Christmas Eve 2009

Welcome The Gift Who Arrives
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)

TJ was big for his age – seven years old. He was awkward in his mannerisms and his speech, kind of a slow learner. Everyone in TJ’s class wondered what role the music teacher would give in the upcoming Christmas play. Maybe she’d let him pull the open the curtain. When the parts were finally assigned, to everyone’s surprise in the class, the music teacher gave TJ the role of the innkeeper. The boy was overjoyed to get the part. After all, all he had to learn was just one line: “There is no room for you here.” He studied that one line and committed it to memory. The big night finally came. Every seat in the theater was filled.

Cameras and video cameras were at the ready, the house lights went down, and the audience went silent. The classes all entered singing “O Come All Ye Faithful,” as they took their place on the risers. When the set was wheeled in just left of the singers, Mary and Joseph entered and walked to the front door of the inn. Joseph knocked. TJ opened the door, and Joseph said, “Please sir, do you have any room for the night? My wife is… TJ was supposed to interrupt him with his line, but he hesitated. “There is…” He had practiced the line all day and now he forgot it. TJ started over again. “There is…” And again his mind went completely blank. Some singers behind him snickered, but TJ just didn’t know what to do. Joseph wanting to move on, took Mary’s hand and started walking away toward the stable down-stage. Seeing the young couple walk away disappointed, TJ out of desperation said the only thing he could, “Wait, there’s room at my house.”

When we scan the characters of the Christmas story, we recognize their roles, we are familiar with them, and we have grown close to them over the years. We hear about the perseverance of the far eastern astrologers who made the long trek, bringing with them the rare gifts fit for a true king. We think about the ever vigilant young men tending to their sheep on the outskirts of town, and why this group of people was the first to tell of the coming of God among them. They are the heroes of the story.

Yet, when we think of innkeeper, our immediate opinion of him is not so positive. It’s as if we see him standing there in the doorway of the inn, yawning from his disturbed sleep, giving Mary and Joseph the evil eye, and with the long day behind him, the inn full of nagging guests in their rooms snoring away, from an unwilling attitude to help, he says, “Take the stable out back and leave me alone.” We’d like to think that the innkeeper was a little more understanding, but maybe at that hour, after welcoming so many into the inn, fielding the many concerns and questions of his guests about the census, and maybe the final straw was running out of clean towels and vanity soaps, the innkeeper’s fuse was shortened because of the long day.

Yet, regardless of what was said to Mary and Joseph by the innkeeper, the hard reality of that night, was that there was no room at that inn to be found for the young family expecting their first child. It was if the very first message Jesus ever received from the earth he came to was one of rejection: “there’s no room for you here Jesus.”

Looking back at any situation offers a 20/20 perspective. Had the innkeeper known who was knocking at his door that night, would he have been overjoyed like young TJ was, to offer the young holy family his own room? Would he have welcomed the baby Jesus into his own his own home, into his own place of business, and more importantly, into his own life? Would the innkeeper having looked back and realized who he could not welcome into his life, would it have changed his perspective about this desperate young father and mother to be? How would his life have changed had there been room enough for Jesus to come on in….not only into his home, but into his heart?

I can’t blame the innkeeper. Because the innkeeper is us. It’s easy to not pay attention to the unannounced knocking of God in our hearts, when we are too preoccupied to welcome Him. Everyone of us in some way, shape, or form, has simply gone on with our own business, adding to the chaos of a blurry world of activity, schedules, and deadlines, blatantly oblivious to the signs of the holy around us. We thank God for coming, but we’d rather live by our own priorities. Maybe we can squeeze God in only when we determine there’s room enough for Him. Maybe we give God only room enough to come to us when we assume we know how much space He requires. And, yet without question or second thought, as we sing the mighty song “Joy To The World” at the top of our lungs, we proclaim “Let every heart prepare Him room.” When the arrival of God is treated as another thing we have to find room for, it’s not really a gift is it? Don’t we sense that our lives are worth more than just adding to the emptiness within? Don’t we sense there could be so much more in us than just another year of disappointments, empty promises, or regrets? Don’t we sense the best gift is welcomed into our hearts, right here tonight?

The baby Jesus comes so that all people will experience the fullness of God’s presence in their lives, in their jobs, in their families, and in the very center of what gives them life; people will experience God in their hearts. God comes to each of us tonight, so that we might be filled with His very life; a life that began in the soft beauty of a baby. Isn’t this the best gift we can receive?

Receiving this gift as we do reminds me of a story I once read that I’d like to share with you.

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat my infant son Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi there." He pounded his fat baby hands on the highchair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat: dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be boots. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed, matted, and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I am sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. "Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik. husband and I exchanged looks as if to ask, "What do we do?" Erik continued to laugh and wave at him. Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. They all kind of gave us staring glares as if to say, how dare you bring your baby here and make so much noise while we’re eating, and with your baby giving attention to that man who doesn’t deserve it!

The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, "Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo." Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We all sat there and ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.

The old man sat poised between me and the door. As soon as I saw the situation, I immediately prayed, "Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik.” As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to shield Erik, but Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's "pick-me-up" position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man's. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young happy baby met in a beautiful relationship. Erik, in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder.

The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and years of hard labor--gently, so gently, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood speechless.

The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a soft gentle voice, "You take care of this baby." Somehow I managed, "I will," from the bolder in my throat. He pried Erik from his chest--unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift." I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. And with Erik in my arms, I ran for the car.

My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, "My God, my God, forgive me." I had just witnessed complete and unconditional love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a follower of Jesus who was blind, holding a child who was not. It was as if God was asking-- "Are you willing to share your son just for a moment?"--when God shared His son for all eternity? The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "The best gift is given out of love.”

Isn’t that the true picture of Christmas tonight? We are that old man; dirty, grimy, hungry, stuck in the truck stop of our daily lives. And Jesus is the baby who giggles at us, waves to us, and when he is close to us, leaps from God’s arms, reaches out to us, and embraces us. We are the ones who hold Jesus for ourselves. That’s when we feel the tears swell up as we close our eyes, gently treasuring this moment as if it’s the gift we’ve always been waiting for. This is the gift that fills our hearts, occupying it to its fullest capacity. This is God’s beautiful gift given to us tonight.

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.

3rd Week Of Advent

The Voice Invites Us
Luke 3:7-18

In a 1959 speech given in Indianapolis, President Kennedy said, “When written in Chinese, the word ‘crisis’ is composed of two characters – one represents danger, and the other represents opportunity.” The tone of John the Baptizer’s words tonight/this morning is one of immediacy. The people of Israel are in crisis even if they aren’t fully aware of it. John’s words have all the signs of danger where judgment is possible. And yet, his words also take on this sense that opportunity has arrived and people are invited to respond to it. Within the urgency and integrity of John’s message was judgment, but in the judgment was opportunity, and opportunity was proclaimed to the people in the word “repent.”

Our gospel text says that John “went into all the country around the Jordan and, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Immediately for some, this was incredibly good news. In repenting, people no longer had to be defined by their past. People no longer had to be captive to their failures, their choices, or their inadequacies. The people could repent. They could move on. They could be given a new slate. They could start over.

“Wouldn’t you be untrusting of a world where repentance wasn’t possible? What if there was no chance to repent and start over? Some might even define hell as being that place. Hell is a place where there is no possibility of repentance. There’s no way out, no chance to get rid of the past, no chance to start again. Hell defines you by your past.” Repent is a word that is loaded with so much potential. “It pays us human beings a sublime compliment, because it says that you and I can do something about the course of life we are on. Animals don’t get that luxury…they live by the instincts demanded of them.” Human beings, you and I, have the ability to make course corrections. If we are on the wrong train of living, we can get off and get on another one that moves in the direction of our integrity and character. If we are headed down a path of self-destruction, we can make a 180 and choose a path that leads to life.

This doesn’t always mean that our past is wiped clean from us even if we do repent. Sometimes our past is needed to remind us where we’ve been. But that past does not have to determine where we are going. “Yes, we may not be able to change what we’ve already done, and we may not be able to fully escape the consequences of those past choices.” But we do not need to be on any sort of destructive path. The path that we are on determines the direction we are going, and when we repent, we change directions because we’ve changed our intention to go somewhere else. We can repent, make a 180, and start the journey over. John’s words call people into this gift of repentance, this very gift of God for those who really want it, for those who really see the potential to a new beginning, for those who see nothing but hope in front of them. “His words might have been sharp and penetrating but he led the people to a door, to an opportunity, to a way out from their sinful lives and accept the gift of God to start over.”

With his words, John attracted all kinds of people. There were those who were honestly seeking this gift of repentance; this opportunity for a new life. And then there were those who were seeking an easy way out. John warns them of superficial repentance saying, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘we have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”

For John, the message is clear. Each generation has to decide for themselves if they are going to be the people of God or not. No generation can assume to ride the coattails of their ethnic heritage in order to receive salvation. God will not be dependent on the physical descent of Israelites in order to accomplish His redemptive work. If that was God’s choice, God could certainly act with sovereign freedom to produce other children to Abraham out of the very lifeless stones in the desert. And because there wasn’t a shortage of stones, God was unlimited to make the numbers He needed to accomplish His redemptive work with or without the people of Israel.

As if it couldn’t be any more disappointing for people seeking an easy superficial way out, John adds that those who believe their actions as individuals bear no consequence on them as an entire people, the ax is already at the foot of the tree. If the people of Israel fail by their actions to produce good fruits of repentance, the ax of God could easily swing, uprooting the entire nation, falling by the judgment of God. If these people are not interested in being the people of God, how is God able to bring redemption to them unless they repent for all the right reasons? How will the people respond?

For any generation who seeks to be the people of God, redemption takes place only when the people own up to their own failures, their own greed, or their own indifference to others. When people have repented of their choices, there is room enough for redemption to enter in. This is the voice of John, preparing a way for the Lord, making straight paths for him, telling people the time has come to repent of the past, to make different choices today, to live a new life, because the Lord is coming and bringing salvation with him.

In being a redeemed people, it is right John says, to practice ethical reform, to show that those fruits of repentance really matter. It is right to show the evidence of a changed repentant heart. It is right to give out of one’s abundance. As Jesus will remind the people, “From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be expected.” It is also right to refrain from exploiting people for personal gain either by overtaxing them or extorting money from them. To carelessly do either one was not living a repentant life.

This was John’s advice. “As incisive as his words were, this advice was practical as he spoke in terms the people could put into practice that very day.” People could decide for themselves that day to make a 180, turn around, and live as changed people, people willing to be the people of God. Or they could stay on the same course of life their on and assume they know better than John, trusting in their own understanding of salvation first.

John’s question set before the people is the same as our question today, will this generation be the people of God? Will this generation seek to go it alone when there is so much that is promised before us? Don’t the people know, that God is coming to be with His people? The prophet Zephaniah is quick to say, “The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in His love; he will exult over you with loud singing as on a day of festival.” For Zephaniah, the future is the same one John calls the people to prepare for: a future where the people of God will be eyewitnesses to God’s salvation.

These people will be redeemed. And when John asks the tough question, “will you people live that redemption,” people are left to decide for themselves if they will receive the one who is more powerful than John, “the one who will baptize all people with the Holy Spirit and fire?” Will they seize the opportunity to be the people of God, witnessing to God’s salvation among them?

Receiving John’s words is an opportunity to change ones outlook. It is to understand that God will restore His people, and the one who comes after John will be the very means for that restoration. As Professor Mark Kolden from Luther seminary says, “Jesus is both the one in whom God saves us and the model of the godly life for us; such salvation will thoroughly change us and it will be good for us and for others. Our lives are to be realigned toward God’s future salvation, right down to our daily work, our possessions, and our behavior. The Holy Spirit and the fire that come with Christ’s baptism are God’s way of changing us. If we hear this only in religious terms, we miss the biblical force of these words: “Spirit” is the same word as “wind,” and in this context perhaps it is more like God’s whirlwind, God’s tornado, which, along with the fire, turns everything upside down and gets rid of all the unessentials. The judgment must come; that is only good news in the sense that after the judgment comes the kingdom. After the threshing and burning of the chaff the wheat is gathered. After repentance comes forgiveness. After crucifixion comes resurrection. There is no other way, this gospel is telling us, than God’s way. And this is good news, for it is into this way that we and all flesh are invited.”

What an amazing opportunity you and I are invited into. “As we listen to the words of the Baptizer standing knee-deep in the cold waters of the Jordan,” there is no better time than now to prepare for the celebration of Jesus coming, to repent of our past and look forward to our future, to celebrate the arrival of God with arms raised high in expectation that the Lord is coming with mercy and grace enough for all of us. This is the time to be the people of God, to seize the opportunity witnessing to God’s salvation among us.

This is the time to be the people of God. This is the time to meet the advent of our Lord’s coming, where we the people of God stand in the waters of baptism rejoicing together and as one people, we say the words of Isaiah together, “Surely God is our salvation; we will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is our strength and our might; He has become our salvation.”

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.


"Since using Blogger/Facebook is impossible to footnote and give credit due, I want make sure that those sermons and people are recognized for giving me inspiration for my own sermon. Even though my original sermon typed out has all the proper footnotes, unfortunately, here it just looks like random quotes. Please feel free to check these sermons/articles as they are well crafted and well worth the read." JMH

"The Divine Opportunity." J. Ellsworth Kallas
"The Birth of Jesus Never Saved Anyone: The Lucan Advent Texts." Professor Mark Kolden
"What Then Shall We Do?" Rev. Dr. William Willimon

Sometimes, We Can See The Stars (Luke 21:25-36)

Right now, I want to run to the manger. I want to kneel at it and see the face of the newborn baby Jesus. I want to feel the warmth of the moment, and be comforted once again this year that my savior has finally been born. While the mall and the big box stores keep reminding me that the commercialism of Christmas has arrived in their slick advertisements and greased up sales pitches meant to relieve my purchasing anxiety, it just makes me want to run that much faster to the manger to see that Jesus has finally come. But I would be disappointed to see how dark it is at that manger.

No one’s there yet. No one’s arrived. There’s no glow or warmth there yet. From here to there, I can’t see the manger. A billion miles of darkness separates me from it, and I want to be led, I want to be shown the way, and I want to be brought into the baby’s presence. But if all I see is darkness, how will I know where to go? How will I know how to get there? This is the first Sunday in Advent. It is a time from here to the manger where you and I are to prepare, reflect, and wait. It’s an important time for each one of us. It’s a time to stand in the darkness and look for light.

At best it’s difficult to see the light when your head is hung in exhaustion and you are desperate to be redeemed. Yet in the gospel reading, Jesus is speaking to people who know full well, in their history as a people, about redemption. These are Exodus people. These are Passover people. These people have a history of being squeezed out of Egypt, Babylon and Rome. To these people, redemption is the aching of their hearts. It’s their dream. It’s their collective cry with their hands stretched out saying, “O God, rescue me. Deliver me. Bend Your ear toward me, O God, and in your righteousness save me.”

Jesus is speaking to people who want to be set free. With his return to earth, merging heaven to it, Christ comes to finalize the kingdom where the righteousness of God will at last fill the earth. In that coming of God’s redemption, when the merging of heaven and earth take place Jesus says to his followers, “stand up, and raise your heads, because your redemption is coming.” When life is coming apart at the seams, your redemption is coming. When life is toppling over and falling down fast, your redemption is coming. When life appears to be without a future, your redemption is coming. The coming of God’s redemption is good news for people whose life is nothing but bad news. Right now, this is good news for we who are standing in the darkness looking for light.

It’s as if Jesus is saying to each one of us today, when things in your world are at their worst and they couldn’t seem like they could get any blacker or heavier, guess who’s coming to be with you? Guess who shows up? God arrives.I love the image in the parable that Jesus tells the disciples, “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves, you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.”

Now, this image might be difficult to envision right now since we are at the beginning of winter and all the leaves have fallen to the ground, but next spring, trees all around us will begin to sprout new leaves, flowers will begin to break out from the ground, grass will begin to grow in all of its color and thickness. The fragrant smells of the trees, flowers, and grass all come alive. It is symbolic of spring that as the change of season comes, so too does new life. New life arrives in all of its color, beauty, and change. When Christ comes to merge heaven and earth, when he comes again, new life will begin in all of its color, beauty, and change. New life will arrive. Redemption is coming. This is the promise of God. The message of Advent is one of promise. God promises that in Jesus Christ, there is a future. There is a future where redemptive new life takes place. God will do this through Christ. For all who trust the promises of God, this news is reason enough to wait.

There’s an ancient Persian saying that reads, “When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” There’s something transcendent and mystical about going outside this time of year at night, and looking up at the heavens, when we see the stars in their brightest and most magnificent light. Yet in order to see the stars most clearly, it has to be the darkest.

I remember driving on a crisp, winter night at the end of December to go see Karen for Christmas. So there I was driving west on this lonely rural highway 17 between Edmore and Adams literally in the middle of nowhere, and I just happened to look to my left. And what I saw made me hit the brakes, pull my car over, and get out to see. There in front of me, across the entire black winter sky were the brightest northern lights I had ever seen in my life. The purples, and blues, and greens were all jumping, and dancing. I stood there silently and took it all in. I must have been there for 20 minutes just staring at this amazing masterpiece of God. To this day, I’ve never seen the northern lights as bright and intense as they were that night.

Jesus reminds us that when our world is at its most blackest, when life is as dark as its going to get, “stand up, and raise your heads, because your redemption is coming.” As we wait, prepare, and reflect on the Advent of God’s coming, we have a lot of darkness to navigate before we reach the manger. It can seem tiring, stressful, or restless. And yet, I am reminded that even in the darkness of my life and yours, there’s only one light that leads us to the manger and it’s the star that hangs above it. It’s a star that leads us through the darkness of our waiting. It leads us through the blackest of days and nights that we face. It leads us by its brightest and most intense light. This light overcomes the darkness of the world, inviting it to raise its hopes, to raise its expectations, to raise its awareness, and to raise its vigilance.

This light leads us through this Advent darkness to see the one who carries out the promises of God on behalf of a world that cries out for liberation. In this Advent darkness, we cannot deny that nations remain torn and fragmented by bombs, tanks, and check mate politics. We cannot deny the devastation of disease, AIDS, and malnutrition on the babies of this world. We cannot deny the selfish disregard for future generations in hijacking natural resources for our own mass consumption here and now. We cannot deny the proliferation of global problems that remain unsolved by humanity’s faults. For the world and its problems, it cannot get any darker. But we also cannot deny that God is faithful to Jesus Christ, that Jesus Christ has a future and that our redemption is entwined with his future; a future that leads us through this darkness by a star.

This light guides the world through its darkness to see whose plans he holds. And once we get to the manger, we’ll know everything will be alright. As sure as the promises of God remain, redemption is coming.

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.

What Does The Future Look Like? (Mark 13:1-8)

So, I gotta be honest, this is one of those gospel texts that makes me cringe simply because at first, it’s difficult to process anything positive out of Jesus words. False messiahs, wars, famine, earthquakes – these are not comforting images we like to live with. But the question Jesus leaves us hanging on as we flesh this out, is “what does the future look like?”

If the future were left for humanity to decide, Jesus predicts humanity fails. It fails as it fights against itself, as it deceives itself, as it claims to be the Messiah, as it starves itself, as its powers will prove to be disappointing. It fails because it wants to play God. I am reminded of the first commandment in which God said to His people, “I am the Lord Your God…you shall have no other gods.”

If humanity plays God and acts as if it determines the future as God would, it fails to put God first and and trust the future to God. Yet this is what the Temple represents. It represents greed and exploitation and as Jesus predicts, God wants nothing to do with it, because God is not put first in the hearts of those who represent Him, even though this impressive structure was intentionally built to be the dwelling place for God on earth among His people. It may have been big and impressive to look at on the outside, but it was ugly, small, and corrosive on the inside.

Is it any wonder that the temple does not stand today? Perhaps it doesn’t stand because it’s death opens up the way for another temple to be resurrected. Jesus himself is that very temple, that indwelling of God where God comes to earth to be with His people as a flesh and blood reminder of His very presence. This is the temple we bring our worship to. This is the very temple we find comfort, rest, love, hope, joy, and relief in. This is the very temple we find life in here and now. We experience the salvation in Christ that is available to us here and now. Christ is our life. Through the cross and resurrection, we are reconciled to God here and now. This is our temple here and now.

But what about the future? What does the future look like? There’s a concept in philosophy and theology known as eschatology. Eschatology is concerned with what are believed to be the final events in the ultimate destiny of humanity or the end of the world as we know it. So many movies and books are written from this lens. In fact, this past Friday, Columbia Pictures released the movie “2012,” depicting the end of civilization through global flooding, earthquakes, and volcanoes. And of course, the question the movie asks is, “what does the future look like? As people of faith, we live in this tension between now and the future. We live in this experience of salvation here and now, yet the fullness of salvation is incomplete. The world is not yet fully redeemed. Sin, evil, suffering, corrupt systems, oppressive powers are still in existence all around us. Yet this tension you and I live in is there for a reason.

Some people are very uncomfortable with this tension, and they want the future now. There are those people for whom the end of the world seems far too attractive and they buy into chronological ordering of events not only in the world, but of the world they make for themselves. They desperately believe that they have the future so cornered, that they relieve their responsibilities from the rest of the world, and concentrate on their own individual survival sometimes with tragic outcomes.

Groups like the Branch Davidians, the Heavens Gate Cult, or the People’s Temple, all ended in tragedy because the future was far more believable, more promising, more relevant than what the here and now could ever offer. What was it that Jesus said? "Beware of those who come in my name and say I am he. They will lead you astray." These charismatic leaders all refused to believe that any good could ever come by fully living with hope here and now. They all wanted to play God and determine the future for themselves.

So what does the future look like? The future is decisively in the hands of God, and as people of faith, we participate in relieving the tension between life and death in the world always remembering what Jesus tells us, “Don’t be scared.” What we know about the past, present, and even the future is that God has come to dwell with us in His very Son, to take up residence among His very people here on earth. We are given the Holy Spirit to continue to extend the body of Christ into the world so that it be connected, so that love overcomes oppression, and hope overcomes despair.

It would be very easy to live in fear of the future, to be paralyzed by it, to protect ourselves from it simply because we see the present and we don’t like where it’s headed. We would essentially live in despair. Why bother to live if what we see around us is not comforting or painless? Yet to live this way is to avoid the needs of others and that’s not why Jesus lives among us. He lives among us, as His body is extended into the world, to bring sustainable hope into the world.

It is reminiscent of the ancient Greek myth of Pandora. She was tempted to open the jar she was told not to open. In doing so, she released all evil, sadness, and pain into the world, but she managed to close it right before hopelessness was released. And that is one thing, the Greeks believed that all humans could be sustained with. Humans were left with nothing but hope.

As I mentioned in this past month’s church newsletter, I recently went to an all day seminar at St. Mary’s Hospital, and it was called, “cultivating hope during difficult times.” That day was an amazing opportunity for me to listen to people who have overcome the most paralyzing odds against them through the sustaining power of hope. Over and over again, I kept hearing the same thing: hope is a decision, hope is a choice. The statement that really tugged at my heart was “hope is an act of defiance when the odds are against you.” When we defy something, we no longer believe it has power over us. We take a defiant stand against it. We believe that our stand against the odds is a manifestation of the hope inside of us, rather than to allow the power of the odds define us from the outside. If we set this understanding of hope against the backdrop of the gospel text for tonight/this morning, we are offered a much different picture than one grounded in fear and despair.

Our hope is sustained by the breaking of Jesus Christ into our world, where God holds its very future in His hands. In the present and in the future, we have nothing to fear, because hope is where our faith exists now. Our existing faith is sustained by the one who saves the world from itself, even when the world fails to acknowledge just how broken it continues to become. This is why the global temples of greed, oppression, war, self-interest, cannot stand tall. The body of Christ sustained by faith together, his church, is a force of change, dismantling those temples and leaving the rubble where it falls as a reminder that these global temples of self-importance are temporal and powerless while the true temple of our worship is eternal and empowering.

Without this hope we have together, that not only sustains us but sends us out into the global temples to speak and act on behalf of those the temples oppress, we might as well pack our bags, build the necessary walls of separation, and hunker down, and wait for the end of the world to come. Because it is so much easier to turn a blind eye out of hopelessness than look directly into the evils of the world and know their place among us is intolerable and unacceptable. This is why the temple of hope, Jesus Christ is among us. It is he who gives life and shines light into the very dark spaces of neglect.

Yes, the future is decisively in the hands of God, but we do not neglect the present, riding it out and sidestepping the opportunities to share Christ with the world he’s come into, even when we share Christ among the temples of the world whose time to come down will eventually come. There can be only one God worshipped, and that’s the God of life. And we bring our worship to His very Son; our sanctuary, our savior, our Temple. All other temples have no future.

We know the future does not belong to us, and so we worship the only God who holds it, who comes among us to deliver hope in the face of fear and uncertainty. He is the savior of the world, who reassures that this world is in good hands.

So, what does the future look like? It looks like a kingdom where God reigns and the fullness of salvation is complete. The future finally arrives.

My friends, peace always be with you. Amen.

Hope Is An Act Of Defiance

Recently, I attended a pastoral care conference at St. Mary’s Hospital. It was well worth my time as I spent the day learning about the very real potential and possibilities “hope” offers to us, especially when life is difficult, painful, or challenged. I heard some amazing stories of how life was challenged by disease, a complicated pregnancy, and the untimely death of newborns and how the very people who shared these stories, were able to navigate through those moments holding out hope. Yet, as I heard and maybe as you have experienced, hope does not always come when we most need it. It does not always come so easily for some as it might for others. Hope at times, seems like the last offering of comfort ever possible when someone is entrenched in the despair of the situation. But, as I have experienced, and what I heard again and again from people who have lived through these traumatic experiences, is that hope is a choice. It is not something that is out of reach, or something to be earned, or removed from the human will at all. To live with hope, is to make the choice, choosing to believe that life will improve whether the evidence proves it will or not.

Dr. Jerome Groopman wrote a book titled, The Anatomy of Hope: How People Prevail In The Face of Illness. A fascinating book, Groopman attempts to provide insight into the power, or perceived power, of making choices for oneself, even choosing to avoid medical treatment within the context of potential despair and grim medical consequences. Rather, he attempts to articulate what it means for people to celebrate the healing power of hope despite the overwhelming odds against them to do so. He says, “To hope under the most extreme circumstances is an act of defiance that permits a person to live his/her life on his/her terms.” An act of defiance! It’s been my experience that people feel powerless when their lives are traumatized medically or psychologically. People feel as if all strength within them escapes, they become overwhelmed unable to pan the lens back and see the wide angle of their circumstance. They feel disempowered to make constructive and motivational decisions because all they see is the problem, the issue, the event. While counseling people, I see this played out over and over again as if there is a paralyzing default that exists. Not everyone is like this. There are those who are reactionary and become pro-active, thinking through the situation for options and possibilities. Conversely, there are those for whom they live in the trauma; the blinders prevent them from seeing any way out of their emotional and spiritual despair. The default exists from person to person, circumstance to circumstance. And yet, what I find most disarming with each person is the ability to articulate hope, sometimes for them, sometimes with them.

But this articulated hope is not just any random bit and piece of pop-psychology. No, this hope is something else. This hope is grounded in the incarnated God, who is not removed from pain, or trauma. The walking God is grounded with us, feeling what we feel. His body shares the burdens of life together for each other’s sake of life, because as Christ taught each of us, each person’s life matters and matters to God. What this says about God, is that God is not beyond our reach, or seated somewhere else to watch us as a passive observer. Let’s not forget: God knows a thing or two about experiencing the trauma of losing His son. He knows what it feels like when life becomes darkened by the unexpected. He knows what life feels like when there is no other choice but to believe hope is possible out of death, out of disease, out of abuse, out of addiction, or out of shame. And as God, you cannot know these things unless you are with your people on the ground where life is lived out.

This is the hope that grounds me, and this is the hope that I hold out for people who feel life is hopeless, when life nosedives, when life is challenged by the unexpected. This is the incarnate hope which gives us life, when we feel as if we are left for dead. This incarnate hope of Jesus Christ, the walking God among us, is defiant in a world where the easy thing to do is just give up and be swallowed up by suffering. Yet Jesus comes alongside of us in whatever state of mind we are in, sits with us, listens to us, and reminds that life is full of hope when God is present. Hope is a choice to believe that the presence of God is an act of defiance to be present in the darkest of hells we visit. Hope is knowing that Jesus lives outside the tomb from where death is defeated, so that we too can be resurrected from our own tombs. Tombs do not define us. Outside our tombs, hope is where we live, full of choices and possibilities so that life is defined by what we make of it. It is worth it as it is beautiful. It is beautiful as it is a gift. May you choose to be defiant against the odds. Peace be with you.