Think back to the beginning…the beginning of all beginnings. “In the beginning, God created…” that is the beginning I mean. I mean the one at the start of the Bible. In that beginning, the Spirit of God hovers over the waters of chaotic nothingness.
Have you even taken just a brief moment and considered the loneliness of that image? In the beginning, there was nothing, other than the Spirit of God.
It is an image that draws me to imagine a lonely boat on an unending expanse of sea. There is no one else close by. There is not even anyone else beyond the horizon. It is just one boat floating, alone.
It is not insignificant that God creates the universe to fill this void of nothingness. God is not a God of loneliness. No one should be alone.
Suddenly, there was light and dark, seas and land, plants and animals, a person and then a companion. Suddenly, the universe went from a place of loneliness to a place filled with life and relationship. Creation is the medicine for loneliness.
What Jesus does at the beginning of his ministry is no different. The preacher out in the wilderness, John the Baptist, is arrested, and there is a void in the kingdom of God. That void is quickly filled by Jesus. And, one of Jesus' first acts in the kingdom of God is to draw people near.
“Hey you!” he cries out to Simon and Andrew who are casting a net out into the sea. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” They follow. He does the same a little further down the shore, calling out to James and John. Like Simon and Andrew, they drop their nets and follow.
Suddenly, Jesus who was walking by the waters alone, has created out of nothing: a church. Suddenly, the kingdom of God went from being a lonely place to a kingdom that has quadrupled in size. Jesus is not a savior who enjoys loneliness. No one should be alone.
And, we are not alone. On a dark night of the soul, a dark, sleepless night during college where the weight of the world’s problems and the doubtfulness of the spirit were working, like a demon, to possess all my thoughts and take control of my life, I resolved to wander across the campus in the morning to the office of a trusted professor.
In the cold morning air, the chaotic clouds of breath that swilled around my head conveyed the chaotic thoughts and fears held within.
As soon as I walked up and stood in his office door, my professor took one look at me, put down his coffee and said, “We need to talk don’t we?” And, with that, he clicked his laptop closed and turned his full attention my way. He offered his ear and his heart. It was enough. God is not a God of loneliness. No one should be alone.
When we consider our kingdom task of fishing for people, too often we think about it in terms of numbers. Unintentionally, we often think about God like an accountant who keeps a running tally of followers until there is a final amount sufficient to declare profitability.
“Fish for people.” “Bring more people into the church.” “Grow your church.” “Grow the kingdom.” “Evangelize.” “Get out there and knock on doors”…and the like.
Though God does care about every lost and wandering soul out there, God in no way sees us as a number in the church’s tally of saved souls.
Instead, God cares about each one of us being connected…being together.
A woman who has been suffering alone from bleeding for years and years, will soon touch his cloak and be rewarded for her faith. She will gain a savior. She will gain a family. Jesus is not a savior who enjoys loneliness. No one should be alone.
A man who has been rendered alone in his blindness will soon call out to Jesus, believing that Jesus can save. Jesus will heal the man’s sight and Bartimaeus will immediately become a follower. He is no longer alone. Jesus is not a savior who enjoys loneliness. No one should be alone.
That is the good news of the kingdom of God this day. The kingdom is not about "me," it is about "us." It is about community.
The kingdom is not a place that emphasizes individual belief and individual salvation. It is not a place that understands the “me and my faith” sort of Christian talk that we Christians throw around from time to time. The kingdom is not as lonely as that.
The call to fish for people is much bigger. Ancient people did not use fishing poles in order to draw individual fish into the boat one by one. Instead, they used nets that, when cast into the air rightly, would spread out into a huge sheet of webbing that could draw a whole school of fish into the boat or onto the shore. That is what the kingdom of God is like. It is like gathering a whole school of fish together so that it can swim for the Lord.
It is like choosing a bunch of people in order to create a rocking soccer team for the Lord.
It is like gathering the entire crowd at the wedding to dance together the Macarena. Is that example too 1990ish? No matter, you get my point.
The kingdom is a place where all people are called and gathered so that they do not need to go through this thing called life alone. The kingdom is a place where all are drawn through faith to find belonging. It is a new creation. It is a new family. It is a place of Holy Relationship. It is the realm of God where no one is alone. God is not a God of loneliness. No one should be alone.
There once was a man, true story, who lost his young son to the heat of a van in the middle of the summer. Somehow, the son had wandered out into the van during nap time, closed the door, and overheated. The man was distraught. He questioned why. He questioned where God was at that moment. He questioned life in general.
In other words, he felt alone. He felt alone without his son. He felt alone in his grief. He felt alone, like no one actually understood; not even God. He was alone.
Not knowing how to cope, the man reached out to a pastor, shared his story, shared his loneliness, and shared most of all that he felt like God did not care, was not listening, or simply did not understand his situation.
The pastor quietly heard the man’s pain and then shared one simple thought with the distraught man:
“One day, God lost his son too.”
The man was not alone after-all. God is not a God of loneliness. No one should be alone.
We are a people who have been given a holy task; to fish for people. But it is not about the numbers or the size of your church. Rather, it is about the family of God. It is about the holy connections that we make with the people that we gather into this place. It is about walking together in faith. It is about reaching out to a world of loneliness that is alone despite being connected constantly through our smart-phones.
We are a people who have been given the task of exorcism of loneliness. After-all, God is not a God of loneliness. No one should be alone.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Reflection on 1 Samuel 3:1-20 and John 1:43-51
Had little Samuel lived in my house, I am quite certain that God’s call would have gone somewhat differently. It would have started the same.
“Samuel” God would call out.
Samuel would come out of the bedroom and similar to Eli I would say, “Go back to bed.”
Here is where the story would start to part ways. The second time that God calls and Samuel comes out of the bedroom, I am sure my second response would sound less like Eli’s calm “lie down again,” and sound more like, “I thought I told you to go lay down! Now, go get in your bed, 1, 2, if you are not in your bed by three I swear…”
And, the third time Samuel comes out of his room, I am certain that a heavenly visitor showing up in his bedroom would not even cross my mind.
Rather, words that sounds a little bit like this would fly from my mouth: “For the love of…what the heck are you doing up again…I thought I told you to go to bed! Now, you can go to a time-out. No, don’t say anything to me, we don’t speak during our time out, I don’t care what you heard. Now, be quiet and sit in your time out!”
Needless to say, God’s message would have been completely ignored had this all occurred in my house. But, that does cause me to wonder, maybe God’s message has been ignored in my house from time to time.
My children certainly are not sleeping in the Holy of Holies as Samuel was, next to the arc of the covenant, where God might rightly be expected to show up some night. Samuel is in God’s bedroom in the temple. God should be expected to pop by every once and a while.
But, does that not make it even harder for me? Do I even expect that God is going show up in my children’s bedroom, speak to them, and direct them in their paths? Or, am I distracted so much by the day to day chaos of raising children that all the divine stuff might completely go over my head.
It is quite possible, or even likely, that I will miss my opportunity to guide my children back to bed and tell them, as Eli did, to listen carefully to what God is saying. Do I expect God to call out to them? Do I even expect God to call out to me? How about you?
What if one of your friends were to come up to you and tell you that he has found the savior of the world.
“He’s from Nazareth. Come with me and talk to him,” the friend says.
I wonder if we would be open to it? I would probably just respond sarcastically the way that Nathaniel does, “Can anything good come out of a junk hole like Nazareth?” and start researching mental health facilities for my friend.
And, that likely reaction leads me to wonder if we carry too much baggage? And, yes, I mean baggage in the most negative of senses.
Have you ever seen those amazing women from Africa who carry those huge loads on their heads and shoulders for miles. Well, sometimes I wonder if we are like them, only not in an amazing and helpful way, but in a detrimental way.
I wonder if we sometimes carry too many preconceived notions about other people, carry too much pain, carry too many unfulfilled dreams from the past, carry too much daily distraction, too much uncertainly, too much grief, too much school, too much work, too much of whatever is on our minds that it blocks our view of God and plugs our ears to God’s words.
When I allow myself the time to daydream, do you know what I think might sometimes be nice? Just starting over…having a fresh start in certain areas of my life. Would that not be nice?
Have you ever dreamed of dropping everything, dumping all of your baggage, and just starting over? On some days, would that not be amazing?
Only this time, you would dump everything that stresses you for a purpose. You would dump all your baggage so that you could better see and hear and follow Jesus like those first disciples.
Do you want to know who just dropped their baggage in an amazing way? Eli. After-all, he actually entertains the notion that Samuel has something important to say when he gets out of bed that third time.
Even more than that, when Eli hears the message that God tells Samuel, mainly that Eli’s family’s time of running the temple is over because of their sin, Eli responds, “Let it be as God sees fit.”
What? No fits of rage? No sending Samuel to his room? I am pretty sure that my child telling me that I deserve to suffer destruction would not go over well in my home.
But, Eli takes it all in stride.
Now, that is a guy without baggage. That is a guy who is open to whatever and wherever God is leading. That is a guy who has been found by God, and is secure in his relationship with the divine.
Jesus echoes the same sentiment in the garden of Gethsemane as he prays to have his cup of devastation taken away from him. Jesus follows his prayer of distress with, “yet, not as I will, but as you will.” Those are the words of someone who has dropped their baggage and allowed God to speak and to lead.
But, that sort of freedom of the soul does not just come out of nowhere. It just is not possible to simply let the baggage of your life, all that you have learned and clung to for security, fall to the ground if you have not first been given the security that comes with being seen by God.
Being seen. When Nathaniel spouts off his sarcastic Nazareth comment Jesus’ first response is not to rebuke Nathaniel, but rather to see him. Jesus sees Nathaniel for who he is. Jesus values Nathaniel enough to pay attention to him. And, Jesus promises that Nathaniel will see far greater things. Nathaniel is seen, and it makes all the difference.
Only when he is truly seen by God does he trust he is a child of God. Only then can he drop his baggage, and follow, and then be. When he is seen, he can finally be the child of God he was created to be. When he is seen, he is free from the distractions.
Nathaniel is seen by Jesus, and so are you.
The good news is that we are not stuck with our baggage. The good news is that we can be more than our distracted selves. The good news is that God is not done with us and never gives up calling to us, and inviting us to be God’s children.
You are seen, you are free, and you can now be.
Be what God has called you to be. Be the person that the world needs. Be the person that your family and friends need! Be the beloved child of God who is not distracted, but does in fact hear the voice of God calling in the night.
Be the child of God who says “Here I am Lord.”
“Samuel” God would call out.
Samuel would come out of the bedroom and similar to Eli I would say, “Go back to bed.”
Here is where the story would start to part ways. The second time that God calls and Samuel comes out of the bedroom, I am sure my second response would sound less like Eli’s calm “lie down again,” and sound more like, “I thought I told you to go lay down! Now, go get in your bed, 1, 2, if you are not in your bed by three I swear…”
And, the third time Samuel comes out of his room, I am certain that a heavenly visitor showing up in his bedroom would not even cross my mind.
Rather, words that sounds a little bit like this would fly from my mouth: “For the love of…what the heck are you doing up again…I thought I told you to go to bed! Now, you can go to a time-out. No, don’t say anything to me, we don’t speak during our time out, I don’t care what you heard. Now, be quiet and sit in your time out!”
Needless to say, God’s message would have been completely ignored had this all occurred in my house. But, that does cause me to wonder, maybe God’s message has been ignored in my house from time to time.
My children certainly are not sleeping in the Holy of Holies as Samuel was, next to the arc of the covenant, where God might rightly be expected to show up some night. Samuel is in God’s bedroom in the temple. God should be expected to pop by every once and a while.
But, does that not make it even harder for me? Do I even expect that God is going show up in my children’s bedroom, speak to them, and direct them in their paths? Or, am I distracted so much by the day to day chaos of raising children that all the divine stuff might completely go over my head.
It is quite possible, or even likely, that I will miss my opportunity to guide my children back to bed and tell them, as Eli did, to listen carefully to what God is saying. Do I expect God to call out to them? Do I even expect God to call out to me? How about you?
What if one of your friends were to come up to you and tell you that he has found the savior of the world.
“He’s from Nazareth. Come with me and talk to him,” the friend says.
I wonder if we would be open to it? I would probably just respond sarcastically the way that Nathaniel does, “Can anything good come out of a junk hole like Nazareth?” and start researching mental health facilities for my friend.
And, that likely reaction leads me to wonder if we carry too much baggage? And, yes, I mean baggage in the most negative of senses.
Have you ever seen those amazing women from Africa who carry those huge loads on their heads and shoulders for miles. Well, sometimes I wonder if we are like them, only not in an amazing and helpful way, but in a detrimental way.
I wonder if we sometimes carry too many preconceived notions about other people, carry too much pain, carry too many unfulfilled dreams from the past, carry too much daily distraction, too much uncertainly, too much grief, too much school, too much work, too much of whatever is on our minds that it blocks our view of God and plugs our ears to God’s words.
When I allow myself the time to daydream, do you know what I think might sometimes be nice? Just starting over…having a fresh start in certain areas of my life. Would that not be nice?
Have you ever dreamed of dropping everything, dumping all of your baggage, and just starting over? On some days, would that not be amazing?
Only this time, you would dump everything that stresses you for a purpose. You would dump all your baggage so that you could better see and hear and follow Jesus like those first disciples.
Do you want to know who just dropped their baggage in an amazing way? Eli. After-all, he actually entertains the notion that Samuel has something important to say when he gets out of bed that third time.
Even more than that, when Eli hears the message that God tells Samuel, mainly that Eli’s family’s time of running the temple is over because of their sin, Eli responds, “Let it be as God sees fit.”
What? No fits of rage? No sending Samuel to his room? I am pretty sure that my child telling me that I deserve to suffer destruction would not go over well in my home.
But, Eli takes it all in stride.
Now, that is a guy without baggage. That is a guy who is open to whatever and wherever God is leading. That is a guy who has been found by God, and is secure in his relationship with the divine.
Jesus echoes the same sentiment in the garden of Gethsemane as he prays to have his cup of devastation taken away from him. Jesus follows his prayer of distress with, “yet, not as I will, but as you will.” Those are the words of someone who has dropped their baggage and allowed God to speak and to lead.
But, that sort of freedom of the soul does not just come out of nowhere. It just is not possible to simply let the baggage of your life, all that you have learned and clung to for security, fall to the ground if you have not first been given the security that comes with being seen by God.
Being seen. When Nathaniel spouts off his sarcastic Nazareth comment Jesus’ first response is not to rebuke Nathaniel, but rather to see him. Jesus sees Nathaniel for who he is. Jesus values Nathaniel enough to pay attention to him. And, Jesus promises that Nathaniel will see far greater things. Nathaniel is seen, and it makes all the difference.
Only when he is truly seen by God does he trust he is a child of God. Only then can he drop his baggage, and follow, and then be. When he is seen, he can finally be the child of God he was created to be. When he is seen, he is free from the distractions.
Nathaniel is seen by Jesus, and so are you.
The good news is that we are not stuck with our baggage. The good news is that we can be more than our distracted selves. The good news is that God is not done with us and never gives up calling to us, and inviting us to be God’s children.
You are seen, you are free, and you can now be.
Be what God has called you to be. Be the person that the world needs. Be the person that your family and friends need! Be the beloved child of God who is not distracted, but does in fact hear the voice of God calling in the night.
Be the child of God who says “Here I am Lord.”
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Reflection on Matthew 2:1-12
When you look at the three kings
making their way to the Christ child, crowns of gold and gems on their heads
and rich gifts in their hands, it is easy to assume that their lives are full
and rich.
Following a divine star to their
destination, it is easy to assume that the kings are special, with a divine
appointment for this royal task of delivering gifts to the savior of the world.
But, if you would take the time to
look closely, underneath the distracting shine of the crowns, you would see a
different truth. If you looked closely at their faces, you would see the dark
circles under their eyes and the struggles of life in the creases of their
wrinkled foreheads.
You see, the moment the first king
was summoned by the star to travel to Bethlehem, he was sitting all alone in
his castle. The light of the star fell upon him as he sat eating alone.
Most days he ate alone, slept alone,
and kept his own company. Even his kingdom rarely appealed to him for guidance.
He was a lonely king, surrounded by the cold company of his gold.
As he gathered his things to travel
to the newborn king, he took some of the gold as a gift in one hand, and
carried his loneliness in the other.
Miles away from the first king was
the second king who also held a secret underneath the gleaming riches of his
crown. The secret had something to do with that crown that shined upon his
head. For, when the star shown on him, directing him to travel to see the
newborn king, his brow furrowed in worry about the cost of such an expedition.
You see, the truth was that the king
had almost no riches, aside from that gilded crown on his head. He was as poor
as his people, but he was expected to represent the nation as a rich and
powerful leader. How many times had he given up his own dinner completely in
order to impress a royal guest?
Giving up the valuable frankincense
that was once gifted to him, and giving it to the newborn king was both an
honor and a terrible sacrifice. He
gathered together some pride and left.
Still, many miles further was the
third king. His kingdom flourished, and he was beloved by his people. All was
well. Except that when the star shown on him to lead him to the Christ child,
he did not see it. He did not see anything for that matter. He was blind. It
was a servant who told the blind king that the star had appeared and summoned
him.
How long had it been since the king
had seen the faces of his family? How long had it been since he could see his
brothers? “Too many years to count,” the king thought to himself. He did not
even know where his family was any longer.
Grabbing some myrrh as a gift for
the newborn king, and with help from an assistant, he mounted his camel with
sadness in his heart and blindness in his eyes.
Now you know the truth of the king's lives. Now you know
not to be distracted by the crowns of gold and gems on these foreign king's
heads, or the rich gifts in their hands as they arrive and make their way
through the door to honor the new king.
The first king bows bearing a gift
of gold and loneliness. The second king arrives next to the first, bowing and
bearing a gift of frankincense and poverty. The third king is helped to his
position by the servant, and he bears his gift in the wrong direction, his
blindness no secret to anyone in the room.
The child king coos at the sight,
and is briefly distracted by the gleam of the gems on the walls. But, soon the
child toddles over to the first king, pushes the gold aside and gives the
lonely man a hug. It is his first hug in years. The king’s heart melts, and for
the first time in years the king feels a strange and beautiful sense of joy,
and belonging.
Soon, the child takes the bag of
gold, pulls and scoots the bag the short distance to the second king and says,
“You take, you take.”
The other two kings assume it is the
crazy antics of a small child, but the second king knows better. It is a gift for him. The child knows him.
The child takes the frankincense and
sets it next to the bag of gold. “Yours,” he giggles. Then the child’s smile
fades as he looks straight into the king’s eyes and says “For you.” Never had
the king been given such a gift.
Wandering off toward the third of
his kingly visitors, the child relieves the king’s tiring arms of the dangling
myrrh and pushes it toward the second king.
The third king soon feels the Christ
child playing with his face; first his lips, then his cheeks, then his nose,
and finally the child playfully, and gently, tugs at his eye lids.
Opening one eye lid, the child
whispers, “peekaboo,” and the blind king sees the child’s lips say the words.
The king sees the child’s lips!
The king can see!
For the first time in years, the
king can see!
They had each traveled to bear gifts
to the child king, but what they had never expected was that they would be the
ones to receive a gift. And, they certainly had never expected the last gift
the child had in store.
The small child whispered to the
once blind man, “Brothers” and pointed to the other two kings. The now seeing
king focused his new eyes on the other two men, searching beyond the gleam of
their crowns and beyond their dark circled eyes and wrinkles.
Seeing clearly, he recognized two
faces that he remembered from his youth. Almost simultaneously, the first king’s lonely
eyes focused on the other two men in recognition.
The child’s last gift was the gift
of brothers being drawn together.
The Christ Child had brought them
all together once again. And, as they rejoiced, the star above their heads
shone brighter and gave light to the world.
This story is most rightly
considered a legend of course.
Anyone who has studied their bibles
knows that the men who visited the Christ child were not kings, but were magi,
or men of wisdom. They were probably astrologers.
They also would note that the bible
does not say how many of them visited. There may have been three, there may
have been fifty three. The bible
certainly does not say anything about any ailments each one had, nor does it
report of any healing that occurred because of the Christ child. As I said, the
story is best considered a legend.
But, that does not mean there is no truth
in the story.
Who we know Jesus to be is the same
one presented in the legend. He is the
one who welcomes the foreigner.
He is the one who gives the blind their sight. He is the one who gives good news to the
poor, and he is the one who draws together those who have drifted apart.
Wherever the blind (whether
physically or spiritually blind) are given sight, Jesus is there.
Wherever lonely people who have been
distanced from others are restored back to community, Jesus is there.
Wherever the poor are made whole and
made to feel equal with all others, Jesus is there.
Wherever the stranger is welcomed
rather than ignored or cast away, Jesus is there.
The story you just heard may be a
legend, but it is full of the truth of Jesus. It tells the truth, that we do
not bear gifts to Jesus, rather Jesus is our gift and Jesus bears gifts to us.
If the powers of the world ever threaten
and force you to retreat, holding Christ safe in your heart in the same way Joseph retreated to Egypt to keep Jesus safe from Herod, do not stay hidden
away in Egypt for long. Return and share
in the work of Jesus’ kingdom.
As you
follow in his path, your work might look something like teaching someone a
trade (the blind see), supporting the recovery of amputee soldier (the lame
will walk), opening the heart of someone who is closed off by hate, (the deaf
hear), sitting with those who have lost everything (the dead are raised), and
giving a job to a single mom (the poor have good news brought to them).
All of those things are signs of the
kingdom of God. And, in all those things and more, Jesus is there.
Jesus is there.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Reflection on Luke 2:22-40
There is one phrase in this entire continuing story of Jesus’ birth and childhood that says everything: "a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons."
When Jesus is presented at the temple, his parents offer a sacrifice of two turtledoves or two young pigeons as his offering to the Lord. This offering gives us a fuller picture of faith as we move from the holidays.
I will tell you what I mean.
You see, the holidays are supposed to be full of cheer and joy. They are supposed to be times of abundance, giving, and gratitude. In our society, the holidays are expected to be a big, positive, celebration with family and friends.
When they are not, then we go away disappointed and depressed.
But, this continuing Christmas story that Luke tells puts it all into perspective for us. Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, gave two turtledoves or two young pigeons as his offering to the Lord. In other words, they were poor.
They were not rich enough to give a goat or another great offering. They had to use the welfare-like prescription in the ancient law that allowed them to use a more humble animal for sacrifice.
The first Christmas was not one of abundance, but one of a birth in a small animal shed and a paltry sacrifice. Jesus was not born into perfection, he was born into reality.
And, reality is full of both. Reality is full of both angelic chorus and scraping by just to get your next meal. It is full of dancing and singing with children and loneliness in the hospital bed. It is full of accomplishments and days of failure. Jesus, God with us, was born into our reality. He was not born into our imaginings of perfection.
Even the baby Jesus himself gets a dose of reality in this scene at the temple. As his poor family walks around the temple, they are shocked by the righteous man, Simeon, who grabs Jesus and pronounces with joy that he had finally, in his old age, seen the salvation of the Lord. Jesus, a member of this poor family, is honored with the highest distinction possible for a young boy in ancient Israel, Messiah, and blessed for the life that will come.
Simeon also blesses Jesus’ parents, but gives Mary the oddest sort of blessing. He says, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too."
Reality.
Jesus life is destined for greatness, but swords will also pierce.
Reality. This life is not only about the blessings and joy that come out of nowhere, like the day early on in our marriage that my wife and I were looking at our bills, wondering how we were possibly going to make it through the holidays with some food, much less presents for each other. And, just as we opened the mail, we saw a curious letter from the State of Minnesota. We opened it, and there was a check. It was Jessie Ventura’s famous tax rebate from the late 1990s. He cut government spending and gave the balance back to the people of Minnesota, and ours came at just the right time.
We felt blessed that very moment. But, the reality was that there would be more days of struggle without rebate checks randomly showing up in the mail. Reality.
This life is full of ups and downs. This life is full of greatness for us and our children and swords that pierce our souls.
This life is life.
It is not the fake perfection of family holidays, but the reality of the days that follow. Jesus was born, not into the fake, idealized stuff, but into the reality.
Jesus does grow to be great in wisdom and understanding. He does grow to be the long anticipated Messiah. But, no one at the idealized, angel filled stable realized what being Messiah actually meant. It meant hoards of followers like a rock star, yes, yes. But, it also meant death on a cross, alone. Jesus was born into our reality, and it is in reality where he will be found.
He is there both when you celebrate another birthday, and when you find out about the cancer.
He is there both when you celebrate the new child, and when you fear for their lives as they wander away.
He is there both in the times when you are filled with faith and give of your time and money to help others, and in the times when you think only of yourself and cause total destruction.
He is there bearing both blessing in the good times and grace and forgiveness in the times of struggle.
He is there beaming with joy during times of greatness, and offering peace in the darkest moments.
Jesus was born in a stable, presented to the Lord with doves or pigeons, and lived the life of real people. And, it is in those real lives, our real lives, that he still resides through the Spirit.
The Spirit of Jesus Christ is with you still.
Even if.
Even if the celebration is past and the reality has settled in. He is there.
Simeon too has his highs and his lows. He holds the very salvation of the world in his hands. What a beautiful scene. A true high.
But, he also prays that he might now go to die. A true low.
Yet, in the reality of his situation he prays a simple thing. He prays simply that he may “go in peace.”
Peace.
This is what I pray for you. Peace throughout the highs and throughout the lows. Peace during times of greatness and during the times of trial. I pray for peace for you as you face your reality. I pray for you the peace of Jesus, the peace that surpasses all understanding. I pray for you the peace that calms in the face of the storm. I pray for you the peace that sustains though it all. I pray that you might live in a spirit of peace until the last day of your life, and beyond.
When Jesus is presented at the temple, his parents offer a sacrifice of two turtledoves or two young pigeons as his offering to the Lord. This offering gives us a fuller picture of faith as we move from the holidays.
I will tell you what I mean.
You see, the holidays are supposed to be full of cheer and joy. They are supposed to be times of abundance, giving, and gratitude. In our society, the holidays are expected to be a big, positive, celebration with family and friends.
When they are not, then we go away disappointed and depressed.
But, this continuing Christmas story that Luke tells puts it all into perspective for us. Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, gave two turtledoves or two young pigeons as his offering to the Lord. In other words, they were poor.
They were not rich enough to give a goat or another great offering. They had to use the welfare-like prescription in the ancient law that allowed them to use a more humble animal for sacrifice.
The first Christmas was not one of abundance, but one of a birth in a small animal shed and a paltry sacrifice. Jesus was not born into perfection, he was born into reality.
And, reality is full of both. Reality is full of both angelic chorus and scraping by just to get your next meal. It is full of dancing and singing with children and loneliness in the hospital bed. It is full of accomplishments and days of failure. Jesus, God with us, was born into our reality. He was not born into our imaginings of perfection.
Even the baby Jesus himself gets a dose of reality in this scene at the temple. As his poor family walks around the temple, they are shocked by the righteous man, Simeon, who grabs Jesus and pronounces with joy that he had finally, in his old age, seen the salvation of the Lord. Jesus, a member of this poor family, is honored with the highest distinction possible for a young boy in ancient Israel, Messiah, and blessed for the life that will come.
Simeon also blesses Jesus’ parents, but gives Mary the oddest sort of blessing. He says, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too."
Reality.
Jesus life is destined for greatness, but swords will also pierce.
Reality. This life is not only about the blessings and joy that come out of nowhere, like the day early on in our marriage that my wife and I were looking at our bills, wondering how we were possibly going to make it through the holidays with some food, much less presents for each other. And, just as we opened the mail, we saw a curious letter from the State of Minnesota. We opened it, and there was a check. It was Jessie Ventura’s famous tax rebate from the late 1990s. He cut government spending and gave the balance back to the people of Minnesota, and ours came at just the right time.
We felt blessed that very moment. But, the reality was that there would be more days of struggle without rebate checks randomly showing up in the mail. Reality.
This life is full of ups and downs. This life is full of greatness for us and our children and swords that pierce our souls.
This life is life.
It is not the fake perfection of family holidays, but the reality of the days that follow. Jesus was born, not into the fake, idealized stuff, but into the reality.
Jesus does grow to be great in wisdom and understanding. He does grow to be the long anticipated Messiah. But, no one at the idealized, angel filled stable realized what being Messiah actually meant. It meant hoards of followers like a rock star, yes, yes. But, it also meant death on a cross, alone. Jesus was born into our reality, and it is in reality where he will be found.
He is there both when you celebrate another birthday, and when you find out about the cancer.
He is there both when you celebrate the new child, and when you fear for their lives as they wander away.
He is there both in the times when you are filled with faith and give of your time and money to help others, and in the times when you think only of yourself and cause total destruction.
He is there bearing both blessing in the good times and grace and forgiveness in the times of struggle.
He is there beaming with joy during times of greatness, and offering peace in the darkest moments.
Jesus was born in a stable, presented to the Lord with doves or pigeons, and lived the life of real people. And, it is in those real lives, our real lives, that he still resides through the Spirit.
The Spirit of Jesus Christ is with you still.
Even if.
Even if the celebration is past and the reality has settled in. He is there.
Simeon too has his highs and his lows. He holds the very salvation of the world in his hands. What a beautiful scene. A true high.
But, he also prays that he might now go to die. A true low.
Yet, in the reality of his situation he prays a simple thing. He prays simply that he may “go in peace.”
Peace.
This is what I pray for you. Peace throughout the highs and throughout the lows. Peace during times of greatness and during the times of trial. I pray for peace for you as you face your reality. I pray for you the peace of Jesus, the peace that surpasses all understanding. I pray for you the peace that calms in the face of the storm. I pray for you the peace that sustains though it all. I pray that you might live in a spirit of peace until the last day of your life, and beyond.
Friday, December 29, 2017
Reflection on Luke 2:1-20
What if love could take on flesh and walk around? What would it look like? Who would it care about? Where could it be found?
A little over 2000 years ago, an angel came to announce that God’s love was coming to the world in a very real way. After a quick stop at the temple to give Zachariah some news, the angel headed out, away from the temple, away from the seats of power and the garrisons of soldiers, and shared some good news with a very young woman, and some undervalued shepherds watching their flocks by night.
Rather than choose to announce the coming of Emanuel (God with us) to royalty, priests, or the rich, the angel comes to the lowest of the low.
What if love could take on flesh and walk around? Where would love start its life? With whom would love hang around? Where can love be found?
Is it too much for me to take a little of your time to share the greatest joy that I see in the Christmas celebration? Is it too much to be excited about a little, very little thing? Well, even if it is, I do not care. I am going to share with you my Christmas joy. It is simple. It is small. It is the manger.
The manger is humble. It is dirty. But it is only dirty because it is the feeding trough of God’s animals. It is the place of blue collar workers, and faithful, salt of the earth farmers.
Growing up on a farm, I felt a deep connection with God’s choice for a crib: the manger. Jesus, the love of God in the flesh, was more than willing to join me in the barn with the pigs. That simple fact made me happier than maybe it should have. But, take a moment to share my happiness and ask, “What does the manger say about God?” “What does the manger say about the nature of love?”
You know what I think it says? I think it says that when love decides to take flesh, it decides to come and visit even the lowliest of people and creatures in the lowliest of places. When love takes on flesh, it decides to spend time with the animals and the shepherds and the farmers and the people who have no other pace to stay than a shed.
What if love could take on flesh and walk around? What would it look like? Who would it care about? Where could it be found?
If love took on flesh and walked around, I think love would probably find its way to the suffering: the ill, the disturbed, the poor, and the sinner who has not found relief from the guilt. Love would find the children and the tax collectors. Love would choose plain old salt of the earth people to hang out with and to teach. Love would heal and save them all.
Love could not care less about the large temples and fancy imperial houses. Love could not care less about those who stick up their noses and see themselves as important and morally superior. Love could not care less about wealth.
When love takes on flesh and walks around, it embraces those who could use a little…love. It would take part of its body and blood, love would, and would share it with those who hunger for a little…love.
It would not care about its own skin, but would care enough for others that it would take the fall for them. Love would find itself on a cross, full of grace and forgiveness.
Love would do that because love does not forget, or fail, or betray. It is not haughty or boastful. No, rather love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love even endures crosses and evil. Love endures to the end.
What If?
What if love could become flesh and walk around?
What if you could see love walking and know exactly what it looked like?
What if the dirtiness of your life could be cleaned away so that you would not feel ashamed to show your face…your true face?
What if you could walk in the company of love?
What if you could become love yourself?
What if?
Do you want to know the true meaning of Christmas?
Do you want to see the true meaning with your own eyes?
Do you want to experience it?
Do you want to become a part of it?
Do you want to know love deeply; love that will not betray or forget?
What if love could become flesh and walk around?
What if you could be happy once again?
What if?
Do you? Do you want to be happy? Do you want to see love? Do you want to walk in the company of love? Then come and take a look. Take a look in the manger. See the Christ child. See love in the flesh, and be happy once again.
A little over 2000 years ago, an angel came to announce that God’s love was coming to the world in a very real way. After a quick stop at the temple to give Zachariah some news, the angel headed out, away from the temple, away from the seats of power and the garrisons of soldiers, and shared some good news with a very young woman, and some undervalued shepherds watching their flocks by night.
Rather than choose to announce the coming of Emanuel (God with us) to royalty, priests, or the rich, the angel comes to the lowest of the low.
What if love could take on flesh and walk around? Where would love start its life? With whom would love hang around? Where can love be found?
Is it too much for me to take a little of your time to share the greatest joy that I see in the Christmas celebration? Is it too much to be excited about a little, very little thing? Well, even if it is, I do not care. I am going to share with you my Christmas joy. It is simple. It is small. It is the manger.
The manger is humble. It is dirty. But it is only dirty because it is the feeding trough of God’s animals. It is the place of blue collar workers, and faithful, salt of the earth farmers.
Growing up on a farm, I felt a deep connection with God’s choice for a crib: the manger. Jesus, the love of God in the flesh, was more than willing to join me in the barn with the pigs. That simple fact made me happier than maybe it should have. But, take a moment to share my happiness and ask, “What does the manger say about God?” “What does the manger say about the nature of love?”
You know what I think it says? I think it says that when love decides to take flesh, it decides to come and visit even the lowliest of people and creatures in the lowliest of places. When love takes on flesh, it decides to spend time with the animals and the shepherds and the farmers and the people who have no other pace to stay than a shed.
What if love could take on flesh and walk around? What would it look like? Who would it care about? Where could it be found?
If love took on flesh and walked around, I think love would probably find its way to the suffering: the ill, the disturbed, the poor, and the sinner who has not found relief from the guilt. Love would find the children and the tax collectors. Love would choose plain old salt of the earth people to hang out with and to teach. Love would heal and save them all.
Love could not care less about the large temples and fancy imperial houses. Love could not care less about those who stick up their noses and see themselves as important and morally superior. Love could not care less about wealth.
When love takes on flesh and walks around, it embraces those who could use a little…love. It would take part of its body and blood, love would, and would share it with those who hunger for a little…love.
It would not care about its own skin, but would care enough for others that it would take the fall for them. Love would find itself on a cross, full of grace and forgiveness.
Love would do that because love does not forget, or fail, or betray. It is not haughty or boastful. No, rather love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love even endures crosses and evil. Love endures to the end.
What If?
What if love could become flesh and walk around?
What if you could see love walking and know exactly what it looked like?
What if the dirtiness of your life could be cleaned away so that you would not feel ashamed to show your face…your true face?
What if you could walk in the company of love?
What if you could become love yourself?
What if?
Do you want to know the true meaning of Christmas?
Do you want to see the true meaning with your own eyes?
Do you want to experience it?
Do you want to become a part of it?
Do you want to know love deeply; love that will not betray or forget?
What if love could become flesh and walk around?
What if you could be happy once again?
What if?
Do you? Do you want to be happy? Do you want to see love? Do you want to walk in the company of love? Then come and take a look. Take a look in the manger. See the Christ child. See love in the flesh, and be happy once again.
Reflection on Luke 1:26-38
“Do not be afraid.”
It is what angels say all the time.
A guy in a bible study once mentioned that he has read that angelic greeting so many times that it comes across like a simple figure of speech, much like, “How are you doing?” No one really wants to know how you are actually doing. No one wants to hear about your bunion…really no one does. He said, “Do not be afraid” sounds just as insignificant as "How are you doing?" when you do not take the time to read the Bible closely.
To his surprise, when he took the time to read this story about Mary and the angel closely, he found that the phrase is anything but insignificant.
He had never thought about Mary’s situation before. He had never thought about a young girl suddenly encountering the supernatural. He had never thought about the actual fear that probably penetrated the dark that night.
Imagine, a girl of about 13 or 14 settling down on her straw-filled bed in the complete darkness of the ancient night world. Remember, in this ancient world there were no street lights nor were there nightlights plugged into walls.
The night is not safe. The night is full of robbers and wild animals. The night is a place of spirits and demons. The night is a place of fear.
That night, piercing the dark suddenly, is a man seen standing against the dim starlight in her small, dark bedroom.
Alright, admittedly the Bible does not say that the angel came to Mary at night. It could have happened in full daylight for all we know. That said, just stick with me here, in the darkness, because there is much more to fear than the dark.
The angel says out of the darkness, “Greetings favored one, the Lord is with you.” “Favored one;” what a strange thing to say to someone who really is not anyone. After-all, Mary is not a princess. Mary has no political or religious influence in her society. She does not have the wisdom of the years needed to influence the men of power from behind the scenes.
Mary is just a young, inexperienced, engaged girl…in the dark…not favored by anyone except maybe Joseph. She is a poor nobody. Mary sat on her bed perplexed, knees snug up against her chest protectively, listening to the man’s words.
The words, “Do not be afraid,” float from across the dark room, originating from the strange man.
As I mentioned before, the setting is not the only thing that is scary here. I actually think that the angel was trying to make sure that Mary did not run in fear of the message he was about to deliver.
The voice from the dark continues, “You have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."
Have you ever suddenly realized that your entire world was about to change? Have you ever been in a situation where you were quite certain that your life would never be the same?
“Your position in the company is being moved overseas to Germany. I hope that you have an English-German dictionary,” the boss mentions standing at your door.
“I don’t want to be with you any longer,” the spouse says to the shocked other.
“Happy day graduates! I hope you have a plan for the future already,” the principal says during the graduation ceremony.
“I’m sorry, but she is dead,” comes from the mouth of the police officer at the door.
“You are going to be a father,” she says to her shocked boyfriend.
All of these are examples of the very moment that your old world dies and a new world begins, whether you are ready or not. Much of the time we are not ready. We are certainly not ready for the tragedies of life that take loved ones from us, or announce terminal illnesses.
Nor, are many of us even ready for the seemingly happy events of life, like finding out for the first time that you will be a parent, or finding out that you were excepted into a prestigious, yet academically challenging school.
With her shocking news sinking in, Mary questions this new, uncertain vision for her life that will bring about the death of her old life. After-all, young virgins just do not find out that they are pregnant. The lowly just are not chosen for greatness. How do you even raise a king correctly? What if you raise a brat? What if you accidentally drop a divine child on his head? The stakes are awfully high in this heavenly game.
Mary’s world is changing this very instant, and, as you probably already know, fear flourishes in times of change.
“Do not fear” the angel says to Mary.
Has saying, “Don’t be afraid” has ever worked for you? Imagine, the plane’s engine stops in mid-flight and the steward says, “Don’t be afraid, it happens all the time.” I have to admit that just does not quite do it for me…I don’t know about you.
But, the angel has more for Mary than just “Do not fear.” He continues with something even better: “You have found favor with God.”
And, that right there is the sweet music of grace. “You have found favor with God.”
It says, “No matter what, God is on your side, because God has found something of worth in you.”
It says, “No matter the fear or the hurdles you are about to face, God knows that you are the right one for this time and this place.”
It says, “It doesn’t matter if you think you are the right one, God knows you are the right one.”
And, it says, “God is with you through it all.” “You have found favor with God.”
It is true, you are the right one for this time and this place. God did not make a mistake in choosing you for where you are in your life. You have found favor with God. God considered everyone else and thought, "No, I have found the right one. It is you."
Mary believes the promise.
Though she is from the middle of nowhere; though she is no princess of even a duchess; and though she is just a young teen, she believes the promise and sets her sights on her new future.
That is how great the promise of God is. It allows Mary to look upon her uncertain, new life and respond, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."
Here we are Lord. We do not know what you were thinking in choosing us. We do not know what the future holds. If we are honest with ourselves, no amount of “Do not be afraid” is going to comfort us. Yet, you think we are the right ones for the task right here and right now. So, I guess, if you think so Lord, here we are. We are your servants. Lead the way Lord. Lead the way.
It is what angels say all the time.
A guy in a bible study once mentioned that he has read that angelic greeting so many times that it comes across like a simple figure of speech, much like, “How are you doing?” No one really wants to know how you are actually doing. No one wants to hear about your bunion…really no one does. He said, “Do not be afraid” sounds just as insignificant as "How are you doing?" when you do not take the time to read the Bible closely.
To his surprise, when he took the time to read this story about Mary and the angel closely, he found that the phrase is anything but insignificant.
He had never thought about Mary’s situation before. He had never thought about a young girl suddenly encountering the supernatural. He had never thought about the actual fear that probably penetrated the dark that night.
Imagine, a girl of about 13 or 14 settling down on her straw-filled bed in the complete darkness of the ancient night world. Remember, in this ancient world there were no street lights nor were there nightlights plugged into walls.
The night is not safe. The night is full of robbers and wild animals. The night is a place of spirits and demons. The night is a place of fear.
That night, piercing the dark suddenly, is a man seen standing against the dim starlight in her small, dark bedroom.
Alright, admittedly the Bible does not say that the angel came to Mary at night. It could have happened in full daylight for all we know. That said, just stick with me here, in the darkness, because there is much more to fear than the dark.
The angel says out of the darkness, “Greetings favored one, the Lord is with you.” “Favored one;” what a strange thing to say to someone who really is not anyone. After-all, Mary is not a princess. Mary has no political or religious influence in her society. She does not have the wisdom of the years needed to influence the men of power from behind the scenes.
Mary is just a young, inexperienced, engaged girl…in the dark…not favored by anyone except maybe Joseph. She is a poor nobody. Mary sat on her bed perplexed, knees snug up against her chest protectively, listening to the man’s words.
The words, “Do not be afraid,” float from across the dark room, originating from the strange man.
As I mentioned before, the setting is not the only thing that is scary here. I actually think that the angel was trying to make sure that Mary did not run in fear of the message he was about to deliver.
The voice from the dark continues, “You have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."
Have you ever suddenly realized that your entire world was about to change? Have you ever been in a situation where you were quite certain that your life would never be the same?
“Your position in the company is being moved overseas to Germany. I hope that you have an English-German dictionary,” the boss mentions standing at your door.
“I don’t want to be with you any longer,” the spouse says to the shocked other.
“Happy day graduates! I hope you have a plan for the future already,” the principal says during the graduation ceremony.
“I’m sorry, but she is dead,” comes from the mouth of the police officer at the door.
“You are going to be a father,” she says to her shocked boyfriend.
All of these are examples of the very moment that your old world dies and a new world begins, whether you are ready or not. Much of the time we are not ready. We are certainly not ready for the tragedies of life that take loved ones from us, or announce terminal illnesses.
Nor, are many of us even ready for the seemingly happy events of life, like finding out for the first time that you will be a parent, or finding out that you were excepted into a prestigious, yet academically challenging school.
With her shocking news sinking in, Mary questions this new, uncertain vision for her life that will bring about the death of her old life. After-all, young virgins just do not find out that they are pregnant. The lowly just are not chosen for greatness. How do you even raise a king correctly? What if you raise a brat? What if you accidentally drop a divine child on his head? The stakes are awfully high in this heavenly game.
Mary’s world is changing this very instant, and, as you probably already know, fear flourishes in times of change.
“Do not fear” the angel says to Mary.
Has saying, “Don’t be afraid” has ever worked for you? Imagine, the plane’s engine stops in mid-flight and the steward says, “Don’t be afraid, it happens all the time.” I have to admit that just does not quite do it for me…I don’t know about you.
But, the angel has more for Mary than just “Do not fear.” He continues with something even better: “You have found favor with God.”
And, that right there is the sweet music of grace. “You have found favor with God.”
It says, “No matter what, God is on your side, because God has found something of worth in you.”
It says, “No matter the fear or the hurdles you are about to face, God knows that you are the right one for this time and this place.”
It says, “It doesn’t matter if you think you are the right one, God knows you are the right one.”
And, it says, “God is with you through it all.” “You have found favor with God.”
It is true, you are the right one for this time and this place. God did not make a mistake in choosing you for where you are in your life. You have found favor with God. God considered everyone else and thought, "No, I have found the right one. It is you."
Mary believes the promise.
Though she is from the middle of nowhere; though she is no princess of even a duchess; and though she is just a young teen, she believes the promise and sets her sights on her new future.
That is how great the promise of God is. It allows Mary to look upon her uncertain, new life and respond, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."
Here we are Lord. We do not know what you were thinking in choosing us. We do not know what the future holds. If we are honest with ourselves, no amount of “Do not be afraid” is going to comfort us. Yet, you think we are the right ones for the task right here and right now. So, I guess, if you think so Lord, here we are. We are your servants. Lead the way Lord. Lead the way.
Sunday, December 17, 2017
Reflection on John 1:6-8, 19-28
I wish.
I wish that I could enter into your darkness. I wish that I could heal your pain and shine some light on those nights when you cry deep into the darkness. I wish that I was the full moon for you; or even better, the light of the day. I wish that I could shine the divine light that creates new life onto your skin and make everything better.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the light. I cannot shine on you or make anything new. No sores will be healed through me. I am not the creator of life. I am not the giver of new life. But, I can point to the one who is.
He is the one who shined on those first wisps of creation and gave them life. He is the one who can enter into your locked room at night and provide the light of joy on those dark nights.
Behold, Christ the light!
I wish.
I wish that I could free you from your own brokenness. I wish the failures of the past would not hold you back quite so much. I wish that you would not dwell on them again and again. I wish that you could be free of your failures. I wish that you would feel truly free to be a child of God. I wish that the sin that keeps tripping you up would simply go away. I wish that I could be a burnt offering for your sin. I wish that your failures would burn with me and fade into the ether.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the Lamb of God. I am not the one who can take away your sin. I am not the one who can free you from the damage of the past. I am not the one who can wipe your slate clean. Though I can declare forgiveness, I am not the one who can grant it in a way that will actually bring you peace. I do not take away the sins of the world. I cannot even take away my own sin! I am just as broken as you. But, I can point to the one who can.
He is the one who promises to take away sin and make you new again. He is the one who promises to be our last Passover lamb, who once and for all time passes over our brokenness and says, “You are forgiven. Now, just let it go.” He is the one who can save us from ourselves.
Behold, the Lamb of God!
I wish.
I wish that I could bring the holy to you. I wish that I could make this Christmas sink into your heart in a way that the past ones could not. I wish that I could just make it a rule that you believe, and you would just do it. I wish that you could know the joy of faith, the peace that passes all understanding, and the hope that still inspires the nations. I wish that you could feel rooted deeply into something greater than yourself. I wish you would be able to sense the spark of divine presence in your very soul. I wish you had great faith.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the one who can give you the Holy Spirit. I cannot strengthen the divine spark in you. I cannot blow oxygen on it and make it blaze gloriously within your soul, burning with colors of love and faith. I cannot make it outshine all the stars, or outshine the holiday projections on the houses, or even outshine the lit up, air filled Santas and Frosties. I cannot do any of that. I cannot fill you with the Holy Spirit. But, I can point to the one who can.
He is the one who created that divine spark in your soul in the first place. He is the one who can blow on it, fanning the flames of divine, holy love. He is the one who can fill you with the joy, the peace, and the hope of the faithful. He is the one who can create great faith where there once was little.
Behold, the Son of God who baptizes with the Holy Spirit!
After-all, none of us are the saviors of the world, nor are we even saviors our own lives. None of us are self-made successes. None of us created the greatness of our lives out of nothing. None of us.
And, if we think that we are great because of our own efforts…if we think that we are basically wonderful, sinless people who need no one to save us, then we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.
The truth is: the best any of us can do is point to the one who can save.
Like the Christmas trees, the best we can do is point up to the light of the world.
Like the shepherds, the best we can do is point our bodies toward the light and walk in that direction.
Like the wise men, the best we can do is point our faces to the ground and humbly offer up the gifts that we bear to the light of the world.
Like John the witness, the best we can do is point to Jesus Christ, the light of the world.
In all we do and say, we can point to the one who died for the world, and also raises the world to new life; Jesus Christ.
So, have faith, not in me, but in Jesus. Have trust, not in me, but in Jesus. Have hope, not in me, but in Jesus.
My own body will fail and disappoint. My own body can love you, but in an imperfect and faltering way. My own body cannot give you new life. My own body can only point to the one who can, the light of the world, Jesus Christ. But, that is more than enough. Being pointers who direct others to God is more than enough.
The fact that I can only point to the light of the world means one thing though; you may have to wait. I cannot make anything happen in your life right now. I cannot make your pain go away right now. I cannot make your guilt evaporate this instant. I cannot make joy fill your heart this holiday season. That is up to God and God’s timing.
Thus, you may need to wait.
But, that is what this season of Advent before Christmas is all about is it not? It is about waiting, with hope. It is about waiting with faith. It is a season of trust. But, we do not trust in ourselves or our neighbors. Rather, we trust in the Lord.
Wait for the Lord, be strong, have faith. Our Lord is near.
I wish that I could enter into your darkness. I wish that I could heal your pain and shine some light on those nights when you cry deep into the darkness. I wish that I was the full moon for you; or even better, the light of the day. I wish that I could shine the divine light that creates new life onto your skin and make everything better.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the light. I cannot shine on you or make anything new. No sores will be healed through me. I am not the creator of life. I am not the giver of new life. But, I can point to the one who is.
He is the one who shined on those first wisps of creation and gave them life. He is the one who can enter into your locked room at night and provide the light of joy on those dark nights.
Behold, Christ the light!
I wish.
I wish that I could free you from your own brokenness. I wish the failures of the past would not hold you back quite so much. I wish that you would not dwell on them again and again. I wish that you could be free of your failures. I wish that you would feel truly free to be a child of God. I wish that the sin that keeps tripping you up would simply go away. I wish that I could be a burnt offering for your sin. I wish that your failures would burn with me and fade into the ether.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the Lamb of God. I am not the one who can take away your sin. I am not the one who can free you from the damage of the past. I am not the one who can wipe your slate clean. Though I can declare forgiveness, I am not the one who can grant it in a way that will actually bring you peace. I do not take away the sins of the world. I cannot even take away my own sin! I am just as broken as you. But, I can point to the one who can.
He is the one who promises to take away sin and make you new again. He is the one who promises to be our last Passover lamb, who once and for all time passes over our brokenness and says, “You are forgiven. Now, just let it go.” He is the one who can save us from ourselves.
Behold, the Lamb of God!
I wish.
I wish that I could bring the holy to you. I wish that I could make this Christmas sink into your heart in a way that the past ones could not. I wish that I could just make it a rule that you believe, and you would just do it. I wish that you could know the joy of faith, the peace that passes all understanding, and the hope that still inspires the nations. I wish that you could feel rooted deeply into something greater than yourself. I wish you would be able to sense the spark of divine presence in your very soul. I wish you had great faith.
I wish.
But, like John the witness, I am not the one who can give you the Holy Spirit. I cannot strengthen the divine spark in you. I cannot blow oxygen on it and make it blaze gloriously within your soul, burning with colors of love and faith. I cannot make it outshine all the stars, or outshine the holiday projections on the houses, or even outshine the lit up, air filled Santas and Frosties. I cannot do any of that. I cannot fill you with the Holy Spirit. But, I can point to the one who can.
He is the one who created that divine spark in your soul in the first place. He is the one who can blow on it, fanning the flames of divine, holy love. He is the one who can fill you with the joy, the peace, and the hope of the faithful. He is the one who can create great faith where there once was little.
Behold, the Son of God who baptizes with the Holy Spirit!
After-all, none of us are the saviors of the world, nor are we even saviors our own lives. None of us are self-made successes. None of us created the greatness of our lives out of nothing. None of us.
And, if we think that we are great because of our own efforts…if we think that we are basically wonderful, sinless people who need no one to save us, then we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.
The truth is: the best any of us can do is point to the one who can save.
Like the Christmas trees, the best we can do is point up to the light of the world.
Like the shepherds, the best we can do is point our bodies toward the light and walk in that direction.
Like the wise men, the best we can do is point our faces to the ground and humbly offer up the gifts that we bear to the light of the world.
Like John the witness, the best we can do is point to Jesus Christ, the light of the world.
In all we do and say, we can point to the one who died for the world, and also raises the world to new life; Jesus Christ.
So, have faith, not in me, but in Jesus. Have trust, not in me, but in Jesus. Have hope, not in me, but in Jesus.
My own body will fail and disappoint. My own body can love you, but in an imperfect and faltering way. My own body cannot give you new life. My own body can only point to the one who can, the light of the world, Jesus Christ. But, that is more than enough. Being pointers who direct others to God is more than enough.
The fact that I can only point to the light of the world means one thing though; you may have to wait. I cannot make anything happen in your life right now. I cannot make your pain go away right now. I cannot make your guilt evaporate this instant. I cannot make joy fill your heart this holiday season. That is up to God and God’s timing.
Thus, you may need to wait.
But, that is what this season of Advent before Christmas is all about is it not? It is about waiting, with hope. It is about waiting with faith. It is a season of trust. But, we do not trust in ourselves or our neighbors. Rather, we trust in the Lord.
Wait for the Lord, be strong, have faith. Our Lord is near.
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