This morning as the light broke into the world, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. As the light crested the edge of the world, it spilled through the trees, glimmering through the ice, spreading its light in a bright glow, making the trees look like God had just then created them, their life force beaming for all to see. It looked just as one imagines the tree of life did just on the verge of creation; beaming a light that touches all the world with God’s goodness.
I wish I had thought to grab a camera to show you. But, I was captivated, as I always am, when God paints the world with joy. I wish that you had been there to see it with me. Though, standing next to me, in my bathroom, staring out the window, probably would have been strange.
I wish I were a poet so that I could share it better; using eloquent words to effectively put you right there in the moment. But, I have done what I can. I have simply pointed to something beautiful and wonderful, and I hope that God will give you the chance to experience the same joy and awe. I cannot do any more than that. I cannot recreate it for you. I am not the light. I can only point to the light. I cannot do any more.
None of us can do any more. Not even John. People are flocking to this man John, out in the wilderness to experience something great and refreshing and new in their faith. They have been told that it is worth the journey. Out there, you will find great joy, peace, and hope. And so, the religious leaders send people to investigate.
“Who are you John. Are you saying you are the Messiah? Are you saying you are great? Who are you?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint," John says. "I know you have traveled a long way on foot, but I will share the same thing I share with everyone. I’m not the Messiah. I’m not Elijah. I’m not a prophet. I’m nothing at all. All I can do is this.”
And at that, he sticks out his finger and he points. He just stands there and points. He is a man, in the middle of the desert, sand swirling around him, pointing. To this day, that is all that John does. Look at any painting of him in any art gallery. He just stands there and points. Even as a baby, who cannot even lift his own head, cradled in the arms of Elizabeth, he lays limp, pointing at the baby Jesus next to him. That’s all we can do also. And, I find comfort in that.
As Christmas approaches, I find the pressure to create the best Christmas for those I love mounting. “This year, I will buy the present that will bring tears to her eyes." "I will discover the gifts that will bring joy that last for days to the little ones." "This year, I will create the dinner that all will remember; a time of laughter and healing for those who have been battered through the year." "This year, I will make all things great.”
I find it comforting to see a man in the middle of the desert pointing, and nothing more. He cannot save people from their hurts. He cannot bring joy that will heal all wounds. He can only do one thing, point to the one who can.
I cannot bring you the light of the world this morning. I cannot gather and carry its rays or devise some way or some contraption that will create its life giving light. I can only point.
Like all other years, we will not be able to heal any wounds. Aunt Anna will still hate Uncle Bill and she will let him know it at the Christmas dinner table as she always does by “accidentally” spilling gravy on him once again this year, and it will once again squash the little joy that a holiday ham can create. We cannot stop that. We cannot heal them. But, we know who can. And we can point to him, laying in the manger under the tree.
We cannot comfort Grandma as she once again misses not having her only love there to give her a gift and share a place by the warm fire. For her, it will be another cold time of year. We cannot stop that. We cannot take his place. We cannot give her the light that will warm her heart. But, we can point to the one who can. We can point to the lights on the tree and remind her of the light of the world; the light that is able to warm hearts and make life new.
Christmas itself is unable to bring light and peace to the world. Christmas comes every year. And every year, war and hate still continues. But, it is not celebrated for no reason. It points. It stands in the middle of our dark and deserted, wind blown lives and points to the one who will make it new.
None of us are worthy to untie the sandals of Christ, the light of the world. And, it is best if we do not even try. But, we can point. We can point when we see the light cresting the edge of the world and spilling its light on all. We can point when God’s love comes into our world. We can point, preparing the way, so that when love spills on the world, all are awake to see it glimmering on our skin, piercing our hearts, and warming our souls. Like John, we can point to Christ.
All Scripture quotes are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyrighted, 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and is used by permission. All rights reserved.
I wish I had thought to grab a camera to show you. But, I was captivated, as I always am, when God paints the world with joy. I wish that you had been there to see it with me. Though, standing next to me, in my bathroom, staring out the window, probably would have been strange.
I wish I were a poet so that I could share it better; using eloquent words to effectively put you right there in the moment. But, I have done what I can. I have simply pointed to something beautiful and wonderful, and I hope that God will give you the chance to experience the same joy and awe. I cannot do any more than that. I cannot recreate it for you. I am not the light. I can only point to the light. I cannot do any more.
None of us can do any more. Not even John. People are flocking to this man John, out in the wilderness to experience something great and refreshing and new in their faith. They have been told that it is worth the journey. Out there, you will find great joy, peace, and hope. And so, the religious leaders send people to investigate.
“Who are you John. Are you saying you are the Messiah? Are you saying you are great? Who are you?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint," John says. "I know you have traveled a long way on foot, but I will share the same thing I share with everyone. I’m not the Messiah. I’m not Elijah. I’m not a prophet. I’m nothing at all. All I can do is this.”
And at that, he sticks out his finger and he points. He just stands there and points. He is a man, in the middle of the desert, sand swirling around him, pointing. To this day, that is all that John does. Look at any painting of him in any art gallery. He just stands there and points. Even as a baby, who cannot even lift his own head, cradled in the arms of Elizabeth, he lays limp, pointing at the baby Jesus next to him. That’s all we can do also. And, I find comfort in that.
As Christmas approaches, I find the pressure to create the best Christmas for those I love mounting. “This year, I will buy the present that will bring tears to her eyes." "I will discover the gifts that will bring joy that last for days to the little ones." "This year, I will create the dinner that all will remember; a time of laughter and healing for those who have been battered through the year." "This year, I will make all things great.”
I find it comforting to see a man in the middle of the desert pointing, and nothing more. He cannot save people from their hurts. He cannot bring joy that will heal all wounds. He can only do one thing, point to the one who can.
I cannot bring you the light of the world this morning. I cannot gather and carry its rays or devise some way or some contraption that will create its life giving light. I can only point.
Like all other years, we will not be able to heal any wounds. Aunt Anna will still hate Uncle Bill and she will let him know it at the Christmas dinner table as she always does by “accidentally” spilling gravy on him once again this year, and it will once again squash the little joy that a holiday ham can create. We cannot stop that. We cannot heal them. But, we know who can. And we can point to him, laying in the manger under the tree.
We cannot comfort Grandma as she once again misses not having her only love there to give her a gift and share a place by the warm fire. For her, it will be another cold time of year. We cannot stop that. We cannot take his place. We cannot give her the light that will warm her heart. But, we can point to the one who can. We can point to the lights on the tree and remind her of the light of the world; the light that is able to warm hearts and make life new.
Christmas itself is unable to bring light and peace to the world. Christmas comes every year. And every year, war and hate still continues. But, it is not celebrated for no reason. It points. It stands in the middle of our dark and deserted, wind blown lives and points to the one who will make it new.
None of us are worthy to untie the sandals of Christ, the light of the world. And, it is best if we do not even try. But, we can point. We can point when we see the light cresting the edge of the world and spilling its light on all. We can point when God’s love comes into our world. We can point, preparing the way, so that when love spills on the world, all are awake to see it glimmering on our skin, piercing our hearts, and warming our souls. Like John, we can point to Christ.
All Scripture quotes are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyrighted, 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A., and is used by permission. All rights reserved.
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