Blinded by the Light Sermon draft 12/30/07

Didn’t you just love the candlelit portion of our Christmas Eve worship? It’s so beautiful, what with all the candles glowing in the darkened sanctuary, and the people softly singing, and the church all decorated with the tree shining brightly up front. The luminous pools of candle light lighting up faces ardently worshiping the Word made flesh. It’s other-worldly. It’s as if we enter another world, an alternate reality, at that moment, so peaceful and serene—yet at the same time, so joyful and boisterous. It is very moving to me. Christ the Savior is born!

Something happened to me this past Christmas Eve, however. Sort of a revelation—a moment of clarity, or perhaps what may be better described as a moment of complexity. Because in this moment, I realized that, for all the beauty and peacefulness it includes, the birth of Jesus is also a moment that reveals the ugliness and violent nature of our world. Not that the world is all bad and going to hell in a hand basket. But that a certain “fallen-ness,” a certain “not-right-ness” does exist, and furthermore, it coexists with the good in a way that is almost impossible to explain, and equally as difficult to accept. And that this is at least a good chunk of the reason Jesus was sent to us. But let me tell you what happened to me Christmas Eve.

It really wasn’t anything miraculous, or spectacular, or even highly spiritual—at least not while it was happening—looking back on it I can read the hand of the Spirit into it, though. After all the candles were lit, and you all were singing Silent Night, I sat down in my place and began singing too. [Let’s set the tone for my story by humming Silent Night in the background.]

Like I said, I was sitting down, singing along with you, contemplating the mystery of the incarnation, and staring into the flame of my candle. And as I looked into that flame, the rest of the world kind of fell away. All my worries, all my concerns, all my regrets and shame—they all melted in the glow of that tiny fire, and ran away, leaving me feeling peaceful and happy. Full of the Christmas spirit. Peace on earth, goodwill to all, and to all a good night! Just staring at the flame. The flickering flame.

Then the singing came to its conclusion, and I took my place at the altar to lead the “Litany of Light,” which was based on a text from the prophet Isaiah. But as I looked down at the writing on the page, there was this candle-flame-sized blot on my vision—kind of like when someone takes a flash photo of you how you get a blind spot? I couldn’t see what I was supposed to say—it was as if my eyes were still stuck in that moment of peaceful bliss I had experienced. It was lucky I wasn’t driving a car or doing something like brain surgery right then!

Eventually, my vision returned to normal and I was able to finish out the service. And that uncomfortable but ultimately forgettable moment in time would normally have been relegated to the disposable memory pile, except that I got to thinking about it. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was something more to this tiny episode in my life—that being “blinded by the light” was actually meant to help me “see” something—something profound and deep. Only I could not for the life of me figure out what that might be.

Until I started to prepare for this week’s sermon by reading the appointed gospel. It is a story of unspeakable evil and violence and cruelty. It features lying and deceit, the killing of innocents, and the heart-rending anguish of mothers and fathers who have witnessed the death of a child. Juxtaposed as it is with the serenity of the stable and the shepherds and the babe, it’s almost as if it’s meant to repulse the listener—much as a gory part in a horror movie is designed to make you shut your eyes and stick your fingers in your ears.

Why, I wondered, is this story so casually tacked on to our lectionary right after Christmas? Couldn’t the powers that be who put such things together give us just one week of peace and good will, before clobbering us over the head with this gruesome story of infanticide? Coming so close on the heels of picture-perfect Christmastide, it seemed obscene!

Then it hit me, hard. Sitting by pondering the mystery of the incarnation, or reveling in the splendor of the Word made flesh are both fine things to do. For a while. But you shouldn’t gaze so intently and prolonged-ly at the lustrous nativity of our Lord that you become blinded by its light—blinded to the reason for that birth, both in our own lives or as a whole—congregation, nation, or world.

We can’t let the after image of that silent night block out our realization of the fact that there’s hunger out there, there’s homelessness out there, there’s disease and injury out there, there’s desperate longing for meaning out there, there’s people hurting other people out there, there’s crime out there, there’s war out there, there’s corruption, unbridled greed and the misuse of power out there, there is evil out there—out there, and, yes, there’s evil in here as well. In our hearts and in our souls. And if we are so caught up in the radiance of the Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace that we refuse to acknowledge that the titles “Suffering Servant” and “Crucified One” and “Man of Sorrows” also define the Messiah, then we are totally missing the whole point of the incarnation of our God in Jesus.

And what is the point? Matthew tells us right off in his birth narrative. The angel of the Lord comes to Joseph in a dream and tells him not to be afraid to take the pregnant Mary as his wife—that the child is from the Holy Spirit, and that he should name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins. Jesus’ very name defines his purpose—it means the Lord saves! And being a savior is tough, dirty, dangerous work.

From his very birth, Jesus is set in opposition to the powers that be. King Herod is thwarted by the magi, who return to their homelands without giving up the location of the new “King of the Jews.” So Herod, with cruel logic, sentences to death all boys two and under in and around Bethlehem. Fortunately, Joseph is warned in a dream and flees to Egypt with Mary and Jesus.

Fortunately for them—but what about those young boys? And their families? Couldn’t God have sent a dream to all the fathers of little boys and saved all of them? What did they do to deserve their fate? Other than being born at the wrong time in the wrong place? Well, nothing really—they are not guilty of any crime. The designation for the commemoration of their deaths even reflects this: their day, December 28^th is called The Holy Innocents. Innocents.

Which is an interesting way to describe them. Because, as good Lutherans, we know what St. Paul tells us: that all—everyone—falls short of God’s glory, and therefore all—everyone—stands in need of God’s grace. We are all brought before God to be judged, and none of us—not even one—is able to be declared not guilty. We all sin by what we say and do, think and do not do. And we are all born predisposed to acting and thinking selfishly—sinning. So even those children of Bethlehem were not “innocent.” That’s why God sent Jesus to save them too.

And yet, in a very real way, they are innocent. Innocent by-standers. Collateral damage. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunate, unlucky, ill-fated. The victims of chaos and probability. The Holy Innocents are blameless when it comes to their situation.

And there are Holy Innocents all around us even today. The children of Darfur who watched their parents murdered by the rebel forces. The AIDs patients wasting away due to the lack of highly available (but highly expensive) drugs. The children who die of easily treated and cheaply preventable diseases like mumps, and rubella and whooping cough. The victims of suicide bombers. The ones buried in mudslides in an Indonesia barely recovered from the devastating Christmas tsunami of 2005. All innocents. All guilty of nothing more than being there.

We pray for such innocents each week here in church—if you look you will find them in the prayers of the people, and the names of those close to us you’ll find in the bulletin. And if you look deep into your hearts perhaps you will also find an innocent there. You. You, a child abused long ago. You, a man who has lost his soul mate. You, a parent who experienced their child ravaged by illness. You, entangled in a dangerous addiction. You, hiding at work from the brokenness of your marriage. Damaged souls. Broken bodies. Mangled minds.

Innocents. They’re there. But you’ll never see them if you’re blinded to their existence because you refuse to look away from the peace and glory of Christmas. You’ll not see their need, and you’ll not realize your own need. And even worse, you’ll miss the radical outpouring of grace that connects the light of Christ and the darkness of the world. And what is that connection?

You.

You are the connection between the promised peace of the new kingdom of God inaugurated in the birth of Jesus, and the reality of a world torn apart by sin and its consequences. You have been made whole and blameless by the cross of Christ. You have been comforted by the presence that saves. And you have been anointed in your baptism, and sent out with all the baptized as the body of Christ to nourish the hungry and heal the sick, to cast out the demons of prejudice and hatred, to advocate for and defend the marginalized, and to witness and proclaim the good news to those who have not heard it. With the breath of the Spirit upon you, you are the ones who bring the right time and the right place to the innocents, so that they might experience peace and grace even in situations that are evil and sinful. You bring it to them!

Many churches have the end-of-worship tradition of the acolyte relighting the candlelighter and after putting out the candles at the altar, and carrying that flame out of the sanctuary. Think about it. The flame symbolizes the presence of Christ in worship, so instead of ending with Christ “put out” until next week, he instead is carried out into the congregation, the community, and the world. To spread the light there.

That’s what I want you to do as believers—to carry the light of Christ to a world that needs it—even though it may react harshly to it. To return to the original metaphor—picture our candlelight service on Christmas Eve. But instead of sitting staring into the flame and hiding from reality in it, we first hold our candles high, so the world can see our Christ-light and be drawn to it. And then each of us peels off from the group, going out into the darkness to shine a healing light on the innocents we find there, to light their path to wholeness and well-being and peace. Reveling in the light, yes, but letting it bring us to new life in Christ, and lead us out to serve in the name of the one born on Christmas day!

And so as we hear at our service’s end: “Go in peace, your light has come! Thanks be to God. Amen

Wholly Innocents

"..and Herod sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and younger..." Matthew 2:16

On the church calendar today is The Holy Innocents. It commemorates those innocent children killed as Herod probed violently for the newborn king foretold by the magi. I'm sure if he had known the term, herod would have called these boys "collateral damage."

Who are the innocents in our day? Who "gets in the way" of our attacks on orthodoxy and heresy? Who suffers as some try to purge the faithful? Who die inside as religion is dismantled heedlessly in the name of progress> Who are the ones that are needlessly destroyed as we go back and forth on what is right? Who are the ones that are gone because we flee in the face of discomfort, conflict, and the hard work of discerning God's will?

I have an idea who they are. How about you?

Pray for them--
O Lord, we hurt people sometimes in your name. It is our sin, and we confess it. Forgive us, and lead us into newness of life. Amen

A Shepherd's Pie-ty (Christmas Eve Sermon)

A certain pastor and his family were in the car heading towards the church for Christmas Eve services. As they traveled, they ooo’ed and ahhhh’d over the Christmas decorations that made the houses they passed sparkle in the cold night air. Cheery music made them all feel festive, and an on-the-road snack of Christmas cookies hit just the right spot. “Isn’t Christmas wonderful?” exclaimed the pastor’s wife, bubbling over with Christmas spirit. There were exclamations of agreement all around, and then the ten year old spoke up, innocently inquiring of his father, “Are you going to let Christmas be wonderful this year, Dad? Or are you going to explain it again?”

There’s two ways to celebrate Christmas. One is to stand in silent wonder of the incarnation of God, made manifest by the power and grace of the Holy Spirit in a tiny baby on a starlit night long ago. This way includes a lot of dimmed lights, candles, quiet music, hushed expressions of awe, and a spate of highly nuanced and lofty theological interpretations of the virgin birth and its implications by the preacher. If we were to name this pensive Christmas piety after one of the characters in the nativity story, this would have to be a “Mary Christmas.” For Mary soaked up all that was happening around her, and then pondered it in her heart—quietly, demurely, with trembling heart, and with soul tuned to the frequency of the cosmic mystery of it all. This way of celebrating Christmas is prevalent in most churches on Christmas Eve, and—don’t get me wrong—it is a beautiful, inspiring way to reflect upon the coming of Emmanuel, or “God with Us.” So lovely. So peaceful.

But, yeah, we’re not going to do it that way this year! Because there’s another way to celebrate Christmas. A way that involves hearty shouts of “Merry Christmas!” and the loud singing of carols. There’s a way that boasts bear hugs, back slaps, and mistletoe. A way with dancing, feasting, and making merry in general. If we had to choose from the cast of characters present at the nativity of our Lord, for one to name this style of Christmas spirituality after, it would have to be the shepherds. It is a Shepherds’ Pi—ety. The shepherds really know how to party! Check these guys out:

The shepherds begin the night quietly enough. But before you can say “Feliz Navidad!” they are visited by an angel of the Lord, who gives them GOOD NEWS OF GREAT JOY. Next they’re treated to an amazing concert by the hosts of heaven who sing “Glory to God in the highest!” loud enough to wake up the sheep!

Now what do the shepherds do after this mind-altering experience? They don’t hang out after this, deeply contemplating the existential meaning of it all. No, they react to this news immediately. ROAD TRIP! They hastily gather themselves together and hot foot it on over to Bethlehem, where they find the child just as the angel had said. There they congratulate Mary vociferously, they each take a turn holding the baby, and of course, step outside the stable to smoke some cigars with Joseph. The neighbors peek out their windows to see what the commotion is about, and the innkeeper turns over in bed, thanking God he didn’t let that couple stay inside, if that’s the type they run with. Finally, as the dawn drapes a vermillion curtain on the eastern horizon, the shepherds, full of the First Christmas spirit, take their leave, praising God loudly all the way out of town! That’s revelry!

And that’s the way we’re going to celebrate Christmas here tonight. We’re going to praise God--loudly. We’re going to sing some more carols, with gusto! We’re going to shout felicitations. We’re going to be noisy and happy and rowdy. When we share the peace maybe we’ll even hug. And yes, we’ll even share a festive meal here at God’s table. So, repeat after me—and use your outdoor voices: “Merry Christmas!” “Jesus Christ is born!” “God bless us, everyone!”

Because the Mary way to celebrate is great, but the shepherd way rocks! And why shouldn’t we be loud? This is GOOD NEWS! Why shouldn’t we act a little silly and dance a little jig? CHRIST IS BORN! Is there any better reason to kick up our heels and par-ty? Yes there is—Easter, but we can shout ‘alleluia’ and ‘He is risen’ later! Right now we’re celebrating a birth—an arrival, a new beginning. The honoring of our sinful flesh with the en-flesh-ment of God. Right now we are reveling in the fact that God loved us so much that he stooped down, shed his god-ness, and took on humanity, so that he could reverse the slow downward spiral we had entered in Eden, and, in so doing, re-create the relationship we shared with him in our innocence. We are celebrating the commencement of God’s mission to break down the walls between us and draw all things to himself. We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus! That deserves a WOOOT, don’tcha think?

Now, maybe some of you quiet people—you “Mary Christmas-ers” think all this merriment and carrying on is not dignified, kind of coarse, other-side-of-the-tracks-like. You are correct, sir! Look at the model—the shepherds. When you think of shepherds you might think of some sweet, bucolic, amiable, gentle folk. Many years of cute as a button little children playing shepherds in the Christmas pageant, wearing bathrobes and towels on their heads, has undoubtedly contributed to this.

Well, in reality, though shepherding was an important job, requiring diligent watchfulness, it was dirty, boring and menial job, and hence shepherds tended to be not quite at the top of the social ladder. In fact they were near the bottom. Shepherds slept out in the fields, tended smelly animals, and didn’t exactly have the opportunity to practice personal hygiene. They were a coarse bunch—if you had to compare them to a modern day occupation, perhaps longshoreman would convey the same general feeling.

But regardless of their image, God chose them to be the first witnesses to his Christ. The first to see Jesus. The first to know his mission. The first to wrestle with the surprising paradox of God incarnate as a human child. Them. Shepherds. It’s ironic because it encapsulates the very essence of the gospel—the marginalized are lifted up by the sheer grace of God—not by anything they say or do.

So when we approach the Lord, just as the shepherds did the manger, we know we can do so boldly—we don’t have to worry about how we’re dressed, what our job is, how much money is in our bank account, or what we’ve done wrong in our lives. We can come to Jesus laughing, smiling, and shouting praises because God in Christ is here for us, here to restore us, here to give our lives endless meaning—all despite our acting more like sheep than shepherd!

Uh oh! I’ve gone and explained Christmas again. We better make merry post haste! Quick! Turn to the person on your right and wish them a Merry Christmas! Do the same with the person on your left. Now shout it out—CHRIST THE SAVIOR IS BORN! Here’s something I always wanted to do in church—we’re going to do a “wave.” We’ll start here with these people in the end chairs and proceed across the room next chair to next chair, etc, etc all the way to the other end, and then we’ll do it a second time. Now each one of ya, when you stand up, shout HALLELUJAH! Ready? 1 -2 -3 – go!

That was rocking. I’ll never forget this Christmas Eve! Now let’s really, really sing out on this next carol, which I think sums it up quite well—Good Christian Friends, REJOICE! AND LET THE PEOPLE SAY AMEN!

MERRY CHRISTMAS

Merry Christmas! Here's the song Erik, Sarah, Lisa and I sang for a prelude. It's called Light of the Stable.

Hope you enjoyed that (Yes it was filmed this afternoon, not Christmas Eve!)

Christmas Bells are Ringing!

For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord" -Luke 1

The waiting is over, the savior is born!

Come to worship! Come to praise! Come to adore!

Or just come to see what all the commotion's about!

Jesus Christ is born!

Born to spread grace all over the world.

Born to heal the sick and feed the hungry.

Give us your grace, O Christ.
Heal us. Feed us.
Give us your peace, Lord Jesus, child of Bethlehem.
Amen

MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM PASTOR TOM!


(Christmas eve sermon will post tomorrow)

Rolling Stones Gather No Moss

You can't always get what you want,
You can't always get what you want,
You can't always get what you want,
But if you try sometime,
You just might find,
You get what you need. (The Rolling Stones)

Have you seen the tv commercial that uses this golden oldie? It features a montage of the kinds of gifts that take your breath away, for the wrong reasons. And then "you get what you need"--Coca-Cola.

When I first saw it, my initial reaction was - you can't always get what you want as far as Christmas gifts go, but you get what you need--Jesus. (Okay Luther scholars, I know the "if you try sometime" part doesn't exactly match up with our theology--but hey, it's almost Christmas, so please cut me some slack!)

But what do we need Jesus for anyway/ To save us, you say. To save us from what, I counter. From our sin, you retort! Exactly what sin do you have, I inquire of you--some may have sin enough to warrant saving, but the most of you are decent enough folk. What sin do we have that Jesus needed to be sent from the Father to rescue us?

I was listening to a radio preacher this morning and he was exploring this. Where he came down on it was the sins of environmental destruction, hunger and disease in the face of abundance--these were the sort of things we need from which we need redemption. I thought that was dead on.

Unfortunately I didn't have time to hear the rest of his sermon. But you know--you can't always get what you want!

One day left in Advent. Spend it thinking about the child of Bethlehem as your savior. Mind boggling.

Lord God, you sent your son to save us from our sin. Help us to recognize them, and be freed from them to work your will here on earth. In Jesus name. Amen

Last Minute Post

From the Monastic Liturgy...

The Lord is coming, run out then shouting;
Greatest of all, rule forever!
Our strong God, our prince of peace; alleluia!



I like the run out shouting part--it's so not Lutheran. We need to our faith live out loud. Don't you think? Advent is a good time to start. Two days left!

And a Little Child Shall Lead Them

"Let the little children come to me, do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs." Mark 10:14b

We put up the tree last night. It was more of a chore than it had been in the old days. Something was missing. I think it's because we're really accepting now that we are empty nesters. Although Erik has been out of the house for several years now, his marriage to Sarah puts the punctuation on an era of our lives. We no longer have a child in the house through whom to "see Christmas."

I think when children are involved we are more apt to really get into the season (advent i mean--but Christmas prep, too). I saw our Advent calendar in the bottom of one of the boxes of decorations last night. I left it there--too late to use it now, and I didn't have a kid eager for its use to remind me to get it--and use it!

The childhood experience of Christmas has of course been romanticized and idealized in print and television media. But I think there is something about the eagerness to believe and excitement in the story of Christ's birth that motivates us old folk. Their total investment in the every detail of the story, and their absolute faith in the baby who is born to save the world is a model for us.

Jesus rebuked his disciples when they tried to keep the kids away from him. Perhaps he missed the influence of the children that ran and played about his carpenter's shop in Nazareth. Perhaps he missed telling them the stories of prophets and kings and patriarchs and matriarchs of their faith. Yes, I think Jesus knew that people needed a child's perspective to balance out the own adult one.

So, I'm looking forward to Erik and Sarah coming to town tomorrow. And especially to the children's sermon Monday night. My advice to you--spend some time with some kids--yours or otherwise. See the preparations through their eyes. For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these! Maranatha!

The Longest Night

Longest Night services are gaining in usage. Held on the eve of the winter solstice, the longest night (the light returns from this point and days get ever longer) these worship services are a Christmas celebration in a minor key--for those who, due to loss or tragedy, can't find it in themselves to be merry.

What follows are some poems and liturgical elements from a Longest Night worsip at Trinity South Paris ME...

“First Coming” by Madeleine L’Engle

God did not wait till the world was ready, till...nations were at peace.

God came when the Heavens were unsteady

and prisoners cried out for release.

God did not wait for the perfect time.

God came when the need was deep and great.

God dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine.

God did not wait till hearts were pure.

In joy God came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.

To a world like ours, of anguished shame,

God came and God’s Light would not go out.

God came to a world which did not mesh;

to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.

In the mystery of the Word made Flesh,

the maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane

to raise our songs with joyful voice,

or to share our grief, to touch our pain,

God came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Prayer:
O God of all seasons and senses, grant us the sense of your timing
to submit gracefully and rejoice quietly in the turn of the seasons.
In this season of short days and long nights, of gray and white and cold,
teach us the lessons of endings;
children growing, friends leaving,
loved ones dying, grieving over,
grudges over, blaming over, excuses over.
O God, grant us a sense of your timing.
(Time for silent prayer)
In this season of short days and long nights,

of gray and white and cold,
teach us the lessons of beginnings;
that such waitings and endings may be the starting place,
a planting of seeds which bring to birth
what is ready to be born--
something right and just and different,
a new song, a deeper relationship, a fuller love--
in the fullness of your time.
O God, grant us the sense of your timing.
(From Ted Yoder, Guerrillas of Grace)

Fitting it in

"But there are also many other things that Jesus did if every one were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written!" John21:25

Only a few days left before Christmas, are you ready? (Maranatha!) One of the pitfalls about planning for this holy day is you try to do too much, and then when you run out of time you feel bad about the things you couldn't get to.

Like visiting relatives, baking cookies, going to parties, shopping, cleaning the house, seeing a holiday movie, going to church, decorating the house--inside and out this year, and so many, many other things. Too numerous to mention. Here at church, activities abound, and Joanne and I are trying to fit the entire worship service for Christmas Eve (5 and 11) into an eight page bulletin--tough job. Things like these make this time of year hectic, stressful, and in the end, disappointing when plans and reality collide.

Why not plan less things to do? Jettison some of those "have to do's." Stick only with the real important things, plus a few extras for FUN! Don't feel guilty about not doing it all or not being Martha Stewart. That's not the kind of preparing you need to do during advent--you need to clear out your heart--not clutter it up.

After all, look at the verse above from the end of John's gospel. He didn't put all the stories of Jesus he knew into his gospel. Isn't that a mind-blower? What could be more important than those stories? If he could leave out some of the good news, and still have a great story (Luther's favorite)--you can skip a visit to Aunt Betsey (you can visit her next year!).

What I'm saying is that too much is too much. John knew that, and so do you. So, as we head into the final days of Advent, let some things go, just sit, and wait for God. That's part of preparation too.


Lord God, all the books in the world could never hold the entire story of your love. And all the hours in the day can't sustain what we 'd like to do in them. Help us choose what's important to do, and what's not. In Jesus' name we pray, amen.

Missed again!

Who was it that said, "Never say never?" Smart dude. I promised myslef I'd never miss another Advent daily devotion. But I did. Here's why...

I went to listen to John Edwards speak at a rally in Nashua. Figured if they take it so seriously--so should I, as a Granite Stater. And don't forget my quest to shake each candidate's hand. Two so far - Hillary and Richardson. Missed Edwards by just about four rows of chairs I didn't hop over.

It was a good speech and q&a. But I'll let you make up your own mind--I'm not here to endorse anyone. Not like Bonnie Raitt and Jackson Browne were there last night to endorse Edwards! Free mini-concert! Woot! They played four songs, including Thing Called Love, and Angel from Montgomery.

So, it's no excuse--but that's what happened. And now back to the devotions......

Snow Going

"Honor your father and mother" from the Ten Commandments

Yesterday we had a little snow, about six or eight inches. And we canceled church. Justifiably so, it was a white out--with the forecast for worsening conditions. My father, who is retired, serves a little church in Berlin NH, while they are "between pastors." They have been for more than two years now. It snowed fourteen inches in Berlin.

They had church. And the Sunday School Pageant, too. I guess years of being the coldest place in New England (save for Mt Washington) has built up their resistance to snow. As for my dad, he and my mom traveled up from Ctr Tuftonboro Saturday evening and stayed in a hotel--making the trip to St. Paul's on Sunday morning. "It was only three inches on the road then," he told me this afternoon, as if that were nothing! "But it was worse getting back to the hotel after four hours at church," he added. God bless him. And thasnk God for giving them safe passage through the snows!

My dad's old school--meaning that his call from God is the priority in his life. His commitment to this church is as strong as if he were their called pastor. He tends their sick, calms their fear and anger over the lack of pastoral candidates, and he preaches and administers the sacrament--all at an age near twice mine. Oh Lord, give me just a measure of his spirit!

Give it to all of us. If we were all as committed to Christ as my dad, well, we'd be where God wants us to be. Putting Christ first, serving him, loving him and his people. Standing ready for his return. ready and willing and able. Even if there's fourteen inches of snow and ice on the road!

Today I honor my father (and mother too--she's a cool lady!) for his responsiveness to God's call. In Advent I look to him to see what I should be doing to make room for Christ in my heart.

Father God, thank you for role models to mentor us, and for the ministry of my dad and other rostered retired leaders. Help St. Paul's to find the pastor that is out there for them. Raise up that leader and bring him or her to this flock. Keep them together and eager while they wait--both for a pastor, and for your Son, Jesus. In his name we pray. AMEN

Snowed Out Sermon

Night Vision

When I was a little boy, my brothers and I would often play outside in the evenings after the sun had gone down. We’d play hide and seek, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, commando raid—you know, boy stuff. And the fact that it was dark and hard to see each other wasn’t the deterrent you’d think it’d be. Really, it only made things more fun! There’s nothing quite like poking around in the pitch black, never quite sure when someone’s going to pop up and scare the living daylights out of you! Talk about your excitements!

I can remember, back in those days, wishing I had some of those special glasses that soldiers and police people use to see in the dark. You know, those night vision goggles. You can see everything just as clear as day through them, although everything was a sickly, glowing, green color. If only I could’ve had a pair of night vision goggles, then I could have seen where everybody was, and who they were. Because in that kind of darkness, you couldn’t even tell who it was that was standing right in front of you!

Later on I remember I read in a magazine that before the days of those magic goggles, soldiers were trained to see in the dark in a different way. Rather than look directly at something they wanted to see in the dark, they’d look at it with peripheral vision—out of the sides of the eyes, either side. It seems that the physiology of the eye is such that the rods and cones, the receptors if you will, on either side of the retina, which is like a movie screen that the images you see are projected upon, are more photosensitive than the ones in the middle. So by looking to either side of what you are interested in seeing in the darkness, you are more able to see and identify it. Lookouts in old sailing ships used this little trick too. They looked just to the side to better see what lay directly ahead.

Sounds far out there, but give it a try the next time you’re out at night. I wouldn’t suggest doing it driving down Route 101 in your car, but to help you find the keyhole in your front door—that’s the ticket! Look at the periphery and you’ll see.

You know, if you stretch your imagination just a wee bit, that’s about what Jesus was saying in response to John the Baptist’s question. John sent a messenger to him asking, “Are you the one we’ve been expecting, or should we continue waiting?” Like we said last week, John was in prison, and maybe by this point losing heart and beginning to doubt. Characteristically, his cousin Jesus’ answer is not a simple yes or no. Not a maybe. Not even a “Whadda you think?” Instead, to answer this question about himself, Jesus points to what’s going on all around him--in the periphery.

“Tell John that the blind can see and the lame can walk. Tell him that the deaf can hear and the sick have been healed. Tell John that the poor are hearing the good news. Tell him the dead have been raised! Tell him that.”

Jesus asks John to look at the periphery to find an answer, instead of looking directly at him. If John looked directly at Jesus, what would he see? A man. Dirty and tired perhaps from traveling the countryside and camping out. A good speaker probably, charismatic—but just a man. It’s only when he looked to what was going on all around Jesus that he could see that everything that Jesus was doing was exactly what the prophet Isaiah said of the Messiah! The blind seeing, the deaf hearing, the lame walking—they defined Jesus as Messiah—more powerfully than any statement by Jesus ever could.

And, in a way, Jesus is only repeating what he has probably heard from John himself. When they came to him seeking baptism, John cautioned the Pharisees to “bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Not to just say they repented, but to evidence it with lives that showed a true change of heart. Jesus reinforced that idea even more later on when he said “by their fruits shall you know them.” It seems that not only is the Christ recognizable by what happens all around him, but also the Christian.

That leads me to wonder. First, in our times of doubt--when we begin to question if Jesus really is the one, or should we keep looking amidst the many religious choices in today’s world--what answer would Jesus have for us? Tell them that …what? What kind of Messiah would I see if I looked, not straight at Jesus, but to the sides? What actions of Jesus in this dark world speak louder in their definition of Jesus, louder than the words others tell me, or that I hear at church, or read in the bible?

I think perhaps the most amazing thing is that they would be not at all what I expected. Jesus wasn’t at all what the people of Israel expected, not what the Pharisees expected, not even what John expected perhaps! He didn’t do what they all expected. And I would even hazard to say that Jesus is not who most of us picture him as.

Now, let me explain that incendiary remark.

No doubt you’ve all heard about the movie The Lord of the Rings. This movie is based upon books that have been read and reread and reread by extremely loyal fans. Fans who have lovingly constructed in their imaginations all the characters and settings down to minute detail. So what’s interesting about this film is that its success in many ways depends on how true the filmmaker has been to the reader’s expectations visa vie, for example, what Frodo the hobbit looks like. No doubt some people will be very pleased, and some utterly disappointed in how the books have been translated to the big screen.

The same holds true for the people of Israel and us as well. They heard from the Hebrew scriptures what the Messiah was to be like. We know from the gospels the things Jesus said and did. But from that point, they constructed a Messiah of expectation, and we, a Jesus of the imagination. On what basis do I make this claim? Well, look at the reactions of the people of Israel to Jesus. What they had come to expect, what they cobbled together in their heads using the words of prophetic scripture as a starting point, was a warrior Messiah who came to free them from bondage to Rome. The gospels are full of accounts of the people’s attempts to reconcile their expectations with the reality of this Jesus of Nazareth. The two were fairly incompatible. Jesus was not the “expected” Messiah, even though he was the Messiah! Hence even John the Baptist starts to wonder.

In the same fashion, I believe that we have heard what we wanted to from the gospels, and then built an imagined Jesus that in many ways doesn’t interface—doesn’t really fit--with the rabbi from Nazareth who sat with sinners and touched lepers. Our imagined Jesus, perhaps best exemplified in that famous, sepia-toned portrait that hung in every Sunday School in America, and indeed hangs in our own, our imagined Jesus is always gentle, always politically correct, and never controversial. He is always in control, all-knowing in any situation, and just oozing with divinity.

Now, the problem lies, not in thinking about Jesus in those ways, but instead in how we react in situations in which the real Son of God doesn’t match up with the Jesus of our dreams. When is that, you ask? How about when a child dies on Christmas Eve? Or what about when Jesus says we should love one another—even those we can’t stand, think are beneath us, or consider to be evil? Or what about when Jesus says, blessed are the poor and woe to you rich—yes YOU rich! Or how about in the dark of the night when you’re in pain, and scared, and lonely. How hard it is to see the Jesus of our imagination then. How difficult it is to hold onto our preconceptions when they are running like water through the sieve of our well-intentioned idea of who Jesus is. The problem lies in how we react to the real Jesus, the true Messiah, when he acts in unpredictable, yet grace-filled ways. When Jesus gives us what we need, not what we want. When Jesus tells it like it is and should be, not the way we think it should be.

What is often our reaction in times and situations such as these? Dissention. Conflict. Denial. And doubt. Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect another?

What does Jesus point to today to define himself? He challenges us to look with the eyes of faith at the things going on in the periphery, so that we might not doubt, but believe in him. The blind see—those who were lost in despair have had their eyes opened through the work of dedicated disciples to find themselves in the arms of loving God. The deaf hear—those who were hell-bent on sin have been checked by those who would call them to repentance. The poor and the lame and the sick are tended and not held in contempt. Not all the blind, not all the deaf, and not all the sick and poor and lame. It’s not like you would expect. But if you look carefully to the side in the darkness that our sensationalist media has drawn over us, you can see these things occurring. And if you do, then you know the answer to your own question.

Yes, he is the one.

And that answer holds one major implication for us. Because in this world, we are now the body of Christ—the church. And the question the waiting world has for us is, “Are you the one?”

How would we answer that question? By reference to personal piety, to creeds, to statements of faith, to orthodoxy? Or could we answer that question, as did the Christ long ago, by reference rather to deeds, to lives faithfully lived, to the fruits that we bear, as individuals and as congregations and as a church?
If someone came into our congregation today, could we say to them, "Go and tell what you hear and see", with confidence that what they would see and hear would be the modern day equivalent of the blind receiving their sight, the lame walking, the lepers being cleansed, the deaf hearing, the dead being raised, and the poor having good news brought to them?

Think about the expectations the people in this community who do not attend church have of us, think about what image of the church they may have constructed using the interactions they may or may not have had with it during their lives. It may not match up with who we regard ourselves to be. But it is their reality. Jesus challenged the Jews’ conception as to the nature of the Messiah. With his radical message of grace and love, He continuously shatters our idealized storybook picture of him. Blessed are those who take no offense to me, said the Messiah, cause what I have to say and do is gonna defy the conventional, and rock the boat big time.

As his disciples it is now upon us to do as he did. We must say to this community, with actions that speak louder than words, “God is here!” With a little more than a week to go until the day when the greater majority of this community in some way, shape or fashion acknowledges in passing the existence of the Christ, think about this and pray on this—what will we show them when God awakens the wonder in them?

Calm Before the Peace

There were shepherds in the fields, watching their flocks by night. --Luke 2:8

It was a usual boring night for the shepherds in the fields surrounding Bethlehem. The sheep softly baaaing, no predators in sight, the dog was even asleep early. Everything was peaceful.

Ironic, that this pastoral scene is what precedes the in-breaking of the divine. Kind of the calm before the storm. Peaceful quiet--then bright light, booming angel voice, raucous angel singing, loud shouts of praise! The good news shattered the night.

And yet we know that the birth leads to good will and wholeness for all in God's time. It was really only the calm before the peace. On the way to that peace though--well, in the words of that great theologian Bette Davis: "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be a bumpy night." The world is about to turn--right on over!

Today we're waiting for the storm here in NH--a nor'easter. It will leave destruction in it's path. But we also wait for the coming of Christ. He will leave wholeness in his path. So remain calm, stock up, not on milk and bread, but on faith and trust, so that when the peace arrives, you're ready for the topsy-turvy nature of God's new creation. Live out the calm as if it were true already. Because it is certain.

God, your kingdom comes--make us ready for it today. Amen

Quote of the Day

"Fear not, for I bring you good news of great joy!" -- the angel to the shepherds in Luke 2.

Here's something to roll around in your head tonight:

Good news; but if you ask me what it is, I know not;
It is a track of feet in the snow,
it is a lantern showing a path;
it is a door set open.

G.K. Chesterton

God of grace, lead me in that track, shine your lantern for me, draw me through the door--bring me to be with you in the presence of Christ Jesus. Come, Lord Jesus, come! Amen

White Advent

"You know if the house owner had known what night the burglar was coming, he wouldn't have gone out and left the house unlocked. -Luke 12:39


Weather people aren't always right. But sometimes they hit it dead on. Today was one of those days. They said the snow was to start just after lunch - and it did, like clockwork! Only thing was--I hadn't heard the forecast beyond "snow today." And so when I left the office for lunch, I left my various projects laid out on the desk, the computer standing at the ready.

Had I known that the snow was starting then, I would have been prepared. I would have packed up my books, bagged the laptop, and brought it all home to work merrily away the whole afternoon and evening! Had I only known.

But I did know. I knew it was going to snow, how much, and what that meant for travel and such. I just didn't know when. When exactly, that is. I did know it would happen. Trust in your local meteorologist!

It's now just 11 days until Christmas. I have that on good authority. Come December 25th, we will celebrate the incarnation of our God. Then there's the second coming. The timing of the second coming is not that exact. I know it will happen sometime, sooner or later.
What shall I do to be ready for that event?

By far and away the biggest thing I can do to be ready is trust in God that it is coming. With that trust, I am in a constant state of anticipation and yearning for the day--so much so that it colors my world (vague Chicago reference. The band not the city). In other words, living each day as if the next would be the one makes each day full of joy and expectation, and a million plans. It's like waiting for your Christmas guests--you don't know when they'll arrive exactly--so you think of them, vacuum the rugs, put on a pot of coffee and wait. All the time dreaming of the fun you'll have when they get there.

So too with waiting for the Messiah. We clean out our hearts, think about Jesus as we know him through scripture, and wait. All the while planning what our initial reunion will be like. It's not a time of dread. But a time of joyous expectation!

So trust in the Lord. Be ready. Cause there 100% chance of Jesus coming.

Pastor

It's the Big One Elizabeth!

[The Angel said to Mary] And now your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. Luke 1:36

Red Foxx, the comedian, had a sitcom a long while back called "Sanford and Son." It was about the life of a widowed junk dealer, Fred, and his son Lamont. Fred was old and crotchety, and used to getting his own way. So much so, that when he was rebuffed, he would fake a heart attack. How you knew he was doing that was he would speak out loud to his late wife, "I'm coming Elizabeth--It's the big one Elizabeth!" And hilarity ensued!

Elizabeth in the bible is Mary's relative, whose husband is not a junk dealer, but a priest. An angel visits him with the news of John the Baptist's impending arrival, via Elizabeth. When he relays this information to his wife, who like him was very old--perhaps she almost had a heart attack! It's the big one Elizabeth! You're going to be a mommy!

And not only that--but she is restored as well. In that day, it reflected badly upon a woman if she could not conceive (even though it was just as likely to be the man's problem). So Elizabeth withstood murmurs and pointing fingers and shame for most of her life. And in a second that's reversed!

But not because she is now "fertile." Rather because God chose her even in her barren-ness to bear the precursor to Christ--John. God saw her not as deficient and old, but as a collaborator in the plan for salvation!


Childlessness or the blessing of children is not at issue here. What Elizabeth models for us is a human being--plain and simple and imperfect like the rest of us. And God chose her. As God chooses you and I, despite our barren-ness. Chooses us to help prepare the way for the Lord Jesus. Who is very near.

Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!

Pastor Tom

Patience

"Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord." James 5:7

Okay, I know I missed posting yesterday! I truly meant to, but I was working on a bible study and had just finished it, when all thoughts of blogging went out of my head! Sorry if you logged on and had to read "leftover fruitcake."

The author of James makes an analogy between us waiting for Jesus and a farmer "waiting" on a crop. One can assume this means Farmer is patient, knowing what the seeds need in time, water, and fertilizer in order to sprout.

I can't wrap my head around that--not being a gardener or farmer, and just a so-so houseplanter. When I think of needing patience, I think pizza. Order a pizza or cook a frozen one--no matter-- it takes 20 minutes for it to be ready. Longest 20 minutes ever for me!

But try and get it sooner? Doesn't work. Take-out would be too raw-doughy. And all you get is a pizza with a frozen center if you take it out of the oven too soon! A good pizza needs time. Time to make and time to bake. But the waiting I do is eager, anticipatory, Pavlovian. I can hardly wait.

To be patient and not jump the gun, I wait in a certain way. I set the timer to keep me aware. I get out some plates. Pour a glass of cold milk (yes, I know that's odd), and I get a napkin ready (cause pizza is messy stuff). I sniff the air for a whiff of fresh baked crust and melting mozzarella. I check the oven, or hop in the car and zoom over to the pizza parlor. I know these things have to happen before the pie is ready, and I know that's how to act to be ready.

In the same way, we wait patiently for the Lord by (as the letter of James reminds us) not grumbling at each other, strengthening our hearts (with worship, bible reading, practicing a spiritual discipline), and persevering in the face of adversity--like the prophets. That's how we act to be ready. That's patience.

How can we be patient? I can be patient waiting for pizza because I know it will be done. We can wait for Jesus, not only because Christmas will come 25th guaranteed, but because God has promised Jesus will come again. And that is as sure as the pizza being done. No--surer!

Lord God, give us the strength we need to wait patiently for the coming of the Christ. Amen

Fruitcake - draft sermon 12/09

Grace and peace to you from God our creator, and from God’s Son Jesus Christ, whose coming ushers in a new creation.

John the Baptist is a fruitcake! I mean—come on! Look at the way he dresses—hair shirt, leather belt—sounds like Fred Flintstone. Look at where he lives—out in the wilderness, by himself! And his diet—I’m not even going there. Okay, the honey sounds good. But not as dipping sauce for bugs! Ewww! John the Baptist is a fruitcake!

And not only for his lifestyle—have you ever really listened to what this guy is preaching? REPENT! Repent! He’s like the guy on the street corner, you know the one I mean—the one wearing a sandwich board sign that says “The end of the world is near—REPENT!” And that’s just the appetizer for John. The main course he directs towards the religious elite, the Pharisees and Sadducees—pious people of some social standing —the upper crust. He says to them, “You slithering snakes! Who warned you to flee the wrath that is to come?” Not exactly what you’d say to win friends and influence people! John the Baptist is a fruitcake. He’s out there.

Take this baptizing thing—getting people out into the Jordan River and dunking them, holding them under water long enough that when they break the surface coughing and sputtering, they know what death by drowning feels like.

[Reminds me of an old joke: Preacher is baptizing down to the river. And he dunks this fella once and when he comes up gasping preacher asks him, “Do you believe?” And the man answers, “Yes, I believe!” So preacher dunks him again. And pulling him up asks, “Do you believe?” “Yes, I believe!” comes the answer. So under the water he sends him a third time. And as the man comes up he asks him a third time, “Do you believe?” “Yes, I believe.” “And what do you believe?” asks the preacher. “I believe you’re trying to drown me!”]

That baptism thing was weird. Again—John is a fruitcake. And to top it off there’s the cryptic messages he gives the people. One who is more powerful than I is coming and he will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire—fire to burn the chaff left over from a great harvest that he will initiate. …Huh? What? Who’d want to be baptized with fire? And why not just tell us about this guy who’s coming—instead of using all that prophetic jargon and mumbo-jumbo? But getting an answer from him is like talking to a broken record. Repent! Repent! Repent! Talk about your one track minds! John the Baptist is really a fruitcake.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. “Pastor, it’s disrespectful to say that about someone. You should say, ‘John has a mental illness.’ You can’t use words like crazy, or loony, or nuts anymore. And not fruitcake, either.” To which I will have to answer, “Pishaw!” Not because I’m insensitive to people suffering from mental illness. But because when I say John the Baptist is a fruitcake, I mean to draw a comparison between the two. John the Baptizer is like a fruitcake. It’s an analogy. I even have my thesis down to a algebraic formula: John the Baptist is to Advent as fruitcake is to Christmas presents.

Now, I know what you’re thinking again. “Pastor, you’re a fruitcake! How does saying that help me interpret this difficult bible passage for today?” To which I’d say—first, you shouldn’t call someone a fruitcake, and second - you don’t really know your fruitcake, do you? Let me give you a little fruitcake primer…

First of all a little fruitcake fun facts. The name “fruitcake” comes from the Latin fructus, or sugar. In days gone by a fruitcake used to be made at the end of each harvest, but not eaten until the beginning of the next harvest—the density of the cake and the amount of sugar rendering it extremely preservable. The earliest mention of fruitcakes were as a part of the Roman army’s rations. So, John the Baptist might well have eaten fruitcake, if it hadn’t been for the bug thing. In colonial times, wedding guests often slept with a slice of fruitcake under their pillows, ostensibly to induce a dream of the one they world marry. A Victorian tea in the 1800s would not have been complete without a fruitcake. And Queen Victoria herself is said to have received one as a birthday present once and not eaten it for a year—to show her restraint, moderation, and discipline.

Or maybe it was because nobody really eats fruitcake! Something about it is somewhat distasteful. Maybe it’s the thick as a brick density of the cake, or the little bits of unidentifiable green fruit lodged in it, or the fact that many fruitcakes are made with enough liquor in them to get you a DUI on the way home from the Christmas party. If you were to eat it. Which you probably won’t.

So, fruitcake as a Christmas present is awkward. On the one hand, you appreciate the sentiment and the exotic nature of the cake. On the other, you can’t quite bring yourself to actually eating it. So, it’s either “re-gift” it along with that fondue set from Aunt Mabel. Sure to make you popular. Or, you could use it for your gift in a Yankee Swap. But chances are you’ll end up either with the cake or a black eye.

You might put it away in a cupboard and wait for it to go bad, so you can take it down and say, “Tut, tut! I was just about to enjoy this lovely fruitcake you gave me Cousin Delmar, but—darn! It’s moldy.” Unfortunately that idea won’t work because a fruitcake has incredible staying power—I believe they found pieces of fruitcake in with Tutankhamen. Still good. So, you’re stuck with it. It’s there, next to the spaghetti, right in your face, reminding you of its offbeat quirkiness.

Now—John the Baptist is to Advent, as fruitcake is to Christmas presents. Let’s analyze that statement…

John was not your run of the mill guy—fruitcake is not your run of the mill present (underwear is).

You never expect to get fruitcake, but somehow you always do. John the Baptist is unexpected—the authorities are caught by surprise by his harsh words. Which remind them of the prophets’—the tone is the same.

Believe it or not, some people actually like fruitcake. Others can’t stand it. John did have a following—presumably a large one. But even larger was the group who thought him deranged, a pest, and a danger to the government. That group included powerful people such as the Pharisee and Sadducees, the temple authorities, and King Herod. The message John brings along with the good news (repent!) is often unpalatable to those who actually believe they are doing nothing wrong. That includes us!

Fruitcake is unmistakable. You can always tell when a package contains it (it’s either that or a railroad tie). John’s message is unmistakable—repent. Turn aside from sin, face the Lord God who is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. John’s call is the same, morning, noon, and night, 24/7, 365 a year. Unmistakably John.

Fruitcake is also mysterious. What makes it so heavy? And how does it keep preserved for.. forever it seems? John is likewise a puzzlement. He talks about the one who is to come being greater than he—even though he came first. That’s vague in and of itself. We think we know what he’s getting at. John must decrease as Jesus increases—Jesus is the “One.”

But John speaks not only to us, keeping us aware of the coming kingdom, he also speaks for us—John is a typology for us. He represents us. We are unworthy to even carry Jesus sandals. We are to make way for the one coming who is greater than we are. We baptize with water, he adds the Holy Spirit.

And finally, in the grand scheme of things, fruitcake is a quick-y gift that merely hints at the splendor that is to come. It’s not at the top of anyone’s Christmas list, and it isn’t a gift you would pick out as your favorite. It does it’s job and then goes in the cabinet until next year—making room for the “real” gifts. In the same way, John appears in our lectionary twice during Advent, preparing the way unobtrusively, then fades into the background as the day of incarnation arrives. He makes a few more appearances during the year, but for the most part, his job is done and, like a Christmas fruitcake, he is set aside.

So, if perchance you are the recipient of a beautiful big block of fruitcake this holiday season, perhaps instead of stowing it behind the canned soup in the pantry, or passing it on to your Gramma Jones—you’ll open it up and share some with friends. And as you do maybe you could remember old John the Baptist, locusts and all, and then heed his cry (repent!) and turn away from self indulgence to greet the selfless One who is to come. Maybe you might even tell someone else about this Jesus who comes at Christmas.

And hey! You know what? If you do—you’ll be a fruitcake too! Amen

See You

"Although I have much to write to you, I would rather not us paper and ink [or bandwidth!], instead I hope to...talk to you face to face, so that our joy may be complete." 2John 1: 12

There's really no substitute for being there--that's something we feel keenly at this time of year.

So...











See you in church tomorrow?

Pastor Tom

Dream On

"..an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream..." Matthew 1:20

Do you remember your dreams? My wife does, usually--in great detail. Me--not so much. What do those dreams mean? Is our unconscious trying to say something to our conscious mind? Researchers say yes--but the meaning is up for interpretation. There's whole books on the subject.

Does God communicate with us through dreams? I'm of the opinion not. Mainly because in this day, God seems to speak only through means--prayer, study of his word, discernment of the faith community. Does that mean a dream couldn't be interpreted theologically? That, I believe is false--dreams can tell us something about God, or God's plan for us. I feel that comes from the unconscious mind working out the information and situations and knowledge of God presented it through the conscious mind. (of course, I'm a pastor, not a doctor)

So, Joseph's dream--was it the workings of an anxious mind, the direct manifestation of God's angel, or a bit of what he ate before bed? I believe it was God's direct intervention, but I don't think it matters. Joseph took it to be from God, and he did as God asked. That's the main point.

God of slumber and dreams, in this season of dreaming of sugarplums, let us be open to what our dreams might be telling us about you.
Amen

All Along the Watchtower

"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord, more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning." Psalm 130:5

Those who watch for the morning are the soldiers on the night watch, guarding the gates of the city. They long for the morning, not for the end of their shift, but because the dawn punctuates the uncertainty and danger of the night. With the morning light comes relative safety--so it was indeed longed for greatly. And yet the psalmist yearning for the coming of the Lord is deeper than that.

Tonight, in Baghdad and Kabul and Darfur and many other outposts of freedom, there are soldiers charged with the safety of the populace, who watch for danger and wait for morning. They are Americans, Iraqis, Afghans, and others, thrown together by their willingness to give their all to protect the innocent and free the oppressed. And the nights for these ones is a scary time. As they watch and wait and react to the night's events, they long for the morning, and along with the rest of us--they long for God's presence.

Meanwhile, back home, our souls long for God's peace. His Word gives us hope that one day the world will put down weapons and work together to feed the world, care for the sick and dying, and live in harmony with one another. We long for this even more than those men and women wait for the light of day.

Let us pray,

God, keep our soldiers safe, and guide them in their duties. Be a comforting presence for them as they face danger and horror. Bring them home safely. Give us your peace, that, through us, peace might come again to the world, as it once did in a manger one deep quiet night as the watchmen called the hours left til dawn. Amen

A Charlie Brown Theology

"He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly."
--from the Magnificat Luke 2:52

Did you think that A Charlie Brown Christmas struck a blow only against the commercialization of Christmas? Not so. It also illustrates the tender compassion our God has for the downtrodden. In this case, personified not by Charlie (who makes a good candidate but acts differently in the analogy I'm offering you today), but by the tree. The scrawny little needle-dropping tree that Charlie picks out.

That this tree is selected over the prettier, bigger, grander trees speaks to the way God has always operated in the world--the way the kingdom operates, the way God hopes we will operate with each other. The lowly one is lifted up--just like Mary, just like Peter, just like Paul, just like you and me! And, clothed in Christ, we are resplendent, shining for all to see!


Let us pray...
God, you lift me up though I am lowly. You make me new and beautiful in your sight. Help me to use that gift by lifting up others in your name. Amen

Johnny B.

"Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance."
John the Baptizer in Luke 3:7-8

People streamed out from the cities and towns to see John. Strange when you see the harsh words he had for them. He called them snakes! If I did that in a sermon...well, it's just not done in civilized society.

But John was anything but civilized. He wore far out clothes, lived in the wilderness, and ate bugs. That's why they come to see him. It kind of like the fascination we have with Brittany Spears! John realizes the shallowness of their pilgrimage, however, and uses it to announce the coming of one who will really knock their socks off! For reasons they were not expecting, perhaps even John himself!


What are fruits worthy of repentance? A contrite heart? A sorrowful attitude? Perhaps the fruits are varied. You should know, however unworthy your repentance is--the One who is to come will accept it and you!

Let us pray -

God, help us come to you with repentance, that you might make us new again. Lead those considering baptism to a community of faith and an encounter with you. Maranatha! Amen

Blessing

"Bless the Lord, O my soul--and all that is within me bless his holy name!" Psalm 103

Is it strange that we should bless God?