Time to Split? Part 1

I wrote this for my church’s January newsletter. I was going to post it here on Jan. 1, but life got in the way. Two days later, a proposal to split the church was announced. I’ll comment on that later. First, my Jan. 1 post that never made it “live.”

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This is the time of year when you’re supposed to cheerfully flip the calendar to a new year and say “Happy new year!”

But I am not happy about it at all. Jan. 1 is when the so-called “Traditional Plan” goes into effect in the United Methodist Church.

The Traditional Plan basically makes it a crime in church law for any pastor or church to support LGBTQ people in any meaningful way. Non-compliance leads to expulsion.

It is a draconian measure, an anti-Wesleyan measure, an anti-Christian measure, and – yes – an anti-Christ measure.

It is the product of that awful special General Conference we had last February.

It is the culmination of a decades-long effort by fundamentalists to impose their narrow and bigoted view of scripture on everyone else.

It is an effort to make the UMC an anti-gay lobby and drive out all faithful Christians who object.

It is an effort to destroy the mission and ministry that the UMC has built over the last 50 years.

It is an effort to turn the UMC into just another culturally captive religious institution, just another political pawn that promotes conformity to insipid civic religion.

It is an effort to replace the liberating gospel of Jesus Christ with an enslaving anti-gospel of discrimination and hatred.

A new day is coming. General Conference 2020 convenes in May. The church may split. I don’t want that to happen, but it may be the best course of action. I am sick of being told that I am “unorthodox” and worse because I don’t follow a certain narrow and bigoted interpretation of scripture. So called “conservative” elements make it clear that I am not welcome in their church. Now I am beginning to think that I don’t want them in my church either. So much for the big tent. Let ’em have their own little tent.

Pray for the United Methodist Church and the witness of Jesus Christ through it.

Beloved

The diversity and creativity of the ways Christians celebrate can be astonishing, especially in the season of Epiphany.

Churches that spring from the Catholic tradition emphasize the visit of the magi to the baby Jesus. Churches in the Orthodox tradition emphasize the baptism of Jesus. We in the Wesleyan tradition incorporate elements from both Catholic and Orthodox traditions. We celebrate both the visit of the magi and Jesus’ baptism.

We don’t celebrate the baptism as vigorously as the Orthodox do, though. In the Tampa Bay area, thousands of Greek Orthodox Christians gather for the traditional blessing of the waters. At one point in the ceremony, the archbishop throws a white cross into Spring Bayou, and dozens of young men jump in after it. The one who retrieves it is said to receive a special blessing.

Even in Florida, the water is chilly this time of year. But the contestants don’t do this just for the thrill. This year’s winner says he did it because he wanted to emulate Jesus’ plunge into the Jordan River at his baptism.

He knew why he was jumping into the cold water. Somehow, he was sure, it would bring him closer to Jesus.

Jesus’ baptism is one of the few incidents in his life that is narrated in all four gospels. That means it’s important. Actually, it’s pivotal. Jesus’ baptism marks a turning point in his life.

There’s an 18-year gap in the life story of Jesus. Luke records a visit of Jesus’ family to Jerusalem when he is 12. The story then skips ahead to when, as Luke says, he’s “about thirty.” (Luke 3:23)

In between those times, we hear nothing. Speculation abounds. Maybe he goes to India to study with followers of the Buddha. Maybe he goes to the desert near the Dead Sea to study with the Essenes. Most likely, of course, he stays in his hometown of Nazareth, practices his trade as a builder, studies scripture as best as he can in such a small village, and meditates on the work of God that he sees ahead.

When he hears that his cousin John is calling Israel to repentance and baptism, he knows his time has come. He heads for the Jordan

We understand that when Jesus comes to John, he has no sins of his own to confess. Still, he humbles himself before God, before John, and before the others who come to be baptized. He fully identifies with those who repent of their sin. He accepts their plight as his own. He accepts their failings, their yearnings to be forgiven, and their longing for a future that is not defined by the mistakes of their past. He submits to baptism as a sign that even he is putting his past behind him and moving into the future with faith and hope.

What happens next is not visible or audible to John or to other onlookers, at least according to Mark’s version of events. That means that we know about it only because Jesus talked about it later. He talks about it because it’s an important moment in his life. It’s a powerful affirmation of who he is and what his mission is. It’s a personal epiphany, a fresh expression of his identity, a new way of seeing things into the future.

As he is coming up out of the water, he sees the sky ripped open and the Spirit of God descending upon him like a dove. And he hears a voice from heaven. We might imagine it to be a booming voice, but maybe it’s only a whisper. “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

Jesus’ baptism is a pivotal moment in his life. He remembers and cherishes this divine affirmation for the rest of his life.

He remembers when he begins his own ministry, gathering disciples and going throughout the region proclaiming the coming of the Kingdom of God and demonstrating its coming by healing the sick and diseased and driving out demons.

He remembers when he is condemned by religious leaders and rejected by the people of his hometown.

He remembers when even John questions whether he is the one Israel is waiting for, and when even members of his own family question his sanity.

He remembers when some of his closest friends betray him, when the religious establishment conspires against him, and when the power of secular Rome crashes down on him.

He remembers when he is mercilessly whipped and when he hangs on a cross for six interminable hours, and he prays, “Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing.”

He remembers the words: “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.” That was God’s affirmation to Jesus at his baptism. It echoes throughout his life. He must hear it constantly and be encouraged by it.

What I would like you to understand today is that when you were baptized, whether you heard it clearly or not, God said something similar to you.

What I want you to understand today is whenever you recall or renew the act of your baptism, God says it again, whether you hear it clearly or not. God says: “You are my child, and I love you. You are my son, my daughter, my beloved.”

If you don’t hear that, if you don’t get that, you may live the rest of your life in a terrible darkness because you have the wrong impression of who you really are.

In many churches today, you will be told again and again that you are a despicable sinner, and God hates your miserable guts, and if you don’t repent, God will condemn you to a fiery eternity, which you totally deserve because you are such filth.

Let’s shed the light of truth on that whole awful narrative. First, admit one thing. You are a sinner. Can you say that? Say, “I am a sinner.” Now, let’s talk about a deeper, truer sense of who you are. Say, “I am a child of God.” Say, “God loves me.”

You are God’s beloved. That is your innermost and most important identity. Genesis 1.26 says that you were created in the image and likeness of God. You are by original nature a beloved child of God.

Yes, something has gone awry. The image in you has become distorted. You are bent toward sin. But that’s a condition that can be fixed – and Jesus wants to fix it. Jesus wants to restore you in the image of God in which you were created.

In Genesis 1.31, God looks out over all creation and pronounces it very good, supremely good, excellent in every way, as various translations render it.

Sure, things go downhill fast. But it matters where you start talking about it. We hear so much about “original sin.” But sin is not original. Goodness and blessing are original.

Jesus comes to restore us to our original state. Your baptism is a sign that this restoration is beginning. Your baptism is an epiphany, a revelation of who you really are, who you were created to be, and who you will become, by the power of the Holy Spirit, thanks be to God.

When you repent, you are changing direction. We’ve made “repentance” into an empty church word, but it’s a powerful real-life word. It means changing direction. You were going the wrong way. Now you’re going the right way. Surprise! It’s the direction you were intended to go all along. It’s your original direction. You are not turning. You are returning.

Your baptism is also a commissioning for service. Just as God is transforming you, you are commissioned to be an agent of transformation for others. You’re not baptized solely for your own redemption. You also are baptized for the redemption of others.

In few moments, we are going to reaffirm your return to God. First, we are going to join in a service of covenant renewal that John Wesley originated more than 250 years ago. After that, we will celebrate our baptisms. I will invite you forward, as if to receive communion, but instead of bread and the cup there will be water – ordinary tap water mixed with water from the Jordan and sanctified by a blessing.

I invite you to dip the fingers of one hand in the water. Then you may make the sign of the cross on the palm of your other hand, or on your forehead, or on your forehead, chest and shoulders.

Let this act remind you that you have been baptized in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and you are God’s beloved. As you return to your seat, and go about your business in the days ahead, keep reminding yourself: I am a child of God, and I am God’s beloved.

“Beloved” is a message delivered Jan. 12, 2020, at Edgerton United Methodist Church, from the text Mark 1:4-11.

Star of Wonder

What was that star of wonder, star so bright? Who were those magi who followed it? Where did they expect it to lead them? These are among the questions we’ll pursue as we look at this ancient tale of international intrigue, murder and a small but significant refugee crisis.

I warn you, this message has too many moving parts, and we will follow that star by way of several rabbit trails, so hang on.

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a star! It’s a planet! It’s – well, what was thing in the sky, anyway? Over the years, commentators have suggested that it was a meteor, or a comet, or a supernova – the explosion of a distant star – or perhaps a special conjunction of planets.

Planets? Doesn’t the text say “star”? Well, the ancients were no dummies. They knew the difference between a star and a planet. But, just like us, when they looked up, they saw stars. They were more precise about what they saw only when they needed to be.

Hundreds of attempts have been made to identify the star of Bethlehem. With the aid of computers, we can now produce precise charts of celestial objects at any place on earth at any hour in the last few thousand years. But our calculations lack one key variable: the date of Jesus’ birth.

In the year we know as A.D 525, a solution was proposed by mathematically minded historian in Rome named Dennis the Short. Dennis devised a system for placing Christ at the center of human history. He divided time into two eras: BC, for Before Christ, and AD, for Anno Domini, in the year of our Lord. Dennis announced that Jesus was born on Dec. 25, 1 B.C., just a few days before the calendar flipped to A.D. 1. (Notice that there is no zero in between.)

Problem is, it appeared that Dennis miscalculated. According to his system, it looked like Herod the Great died in 4 B.C., nearly four years before Jesus was born, though obviously he was very much alive when Jesus was born.

Johannes Kepler, the great mathematician and astronomer, then calculated that Jesus was born in 7 B.C. during a rare conjunction of the planets Jupiter and Saturn. Kepler’s conclusion was widely accepted for 400 years. But in the last few years new evidence has emerged. It now appears that Dennis got it right, after all. Herod didn’t die in 4 B.C. but rather in the spring of A.D.1, several months after Jesus was born.

Star gazers are still searching their star charts in light of the latest data, and the identity of that bright object in the sky remains a mystery. Does it matter in the great scheme of things? Probably not.

On the other hand … any science fiction fans among you? I refer you to a short story titled “The Star.” It was written in 1954 by Arthur C. Clarke, author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, among many other works. “The Star” is one of the most famous and finest science fiction stories ever written. Reading it will cure you of the need to speculate about the identity of the Star of Bethlehem.

Sometime before the birth of Jesus, on or about Dec. 25, 1 B.C., the star is observed by magi in Persia. They interpret it to mean that a new king will be born in Judea. Why they interpret it so we cannot say. But off they go to find this baby king.

Dispelling the legends is important here. These were not kings, for one thing. For another, we don’t know how many of them there were. We only guess that there were three because they gave three gifts to the baby – gifts that were, indeed, fit for a king: gold and two kinds of costly aromatic spices.

For a long time, we’ve called them “wise men,” but I prefer to call them “magi,” because that’s what the gospel of Matthew actually calls them. They were astrologers, star gazers, magicians. They may have been valued as advisors in some royal court, or perhaps were considered court clowns.

They were wise in that they correctly interpreted the sign they saw in the sky. But they were not wise in other ways. By blundering into Jerusalem the way they did, they almost got baby Jesus killed.

Herod is called Herod the Great primarily to distinguish him from several of his sons who also were named Herod but were by no means great. Herod was a great builder. Two thousand years later, several of his monumental constructions still stand. But he was obsessively jealous of his power and viciously protective of it.

If we were to continue reading Matthew’s account, we would learn that Herod becomes enraged when the magi don’t report back to him, and he sends soldiers to kill all the young boys in and around Bethlehem. He wants to make sure this newborn king doesn’t live long enough to threaten his rule.

Outside of Matthew there is no historical record of this massacre, so some commentators doubt that it happened. But it so fits the pattern of Herod’s cruelty that we have no reason to discount it. After all, this is the man who wanted his soldiers to slay thousands of innocent people after he died so that history would record that there was great mourning at his death. Happily, that order was not carried out.

The story of the magi raises several questions.

One: Why are they apparently the only ones in the world who see the star and interpret it correctly? Why, for instance, didn’t somebody in Herod’s court notice it? Predicting the future through astrology was forbidden in Israel, but Jews did observe the skies carefully – not for signs that something would happen, but for signs that something had happened. How did they miss this? Maybe they just didn’t care.

That may also be the best answer for question two. After telling Herod that Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, why don’t the wise men of Israel immediately head for Bethlehem to greet him?

Don’t they believe their own interpretation of prophecy? Are they so jaded that they don’t believe God could do a great thing in their lifetime? Or are they just scared of what Herod might do? Are they afraid that if they start the parade to Bethlehem, Herod’s soldiers won’t be far behind?

Question three: Knowing that the king will be born in Bethlehem, why does Herod wait for the magi to lead him there? Why doesn’t he just send his soldiers now and get it over with?

Well, maybe he’s just trying to be crafty. Maybe he thinks that if he can identify this child, he can simply make him disappear, along with his parents and any other unfortunate witnesses. If he’s careful, hardly anyone will know what happened.

It all blows up, though, when the magi are warned in a dream and finally do something wise. They get out of town as fast as they can. Also warned in a dream, Joseph and Mary evacuate with the infant Jesus. They head southwest, to get out of Herod’s kingdom as quickly as possible, and seek refuge in Egypt.

Yes, our holy family are refugees. Those expensive gifts from the magi must come in handy on the long journey. Happily, there’s a large Jewish colony in Egypt where they can blend in and hide for awhile.

But what about those they leave behind in Bethlehem? It’s Joseph’s hometown, after all. Do they warn others on their way out of town, or leave the young boys to Herod’s wrath? And will Herod’s soldiers bother to distinguish whether they are killing boys or girls, or just kill children willy-nilly?

There are so many things about this story that we want to know and have no way of knowing. So we fill the gaps with legends about Gaspar and Melchior and Balthasar, and how they represent three races and three great civilizations, and about how there was a fourth magi who got sidetracked on the way, and an old woman named Befana who is still following that star, looking for that baby.

There’s also some clever speculation about the Wise Women – you know, the wives of the three Wise Men. According to this cartoon image, they follow the men and provide more useful gifts to baby Jesus and his family – fresh diapers, casseroles and lots of baby formula.

More than 20 years ago, our daughter Jennifer played a small role in a production of Conrad Susa’s opera “The Wise Women.” This was staged by the now defunct Civic Opera Theater of Kansas City. In this version, the wise women never get to Bethlehem. Instead, they are offered a private vision of the holy family.

We tell ourselves such stories because we believe that despite the actions of Herod and others like him, news of this baby’s birth does get announced to the world. People are told of Messiah’s birth. Lives are changed by this news.

We can’t know how the lives of the magi are changed. We only know that they return home, as Matthew tells us, “by another way.” It’s been suggested, of course, that after encountering Jesus we all must go by another way than we came. We all must go by the way of Jesus, as it is described in the gospels and the book of Acts.

These magi saw a sign in the sky, and they went looking. International travel was expensive and hazardous in those days. They searched at great personal cost, possibly at great peril. Because they weren’t nearly as wise as they thought they were, they got entangled in an evil monarch’s evil scheme. Sometimes our search gets off track, too. We think we’re following the light and end up being used or abused by evil. No one ever said that following Jesus doesn’t have distracting detours.

The star on the cover of our bulletin is an image I borrowed from the website of the Moravian Church of North America. Moravians and Methodists go way back, to the earliest days of the Methodist movement, when a young and confused John Wesley was mentored by Peter Bohler and others from the Moravian movement. We still have much in common.

The Moravian star normally has 26 points. Linda and I have a fairly large star that’s part of our outdoor light display. The star is supposed to stay up from the first Sunday of Advent until the day of Epiphany, which is officially tomorrow. So tomorrow our star will come down.

It’s OK. We talk about following the Star of Bethlehem, but if you read the story carefully, you’ll see that the magi actually follow the star only for a short distance at the end of their journey. It’s the meaning of the star that they pursue all the long way from Persia to Israel. Only briefly do they follow a light in the sky. Mostly, they follow what it means.

Similarly, we don’t follow a star. We follow the person to whom the star points. We follow Jesus, and we walk the Way of Jesus. The season of Christmas is almost over. Epiphany is dawning. Now we’ll see what the holy birth means to us.

So we’ve arrived, rabbit trails and all, at our true destination!

“Star of wonder” is a message delivered on Epiphany Sunday, Jan. 5, 2020, at Edgerton United Methodist Church by the Rev. James Hopwood. The text was Matthew 2:1-12.

Keeping Christmas

You know that Christmas is over for most of the world because the outdoor Christmas decorations are coming down, and Christmas trees already are set out by the curb for pickup with the trash.

It’s sad how quickly Christmas disappears every year. It’s also sad how few people celebrate Christmas throughout the entire 12‑day season.

If the birth of Jesus is the monumental event we proclaim it to be, then one day is hardly enough to celebrate it. If the birth of Jesus is the history-changing event we proclaim it to be, even a season of 12 days seems inadequate.

What we really need is a lifetime of celebration, a way to keep Christmas the whole year round, seven days a week, 52 weeks a year.

How can we do that? How do we keep the Christmas spirit alive in us not only for a day and not only for a season but for an entire lifetime?

One of my favorite secular texts for Christmas is A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. As the book opens, Ebenezer Scrooge is a miserable skinflint. By the story’s end he is a new man. He vows: “I will keep Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year.” Dickens concludes: “It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.”

Dickens never explains how Scrooge kept Christmas well, let alone how we might do it. I explore some ways we might try in my new book, titled Keeping Christmas. I’ve also assembled a list of things we can do to keep Christmas the whole year. This list is probably 20 years old, but it hasn’t changed much since I first put it together.

There are 12 days of Christmas, so here are 12 ways to keep Christmas alive.

No. 1 is simple and easy. Keep a favorite Christmas decoration (perhaps a small Nativity scene) out all year long. You probably do this by accident already. You’ve got all the boxes of decorations tucked away in the far corner of the attic or basement, and you discover something you missed. Why not keep one out on purpose, just to remind you of the season of joy?

No. 2. Sing a joyous song. Just as the angels sang glory to God, sing a Christmas carol, or listen to Christmas music, whenever you feel like it, even in July. I don’t mean “Frosty the Snowman” or other winter songs, but rather the songs of Christmas, songs of faith and hope and love and joy and peace.

One small church that I once served had no choir, so in place of the choir we had a brief hymn sing every Sunday. People would call out the name or number of songs that they wanted to sing. Two or three times year, whatever the season, someone would choose a Christmas carol. We all chuckled every time, but we still cherished those songs, no matter what time of year we sang them.

No. 3. In the tradition of Saint Nicholas, be a “secret Santa” to someone whose spirits you can lift with a simple service or gift. According to legend, Saint Nick was careful to give in secret, partly so that no one would feel indebted to him. It’s a great example to follow. One way to do it is to continue our Advent and Christmas Challenge through the next several days. Do something good for someone, and leave a card saying why you did it.

In other seasons, you wouldn’t want to use the card, but you might add a simple note that says, “From a friend,” or “Wishing you the best,” and leave it at that.

No. 4. Just as Jesus bore our sorrows, help others bear their sorrow over a significant loss. Send a card, make a call, drop by. Find some small way to let others know you care, and you share their loss, even if it does not directly affect you.

No. 5. Just as Jesus came to forgive, find it in your heart to forgive someone who has wronged you. Forgiveness is the essence of Christian life. It’s also very hard. We in the church don’t often model forgiveness very well, so the rest of the world lacks a good example to follow. Other people might understand forgiveness better it if we practiced it better.

No. 6. Just as Jesus came to heal, visit someone who is ill to ease their misery and speed their recovery. There are times when people aren’t up to visits and don’t want to be visited, and those are good times to stay away. But if you’ve ever spent more than a day in a hospital bed or sick at home, you know how boring it is, how quickly the experience saps hope from you, and how good it is to be visited by someone who cares.

No. 7. Bake cookies to help someone celebrate a special occasion, or take a meal to someone who is sick or moving or mourning. Sharing food is a good way of helping in many situations. Just be sure you don’t take cashew chicken to someone with a nut allergy!

No. 8. Bring a friend to worship the King whose coming you celebrate at Christmas. Notice that I said “bring” a friend. Don’t just “invite” a friend. Inviting someone is good, but you’ll have more success getting them to church if you offer to pick them up, and maybe even take them out to brunch afterward. It’s an easy and effective form of evangelism.

No. 9. When someone’s name or face crosses your thoughts, send the person a card or note to say, “I’m thinking of you.” That fleeting thought that reminds you of someone may be the Holy Spirit’s way of nudging you to get involved. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been glad I followed such nudgings, and how many times I’ve been sad because I failed to follow through. Maybe instead of a note or a card, you should simply make a phone call or arrange a visit in person. Do whatever the Spirit seems to be hinting.

No. 10 could have been No. 1. The best way to keep Christmas all year is to keep on celebrating. One of my favorite movies of the season is “The Muppet Christmas Carol,” a musical version of the Dickens story. Paul Williams wrote a song for it titled “Thankful Heart.”

It says we should live so that every evening will end and every day will start with a grateful prayer and a thankful heart. Whenever you wake up and whenever you go to bed, say, “Thank you, Jesus for coming into my life.”

No. 11 continues the thought. Let every sunrise and every sunset remind you that each day is a gift from God. Life is a gift. Cherish and celebrate it.

Finally, No. 12, above all else, live for Jesus in all you do. As another Paul Williams song from that movie says, use every breath you take to sing God’s praise.

Or as our text from the letter to the Colossians puts it, clothe yourselves with love and let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts – and whatever you do, in word, or deed, do it in the name of Jesus.

That is the spirit that inspires these final thoughts from Henry van Dyke, an American clergyman and educator who may be best known for his story “The Fourth Wise Man.” This is called “Keeping Christmas.”

There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.

Are you willing…

to forget what you have done for other people and to remember what other people have done for you;

to ignore what the world owes you, and to think what you owe the world;

to put your rights in the background, and your duties in the middle distance, and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground;

to see that other men and women are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy;

to own up to the fact that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are going to get out of life, but what you are going to give to life;

to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe, and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness.

Are you willing to do these things even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing…

to stoop down and consider the needs and desires of little children;

to remember the weakness and loneliness of people growing old;

to stop asking how much your friends love you, and ask yourself whether you love them enough;

to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in their hearts;

to try to understand what those who live in the same home with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you;

to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you;

to make a grave for your ugly thoughts, and a garden for your kindly feelings, with the gate open—

Are you willing to do these things, even for a day? Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world — stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death — and that the blessed life that began in Bethlehem two thousand years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love?

Then you can keep Christmas. And if you can keep it for a day, why not always? But you can never keep it alone. Don’t even try to keep it alone. But keep it, if you can, the whole year round.

May you continue to have a blessed Christmas season.

The message “Keeping Christmas” was delivered at Edgerton United Methodist Church on Dec. 29, 2019, by the Rev. James Hopwood. The text for the day was Colossians 3:12-17.

Love All

Joseph, who becomes the adoptive father of Jesus, initially wants nothing to do with him. Joseph has good reason to believe that his bride-to-be has been unfaithful to him. He resolves to wash his hands of this woman and the brat she will bring into the world.

Then he has a dream. An angel tells him what he should do. Accept Mary as your wife. Accept her child as your own. Name him Jesus, meaning “God saves.” For this is what the prophet meant when he wrote about a child named Emmanuel, meaning “God with us.”

God saves by being with us. God makes a personal investment in us by becoming one of us, walking with us, meeting us face to face, looking us in the eye.

We call this incarnation. You know how “chili con carne” means “chili with meat”? Incarnation means God with flesh on. God becomes incarnated in Jesus, present to us in a personal way in Jesus. In the words of the Apostle Paul, God empties himself in taking human form. (Philippians 2.7)

Surely God pours all of the divine self that is possible into this human form, but God becomes severely limited in doing so. The eternal Christ who becomes Jesus has to humble himself, Paul says. Literally as well as figuratively, he must lower himself to human level. (Philippians 2.8)

We can’t pretend to fathom how it works. It is beyond our understanding how God can be present to us in a singular way in the form of a limited human being while at the same time being everywhere present to everything and everyone as Lord of the universe.

It doesn’t cost God a dime to do this. Rather, it costs God everything. God comes to us as an infant wearing a diaper. The experience must be, in the fullest sense of the term, humiliating.

Think of some dignified grandfatherly or grandmotherly figure in your life. Now imagine that person humbling himself or herself to meet you as a little person in a diaper. That is only a fraction of the degradation God must endure in coming to us as Jesus. It’s only the start. It ends with Jesus, as naked and as helpless as the day he was born, dying on a cross, out of love for us.

No wonder Paul exclaims, “Thanks to be God for his indescribable gift!” (2 Corinthians 9.15)

The best gifts that we can give are somewhat like God’s gift. They are incarnational. They are personal. They may not cost much money. But they are very expensive in terms of our personal investment, all out of love for the one who receives them.

* * * *

We have turned it into a consumer event, but God coming to us as the infant Jesus is fundamentally a relational event. It is a giving of self.

The creators of the Advent Conspiracy suggest that we can worship God more fully by imitating such giving. They invite us to spend less on material gifts, to give more of ourselves to our loved ones and to love all by buying one less gift for a loved one and giving that money to a cause that will help people in great need.

In this way, we can begin to embody God’s love for all people. We can make our love real in our actions.

The Advent Conspiracy leaders tell a story to explain why it’s necessary for us to make our love real in such concrete ways. It’s a story that also explains why the initial focus of the movement was to drill wells in the name of Jesus.

They had gone to Africa with representatives of Living Water International to see firsthand the need for safe drinking water in developing nations. In Liberia, they met a village chief who told them that many of his people had died because of illnesses they got from their scummy, contaminated water source.

We will drill a well for you, they told the chief. We will do this in the name of Jesus.

The chief didn’t celebrate. He didn’t whoop and holler. He didn’t even smile. He just looked at them. They wondered whether he had misunderstood what they said. No, he understood. Then why wasn’t he happy? Because, he said, “Others have made promises in the name of this Jesus, but they were never kept.”

Others had promised to provide clean water in the name of Jesus, but none had ever provided it. Their intentions were good, but good intentions are never enough. People were still dying from water-borne diseases. To the people of this village, the name of Jesus meant only broken promises.

Better, perhaps, that we should never say the name of Jesus than say the name and fail to follow through. Better, perhaps, that we should fail to represent Jesus at all than to misrepresent him by failing to imitate him in our actions.

Let me tell you two stories that are so powerful that I am blown away by them. One story involves a fellow named Thornton. He is the son of a friend of mine. Thornton had a friend named Phil, who had kidney disease.

Phil was on the transplant list for several years, but his condition deteriorated to the point that he was going to die without an immediate transplant. Thornton donated one of his kidneys to save his friend Phil.

The second story is more complicated. It involves a young Gardner woman named Alli Shappel. You may have heard about her Thursday night on Fox4 News. She wanted to donate a kidney to her childhood pastor. But they weren’t a good match. So she volunteered to become what’s known as an “altruistic donor,” meaning that she would donate a kidney to a stranger, anyone in need.

That set in motion a chain involving four donors and four recipients, including her pastor. The kidney she donated didn’t go to her pastor, but it still saved him from dying of kidney disease.

Her pastor is Carl Olson, whom I’ve known for a dozen years. He’s pastor of First Baptist Church of Paola. I celebrate Alli’s gift that helped save Carl and others, and Thornton’s gift that saved Phil. But the enormity of these gifts weighs heavily upon me.

Obviously, there are limits to such heroic measures. While you are alive, you can donate a kidney only once. But doing it once is such an incredible act of giving.

The Advent Conspiracy is about spending less on frivolous things so that we can give more of ourselves in important ways. One important way is giving of ourselves to loved ones. Another is giving to others whom God calls us to love in a less intimate way.

It’s not enough to love those who love you, Jesus says. (Matthew 5.16) Everybody does that. God holds you to a higher standard. God wants you to love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22.39)

And who is your neighbor? Anyone in need. (Luke 10.25 37) That’s the gist of the story Jesus tells about the Good Samaritan. You show your love for God by showing your love for those in need.

Jesus says, “Whatever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, that you do to me.” (Matthew 25:40)

When we do good to someone, Jesus takes it personally. God takes all of our actions personally. That’s how important we are to God. And that’s why our behavior is important. Everything we do has consequences beyond ourselves. When we give to the least of our brothers and sisters, we give to God.

That is why on Christmas Eve you’ll have another opportunity to give to the Emergency Fund at Edgerton Elementary School. It helps teachers and administrators help children in need – when they show up in winter in shabby shoes, or no socks, or a shirt in tatters, or when they need underwear or soap or a toothbrush.

Children are truly the least of these. As much as we pay lip service to our children in this society, we don’t seem to value them very highly. If we truly valued them, would we constantly bicker about school funding? Would our foster care system and other safety nets so consistently fail them?

This offering is one way of showing the world that Christmas means more to us than brightly wrapped packages under the tree. It means the birth of God’s love in us. It means that we love God, and because we love God, we love all others who – like us – are created in the image of God.

It means not only that we have good intentions, but that we will make these intentions a reality through our actions.

We believe that when our hearts are oriented toward Jesus, the rest of the tenets of the Advent Conspiracy will fall into place. The way we spend, give and love will radically change when it comes from a place of true worship. And that, as we said at the start of the Advent season, is what life is all about. Life is a way of worship, a way of living to the glory of God.

* * * *

Early Christians calculated that Jesus was born on December 25, which was then the winter solstice. We just celebrated the solstice yesterday, on December 21. The date has drifted because of imperfections in the old Julian calendar.

The winter solstice is the first official day of winter. It’s the shortest day and the longest night of the year. From the summer solstice in June, the days have grown ever shorter, day after day. Now, at the winter solstice, the sun shines the least hours of all the year. As dark as it is, this is actually a day of promise. It is the day the sun is reborn. From this day forward, the days will gradually get longer.

It is truly the birthday of the Son – not the Victorious Sun of Roman mythology but the Son of Righteousness seen by the Hebrew prophets.

Symbolically, this is the perfect time for Jesus to be born. Our lives can’t get any darker than this. His birth offers us hope. In the deepest darkness of winter, God comes to us in person.

Whatever date it was, on whatever long night it was, Jesus was born at the midnight of our lives. He comes to us when we need him the most. God always comes to us when we need God the most.

Have a truly blessed Christmas!

“Love all” was preached on Dec. 22, 2019 at Edgerton United Methodist Church by the Rev. James A. Hopwood. Fourth Sunday of Advent, Matthew 1:18-25