel like screaming because you know that God is up to something in your life, but you can’t figure out what it is and it’s driving you nuts, take heart: Jesus is playing hard to get. He does it because it’s the only way we come to faith – being led down the path to the point where all of our attempts to get to God perish and we allow God to come to us in mercy and forgiveness and love. As Rich sang in the song we just heard, “I can’t see how You’re leading me, unless you’ve led me here / to where I’m lost enough to let myself be led.”
Jesus knows He’s playing hard to get: He’s doing it for us, not against us. The kingdom of heaven is filled with those who’ve found Jesus hard to get and have had to simply learn to trust that God is indeed involved, in charge and in control of the world that seems so wildly out of control, rebellious and distant from God’s presence. Here we are today, sinners who find Jesus hard to get, and yet we must have gotten Him sometime, because we keep coming back for more, even when we don’t get it. Through the words of Isaiah, God has promised that the days will come when we’ll all “get it:”
“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert;
the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.
A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the
No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there.
And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to
Take heart, friends, for the One who is playing hard to get IS the One who is to come: we have no need to wait for another. Take no offense at Him, for where we are blind He shall restore our sight; where we are lame, we shall walk; where we are impure, we shall be cleansed; where we are deaf, we shall hear; when we are dead, we shall be raised, and when we struggle under sorrow and fear, we shall receive good news. Here is the place where you can be led by Jesus into the world around you, and have no fear: in Jesus, God is with you, the one who breaks the darkness and will lead you and all God’s children into the blessings of the kingdom of heaven. Amen.
What do your eyes see around you these days? What do your ears hear?
My eyes see a world that is easily distracted from reality. A friend of mine calls it “ooooh, shiny!” syndrome. The work of living can be hard sometimes, and so it’s no wonder we sometimes look for what makes things momentarily better, easier, happier. Last night at the play we heard Solveig tell the cast that she was going to rewrite Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and make it happier because “people like to be happy during the holidays.”
As you’ve looked and listened to the world around you recently, there has been much to make you happy. These are good things, and I hope there are many things to see and hear which make you happy in the life God has given you. But I hope you also remember that your eyes and your ears won’t tell you the whole story. Sometimes our eyes and ears deceive us and make us think that the world all around us are the reality, when in fact much of what we see is illusion and disguise. Happiness is a mask many of us wear to hide the brokenness within, and this time of year we grow especially susceptible to falling for the illusion of happiness and holiday cheer that covers much that is not right.
John the Baptist knew the masks that the people around him wore. He knew that many of his listeners needed to be called out from behind their masks into the light. Matthew’s gospel tells us that John preached a bold word to all his listeners: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!” Even the Pharisees and Sadducees, the most pious members of the church in John’s time, wore their masks to hide their sin. But John called them out from behind the mask: “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.’” Nothing, not even the lineage of Abraham, can hide our sin from God, who knows all and sees all and hears all and is in all things. We can be deceived by what our eyes see and our ears hear: God can not be so easily deceived.
What have we seen here this morning? We’ve seen children singing songs to Jesus – a wondrous, good thing. It’s the same thing we’ve done every year, at least in my time with you, and I know there have been Christmas programs here for years and years and years. But even this good thing can become a mask. Even these good things we cherish and celebrate can become masks to hide behind. These are some of the things John might have to say to us if he were here today:
“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We brought our kids to the Christmas program…’
“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We made meatballs for the church supper…’
“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘Our grandparents built this church in 1908…’
“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘I always teach Sunday School…’
“Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘I come to worship every Sunday…’
It’s not that these things are bad: far from it. It’s a good thing to bring your kids to the Christmas program. It’s a good thing to make meatballs, to teach Sunday School, to remember your family’s connection to a congregation, to hear God’s word regularly. But these are not masks behind which you can hide. You can’t fool God by bringing your kids to Sunday School, or making costumes for the play, or stuffing bags of candy and serving cake after worship. You’re still the sinner behind those masks, and God knows it better than you do.
What’s the answer, then? When we can’t trust our own eyes and ears, where do we turn? We turn to the one who made those eyes and ears, the one who was knitting us together in our mothers’ womb. The God who made you is the God who sees behind all your masks and loves you still. The God who made you is the God who calls you to repentance; not out of anger or spite but out of a desire to let repentance reveal the true person who lives under all the masks behind which we hide. When the kingdom of heaven draws near, all of us will be revealed and none of us will be able to hide: God calls us to repentance so that God can shape us and mold us into what we were always meant to be: saints who live in God’s love and mercy and light. In this life we struggle in darkness and in our bondage to sin, but as the kingdom of heaven breaks in, our sin is overcome by God’s righteousness and our masks are shattered in the light of God’s mercy.
In this Advent season, as the world around you gets noisier and busier and jollier to hide its brokenness and despair, don’t let your eyes and ears be deceived. Enjoy the good things around you, but remember their source and our ultimate destination: the God who created all good things. Come to Him, worship and adore only Him, and you will know what it means to be truly merry, truly joyful, truly at peace. Repent, friends, and drop your masks: the kingdom of heaven draws near.
My coffee is hot, and I'm listening to my new winter album, Snow Angel by Over the Rhine (thanks to the several of you who mentioned it - it's a keeper.) I think it's snowing again - at the very least the sun isn't visible this morning and it's that quiet, grey winter dawn that just makes you want to sit and think for a while.Habit develops instinct, a pattern of unconscious behavior that recalls a deep element of character...The early church believed that its own fragile and vulnerable state was deceptive . . . They demonstrated this faith by maintaining nonviolence, the practice of confronting evil using only the weapons that Christ himself used. The early Christians also believed that they were a distinct people with a special vocation. Their form of life was dictated by no criterion other than faithfulness to Christ. Their identity was expressed in baptism. They believed their common life and servant practice were the heart of the gospel. They believed their calling was to show what kind of life was possible when communities lived in the light of God’s providence and they embodied this faith in their celebration of the Eucharist.What is my character? How are my habits developing the ability to live more mindfully? What is Jesus redeeming in my life, and what chaff is He casting into the fire?
Brothers and sisters, grace and peace to you from God our Creator, Jesus Christ our Redeemer, and from the Holy Spirit, present and active in our midst this morning. Amen.
First, turn to your neighbor and take a minute or two to answer this question: what are the things you need to feel like you’re celebrating Christmas?
For me, it seems like food plays a big role. Kristin and I were in Alex yesterday and on a whim I looked for potato sausage at the market. Lo and behold, I found some, so now I’m excited to go home tonight and cook up my first batch of potato sausage. Next year I’m going to try to make ostkaka, the Swedish cheesecake my grandmother always made for Christmas dinner.
Today is the Fourth Sunday in Advent, but it’s also the day before Christmas, so naturally our minds and hearts are moving ahead already to the celebration soon to come. I know that some of you have already welcomed family home for the holidays – and I know that many more are on their way. Some of you already have meals cooking for tonight’s Christmas Eve feast. You’ve been shopping for those things that make Christmas special, the traditions that have come to mean so much to you and your family. This week of the Feast of the Nativity is a week loaded with meaning and tradition and celebration, and it is a time that the church and the world considers blessed deeply with God’s presence.
But no matter how much we might try to hold on to those special traditions, we know that nothing lasts forever, don’t we? My family will hold a different kind of celebration this year, because my grandmother, Ruth Johnson, died just after Christmas last year. There’s no celebration at Grandma’s house this year; no ostkaka, no lutefisk, no potato sausage, no wassail steaming in the pot on the counter. Yesterday marked the tenth anniversary of my Grandpa Johnson’s funeral, another time of great change for us as a family. For us, Christmas has marked changes over the past ten years, and it’s been a time when we’ve sometimes found it difficult to celebrate.
However, not all change is painful. This Advent has been a very special time for Kristin and me, as we look forward to the advent of our own little one and the massive changes she will bring into our lives. When we went to see “The Nativity Story” we were both struck by the new emotional connection we made with Mary and Joseph; this year, more than any other, we understood the fear and the awe they must have felt as they waited for the arrival of their baby boy. Kristin was moved to tears more than once, and even though it was a good movie, I think the emotional connection with our soon-to-arrive family was the difference. Our friends Nate and Audrey are celebrating a Christmas unlike any other this year: in March they adopted brothers from Ethiopia and brought them home to Minnesota. Now Bereket, who’s 5, and Eshetu, who’s 2, are going out of their minds waiting to see their first snow. This is a year of massive change for them, and these changes have brought out deep joy in Nate and Audrey – we think it’s a wondrous thing to behold.
We tie all kinds of traditions and special remembrances on to the arrival of Christmas, traditions we’d like to get set in stone if we could. But the advent of God’s Son into flesh and bone and blood was a titanic upheaval in the order of things, and nowhere in scripture do we see this more clearly than in the Magnificat, Mary’s song praising God for the change that is soon to come into the world. In the eyes of the world around her, there was nothing remarkable about Mary. She was a child of a devout Jewish family, a daughter born to be married and be the mother of a family in Nazareth. Her betrothal to Joseph must have been the occasion for great celebration for her family; in her marriage to Joseph, she was making bonds under which she would live for the rest of her life, sheltered and protected from a world where women without husbands or children had to rely on begging to survive. She was not the daughter of a noble house, or the daughter of a poor family; what we can tell from scripture suggests that in today’s world she and Joseph were solidly middle-class citizens, content but not rich, average in every sense of the word.
That was before her pregnancy, however – and that pregnancy would have changed everything. In the eyes of the world, Mary would have been greatly shamed by her pregnancy, and it could have ruined her betrothal to Joseph. Joseph had the right to have her stoned to death for breaking the covenant of their engagement. In some ways, the mercy of Joseph the carpenter prepared the world for the mercy of Jesus; as this baby Jesus was saved from a death by stoning, so would the man Jesus save others from stoning. Joseph’s willingness to believe God’s promises and Mary’s faith in what God was doing through her pregnancy brought great change into the world; the first change was the out-of-wedlock, commonplace birth of the king of kings.
Mary’s song praising God for what is about to happen reveals change upon change upon change, for Mary, for her cousin Elizabeth and for the world in which they live. Mary begins by praising God for this shameful, dangerous pregnancy that has put her in a very delicate situation with her family and her husband-to-be: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.” We read this knowing that in centuries to come, Mary was indeed called Blessed, but in her time and in her world that certainly wouldn’t have been the case. Mary believed God’s promises more than she believed the world around her. Mary believed that the world would change before God’s promises would change, and her song continued to declare to the world how that change would come about: “God has scattered the proud…God has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly…God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty…” Again, Mary is singing of changes that are yet to be – and in many ways God is still bringing those changes into the world. We know for a fact that the rich are still rich, the powerful are still powerful, and the poor and hungry still struggle to survive. Mary knew this, too – but she sang praises to God for the changes her son would bring into the world, and she believed with all her heart that the God who was carrying her through her pregnancy would bring about the changes of which she was now singing.
There is a sense of deep awe and majestic wonder in Mary’s Magnificat. Deep awe because God chose her, a common, unremarkable virgin, to bear God’s only Son; majestic wonder because if God could do this, what could be impossible for this child in her womb? The mystery of what was happening was made stronger and deeper by the reaction of Elizabeth’s unborn child to the presence of Mary and her own unborn child. As the world would one day leap for joy at the coming of the Christ Child, so John leapt for joy at the advent of his cousin and his Savior. Elizabeth herself was filled with awe and wonder when she realized what was happening: “Why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” It was revealed to Elizabeth that a great and mighty change was coming, and that nothing would ever be the same again. In those moments, Elizabeth became a prophet because she saw clearly what was happening, and she gave voice to what God was doing through herself and Mary.
Today, two millennia after the birth of Jesus, it can be difficult to think about how the birth of Christ changes everything. After all, the poor are still the poor, the hungry are still the hungry, and the rich and powerful are still the rich and powerful. We are the rich and powerful, even though we fool ourselves into believing otherwise; after all, do we not have the luxury of fighting to maintain our Christmas traditions? If Mary’s song is to come true in our lifetimes, we are in for a change, but we might not think that change is so good. But the far greater change we should consider is how the presence of Christ is transforming our lives. Advent is not a time to think only of the coming of Christ two thousand years ago – Advent is a time to prepare for Christ coming into our lives in the present, and the change that presence will work in us. Christ is alive, brothers and sisters, and through the Holy Spirit Christ will change your life forever. No dead traditions here – no empty observances without meaning or substance – Advent is a time to pray for Christ to bring the deep awe and majestic wonder of Mary and Elizabeth into our lives, today, here and now.
When I told you that I need food to feel like it’s Christmas, I was only telling you part of the truth. I need the Magnificat to know that Christmas is drawing near. I need Mary’s song of wonder and joy because I hear in her words the promises and changes I want God to make in my own life, and I pray with Mary for the fulfillment of all of it. Christmas is coming, friends, and Christmas means change. May your lives be changed with the coming of the Christ child. Let us pray:
God of humility and innocence, God of wonder and miracle, we give thanks today for your power and presence in our midst. In Jesus – his birth, his life and ministry, his death and resurrection – you have shown us that greatness can emerge out of vulnerability, and that with you, all things are indeed possible.
This morning, God, we ask that you guide our journey to the stable. May all your people gather this night around the Holy Family, bringing hopes, fears, joy, sorrow, delight and most of all love into our circle of adoration. May we hear the song of the angels as the birth is announced and may our voices ring out with praise at the miracle of it all.
Eternal God, in the name of the tiny babe of Bethlehem, we pray for all humankind…for the strong and the weak, for the poor and the wealthy, for oppressed and oppressor. May all kneel together at the manger, seeking help, healing and hope.
God of comfort, swaddle us in the safe closeness of your divine embrace, and bring us peace. May your name be praised and glorified on this day of wonder, and forever more.[1] Amen.
On Thursday morning, Joel Beckrich was sentenced to at least 30 years in prison for the murder of Nancy Everson, the mother of Grant Everson, who had planned the murder of both his parents. Grant’s father, Tom, survived the attack but has struggled, for obvious reasons, during the trials for the murder of his wife. The Minneapolis Star Tribune story included this sentence in Friday morning’s edition: “[Tom Everson] said he doesn't hate Beckrich but also doesn't have the power to forgive him.”[1]
I can’t imagine what Tom Everson must be going through this Christmas, but I know it must be horrible. Any pastor worth his or her collar would never question Tom Everson saying that he doesn’t have the power to forgive. For us, forgiveness is a work of years, a practice developed over time through dedication and commitment. Forgiveness is not a one-time thing.
All too often, we think that forgiveness needs an act of repentance before it works. At the very least, “I’m sorry” seems to be a minimum requirement – after all, without both parties acknowledging that sin has happened, there’s no point to forgiveness, is there? How can you forgive someone who isn’t sorry in the least for what they’ve done to you?
But today’s readings from Zephaniah and Philippians paint a very different picture. Not once does God demand repentance through Zephaniah or Paul before forgiving sins and rejoicing over their forgiveness. God does not stand over Israel like a scolding mother, demanding that the people “say you’re sorry and MEAN IT!” Read these verses again:
“The Lord has taken away the judgments against you…the Lord will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near...”
God is not after an apology here, though if anyone is due an apology from us it would be our Creator. You and I know far too well how easily we stain the lives God has given us with sin. It’s not a matter of apologizing to God – in our case, it would first be a matter of knowing where to start.
But God doesn’t demand an apology – God does something far more reckless. Instead of standing with arms crossed and one foot tapping, waiting for the stammered apology of sinners who know they’re in the soup, God does what God wants to do: God forgives. No apologies. No conditions. Nothing but a promise: “I will rejoice over you with gladness, I will renew you in my love; I will exult over you with loud singing.” And if God does so, just because God chooses to do so, is there anything preventing us from doing the same thing toward God?
This Third Sunday in Advent is traditionally known as Gaudete Sunday – a Sunday for rejoicing. You’ve already heard our children rejoicing over the coming of Jesus. But the miracle of Christmas is far more than carpenters and virgins, shepherds and kings and a baby in a stable. The miracle of Christmas, the miracle over which we rejoice again today, is the birth of forgiveness itself: Jesus Christ, the anointed Forgiver of God. In Christ forgiveness took on flesh and bone and walked the earth. Jesus created a community grounded in his Father’s everlasting love, and the Holy Spirit works to maintain that community of forgiveness today. Therefore, we rejoice: for God has come near in forgiveness and we are made whole again.
So I say to you, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Some of you haven’t been with us in a while – but I’m glad you’re here today, to hear again about the coming of Christ, the coming of forgiveness. Come back again soon, and bring your kids – because you won’t hear the message of God’s forgiveness anywhere else. But most importantly I tell you this: Rejoice! Some of you have been here every week – but maybe you haven’t heard this word of forgiveness for far too long. You’ve begun to look at everyone around you as if they weren’t worthy of forgiveness. Maybe you look at yourself as if you weren’t worthy of forgiveness. I’m glad you’re here today to hear about the coming of Christ, the coming of forgiveness. Rejoice! Some of you come carrying heavy burdens of grief, or perhaps someone has sinned against you and has not asked for forgiveness. You don’t have the power to forgive – yet. You will: trust in Christ and his promises. Forgiveness is coming – Rejoice! Some of you have sinned greatly against another, so greatly you’re afraid to ask for forgiveness, and so you’re living apart from your sin as if you could run away from it forever. Forgiveness is coming – Christ is coming – rejoice.
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.”
Although it comes as late as it can this year, Advent is upon us. Some of us grew up observing it, while to others (including this childhood Baptist) it was even more foreign than Lent! Over the past twenty years, I have grown to love Advent as a season of preparation, although as a pastor I find it harder to practice it at home than at church, even when the church might prefer I make it the other way 'round.
Here are five questions about Advent for this first of December:
1) Do you observe Advent in your church?
2) How about at home?
3) Do you have a favorite Advent text or hymn?
4) Why is one of the candles in the Advent wreath pink? (You may tell the truth, but I'll like your answer better if it's funny.)
5) What's the funniest/kitschiest Advent calendar you've ever seen?