Brand New

The advertisers' message to you is not Christ's message to you...

December 30, 2018—First Sunday after Christmas

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Psalm 147:13-21

Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

John 1:1-18

At this time of year advertisers take advantage of one tiny, three-letter word. During football games and holiday movies, in between basketball contests and reality TV dramas, marketing geniuses utilize one short word to captivate the masses. As we turn from 2018 to 2019 commercial creators everywhere are pushing new!

New year… new you.

While setting goals and intentions for our lives stands out as a particularly helpful practice, especially when taking on a Christian Rule of Life, the way we engage in New Year’s resolutions often creates more trouble than it solves. How many times has someone you’ve known—not you of course!—spent a bunch of money on a new exercise machine, handed over $19.95 per month for some new device to make life easier, or headed down to a giant home improvement store to buy a bunch of new storage containers to put all the new things just received at Christmas, and then within a few days that new thing, device, or system isn’t even used. Advertisers and their corporate partners have been taking advantage of our love of the new for as long as they have been around. But why?

Why do we love the new so very much? And, why do we keep falling for the same old New Year’s resolutions routine year in and year out? Let’s start with the latter. According to a report from Forbes back in 2013, only 8% of people keep their New Year’s resolutions.[1] 8%! Maybe you are an exception to this rule, but there’s a fundamental flaw in this practice of resolutions, and it goes back to the advertisers’ cry of “New year… new you!”

What the commercial geniuses want you to believe is that you in and of yourself are not enough AND they have the plan, the product, or the membership that is going to remedy you of whatever failings or foibles you have. Why do we keep falling for this each and every year? Because we actually have a deep desire within us to be made new. The problem is that we cannot do this by ourselves, nor can we buy, earn, or work our way into newness simply with the aid of something new on the market. This gets us back to why we love the new so much.

We love the new so very much primarily because we are always being made new! That’s right. Without any action on our part we are being made new. Don’t believe me? This second has never happened before. It’s brand new. And, everything that exists right now is being made anew each and every instant. And, what is more all that is being made and being made new came, comes, and will come into being not on its own but through God’s creative force. We in the Church call that force by many different names the Creator, the Christ, the Spirit, the Logos, the Word, the Light, and the Life—just to name a few.

So, we love newness precisely because God is constantly creating all things new. Our Gospel lesson for today rifts on the Genesis One Creation story in which God made all things in six days or ages (the Hebrew is a little unclear on the timeframe). After the first five creative intervals God called the created order “good,” then after the sixth day God called all things—including us human beings—“very good.” God’s creativity, God’s very creative act in and of itself is good. No wonder we love the new because when God made something new God made something good, even very good. Our retake on the Creation Narrative from John’s Gospel account only compounds our love for the new.

John’s creative song, which opens the Fourth Gospel account illuminates Christ’s presence from before the beginning of Creation. Christ was there before anything was made new. Christ was not only there but Christ was the creative force, the Word, the Logos that made all things new. Again, no wonder we love the new. Not only was Christ present in the beginning of all things, but Christ was also the way through which all things were made new. Then, at just the right moment God became human in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, who was the Christ. Why did this happen? To make all things new or rather to remind us that all things are constantly being made new.

Christ created, creates, and will create life, light, and love. This is what is being made at all times and in all places. This is the new creation that exists each and every day—if we would only recognize it. Of course, this is the challenge. Sure it sounds wonderful to see that God’s creativity always brings everything in the vast expanse of interstellar space into being; however, isn’t it easier to experience the new by just buying it? Isn’t it easier to feel new by getting some new diet, some new plan, some new membership? It might appear easier, but that’s not the truth—and it’s not what illuminates the life, light, and love that already exists.

This year as the world around us clamors for us to buy that new thing, John the Evangelist (our patron saint by the way) invites us to know what truly makes all things new. Christ who is life, light, and love, forever makes everything new, restored, and whole. Instead of making New Year’s resolutions, take on a practice to recognize Christ making you new now and always.

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[1] Dan Diamond, “Just 8% of People Achieve Their New Year's Resolutions. Here's How They Do It.” Published: January 1, 2013, Accessed: December 30, 2018. https://www.forbes.com/sites/dandiamond/2013/01/01/just-8-of-people-achieve-their-new-years-resolutions-heres-how-they-did-it/#85d8835596b2

This Day

December 24, 2018—Christmas I

Isaiah 9:2-7

Psalm 96

Titus 2:11-14

Luke 2:1-20

Michele Besso was born in Zurich, Switzerland in the late 19^th Century. If you don’t know who he is, that’s okay. I didn’t until last week. Besso went to school with Albert Einstein, imagine having Einstein as a classmate. After graduation Besso became an engineer and later worked in a patent office in Bern, Switzerland with you guessed it, Albert Einstein. Over the years, the two became good friends.

Besso grew into being Einstein’s sounding board. Whenever the once-in-a-generation physicist needed to talk about a particularly vexing problem, he would visit Besso. Not long before Einstein’s own death, his friend died. And, when he did Einstein wrote to Besso’s family. Part of the letter read: “Now he has departed this strange world a little ahead of me. That signifies nothing. For us believing physicists, the distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”[1] The distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion. In this note, Einstein hinted at a mystery we deal with every second of our lives.

As great a scientist as he was, Albert Einstein could never quite wrap his genius fully around the dilemma of time. I’m not saying he couldn’t read a clock, but scientifically explaining the flow of time and the meaning of the now escaped even this mastermind. Of course, he was in good company, as many great thinkers throughout the ages have been mystified by the fourth dimension. Take for example Saint Augustine, the early Christian theologian, who wrote, “What is time? If no one asks me, I know; if I wish to explain, I do not know. ... My soul yearns to know this most entangled enigma.” [2] Time is an odd concept. Just try to wrap your mind around the following…

At 11:18 AM on Wednesday, December 19^th I wrote these words that I am speaking right now, but I did so in the present moment (aka the now). So what I wrote and what I am speaking both happened in the now.[3] (Even if they were five and a half days apart.) Wild, right? If that’s not enough, try to solve this conundrum.

If the first three dimensions are length, width, and height, and time is simply the fourth dimension, how is it possible to stand still in space, but not time? I know it is approximately 11:18 PM—right now—and thinking about the time space continuum is difficult whatever time of day, still let me ask you one more annoying question about time: When was Christ born into this world?

On the surface this question appears as straightforward as can be. Surely it happened around the year 0. Christ Jesus’ birth was the event that would later result in a societal change of our entire calendar system in the Western world, right? So, He was born in the year 0—that’s it… final answer—at least at first glance. But, what did the Gospel according to Luke tell us this night about when Christ Jesus’ birth took place?

Our familiar Christmas story begins with “In those days…” as in, sometime in the past, or “A long, long time ago…” Then, follows a description of Emperor Augustus and Governor Quirinus, rulers during that day. On the surface, the purpose of these names appears simple enough. They timestamp when Jesus was born. But, like with our old friend Einstein, time is about to get a bit more mystifying to us as well. For in the original language “in those days,” speaks distinctly about chronological time—like seconds, minutes, and hours which we might measure on a stopwatch. “In those days” also points to an era that is old, tired, and fading away. The story we heard tonight was not about what happened “in those days,” way back when, but rather Christ Jesus’ birth is about another sort of time altogether. His birth is about “this day”! Let me explain.

“This day” does not only refer to the present, it also describes a completely different way of measuring time—really it’s outside of time. In the original language “this day” indicated a day not controlled by clocks or sundials but belonging entirely to God. It was not chronos like chronological time, but kairos, as in God’s time![4] “This day” was different. It was not tired or old or fading away, it was brand new. For this day was the day when God changed everything forever. It was no longer about what was happening “in those days”—days controlled by emperors, governors, or other powers of the world—instead “this day” was about what God was doing. What was God doing this day?

God was coming to dwell with us. God’s descent to us lowly human beings happened most miraculously, and yet so simply. God did not come to us as a powerful king, regaled by dignitaries and lauded by celebrities, but rather God came to us as a lowly child born to an unwed teenage mother who was engaged to a basic tradesman. God made a birth announcement via angels, but those messengers did not seek out the emperor or the governor, rather they found some nearby shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. And, what did God say to those lowly sheep herds?

God’s words to those shepherds were “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord” (italics added for emphasis). The heralds of Our Lord’s birth were not interested in “those days,” but instead they announced a new day: a day when God came to all people, which is good news of great joy not just back then, but also right now, this day! Let me ask you my annoying question again: when was Christ born into this world?

Maybe Einstein understood time better than I gave him credit for earlier, for he knew that there is only a small illusion that separates past, present, and future. We do not have to be Einstein or even Einstein’s friend to experience “this day” and this holy night. For this holy night and every single moment of our lives is the same moment as we heard in Luke’s story. Christ is always being born into this world. Every moment of everyday Christ is becoming en-fleshed not in some old story, but anew right now in our hearts and throughout our entire lives. As the poet Emily Dickinson so succinctly put it, “Forever – is composed of Nows.”[5] Now and always God is with us and all people. This and every moment is God’s time. A time when God dwells more closely with us than we can ever imagine. Anything that we think separates us from God is merely a stubbornly persistent illusion.

“This day,” this holy night, and always may we greet the Christ who dwells with us forever. Amen.

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[1] Dan Falk. “A Debate Over the Physics of Time” Quanta Magazine. Published: July 19, 2016. Accessed: December 19, 2018. https://www.quantamagazine.org/a-debate-over-the-physics-of-time-20160719/

[2] Richard A. Muller. “Now — And The Physics Of Time” NPR Opinion Science Blog. Published: September 27, 2016. Accessed: December 19, 2018. https://www.npr.org/sections/13.7/2016/09/27/495608371/now-and-the-physics-of-time.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Charles L. Campbell. “Luke 2:1-14(15-20)” in Feasting on the Word, Year C Volume 1 eds. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009). 117-121.

[5] Emily Dickinson. “Forever – is composed of Nows – (690)” The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Reading Edition ed. Ralph W. Franklin (Cambridge, MA.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1998) from the Poetry Foundation: Accessed: December 24, 2018. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52202/forever-is-composed-of-nows-690

Re-Gifting

Before you can give out your presents John the Baptist has something to say to you.

This sermon was preached on the Third Sunday of Advent. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:

Zephaniah 3:14-20

Canticle 9

Philippians 4:4-7

Luke 3:7-18

In only eight and a half days we will be kneeling down to peek into the makeshift crib to view the Christ child. As you came into church this morning—to pray, to sing, to hear God’s Word, to confess sins, to be forgiven, to eat and drink of the Sacramental Body and Blood of Christ, and to be sent back out into the world transformed—as you came here today perhaps you, like me, were distracted by thoughts of final Christmas preparations and purchases. But, now after hearing John’s challenging, caustic, and cajoling words, Christmas may be the last thing on your mind. How in the world are we going to get from the Jordan’s banks to Bethlehem’s manger after all of this fire and brimstone?

Today’s Gospel lesson almost feels like a prank by the brain trust that came up with our reading cycle, the Lectionary. Are there hidden cameras in here? John just called the crowds—and vicariously us—“a brood of vipers.” Then, he threatened that if we don’t bear good fruit we’ll be chopped down. That was before he told us that the coming Christ would soon be burning up any chaff in an unquenchable fire. And, Luke had the audacity to cap it all off by claiming that these exhortations are good news. What? This cannot possibly be good news can it? See, friends as strange as all of this sounds you aren’t in some sort of nightmare before Christmas.

Actually what John the Baptist preached in the wilderness long ago really was and is still good news. Hang with me for a little bit—don’t worry the Christmas to-do list will still be there when I finish. You might even look at it differently.

First off, let’s acknowledge a basic truth about us human beings. We don’t like it when we are told we are wrong. We don’t like being in trouble. As a kid, I avoided getting in trouble like the plague. Correction: I avoided being caught getting in trouble like the plague. And, there was one person that put the fear of God in me more than even John the Baptist could—someone whom I never wanted to catch me doing something wrong. That person was my maternal grandfather. His go-to phrase when I was misbehaving was, “Do we need to go have a chat in the locker room?” Whenever he said it, I knew I was in trouble and whatever I had been doing I would stop doing it. This was his own little call to repentance. Sort of like what was going on with John the Baptizer talking with the crowds down by the river side. So, the first thing about us humans is we don’t like being wrong.

Here’s a second thing about us human beings, we may not like to be told we are wrong, but sometimes we are. What is more sometimes we need desperately to hear difficult truths. When the crowds came to John they must have been in sore need of hearing truth—even if it was going to be tough. Whatever had been working in their lives was no longer cutting it. So, the crowds headed out to see this wild preacher draped in camel’s hair and a leather belt with bean pods (yep, that’s what locusts are) and honey on his breath. Amazingly in today’s Gospel lesson we see these crowds being told the truth and not hiding from it.

The crowds so needed to hear the truth that they even withstood John’s initial fiery address—the one about them being snakes—and kept listening. There’s no mention of people running off, crying in their milk, or saying John was wrong. Instead they stuck around to ask him, “Teacher, what then should we do?” This was a good question. They were seeking a deeper truth.

This close to Christmas—when we approach the Creator of the universe now in flesh appearing—might we have the same question? We do not like being wrong, sinful, or broken, but sometimes we are and sometimes we need to know, “What then should we do?” Perhaps this is the very reason we have such a challenging passage a week and a day before Christmas Eve. We’re getting closer to some Good News!

John the Baptizer tells this gathered crowd, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” In these words he challenges us to see that while the gift of turning to God and being forgiven is completely free, it will also cost us. God loves us so much that God would come dwell with us, teach us, be killed by us, and still love us. This way of Christ opens to us repentance and forgiveness forever. And yet, how do we show the fruit worthy of such a gift? Truly we cannot ever repay God, but that’s not the point. We simply cannot rest on such a gift. We can’t hide it away. What then should we do?

When the crowds, the tax collectors, and the soldiers asked John this question the Baptist responded with real-world advice. “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” In other words, share with those who do not have. “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” A.K.A. do what is just. “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.” Said simply, live within your means. As someone wiser than me wrote regarding this passage, “John’s advice to all of them is very practical and pointed. His answers reflect his knowledge of the vocations and values of those who ask the question, and his answers involve acts of mercy and justice…share, keep no more than you need, be fair, treat others with care, and be honest.”[1] Friends, I believe we have happened upon some Good News.

We as Twenty-First Century followers of Jesus have the same question as those First Century followers of Jesus’ Forerunner John. We want to know how we are to bear good fruit and what we are to do. So why don’t we walk out to that same wild baptizer who is still speaking eternal wisdom and ask him?

What might it look like if some modern professionals had their toes dipped in the Jordan listening to John? If a lawyer approached him and asked, “What then should I do?” John might reply, “Stop chasing ambulances! What’s with these ridiculous billboards? Do some cases pro bono. And, be okay with lawyer jokes.” If a wealthy CEO happened out to the River Jordan asked the same question, John might say, “Don’t take your bonus this year. Turn around. Give it to your employees. Maybe start a fund for underpaid teachers or single mothers. Live not within your means, but within one of your employee’s means.” If it were an Episcopal priest going out to see John, the Baptist could very well reply, “What’s with the outfit? And, stop talking about how busy you are. Slow down. Tend to your flock and your family.” What might John say to you when you are wrong? We could go on all morning, but by now I am sure you are back to thinking of your Christmas to-do list. So, let me close with the following.

We are weaving our way along this path of Advent on the way to Bethlehem. We are so close to the celebration of the Christ child’s birth, we are already awaiting Christ’s coming at the fullness of all things, and we are watching for Christ even coming here among us right now. And, as much as it may hurt us to know this, we are not going to get it all right before we meet Our Lord face-to-face. So, we wonder, “What then should we do?” Well, know this: God will always meet us with mercy, fairness, and love. As we turn or repent to receive this gift from God, we are exhorted (and yes that is good news) by Jesus and His Prophet to bear fruit worthy of this gift. What does that look like? Well, it looks just like the gifts we receive—mercy, fairness, and love. As you return to that Christmas list, don’t let anyone tell you that re-gifting is a bad idea, at least not when we are giving away the gifts that God gives to us.

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[1] Kathy Beach-Verhey, “Luke 3:7-18 Homiletical Perspective.” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 1. Ed. by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 71.

Embrace the Dark

This sermon was preached on the Feast Day of Saint Juan de la Cruz (John of the Cross), mystic and monastic. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:

Song of Solomon 3:1–4

Psalm 121

John 16:12–15,25–28

Our first lesson from the Song of Solomon bears repeating:

“Upon my bed at night 

I sought him whom my soul loves; 

I sought him, but found him not; 

I called him, but he gave no answer. 

“I will rise now and go about the city, 

in the streets and in the squares; 

I will seek him whom my soul loves.” 

I sought him, but found him not. 

The sentinels found me, 

as they went about in the city. 

“Have you seen him whom my soul loves?” 

Scarcely had I passed them, when I found him whom my soul loves. 

I held him, and would not let him go 

until I brought him into my mother’s house, 

and into the chamber of her that conceived me. 

The Song of Solomon, as you may recall, stands out in the Hebrew Bible. In truth, it is unique in all our Holy Scripture. Love poetry, often erotic in nature, is not standard fare elsewhere in “The Good Book.” So, why read such provocative words? Because these words that we heard today describe so precisely, succinctly, and perfectly the spiritual journey of those Christian seekers called mystics. One of those mystics we celebrate today—I’ll get to him in a moment. But, right now I want to make a case for us all to become Christian mystics.

Often times, even in the Church, mystics get painted as looneys, dreamers, or at the very least unlike us normal folk. However, most of us who yearn for a closer relationship with Christ would love nothing more than to have a mystical experience with Our Divine Lord. So what gives? Why are we so weary of mystical experiences with God? And, what do these poetic words from the Song of Solomon have to do with becoming a mystic?

Let us start with the Scripture, as this passage portrays for us a roadmap to having an encounter with the Divine. This story depicts one lover in search of another. Now, some might argue that this story is about God searching for us, but I believe it outlines our search for God. We want God—sometimes we think we want something else, but truly behind all our desires is intimacy with the Lover of Our Souls. Sometimes though, we feel like God is not with us—even if God is always there.

Still, we go searching. If we do not find God close by, then we must go out in search for “him whom [our souls] love.” What if we do not sense God even in our own household? What if we miss God in the routine experiences of day-to-day life? Where do we go to find God? Well, like the lover in the Song of Solomon, we must search beyond just our bed and our own home. This searching though presents obstacles.

In this passage we discover that one lover must overcome sleepiness, darkness, and even guards to find the beloved and to go home. This struggle is our roadmap to finding God as Christian seekers. We aim to experience God’s presence. And, despite God’s infinite nearness, sometimes to get beyond our own doubts we must tiredly search in the darkness. There God invites us to relinquish thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons, situations, and conditions that distract us from intimacy with Our Great Beloved. There we find our home where we dwell with God. The saint whom we celebrate today modeled this mystical journey for us.

Now, we might not even have that saint’s words were it not for something that happened long after his death. Juan de la Cruz, or John of the Cross, is the person the Church celebrates today. He served as a strict Carmelite priest and monk in the 16th Century. More on his life shortly, but after his death Pope Benedict XIII made John a saint in the early 18th Century. This was lovely, but his life was quickly forgotten except for by some Carmelites. It was thanks to Pope Pius XI that we have been given the treasures of John’s journey as a mystical. In 1926 Pius XI made John of the Cross a Doctor of the Church, thus his example and writings were given new life. It was then that we in the English speaking world were given a taste of this mystic Christian’s example.

The life of John of the Cross looked very much like this bit from the Song of Solomon and it outlined a journey that we might take. When John became a Carmelite brother he felt that the order needed some reform, as it had become too relaxed. This was a lover in search of his beloved. However, on his pursuit to finding God and reforming the order, he was confronted with sentinels and darkness. The sentinels came in the form of other Carmelites who did not want reform and thus locked him up in Toledo (Holy Toledo!). Within the trying months in jail John encountered darkness. He was persecuted. His spirit was tried. It was there that he composed some of his most profound mystical writing. And through this darkness he even found his beloved, like the lover in the Scripture.

John of the Cross helped us to understand that darkness is not the opposite of God or something merely to be overcome. Instead as we experience the “dark night of the soul” (a phrase coined by John) we discover that God’s presence can be found in illuminating and challenging darkness, just as it is in overwhelming and inspiring brightness. Other saints of the Church including Mother Teresa of Calcutta, Teresa of Avila (who was John’s contemporary), Thomas Merton, and the recently deceased Thomas Keating all endorse this mystical model of “endarkenment” or embracing the dark night of the soul. Each of these holy ones had moments when they were persecuted, lost, or disenchanted with their Christian journey, such that they found God not in the usual places of light, but in Celestial Darkness.

During this season when we remember Christ’s coming in Jesus of Nazareth and look forward to Christ’s coming at the end, may we also wait and watch in the darkness for Christ’s coming now. With fewer and fewer hours of brightness from the sun each day and with the challenges of our own lives, may we recognize that God’s presence shines luminously even as that around us appears dazzlingly dark. May we be like the lover in the Song of Solomon, desperately seeking our beloved even through weariness, sentinels, and other challenges. May we be like John of the Cross who experienced intimacy with the Great Beloved by embracing the dark night of the soul. Amen.

Vipers, Axes, and Fire… Oh My!

What happened? The contrast between last week’s portrayal of John the Baptizer and this week’s could not be more opposed. Yesterday the Forerunner of Christ Jesus was embodying Isaiah’s “Prepare the way of the Lord,” but this coming Sunday he will be shouting, “You brood of vipers!” Last week it was baptism and forgiveness. This week it’s the axe already lying at the root of the tree and a winnowing fork ready to separate. Last week it was “All flesh shall see the salvation of God.” This week it’s the chaff burning in an unquenchable fire. Where did the cuddly, camel-hair-wearing John the Baptist go? Why is there such a difference between last week and this week?

Well, the truth is there is no difference. That’s right! You heard me! That one who cried of a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins is the same one who laid out what repentance looks like for the audience in this week’s Good News (and yes, it is Good News!). So why does it feel so different? How can we be so okay with John’s prophetic message last week, but so uncomfortable with it now? Before I try to answer that, let me ask you to think about something. I want you to remember a time when you were wrong. Ready, go!

Thinking…

Thinking…

Got it?

Well, let me clarify what I mean by a time when you were wrong. I’m not talking about a time when someone else thought you were wrong and you thought you were right, like a difference of opinions about something trivial. I mean a time when you were actually wrong—maybe even about something big. You knew you were wrong. That other person knew you were wrong. And, that other person called you out on it. You sweating a little just thinking about it? Yeah, me too.

That time when you were wrong, you knew you were wrong, someone else knew you were wrong, and that someone called you out about it—that situation is what happened in this week’s Gospel lesson. John was not saying that the religious leaders had a different opinion than his about God. This was not varying points of view. John had been around, he had grown up in the Temple culture, and he saw the injustices being carried out there against God’s People (specifically the poor, the widowed, the orphaned, and the otherwise disadvantaged). Thus, John called out those leaders. And, what is more, those religious leaders sat there and they took it, which provides further evidence that they were wrong and they knew they were wrong.

Now, let me have a moment for an aside. I am not saying that John claimed somehow that all of Judaism was wrong. John, himself raised in that Faith, was calling out the religious elite for failing to fulfill their calling as appointed shepherds to nourish God’s sheep. Furthermore, this was not an example of a Christian ideal supplanting a Jewish one, but rather it was an instance when God’s universal concept of justice was being mishandled by leaders—in much the same way that we see contemporary leaders across religions turn a blind eye to those who are suffering. So with this aside out of the way, let’s come back to specifically looking at how one might approach preaching this text on Sunday.

John speaks something that was hard for religious leaders, as well as tax collectors, soldiers, and the masses to hear, make no mistake about that. Still when they heard the (capital T) Truth, it halted them where they were. Such that they had to know what to do next, which is why they asked their questions, "Teacher, what should we do?" In the same, we cannot outrun the Truth, nor hide from it, nor make it disappear. What John the Baptist said to those at the Jordan long ago might not be exactly what Christ’s Prophet would say to us, but make no mistake God has words for us that will stop us indefinitely. Hearing the Truth that convict us, that halt us, that stop us might not be pleasant, but God’s movement in this world is not about comfort or convenience or pleasure. Even in our squirming though there is Good News.

The convicting words of God’s prophets are not meant to shame us into submission, but rather they challenge us to see where we have gone astray, provide us with a way of repentance, and lead us into transformation through the forgiveness of sins. In this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson we are given this marvelous three-fold movement—conviction, repentance, and forgiveness. And, in Truth that is precisely how John the Baptizer was described in last week’s Gospel lesson too! The question is will we be bold enough to hear God's convicting words, walk the challenging path of repentance, and be transformed by forgiveness in the figurative (and sometimes literal) waters of baptism?

As we move through this journey of Advent, we have a great opportunity given to us in John’s words. During the time when we wait and watch for the coming of Christ, we have an invitation to contemplate where we have trespassed against God’s people and God's movement. Where have you been wrong? What is so convicting that you know you must turn around from it? Is there something for which you desire forgiveness? Take the time to be convicted, to repent, and to experience God’s forgiveness. For though God is infinitely near us when we have wronged, sinned, and gone astray without turning around, we block our own experience of God's love, grace, and forgiveness!

Just Three Sentences

Three sentences. That’s all we get in this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson, but boy did Luke pack a lot into them! Here they are, plus a quick summation afterward:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,

and every mountain and hill shall be made low, 

and the crooked shall be made straight,

and the rough ways made smooth; 

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" 

The first sentence lays out the leaders in place within the Roman Empire, some Middle Eastern territories, and the Temple power structure during the First Century. Strangely though, this list of names concludes with the word of God coming not to them, but to John instead. In the next sentence, we discover that this Son of Zechariah is going around the Jordan preaching about baptism and the forgiveness of sins. (By the way, Zechariah was a Temple priest himself, which made John a preacher's kid.) The second sentence even includes a bit from Isaiah, as proof that John is fitting something foretold by the prophet of old. In the end of that sentence and through the entire third sentence, we discover what the word of God looked like as it was revealed to and through John—low places made high, rough spots smoothed, and all flesh viewing God’s salvific work. That’s the quick and dirty of those three sentences.

Now, on some level these overly full sentences seem straightforward. However, as I step away from them I feel like I tried drinking a nice glass of lemonade, but was instead given a highly concentrated cup of a little water and a lot of Country Time mix—there is so much present here. So, what was Luke getting at with these overloaded statements about the forerunner of Jesus?

Three different vital themes emerge that appear worth noting and exploring for a sermon this Sunday. First, Luke portrays the word of God coming not to those who sit upon thrones or seats of honor, but rather to a mangy preacher’s kid (PK) who is camping out by the River Jordan. To contemporize this statement into our modern time and the Diocese of Alabama context, it would be like thinking that God’s message is flowing through our bishops and priests only to discover that God’s word is to be found with some PK slung out in her camping hammock at Camp McDowell. Where is God unexpectedly bursting into our lives or surprising us through contemporary prophets? Or perhaps a better question is through whom is God unpredictably speaking now? The first theme thus is God speaks through shocking media then and now.

Second, the appealing message that John proclaimed focused upon God’s forgiveness and our need to turn towards God. This message stood out as appealing because so many of the methods for making oneself right with God during that day and age centered around offering a sacrifice. While God does love our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, God does not wait to forgive or love us until we offer up something in return. Rather, once we receive the overwhelming grace that God freely gives, we find ourselves wanting to sacrifice something as a way of responding to God with gratitude. God’s grace calls us to turn toward God and fills us up when we see any and all sins washed away. So, this second theme emanates from John preaching a message of turning back to God and receiving God’s forgiveness outside the normal religious protocol of the day.

Finally, the words from Isaiah depict what we will do as we greet Our Lord and experience the transformation that is repentance and forgiveness. Some may look at the natural images in this passage literally; however, given that John ran outside the normal boundaries of society we might do well to look at some other layers to his words. Through Isaiah John was pointing to the raising up of the poor while the greedy got their comeuppance. And, as we experience God’s overwhelming love that calls us back home, we are called to make the Savior’s way straight to everyone by aiding in God’s salvific work. This is one way in which we see God's Salvation happening. This theme of responding to God’s powerful salvation by turning towards and taking part in God’s work in this world brings this reading to a close. It also calls us not just to see this as an ancient story.

As we continue through our Advent journey when we remember Christ’s coming in Jesus, observe Christ coming to us now, and look for Christ fulfilling of all things in the end, we are invited to be a part of God’s work of salvation now. We are called to know that God’s salvation brings us healing without having to appease any religious bureaucracy. We are called to know that no matter how strange the means God is speaking to us to come back home, so that we may live the fullest life right now. Wow, all that in just three sentences!

Christ Coming To Us In The Present

A wonderful Advent invitation.

This sermon was preached on the First Sunday of Advent. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
Jeremiah 33:14-16

Psalm 25:1-9

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13

Luke 21:25-36
Is there a better way to get in the holiday spirit than to faint with fear? Or, perhaps the best way to ready ourselves for Christmas is to stare anxiously at the sun, the moon, and the stars? How about taking note of all the distress among (and within) nations as we pray for peace on earth and good will towards all?

Today’s Gospel lesson starts out with such foreboding language: “Signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.” This is not exactly the Christmas sentiment pasted inside of a Hallmark card. So, what gives? Why are we hearing an adult Jesus speaking of His second coming at the End of Days, instead of looking at the cooing baby Jesus in the manger?

Well, unlike seemingly the rest of society, we are not yet in full-blown Christmas mode, but instead just beginning the Season of Advent. What’s Advent you say? Oh, I’m so glad you asked.

The word “advent” has its roots in a Latin word, which means “to come towards.” As in, God is coming towards us. Advent is the first season of the Church Year, so Happy New Year friends! It is a season when we contemplate and celebrate God coming to us. We remember the anticipation that was felt for millennia as God’s people looked for the coming of a Savior. We get ready ourselves for the Christ child’s coming. And, oddly enough we look ahead towards the fulfilling of all things when Christ will come again—the Day of Judgment!

When a very official polling was done—at Theology on Tap awhile back—Advent emerged as the respondents’ favorite Liturgical Season. And why not? It has great music. There are fascinating characters like John the Baptizer, faithful Joseph, and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Plus, there are cool props like Advent wreaths and Advent calendars. But, what I think people love most about Advent is the theme of eternal judgment, which we will endure at the culmination of all things! Right? Okay, certainly not. However, I cannot help but honestly believe the fulfilling of all things does have something to do with our love of this season.

In this time when we look back at Christ’s first coming in the person of Jesus of Nazareth and look forward to Christ’s final coming at the end, I cannot help but see that we are often overlooking my favorite aspect of Advent: the present. No, not the presents that will be waiting under the Christmas tree. I mean the present moment when Christ comes to us. This aspect of Advent might not make it onto everyone’s list of reasons why they love this season, but I think the present has everything to do with why we love this time, Christ fulfilling all things, and what Jesus said in today’s Gospel lesson. It’s all about the present!

At this time of year, we often get bogged down with “the too-much-ness of it all.” Getting gifts, making memories, decorating houses, and all the while hoping that we will feel the joy that our children and grandchildren often do at this time of year. But, in the attempts to do it all, we somehow miss that God is coming to us now, even when everything isn’t already done, even before Christmas Day, even though this is not the End of Days. Jesus’ words reflect a calling to pay attention to God’s coming right now here amidst everything that is undone and among so many distractions.

Usually things like the sun, the moon, the stars, and the waves are beautiful testimonies of God’s handiwork. And yet, in today’s Gospel lesson everyone is confused by those things. What is worse, people are so filled with fear and fright that they are fainting. If we get so worried about what is to come—whether during the busy holiday season or the End of Days—if we get so upset about these coming events that we are fainting, then I believe we are not faithfully living in the present. We are not seeing that God comes to us right now.

As Jesus put it, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap.” (Or, to quote the Star Wars character Admiral Ackbar, “It’s a trap!”) Don’t get caught up in the traps of the past or the future. Instead pay attention. Be alert. Wait and watch for the coming of Christ. All of this sounds so lovely, but how, oh how, are we to do this during the busyness of this time of year?

In this Gospel lesson, Jesus described both the natural and man-made world causing people consternation. All these things around us in our lives distract us. They can, as we see with the examples of drunkenness and worrying, be such toxic and addicting things that we might have a hard time letting go of them even if we want to do just that. Christ here calls us not to be distracted by all these things, but instead to see those wonderful and terrible events of our lives as indicators that Christ is coming. That Christ is here. But, to see Christ we must be attentive.

One of my favorite Advent phrases is “Slow down. Be quiet. It’s Advent.” This calling has everything to do with why this season is so beloved by so many. During Advent, we are called by God through the Church to not let the frantic nature of the rest of our lives distract us from God coming to be with us now. And this reality mysteriously redeems for me even the strange and fearful language found in the opening bits of today’s lesson. 

Yes, we are waiting on a sweet babe to be wrapped in swaddling clothes. Sure, we cannot wait for the Angels and the Shepherds and the Wise Men. But, here in the present moment we are also waiting for the culmination of all things when God will judge the world not with hatred or with fear, but through the prism of Christ’s redeeming love. We are holding out for that moment when all things will be fulfilled through the infinite grace shown in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus. And, the only way that we can take part in that remembering and that hopeful anticipation is by being alert in the present.

Do not be distracted during this season of Advent when God comes to us. Don’t let the sun, the moon, the stars, or the rolling and roaring tide cause you trouble. Don’t be weighed down by drunkenness or worry. Forget the shopping, the to-do’s, and the decorating for now. Instead slow down, be quiet, and realize that Christ is coming to you right now.

Step Out of the Shadow

This sermon was preached on the transferred Feast Day of Saint Andrew, Apostle of Jesus. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
Romans 10:8b-18
Matthew 4:18-22
Psalm 19 or 19:1-6
Here in Decatur there are a couple of pertinent questions that people ask someone whom they’ve never met. “Where are you from?” “What church do you go to?” and “Who are you kin to?” It took me some time when I moved here to get accustomed to such questions. While all three of these inquiries are helpful, today I want to zoom in on the third.

Understanding family connections is crucial. As a parishioner once told me, “Make sure you who someone is related to in the church before you say anything about anyone else.” While I would take it further to challenge myself and us all to speak with kindness about everyone, I get that parishioner’s sentiment. Family connection is crucial, especially here in the South. This lesson emerged in my own childhood going to camp.

When I first went to Camp Winnataska I loved it. I wanted to go back any chance I had. However, I wasn’t the only one in my family who had a great love for camp. My great grandmother was one of the first campers there. My grandmother and mother had gone there. And, my sister, who is eight years older than me, was an older camper, then a leader, and a staff member there. So, even though I had my own relationship with camp, I was almost always introduced as Elin’s younger brother.

Over the years though, that introduction changed. When my sister stopped being on staff and served as a director (only one week of the summer) the connection shifted. My elder sibling was introduced as Seth’s older sister. While this may not seem like much, that shift made a huge impact on me. I had stepped out of the shadow of my sister and had my own identity. Similarly I believe we must take the saint whom we celebrate today out of the shadow of his brother to celebrate him for who he truly was.

Today we remember Saint Andrew, an Apostle of Jesus. Often we recall first and foremost that Andrew was Simon Peter’s brother. However, as soon as we do this, we overlook almost every aspect of Andrew’s life and ministry. In doing this we miss the example that today’s saint gives us for living a life dedicated to living out of Christ’s grace and love.

Andrew, according to Saint John’s telling of the story—and we like Saint John here—was a disciple of John the Baptist. One day the Baptizer pointed out Jesus to Andrew and another disciple, saying “Behold the Lamb of God” (John 1:29). Instead of hanging back, and perhaps waiting on his brother, Andrew began following Jesus around, spending time with Him, and even believing Him to be the Messiah. Andrew so quickly believed that he went to his brother Simon to share this good news with him. Without Andrew, we would have no Simon Peter.

Saint Andrew was the first disciple, an evangelist to the disciples, and one who stayed right outside of the spotlight. However, if we simply forget his ministry, then we may forget our own calling to bring others to Christ. When many were hungry and had nothing to eat, Andrew found a little boy with fish and loaves. When in Matthew’s Gospel account Jesus called Andrew he immediately responded by leaving his fishing nets to follow Our Lord. When in his latter ministry he faced persecution and eventually martyrdom Andrew did not shy away from living into his calling.

We sometimes make it out to say that Andrew lived in the shadow of Simon Peter. We might sometimes introduce Andrew as Peter’s brother. However Andrew’s pioneering belief in Jesus, his ability to bring others to Christ, and his lasting faith even in persecution makes him stand alone. Saint Peter? Yes, that’s Saint Andrew’s brother!

Pray Twice

Our Church has been gifted mightily by its musicians and our Hymnal is a treasure trove of these gifts.

This sermon was preached on the Feast Day of William Byrd, John Merbecke, and Thomas Tallis. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:

Revelation 15:1–4

John 15:1–8

Psalm 47

When I say “meeting” what words come to your mind? Boring. Excruciating. Awful. Waste of time. Too long. These are some of the words that typically pop into my head when I think of most meetings. And, I think this is often the case. I know I have been in meetings that make it feel like time itself is standing still. However, there’s one meeting I have always enjoyed since getting here to St. John’s: our music planning meetings!

Now, when Evan Garner was still here I loved these meetings because watching Foster Bailey and Evan negotiate hymn selections was like watching two seasoned boxers go toe-to-toe for twelve rounds. I often felt like the underqualified referee who tried desperately to keep the fighters from taking any low blows, punching after the bell, or biting anyone’s ear off. The conversations now are a little less lively, but nonetheless they are times when I genuinely look forward to attending a meeting. Why is this? I’ll give you three reasons.

First, and please don’t tell him this, but I have learned so much about church music from our organist. I say don’t tell him because he’s insufferable already. Still, he has always been brutally honest with me about things I can do better, and he’s also shared so much about what makes for good church music—most notably, that people can actually sing the hymns we choose! So, during these meetings I joyfully look forward to figuring out what pieces both apply to the church season or day and get people singing.

Second, I look forward to attending our church music planning meetings because it is amazing to watch how we can weave together music, readings, prayers, and eventually sermons to fit a day or a season perfectly. Sometimes parishioners remark about how great everything fell into place on a given day. Well, I am sad to break it to you but there is a lot of prayerful planning, probably a couple of arguments, and of course God’s Spirit that leads to making those selections. In other words, our liturgy doesn’t magically fall into place. Still sometimes even I am taken aback at how perfectly our songs reflect everything else in the liturgy.

Finally, I happily anticipate music planning meetings because in them I am always reminded that to sing is to pray twice, as St. Augustine is supposed to have said. Yes, sometimes I needed to pray not twice but continually when Evan and Foster were arguing over hymns. And yet, so often during a service I get most lost in prayer when I am singing. During other parts of the service I might be so focused on what I need to be doing (“Am I holding my hands right?” “Did I annunciate that prayer well?” “Was I smiling or frowning during the Eucharistic Prayer?”). However, when we sing I receive the great gift like the rest of us to pray doubly. And, we not only have our own church musicians to thank for that, but also those who came in ages past, like the saints whom we celebrate today.

John Merbecke, Thomas Tallis, and William Byrd were church musicians in the 15th and 16th Centuries. Merbecke composed a musical setting to accompany the 1549 Prayer Book. Tallis survived four monarch shifts back and forth from Catholic to Protestant, and all the while he provided for the changing needs of the Church of England. Perhaps that is why he is known as the father of English Church music since the Reformation. Byrd composed mass settings, motets, graduals, psalm settings, anthems, and hymns for the great feast days of the Church. Tallis and Byrd even combined for some years and held the Crown Patent for the printing of sheet music. These musicians and so many others have given us a treasure trove of songs to sing. And, they have been ones who help our music and our liturgy to be a sacrifice of praise, worship, and thanksgiving.

As we celebrate the feast of Thanksgiving tonight and tomorrow, may we with joyful hearts be grateful for Church musicians throughout the ages. They may at times be insufferable, pigheaded, irreverent prima donnas. However, they help us to pray twice as we sing songs that bring us into not only describing who God is, but also participating in the wonder, love, and praise of Our Lord. And for that, thanks be to God. Amen.  

Going Home

This sermon was preached at the Burial of the Dead for Florence Herbet Turpin. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 14:1-6

It is never good to play favorites. This is sound advice when dealing with children, and I think it’s also true when working in a church. A priest ought not to have preferred parishioners; however, I must confess my friends, for if this is the mark, then I have surely missed it. You see, I always looked forward to visiting Florence Turpin with a secret joy rivaled by few others, and I guess now that is not such a secret. Whew, it feels better to get that off my chest.

Whenever I visited with Flo she wanted me to come over to give her a big hug. The hug was even bigger if I had brought her a beloved chocolate milkshake. These visits were so easy and fun because Dadaw, as she was known by her family, was the consummate host. Even if she was confined to a small room in a nursing facility, her over 30 years providing hospitality in the restaurant industry shined through. Every time it was like she was welcoming me to a newly renovated eatery. Of course, not every one of those visits was chipper.

Over the last few years Florence faced continuing health challenges with surgeries, multiple strokes, and memory loss. On top of these issues, Flo struggled with guilt, was often irritable, and always stubborn. Through it all though, she managed to stay herself. She was always authentically, genuinely, 100% Flo. And, quite often that meant that comedy was the way that she kept going.

Flo was funny. Like when she reflected on where she had learned how to feel guilty about things for far too long. She was long ago a Catholic girl with coke bottle thick glasses growing up on the Mississippi Delta, not exactly the best place to be Catholic or a girl or four-eyed. It was a world that valued so many things that she was not. So, Florence found a way to rise above by joking. She used to compare herself to Sammy Davis Jr. who famously said he had more strikes against him than ought to be allowed as he was "short, maimed, ugly,black, Jewish, gaudy, and uneducated." Florence may not have had as many strikes, but she nonetheless always kept fighting until she got her way.

Even when she was irritable, she found ways to make herself and others crack up. Like the times when she was upset with her neighbors at the Terrace. She would ask, “Why are there so many damn Baptists out here? Where are the Good Episcopalians? These people don’t know how to play Mexican Dominoes the right way... like they do at Riverside.”

And, her habit of stubbornly holding onto her way even when her children, and grandchildren, and other family and friends would try to convince her of another way was both challenging and impressive. One doesn’t run as many restaurants as she did without having the stubbornness of a mule. While she was not trying to be funny, there is something amusing to me about how Flo so willfully held to the belief that the last place she lived was always so much better than the place where she was currently living.

Natchez and the Mississippi Delta was her home for so long. And, the friendships she had there were lifelong bonds. The joy that Howard and her shared with others, especially as they went out to dinner and danced most Fridays nights revealed Flo’s fun-loving nature. But, after Howard’s death when she had to move to Decatur it seemed like she was always looking backwards.

She first lived at Riverside Senior Living, but there she missed Mississippi. Then she had to have some more serious care after some complications, so she moved to the Terrace… where she missed the friends, the food, and the Mexican Dominoes of Riverside. As her memory worsened she had to move to Summerford in Falkville, and there she missed the independence she had at the Terrace. What strikes me is that it’s hard to live life in reverse, always looking backwards. But, Florence missed her home, and towards the end I don’t think it was just her Mississippi home that she longed for.

Over the last few weeks Flo kept saying that she was seeing a man in a suit. No one else ever saw that man in a suit. Finally Dodie asked her who it was. Flo said it was her late husband Howard. Was she just hallucinating? I don’t think so.

I can’t be sure exactly what was happening. It’s hard to understand the Great Mystery that is God’s nature. But, maybe Flo kept seeing Howard because he was waiting for her to come home. Not to a home where she would look back and think it was better back then, but to a place where everything is perfect, like the feast on God’s Mountain in our reading from Isaiah, like in our Psalm walking along protected by the Good Shepherd, like in John’s Revelation when there’s no more hunger or thirst just fulfillment, like in John’s Gospel account when Jesus leads us all to our eternal home, like dancing and dinner down in Natchez on Friday night. That’s the home where Howard was taking Florence.

He was coming back to make sure Flo knew the way to the place where Christ leads us all. And, Flo kept looking past people around her these last few days, as though she was looking to that forever home where we will all one day reside in God’s infinite love. Christ shows us the way, the truth, and the life in how he lived, in how he died, and in how he rose again.

In her guilt and irritability and stubbornness I imagine that Flo, like the rest of us with our own faults, might have struggled with making that walk back home. Howard must have finally convinced her though that if she held out much longer they would have missed their dancing and dinner with all their friends last Friday night in their new eternal home. And, so Flo went home.

As we give Dadaw, Flo, Herb, Florence over to God who has always had her and always will have her, we look ahead to that day when we will all feast together on God’s Holy Mountain. When we will walk more closely with our Good Shepherd. When we will no longer hunger or thirst. When we will be together in God’s eternal home. When we know that we are all God’s favorite. And, there we can again dance and laugh and feast with Flo and all the others who go before us. Welcome home Flo. I know you will like this one the best!

Keep Going

Would Jesus say the same thing about our churches that He said about the Temple in today's Gospel lesson?

This sermon was preached on November 18, 2018 during the Sunday Holy Eucharist services for the 26th Sunday after Pentecost. The readings that inspired the sermon were the following:

1 Samuel 1:4-20
1 Samuel 2:1-10
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

Dr. Gerald Smith, a Religion Professor at Sewanee, more affectionately known just by his last name—Smith, once took his Intro to Religion students out of their normal classroom and onto the Quad. He did this to make a point about how we see the priorities of a community reflected in its buildings. Using the architecture on central campus—some academic structures, the administrative offices, and All Saints’ Chapel—Smith asked the class what they saw. Even though the students had walked by that area many times this exercise of paying attention served as eye-opening.

A Geology major informed the class that Tennessee sandstone made up the façade of the chapel. An upperclassman pointed out how so many disciplines were represented in the buildings around the Quad. Then, a church-nerd pointed out the Gothic nature of All Saints’. Finally, Smith jumped in to make clear his point. “Which building is the tallest?” the professor asked. “The Chapel,” the class replied. “So, what do you think that means? What does that say about the university? What does it say about this community’s priorities?” Those questions around the physical world and values have stuck with me.

Dr. Smith asserted throughout that particular class that our tallest buildings indicate to us what we hold most dearly. In that case, an Episcopal identity at an Episcopal University. But, if we look in our city, what does our architecture confess about us? Well, what buildings are tallest? Banks, offices, and churches. What about across the country? What buildings are tallest? The One World Trade Center is the tallest at 1,776 feet. That is the skyscraper rebuilt on the site of the Trade Center buildings, which were bombed on September 11, 2001 in New York City. Among the other tallest structures are The Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower) in Chicago and 432 Park Avenue in New York City.[1]

What do these buildings tell us about what we give worth to in our society? These buildings reflect that we value trade, our economy, wealth, and having a place to live. By the way, Riverside Church also in NYC—associated with the American Baptists and the United Church of Christ—is the tallest church in the U.S.A. and it is a full 1,384 feet shorter than the One World Trade Center, 10 miles down the Hudson River.[2] So what does this say? What do these buildings tell us about what we value? Perhaps these questions do not really help to inform us.

Building a really tall church seems impractical. And, in over-crowded cities like New York building up makes more sense than building out. Still, I cannot help but wonder what Jesus would think if we marveled to him about our tall buildings or even our beautiful church. If we caught him on a day like the one in today’s Gospel lesson we might find ourselves taken aback.

“Look, Teacher, what large stones and what a large church!” we might even say, “Jesus, did you notice how pretty our new facilities are?” He could very well reply, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” If bold enough, we might reply, “What gives Jesus? Why are you so upset? Isn’t it important to have tall and beautiful structures that point to what we hold dear?” I’m not positive how Jesus would reply to this, but He might very well reply with the words he spoke long ago, “Beware that no one leads you astray.” Astray? Astray of what? Where are we going off God’s path?

Our Great Teacher warned us to be wary, but why? His disciples wanted to know when the Temple would be toppled because they thought this would be a sign of the End of Days, Armageddon, the Eschaton. According to Jesus, there was a lot that needed to happen before the end. He cautioned that some would falsely come in His name. He said not to be alarmed by wars and rumors of wars. He even said to keep going through national uprisings and earthquakes and famines. Whoa! Jesus, do you even hear what you are saying? But, there is something to all of this. There is something to Jesus’ words because they are not just about being wary, and they aren’t about being worried, and they certainly aren’t about being fearful of what is to come—even if we might be all of these things.

No, Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel lesson are about something else. His words call us to wonder what it is that we are truly looking out for. It is not about all those terrible things—wars, rebellions, earthquakes, and famines—for they have been happening since Jesus was walking the earth. It’s not simply about those signs. And, in a society with lots of tall banks, apartments, and even churches that have been built up and demolished over the years, it’s not just about stones falling down. No, Jesus’ words cut through the noise of nations rising and falling, of natural disasters, and of everything else in our busy lives. Jesus cuts right to the heart of what is important.

Even when everything around us is crumbling, even when we feel like the sky is falling, even on our darkest days, Jesus tells us to keep going, for these are just the birthpangs. What will come will be beyond anything of our wildest imagination. That which will be born from these events will be the reign of Christ, the Kingdom of God, the realm of the Spirit! You see the best is yet to come!

Now, I won’t ever fully know the pains of the birthing process—other than perhaps a almost broken hand from my spouse’s kung fu like grip during labor. However, the difficulty of labor, even in our day and age, seems so tremendous that it is incredible that any of us are here in the first place. Still, I know that whenever I ask people about their moments closest to Christ throughout their whole lives what they almost universally point to is the birth of a child. New life marvels all of us. And, it seemingly far outweighs even the challenges of labor. The sprouting up of God’s way in this world will, according to Christ, be as painful as delivering a child. And yet, this is what we are called to be a part of.

We are called to bear God’s reign into this world. While the building up of the physical world is important, I mean look at how beautiful our new additions are, there is more than just what we see. Christ calls us to be dwelling places ourselves for God’s Spirit. Even when everything around us is crumbling, even when we feel like the sky is falling, even on our darkest days…when this material world crashes down, we are always called to bear God’s Kingdom, which never crumbles or falls or fades. We are called to keep going. Jesus says to us, “Don’t worry about how tall the building is. Instead build up dwelling places in your souls where my Spirit can dwell. For even our hardest hours are just the beginning of the birthpangs, which lead to God’s Kingdom being born in us and in this world.” Keep going, keep the faith, for these are just the birthpangs of Christ’s reign in this world, and the best is yet to come.

[1] “List of Tallest Buildings in the United States.” Wikipedia. Accessed 11/15/18. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tallest_buildings_in_the_United_States.

[2] “List of Tallest Church Buildings in the World.” Wikipedia. Accessed 11/15/18. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tallest_church_buildings.