Posts tagged ‘sermon’

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December 25, 2012

Not So Silent Night

jesus-birthLuke 2:1-20
Christmas Eve 2012

Silent night, holy, night, all is come, all is bright. Round yon virgin Mother and Child . . .

I get chills every time I sing this song, especially on this night. I don’t know about you, but it seems to be the one carol of all Christmas carols that seems to pull at the strings of all of our hearts—a song that reminds us to slow down be still and consider what the birth of this child of a babe called Jesus is all about. It’s a song sung a few hours ago in the Holy City to commemorate what happened in this very special locale. Some say it wouldn’t be Christmas in Bethlehem without it.

In fact, I dare say, many of you would just not think it is really Christmas until you sing Silent Night by candlelight in community with others—just as we are going to do a in few moments. Maybe it is just tradition. Or maybe it is softness of this lullaby that evokes memories of when we were children. But, regardless as to why, Silent Night seems to be the carol for many of us that symbolizes the fact that on this night, it was not an ordinary night—it was eternally special.

It’s beautiful isn’t it the way we think of the Christmas story every year? Just like this song, we think of Christmas as peaceful, quiet, and so holy that we almost have to whisper so to honor the words . . . . Mary sleeping, all covered up in a long flowing robe with her hair perfectly combed to the side. The baby cooing, drifting off to sleep too while Joseph stands there, staff in hand, perched over the manger, with superhuman new dad strength to stay awake. The barn animals bowing at the newborn while the shepherds stand around in amazement of “the good news of great joy for all people . . . a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” It’s almost as if all the characters are glowing as we think of them, iconic in our minds just as we’ve seen them portrayed in stain glass windows cathedrals or in portraits.

We like Christmas this way. We like knowing that a hush fell over the crowd. We like proclaiming that “all is calm, all is bright.” We like pretty people doing beautiful things like giving birth. We like singing joyful songs about “good tidings to all people” believing we’re doing just as the angels did long ago.

It’s almost as if Christmas is the one time of year when we get to take a time out from all that is wrong in our world and believe again that peace on earth is actually real or at least has hope of coming to us at a time in the near future. Christmas provides so many of us the beauty that we crave in our oh, so messy world. Maybe that is why you came to church tonight—to find something anything that is better than what you were dealing with before you walked in these doors a few moments ago.

I hate to burst your bubble tonight and question some of this sentimentality of this moment. But, I think it would only be fair to the passage before us tonight we examined it more closely.

Though yes, Mary may or may not have been fully covered in long flowing robes, fit for the mother of the Son of God and her hair may or may not have been perfectly combed (probably not), remember this is a story about giving birth.

Giving birth, as many of you have experienced it is indeed labor. It’s full of sweat, tears, anguish, screams of “Get this baby out of me now!” It’s a messy enterprise, especially when you are going at it alone with no one to help you know what to do. (For Luke does not tell us that a midwife assisted with the birth). The main event of this night was about a long period of physical pain, agony, and maybe even some four letter words (or at least thought of them) coming to the forefront of Mary’s mind— what was God really thinking sending her far from home to have a baby in a stable? All was not silent, all was not bright.

And while yes, Joseph, may or may not have been staying awake, doing his good manly diligence of making sure his wife and newborn baby were indeed ok at all times, remember this is a story about an adoptive father.

Accepting a child as a man who you know is not your own can be more difficult than it might seem on paper. In this babe as Joseph stared into the manger, he did not see his eye color in the babe. He did not see his same thin lips or curly brown hair. Even more so, feelings of insecurity ran through Joseph’s bones as they would anyone forced from the resources of home now with a new baby in tow, a baby he was going to need to learn to love and care for as his own. I can imagine thousand thoughts of “what if?” ran through his head, even as relief settled into him that the baby was born and Mary seemed to be doing alright. What was God really thinking putting him up close and personal of this crazy plan? All was not silent, all was not bright.

And while yes, the barn animals and the shepherds may or may not have been looking lovingly into Jesus’ eyes well-mannered and glowing with excitement of finding the one “wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger,” remember this is a story about characters who aren’t used to getting much attention.

They’re field animals and workers who aren’t known for their being in close quarters with others. They don’t know where to sit. They don’t know what to say. When Joseph’s nose starts leaning over toward them the begin to realize they smell and aren’t really fit to be good company. Soon their social anxiety seems to want to get the best of them. They wonder why they came in the first place. Sure, those angels sang and it was quite a sight, but after awhile they could easily begin to second guess all of this in the first place. What was God really thinking dragging them to out to see this? In their troubled minds, all was not silent, all was not bright.

I almost feel sacrilegious in saying anything against the beauty or the time-stopping wonder of that first Christmas Eve. But, I really think as wonderful and as life changing and as powerful that wondrous night of the birth of Christ was—or Emmanuel, God with us came to earth—all was not silent, all was night bright.

Remember this was a human story—filled with human things we know a lot about.

Changing patterns in the night sky

Tyrant governors who declare we must pay more taxes and cause even expectant mothers and fathers to make out of the way trips

Women who give birth without medical professionals to help

First time parents wondering what in the world they’ve gotten themselves into

The awkward dance of human relationships

Strangers showing up at our door who we don’t expect

And because this was a human story, as much as Christ came it didn’t make everything 100% right way. The shepherds didn’t suddenly get the respect they deserved and a fair labor. Mary didn’t suddenly have any more discomfort from birthing a baby. Joseph didn’t suddenly have all the courage he needed to keep doing the right thing as he’d done so far. No, all was not calm, all was not bright.

But, what did Jesus do—what was the point? What are we celebrating tonight then if all was not calm, all was not bright?

Well, despite the circumstances or the flavor added in by the human characters, this remains this same: on this night, we celebrate Jesus, the one who was called Savior, Christ the Lord. We are celebrating the coming of the one to earth who would give all of us an opportunity to know what God is like in the flesh. We are celebrating the One who would later show us on a cross and on an Easter morning what God ultimately wants to give us—new life. We are celebrating the coming of light—light that would begin to shine and ultimately as this Jesus grew up, show us more of God’s love. Over time, as the story unfolds, more and more of his hope would be given to all of us.

Jesus comes as the light, the light that shone in our dark, dark world. A world where all was not silent, all was not bright.

What good news this is to our weary worn eyes tonight! What good news this is for us faithful churchgoers who have heard the Christmas story over and over again and wish our lives would change and so many remains the same year after year! What good news this is for those of us who want to follow Jesus but find our own depression, anxiety, fear or hurting hearts holding us back! What good news this is for our conflict filled families who will bicker around the Christmas table tomorrow! What good news this is for a world where little girls and boys and devoted teachers get shot on Friday mornings the week before Christmas!

No matter what may be, Jesus is the light!

And, though it is true and the light has come, we, like the first participants in the Christmas story, are residents of this world. We also must face the doubts of “Why me, God?” We also must face the loneliness of being close to the light and sometimes finding few are with us there. We must also face the anger of why bad things happen to so many seemingly good people.

But this does not change the light! We, my friends cannot change the light. No matter how we whim, or moan or mess up or what folks with guns or bombs may do, we cannot change the light. The light has come!

Jesus, this babe would later grow up to say, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world!”

And to you this night I say, take heart. Even on Christmas, you still live in a world of trouble. But the light has come and the darkness, no matter what, could not overcome it.

AMEN

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June 11, 2012

Disappointment with God

 Yesterday, I began a series of messages sticking close to the I Samuel lectionary texts– a series which hopes to expand the Biblical literacy of the congregation– really getting into the stories about Israel and come to understand more of the character of God.

Here’s an excerpt from yesterday’s sermon which focused on I Samuel 8:4:4-11, 16-20, the time in the life of Israel when the elders came to Samuel asking him to appoint for the nation a king. Here’s some background: 

… If we read earlier in the book of I Samuel, we realize that the nation of Israel is not in a time of complete peace and prosperity. No, their arch enemies at the time, the Philistines have been at it again.  And the Israelites face much defeat.  So in an effort to be on the winning side again, Israel’s commanders think that if they just take God, literally with them into battle that they will finally will be victorious, the ark of the covenant goes with them. But, the precious ark is stolen. Though later returned, this whole experiences leave the nation as a whole feeling unsecure and afraid. But, most of all, feeling disappointed.

God let them down.

Truly, where was this God– who was supposed to be their ultimate leader, their ultimate protector, their ultimate king– where was this God when they needed help the most?

Sure, the people of Israel were known to make mistakes from time to time, but weren’t they doing the best they couldn’t? Sure, they weren’t perfect or claiming to be, but why was God acting this way?

And, at this juncture of the story, you and I, all know this pain all too well. We have too felt disappointed by God in our lives, if we aren’t feeling that way even right now.

We’ve been disappointed at God as we’ve prayed and prayed till our knees have grown weak and weary about a real need in our family, and still seemingly nothing changed about our situation.

We’ve been disappointed by God when we thought we heard God speak to us at some point about a very specific thing that would occur and we are still waiting 10 years, 20 years, even 50 years later with nothing seeming to ever happen.

We’ve been disappointed by God as we have found ourselves in situations that have made us feel like we unfairly drew the short end of the stick in life’s lottery– we are 45 and still single without a desired life partner; we are 55 and have no savings for our retirement after experiencing lay off after lay off in our younger years; Or, we are 75 and widowed forced to plan our retirement years we once looked forward to alone.

We have been or are now disappointed with God because we’ve expected more from God than God has ever provided for us. We begin to wonder if God is not so great or good after all.

“Aren’t I a good person?” We wonder. “Don’t I deserve some of life’s greatest blessings like everyone seems to get so naturally?” We shout at the sky. “Don’t I deserve a life better this, come on God, really!” We proclaim.

 And, as usually is the case when we are disappointed with life– we do two things. We either grow bitter adopting a permanent woe is me look on our face. Or, we try to fix the problem ourselves. We move to action– asking for a completely different course of action.

In the case of the Israelites, we don’t see them rolling over to play dead in their disappointment, we see them moving to action– going to Samuel and saying in verse 4, “You are old and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us, like the other nations.”

“We’re disappointed in God, Samuel,” they say. We’ve had a good run of things with you, but let’s face it, God is about to completely let us down, even more so than we experienced while in battle with the Philistines because your sons are corrupt. So, fix it, Samuel. Make it better. Give us a king. Give us a king so that we can be like everyone else. Give us a King so we can feel better once again.”

And while commentators of this passage often disagree on who’s right and who is off base in this passage (after all, you always have to read Old Testament narrative through the lens of yes, we are hearing God speak, but he is speaking through human voices)– was God being unfair OR were the people being completely disobedient?

But no matter what answers to these questions– it doesn’t change the experience of deep disappointment with the divine that Israel faced at this time.  After all, don’t they say in business management courses that perceptions of people are reality?

But, this is what we know as we look at the long view of Israel’s history though at this moment, the people might have felt abandoned, left alone and failed by the One person who promised never to leave them, there something else that is true. And that is that God has not left them or forgotten them.

One thing that my spiritual director says to me all the time as I am wrestling through a particular issue in my life is that while I may be fixated on one thing it doesn’t mean that something else is not simultaneously true as well.

That, yes, it is true that in many situations of our lives we might feel lost; we might feel abandoned; we might feel disappointed in God.  (And, all of these are valid emotions full of grief that it is ok to feel and to sit in for a while if we need to). But, such does not change the fact that it is also true: God has not now nor ever will  forget us. While we may feel like God is distant, God is still present among us. “God will never leave us to face our perils alone” says the theologian Thomas Merton.

If we see how God continued to work in Israel’s life as a people, we know that the ups and down tales of disappointment continue, but never less, God never gets to a point when God says, “I’m just finished with you. I can’t take it anymore. I’m through with you. I’m throwing you away”

No, like a loving, patient parent, God continues to abide, surround and love this people, even when they face difficult situations where their expectations aren’t met– even when they get that king and another one after that and another one after that. And, having a king really never solves their problems. God is still there.

When God disappoints us, what then are we to do?

When in college, I sang with a gospel choir with a student director with as much enthusiasm as Whoopi in Sister Act movie. Though I don’t remember a lot about the songs I sang after all these years, I do remember one song that was a crowd favorite anywhere we went called “He’s Never Failed Me Yet.”

The climatic ending was repetitive chorus of “He’s never failed me; he’s never failed me (with a dramatic) yet.” Our choir director was always about a strong staccato ending so much so that this line has always stuck with me. Though the rest of the song contained beautiful lyrics like:

I will sing of God’s mercy,

every day, every hour, He gives me power.

I will sing and give thanks to Thee

for all the dangers, toils and snares that He has brought me out.

He is my God and I’ll serve Him

no mater what the test.

Trust and never doubt

Jesus will surely bring you out,

He never failed me yet. (x2)

It always seemed like such a strange ending to a song that was so confident, so faith filled, and then we had to go and throw on a “yet” at the end. I’ve often thought about that yet, wondering about why it was there. Seemed disrespectful or as if we were putting God to the test. As if asking the question if one day God was going to start failing us.  Wouldn’t that be against everything we believe about our Christian faith?

But since then, these words come back to me sometimes in the shower or in my car and I’ve lived more life, felt more of life’s pains and life’s deepest wounds, I’m so glad that the “yet” is included. Yes, it is good in our most disappointed moments to acknowledge that God has never failed us, but we are human after all so if we need to add the word “yet.” And I think this is just fine. Part of living the life of faith is staying with the “yet” long enough to let God be God and all that this mystery means.

In our disappointment history with our God, sometimes, I know it is hard to keep believing again and again to trust that all will be different as our story goes on.

But, this is our hope for today. This is our hope to claim. There is a long view to our life’s story. We may be disappointed with God, but we are never, never alone. Today I claim God has never failed me. He’s never failed me yet. What about you? . . .

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March 27, 2012

A New Relationship

Lenten Series– Promises in the Night:  A New Relationship

Jeremiah 31:32-34 with Mark 14: 66-72

Lent is a self-reflective time when we are asked to slow down and reconsider parts of our lives that we might just rush through at other times of the year.  

So, in the spirit of the season, I’d like to ask you this morning to reflect upon a few things with me just a minute. Consider a time in your life that you wish you could forget. This could be a time when you said something hurtful to a loved one, a time that you acted out in public in an embarrassing way, or even a long stretch of time when you rebelled and turned your back on all the good things in your life. If you were standing before God at the pearly gates right now, what are the moments of your life you wish that God would forget?

PAUSE

When I think about my life, I wish God would forget that day I ruined my father’s car by running over a cinder block (and wasn’t honest about it) just one week after getting my driver’s license.

I wish God would forget that day early in my marriage to Kevin that I was so angry I threw a shoe at him.

I wish God would forget the countless times I failed to love the Lord with all my heart, all my soul, and all my strength and to love my neighbor as myself.

I, like you, have many times that I wish just didn’t happen– that God would just forget.  

When we meet the apostle Peter, in the latest installment of Jesus’ dark night of the soul this day, we encounter him during a few moments in his life that I bet would be on his “I wish God would forget this” list too. Peter, does the unthinkable as Ken illustrated for us this morning as our worship began: he turns his back to his best friend.

And this is the scene: Jesus has just been arrested. He has been seized by the Pharisees and the chief priests and taken in for questioning. Peter follows Jesus to the courtyard of the house where the high priest held him. And though it appears that this will become his shining moment– being the only among the named 12 disciples who even follows Jesus after his arrest– such is not the case. No not at all.

When one of the maids, a young girl who served the high priest noticed Peter’s presence and remembered his face as one of the traveling companions of Jesus, she asks in verse 66: “You were with Jesus the Nazarene” weren’t you?

And though Peter should have said and could have said a simple “Yes. Yes, I was with him. Yes, I knew him.” , fear paralyzes Peter. He denies any connection to this man who had inevitably changed his life saying: “I neither know nor understand what you mean.”

What Peter? Are you serious Peter?  Yes, he was. He denied any knowledge of knowing Jesus.  It was going to cost him too much. Maybe they’d soon be arresting him as well. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.

So, as the young girl with a good memory– she just knows she recognizes  Peter as having been a friend of Jesus– asks the same question and again, again and again we get the same answer. He even goes as far to swear. “I do not know this man of whom you speak.”

And at that very moment, the cock crows for the second time to fulfill the prediction that Jesus had made of this “I wish I could forget it” moment of Peter’s life.  Peterremembers that the Lord had told him: “before the cock crows two times, you will deny me three times.”

It might have seemed at this juncture that all was lost for Peter and his relationship with Jesus. It might have seemed that Peter royally screwed up so bad that from that moment all would be lost. It might have seemed that Jesus would never speak to him again.  It might have seen that all of those years Peter prepared for this moment where all eyes were on him to make a confession were a complete waste.

In the same way, when we read the prophetic book of Jeremiah, we could easily be completely depressed too. Jeremiah affectionately known in modern times as the prophet who should have been on Prozac but wasn’t.  Scholars often called Jeremiah, the “weeping prophet”.

But, why? Commentator, Wil Gafney writes of the context of Jeremiah saying, “Jeremiah lived through the demise of his civilization when the Babylonians invaded Judah, assaulted Jerusalem, and reduced the temple to rubble, exiling, or killing the royal family, priests, prophets, and majority of the population.”[i] The nation of Israel turned their back on God’s plans for their nation. And thus, God allowed his beloved to experience the consequences of their own actions.  The nation was in exile. The temple was in ruins. Family members had died during the siege. There was certainly a lot to be sad and cry about.  It was a dark, dark night in the chapter of Israel’s history. It was a chapter, too, that I bet they’d wish that God would forget.

In particular when we read earlier in the book of Jeremiah, such as in chapter 5, we hear how bad things had gotten. Jeremiah was asked by God to tell the Israelites: “Announce this to the house of Jacob and proclaim it in Judah; Hear this you senseless people… [you] have stubborn and rebellious hearts…” Not exactly the warm fuzzies anyone would want to hear.

The nation of Israel, like Peter, rightfully shared guilt. They’d messed up. They could have assumed that the relationship and the shared history was over.

But,  the tune of verse 31 of Jeremiah chapter 31 tells a different story. “The days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the people of Israel and the people of Judah.”

I don’t know if you are like me, but when I mess up (and I know it!) there’s nothing more I want to do than bury my head in the couch for a while. Most certainly, I don’t want to hear of some new hopeful plan. Licking our wounds feels good for a while, doesn’t it? But, the Lord would have none of it.

Sure, Israel had messed up. Sure, they’d fallen short. Sure, they’d broken all of the covenants they made with God up Mount Sinai. They’d worshipped other gods. They’d had affairs. They’d not kept the Sabbath. They’d not welcomed the foreigner or blessed the stranger. It was grounds for divorce.

And so, because Israel had broken the covenant, God had EVERY reason to set them aside.  Israel had certainly checked all the boxes that were grounds for divorce. God kept God’s end of the deal, but Israel had not. God could walk away knowing God did all that could be done.  Certainly, God could try again with this “my chosen people” business with another group.

But, instead, a re-marriage ceremony is offered. God says to Israel verse 33:”This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel after that time . . I will put my law in their minds and write it on their hearts.”

Stacy Simpson writes of this God we encounter in Jeremiah saying, ” In the evangelical tradition in which I grew up, we spoke of “letting Jesus into our hearts.” He stood there patiently and knocked, waiting as long as it took, and when we were ready, we swung the door open and invited him in. But, the God of Jeremiah will have none of that. This God has grown weary of people’s inability to keep his law. No more will the covenant be written in stone, a covenant which was external and could be broken. Instead . .. God says “I will write it on their heart.” The heart of the entire people will bear the covenant.”[ii]

God takes an active role in restoring the broken relationship. Which is another way of God going to marriage counseling with Israel saying, “Let’s start over. Because I want to make a new relationship with you.”

But, how could God do this? Doesn’t God remember all the pain of heartache, rejection and loss? Doesn’t God know that if he works toward reconciliation that it all might go sour again?

Such is why the final verse of promise is important. Look with me at verse 34 as the Lord says, “For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.”

This new relationship was based on 100% forgiveness. To move forward and to have a chance of the coming of the new– the past needed to be forgotten. And, God makes this move.

How many times in relation to the topic of “forgiveness” have you heard the phrase, “forgive and forget?” And I think as equally number of times that this phrase is spoken aloud, thoughts of those who hear it also think, “I cannot forget. Maybe I can forgive, but forget is something I can’t do.”

For there’s something about the human brain, isn’t it that just wants to hold on to things, especially the unfavorable stuff.

In a recent conversation with a friend, we sat around a coffee table and recounted all of the negative things family members, classmates or even perfect strangers said to us at one point in our lives. And it was easy to make the list long. And if you were to make a list too, I’m sure you could without difficulty make one.

There was that time in the 4th grade that one of the well-liked, well-dressed girls told you that you were fat and your teeth were crooked. You’ve never felt the same about your body since.

There was that time in college when you rushed for a fraternity only to not make the cut because you family name didn’t have enough money associated with it. You’ve been trying to make as much money as you can with your chosen career ever since.

There was that Christmas holiday when who you thought was your favorite aunt came over and found fault with all your home’s decor. You’ve been afraid to host a family gathering since.

And there was that time you expressed interest in painting and began creating beautiful pallets of color and texture and a friend walked into your studio said, “Well maybe in 10 years you’ll find some talent.” You’ve put down the brush ever since. 

No matter what your  ”there was this time” story is, I think it is safe to say that we all have them. We all have times in our lives that something has been said to us or about us that we’d wish we could forget.

So what good news this is to all of our ears– what a promise in the night God’s gift of a new relationship can be!

For just as we mess up, as the nation of Israel did time and time again, and just as Peter denied Jesus on a night when it mattered the most, we worship a God who promises us a new start.

But not just  any old new start. A new start where those chapters in our lives that we most want to forget are forgotten, but also the painful wounds imposed on us by others can also be forgiven. We are not God of course,  so we probably are never going to be able to forget the ill that has been done and said against us, especially those deeply traumatic memories. But, we take heart and remember that  God can do what we can’t. God can forget so we can live. And, as beloved children of the heavenly parent, we too have words of this covenant are written on our hearts– so no matter what, we’ll never be left alone. We have a sign of God’s relationship always with us. There is nothing we could ever do that would not keep God’s love from us. Nothing.

So in light of this, and in response to this sermon today, I want you to find a comfortable seated position where you are right now for a moment of meditation. Clear everything off your lap and place both feet on the bottom of the floor.  And, close your eyes and take your hands and place them at the center of your lap with your palms facing open.  And right now, I want you to call to mind the two things that we talked about in the sermon for this morning.

1. Something you’d done in your life that you’d wish God would forget.

2. Something someone has done to you that you wish you could forget.

And in the quietness of this moment, I want you to imagine that you are holding both of these somethings in your hands. Holding them tight by balling up your fists with them in it. One in one hand and one in another.

Now, as I re-read the passage for this morning– Jeremiah’s promise in the night, I invite you to listening closely. And, as you listen imagine these somethings being released. Of letting them go, as you are able, why? because in grace, God has already forgotten.[iii]

31The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.32It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord.33But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.34No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

Thanks be to God who makes all things new!

AMEN

[i] “Lectionary for October 17, 2010: Jeremiah 31:27-34″ Working Preacher. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=10/17/2010

[ii] “Branded by God” The Christian Century http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=2032

[iii] Thanks to David Lose of Working Preaching.Com for this idea.

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December 18, 2011

Reconsidering Joseph: the Forgotten One

Love That Binds Us Together: Matthew 1:18-25

This week I was putting up Christmas decorations around our home and time came for my favorite part: arranging the nativity.  Though some preachers I know take Advent to the extreme (I know you think I’m one of them, but trust me, I am not) and refuse to have Mary, baby Jesus or even the Wise Men placed in the manager scene before Christmas begins, I find it perfectly acceptable put them all out before the occasion.

 Kevin and I got a nice set of individual pieces from an aunt and uncle of mine as a wedding gift, but I have to say, that it wasn’t until this, my fourth time of putting them out did I notice something was missing. 

There was baby Jesus. There was Mary. There was a shepherd (though sadly only one). There was an angel. And there were even three Wise Men.

But, no Joseph. So, I asked Kevin, “Are we missing Joseph? Did something happen to him two moves ago? Did we leave him in Maryland?” “Nope, “he said, “I don’t think we’ve ever had a Joseph.”

“No, Joseph? What is going on??”  My nativity just didn’t seem right.

Recently, a dear friend of mine who recently had a baby was asked by a local congregation in the city that she lives to be a part of the drive-thru living nativity.

With her daughter less than 2 months old, and the church without enough newborns on its membership roles to cover the multi-evening event,  the baby girl was desperately needed to staff an important role: Baby Jesus to ensure the play’s success. 

When I asked about details, I inquired what my friend would be up do during the hour play. Would she watch nearby? Of course, she said, she would not leave her baby alone on the hay so the director made arrangement for her to be staffed as Mary. She would be on site in case baby girl (aka Jesus) cried and needed to be nursed or needed a diaper changed.  Mary and baby’s relationship was crucial to the show going on.

 But what about her husband? “What was he going to be doing during the afternoon?” I asked. Though any man would have worked just fine, her husband was told he could tag along in costume as well, playing Joseph, but only if he really wanted. If not, other fill-ins would be easy to find. 

I don’t think dear ole Dad was feeling the love of the event with a part that was so replaceable.

Of all characters to be left out if one had to go in our Christmas plays and pageants, Joseph, I guess is the one we could most easily do without.

In Luke’s account of the naivety that we all almost know by heart, Joseph doesn’t have any lines. If Joseph was looking for a script from the Biblical text, he’d have trouble knowing what to say or do. For all we know is that he is called to census in his hometown of Bethlehem which is how Mary ended up giving birth to Jesus in this small town. He’s not wrapping the baby up in those nonexistent clothes. He’s not coming to worship or bringing gifts. He’s not treasuring all of these things in his heart. He makes no grand gestures or tries to upstage anyone. He’s just simply there. This is all.

However, if we read the less popular, but still important version of the birth story from Matthew’s gospel, we find just the opposite,  Joseph playing a leading role: crucial to the operation Son of God comes to earth mission going on without a glitch. Though not given a huge speaking part, what we learn is the how Joseph’s response to both Mary’s pregnancy and the birth illuminates how It is love that binds us together in Jesus Christ: yes, all of us, even the strangest of us all.

When Mary is found to be “great with child” according to Jewish law, Joseph had every obligation to divorce with his fiancée if he knew the child was not his.  Sure, he could have scoffed off the Jewish law if he wanted and pretended without cause, but the Matthew writer who is always concerned with the Jewish point of view, tells us that Joseph was not your high holidays kind of Jew, he was a righteous man. And being a righteous man, a man who didn’t want to bring this young girl and her family any more hardship than she would already experience with a divorce to their name, he came up with the plan to divorce her without any bells and whistles. And to ensure that Mary and her unborn child were not killed out of it– as the law says that stoning her was an option.

And in his “seeking to the right thing” ways of life this “quiet divorce” plan seemed like a good plan. It was his lovingly way of both following what he thought God wanted (the law) and what was in the best interest of Mary (the law).  For God and the law were one in the same at the time.

But, then everything changed one night when he went to sleep.

I don’t know how many of you have dreams on a regular basis that you remember.  While this is something I personally struggle with (actually remembering), I know that it is a spiritual practice of many of you and is in line with the Biblical narrative of how God works in this world to deliver deep truths to us, often truths that are deeper than we are able to consciously understand in the daytime.

Such was true for the life of Joseph. Though we are not told by Matthew if hearing from God was something that Joseph regularly paid attention to or ever experienced before or after this event, there was something I can imagine that was quite powerful about this dream that Joseph not only heard in the quietness of his own heart but felt so strongly about it that he later widely shared this encounter (so we could read it for ourselves today).

So, while Joseph had made up his mind of what he was going to do, of what righteous looked like to him. God had other plans. Actually much bigger plans.

Upon hearing God’s plans, he was not to be concerned, but to believe Mary– to take to heart the message that had been told to her from the angel Gabriel. 

Indeed the child that was growing within her, was not his, but was the Lord’s doing. And, because this baby was of the Lord, Joseph needed to embrace the babe as such, welcoming him into his life, into his family, into his history, as Joseph would do with any other child of his that might come in the future.

(I am not male pastor as you can tell. And the following which I am about to say seemingly would come better from a male voice, but in this case today, I’ll just have to do).

 While amazing, life-change and awe-inspiring news this was in a dream, I can only imagine how hard it was for Joseph to accept it. And, with Mary soon delivering a baby who was not technical “his,” I can imagine the ego of Joseph deflated just a little. Especially in a culture where family heritage was everything, especially with identity attached to any offspring that is a part of what it means to be a “man,” learning that “Yes, the baby in Mary is not your child, but love him anyway” was tough as I believe it would be for any man today. 

How hard it was to stand by his self-descriptor of “righteous man”  or “godly man” when God as the sperm donor came along!  For it wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to about such an experience among his hometown friends– this God and this Emmanuel was too weird for any sort of reasonable explanation.  No one had heard this before.

But, in obedience to the word of the Lord that he knew in his gut that he had heard, he decides to keep Mary as his wife and “adopt” Jesus as his son.

He stays to be the one Mary needed  to lean on as she soon will undergo the pains of childbirth.

He stays to fulfill the prophecy that the Messiah would be coming from his family line.

He stays because he cares for Mary, even if they were having the craziest spiritual experience they’d ever heard of, and with both of them on the same page, the needed to find encouragement from one another to stick with it.

He stays because by his sheer presence– even if he doesn’t say a thing– he provides the protection Jesus will need to grow up, mature and fulfill the reason his was born in the first place.

Joseph stays because though easily left out of nativity scenes or Christmas plays or even forgotten by us regular church goers, his love for God, his love for Mary and his love for Jesus is what binds this story together. Without his love, there would be glory of Christmas morn that we will celebrate next Sunday. Though not cast in a traditional role, though not cast in a role he had originally wanted or planned for, the story could not go on without Joseph’s realization of God’s love shinning upon all of them in the days leading up to the birth of Christ.

Recently, Carolyn Reith was helping out the Outreach committee in gathering pictures for the new design of our church website which will be live early in January (yay!).  You might have noticed her drawing groups of you all to the side, taking your snapshot– even if you wanted your picture taken or not.

Several weeks ago, when viewing the pictures that Carolyn sent over the church office of all of you, I couldn’t help but feel struck by our diversity as a congregation. At first glance, each of the individual shots of you all didn’t seem like you all would fit in an organization together, much less a church family. We are all so different!

Yet, when talking about how much I liked these pictures and showing them to a friend, I realized what the reason is for our community working here– why after years of trials and changes to the Plaza and so on, we’ve stuck together. And the reason is love.

We’ve been bound together by our love for God and for one another. And even when someone new has come into the mix as we hope happens regularly, we like Joseph, seem to be the kind of people who see the bigger picture of humanity in it all– treasuring the sight of God even in the strangest of situations that present themselves here.

But, if I were to end my story here, I would be remiss, because as good as we are at loving, church, we have a growing edge with the last part of the sermon title for this morning “that binds us together.” For yes, as a community, when I look back over the past year, I see countless, numerous, overwhelming examples of how we’ve loved each other, but what I don’t always see in our midst are examples of how we’ve been bound together in our love.

For if we are going to follow the example of Joseph this day and make room in this the 4th Sunday of Advent for more love in our lives, we’ve got to think more closely about sticking closer together.  And this is what I mean:

Like Joseph, when times get tough, when life gets rocky, our first response needs to be of sharing, clinging, staying put instead of running away.

Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, a seminary classmate of mine from Duke, writes in his book the Wisdom of Stability, how easy it is in a culture such as our to be lured away by the promise of a better offer. We think things are always better somewhere else, with someones else. Yet, he talks about how what the gospel witness needs more of comes in packages of permanency, unconditional presence and not hitting the road, leaving a church or a community when people get on your nerves (for inevitability they will!).  

Not only do we need to stay put more often, but as we stay put, we need to ground ourselves in community life making giving and receiving here a priority. 

I’d be remised if I didn’t say to the Christmas only crowd this morning, how much we’d love to see you in January. 

I’d also be remised if I didn’t say to the regulars around here that sticking together means that we’ve got to spend more time together. Sure, we are all busy. Sure, this town where we live runs like nobody sleeps and thus we often  we don’t really either. But if we are going to be a community that makes room for the Christ child, just as Joseph did, then we have to start investing in one another outside of Sunday mornings.

This is what real, love, my friends is all about in the first place. Love is not short-tempered. Love does not keep record of wrongs. Love does not leave when feelings are hurt. Love stays. Love protects. Love, God’s love, is what binds us together.

When I think about all that we’ve been preparing for this Advent season. Our “What’s coming?” preparations of hope, peace, joy and now today, love, it’s love that I know our community need the most to have a bright future for the new year.  Didn’t the Apostle Paul once say about love, “Now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Thank goodness then, as we prepare to welcome on Saturday night, Christmas Eve, the babe called Emmanuel, God with us, born for us, we welcome the one who taught what love truly meant for Jesus was love incarnate. And, by following him, we can learn to love one another.

AMEN

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October 17, 2011

Intentional Dependence

Intentional Dependence

Exodus 16:2-15

Only when you trust someone, do you begin to really get to know them.

Such was a life lesson I began to learn from all of the youth group trips my parents forced me to attend, beginning in the 7th grade.

Every fall, when the air was crisp and cool like it is beginning to feel right now, the motley crew of suburban churchy teenagers and I along with our leaders would board a bus headed for the mountains. Though many of us attended with the hopes of hanging out without our friends, usually our youth leaders would have something else in mind as a purpose of the weekend: group bonding.

Sounds simple enough, but the measures such leaders would take to teach us how to trust each other always seemed extreme to me. I will never forget the fear that came over me as a scrawny little 7th grader on my first fall retreat when I was introduced to the “trust fall.” Some of you may be familiar when this activity too from similar workplace retreats.

The concept of the trust fall was simple: each participant in the group would be asked to climb up on a large platform, in our case, built into a tree, and stand with their back to the group assembled below with their hands crossed like this (place hands across chest). The group standing below would lock their hands together to their corresponding partner. And, then, as the person up on the platform, you’d be asked to fall backwards “depending” that your group mates would catch you.

While the whole activity takes merely a few seconds from start to finish, the emotional toil of preparing for and processing the experience afterwards took much longer. For, as much as I wanted to be the “cool” new 7th grader, I could remember how I felt about being such in a vulnerable position of being held, carried and supported by older kids that I barely knew.

But, after (with much encouragement) submitting myself to the trust of the trust fall, feeling like I was on top of the world, like no other experience– for even though I shed a tear or two in anticipation of the actual fall, the group still accepted me. In our trust of one another through this exercise, we began as a group, the experience of really getting to know each other.(Watch out church council members… we are having a retreat this Saturday).

In our scripture passage for this morning, no matter if they liked it or not, the Israelites were also facing their own version of a “trust fall” experience as well. For since we last journeyed with them last week, when courage had been their intention in crossing the Red Sea, in no time, they faced new challenges. For as much as they thought they knew this God who had told them to walk across the sea on dry ground, they were realizing that the adventure had only just begun. Maybe they didn’t know this God as well as they thought.  . . . for life was getting just a little bit more scary than they imagined.

The land they found themselves in was somewhere around the Sinai Peninsula, a geographically barren place. Differing from the lush vegetation that the Israelites had enjoyed in Egypt next to the Nile River, the change in scenery meant that gathering basic necessities for life was all that much more difficult.

And so what we hear them doing as our passage opens in verse two is complaining– saying the grass was greener on the other side of life, literally.

But such outcries weren’t new to the story. Such was what had happened when they stood on the banks of the Red Sea with the Egyptian army soon approaching saying, “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die?” and such was also what they said when it became apparent only three days later that water was going to be hard to come by in the desert
too.

Yet, protection from their enemies and water was not their only need. Soon the Israelites voiced concerns for food in verse 3 saying to Moses and Aaron, “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”

We hear these words coming out of their mouths and our first instinct is to judge and say shame on them for complaining, but the truth be told, they really did have every reason to voice their concerns. Like I felt climbing for the first time up on that platform getting ready to fall into the arms of my just as inexperienced peers, so the Israelites had never seen or done anything before
like this either.

None of them had attended Boy Scout camp and gotten their “how to survive in the wilderness when your leader doesn’t even know where you are going” badge.

None of them had gone on a pre-mission trip to plot out the locations where food and water could have been.

None of them had been given any sort of road map so that in this crisis they could at least muster up some of their own intellect to figure out what might be next.

They were where they were because they were following the deity they knew as Yahweh after all, so seems fair, doesn’t it that a lament to God was in order?

After all laments are all about giving voice, as one theologian writes, “to the human experience of abandonment, suffering, fear and danger. [To lament is to] call upon God to see arise and act.”[i]

So, in their laments, they were actually turning toward God in the hopes that in making their requests known, that God actually heard them.

But the thing is about laments, which we know from the times when we make them in our own lives too, is that the solutions we come up with are not always the most level-headed solutions or even the best scenarios at all for getting us out of our predicaments.

For the Israelites, their complaining lament focused on going back to Egypt. They wanted to go back because it was a land, even with all of its oppression was a place where they at least knew the rules.

They knew that they only had themselves to trust there. And if they put their head down, worked hard and sought to do as they were told, then hopefully their slave masters would show pity on them. And, at least at the end of the day in Egypt, no matter how hard it was, they earned food by their own hands to put in their mouths.

However, only when you depend on someone do you actually begin to get to know them.

But, this journey, as it began at the Red Sea and would continue for many years to come would not be about what life was like in Egypt. It was and always would be about God and getting to know Yahweh who had called Moses to be their leader many years ago by saying: “I AM who I AM”

You see, the time for self-sufficiency was over, working hard to earn their own keep or even having a predictable life routine. The journey in the wilderness would be about getting to know this God who was leading them with a cloud by day and a fire by night– and some surrendering was in order. To know this God, they’d have to first depend on him.

As we continue to read this passage, we see that the provisions of God, came from the heavens– and no matter if you believe this part of the story was an actual miracle or just some circumstances of chance– the message is still the same: the ways of God were different from life was in Egypt. And now, out of Egypt, what the people were most to learn was all about this God. And as the Israelites
got to know this God, they too might have to say to one another, “What is it?” because it was going to be nothing like they’d ever seen done before.

I love verse 15 for this very reason, for when the bread came and the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” for they didn’t know what it was. And the actual translation of “what is it?” is the word manna which we know the bread as in our Bibles today.

In every morning that the people gathered the bread and in every evening that gathered the meat, promised by God as their provisions, they were practicing faith. They were relinquishing control. They were being intentionally dependant
on God.

I can imagine that countless of the people had never been that dependant ever before in their lives. They’d never seen anyone they could depend on other than themselves before. They’d never really seen the point before.  And, I can imagine as this challenge was placed before them, that they didn’t like it very much either. But, it was their calling regardless: to trust God.

I shared with all of you last week that on September 30th a dear friend and mentor of mine, Joseph Smith, who had preached here once before and with whom I had served at a previous congregation, had died.

Joe, for those who knew he was a man who worked hard his entire life serving in various ministry position through the DC Baptist Convention that Washington Plaza Baptist is a part of. He worked almost too hard sometimes. His wife Margaret of over 50 years was always encouraging at him to take a break, slow down, stop. But, that was not how Joe rolled.

He regularly spent hours of his time in his study organizing his preparations for anything he was in charge of and always thinking of ways that he could be most helpful to those in the sphere of influence in his life, even when he was said to be “retired.”

However, out of nowhere, most unfairly, he was diagnosed with lung cancer, though not a smoker, over a year and a half ago. Recently, after chemo and a series of blood conditions developed as a side effect of his treatment, Dr. Smith was weak and fragile only taking baby steps around his house with a walker. The man who had gone and did some more (more than anyone ever asked him to do) was now utterly dependant on family and friends who could look after him.

In one of our last correspondences with each other he wrote me about how hard it was to be the one in need of the visit instead of  being the pastor making the house calls. He told me how much it ached him when he no longer had the energy to be the first one to reach out or contribute to the care of others. He hoped people would not forget him in his time of need. Though such a sentiment came to me through a comment he posted on my blog, the feelings he shared were a modern version of a lament of how hard this dependant
stuff is for all of us.

I don’t want to be one of those preachers who stands here before you this morning and says that God sends onto this planet drought, famine, life-shattering illnesses like cancer in order to teach us how to be dependent creatures.  Sounds too much like a sick plan of an abusive Father, rather than a loving God to me. Because I don’t believe in a God that willing places us in harm’s way just to teach us a lesson.  I don’t believe in a God who is that evil like that.

But, what I do know is that God desperately wants us to know who God is. And, sometimes the trajectory of our lives, in this broken world of ours will take a turn into the wilderness, unavoidable to us: a place where all seems lost.

And it is in the wilderness, like no other time in our lives, that we can learn about who God really is. A God who says to us, I hear you, I see, you and even if the provisions I provide look like manna (“what is it?”) still you will be nourished. Still you will be full.

So, today, I ask you, where you do you want to go to church?

Where you want to make your house? Do you want to live in Egypt? Or do you want to be on the journey to the promise land?

If you want to go back to Egypt and what has worked for you in the past, then know there is no freedom there. There is no leader here who knows your name. There is no hope here that life will be better tomorrow; just more of the same.

But if you want to go to the Promised Land, if you want to abide in the presence of the One who knew you before you even knew yourself if you want to know the One who says I am the beginning and the end, then, dependence is a word that has got to come into all of our vocabularies.

For our calling is to get out on the ledge a little more and to fall into the arms of a God who can be trusted is in fact not as a bad as we thought it might be– for when we make our laments, when we tell God what is really on our minds, some “what is it?” might just be falling to us on the horizon.

Let us stand still and in whatever state we find our lives in today: receive.  Singing together, “Here I Am Lord.”

AMEN

[i]Elna K. Solvang “Lectionary for August 2, 2009: Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15.”
www.workingpreacher.org/preaching_print.aspx?commentary_id=354

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