Christmas Day

I read an article yesterday morning that cited a statistic that – although it left me shaking my head – didn’t really surprise me at all. Turns out that 38% of parents in the United States teach their children to believe in Santa, while only 28% of them tell their children the biblical story of the birth of Jesus at this time of year. Like I said, it didn’t really surprise me; statistics in Canada are probably the same.

There’s a certain unfair competition with Santa, isn’t there? For starters, Santa’s got pull with the most influential group of voters – those under four feet high. Santa’s Christmas is about getting what you want, being able to gorge on chocolate and all those naughty foods that mom and dad won’t let you have but that Grandma always seems to have in her purse. Kids respond to that kind of instant gratification.

And it works for parents, too – in the mall the other day I heard a stressed-out mom tell her kids “if you don’t smarten up and start behaving right now Santa won’t come this year because he knows you’re bad.” This, despite the fact she was pushing a shopping cart loaded with the kind of toys my boys would love. It helps to have that kind of power of manipulation, doesn’t it?

Santa’s useful to believe in at this time of year, because believing in Santa means that you can be in control. You can get what you want through a simple bargaining exchange. If you’re good, you’ll get what you want. Since Santa is a creation of our culture, Santa works the way we want God to work. Unfortunately, our lives don’t always work we want them to.

I think it’s fitting that Christmas comes right on the heels of the winter solstice, the longest night. It is the longest night for some people, knowing that this is the year that everything changed, that you lost your house, your marriage, your spouse, your job. This time of year - when you are surrounded by the most ridiculous kind of gross consumption - your own troubles are thrown into sharp contrast.

A long, long time ago God promised to the people of Israel that they would be redeemed. God spoke to them through the prophets, laid out for people the way that they could live in community with each other, and have life-giving relationships with those who surrounded them.

Yet it turns out that people don’t take kindly to each other. You can’t enforce a command to “love your neighbour” because a law can’t change people’s hearts. So the same people who desired to be closer to God dictated that it must be on their own terms. Trouble was, their terms were death.

Into this conversation God spoke the Word. It’s difficult to understand the importance that “Word” has for Christians, because the Word is not just an abstract concept.

But I can rely on the wisdom of a four-year-old to explain it. When my son Duncan brings myself or my wife a book to read to him, he asks us to “talk words to me”. For him, the words are real, and they are brought to life when they are spoken. They’re not just on a page, static – they are waiting to be heard.

God created the world through words – the first words, “let there be light,” and all the words that God has spoken since have carried out their creative task. So, it was God’s Word that took on frail human flesh, in order to redeem God’s own people.

So why do God’s people need redeeming? Can’t we just be nice to everyone, the way Santa wants?

Here’s a tip, beloved: next Christmas, or even tomorrow, go to West Ed Mall, find a bench, sit down, and listen to the music. It’s lovely: peace on earth, goodwill to all, love came down at Christmas…you know the songs. But then watch the people. People who want to believe that they can buy happiness find they can’t. People run looking for bargains on what they can ‘save’, but maybe don’t realize that they are saved. Not for who they are, or what they’ve done or bought, but through who God is and what God does. But for most people, life on December 26 looks just like life on December, which looks like September 9…you get the idea.

That’s a sticking point around Santa, have you noticed? Santa can be put away for 11 months of the year. We don’t sing “Santa Claus is coming to town” in August (although in my house we might hear it). Yet Christian hymnody reminds us of a God who is always present with us, who adores us, who died for us, to save us from the consequences of our own sin.

How many times have you sat in the midst of the destruction and chaos of Christmas morning – wrapping paper everywhere, the kids hopped up on chocolate trying to wrap the cat – and looked at all things you’ve been given and been on the verge of tears; just wanting to say “you don’t have to give me this much to show that you love me”?

That is the darkness that we face this season – that growing trend that says if you love someone you have to give them lots of stuff. Particularly, if you want to marry them, or stay married to them. Love needs big trinkets. Why just tell your girlfriend you love her, when for a mere $1500 dollars you can buy her a necklace? Or $3700 for the “ring she’s always wanted?”

Trinkets for love is not an exchange that lasts. Love for love always does.

There was a man, sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

Christmastime is about a love so fierce that we can’t escape it. It’s a love so dynamic that when it was spoken, the very Word spoken took on frail human flesh and lived among us. Not for money and power, but for grace, and truth. God’s love is so strong that it burns like a candle in the midst of a dark, dark night.

Light is one of those things that we take for granted, but consider this: settlements in Israel at the time of Isaiah through the time of Jesus were about a half-days donkey ride apart, and they’re built on ‘tells’ – little hills that spring up when towns are built, destroyed, and then built again.

But it could be terrifying when an army invaded, because if you were on the highest hill, you could see the lights of each little town first flare up, and then go out, one by one. All that was left was deep darkness. In that kind of darkness, one candle looked like a torch.

I sometimes think that the forced glee and feely-goodness of Christmas covers up a much deeper, darker despair. Because love – love without conditions, without rules, without power - is hard to find in a secular society. But here, in this place, God’s love for the world is the reason we gather; for we gather as children of God, born through baptism, united in love.

If there is a gift that Christians give to the world at Christmastime and at every time, let it be love. Not condemnation, not judgement, but love. The great Christian calling is to bear witness to the love of God in Christ – and if absolutely necessary, to use words to do so.

And there were people, sent from God, whose names were Erann, and Ralph, and Frank, and Ruth, (their names are all the names spoken by the breath of God) -- all who were baptized into Christ Jesus. They came for testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through their witness. They were not the light, but came to bear witness to the Light. And their song was joyous, and their reward was everlasting.

Let the people of God say amen.

Christmas Eve

If you’ve ever picked a book off the New York Times best-sellers list for fiction, chances are you’ve picked up a mystery.

You know, we like mysteries. We like being able to put things together so that they make sense – often, if something doesn’t make sense we dismiss it out of hand, or in a tremendous feat of mental gymnastics we alter some the information we have available to make a conclusion ‘fit’.

But what do we about Christmas? In our own Christmas story, mystery at the heart of our own Christian faith.

There are mysteries of time. You may have heard of the debate that goes on as to when exactly Jesus was born – some authorities say about 5 BC; others state that his birth was around 4 AD. Most agree that it was NOT in the year 1. December 25 already hosted two other related festivals: a Roman one honoring the sun, and the birthday of Mithras, the Iranian "Sun of Righteousness" – who was popular with the common people.

The winter solstice, another celebration of the sun, fell just a few days earlier. Seeing that pagans were already exalting deities with some parallels what they knew to be true, early church leaders picked December 25 as the day to celebrate the birth of the everlasting God.

In the Christmas story there is a mystery of place. Luke records that Joseph came from Nazareth, to which his family had probably been sent as part of a forced resettlement twenty years earlier. He went to Bethlehem, because he was of the house of David, the royal house of Israel.

Luke records here that “there was no room for them at the inn” - but that’s a pretty curious event. How many here tonight have travelled to an ancestral place (even Edmonton) and called a relative out of the blue and been given a place to sleep? Our families now aren’t nearly as closely-knit as those of 2000 years ago. So why couldn’t Joseph find some lodging for himself and his very pregnant wife?

And in this story there’s a mystery of “space” – the ‘outer’ kind, not the ‘where are we going to put all this junk we got’ kind. There are angels flying around all over the place, buzzing shepherds. If the shepherds were terrified, it was probably somewhat tempered by the irritation that someone was disturbing their peacefully slumbering flocks.

It begins with one angel, to bring to them the good news of the Messiah’s birth, and right on their heels comes a heavenly chorus. Why all this fuss for a couple of illiterate bumpkins? Nowhere else in any religious text do we hear of the birth of a Saviour being told to a group of farm hands. It’s simply not done. Divine announcements usually come in the form of smoke and fire and shaking on the tops of mountains (read Exodus 19 for a good account), not choirs of angels serenading the salt of the earth, solely for their own benefit. So who are these people?

And the final mystery in this story is the central aspect of Christian faith. It is the mystery of the Incarnation. As the angel told to the shepherds, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is Christ, the Lord”. Why? This is the ultimate mystery, the one that defines Christian faith. The word ‘incarnation’ itself means literally, “with meat.” Jesus, who was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary – both fully human and fully divine - came to us in a stable, a Messiah covered in the blood and sweat of labour. And that’s not all.

The apostle Paul wrote to his friend Titus about twenty years after the Resurrection saying, “the grace of God appeared, bringing salvation to all”. To all people. God Incarnate was born to the poorest of the poor. If there was a baby born tonight, in the back alley behind the Bissel Centre, we may understand the revulsion of those circumstances. Why did this – why does this not capture the attention of everyone?

People then, like us today, simply ignored God when it suited, and when it didn’t, preferred to use the belief in God as a bludgeon to terrify and oppress those who held different opinions. Part of the mystery of the Incarnation is that that Saviour, Jesus, “gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity and purify for himself a people of his own who are zealous for good deeds”. For all people – from those who are persecuted, even to those who are doing the persecuting.

True to the Lutheran tradition, we believe that we cannot by any effort of our own attain salvation from our sins for ourselves. But often, we still try. We take the Bible, which is the manger that cradles Christ, and fashion it into a cudgel that we then use to judge and scourge those we think are unfit. That’s not Christianity.

At Christmastime, God came down to us. There is nothing we do to accept that love – it is part of our lives, whether we recognize it, or want it, or not. That love was willing to bear all punishment and not just die for us – but to live again for us. Understanding that our relationship with God is made right through that baby whom we call the Messiah, we turn to the abundant life that benefits the whole people of God. This is what defined the early church, and what will define the church of our future.

Every year we gather together to celebrate this time. We try to blot out the tragedies that have followed us through the year. That’s our mystery of this time: why do we try to hide from God things that God already knows? Yes, that baby was born in a manger to the tune of a thousand angelic voices. But he was also born in pain, and in suffering, and in the midst of times of despair and death. Why?

Because we need to know that God is with us, and perhaps the hardest thing for us to understand is the love of God – the love that knows no boundaries, not even death, and never leaves us, even though we may try to leave God. We cannot choose to accept or reject God – it’s not an ‘either-or’ proposition.

God is with us, in our joys, in our sorrows, and through all of our days. The choice that we can make is to stop rejecting God in our lives, and then in surest faith to turn out to those in our communities who suffer and need and bring to them the message of the Christmas gospel – Fear not, for unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour who is Christ, the Lord.

This is the message that brings food and shelter to the hungry and poor, and comfort to those sick or in prison. One small child broke the yoke of sin that rested on our shoulders, as the ancient Israelites were freed from slavery.

That one small child became the man who hung on the cross, and died for us and for our salvation. Through the Christ child we are given new life, a life that isn’t defined by what we can buy, or give, or get, but defined by love: the love of God, surrounding us, filling us, and bringing us together in community.

May you who have gathered here tonight leave this place knowing the love of God for you. May you trust the mysteries of faith, content that you will never fully understand God – and grateful that you may abide in that love, and share it with your neighbours.

And maybe tonight, you don’t know why you’re here. You’ve come to hear some word that might bring hope into your life. Or, you’re listening for the ‘amen’ that will enable you to hope that the service is almost done.

To you then, welcome. And please understand – it was for you that God came. What happened on this night so very long ago, changed the world. Let it change your life.

Let the people of God say amen.

For Alexander and Emma

Occasionally I'm reminded that a tough day at the office for me is part of someone else's nightmare. May God be with Emma and Alexander, who were born at 21 weeks.

Grace and peace, to you in your time of sorrow, from God our heavenly Father and our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

It’s a cruel coincidence that we gather here after the longest night of the year – a time when darkness takes over the majority of our waking hours and can leave even the hardiest person longing for light. We come together in the middle of your darkest night, as you mourn the death of Alexander and Emma.

Tyler and Jackie, I’ve talked with you before and I still can’t even pretend to tell you that your babies’ death is part of God’s ‘plan’ for us, that your pain is good, right, or just. It is none of those things. To say otherwise would be for me to deny your grief. Your grief is real – and you have a right to feel like you do.

Anger, guilt, pain, immeasurable sadness and all the other emotions you experience right now are warranted. Let your anger and grief work through, because they need to. If you need to be angry at God, be angry at God. When you weep, know that God weeps with you. God has known what it is like to lose a child.

Though some may tell you otherwise, your grief should not be blunted because Alexander and Emma’s life was so short. In reality, it probably hurts so much worse because of that. But I yearn for you to find something else in your grief. I want you to find hope.

Hope that Alexander and Emma now rest in the arms of God, who loves all of us. Hope, knowing that their memory will become holy unto you even as their life, too short, was holy. You mourn, and all creation mourns with you. But you are not abandoned by God, and neither are Alexander and Emma.

Like those children who came to be blessed by Jesus, your babies now rest with God who has known them from before the first time you felt them in your womb. Tyler and Jackie, you are children of God, and please know that this community is gathered today to support you and be present to you in your grief.

People brought children to Jesus, because they knew that in a world that could be horribly, terribly cruel Jesus loved their children. It is the will of God that they enter the kingdom of heaven, where they can rest in the arms of Jesus Christ. For in God’s love, they live forever.

And I know that you want nothing else in this world except for Alexander and Emma to be here with you – for you to hold, to comfort, and to see them smile again. We can’t make that happen today – there’s no power on earth that can. But I can promise that you will see your babies again. We are promised a time when our tears will be dry, and our sorrow will be over – the day of Resurrection.

On that day we will see our loved ones again, when we are reunited with them to sing the song that began when creation was new. On that day, Tyler and Jackie, the love that you sang out for your son and your daughter will flow again from your lips, and you too will feel the perfect love of God. You will be together.

Have hope in that. Have faith that through the cross – through death – Jesus shows us the way to everlasting life in the love of God. The Good Shepherd, who gave his life for his sheep, now watches over Alexander and Emma, and they are at peace. Let their memory be holy to you, as their lives were.

Tyler, Jackie, as you walk through death’s dark valley, know that God does more than walk with you. God carries you, as he carries your family and all of us, even as he carries Alexander and Emma. God has promised that he will not leave your children, and you can hope for that day, that last day, when our Lord Jesus Christ returns and you will meet your babies again.

And time will blunt your grief, though it will never go away. This is the longest night, and quite probably every fiber of your being is longing for your children. Yet, just like the days will get longer as the sun shines through the darkness, your grief will fade. One day, you will wake up in the morning and your thoughts won’t be of Alexander and Emma – but don’t feel guilty, because your heart will always remember them.

And then on that day, when all other things have ended, your new life will begin and you will be united with Alexander and Emma through the baptismal promise that you share.

And on that day you may be greeted by Alexander and Emma, who may speak those words that you so longed to say to them:

We love you. Welcome home.

Amen

Asking God

I asked God for strength, that I may achieve,
I was made weak, that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for riches, that I might be happy,
I was given poverty that I might be wise.
I asked for power, that I might have praise of men,
I was given weakness, that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I may enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for --
but everything that I hoped for.
Almost despite myself,
my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am, among all men,
most richly blessed.

-- attributed to an anonymous confederate soldier--

Advent 4a

So what is God’s plan for your life? I am an inveterate “googler” – and when I typed in “discover God’s plan for my life,” Google blessed me with over 500 000 websites devoted to that topic. “God’s plan for my life” is apparently pretty important, and if I’m really good and send my name, address, phone number, and email address I can receive weekly insights that will help me discover what God’s plan for my life really is – or at least, a close approximation.

Of course, I rather suspect there’s an unwritten assumption there – that if my life is in shambles, it’s because I’m not following God’s plan for my life.

But does it really work that way? If God has a plan for your life, does following it mean life is easy? Or is there the standard excuse – “no, it makes life harder but more worth it. I have to follow what God wants for my life.”

I’ll be honest, and tell you that I don’t put a lot of value on any literature, program, or presentation that promises to help me find “God’s plan for my life.” I don’t really care for them, beloved, because God is going to act out God’s plan for your life whether you like it, agree with it, follow it, or not. God doesn’t need your permission.

But let me talk about what God does expect from you, or maybe I can even tell you what I think God needs from you. But so far as I know, only one person was ever told what’s God’s plan for people was – and that was Joseph.

Joseph is really the reason I don’t like the ‘God’s plan for my life’ language. Because we often miss the man who Joseph is. He’s either a second-role player, relegated to the back of the line in the manger scene, or he becomes the hero, taking charge, taking Mary to Bethlehem, finding the stable, doing those things that heroes do.

Yet stop for a minute and consider the society Joseph lived in. Think of this particular community, fifty or sixty years ago. What happened when someone became pregnant out of wedlock? And what would have happened if that someone became pregnant before living her fiancé, and everyone knew that the baby wasn’t his?

Now imagine a society in which that’s punishable by death, or in the best case being expelled and shunned by the family. It’s called an ‘honour code,’ and it still exists in many countries in the Middle East today. Heck, it still exists in many “Christian” families.

Do you really that Joseph liked ‘God’s plan’ for his life? Oh by the way, Joseph, I’m going to publically shame you. When you’re engaged, she’s going to get pregnant. And people will talk, but you won’t do anything about it. In fact, you’ll marry her anyway. But you won’t do what comes naturally to young couples. Until I’m done with her.

What Joseph did had the potential to ruin his life.

That’s the kicker, isn’t it? There’s a fine line between following God’s plan, and being off your rocker.

I remember hearing in a sermon a story about a young woman who decided to follow ‘God’s plan’ for her life. Her plan included an MBA from a business school and a prosperous life. But then she heard a couple of stories about development work in Africa, and about becoming a minister.

And she gave up her expensive education. Went and worked as a volunteer. Took classes at a Seminary. Sold her car, stopped visiting the boutique stores, stopped martini lunches and girl’s night out.

Her family’s response was to prosecute her campus pastor, who they blamed for her transformation. Accusations of ‘cult leader’ followed, and the family enlisted a deprogrammer to get their daughter back.

So I think that the biggest reason I don’t like the language of “God’s plan for my life,” is that it’s usually conditional on two things: 1) that it agrees with what I want for my life, or 2) something horrible happens and there has to be a ‘why’.

But I’ll tell you what: I think that God has already revealed God’s plan for your life. A messenger of God revealed it to Joseph, and Scripture has given it to you. It’s not a ‘how to’ list. It’s not a not a ‘must do’ list.

God’s plan for you is revealed in a baby. Mary will bear a son, and he will be named him Jesus – Joshua in Hebrew – for he will save his people from their sins. ‘Joshua’ means simply “God saves” – so there is salvation in the name of Jesus Christ. God’s plan for your life is your salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.

Because if there’s any one common denominator in the bible, it’s that God is sovereign. God reigns over all things, and really, I find it difficult to believe that God cares which financial planner you use, that you find ‘financial freedom’. I think God cares more that you use your blessings to care for God’s church and God’s people, and God’s creation than how much you hoard.

I think that part of the issue of “God’s plan” is that we tend to drastically overthink what exactly that means. Often, we tend to think of in terms of ‘predestination’ – the idea that God has elected chosen people since the beginning of time for heaven, and knows every choice we are going to make.

Over and against that, is the idea of free will – that we can act independently. We have free will, right? We can choose to do right, or wrong.

Wrong. Because beloved, your free will is bound to sin. You see, God doesn’t weigh everything on a scale – on August 13 you mowed the neighbours lawn (check) but on December 9 you yelled at the grocery girl for being too slow – God sees everything as a whole, and the bad always outweighs the good. You can’t save yourself.

So here’s the two simple propositions of God’s plan:

1) Jesus is Emmanuel, God saves through God with us; and,

2) God has saved you, because God acted.

This is the scandal of this time of year, beloved. That’s God’s incarnation in that little weak baby passes by entirely unnoticed. Everybody else is looking for the Messiah they want – the coming-on-the-clouds type – God comes into the lives of two ordinary people, turns those lives upside down, and they are forever changed.

Yet we’ll hear in the weeks to come that not even Mary and Joseph totally understood who – or what – Jesus was. And that’s fine. Because neither do we.

When we fall into the cycle of trying to see God’s plan for our lives, well, we come right back to the same self-centred, sinful position. God’s plan for MY life. How do I live better?

When you are engaged in the life of God – the church and the world – you begin to see that you are part of a picture that is so much bigger than yourself and your concerns. And you will begin to understand that God’s plan was your salvation through Jesus Christ.

What God expects – or what God needs from us – is faith. But God hedges his bets, and the Holy Spirit draws us into life with God. But faith is a game-changer, because when you find faith, you find a different kind of life.

A life that isn’t lived so that you can find God’s plan by being good, or doing good things that seem to be on the right track. Instead, because God has acted, life is lived because you know that God saved the world through Jesus Christ. Your salvation is joy – and your life becomes testimony to that.

The ancient Israelites waited and waited and waited for their God to be with them. Through times of prosperity it was easier to believe; in times of trouble it was harder yet they still waited. Looking for signs of God, that God truly was with them. God had promised, had laid out their salvation from the foundation of the world, and God would not – did not – forsake them.

Today we are a little bit more blessed to see a sign of the kingdom of God – of God with us – as we celebrate the sacrament of Holy Baptism, a visible sign of God’s presence in our midst.

Today we celebrate the presence of God in Wanda’s life; we rejoice that God has brought her here, called her through the Gospel and enlightened her by the Holy Spirit, just as God has called, gathered, and enlightened us all.

We who wait are blessed by “God with us,” and God alone is sovereign. As Wanda is baptized today, take some time to reflect on your salvation – know that God is with you, blesses you every day, and cherishes you as one of God’s own children.

Let the people of God say amen.

dancing lessons!

Advent 3

“Blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.” Isn’t that a bit odd? After all, Jesus is talking to John the Baptist – but if you remember, he’s also talking to his cousin. John’s mother Elizabeth was Mary’s cousin. John baptized Jesus in the Jordan river, and proclaimed the Messiah’s coming. But the end of Jesus’ declaration to his cousin’s disciple is defensive: “and blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.”

We live in a bit of a backwards world – have you ever noticed that? It’s a world where nothing seems to work like it should. For every child born happy and whole, there are some who are not, or not born at all. For every dollar that is made at our jobs, someone loses theirs, loses their home, their livelihood. The bad things seem so often to outnumber the good.

And that’s not all, of course. If you pay close attention to the media, and to ‘experts’ on our young people, they are taught to think that the worst things that can happen to them in their lives are getting arrested, getting addicted to drugs, or getting pregnant. Do those three sound alike to you?

Marriages crumble because of ‘irreconcilable differences,’ or worse, toxic relationships continue out of fear – fear of being alone, of being ostracized by friends and family. Parents leave children because they need to ‘find themselves’.

If Jesus calls those who take no offense at him ‘blessed’, then one of two things happens: either we see that Christ is in all of us because we are all sinners; or we begin to see ourselves in Christ. So, instead of becoming images of Christ – knowing that when we feel the sting of the law it is because of Christ’s presence reacting to our own self-centeredness; in our minds Christ becomes the image of us.

And it works in religion, too. The fastest growing religious traditions are those of the Law – fundamentalist Islam, and fundamentalist Christianity. Even the New Atheists are as much about their own law as the worst fundamentalist. They’re all about who’s good enough, who can be ‘themselves’ while at the same time being judged by how correctly they believe in the doctrine of their religion – and believe me, beloved, Atheists are as strict about their own doctrine as the most acidic holy roller.

And why do they grow? Because people are more easily united by things at which they take offence than those upon which they agree. Because religions of the law are about being united against a common enemy – those who don’t keep your law – than they are about united by those things you hold in common.

That’s a basic tenant of human behaviour, I would argue. After all, what are Edmonton Eskimos fans without the Calgary Stampeders? What are the Roughriders without the Lions? What are Vulcans, if not for Romulans? (and I promise that will be my last Star Trek™ joke). What is the Tea Party, without Barak Obama?

There’s a website I used to visit that offered ideas and discussion on how to “keep Christ in Christmas”. When I first joined, it seemed like a good thing – just a way of sharing ideas on how Christian families could help our children understand Christmas in light of all the advertising that they see at this time of year.

But after a few months, a certain kind of person had taken over the site. You probably know the kind – they’re the ones who forward those emails to you with “God” and “Jesus” and “Christ” and “the Bible” in BIG capital letters – you know, those emails that are actually based on the old chain letters. You remember them: Someone sent this letter to fifteen people and won the lottery; someone threw it out and got warts. Except the religious ones use the kind of guilt that would make an Irish mother proud – IF you have faith, send it on…

So the messages on the website became more and more reactionary. When people began posting about how “that socialist Obama” was part of a conspiracy to destroy Christmas, it was time for me to go. Because instead of blessing others with the wonderful gift of Christ, they were using the Word of God as a weapon to cause offence.

John and Jesus represent two fundamentally different approaches to the same faith. John baptized Jesus; last week we heard John’s proclamation that the Messiah was coming, “and his winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will separate the wheat from the chaff; and the wheat he will gather into his granary and the chaff he will cast into unquenchable fire.” This was the Messiah that John expected: a great conqueror, a warrior king of the sort that some of the juiciest Old Testament passages are made.

John proclaimed and believed in a Messiah who was going to overthrow the Roman oppressor, bless those who believed in him and damn those who didn’t, with the added benefit of eternal punishment.

And what he got was Jesus.

John and Jesus lived largely separated lives. Each had their own disciples, and each carried out their own ministry in their own way. John had watched Jesus for a little bit; had seem the Holy Spirit descend upon Jesus in the form of a dove.

Yet when John’s steadfast and honest proclamation landed him in prison, he maybe wondered why. After all, he thought he knew who the Messiah was. But consider the text for today: “after he heard in prison what the Messiah was doing”. After hearing about what the Messiah was doing, John began to doubt. Because Jesus wasn’t being the Messiah John expected.

And Jesus’ own account of his actions probably didn’t do his case any good: “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

Wait a minute! Who???? The blind, the lame, the lepers, the deaf, and the dead? It’s a good thing Jesus didn’t mention women, he’d have lost all respect! These are not the people John wants to hear about. He wants to hear about wheat and chaff, about kings and armies and power and might. He wants a messiah who is going to kick all things out of his way.

But Jesus doesn’t’ come as the saviour John expects; he comes and the saviour John needs. Because God doesn’t care about our expectations – God sees far more of us than our sinful selves are probably comfortable with.

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are three distinct approaches to Christianity in the world practiced by Christians themselves, no matter what denomination they are. The first are the “I did it my way,” Christians. While professing belief in Christ, their faith does not affect their lives, which they believe are lived well as long as they’re not hurting anyone. In a way, these people are ‘secular Christians’. They’re probably the majority of people.

But the other two are a bit more complicated. The second group are John the Baptist Christians. They want the Messiah they expect, and will do anything to get it. To them, the Messiah is about kingship, about power, and how they can get it and use it.

And the other group are Mary Christians. They are the Christians who, when confronted with the reality of God in their lives, don’t a) ignore it, or b) exploit it, but choose instead to praise God and be an instrument of the will of God in the world. They are the people who say “my soul proclaims your greatness,” instead of “your winnowing fork is in your hand.”

Maybe that’s why the early church venerated Mary, and why Christianity has continued to do so down through the ages. There’s something special about this young woman. She’s not divine, but nor is she just some chick God picked up one night. Mary seems to know that first and foremost, her relationship with God is about God’s love for her, not the other way around. Her heart sings her praises to God, because that is what God desires from us. Not our behaviour, not our judgement, not our power.

God became incarnate in the world, not to show us what it meant to be divine, but so that we would know what it was to be truly human. Thus the Messiah came restoring relationships, healing the brokenhearted, and letting creation know that God had not abandoned it. But rather that God loved it, and loved God’s people, and loved so fiercely that not even death could separate God’s children from God’s presence.

And it is in that love today that we celebrate the baptism of Jessica Jaelynn Gehlert. Today, she’s baptized not because of fear, but because of love. Today, she joins us in waiting for the Messiah, the Christ who comes into our midst. Today, God so loves the world that he will welcome Jessica into the family of God – not because of who she is or what she has done; but solely because of who Jesus is, and what the Messiah has done.

Let the people of God say amen.

November 14 - Pentecost 25

Texts: Luke 25:5-19; Isaiah 65; Isaiah 12:2-6

On certain websites all throughout the world wide web, there is a kind of breathless anticipation. The kind of anticipation in which kids wait for Christmas, dads wait for the Stanley Cup playoffs, or expectant moms wait for the Ikea catalogue.

This anticipation is so real, so tangible that the words seem to leap off the screen. But if you slow down and read the content, it’s terrible.

Because these are websites dedicated to the end of the world. They track every possible event, every time some negative news from anywhere in the world comes winging around the internet, and they type it into their ideas about when and what the end of the world will be. And beloved, this is a boom time for them.

We live in a world that in the last one hundred years has seen the wholesale slaughter of millions – and that’s good fodder. When the Twin Towers fell, the websites were flush with Messiah spottings. The earthquake in Haiti last year – oh yes, it made it onto these websites. In fact, there’s relatively little that goes on the world that doesn’t make it as evidence of Jesus’ return. The only thing they’re really lacking is evidence of a really nice persecution.

Although it’s not for lack of trying. Someone suggests trying to remove the words “under God” from the American pledge of allegiance, and it’s irrevocable evidence of the oppression of Christian faith. A mosque is built in a city somewhere, and President Obama is the new Nero, and Christians are going to be burned for going to church. And don’t even ask me what the people who run these websites think of Canada. Let’s just say that if they’re right, we’re all in deep trouble up here.

When I read these things, I think – dear Lord, I understand fires. I understand earthquakes. I understand wars. Even plagues. But plagues of idiots? I mean, really.

Jesus and the disciples stand looking at the walls of the temple. They’re huge; tens of feet high, brightly decorated, and adorned with works of art. The Temple they look at is a testament of greatness; though not built by Solomon, nor by Josiah. The Temple they stand to look at was being built by Herod, who sought a civic monument to rival that of Rome. The young countrypeople travelling with Jesus cant’ stop talking about how great the Temple is.

And Jesus tells them the plain truth: all things made by human hands will be destroyed. But the people don’t really want to hear that; they want assurances of their own supremacy and constancy; evidence that they will survive for many long years. It’s a time of uncertainty, of military occupation, and the Temple is the only evidence they have that they may still be a sovereign state.

But Jesus doesn’t even give them that. Does he tell them that life is only going to get worse? No, not really. He tells them that life is going to stay pretty much the same. Wars, rebellions, earthquakes, plagues, famines, mysterious things in the sky. This is not new! They already live in a world in which all these things happen. They happen because fundamentally, human beings don’t get along with each other. We are frail, we get sick. When we are frightened of things we don’t understand, we try to explain them using whatever means are at our disposal.

Often, like the people around Jesus, we think that following him means that we can find a cushy little spot to call our own. Like somehow the name of Jesus is a blanket that we can pull over our ears to insulate us from our fears and from the stinky reality of life. If we trust in Jesus, that little voice thinks, then nothing bad will ever happen to us.

Can you imagine the surprise of Jesus’ listeners when he continues? Think of it: “…okay, so all these bad things are going to happen. It’s going to be terrible, lightning, thunder, wars, rebellions, Lady Gaga…just awful. But wait, wait: I left something out. Before these things happen, guess what? You’re going to be dragged out into the public places, mocked, tried, and killed.”

I sometimes wonder if the crowd that hangs around Jesus ever actually listens to him; or if they’re like my confirmation class. Yada, yada, yada. Is he done talking yet? But that’s what Jesus promises: You want to follow me? Don’t expect life to be different. If anything, expect it to be harder.

But also know this: I. won’t. leave. You.

I will give you words.

I will walk with you when you are hated and despised.

I will speak for you when you are silent before your accusers.

I will be your family after they have left you.

And I will do this because I have walked that walk before you.

And because I know what it’s like, I know how it ends.

Your end is eternal life.

But what does that really mean for us? Do we honestly need a religion that tells us that life is poo, get used to it, it gets better in the end? NO!! But even that is better than one who tells us that if we do everything right, nothing bad is ever going to happen to us.

God does so more than that. This world is broken – and it’s been broken for a long, long time. It’s broken because, deep down, we like it broken, because then we can claim the ability to make our own destinies, or our own successes. But sometimes, our own carefully fabricated world comes crashing down around our ears in the sheer cursed randomness of the universe, we are left wondering why we are on this earth.

We live on this earth. But we yearn, we long for the one to come.

For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth;

The former things shall not be remembered, or come to mind.

But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating;

For I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight.

I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people;

No more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime…before they call, I will answer, while they are yet speaking, I will hear.

Look around you. There are signs of the dawning of God’s kingdom all around us. We often look for the bad, but we overlook so much of the good.

Natural disasters happen, and thousands of people open their hearts to help.

For every two people who scream war, there are a thousand voices that shout for peace.

For every screech of false persecution there is an answering call of lived discipleship that shows Christianity as so much more than an empty shell of a once-great religion.

And for every eye that seeks the crises that foreshadow the coming of the end, there are people who see Christ present, here and now, in each other.

The kingdom of God is at the same time here, and now, but just not yet. We take water, bread, and wine – and with nothing but the promise of Christ with us dare to come together as a community and proclaim the Living God.

There are so many things that surround us, and fill us with joy and delight –

For we have the burble and coo of babies, and the wise presence of our elders.

We have the vitality of our youth, the promise of our young families. We have a unique problem with our Sunday school. Do you know what that is?

We have too many students. We don’t have enough teachers. We can probably use a staffed nursery, and don’t have one, yet. Our problems are those of abundance, not of scarcity.

We have so much of God’s kingdom right here with us, and yet we don’t always see it in front of us, because we’re looking around and waiting for the nasty stuff to happen.

The world around us is at the same time frightening and uncertain, and a joy and a delight. God is faithful to God’s own promises, in God’s own time. Our time is for life, for endurance, and for joy.

You have the promise of God – not a hair of heads will perish. So live. Come to the table today, and feast. Join this community of promise and salvation, and proclaim the kingdom of God. Christian life is abundant life, not scarce or rationed.

Surely God is your salvation; trust and do not be afraid.

The Lord God is your strength and might, and has become your salvation.

Draw water with joy from the wells of salvation,

Say in that day “give thanks to the Lord!”

Sing aloud, and shout for joy, O my royal people,

For great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.

Let the people of God say, amen.

Sunday October 3

Grace, and peace to you from God our heavenly Father and our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

There is a lot throughout the entire lectionary lessons for today – in Lamentations we heard the prophet’s anguish at the exile of Judah, in a series of verse that often mimic the same shame and suffering that churches experience in their own stresses, when they imagine that God is testing them, too.

In the second lesson we find Paul’s words of encouragement to the young pastor Timothy, reminding him that faith is both a gift, and a heritage.

But in the gospel lesson for today, we hear hard words from Jesus – not the kind of ‘feel-good’ words that we like to hear, with a lot of encouragement and kind words, but instead a simple statement of expectation: we have done only what we ought to have done.

In the midst of this today we also celebrate the sacraments of the church: the baptism of Morgan Ruth Macintyre, and we gather at the table of the Lord where Christ himself is both host, and food. Both of those sacraments centre around death, and new life.

And it makes me wonder, sometimes, when we’re so busy, how we take the time to develop our understanding of how what we read in the bible relates to these visual elements of worship.

Today I feel a little bit divided – on one hand, I’m the proud father of a baby girl who’s going to be baptized today, on the eve of the 29^th anniversary of my own baptism. She’ll be washed, cleansed, and brought to new life through the water and God’s redeeming Word.

On the other hand, I’m the pastor who’s going to kill her. Not just figuratively, because if the death of a sinful self is merely figurative in baptism, then there’s no point. Then it’s just an empty ritual. But I will literally pour the water over her head that will kill her old self, her primal sinful nature, and Christ will raise her again.

And all these things that are placed around the font signify just that. The water by which God’s Word will accomplish its task. The little white cloth that looks so cute when drying off her head is, in fact, a burial garment. It is linen to wrap a dead body in.

And the Christ candle is lit today. The apostle John wrote in his gospel, “in Jesus was life, and the life was the light of all people…the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” The Christ candle is a visible reminder to all of us today of our baptismal day. It’s lit specifically for Morgan today, and the only other time that it is lit just for her is a day that I hope and pray that I will never see – because that will be the day of her funeral. The light shines in the darkness.

And here today, like Paul commends to Timothy, are her mother and her grandmother. Like I said, I feel divided today, because of my dual role here, but her grandmother is her baptismal sponsor, and I feel confident that if Diana and I were to shirk our responsibilities to the vows we make as her parents, her grandmother would see to it they were fulfilled. After all, she did a fairly good job with her own children, and she is also Diana’s baptismal sponsor.

Paul writes: I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice, and now, I am sure, lives in you.

That’s a pretty monumental statement to make, because it completely cuts out of the role of Sunday School, catechism class, or for that matter the sermon, in helping your faith. Because what Paul is saying is that faith is caught, not taught. The opposite of faith is not, in fact, doubt – but rather certainty. You cannot have faith in what you know for certain; but faith exists to give us the conviction of truth in things that we cannot see. So, it’s both gift and heritage; it’s caught, not taught.

Think of the person who was the most formational in your faith. It may in fact be a pastor, but more than likely it’s a family member or a friend who showed you, by example, what it meant to be Christian. And you know what? Chances are, they didn’t do it because they felt they had do, but rather because they believed that sharing faith simply ought to be done. Not for rewards or accolades in heaven, but simply because it’s what you do.

When we talk of baptism – and I encourage each of you to turn in your hymnals to page 1165, just to see – we teach the death of the old self, and new birth through Jesus Christ. But that doesn’t make us naturally any better. There’s an old wives’ tale that suggested that child needed to cry at their baptism because that way you’d know the devil was being driven out. That’s wrong. No devil is driven out. But in a way, faith is driven in.

After Morgan is baptized I will anoint her with oil, and mark on her forehead the sign of the Cross of Jesus Christ with the words, “Child of God, you are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” Our Lutheran understanding of the role of the Holy Spirit is that it is the Spirit that brings faith. Look at the Small Catechism’s explanation of the 3^rd Article of the Apostle’s Creed.

For Morgan, faith will come as a gift, without even knowing it’s been given. Because of that, it becomes very easy for us to ignore or neglect our own faith, and instead trust ‘professionals’ to do the job in Sunday School or at confirmation.

But the truth is, Morgan will not get taught faith from me as her pastor. I’m not a particularly gifted teacher. But, like every other Christian parent who bears the same responsibilities, she will learn faith – catch it – from me as her father, and from her mother, from her grandparents, and from you. Not by accident, but by intent. Because it is simply what ought to be done.

The markings of that ‘sinful nature’ that is destroyed in baptism will never fully leave us alone. Martin Luther (from whom the Lutheran tradition takes it name) once described original sin – or if you prefer, the dominant sin – using a word that simply meant “inward-curving”.

Basically, we can never keep the first commandment – you will have no other gods before me – because we want to be god in God’s place. Our own selfish desires will almost always take first place in our lives, until we relax and let the gospel work in our lives as it ought to.

A lot of pastors and theologians who have never been parents don’t like original sin because they prefer the idea that babies like Morgan are innocent. But let me put it this way: if Morgan were innocent, she would simply trust that all her needs are going to be filled for her, that she will be fed, clothed, changed, and loved. She would never cry, because she would live by absolute trust. She would know for certain that her needs would be met; she would have no need for faith.

But instead, she is blessed with a nasty little suspicious mind. She is convinced that we don’t love her, or even know she’s there unless she yells at us. Our lives are controlled by a 8-pound, 6-ounce tyrant. And we’re fine with that.

Because, in the same way that our heavenly Father forgives us, nurtures us, and looks after us, we forgive, nurture, and care for Morgan. Not because we have to do it but because it’s what is to be done. It’s a responsibility that we welcome gladly and accept joyfully.

Grace is poured out upon all of us at our baptism; it is renewed daily when we rise in the morning, and made visible through the sacraments of the church. Tradition and superstition make them into much, much, more than they actually are.

Today, through plain water and the Word of God, Morgan will be reborn a child of God. It’s not holy water; it’s from the tap. It’s the Word spoken with it that makes it a baptism.

Today, through bread and wine, you will receive the forgiveness of your sins. There are only two things to remember when you come to table: that this is the forgiveness of what you’ve done wrong, and secondly, that it is for you. The youngest children understand that. As we become adults and expect rites of passage and stern requirements, it’s easy to lose that – in fact, the church lost that for a number of centuries. But it is a meal for all who hunger for the bread of life, and thirst for the cup of salvation. You learned that through watching your own parents, your elders, partake in the meal.

As you come for communion today, I encourage you to dip your fingers in the water in the font, and connect yourself back to your own baptism. Trace the sign of the cross on your forehead, and give thanks that your baptism connects you to this table, not because you are worthy, or work hard enough, but because God adores you.

For we will see today that Christ loves Morgan Ruth so much that he died for her to bring her to new life. To find her, redeem her, and make her holy. As she is united with Christ in a death like his, she will one day be united with him in resurrection.

You are baptized. You are fed. You are adored. The faith that you have is both gift, and heritage – always remember this: you are the blessings your ancestors prayed for. You have only done what you ought to have done – you have lived your faith.

Amen.

Sunday September 26

There once was a man in a land of winter who bought a fine, new coat. It was beautiful, and wonderfully warm, and the man would bundle himself in it whenever he set out, and he was proud of his wonderful coat.

One day the sun had an argument with the cold north wind. They wanted to see who was the most powerful, and they decided to settle their score over the man with the new coat.

Whoever got the man to shed his coat and give it to another person would be declared the most powerful.

So the cold north wind prepared himself, and began to blow. He blew icicles in the air and snow across the ground, and he tried to blow that fine coat right off the man. But the man stubbornly pulled his coat tighter about him, pulled up the collar, and huddled against the wind. Around him, people were shivering and dying of cold, but the man walked on.

Then it was the sun’s turn. And the north wind stopped blowing. And the sun came out, and smiled at the man.

And as the sun smiled, it became warmer, and the man took off his coat. As he kept walking, the coat became heavier and hotter on his arm. Seeing a small boy who was still shivering, he gave the little boy his coat.

(pause)

How do you determine what your life is worth? If you were to break your body down into its component elements, its total value would about $4.50. Are you worth more than that?

Close to two thousand years ago, a physician sat down to write a book. He had been very successful and was well learned. Then, as now, physicians were respected, usually attached to centres for learning. But this doctor was different. He gave up everything he had, and went to follow a man he had met.

That man we know as the apostle Paul, and his doctor friend was Luke, the compiler of the book that bears his name. Why Luke left his position and his home to follow Paul on one knows. But, if you consider how we today would treat a doctor who left a thriving practice – not to do something really attention grabbing, like going on a mission to Africa – but to follow a homeless itinerant preacher, you might get a feeling of what it cost Luke to follow.

Luke’s gospel today is all about finding a life worth living; a love worth finding. True, this passage is all about money – but it’s also about much, much, more than money.

There’s a rich man. And I mean VERY rich. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t even feel a twinge of remorse when he steps over the prostrate body of Lazarus. After all, he’s rich and famous, and Lazarus is a nobody. He owns his hard-earned money, so why share it with some lazy man who won’t even get up off his duff and get a job?

On the other side is Lazarus. He’s a beggar, the lowest of the low. Filthy, covered in sores and stinking rags, nobody notices him. At least, nobody worth mentioning. The rich man has his parties and shares with others who, like him, are deserving. But Luke reveals that, in fact, Lazarus is noticed, and in a big way.

Perhaps as a way of illustrating that Lazarus’ suffering was a way of preparing him for eternal life, when he dies he is welcomed into the arms of Abraham – but the rich man dies and goes into eternal torment. And the rich man, understanding that he cannot be freed from the consequences of his actions, begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers’ houses, so that they won’t suffer the same fate.

But Abraham won’t let him, telling him that they do have the Law and the Prophets – the bible of the day. The rich man replies, “but if someone shows up from the dead, they’ll really listen!” And Luke records a nice bit of foreshadowing when he replies, “if they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone rises from the dead.”

(hint: he’s talking about Jesus. And how we respond [or not] to the words of the One who is risen from the dead).

The point of Jesus’ story is not to shake his finger at those who are financially well off – but also note, that to Jesus, wealth is not a blessing. To Christ, being poor is a blessing, because there is less distraction in life. It is easier to really – in the words of Paul – take hold of the life that is really life – apart from the distractions that wealth provides. That’s why so many of Jesus’ parables tell of selling all that we have, in order to follow.

But remember: this story is also about much, much, more than money. It’s about the law, and about the gospel.

The Law is always conditional: it uses words like should, and if. The rich man wants Lazarus to tell his brothers, “you should give more generously to the poor if you want to go to heaven.”

But the problem with the law is that it’s hungry. You’re never doing enough. The rich man’s brothers could reply, “yah, I put an extra twenty in the plate at church. I’m doing enough, aren’t I?” And the law then condemns: no, you’re not. Do better. Do more, or else.

But the gospel is stated fact. It uses words like because, and therefore.

“Because you are saved by Jesus Christ, therefore you live lives that store up for yourselves a treasure for the future.

The Law makes salvation our responsibility. The Gospel makes it a gift to us.

Remember the story of the north wind and the sun? The north wind is the Law. It wants to get its way by force, by coercion, and we respond by buttoning up our coats more tightly and ignoring what’s going on around us. We forge blindly forward, not seeing that wrapping ourselves in our protective surroundings merely insulates us from real life.

The sun is the gospel. When the gospel shines on us, when we feel the gospel in our lives, then we are blessed to be a blessing to others. Those wrappings that protect and insulate us from the world are shed. We share freely, and act in ways that benefit our neighbours and our community.

Because we are sinful people, we are always more prone to feeling the sting of the law than the comfort of the gospel. Paul wrote to Timothy what was to become one of the most-misquoted lines of Scripture: the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Our conscience wants to wiggle out of it: “I don’t love money, but I enjoy its benefits,” and too often we stop there, with the Law.

The gospel is the verses that follow.

People of God, pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness. Take hold of eternal life, not because if you do so will be blessed; but because Christ called you.

Be blessed to be a blessing to others. Take hold of the promises of God, and let go of the law and idols that hold you here. Dare to take hold of the life that really is life, to see as your Saviour sees – every child of God, every blessing in struggle and pain, every joy in every moment of your life.

Because your Saviour called you, and watches and waits for you.

And the Son smiles on you, for no other reason that you are a beloved child.

Amen.