Incarnation: Light of the World

I don’t like driving at night. I don’t trust my night vision. Especially on narrow country roads, I feel like I’m always driving over my headlights. I need just a little more light. So after dark I either stick to familiar roads, or I avoid getting out at all.

This is a major exception to my acceptance of an idea called “flashlight faith.” You know how a flashlight works. It casts a narrow beam of light for a limited distance. You can see only so far. To see farther ahead, you have to take another step ahead. The flashlight does not show your destination. It only shows the next steps you have to take to reach your destination.

That’s the kind of guidance God provides for us most of the time. God gives us direction one step at a time. We have to trust God one step at a time. And I do – but I’m still leery of country roads at night.

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The joyful Jewish thanksgiving festival known as sukkot falls in late September or early October. It’s also known as the Feast of Booths, because celebrants set up temporary booths in memory of the tents their ancestors lived in on the way to the Promised Land.

In the time of Jesus, the festival included an event called the Grand Illumination. Four candelabras more than 70 feet tall were erected in the Temple, and it was said that the light was so bright that it illuminated all of Jerusalem.

The light was a reminder of the pillar of fire that guided Israel through the desert. Now imagine Jesus standing in the Temple during the Grand Illumination and proclaiming: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

On this last Sunday of Advent, when we prepare ourselves for the coming of Jesus, we turn to one more title for Jesus: light of the world. He is the light we need to see ourselves as we truly are. In his light we can see the truth of our past, and our present, and our future. Only in his light can we understand where God is leading us, where we have strayed from the path, and how we can get back on track.

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Throughout scripture, light shining in the darkness is a symbol of God’s guidance. Remember the creation story in Genesis. God says, “Let there be light,” and there is light (Genesis 1:3). God sees that the light is good, so God separates the light from the darkness. This implies that darkness was the primordial reality, and it was not good.

“The way of the wicked is like deep darkness,” a proverb says (Proverbs 4:19).

The poets of Israel give God thanks for redeeming them from such trouble. Psalm 107 says: “Some sat in darkness and gloom, prisoners in misery and in irons, for they had rebelled against the word of God and spurned the counsel of the Most High. … Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and God saved them from their distress. He brought them out of darkness and gloom, and broke their bonds asunder” (Psalm 107: 10-15).

The prophet Isaiah sees our human need for a savior and God’s timely response. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined. … For to us a child is born, to us a child is given, and the government shall be on his shoulder, and he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:2, 6).

John’s gospel begins: “In the beginning was the Word. … In him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:4-5).

In Jesus, John says, “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world” (John 1:9).

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It is no accident that Jesus comes to us this time of year. It is widely believed that the date of Christmas was stolen from the pagans. As I show in my book Keeping Christmas, this is not true at all. When they began to celebrate Jesus’ birth on December 25, Christians had every right to believe that the date was correct.

Back then, December 25 was considered the Winter Solstice. The date of the solstice has moved forward four days our calendar drifts over time. Today we consider December 21 as the solstice. We also call it the first day of winter. To my mind, calling it that mutes the hope of the day, because the solstice is actually a day of hope.

The winter solstice occurs when the earth is at a particular point in its yearly circuit of the sun. On this day the sun shines the least number of hours and the night is the longest. But after the solstice, the sun begins to shine longer each day, and each night is shorter than the one before.

We may indeed be entering the deepest part of winter, but there is hope. After this, the days are getting longer and the nights are getting shorter! Light is coming into the world!

That is one of the reasons we will be offering a Blue Christmas worship time on Dec. 21, the longest night of the year.

It’s a recognition that long winter nights may be especially hard on those who have suffered the painful loss of a loved one. Especially in this season of joy, those whose joy is seasoned by sorrow may find it hard to celebrate. Blue Christmas reminds us that the light shines even in this darkness.

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“I am the light of the world!” Jesus declares. But he also says, to us, his followers: “You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14).

And we need to let that light shine. You don’t light a lamp and then cover it up. No, you put the lamp on a lampstand so its light can shine throughout the room. “In the same way,” Jesus says, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:15-16).

The first letter of Peter says we are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people – and we are called to proclaim the mighty acts of the one who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light (1 Peter 2:9).

The darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining in us, the first letter of John says. “Whoever claims to be in the light but hates a brother or sister is still in the darkness. Whoever loves a brother or sister lives in the light.” (1 John 2.8-10).

How are we the light of the world? We are the light when we reflect God’s light in acts of kindness and mercy and love.

Let me pass on a couple of timely stories from Martin Thielen, a retired United Methodist pastor.

Some time ago, in a suburb in Pennsylvania, there lived a Jewish family. Where other houses were decorated for Christmas, their house was decorated for Hanukkah. Hanukkah is the festival of lights, so they had a big menorah lighted in their front window.

One night they woke to the sound of shattering glass. Someone had smashed their window and destroyed the menorah. Their grandparents had died in Nazi concentration camps, and they knew what the sound of broken glass meant. They covered the window and went away to speak with family about what had happened.

When they returned that night, they were surprised to see that in the front window of nearly every home in their neighborhood was a large, illuminated menorah.

The second story concerns a family in Little Rock, Arkansas. They had many decorations in their front yard, including an inflatable black Santa Claus. They got an anonymous letter telling them to get rid of the black Santa and go back to where they belonged.

When they shared their story on Facebook, black Santas started appearing throughout their neighborhood.

“We are God’s plan for changing the world.” That’s what Adam Hamilton says in his book Incarnation, the inspiration for this series of Advent messages.

There are many ways of changing the world. Each of us has a unique way to do it. I encourage you to find a way to change the world that best suits your talents and temperament. Then do it. As Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see.”

The prophet Isaiah says this: “If you do away with the yoke of oppression, and the pointing finger and malicious talk, if you share your food with the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness …Your light shall break forth like the dawn” (Isaiah 58:8-10).

A simple act of goodness may not appear to do much to keep the darkness at bay, but it could ignite a flame of love. From simple acts grow larger acts, and movements and revolutions. A revolution of the heart starts with a tiny spark. Be the spark for others. Be the light for others, as Jesus is the light for you.

We are nearing the end of this Advent season. Christmas is only days away. Our celebration this year may be very different from others in recent years. However similar or dissimilar it is, are you ready to celebrate Jesus’ birth one more time? Is Jesus being reborn in you as you prepare for the day? Are you ready for the coming of Jesus?

I pray that you are, and that you have a very Merry Christmas!

This message was delivered online December 20, 2020 for Edgerton United Methodist Church in Edgerton, Kansas.

Incarnation: Emmanuel, God with Us

Your life is good, until something goes way wrong. You’re injured, or flattened by a sudden illness. All the plans you made for a special event go up in smoke, and you don’t know where to begin to start over.

You do something terrible, or people think you did, and you can’t imagine how you’ll face anyone again. You lose confidence in yourself. You feel worthless, not needed by anyone, not wanted by anyone.

In these times, you feel desperately alone. You feel like there is no one you can turn to for help. In these times, what you need is the assurance that, in fact, you are not alone, because God is with you.

That’s what the name Emmanuel means. It means, “God is with us.” It’s one of the titles of Jesus that we are looking at during Advent to prepare ourselves for the coming of Jesus. To see how God is with us as Emmanuel today, and how God has been with others over the ages, we’re going on a trek through history. This is a bit roundabout, so stay with me.

We begin about 750 years before the birth of Jesus. The kingdom founded by King David has split. The Southern Kingdom, called Judah, has its capital in Jerusalem. The Northern Kingdom, called Israel, has its capital in the city of Samaria. The two small kingdoms are constantly at each other’s throats, and they’re both threatened by the giant kingdom of Assyria.

Here’s a paraphrase of how the prophet Isaiah tells the story in the seventh chapter of the book that bears his name.

In the days when Ahaz was king of Judah, the king of Aram allied with the king of Israel to mount an attack Jerusalem. When word of the alliance got out, the heart of Ahaz and the heart of his people shook as the trees of the forest shake in the wind.

Then the Lord said to Isaiah, “Go to Ahaz and say to him, ‘Do not let your heart be faint because of these two smoldering stumps of firebrands. Their plot against you will not succeed. You must stand firm in faith.’ ”

Ahaz wavered, so Isaiah said: “Ask a sign of the Lord your God, any sign you like.” But Ahaz, the pious fraud, said, “I will not put the Lord to the test.”

Then Isaiah said: “Is it too little for you to weary mortals that you must weary God as well? Whether you want it or not, the Lord will give you a sign. See, the young woman is with child. She will give birth to a son, and she will name him Emmanuel. By the time he eats solid food and knows how to refuse evil and choose good, the lands of these two kings whom you dread so much will be a desert” (Isaiah 7:1-16).

The first sign of Emmanuel is to Ahaz, king of Judah. Ahaz is afraid that an alliance of two kings against him spells doom. God offers him a sign that he has nothing to fear from them. The sign is the son of a young woman. Who is she? Probably the wife of Ahaz, or possibly Isaiah himself. Why name him Emmanuel? Because it’s a prophetic sign name. It means “God is with us.”

Isaiah is really into prophetic sign names. At least two of his sons bear them. One is named Shear-jashub. His name means “A remnant will return.” That’s apparently a reference to the future devastation of Israel by Assyria.

Another son is named Maher-shalal-hash-baz. Can you imagine his mother calling him home for dinner? His name means something like “swift to the spoils, swift to the prey.” Here’s the interesting part: When God tells Isaiah to give the boy that jawbreaker of a name, God says, “Before the boy knows how to say ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy,’ the spoil of Aram and Israel will be carried away by Assyria.”

That’s very similar to the sign of Emmanuel, isn’t it? God says that by the time Emmanuel is weaned, the threat that Ahaz fears so much will evaporate. And how does Ahaz react to the sign? Apparently he just shrugs and goes on his way. He is not remembered as one of the brighter lights among Old Testament kings.

One important thing to note here is that the story has no interest in, and says nothing about, the virginity or non-virginity of the mother. The Hebrew word means simply “young woman.” The prophecy assumes that she gets pregnant the usual way. The prophecy is about her son; it’s not about not her.

One more thing to note, before we move on, concerns the nature of prophecy. Biblical prophecy is not about predicting the future. A prophet does not gaze into God’s crystal ball to predict future events in any deterministic way. Rather, inspired by God, a prophet speaks a word “on target” to his time and situation. The prophet says, “This is what God thinks of current events, and this is what God is going to do about it.”

Prophets pronounce a word of judgment or a word of promise. God’s word to Ahaz was a promise that the threat he feared would evaporate. It’s a promise illustrated by the birth of a boy with a name that affirmed the promise: Emmanuel, God is with us.

Fast forward 800 years. Jesus has been dead 40 or 50 years, and the writer we know as Matthew is poring over the scriptures while piecing together the story of Jesus. He’s writing a gospel, and he’s looking for texts that show how Jesus fulfills God’s plans for Israel. But he has a story that has no parallel in the ancient texts.

The story is about a virgin named Mary, who is engaged to a man named Joseph. Before they come together as husband and wife, she gets pregnant. Joseph determines that he will not expose her to public disgrace, but will quietly dissolve the marriage agreement.

Then he has a dream. An angel of the Lord appears to him says, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:18-21).

The Old Testament knows nothing of any virgin birth – at least not in the original Hebrew text. But in the relatively recent Greek translation known as the Septuagint, Matthew finds the solution to his problem. The Greek version of Isaiah chapter 7 reads like this: “Look, the virgin will conceive and give birth to a son…”

It’s a bad translation. It’s so bad a translation it even gets the verb tenses wrong. Isaiah says the young woman is already pregnant; the Greek version says the virgin will become pregnant. Matthew surely knows this, but the prophecy fits his story too well to ignore. It implies something special about the manner of Jesus’ birth, but more importantly it foreshadows who Jesus is. Jesus is Emmanuel. Jesus is “God with us.”

So Matthew reports: “All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us” (Matthew 1:24-25).

When Matthew says that Jesus’ birth “fulfills” the prophecy of Isaiah, he’s not saying that Isaiah predicted the birth of Jesus. He’s saying that an ancient prophecy of Isaiah finds new meaning in the birth of Jesus.

He’s saying, “Look, this is just like Isaiah – only better!” A child is conceived in Mary through the power of the Holy Spirit. His name is Jesus, meaning “God saves.” In Jesus, the symbolic name Emmanuel becomes real because Jesus really is “God with us,” and he really will save us.

Again, let me say that Isaiah never predicted a virgin birth. If he had, he would have looked pretty silly when it didn’t happen when he said it would, and wouldn’t happen for another 750 years.

Matthew is reinterpreting an ancient prophecy to make it relevant to his time and situation. He does that a lot in his gospel. Time after time he says that something Jesus does “fulfills” a prophecy. It’s not that any prophet predicted that Jesus would do this. It’s that a prophet pronounced a promise from God, and Jesus fulfills that promise. Jesus gives the promise new meaning. Whatever the prophet’s saying meant in its original context, it finds new meaning in the life and ministry of Jesus.

Here’s another example from Matthew. After Jesus’ birth, Mary and Joseph flee with the baby to Egypt, fearing the wrath of King Herod. When they hear that Herod has died, they make plans to return home. Matthew comments: “This was done to fulfil what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt I have called my son’ ” (Matthew 2:15)

That’s a reference to Hosea 11:1, where the prophet quotes God as saying: “When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son.” It’s a reference to God liberating Israel from bondage in Egypt. It’s a reference to the past, not to any future event, and it’s certainly no prediction of the future. But Matthew quotes it, as if to say, “See, just as God once called Israel out of Egypt, now look: God is calling God’s son back home from Egypt.” Matthew quotes it to say, “Just as God was faithful once long ago, God again was faithful here.”

In the same way, we can appreciate stories of God’s faithfulness long ago, and be encouraged by them today. Whatever Isaiah’s prophecy meant in the time of Ahaz, Matthew found new meaning in the prophecy in the time of Jesus. And we today can continue to find new meaning in this and other ancient prophecies. We can find new signs of promise and hope in these words today.

After all, remember Jesus’ last promise to his disciples, as recorded in Matthew 28:20: “Remember, I am with you always.” That’s the promise of Emmanuel. Whatever our circumstance, God is with us, whatever our failing, whatever our need, God is with us.

Now we recognize that this promise is no panacea for everything that ails us. This is not a promise that God will bail us out of every jam or keep us from all harm. It is a promise that God is always there for us. And it does not seem that God intervenes directly in our lives. Most often, God works through other people. They are the angels in our lives.

I am thinking specifically now of a young man who is dear to me. He has had a recurring health problem. Just last week, through the intervention of one doctor, he will get to see another doctor, a specialist who may be able to help him. Surely, God is with him. No flutter of angel wings. No announcements from on high. Just one person doing what is best for another. Isn’t that the way God normally works in our lives? Isn’t that the way God is usually with us?

May you be comforted in knowing that whatever is wrong, God is there, one way or another. Amen.

This message was delivered on line December 13, 2020, for Edgerton United Methodist Church.

Incarnation: He’s Our Savior

You know that I rarely tell jokes. So today I’m going to start with a joke. Not only that, it’s one I’m sure you’ve heard before.

There’s a fellow who lives by a river, and one spring day there comes a huge rain, and the river keeps rising. A deputy in a Jeep pulls up to the house and says, “You’ve got to evacuate right now. Hop in.”

But the homeowner says, “No, thanks. I have faith that God will save me.”

Not much later, the water has risen high enough that he has to run upstairs to stay dry. Now a rescuer in a boat shows up and says, “You’ve got to evacuate now while you’ve got a chance.”

And the homeowner says, “I’ll be OK. I’m sure God will save me.”

Finally the water is so high that the man has to crawl up on his roof. He’s clinging to the chimney when a helicopter spots him and starts to lower a rope ladder. But he waves it off, yelling, “God will save me.”

The helicopter moves on, the water keeps rising, and the man is swept away and drowns. At the pearly gates, he complains to God: “I had faith in you. Why didn’t you save me?”

God replies: “I sent you a Jeep and a boat and a helicopter. What more do you want?”

We all need a savior, don’t we? We can’t save ourselves, and much of the time we’re too blind to see and too stubborn to accept salvation when it’s offered to us.

This is the second week of Advent. Our guide to the season this year is Adam Hamilton’s book Incarnation. We can’t begin to fathom how God becomes human in Jesus, Adam says, so we’re exploring some of the reasons why God does it. We’re doing that by looking at some of the titles that scripture gives Jesus.

Last week we looked at Messiah and King. This week we’re exploring the title Savior.

Salvation is so important a concept that the New Testament mentions it 150 times. So it’s no accident that the One whose birth we celebrate at Christmas was named Jesus – in Hebrew, Yeshua. The name means “God saves.”

That’s why Mary and Joseph are both told, “You are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21, Luke 1:31). On the night of his birth, angels tell shepherds: “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)

The whole Christian witness may be summarized in 1 John 4:14: “We have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be Savior of the world.”

“Are you saved?” Ever been the target of that accusatory question?

I was in a supermarket one day when an earnest looking young man shoved his face very close to mine and asked, “Are you saved?”

He meant well, I suppose, but I wanted to say, “God save me from the likes of you.”

Another time, I was sitting in an airport restaurant with my family when another young man came flying by, slapping a yellow card on each table. It was this “Get out of hell free” card. That and a couple bucks will get you a cup of coffee some places.

I am so sick of people selling Jesus as fire insurance. The great comedian Groucho Marx used to have a TV game show called “You Bet Your Life.” He’d tell contestants, “Say the secret word, and the duck will come down,” and you’ll win a prize. So many Christians today have turned salvation into a tawdry game show. “Say the magic prayer and the dove will come down,” and you win eternal salvation!

I cringe every time I see those signs on the highway: “Do you know where you will spend eternity?” Not, I hope, in the earthly hell created by some churches and their cheap chatter about salvation. It’s too important a thing to be belittled by such nonsense.

We are being saved from sin, of course. We’ve cheapened that word, too. We say, “That coconut cream pie was sinfully delicious.” Eating sugary pie may be bad for your health, but it’s not a sin. In the Bible, sin is frequently described as straying from the path or missing the mark.

Ever been hiking and got on the wrong trail? Sometimes it’s easy to find your way back. Sometimes you have to pray the sun doesn’t go down while you’re still lost. Not all paths lead to the same place. You need to be on the right path if you want to reach the right destination.

We’re all “prone to wander,” as the old hymn has it. It’s not that we want to, or are even conscious of wandering while we’re doing it, but suddenly we realize we’re not where we expected to be and not where we want to be. That’s knowledge of sin.

“Missing the mark” is another biblical description of sin. It’s comes from the world of archery. Ever sight down an arrow at the target and let fly and then wonder why the arrow didn’t go anywhere near where you were aiming? Same thing in golf. Here you are, ready to tee off, and there’s the flag at the pin way down there. Do you really think you can hit the ball close to it?

These colorful descriptions are meant to suggest how we get into sin, but don’t let them distract you from the seriousness of it. Sin is the human condition, and the condition is deadly. We use the word “sin” two ways. “Sin” singular refers to our state of being, a predisposition to do what’s wrong. “Sins” plural are those wrong acts. What makes them wrong? They reveal a lack of love. They harm others.

So you can define sin, if you like, as an inescapable tendency to do unloving things that harm others. We all do it all the time. James W. Moore wrote a book titled Yes, Lord, I Have Sinned, But I Have Several Excellent Excuses. We all have great excuses, don’t we, but none of them is good enough.

Salvation from sin has several dimensions, and in the Bible the word “salvation” can have several meanings. It can mean healing. It can mean rescue. It can mean deliverance. It can mean forgiveness.

Salvation from sin means release from the guilt of it, though not necessarily of all its consequences. You may be forgiven for defrauding or stealing from someone, but you still may serve prison time for the deed.

Perhaps most importantly, salvation changes your relationship with God. When you sin, you feel guilty and you have no interest at all in communing with God. You feel alienated from God. You feel like there’s nothing you can do to regain God’s favor.

In fact, you never lost God’s favor. God may be momentarily disappointed in you, but God will never stop loving you. Salvation removes that barrier between you and God that was always there in your mind only. God saves you from the illusion that God hates you. God restores you to favor by reminding you that you were loved all along.

More than 50 years ago, Kansas City jeweler Barnett Helzberg started giving away little red buttons that said “I Am Loved.” It’s a wonderful way to remember the point of it all: You are loved. God loves you.

God loves you, and God wants to save you from whatever guilt is holding you down; whatever shame keeps you from stepping out of the darkness into the light; whatever hopelessness keeps you awake at night; whatever despair nags at you every moment; whatever sense of meaninglessness you have that tries to tell you, “You’re nothing – you’re worthless.”

It’s a lie! God loves you, God wants to forgive you, and God wants you to turn away from all the lies that hold you down and turn toward the salvation that God has for you.

Last week I said that Advent has three dimensions: past, present, and future. Salvation is similar. Salvation is not just a single act once upon a time in your life. Salvation is a dynamic, continuous action in your life. You are saved. You are being saved. You will be saved.

Saying “yes” to Jesus is a bit like saying “I do” at your wedding or a citizenship ceremony or a swearing-in for public office. You’re making a commitment, but you’ve got to live it out. You may be forgiven now, at this moment, but you’re going to need constant forgiveness from this point on.

Happily, as 1 John 1:9 tells us, we know that God is faithful and just, and if we confess our sins, God will forgive us and keep cleansing us anew.

Salvation is a daily growth in grace. You are not where you should be. You are not where you want to be. But you are being remade into what God created you to be, and one day you’ll look back with great satisfaction and say, “Thank you, Jesus, for saving me, again and again and again.”

Everyone loves to quote John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Don’t forget the next verse, John 3:17, which says, “God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,” but to save it.

Jesus saves our world by being born into it, accepting our limitations as his own, living here as one of us, taking a stand for us, and dying for us – but even more than that, being raised to new life for us and ascending to his Father’s side to forever be Emmanuel, God with us.

Or as the Apostle Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, quoting a hymn that already appears to be familiar to believers:

“Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.

Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:6-11

The name Jesus means “God saves,” and Jesus is our Savior. We meditate on that and other names for Jesus as we prepare during Advent for the coming of Jesus. We prepare to celebrate his birth on December 25, and his rebirth in our hearts every day, and one day his return to set all things right, to complete our salvation.

Jesus doesn’t need a Jeep or a boat or a helicopter. But don’t scoff if you’re in a tough spot and one comes by offering help, because one way or another, Jesus really wants to save you.

Amen.

This message was delivered online December 6, 2020, to Edgerton Untied Methodist Church.

Giving Thanks Giving

As we approach Thanksgiving 2020, many people are asking, what in the world have we got to be thankful for this year?

The holiday itself will be much different than any other in memory. So many gatherings have been canceled. So many of us will not see family except by FaceTime or Skype or Zoom.

The deadly virus that has stalked us for nine months did, briefly, appear to be tamed, but now it has roared back with a vengeance. Such an unsettling year – so many dead, so many still sick, so many jobless because our economy is in tatters, so many people hurting in so many ways.

On top of this layer a bitterly contested election season, and a president who lives in a bizarre fantasyland and won’t peaceably pass the baton to his duly elected successor.

The election results only certify what many of us have known for a long time – that we are a divided nation. We may occupy the same physical space, but we live in different worlds. Such division cannot be good for our future. There is talk of civil war – both among those who don’t want it, and among those who do.

Meantime, the clock of global warming ticks on. We are in the midst of the most active hurricane season on record. Drought and gigantic forest fires threaten the landscapes we love. Every day we don’t act to stop it, catastrophe moves closer – and we may already have reached the tipping point, beyond which only more bad things happen.

We have so many losses to grieve – loss of friends and loved ones to the virus, loss of confidence, loss of feeling secure, loss of hope.

So we have to ask, what in the world have we got to be thankful for this year?

At the risk of stating the obvious, let’s start with the obvious. Let’s start at home. I presume that all of you viewing or reading this message are doing so from a snug, dry and warm house that is connected to a safe water supply and a good wastewater system. I also presume that you have enough to eat, that you are not seriously ill, that you have some source of income, though you may feel sorely stretched at this time.

All told, that’s a pretty good foundation for thankfulness, don’t you think? Millions of people around the world would be deliriously thankful if they had even half those things.

Let’s dig a little deeper. We’ve heard a lot of speculation recently about the possible presence of water on the moon and on the planet Mars. Water is one of those things that makes life as we know it possible. Whether there is – or at one time was – life on the moon or on Mars, we should be thankful that the conditions have been right for life to flourish on planet earth.

Beginning with the creation stories in the book of Genesis, the witness of the Bible is that we humans are not a random accident but the gift of a generous Creator who has fashioned this world with us in mind and gives us the resources to survive and thrive in it. That doesn’t mean that life isn’t sometimes difficult, but that it’s always possible, and that purely because of the grace of God.

For these things are others, we give God thanks and praise. In a common table blessing, we say “God is great, God is good.” We give thanks because of who God is – God is great – and because of what God provides for us – God is good. We conclude that prayer by saying, “Let us thank God for our food.” It’s a table blessing, so we usually we don’t bother to mention everything else that God gives us.

We give God thanks for what God gives us. For us, giving is always an act of thanks, and thanks is always an act of giving.

That statement is a little dense, so let me unpack it. First, giving is always an act of thanks. We give in gratitude for what we have to give. You might think that if we had more, we would give more. But sadly, that’s not necessarily so. Those who have the least are often the most willing to give the most to others, while those who have the most often give the least, and then begrudgingly.

It’s a matter of gratitude, of being thankful for what you have. Somehow living in plenty can dull your sense of gratitude. It’s as if the more you have, the more you think you deserve it all. And the least you have, the more you understand that everything you have is a gift from God.

It’s like grace itself, as Paul says in Ephesians 2:9. It’s a gift of God, not the result of works, so that no one may boast.

Yes, your hard work may have something to do with what you have, but please don’t live in the delusion that you are a self-made man or a self-made woman. So much of what you have is pure gift, a matter of time and circumstance over which you had no control.

If giving is always an act of thanks, then thanks is always an act of giving. So many people find it hard to say a simple “Thank you” that it’s a major act of self-revelation and self-giving for them to do so. Whereas, so many of us say “Thank you” so glibly, so easily, that you wonder if we really mean it, even when we do.

Last week I read that in Korean churches, people have the habit of giving not only their tithes and extra offerings but also special offerings to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, job promotions – whenever something good happens in their lives. It’s like the “happy dollar” that members of Rotary and Kiwanis and other service clubs give to celebrate things that make them happy. Such giving is truly an act of thanks.

That’s the human dimension of thanksgiving. The divine dimension is different. God’s giving to us comes not from thanks but from love, the source of all things. And God does not thank us for our giving, though surely God exults in it. Every time we give freely, God must shout, “Hey, he gets it! Look, she understands!”

The whole witness of Scripture is that we ought to give thanks to God.

A clear refrain runs throughout the Old Testament. “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever.” You’ll find that multiple times in the Psalms especially, but also in the Chronicles and in the books of the prophets.

Give thanks to God, for God is good and God’s steadfast love endures forever. In the New Testament, Jesus models behavior that affirms that saying, and the Apostle Paul encourages it in his letters to various churches.

To the Thessalonians, he writes, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).

Note especially two things. Note first, that Paul says we should give thanks in all circumstances. No matter how good or how bad things are for us as the moment, we should give thanks for all the good we have been given.

Note second, that Paul does not say “give thanks to God for all circumstances.” He says we ought to give thanks in the midst of all circumstances, but he does not say that we should give thanks for all circumstances.

Paul is no masochist. He recognizes that good things come from God but not all things that come to us are good or from God. You’d think that would be obvious, but some Christians deny it. Some Christians are trapped in an awful theology that says that God controls everything, God determines each and every event, so that every act of pain in your life and mine is God’s doing, and we ought to thank God for it, good and bad alike.

You can believe that if you like, but I think it’s absolute rot. I do not believe that God causes us pain to teach us spiritual lessons. It is true that God teaches us spiritual lessons through our pain, because God always works to produce good from bad. But God does not micromanage our lives, and God is no more a masochist than Paul is.

There is one place where Paul appears to say that we ought to give thanks for everything. That’s Ephesians 5:20, but I think here he’s talking about giving thanks for everything for which we ought to give thanks – that is, everything that’s good.

I think that’s the attitude he shows elsewhere. In Colossians 3:16, he says: “With gratitude in your hearts, sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God.” In Philippians 4:6, he says, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.”

I think the best statement about gratitude comes from James the brother of Jesus. In James 1:17, he says: “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights…”

Every good and perfect gift is from above. The bad stuff comes from elsewhere. The good is a gift from God. Or, as Amy Grant says in her song titled “Hope Set High,” “When it all comes down, if there’s anything good that happens in life, it’s from Jesus.”

For sure, 2020 has been a crummy year. God may yet work some good from it, as God works for good in all circumstances. But overall this has not been a good year. Can we still say “thanks” on Thursday? Yes! Because we truly have so much to be thankful for. If nothing else, we have so far survived this crummy year. And because we have survived, we have learned that we can still give God praise, even in the midst of difficulty.

O give thanks to the Lord, for God is great and God is good, and God’s love endures forever. And if anything good happens in our lives, it comes from Jesus.

Amen.

This Sunday was delivered remotely on November 22, 2020, the Sunday before Thanksgiving.

Incarnation: Messiah and King

The King is coming!

That’s the theme of Advent. The word Advent means “coming.” Advent is our season of preparation for the coming of Jesus. It’s a three-dimensional season. Its three dimensions are past, present and future.

First, we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus. That was 2,000 years ago, and we’re still celebrating. Second, we pray for the spirit of Christ to be reborn in us today, both as we prepare to celebrate his birth and – this is that third dimension – as we look forward to that day when he will return to establish his kingdom in full.

Three dimensions: First Coming, rebirth in us today, Second Coming.

So often we celebrate the First Coming with gusto but somehow miss having Christ reborn in us – and, as to his Second Coming, we either ignore the possibility altogether or we focus so closely on it that we lose all contact with our present reality.

A truly three-dimensional Advent balances all three. We want to celebrate that event in Bethlehem two millennia ago, but we also want to make room in our hearts for Jesus to be reborn today, and we want to stay open to the possibility of his return at any moment, aware that we cannot know that moment ahead of time.

We sure need Advent and the promise of Christmas right now, don’t we?

Have you noticed? Even before Thanksgiving, a lot of people put up their outdoor Christmas lights and had them blazing away every night. We need those lights to shine hope into the darkness of our days and nights.

Think of all that has happened in the last month alone. On Nov. 1, we turned the clocks back an hour. I’m still not used to it being dark at 5 o’clock. The nights seem so long already! Is that what lies ahead this winter?

Two days after changing the clocks, we had local, state and national elections. But our current president, whom some call the sorest loser in American history, still insists that he won, still insists on sowing chaos and discord in everything he does.

As if we didn’t have enough of that already, thanks to the global pandemic! Strangely, some people still deny its reality. Yet more than 261,000 Americans have died from COVID-19 or its complications, and the toll of infection and death continues to spiral ever higher.

So many of us just celebrated Thanksgiving without seeing beloved family members, and we wonder if Christmas will be the same. And because Thanksgiving falls so late this year, Christmas will be upon us even faster than usual. Our life today is like riding a roller coaster that keeps speeding up!

Don’t you think it’s about time for our King to make an appearance? Don’t you think it’s high time for our Savior to show up? Don’t you think it’s the right time for the Light of the World to shine his light brightly over all creation?

Our King is coming! We know that. We place our trust in that promise. But are we ready for it? Not likely. Advent is the time we have to get ready.

Our guide to Advent this year is Adam Hamilton’s book titled Incarnation. Sadly, we won’t be able to offer a small group study of it, but I will try to represent it fairly in my messages, though you know I’ll go my own way when I feel prompted.

What does it mean to say that Jesus is God incarnate? How does God become embodied, enfleshed, in Jesus? How is Jesus both divine and human? Ultimately, Adam says, the how is a mystery. It’s something beyond our comprehension. Yet we can celebrate the mystery of how while we explore the why of it. Why would God come to us as Jesus? What is God’s purpose in doing this?

Adam explores these questions in terms of seven titles given to Jesus in the Bible. The first two are Messiah and King.

We call Jesus the Christ. What does that mean? Christ is the English version of christos, which is the Greek version of the Hebrew word mashiach, or Messiah.

Mashiach Yeshua, we say – Christ Jesus, or Messiah Jesus.

Messiah means God’s Anointed One. In the Hebrew Bible, both priests and kings are anointed with oil as a sign of commissioning to their office by God.

You may remember the story from 1 Samuel chapter 16. God sends the prophet Samuel to Bethlehem to anoint one of Jesse’s sons as the new king of Israel. One by one, seven of Jesse’s sons pass by, and each time God tells Samuel, “Nope, not him.”

Finally Samuel asks Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And Jesse says, “Well, there’s the youngest one. He’s out keeping the sheep.” “Fetch him now,” Samuel says. And God tells the prophet, “Anoint him. He’s the one.” And, our narrator says, “the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward” (1 Samuel 16:1-13).

David became Israel’s greatest king. He was the standard against whom all later kings were judged and found to be deficient. Yet God promised that one greater than David would one day rule Israel, and David’s throne would be established forever (2 Samuel 7:16).

The prophet Jeremiah writes: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David” (Jeremiah 23:5).

Jesus is that righteous branch. He is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah speaks: “A child has been born for us, a son given to us. Authority rests upon his shoulders, and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

It is really hard for us to imagine a king, let alone a king of peace. Happily, our experience with kings and other strongmen is mostly second-hand. But we’ve seen the damage they do in other countries. How would you like to live under the rule of the crown prince of Saudi Arabia, or Kim in North Korea, or Putin in Russia?

The Jews of Jesus’ day wished for an ideal king, but what specific ideals he would embody were widely debated. Some wanted a military hero like David who could free his people from domination by the Romans. Some wanted a poet and philosopher like David, someone who was close to God’s heart, as David was said to be, and would lead his people to spiritual freedom, if not political freedom as well.

Jesus could not fulfill all expectations, and he did not even try. As Adam says in his book, he didn’t campaign for lower taxes, more jobs and a chicken in every pot. He never promised to make Israel great again.

He stayed true to himself and to his Heavenly Father. He avoided flawed human conceptions of power and authority. He spoke of welcoming the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and caring for the sick. And for these things he had to die, because he was a Messiah nobody wanted.

In Advent, we prepare to welcome him as our King. But before we do that we need to get something straight in our heads. Jesus is King, and no other.

Adam says that Advent puts all our political wrangling into perspective. “Whatever Christians think about their president,” he says, “and whoever we voted for in the various elections, we are meant to know that there is only one King. It is to him we give our highest allegiance.”

He continues: “Advent beckons all who consider themselves Christians – regardless of whether they are Republicans, Democrats, Libertarians or Independents – to come to the stable and there fall on our knees as the shepherds surely did, yielding our allegiances, our hearts and our will to the newborn king.”

Jesus is king, and Jesus alone. No president is, or ever can be our king, and no president can ever claim our highest allegiance.

We hear a lot about “Christian nationalism” these days. It’s an idolatrous mixing of loyalties. There is no such thing as Christian nationalism because elevating nation above all else is simply not Christian.

“Follow me,” Jesus says. That’s all he asks, and he does ask all. If Jesus is not first in your life, you’re not a follower of Jesus.

If you are American first and Christian second, you’re not Christian. If you are Republican first and Christian second, you’re not Christian. If you are Democrat first and Christian second, you’re not Christian. If you are anything first and Christian second, you may be a something but you’re not Christian.

If your highest loyalty is not to Christ your King, then you’re a traitor to Christ. You cannot claim Christ as king if you serve any other master. For, as Jesus says, you cannot serve two masters. You’ll always hate the one and love the other. You’ll be devoted to one and despise the other. (Matthew 6:24, Luke 16:13)

Now do you better appreciate what it means to say Christ is my King?

Our King is coming! That’s what this Advent season is all about. Our King is coming. He came once, he is coming again today in our hearts, and one day he will return. Our King is coming. His name is Mashiach Yeshua, Messiah Jesus, Christ Jesus, King Jesus.

He’s our King. He’s the only King we’ll ever need. He’s the only true King we’ll ever have. If he’s not your King today, I invite you to make him so. Lift up Jesus as your King. Welcome to new life. Welcome to true life. And on this first Sunday of Advent, we say, Maranatha, come King Jesus!

Amen.

This message was delivered remotely November 29, 2020, on the First Sunday of Advent.