Sermon – Luke 2.1-14, CE, YB, December 24, 2017

Tags

chaos, Christmas Eve, church, God, holy, Holy Family, Jesus, life, love, manger, peace, silent, story, worship

Sometimes arriving at the manger on Christmas Eve feels a bit like just barely sliding into home plate.  When little ones are around, you have scurried about, making sure their tights and bowties are on, while trying to squeeze in one last family picture while everyone still looks nice.  By now, you have probably served or been served a meal, purchased and wrapped gifts, prepped or cooked food for tomorrow, sent out cards, decorated the house, and run countless errands.  And none of that includes the four hundred things that will be done in the next twenty-four hours.  Arriving here and semi-put together is a minor victory, with the promise of a peaceful, beautiful hour of worship, before preparing for the chaos to resume tomorrow.

The unfortunate thing is that the story of tonight is not all that much less chaotic.  Though we sing songs like Silent Night or Away in a Manger, or though we exchange cards with pastoral, peaceful settings, nothing about that night is silent.  And I am pretty sure the little Lord Jesus makes lots of cries.  The chaos of the holy family is not unlike the chaos in which we sometimes find ourselves.  Remembering how scandalous Mary’s pregnancy and relationship with Joseph are, the chaos continues as Emperor Augustus sends out a decree that forces a very pregnant, uncomfortable Mary away from her hometown to the crowded city of Bethlehem.  Before they can secure housing, Mary goes into labor.  Not only is she dealing with the drama of delivering a child for the first time ever, she is delivering without so much as the comfort of a home.  And then, just as they are trying to figure out nursing, and soothing, and the fear and wonder of parenting, along come some rowdy, likely filthy, shepherds, who have also not had a silent night.  In fact, they have heard the terrifying chorus of the heavenly host and been told a most preposterous story – so much so, they gather up their livestock and come to see.

With all the chaos of our own lives, and with all the mayhem of that holy night, why do we do it?  Why do we come to church at all?  Maybe we come to church on this night specifically because on this night, more than perhaps any night ever, we find the wonderful revelation that God can take the messy chaos of life and make our mess holy.  You see, as much as we love tonight’s beautiful story, what happens this night is beyond the chaos of registrations, no vacancies, angelic revelations, and messy encounters with strangers.  In order to understand the enormity of what is happening tonight, we broaden our scope.  Tonight’s event – the nativity of our Lord –  is the culmination of a much larger story.  The story started when there was no earth or humankind, when God formed the earth from the formless void.  When we first sinned against God and were cast out of the garden, to when we kept sinning and God flooded the world, to our deliverance from the hands of pharaoh and our arrival in the promised land, to our sinful desires for a king that led to the eventual confiscation of our land.  We are a people who have been oppressed so many times and rescued so many times we can barely count.  And in that rollercoaster of a relationship with our God, as we failed time and again, God, who never gives up and never cedes love, does something unheard of:  takes on human flesh, comes to us in the form of a vulnerable child, with the plan of redeeming us forever and granting us eternal life.

Maybe we come to church tonight because tonight is about God’s unending, undying, unfailing, uncompromising love for us.  Despite centuries of chaos, disobedience, and failures, God shows up tonight in a mighty way.  Despite the chaos of the times and of this night, God shows up among the outcast.  Despite the chaos of our own times, in our seeming inability to tend to those most outcast, God comes once more to redeem us.  We come to church tonight because we long to grasp the enormity of God’s love for us, the extents to which God will go for us, and the hope which only God can give to us.

But the news is even better than that.  I do not believe the beauty of tonight is in trying to find a holy moment, where God’s love speaks to us in an otherwise chaotic life.  In fact, you might not find that moment tonight because despite the fact that you were physically able to get here, your mind may still be somewhere else.  The good news is that is okay.  The deep, lasting peace of this night is not found in a single church service (though I must say, the service certainly helps).  The deep, lasting peace we are looking for comes from the reality that we do not find God’s love and peace in spite of the chaos of life.  Tonight teaches us that God hallows the chaos of life.

Based on our standards, God should have placed this precious child – the God incarnate – in the wealthiest, most well-guarded palace, where a person of great wealth could have given the baby everything the baby needed.  A person of power could have protected the child, brought honor to the child, raised the child up to assume the power of a Messiah.  If we had something so precious, we certainly would have worked to find the best of what we have to protect that preciousness.  And yet, God takes on flesh in an unmarried, inconsequential woman of little means.  God takes on flesh amidst the common people, being born in the lowliest of estates.  God takes on flesh and announces the news not to kings and rulers, but to shepherds – those disregarded by society as being of little import.  From the very beginning, the extraordinary thing God does is done in the midst of the ordinary – worse yet, among the marginalized and outcast.

God takes the mess of life:  our divisions, our stratifications by class, gender, and race, our subjugation of the poor, our inability to refrain from sin, our messes and chaos – and God makes our mess holy.  God sanctifies our chaos, reminding us that in the midst of chaos, God is present.   In the midst of chaos, God is doing a new thing through us.  In the midst of chaos, God is love and makes us agents of love.  I cannot promise that the chaos will not try to overtake you when you walk out the church door tonight.  But just like you will find small glimpses tonight of the overwhelming love God has for you, you can find God present in the chaos of life too.  God is continually breaking through, birthing in you Christ’s light and love, using you to make room in the world for the Christ child, using you to announce good news of great joy for all people.  If that doesn’t break though the chaos, I don’t know what will!  Amen.

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Sermon – Isaiah 40.1-11, Mark 1.1-8, A2, YB, December 10, 2017

Tags

Advent, busyness, change, God, Good News, Isaiah, Jesus, John the Baptist, manger, prepare, prophecy, repent, repentance, Sermon, way

This Advent, I have been sensing in myself a need to prepare for the Christ Child a little differently.  The busyness of life has me longing for a season of quiet reflection, of anti-consumerism, of less…well…busyness.  In some ways, the church has made accommodations for that desire.  The music in Advent is a bit more muted and quietly beautiful.  The offerings of yoga or even the Blue Christmas service make room for quiet meditation and reflection.  Even my Advent devotion this year of taking daily photos based on a provided word has forced me to look around more intentionally at life.  When I heard Isaiah’s words this week, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” my spirit had been hoping Isaiah’s preparation meant slowing down and creating an inner openness to the Holy Spirit.

Although I am sure Jesus would be all too happy to have me slow down a bit, my Advent longings may be a bit too passive for what Isaiah and John the Baptist are trying to accomplish.[i]  Of course, you can see where I may have gone astray.  Isaiah is speaking to a people in exile:  far from their homeland, oppressed by a foreign power, being forced to assume a foreign culture, God finally speaks a word of comfort to God’s people.  “Comfort, O Comfort my people,” says the Lord to Isaiah.  They are soothing words to a downtrodden people.  They are words of affection to an affection-starved nation.  They are healing words to a broken group of followers.  But those words of comfort are not followed by a cozy bed of meditation and contemplation.  Instead, those comforting words are followed by a call to action, “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”  God is about to do a new thing, but in order to do that new thing, the people of God must prepare the way through repentance.  Now I know we usually reserve repentance talk for Lent, but in this season of preparing for a new thing – of preparing for the Christ Child – the prophet tells the people of God they need repentant hearts.

One of the courses of study for parish priests and counselors is called family systems.  The study of family systems looks at human behavior through the lens of behavior within families, looking at ways families handle conflict, how they engage one another, and how they solve problems.  Patterns we learn in our families are taken into other systems.  One of the main lessons we learn from family systems is that you cannot change the behavior of others; you can only change your own behavior.  But changing your own behavior is not as easy as the change sounds.  Any of us who saw our mother behave like her mother, only to one day see that same behavior in ourselves realizes how hard changing our patterns can be.

When we talk about repentance, that is the kind of deep change we are talking about.  Repentance is not wallowing in guilt, feeling badly about something we said or did (or keep saying or doing).  Repentance is acknowledging our sinfulness and working to change our behavior.  The word “repent,” actually means to turn around; to turn away from sinful behavior and walk another way.  So when John the Baptist recalls Isaiah’s words, saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” he’s not saying, unpack your creches, put up the greens, and buy some presents.  Prepare the way of the Lord means making sure your heart is ready for the coming of the Christ Child – a feat you cannot accomplish if your heart is heavy with sin and regret.[ii]

Now do not get me wrong – I have pulled down the boxes of Christmas decorations, hung a wreath, and have purchased some gifts.  Those are honored traditions that bring us great joy, and I believe God wants us to be a people of joy.  But I suspect that if your heart is heavy-laden with the sins of life, or if you are so busy with the busyness of life that you have disconnected from God, your joy this year at the arrival of the Holy Child will not be as deep as your joy could be.

I have met many a church member who loathes the season of Lent for the focus on repentance.  I am sure they would be cringing today by the ways I am squashing Advent too.  But here is the reason why we have to talk about repentance today.  The gospel lesson we read from Mark contains the very first eight verses of Mark.  Mark introduces his gospel with these words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”  The reason John the Baptist is so excited, and is quoting Isaiah in our text today is that he knows what is coming is good news.  And so, when John quotes Isaiah with the words, “Prepare the way of the Lord,” he really means two things.  First, he means do the active work of preparing your heart for the Lord.  Not just the awesome, touchy-feely stuff of centering yourself or finding a quiet space, but the hard stuff of repentance.  And second, John means do the work of sharing the good news.  The work of Advent and the joy of Christmas is not just for us.  When your heart is bursting on Christmas Eve with joy because you did the tough work or repenting and returning to the Lord, don’t you want someone with which to share your joy?   One of the ways we prepare the way of the Lord is to share the good news of God in Christ with others.[iii]

Now I know what you are going to say, “Here she goes again, talking about inviting people to church.”  Or maybe you are thinking, “Yeah, but people who come on Christmas Eve usually only come once a year, so why bother?”  The good news about spreading the good news is that you are likely going to spread that good news in spite of yourself.  You see, when we do the work of repentance, of changing our hearts, minds, and hands to doing the work of God, a renewed spirit is kindled in us, and a deep joy burns in us.  The work of repentance creates in us a clean heart, and renews a right spirit within us.  And when we feel the love of God overwhelming us, we cannot help but let slip to our neighbor, “I know you have a church home, but I just want to share how awesome my experience at church has been lately.  If you ever want to come with me, I would be happy to bring you.”  Or when your friend is expressing his deep sadness and sense of loneliness, you find yourself saying, “I have been there.  But I have to tell you, every time I leave church, something about my encounter with God and community makes me feel less alone.”  Or when a stranger is ranting about how awful the church and Christians have been lately (which, we know some awful things are happening in the name of Christ lately), you find yourself saying, “I totally agree.  That is why I love my church so much – because they show me another way of witnessing to Christ.  I would love to show you sometime!”

I realize you may have been hoping for a word of comfort and permission to quietly prepare your heart for the Christ Child today.  Lord knows I have been longing for that this week too.  But turning my busyness into purposeful preparation:  for repentance and sharing the good news sounds much more fulfilling and life-giving.  The coming of the Christ Child, the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah, is a life-altering event.  Today, the church prepares us for not arriving at the manger with check-lists done, gifts in hand, and arms full of stuff.  Instead, the church prepares us for arrive at the manger with open arms, free of the burdens that are weighing our spirits down, surrounded by others who have similarly prepared, and those who heard a good word from you, and wanted to drop their baggage at the manger too.  Come, prepare the way of the Lord.  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, “Wilderness Preaching,” December 3, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5018 on December 6, 2017.

[ii] Martin B. Copenhaver, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 47.

[iii] Richard F. Ward, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 31.

On Making Room in the Inn…

Tags

Advent, Christ, Christmas, family, heart, holidays, Jesus, manger, nativity, prepare, pressure, relief, simplify

Photo credit:  https://nourishingminimalism.com/2017/11/simplify-christmas-goodbye-elf.html

As my family approaches the holidays this year, life is a bit different.  We decided months ago that we would visit our California family over Christmas break.  Now that we are traveling with four, we realized the travel expenses would set us back quite a bit.  Having noticed the last couple of years how much we are spending on gifts for the kids, we decided that the trip will function as our Christmas.  My in-laws are also gifting the family a couple of days at Disneyland, which we agreed would function as their Christmas gift.  So instead of “stuff” we are concentrating on “adventure” or “experiences.”

It took some explaining and questions, but we seem to have everyone on board with the new concept.  Personally, I did not mind giving up gifts.  But what took me by surprise was how much I would miss having a live Christmas tree.   I love everything about decorating a live tree:  the smell, stringing the lights, recalling the memories of each ornament, all while sipping eggnog and listening to Christmas songs play in the background.  But the danger of the fire hazard while we are away means the tree-related boxes will stay sealed this year.

For the last week or so, I was grieving the change in our Christmas traditions.  But this week, as Advent rapidly approaches, I realized that my grief is fading, and instead, a sense of relief has overcome me.  You see, instead of running around getting gifts, I am able to imagine the calm of Advent that I always preach about, but rarely get to experience.  Instead of working frantically to get a tree and find a meeting-free night to decorate the tree, I can pull out our Advent wreath, Advent devotional, and our creches from around the world to decorate the house.  I have often heard the encouragement to simplify for Advent, but have rarely figured out how to accomplish the goal.  This year, the unintended consequences of decisions have done it for me.  And I could not be more grateful.

Now I am not suggesting you chuck all your holiday traditions about the window.  But I wonder what things or thing you might let go of this year in order to relieve some of the pressures we find in Advent.  Too often we take the “prepare” message of Advent like Martha does with Jesus.  We run around buying, baking, partying, planning, decorating, and distracting.  Maybe this Advent we can be a little more like Martha’s sister Mary, finding ways to sit at the feet of Jesus – or perhaps at the empty manger – preparing our hearts for his nativity.  I suspect that the extra room you create in your heart might be just the room Jesus and his family need when they can find no room in the inn.