Isaiah 2:1-5
With all the emphasis that we place on individual piety, salvation, and holiness, we sometimes forget that this spiritual journey was never designed to be a solitary walk. When we are remade in Christ, we become parts of a whole body, members of a family, ambassadors and citizens of a kingdom. Our successes are not ours alone, and we are not the only ones who live with the consequences of our failures.
The future that Isaiah envisioned which provides our Advent reading for Day 2 occurs during a period of decline for Israel and Judah, symbolized in darkness. Yet the prophet imagined not only the restoration of the local and nationalistic fortunes of Israel and Judah, nor even just the reunion of these estranged family members. No, he imagines a restoration of universal significance, centralized in the image of light that comes from the mountain of the Lord. This new kingdom has a just sovereign who will make things right, making it safe for nations to retrofit their weapons and turn them into tools, and put war strategists permanently out of business.
But it's this last sentence that strikes a chord with me today as I spend time thinking about Christian community. "Let us walk in the light of the Lord." It's the message I think we're supposed to take from Advent. If we really catch the vision of the future that God promises, we can walk now in the light of it and encourage each other to do the same. Even if we're in the dark, if we can see the light ahead and continuously point it out to one another, we can make it through the night.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Love Letters
1 Thessalonians 3:9-13
I miss letters. Although I am fond of phone conversations, emails, and texting, I miss getting mail that is not bills. I miss seeing familiar handwriting on the envelope, the anticipation of hearing the news and reading the sentiments of those I love. I miss update letters - especially those that are individually written and not a form sent to everyone - telling me what I've missed since the last time we spoke. I miss make up letters, first steps to reconciliation. I miss love letters, missives that detail in writing and thus concretize emotions deeply felt. I miss letters. What I miss most about letter writing is the ability to run across the letter after months or years of not having read it and remembering again the emotions that the first reading elicited.
It is instructive, I think, to remember that the biblical books we describe with the technical word epistles are actually letters. They were in most instances written by an author and intended to be read aloud in a community to communicate the author's perspective, theology, and even emotions. Taken this way, the section from 1 Thessalonians that we read in this first Sunday of Advent is actually a love letter and a make-up letter. First, it comes from Paul, whose relationship with the saints at Thessalonica was tenuous, or at least so he feared. He tested the waters through his emissary Timothy and discovered that all was well. Hang in there, he wrote. I can't wait to see you.
Indirectly, though I am reading this and other Advent lessons as letters from a more intimate and much more deeply awaited source, that is, Jesus himself. Through Paul and sometimes through preachers, Jesus sends his message of love by emissaries, not because he doesn't already know where we stand but because he wants to reopen communication. He too is saying, "I can't wait to see you." And I hear him saying, "I am coming to see you." At once, I am elated and petrified.
Paul again steps in. If you want to be ready for your Beloved's appearance, then get your heart right. No need to fear. This is a love letter.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Family Table
A sermon preached at St. Paul's Baptist Church, 1000 Wallace St. Philadelphia PA 9 August 2009
The Family Table
John 6
In the hustle and bustle of contemporary life, many of us hurry through everything, including our meals. We “grab” something and “wolf” it down in the midst of or while in transit to something else. More and more, this unhealthy behavior characterizes the eating habits of children as well as those of busy adults. Yet within the past several years, research has emerged that links positive outcomes socially, emotionally, and physically with the experience of regularly dining at the family table. Not only do children eat a more balanced diet, with more fruit and vegetables, but there is evidence that they are also less likely to engage in delinquent social behaviors when they sit down with their parents for bonding time at meals. The article continues, "Just the act of eating together is on some level beneficial." (Click here for complete NY Times Article.)
The scenes of this entire chapter take place was by the Sea of Galilee, the site where Jesus had originally called some of his disciples and where he had attracted great crowds because of the miraculous signs that he performed on behalf of the sick.
The time was near the Passover feast, itself the family meal that commemorated God’s rescue of the Israelites from slavery. Spending time with his disciples, Jesus notices the crowds coming from the distance. The ever observant Jesus perceived the condition of the approaching masses and in it a teachable moment for his disciples. “Where shall we buy bread for the crowd that's on its way?” he asked his crew.
What followed was yet another demonstration of human limitation overcome by divine providence. Philip the questioning disciple focused on their limitations. Andrew looked at the situation with a different eye. He had taken account of the boy with a lunch. "I don't know what we can do with it, but there is a boy who has a lunch," Andrew said. By the end of the story, there was enough and more than enough to feed all who took a portion until they had all that they wanted and were satisfied.
What is striking about Jesus’ distribution of the resources is that he gave away nothing before the people sat down. Before he gave thanks, broke the bread, or distributed the fish, Jesus commanded that the great crowds come to rest. The lesson, of course, is one of obedience. The disciples cannot be used if they will not obey. In fact, they are not even disciples at all if they won’t FOLLOW. The crowds cannot be fed unless they accede to the command to sit down. We have but little distance to walk to discover that the satisfaction of the Christian life is elusive if we do not take heed to Christ’s voice.
But there is significance in the content of the command to be seated. In bringing order and quiet to those who would dine through his miraculous provision, Jesus instituted and presided over the family table, prefiguring the table he prepared at the Passover with his own broken body and shed blood.
Not long ago, President Obama invited two men who were having a very public, acrimonious dispute,Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Sergeant James Crowley, over to the White House for a beer. Let’s come together on common ground the president said. Let’s sit down at the table. Let’s look at one another and have conversation. Coming from different backgrounds and experiences, encountering on another first in the contentious context of mistaken identity - now let’s come together in table fellowship. The beer? Just a little something for attitude adjustment, a drink in common to bring us to a compatible level. Now you have to know that Gates and Crowley would likely never have come together for a beer or anything else on their own. But because the President called and invited them to the White House, they responded to the specialness of the President's invitation.
I hear the Savior say “I am the bread of life.” And while I wouldn’t mind an invitation to the White House to sit down to the table either inside the house or on the White House lawn. While I wouldn’t mind having a tomato plucked from the white house vegetable garden. While I would mind dining off the fine china from which presidents and heads of state have eaten, I recognize the greater privilege and the more nourishing meal is the one I share with my brothers and sisters every 2nd Sunday morning at St. Paul’s Baptist Church.
I hear the Savior say, Anyone who comes to me will never be hungry. Anyone who believes in me will never be thirsty. I am the living bread who comes down from heaven. My flesh is real food. My blood is real drink.
Jesus knows even better than we do how different we are: ages, status, gender, nature, tastes, desires : This is my body which is for YOU (pl.) Do this and think about me. This is my blood shed for YOU for the forgiveness of sins. Do this and think about me. Just as the passover was celebrated with a family meal, so also our deliverance is celebrated with a meal. And if a beer between enemies can lead to common ground, how much more can the bread of life shared among sisters and brothers?
The Family Table
John 6
In the hustle and bustle of contemporary life, many of us hurry through everything, including our meals. We “grab” something and “wolf” it down in the midst of or while in transit to something else. More and more, this unhealthy behavior characterizes the eating habits of children as well as those of busy adults. Yet within the past several years, research has emerged that links positive outcomes socially, emotionally, and physically with the experience of regularly dining at the family table. Not only do children eat a more balanced diet, with more fruit and vegetables, but there is evidence that they are also less likely to engage in delinquent social behaviors when they sit down with their parents for bonding time at meals. The article continues, "Just the act of eating together is on some level beneficial." (Click here for complete NY Times Article.)
The scenes of this entire chapter take place was by the Sea of Galilee, the site where Jesus had originally called some of his disciples and where he had attracted great crowds because of the miraculous signs that he performed on behalf of the sick.
The time was near the Passover feast, itself the family meal that commemorated God’s rescue of the Israelites from slavery. Spending time with his disciples, Jesus notices the crowds coming from the distance. The ever observant Jesus perceived the condition of the approaching masses and in it a teachable moment for his disciples. “Where shall we buy bread for the crowd that's on its way?” he asked his crew.
What followed was yet another demonstration of human limitation overcome by divine providence. Philip the questioning disciple focused on their limitations. Andrew looked at the situation with a different eye. He had taken account of the boy with a lunch. "I don't know what we can do with it, but there is a boy who has a lunch," Andrew said. By the end of the story, there was enough and more than enough to feed all who took a portion until they had all that they wanted and were satisfied.
What is striking about Jesus’ distribution of the resources is that he gave away nothing before the people sat down. Before he gave thanks, broke the bread, or distributed the fish, Jesus commanded that the great crowds come to rest. The lesson, of course, is one of obedience. The disciples cannot be used if they will not obey. In fact, they are not even disciples at all if they won’t FOLLOW. The crowds cannot be fed unless they accede to the command to sit down. We have but little distance to walk to discover that the satisfaction of the Christian life is elusive if we do not take heed to Christ’s voice.
But there is significance in the content of the command to be seated. In bringing order and quiet to those who would dine through his miraculous provision, Jesus instituted and presided over the family table, prefiguring the table he prepared at the Passover with his own broken body and shed blood.
Not long ago, President Obama invited two men who were having a very public, acrimonious dispute,Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Sergeant James Crowley, over to the White House for a beer. Let’s come together on common ground the president said. Let’s sit down at the table. Let’s look at one another and have conversation. Coming from different backgrounds and experiences, encountering on another first in the contentious context of mistaken identity - now let’s come together in table fellowship. The beer? Just a little something for attitude adjustment, a drink in common to bring us to a compatible level. Now you have to know that Gates and Crowley would likely never have come together for a beer or anything else on their own. But because the President called and invited them to the White House, they responded to the specialness of the President's invitation.
I hear the Savior say “I am the bread of life.” And while I wouldn’t mind an invitation to the White House to sit down to the table either inside the house or on the White House lawn. While I wouldn’t mind having a tomato plucked from the white house vegetable garden. While I would mind dining off the fine china from which presidents and heads of state have eaten, I recognize the greater privilege and the more nourishing meal is the one I share with my brothers and sisters every 2nd Sunday morning at St. Paul’s Baptist Church.
I hear the Savior say, Anyone who comes to me will never be hungry. Anyone who believes in me will never be thirsty. I am the living bread who comes down from heaven. My flesh is real food. My blood is real drink.
Jesus knows even better than we do how different we are: ages, status, gender, nature, tastes, desires : This is my body which is for YOU (pl.) Do this and think about me. This is my blood shed for YOU for the forgiveness of sins. Do this and think about me. Just as the passover was celebrated with a family meal, so also our deliverance is celebrated with a meal. And if a beer between enemies can lead to common ground, how much more can the bread of life shared among sisters and brothers?
Friday, June 12, 2009
Young Enough to Do Something Different
Today marked another first for me in my new ministry as pastor of the St. Paul's Baptist Church. Although I was the officiating minister for a funeral last Saturday, today I gave my first eulogy as pastor. Mrs. Clara Gilliam Lightfoot was born in 1912 and had been a member of St. Paul's for 70 years. She had not been able to come to church for some time, but she did have the opportunity to vote in the pastoral election a few weeks ago. The deacon who provided her with the absentee ballot remarked that although she knew that her vote was by secret ballot and therefore confidential, after seh placed her marked ballot in the envelope she volunteered, "Clara Lightfoot has done something different. I just voted for the woman."
Of course I smiled to know that Mrs. Lightfoot would have been pleased with the pastor at her funeral, but more than that I was struck by what extraordinary liveliness she had even in her last weeks. If anyone has an excuse for holding on to the familiar and maintaining the status quo it is the person who has lived for 97 years. But I am thinking that the willingness to embrace new things, a delight in doing "something different" (especially when that something is a good and right thing) may very well be the reason why Mrs. Lightfoot lived as long as she did.
This week I heard several moving and challenging sermons and lectures at the Hampton Ministers' Conference. I felt convicted and encouraged by the sermons of Dr. Claudette Copeland. I reflected and repented because of the word placed in Dr. Renita Weems's mouth. And I recommitted to preaching with boldness because of what Dr. William Curtis preached. But as Dr. Copeland herself made clear in her sermon on Wednesday, sometimes the prophetic is mediated through a life. In Mrs. Lightfoot's final act as a member of St. Paul's Baptist Church, God spoke to me: No matter how old we get, we're always young enough to do something different. Message taken.
Of course I smiled to know that Mrs. Lightfoot would have been pleased with the pastor at her funeral, but more than that I was struck by what extraordinary liveliness she had even in her last weeks. If anyone has an excuse for holding on to the familiar and maintaining the status quo it is the person who has lived for 97 years. But I am thinking that the willingness to embrace new things, a delight in doing "something different" (especially when that something is a good and right thing) may very well be the reason why Mrs. Lightfoot lived as long as she did.
This week I heard several moving and challenging sermons and lectures at the Hampton Ministers' Conference. I felt convicted and encouraged by the sermons of Dr. Claudette Copeland. I reflected and repented because of the word placed in Dr. Renita Weems's mouth. And I recommitted to preaching with boldness because of what Dr. William Curtis preached. But as Dr. Copeland herself made clear in her sermon on Wednesday, sometimes the prophetic is mediated through a life. In Mrs. Lightfoot's final act as a member of St. Paul's Baptist Church, God spoke to me: No matter how old we get, we're always young enough to do something different. Message taken.
Monday, June 1, 2009
It's Time
Pentecost Sunday at 10th and Wallace was a special occasion because it marked my first Sunday there as pastor of St. Paul's Baptist Church. Here's the basic sermon I preached.
It’s Time
Acts 2:1-21
In one of the most famous passages in all of Holy Scripture, the Preacher says, To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven. Text from Ecclesiastes so much lives up to the wisdom tradition that its sentiment is borrowed, its phrases cribbed and cited in everything from wedding and funeral rites to Pete Seeger lyrics. You don’t have to be spiritually astute to observe its truth. We all know that life is seasonal.
Generally, when all our seasons seem to flow predictably, the seasonal nature of life feels easy, commonplace. Peaks and troughs, ups and downs – after winter comes the spring, after spring comes summer, after summer comes fall, after fall comes winter, and then we do it all again.
But at are other times where there is breakdown, disruption, death, and destruction, then the words of the Preacher, either the biblical one or even the local ones in our pulpits seem empty.
Easy to rejoice in the cycle of seasons when the season you’re in is fruitful. But when you’re in a drought, in a desert, in the midst of the famine –
When the grass is withered and the flowers have fallen
When the leaves are brown and the trees are bare
When the ground is hard and the springs are dry
When the harvest is past and the summer has ended and we are not saved
Sometimes the winter lasts longer than three months
In those times, to hear that life is seasonal is cold comfort indeed.
Remember last year at the first signs of financial trouble? Analysts and pundits observed the declining market and described it as “correcting”. Don’t worry, they said, the economy has natural peaks and troughs. John McCain, the Republican nominee, could without shame declare himself basically ignorant about the economy and still hope to be elected president by reason of his expertise in the truly important matters, such as national security. But by the fall, when the downturn and potential recession threatened to devolve into an out and out depression, suddenly the cycle of economic seasons didn’t seem so natural, and John McCain the presidential candidate had to “suspend” his campaign to attend to economic matters. When blue-chip stock sells for a penny we realize that there are seasons and then there are CATASTROPHES.
In catastrophic times, when someone declares “Your season is coming” – nothing drowns out the demand of the question “But when?”
Nothing prompts ask the question “when” as much as our acknowledgment of a promise from God. In fact, one way to know that we really believe that God has made us a promise is that we become anxious and impatient for the promise to be fulfilled. More than the question of what, where, who, or even why or how, whenever the promise of God comes to us, it the question of when that dominates
When will I (fill in the blank)
When will we (fill in the blank)
When will the church ever (fill in the blank)
This question of when in the minds of Jesus’ disciples forms the backdrop to this morning’s text. Having seen God do the extraordinary in Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples actually grasp that God had been making them a promise that God intended to fulfill, and so they ask, “When will the restoration be?” Jesus’ instruction to them is embodied in the command for them to stay in Jerusalem and WAIT. But I can hear them traveling back to Jerusalem and spending all their time between the ascension and Pentecost asking the question, “Is it time yet?”
Time is by definition: A nonspatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future.
In God’s timing there is a the story of previous deliverance and salvation interwoven into the promise. There’s always a past. After all, God has been working in us for so long. And even the present glory is linked to past deliverance.
Pentecost was an ancient feast celebrating harvest, the feast of weeks measured from the barley harvest (at Passover) to the harvest of wheat (at Pentecost) also commemorating the giving of Torah (divine law)
After the disciples had gathered in obedience and handled the business of replacing Judas in their number, then the Spirit declared, “It’s time.” And I came to announce to St. Paul’s on this Pentecost Sunday that “It’s time!”
I want to make clear that there are some signs that the announcement of God’s working in our time is true. For the announcement that God is at work to be the truth then there are three things that must accompany the announcement.
First, there is divine visitation – I am so grateful that all of us have gathered this morning in the house of worship. I’m thankful for the deacons in their place, the ushers in theirs, the choir in theirs, the musicians in theirs. I’m thankful for my friends who have traveled and for this congregation who have come together in this one place and with one accord, but if GOD doesn’t show up in the building, our gathering is in vain. What we have come to do is to prepare the altar and to bring the living sacrifices of our whole selves. But we need is for God to send the fire.
When I was growing up, we sang a chorus that declared, “O Lord I come, withholding nothing. And I have but one desire. All I have is on the altar. And I pray, Lord, send the fire.”
People manufacture fire but it’s not God’s fire. People blow hot air but it’s not God wind. God’s wind blows where it wills and we hear its sound, but we cannot control it and we cannot even predict it. In fact, no matter how long we have been waiting for it, whenever it comes it still feels “sudden.”
Second, there is supernatural communication. The tongues divide and the disciples are given supernatural utterance, both the ability to speak and the words to say. Then the multicultural crowds of those who hear them are able to hear in their own languages God’s marvelous deeds of power. Some people say that the miracle was a miracle of speech, in that the disciples were ecstatically enabled to communicate in a language they had not studied. Others say the miracle was in the hearing of the listeners, that the Spirit translated for them. I am clear that real communication requires both speech and hearing, both articulation and understanding. And when God’s Spirit decides that “It’s time” God fills the spaces and makes communication across cultures and other divides possible.
This does not mean that the scene was without confusion and disbelief. God’s timing, vision, and presence activated among us will sometimes cause people to think we’ve lost our minds. But there will be others – sometimes a few, sometimes the many – who will hear for themselves and take hold of God’s promise.
Finally, the third sign of God’s timing is Christ-centered proclamation. God pours God’s Spirit out on all flesh to enable us to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ. There is a divine vision for humanity, embodied and enfleshed in the life of Jesus Christ. We tell that story about his birth in Bethlehem, his openness to the outcast, his care for those who were left out. We tell the story of how much he loved us. We tell that he gave his life on Calvary, but that his story does not end on Golgatha nor in Joseph’s new tomb, but on that first Easter he arose with power. And his story still has not ended.
It’s time.
It’s God’s time.
It’s our time.
When is the time of restoration? Now is the acceptable time. When is the day of salvation? Today, is the day of salvation. And everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.
PENTECOST WAS A COMMENCEMENT – the first Sunday in a great new era.
Not only is there a past (history), a present (opportunity), in God alone it can be said that there is always a future (hope). Spirit that brooded over creation now dwelling in the disciples prompts us to ask “What plan is God hatching?”
The reality is that there is a cry louder and more significant even than our own cries for a change of seasons. There is a community that has looked upon the buildings called churches and community centers and perceived in them a promise from God.
Hungry ask when will be fed
Naked ask when will we be clothed
Homeless ask when will we have homes
Broken ask when will we be mended
The poor ask when will we have provisions
The oppressed ask when will we be freed
The imprisoned ask when will we be visited
The children ask when will we be educated
And our answer in the name of the Lord is “It’s time”
Yes, St. Paul’s it’s time
It’s praying time
It’s preaching time
Praising time
Planting time
Healing time
Building time
Laughing time
Gathering time
Searching time
Keeping time
Mending time
Singing time
Dancing time
Working time
Serving time
It’s time for justice, mercy, walking humbly
It’s my time, it’s your time, it’s our time, and it’s the time.
It’s time for the wind and for the fire
It’s God’s time
It’s just time.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
A Real Fast
Isaiah 58:1-12
Here we are at Lent again. And this year I have to say that while I knew I needed it, I wasn't in a hurry to get started on the Fast. I even admitted to a congregation where I was preaching that I was eating everything that wasn't nailed down in advance of the Lenten fast. Somehow, I think that probably was not the best physical or spiritual decision. But my own lack of moderation does bring me to this Lenten season with the useful reminder that I need to fast to get me off of the treadmill of self-destructiveness.
The truth is that I had been eating everything that wasn't nailed down for months. The approach of Ash Wednesday didn't really change my eating habits; it simply made me aware of them. Even before the beginning of my Lenten fast, the self-evaluation that Lent brings was already at work to help me see how out of control I was. Thank God!
What I am praying for, then, in this season is that the analysis will go deeper than the issue of what I eat or don't eat. I am praying that just as the Lenten fast has already broken the chains of overeating, especially desserts, that it will also reveal and break other habits and attitudes that keep me from the best that God has for my life and for my relationships in community.
This is the point of the text from Isaiah in which God makes clear to self-indulgent people that abstinence from certain foods and other comforts is not a real fast, or at least not the fast that pleases God. The real fast happens when our awareness goes deeper and our behavior changes. If we fast but do not see, then what kind of fast are we really on? If we fast while we quarrel, then who does the fast really bless? Our choice to go without is not important if it is not accompanied by a will to make sure that everyone has what she/he needs. Our willingness to starve ourselves for a day or even forty means little when we are inattentive to the people who are starved daily because greed and injustice.
I am praying that this Lenten fast develops into a real fast that heeds the call to get right with God, our neighbors, and ourselves. Thank God!
Here we are at Lent again. And this year I have to say that while I knew I needed it, I wasn't in a hurry to get started on the Fast. I even admitted to a congregation where I was preaching that I was eating everything that wasn't nailed down in advance of the Lenten fast. Somehow, I think that probably was not the best physical or spiritual decision. But my own lack of moderation does bring me to this Lenten season with the useful reminder that I need to fast to get me off of the treadmill of self-destructiveness.
The truth is that I had been eating everything that wasn't nailed down for months. The approach of Ash Wednesday didn't really change my eating habits; it simply made me aware of them. Even before the beginning of my Lenten fast, the self-evaluation that Lent brings was already at work to help me see how out of control I was. Thank God!
What I am praying for, then, in this season is that the analysis will go deeper than the issue of what I eat or don't eat. I am praying that just as the Lenten fast has already broken the chains of overeating, especially desserts, that it will also reveal and break other habits and attitudes that keep me from the best that God has for my life and for my relationships in community.
This is the point of the text from Isaiah in which God makes clear to self-indulgent people that abstinence from certain foods and other comforts is not a real fast, or at least not the fast that pleases God. The real fast happens when our awareness goes deeper and our behavior changes. If we fast but do not see, then what kind of fast are we really on? If we fast while we quarrel, then who does the fast really bless? Our choice to go without is not important if it is not accompanied by a will to make sure that everyone has what she/he needs. Our willingness to starve ourselves for a day or even forty means little when we are inattentive to the people who are starved daily because greed and injustice.
I am praying that this Lenten fast develops into a real fast that heeds the call to get right with God, our neighbors, and ourselves. Thank God!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
What Kind of People?
Isaiah 40:1-11
Mark 1:1-8
2 Peter 3
Advent 2
Bad news about our economy abounds these days. Once-in-a-generation unemployment rates, one-half million jobs lost in November alone, the big three US automakers in the death throes, record-high mortgage foreclosures, consumer confidence in the dumps, along with myriad other statistics and projections leave us wondering how bad it's going to be and how long we and it can last. At the heart of the volatility in the markets is a crisis in confidence, an awareness of our fundamental uncertainty as to where and when this downturn will end. Looking into such a scary future, we might even wonder whether it will end.
The three lectionary texts for the second Sunday in Advent have in common their assurance that everything eventually comes to an end. Isaiah emphasizes the promise of God that trouble doesn't last always. No matter how intense the trauma or hopeless the prospects, God's infinite lovingkindness insures that those who wait on the Lord have a good ending. Mark's gospel presents the preamble to the whole Gospel's message in that John the Baptizer's presence in the wilderness represented the end of a very long wait for God's people.
But it is the message of 2nd Peter that gets to the heart of the issue for us. After reminding the impatient and fainting believers that God will make good on the divine promise, the author then turns the spotlight on the community of faith: Since we know all of this, what kind of people ought we to be? In other words, since everything, including the world, will end, what do we want to be doing when the end comes?
Beloved, the church has something to offer that our culture at this moment sorely tneeds: a holy perspective. Even when we would want to forget, the message returns to us and like the prophet cries, "All flesh is grass." But the fact that everything on earth is in transition from its seed to flower then back to dust doesn't leave us hopeless; it points us to a more stable foundation. Our own frailty reminds us to seek a God who is neither frail nor fallible and whose word will stand. Grass withers, flowers fall, markets crash, people die, but the Word of our God stands forever. That's good news that we should share.
Sing, "Hold to God's Unchanging Hand"
Mark 1:1-8
2 Peter 3
Advent 2
Bad news about our economy abounds these days. Once-in-a-generation unemployment rates, one-half million jobs lost in November alone, the big three US automakers in the death throes, record-high mortgage foreclosures, consumer confidence in the dumps, along with myriad other statistics and projections leave us wondering how bad it's going to be and how long we and it can last. At the heart of the volatility in the markets is a crisis in confidence, an awareness of our fundamental uncertainty as to where and when this downturn will end. Looking into such a scary future, we might even wonder whether it will end.
The three lectionary texts for the second Sunday in Advent have in common their assurance that everything eventually comes to an end. Isaiah emphasizes the promise of God that trouble doesn't last always. No matter how intense the trauma or hopeless the prospects, God's infinite lovingkindness insures that those who wait on the Lord have a good ending. Mark's gospel presents the preamble to the whole Gospel's message in that John the Baptizer's presence in the wilderness represented the end of a very long wait for God's people.
But it is the message of 2nd Peter that gets to the heart of the issue for us. After reminding the impatient and fainting believers that God will make good on the divine promise, the author then turns the spotlight on the community of faith: Since we know all of this, what kind of people ought we to be? In other words, since everything, including the world, will end, what do we want to be doing when the end comes?
Beloved, the church has something to offer that our culture at this moment sorely tneeds: a holy perspective. Even when we would want to forget, the message returns to us and like the prophet cries, "All flesh is grass." But the fact that everything on earth is in transition from its seed to flower then back to dust doesn't leave us hopeless; it points us to a more stable foundation. Our own frailty reminds us to seek a God who is neither frail nor fallible and whose word will stand. Grass withers, flowers fall, markets crash, people die, but the Word of our God stands forever. That's good news that we should share.
Sing, "Hold to God's Unchanging Hand"
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