I was Ordained in April 1985 and tomorrow will be the first Sunday since that day that I have not gone to church.  This storm better be as real as the forecasters are predicting.  I worry though that sometimes they get all excited about the possibility of the biggest storm.  They take out their fancy interactive maps, computer models and graphics, they get ready for outdoor shots with the wind blown snow battering the poor reporter, and they act like New Englanders have never survived a foot of snow before.  And then we're hit with something less.  But in the interest of safety, we have cancelled our Sunday Service for tomorrow, January 20th.    

But we can survive, all is not lost.  We can still give a Sunday morning hour to Jesus anyway.  This Sunday remains the Sunday within the "Week of Prayer for Christian Unity," which is a program of the World Council of Churchs, and the UCC is one of those churches.  I think its purpose is evident.
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Here are the prayers that we could have shared in together tomorrow.  Maybe we can offer them up in our own homes, but still together in spirit:

And here is the sermon that I would have liked to share with you in person:

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps. 19:14)

This is the Sunday within the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  This is a worldwide event called annually by the World Council of Churches, and the United Church of Christ is a member of this ecumenical organization.  This year’s theme is "Justice, and only justice, you shall pursue ..." from the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy. 

I imagine that the word justice sounds good and pleasing to everyone, but I imagine as well that the definition of justice could lead to all sorts of arguments.  There are law and order proponents of justice.  There are social activist proponents of justice.  I dare not even talk about the definition of justice here in church when it comes to the particulars of, for example, The Wall because it is so divisive that it could actually harm the congregation. 

This same separation of word and definition comes into play when we talk about unity.  What does Christian unity mean?  Well, one thing is for sure, unity does not mean the same thing as uniformity.  In other words, we don’t have to all be the same for unity to be real.

That amazing first-generation Christian by the name of Paul makes this perfectly clear.  He lays the foundation for Christian unity by emphasizing the diversity of gifts that the one Holy Spirit shares among believers. 

Jeff read these words for us today:  “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.”

Unity may actually be opposed to uniformity.  Unity is the profound appreciation for a deep connection that is not marred by lesser differences.  Look at the change in your pockets.  You’ll see there the old motto of the United States:  e pluribus, unum, which is Latin for “out of the many, one.”  Unity is not destroyed by diversity.  I would even say that it’s made stronger.

Hitler talked about a thousand-year reign for his pure Aryan race.  He never even made ten years before the world united to destroy his hatred, but the diversity of “out of the many, one” is still here and is still inspiring. 

Or take today’s Gospel story of Jesus at the wedding feast in Cana.  So many wedding couples choose to have Pacabel’s Canon played on their big day, but this piece probably would not be a cellist’s first choice of favourites.  It’s basically one line repeated forever. 

If you get the chance, watch The Piano Guys’ YouTube video of playing Pacabel’s Canon at a wedding.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LV5_xj_yuhs. 

The cellist falls asleep while playing this piece as the processional because it’s boring for him.  Then he has this dream of being able to play something much more exciting where the cello’s part is vibrant and changing.  Toward the end of the video he wakes up from his daydream and everyone is staring at him.  He shakes off the sleep and starts playing that one melody all over again and the wedding procession resumes.

Diversity makes music appealing.  The same note, the same phrase played continuously is just noise, not music.  It’s the diversity that holds a composition together.
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So Jesus is at this wedding feast in Cana.  It’s still a wedding even if Pacabel’s Canon isn’t being played.  I’ve seen a cartoon that says, “Jesus helps throw a party for a few people and the world’s still talking about it 2,000 years later.”  But Jesus really did save that party.

He’s there with His friends, and His friends are a different lot.  We don’t know much about the disciples, but what we do know tells us that Jesus attracted a group of followers that otherwise would have little to do with each other.

Simon is sometimes called the zealot, a fervent nationalist, a hater of all things Roman.  Matthew is a tax collector for the Romans.  These are as unlikely friends as Donald Trump and Elizabeth Warren.  But they’re sitting together at the wedding with Jesus.

Peter and Andrew are brothers, and so are James and John.  Both sets of brothers are fishermen on the Sea of Galilee.  Did they get along as toilers of the same hard profession, or were these two families competing against each other?  We don’t know, but they’re together at table with Jesus.

Philip and Nathanael are friends and they may both hail from the village of Bethsaida.  There seems to be a tradition of tension between Bethsaida and Jesus’ hometown.  When Philip tells his buddy Nathanael about Jesus, Nathanael’s immediate response is:  “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  And yet, the two of them are at the wedding in Cana with Jesus of Nazareth.

Those first followers were a diverse group, but that very same diversity may have made them strong enough to outlast the threats and turmoil that tried to destroy Christianity before it really got started. 
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Each of the disciples was different.  They probably heard Jesus differently.  And eventually, they preached Jesus differently.  

One of the things we talk a lot about at Bible study group is that the biblical writers approach Jesus from their own perspective.  The Jesus we see in John’s Gospel, for example, is definitely not the same Jesus that Paul preaches.  And yet it is all of those different voices that come together to form our one Bible about our one Saviour.  Their diversity makes their witness stronger.

Or think about our church here.  Paul spoke about a diversity of gifts all flowing from the same Spirit and for the common good.  Think about how many people fit into the different necessary slots of our congregation to make it work. 

One person is gifted with the ability to serve as a Trustee, another on Benevolence, another as a Deacon, another in the choir, another in the Sunday School, another among Real Folks, another as a Steward, another at meals, another as greeter, and so on. 
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All of these diverse gifts, says Paul, are shared by the same Spirit for the common good of building the church of Christ.  When we meet for our Annual Meeting [now next Sunday], don’t think about that gathering as only about money, reports and vacancies.  We gather for the common good and the Spirit will be there to share God’s gifts with us.  We may not think that we’re up to the work of this or that church position, but maybe the Spirit thinks differently.  Trust in the Spirit.  We don’t do church work on our own – ever.

And in closing, on this Sunday within the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, lets remember that unity is not uniformity, that the differences among denominations are not about right or wrong, better or worse.  Those differences help to make the church stronger so that all people may find the particular home where they may worship most comfortably and effectively, but all of that worship glorifies God and hopefully inspires us.
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Let’s celebrate our Christian diversity and our Christian unity, and for this may we pray in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Enjoy the snowday, but try and find some Sabbath time for Jesus.
​Rev. Randy

There are these everywhere-present quantum fields, for example, and they move like waves, like a fluid, and these fluid-fields are all around us.  We are passing through and interacting with them right now without even noticing, and these fields become the building blocks of stuff when they’re agitated in just the right ways.

That’s the amazing insight of Einstein that stuff is just another form of energy.

The math and science behind some of these weird ideas are currently beyond human understanding, even the understanding of a scientist who teaches at Cambridge University in England. 
 
As an example of this, he showed a video image of a super computer’s animation of the activity of the quantum fields inside a small vacuum of space.  It was churning and changing constantly.  Particles were coming into existence out of nothing and disappearing just as quickly back into nothing.  And that’s all in empty space, a vacuum. 

But even in emptied space, the quantum fields that are still there take a supercomputer to figure out what’s going on.  Imagine, he then asked, how complicated it is to do the same equations with stuff inside the box, and then what if that box was the size of the universe.

And he was all excited.  He was excited about what was known, but he seemed even more excited about what was not yet known, what was yet out there to be discovered, about the possibility of one of those “aha moments” when the light goes on and something is seen for the very first time.

He was all excited about the process, not only the answers, but the process.  He was giddy over the thought that the next answer would be closer to the truth. 

I think that’s why I like science even though I can’t do the science. 

If I had one bedrock complaint about religion, it’s that too often religion forgets or dismisses the excitement, the challenge and the purpose of discovering something new.  We think truth is already found and explained, and all religion has to do is repeat it. 

Well, that gets boring real fast.

Then, religion can become lifeless, or at least not a part of my life.  It’s somebody else’s era, somebody else’s questions, somebody else’s answers, somebody else’s “aha moment.” 

And we can forget that we’re supposed to be seekers.  Each one of us.  That’s why I’ve always found a great deal of inspiration in Isaiah’s words that Marcia read for us today:  “I have called you by name, you are mine”  This passage was one of my own “aha moments” when I felt Jesus talking to only me.  Faith is meant to be deeply and intensely personal, a first-name basis with God, a relationship of on-going discovery.

And of course there are more “aha moments” waiting for each of us.  The physicist in Cambridge was trying to understand creation and was baffled.  We’re looking beyond that creation for the Creator. 

The physicist was all excited about discovering the mysteries of the world around us.  We’re looking at that and the world beyond our world.  How have we let this become dull and predictable? 

In last Sunday’s newspaper, in Parade Magazine, famous people were asked how they spend their Sundays.  Mark Hamill talked about a more elaborate breakfast; Matt Damon about sports with his father; Caitriona Balfe, maybe you know who she is, talked about breakfast but then being dragged off to church; John Legend spoke about relaxing with family; Meredith Vieira about walking along the Hudson River; J.K. Simmons loved sleeping in and then exercising.  Nobody spoke about Sunday and church in a good way except Tyler Perry, and his was only in the past tense.

How come breakfast and sleep, exercise and conversation are exciting, but God on a first-name basis can become dull?

So Jesus of Nazareth is about 30 years old.  He’s the son of a carpenter and He’s a carpenter Himself.  Something is gnawing at His soul.  He’s searching for something, but not sure what.  He leaves His family, community and business behind and walks some 90 miles by Himself. 

He’s looking for John the Baptist. 

Jesus accepts baptism from John.  It was a profound moment for Jesus.  Luke says Jesus is in prayer and all of a sudden it was like the heavens opened. 

This is Luke’s depiction of Jesus’ “aha moment.”  Jesus realizes that He is God’s beloved Son.  This is His moment of discovery.  Jesus is not the same anymore. 

This is new, and Jesus is changed by it.  Not changed as in becoming something He wasn’t before, that would deny the whole beautiful and powerful message of Christmas, but changed in the sense that He now knew better who He was.

He discovered something about Himself and His first-name relationship with God. 

When scientists make a discovery, they’re not changing creation, they’re getting to know it better.  That’s what’s happening at Jesus’ baptism.  

But sometimes I hear religion trying to make this boring, that Jesus is only giving us an example to follow when He accepted baptism, that it wasn’t all that surprising or inspiring for Him, that He already knew fully who He was and was only waiting for the right time to give us an example to follow.

Why do we do these things?  Why is religion afraid of a Jesus who has “aha moments”?  And why don’t we better encourage our own “aha moments” when it comes to faith? 

We don’t need to be afraid of questions.  We need to be afraid of being afraid to ask questions, as if our faith wasn’t strong enough to handle them. 

This is where discoveries are born.  This is when we can approach closer to truth.

Faith is exciting.  The perfect God is calling us somewhere and that somewhere is yet to be discovered.  Church can be a part of this spiritual journey.  I hope it is. 

That Cambridge scientist was seeking, but his journey was moved forward by those who came before him, and also those who worked with him.  Our faith, our spiritual journey, also needs those who came before us and those around us, and that’s church. 

Let’s be seekers.  Let’s realize that God has called us by name.  And let’s look for our “aha moments” when we discover what being this close to God means, and let's walk that journey together.  For this may we pray in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

So I enjoy music, but I can’t do music.  I can’t remember if I’ve shared this story with you, but Sharon and I met each other at a church youth gathering at the University of Maryland.  I was the chaplain and Sharon’s college roommate was the chairperson of the event.  A Christian rock band was hired to perform.  That’s pretty upbeat, energetic music, and everyone was clapping along to the beat of the songs.

I can’t hear the beat of music, but I’m also out with Sharon on one of our first ever dates so I can’t let her see that I’m soooo uncool that I can’t even clap my hands right.  Out of the corner of my eye, I have to watch when she claps to know when I’m supposed to clap to keep the beat.

But I still try at music.  We have a piano at home and I’ll tinker a bit now and then.  When my daughter Amanda was a lot younger and before school-sports stole her away from piano, she took lessons and played at recitals. 

I remember practicing Beethoven’s Fur Elise.  It’s melodic and rather simple.  I thought I was playing it pretty well.  Then I go to Amanda’s recital and some little kid, without any music even in front of him, plays it like he’s Beethoven himself.  That was the end of me practicing Fur Elise.  Fur Elise - forget it.
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And this kid is nothing compared to the young prodigies I hear on the radio on Saturdays on a program called From the Top.  They travel all over the place to give these young musicians a chance to share their talents.  It’s just not fair how gifted these kids are and no amount of practicing on my part is ever going to help me be anywhere near as accomplished as they already are. 

 Today we hear again from the Gospel of Luke.  Luke is the Evangelist who is very concerned with the theme of continuity.  His Gospel begins in the Jerusalem Temple when Zechariah the priest is told by an angel that his wife Elizabeth will bear a son, and that this son will share the spirit and power of Elijah, the great Jewish prophet. 

When Jesus is eight days old, as Luke tells us, the Holy Family takes Him to the same Jerusalem Temple and there they perform the traditional Jewish religious rites for a first-born male child.  Jesus is the continuation of God’s revelation among the Jewish people.  The Holy Family is keeping the religious traditions of their people.  Jesus is being raised intentionally Jewish.

Today’s Gospel begins with the description that “every year [Jesus’] parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover,” and that now Jesus is twelve years old.  This is the last year of Jesus’ childhood.  At 13, a young Jewish boy is recognized as a man.  In the eyes of the Temple teachers, Jesus is a child.  And yet there He is listening to Jerusalem’s most distinguished religious leaders and teachers, and asking them questions.
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He’s like those kids on From the Top.  Jesus is a spiritually gifted child that not even the well-practiced leaders of the Temple could match no matter how much it must have infuriated them.   

This is the only biblical story that we have of Jesus as a young person.  We have a couple of Christmas stories, and except for this one story of Jesus at twelve, we don’t hear anything else of Jesus until He’s about ready to begin His public ministry.  

And this story is told only by Luke because of his particular interest in continuity.  How did Jesus move from being raised devoutly Jewish to next being seen out in the wilderness with that unorthodox, rabble-rouser John the Baptist who has turned away from a life as a Temple priest?

Well, it didn’t come about suddenly.  It was a slow progression, and Jesus’ example is always an example for us.  This is where that well-known aphorism, that four-word phrase comes from:  What would Jesus do?  Jesus, Luke tells us, was learned and Jesus was listening, but Jesus was also asking questions. 

When we hear the later-in-life stories about Jesus, He has remained committed to His Jewish faith.  He has been keeping His Jewish traditions and practices – but not blindly.  Those questions of the 12-year-old boy led Jesus to delve deeper into His faith.  They prodded Him forward. 

They remained and led Him out into the wilderness seeking direction from John the Baptist.  They then drove Him alone into the desert to search His soul.  And when He re-emerges from those 40 days, Jesus has a new and intimate vision of a personal, approachable and compassionate God.

Jesus kept-up His openness to God’s continuing revelation.  There’s the remarkable story of Jesus’ encounter with the foreign woman who Jesus dismisses at first as not His concern.  Then her tenderness and sincerity awoke Jesus to a greater understanding of His ministry and life.  He was sent to all people whomever they may be. 
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Even at the end of His life, questions remained.  He struggled with God in the Garden of Gethsemane.  He yelled to heaven from the cross, “My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?”  Questions were always there, but they weren’t asked in isolation.  They were always asked from a position of relationship.  

Jesus wasn’t asking questions about the void from the void.  He wasn’t unsatisfied because He felt isolated from God.  He was driven by His passion to better know the God that always felt so near and so powerful in His life. 

What drove Him to ask these questions was the deep and abiding presence of God within and around Him.  Jesus wasn’t satisfied with the old answers, so He asked questions not as a sign of faithlessness, but as a passion to better understand the presence of God that surrounded Him.

And since Jesus’ life is an example for our lives, let’s try and make some spiritual New Year’s resolutions that help us to grow closer to God. 

Questions are not the enemy of faith.  Questions can be the doorway into a deeper faith.  They can be calling us out to discover the hidden mystery that is Jesus’ life with and within us. 
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So let’s close with words that Linda read for us from Paul’s Letter to the Colossians:  “Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”  May this be a part of our New Year’s resolutions, in Jesus’ name we pray.  Amen.

 “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

Today Advent is coming to a close and it closes with a message of joy.  That joy is obvious.  It comes across in a children’s Christmas pageant.  It comes across in so much beautiful music.  I don’t know of any other holiday that comes near the amount of music that Christmas inspires. 

It comes across in generosity whether that be gift-giving to ones we love or charity to ones we may never know.  It comes across in random acts of kindness.  People are gentler at this time of the year. 

I had to do a little grocery shopping this past Thursday.  The supermarket was crowded.  I was heading down one aisle and they were stocking the shelves.  There was only enough room for one cart to get by.  Me and this complete stranger were stuck there facing each other.  Not because we wouldn’t budge and had to be first, but because we both kept insisting that the other person go first.

Christmas joy is found in our readiness to be credulous, to having a greater willingness to believe.  At other times of the year we can be calculating, but at Christmas we want to believe in the good.  It may not last long, but it’s wonderful while it lasts. 
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A friend once gave me a copy of a book about the World War I Christmas truce.  That was a war where enemies were within shouting distance of each other.  On Christmas Eve, as both sides heard the other singing Christmas carols, they laid aside their weapons and they celebrated together, in the no-man's land between them, if only for a while.  Christmas can do stuff like that.  It can make us believe in the better parts of our human nature.  And that’s a sure source of joy.

So there are signs of Christmas joy all around us.  It’s obvious.  But for as obvious as that joy is, the reason is anything but obvious.  Carol read for us from the prophet Micah.  The Messiah is going to come from the weakest of the twelve tribes of Israel. 
When Micah is preaching, everyone listening recognizes that Israel is not a powerful nation.  Then on top of that fact, Micah prophesies that from the weakest of this weak nation, God will send a Saviour for the world.  And as Micah says, “He shall be the one of peace.”  In other words, don’t be surprised when God surprises.  What seems all too obvious to us does not have to be so obvious to God.

Or think about Mary.  Why does God call upon this particular woman to be Jesus’ mother?  What stands out in the life of Mary that would make her the best choice for this unimaginable endeavour?  Nothing jumps out as obvious, but yet Mary is chosen by God. 

Mary travels to visit Elizabeth and this occasion gives rise to a hymn that has been known for centuries as the Magnificat, which comes from Mary’s first words of “My soul magnifies the Lord.” 

Why does she exult, what’s the reason for her profound joy?  It’s anything but obvious.  She's pregnant and unmarried at a time when this can be dangerous.  She rejoices in the promise that God:  “.. has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.  He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” 

She sees how revolutionary this birth is.  It’s anything but obvious, and she bursts out in song praising God with unmitigated joy because everything is going to change.  The obvious ways of the world are going to be reversed in this unexpected birth. 
The ones who don’t matter, are going to count.  The ones who are ignored, will be heard.  The ones pushed aside, are welcomed back.  The ones who have nothing, will not fear for themselves and their loved ones. Mary belonged to this damaged group, and she saw change coming, and she rejoiced. 

None of this was expected.  And it still isn’t.  And yet the joy is still with us.  Do you remember the Grinch standing way up on top of his mountain with all of his stolen decorations and presents?  He was so excited with the anticipation of hearing the crying and the wailing of all those Whos down in Whoville when they awoke to find not a single Christmas light, not a single Christmas present. 

But with sunrise all of them down at the bottom of the mountain began to sing.  They gathered around nothing and they sang so loudly and joyfully that their voices were heard by the Grinch:  “Christmas Day is in our grasp so long as we have hands to clasp.” 

And then the Grinch began to wonder how Christmas came without all of the obvious trappings of the season, and that’s when the Grinch realized that it came nonetheless.  The gift-giving and the decorating and the celebrations were all the obvious signs of Christmas joy, but the reason for the joy was completely unexpected. 
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Do you remember the star rising from out of the middle of that circle of Whos holding hands?  That’s the same message as the prophet Micah of the Saviour coming for all people because He would come from the weakest of the weak.  No one would be unable to connect with and share in His joy.  It wasn’t meant only for the rich, the powerful, the healthy, the happy.  The Saviour brought joy to everyone.
That’s the same message that sent Mary to sing God’s praises.  

These next couple of days are going to be busy and full of celebration.  But with all of this obvious joy that we should embrace, let’s also make time to remember the less than obvious reason for all of this joy, that strange birthday story of a child born  among us and as us. 

That’s today’s message of Advent joy and that’s the last step of preparation so that now we are ready for Christmas. 
In Jesus’ name we pray that the joy of this season may fill our hearts and our homes and remain with us as long as we can possibly hold on to its glorious promise.

Amen. 

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps. 19:14)

Preparing for Christmas can get confusing.  It can get confusing because a lot of people can think of it mostly in terms of presents and decorating.  Sharon and I still haven’t decorated our house for Christmas.  We’ve got a wreath on the front door facing the road so we’re hoping that if we keep the blinds drawn really tight that no one will notice that we’re not yet prepared. 

But how do you prepare?  The Season of Advent represents the long years during which the people of God waited for the coming of the Messiah, the Saviour. 
That expectation was still being preached by John the Baptist, and people were crowding around him, amazed at his message and his freedom.  John feared no one, not even the king.  He spoke with the assurance of God’s voice.

People, we hear in today’s Gospel, were filled with expectation.  They were hoping that John may be the long-awaited Messiah.

They heard his thunderous pronouncements against the enemies of God.  They heard that all who dared to stand in the way of God would be destroyed.  John preached:  “Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” 

He warned the people gathered around him in the desert that the world was going to be changed.  He spoke of those who would not repent, who would not come out into the desert wilderness, as the chaff that God would burn with unquenchable fire.

These were the expectations of the coming of God that filled people’s heart and minds with excitement.  They wanted God to intervene and right every wrong, and punish everyone who would not listen.  The coming of the Messiah was a fearful day for others, but one filled with justice for God’s chosen ones.
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And this message was being preached right up until the time of Jesus.  This is what the coming of the Saviour was supposed to mean.  This is how people thought you prepared for Christmas.  You waited for an angry God.

But the Saviour came to us in a surprising package.  He came to us in a humble, homeless child born in an animal’s stable to parents who were seeking to register as citizens of a foreign country.

He came to us with the lights of the Advent Wreath that are now burning.  The lights of hope and peace, and today, of love.  Even amidst all of these wondrous promises, love stands out.  Love is what most defines the coming of Christ. 

We prepare for Christmas by trying to ever better understand and practice this unexpected message of love.

I was reading a book the other day ofa year worth of sermons by Rev. Peter Gomes.  He was the chaplain of Harvard University’s Memorial Chapel.  And during one of his Advent sermons, he complained about Advent ideas turning into Advent ideals.

Ideals are perfect, and for Gomes that was the problem.  Christmas revealed a Saviour who didn’t come to impose the perfect on us, like John the Baptist was expecting and people were filled with expectation that he was the Messiah.  Christmas reveals a Saviour who brings wondrous ideas to us that we must choose to embrace and practice.

Remember that John the Baptist right up until the revelation of Jesus was preaching the dramatic intervention of an angry God.  Then Jesus comes as God’s perfect revelation and He does not force God upon any person.  Jesus offers God as the better alternative.  Jesus speaks of God’s love and asks us to love in turn.
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He died rather than turn away from this message.  That was Jesus’ unexpected revelation and it was about ideas.  It’s about us accepting those ideas and trying to live them and to change the world by them.

The problem with turning ideas into ideals is that we too quickly pass over the work we need to do. 

Think about the fact that Advent not only reminds us about the coming of Christmas.  It talks about Jesus coming again at the end-time with power and glory, and that Jesus will force the world to accept the ways of God or else.

That’s the same message of John the Baptist.  All we did is postpone it from the coming of Jesus at Christmas to the coming of Jesus at some point in the future.  That jumps right over the ideas of hope and peace and love, the three Advent candles already burning, and makes them into ideals that can only be forced upon us by God.

This is the opposite of what Jesus’ humble birth and peaceful life and loving message reveal.  It’s the opposite of Jesus inspiring us with the ideas of His gospel so that we work to make Christian love a reality, if even only in our own lives. 
Christmas is but a short few days away.  This is a time to celebrate.  But let’s not replace the reality of Christmas’ revelation of better ideas with the notion that God will do it all for us.

Paul told his church in the old Greek city of Philippi:  “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near.” 
The Lord is near.  That’s the wonder of Advent.  And may His nearness inspire us to live the ideas that Jesus lived perfectly, and even among those ideas of gentleness, hope and peace, love stands alone.  Love summarizes everything about Jesus.

On this Advent Sunday of Christian love, may this idea inspire us to work at giving it a real chance in our lives and in our world.  This is the revelation of God’s nearness that the Bethlehem birth reminds us of each year.
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May the fact that the Lord is near guide our preparations for Christmas as we strive to be a people of Christian love, and for this we pray in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Ps 19:14)

I think by now all of my co-workers know that I’m a pastor.  This past week three of us were chatting during some down time.  One of them starts to tell the story about things once being kind of rough in his life. 

He went down to the shore, he told the other two of us, and was walking along the beach thinking about his life.  He had a vision of two sets of footprints in the sand, one his own and one belonging to Jesus. 

I think you have an inkling of where his story was going.  So did I.  When you’re a pastor, people like to share these kinds of stories with you.

Then he continues telling his tale.  He told us that in his vision he saw that the two sets of footprints in the sand turned into only one during a particularly rough patch in his life.  In his vision, he turned to Jesus and asked why there was only that one set of footprints.  He said to Jesus, “I thought you would always be there for me.”  And again, I think you may have an inkling of where his story was going.  As did I. 
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But there was no climactic:  “When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you."  Instead, there was Jesus only saying, “Yeah, that was my bad.  I had a lot of things going on that day.  Sorry about that.”  Well, I didn’t see that ending coming of Jesus apologizing for not being there and letting the guy walk all by himself.  It took me by surprise, and that did make me smile.

Today is the First Sunday of Advent, and Advent is also all about surprises.  It’s the beginning of the church’s preparations for Christmas.  When all people of faith were expecting a powerful Saviour sent from heaven, God came down to earth instead in a Bethlehem manger.  During Advent, this is the surprise we anticipate, the coming of the Christ Child, and it begins with the message of hope not power. 

The Reopels lit the first candle of the Advent Wreath, the candle of hope.  Its light is not all that powerful.  It’s just a single candle burning.  Imagine if it were dark in here right now.  How much light could that one candle possibly share? 

Most all of us would be in the darkness.  But the thing is, even in the darkness, we would still be able to see its light, the light of hope.  And that’s what hope is all about.  Hope is not reality – yet.  Hope is our dreams, our expectations, what we would like to see.  Hope gives us the optimism to keep going, to keep working, to keep trying to make things better.  Hope is a beacon that draws us to its light.  It doesn’t settle for the way things are.  It gives us the strength to believe in what we can be.
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Power, on the other hand, forces itself upon us.  Hope changes us.  Power uses us.  Hope inspires us.  Power threatens us.  Hope makes us stronger.  Power is outside of us.  Hope is us.  It’s what we want to be, what we can be.  And that is so much more powerful than power.

The reason I shared that opening story of my co-worker is to get us thinking in surprising ways about the meaning of Advent, that we are preparing for Christ among us as one of us and what that says about us. 

The coming of Jesus into our world promises that Jesus is never absent.  He’s always near.  Advent’s surprise that can make us smile is that because Jesus is us, we can be like Jesus.

By my co-worker’s story that  I shared, I did not mean in any way to imply that Jesus is not there when we need Him most, but it is to tap into the surprise that when God comes to us as us, when God brings His holiness into the world in the ordinariness of human life, all of a sudden power is not what it used to be.  Now it’s hope.  Now there’s God revealing to us what we can be, what we can do.
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That’s the message I want to emphasize by the image of the lone set of footprints:  not abandonment, but trust.  Jesus trusts us.  He believes we can be better people.

I saw a bumper sticker the other day.  It said something like “If you think there’s too much hatred in the world, be a nicer person.”  We can look at the world and complain, or we can take the next step and be different than the world.  For that not to be simply naïve, we have to have hope, and hope comes from God.

I saw pictures the other day of the world leaders gathered for the Group of Twenty meeting.  There’s a lot of power in those people.  But I also saw the Saudi prince who our CIA believes ordered the murder and dismemberment of a journalist who was one of his own countrymen.  He’s most likely a murderer.  I’m sure he was dressed in the finest of clothes.  I’m sure he ate the finest of meals.  I’m sure he seemed so refined and dignified, but he’s most likely a murderer. 

We don’t have to fall for what the world elevates as important.  We can be different.  We can look past the glare of the world and look for the light of hope, a light that calls us to something different, a light that call us to make a difference, a light that calls us to be like Jesus. 
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Maybe all you’ll remember from today’s sermon is my co-worker’s story of Jesus’ “my bad,” but if you do, don’t think of it as Jesus forgetting about us and not being there, think of it as Jesus trusting us enough to believe in us. 
This is hope, and this is where we begin our Advent preparations for the coming of the Christ Child.  May His birth fill us with hope so that we can be different.  In Jesus’ name we pray.  Amen.

Here is the link to our Sunday Service on the Last Sunday after Pentecost: