Advent 2: In the Wilderness, Prepare!

 Isaiah 40/Mark 1:1-8

          

            “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas … Everywhere you go”

            For a brief moment – late Thursday night and early Friday morning – I sort of felt like singing this song.

             It snowed! 

            Something I have been told NEVER happens here.

             It snowed, and it was a surprise, and one of my friends said she and her husband just drove up and down the streets near them because then they could see the snowflakes hitting the windshield. 

            Simple pleasures. 

            And in the morning there was this light coating of snow, and when my husband went to the store for a couple of things, he said that everyone was in good spirits there –talking and wishing each other a Merry Christmas!

            “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas ….. Everywhere you go….”

            It reminded me of preparing for Christmas when I was a little girl, and when my dad and I would go out to get the tree, and we’d drive in that snowy cold winter air like they have up north and we’d sing this song all the way to the Christmas tree lot. 

            Because for some reason or another, snow, a beautiful blanket of snow, said Christmas to us.

            It was part of the Christmas preparations, and we expected it, but we couldn’t make it happen.

            It’s beginning to look a lot like – Christmas.  

            Everywhere you go. 

            But what does “Christmas” look like?  

            The image that the prophet Isaiah paints is something else – not preparation for Christmas but preparation for the Kingdom of God .              “Prepare the way of the Lord”, the prophet says – and it’s a huge construction project.

            The valleys will be raised up and the mountains made low and the crooked places straight, because God is going to make an actual appearance. 

            Isaiah is speaking to people who have been in exile, who have been conquered by their enemies and sent away – people who may feel both hopeless and desperate – but also perhaps – feel the weight of their own unfaithfulness. 

            They had turned away from God. 

            But now – now they were living far away from their home and they were dislocated from the things that made their faith real to them.            The temple was gone.  Had God left them too? 

            They were like people who associated snow with Christmas – living in a land of no snow. 

            They were refugees looking for a place to worship – a place that looked like home. 

            And the prophet was saying to them – God is going to make an actual appearance.  Prepare the way of the Lord. 

            It’s a big construction project because the people know that they need a big construction project. 

            They need God to come to them.   

            They need an actual appearance by God.    And In Isaiah, God promises that they will get it. 

            God is coming to them.  Prepare the way.

            But Isaiah says something more than that.  He doesn’t just say, “Prepare.”  He says, “in the wilderness prepare….”  And I have been wondering about this lately. 

            In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord.   

            Is this important? 

            What does it mean?  Why prepare in the wilderness?  It’s the place where the people wandered for 40 years before entering the promised land.

             It’s the place where Jesus went to be tempted for 40 days.  The wilderness can be beautiful but it can be barren and it is dangerous. 

            And it is where we are.

            Aren’t we?  I can’t help thinking this.

             I’m seeing pictures of fires burning in Los Angeles.  I hear stories of refugees with no place to go.

             I remember the devastation of flooding in Houston, in the Caribbean, in Puerto Rico. 

            People celebrating at a concert in Las Vegas are murdered, and people worshipping at a church in Sutherland Springs. 

            And more and more, I hear the language of “them and us” … if we disagree with each other, we use the language of contempt.   It seems like the wilderness to me.

            And then there are the small and individual stories I hear about:  the woman who asks me to pray for her husband, who has depression.  The teenage boy dying of cancer.   The woman grieving the loss of her sister.   

            In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, the prophet says.  Because that is where we are. 

            God is going to make an actual appearance – where we are, in the wilderness.

            I will tell you now that one of the hard things this summer was finally moving out of our home in Minnesota. 

            Not because I didn’t want to move, but because – well – moving is just hard work, even when you know it’s hard, it turns out to be even harder.

             And while we were moving I found out that there was a new member of the family – my great-niece was born – and I desperately wanted to meet that little baby. 

            But it was all moving all the time, and there wasn’t time to go and see her.

             I remember one night thinking if I wasn’t so tired, I would just like to meet that little baby, but not having the energy to do anything about it, and my nephew sent a little video of her. 

            And you know, it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t an Actual Appearance – but it was something.

            And finally, when we were back this week, they all came over to my mom’s house, they all came over for supper, and I got to meet her. Lyric is her name.  Like the song. 

            And I got to hold her.  And sing to her.  “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas… everywhere you go.” 

            Not because of the snow.  Because of a child.

            In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, the prophet says to us.

             Because that is where we are.  He is coming to us there.  He’s coming to bring life.  He’s coming to bring peace.  He’s coming to bring love.

            And he says, “Repent.” 

            Which means a lot of things, but one thing is “turn around.” 

            Turn around because we are always looking in the wrong places for God, and we’re looking in the wrong places for salvation. 

            We’re looking inside ourselves, we’re looking at powerful people.  But God is coming to us in the wilderness, God is coming to us where it’s cold, and where we are vulnerable, and where we are grieving. 

            God is coming to us in weakness, in a baby in a manger, in the cross where we crucified him.   

            God is coming to us not in power, but in weakness, not in revenge but in love. 

            Prepare the way of the Lord. 

            Turn around and open your arms, and your heart.

            Turn to your neighbor, turn to the stranger.

            Let it be true:

            For you. 

            Because you see it.  Because you bring it.

           

            It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.  Everywhere you go.

            Let every heart prepare him room.

            AMEN

           

            

Christmas Day Sermon: "The Most Beautiful Feet in the World"

This is the sermon I preached this morning for Christmas Day worship.  The story is adapted from a wonderful story I found over at Luther Seminary, called "Christmas Moccasins", by Ray Buckley.  The Hymn of the day was the "Huron Carol."

Isaiah 52:7-10

John 1:1-14

          The night was cold and the moon was bright one Christmas eve, when a grandmother and her grandson started on a journey together. 

They held hands as they walked.  The grandmother’s moccasins made barely a sound in the soft snow. 

She always wore moccasins.

While they walked along quietly, the grandson wondered why they were walking this way, and through these woods together. 

He remembered – and he wondered if the trees remembered – what had happened here earlier in the winter –what had happened to his grandmother and him. 

He wondered if the trees remembered how three drunken youths had stopped them as they walked along, how they had hit them, and knocked them down. 

How they had stolen both of their coats, and his grandmother’s moccasins. 

He wondered if the trees remembered that his grandmother had walked home barefoot in the snow, and that frostbite had taken two of his grandmother’s toes.

            And he wondered why they were walking this way again, on Christmas eve.

            When the boy and his grandmother had returned home that evening months before, they had not spoken to one another. 

Grandmother had heated up water for drinking, and for washing, and they had washed their faces and soaked their feet.

Then she splashed water on her face, and she began to pray. 

            She took out small beads that evening, and she began to sew new moccasins. 

She was a remarkable beader.  It was an art. 

She used the smallest, most beautiful, most colorful beads, and she began right away to sew new moccasins.

            *****

            “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,” says the prophet Isaiah in the first reading today. 

Today – Christmas Day – it is the message that we focus on – “Peace on earth, good will to all.” 

That is the message of Christmas – and it's a joyful message. 

Originally, the messenger brought news of the return of the exiles – and the good news was that the Lord was returning to dwell in Jerusalem. 

It’s a joyful message, and I’ll confess to you, that when I’ve heard these words, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,” I’ve often thought of Julie Andrews, singing with all of her heart as she runs through the hills.  

"The Hills are alive..."

 “How beautiful on the mountains…..”  

 Today we focus on the message, the message of peace on earth, the message that God is dwelling among God’s people…..

            But today, Christmas Day, I want to focus on – the feet.

            Have you ever wondered about that?  How beautiful are the FEET? 

Why not how beautiful are the eyes?  Or how beautiful is the mouth? 

Or even, how beautiful are the hands?   Why beautiful feet?  Because when I think of the word “beautiful” I don’t often think of the word “feet”. 

When I think of the word “feet” – I think more of how tired feet can be after a long day of working, I think of feet that are dirty after walking, I think of feet pounding the pavement, feet walking the malls searching for presents. 

I think of feet that walk and pace with babies who need calming, feet that go out searching for lost dogs. 

And I think of the feet of the long-distance runner.  And then I think that the messenger’s feet must have been tired, after delivering such an important message, walking and running over valley and mountain, rivers and deserts.  

            “How beautiful are the feet…..,, not just the voice, and not just the eyes, and not just the hands, but how beautiful are the feet

– the feet that take you there, to Jerusalem, or to any place that needs peace, that needs to know that God is present. 

How beautiful are the feet – because the feet walk the earth, the feet get tired, the feet go to the places that need healing hands and words of forgiveness. 

“How beautiful are the feet….” Because it’s so important to go, it’s so important to be there, not just in Jerusalem, but here. 

How beautiful are the feet that walk the halls of hospitals, and how beautiful are the feet of the ones who break bread with the hungry,

And how beautiful are the feet of the ones who hold hands with the dying, and how beautiful are the feet of the ones who shelter the homeless. 

            How beautiful are the feet of the one who announced, and who brought peace. 

How beautiful are the feet of the one who walked this earth, healing us and feeding us and shedding tears and bending down and washing feet.

            And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and walked among us.  How beautiful.

            ****

            So the boy and the grandmother walked that Christmas eve. 

They held hands, and they held gifts. 

They held three pairs of moccasins.  They were the moccasins that the grandmother had begun sewing earlier that winter, that very night when they were attacked.  They were beautiful and finely beaded. 

The grandmother had prayed all the while she beaded them. 

And she did something rare and beautiful when she beaded those moccasins.  She turned them over and she even beaded the bottoms. 

Then she wrapped them up in paper.  And she prayed.  She splashed water on her own face, and she splashed water on her grandson’s face.  It was how she prayed.

            Then they put on their coats and stepped on into the snowflakes.

            The grandmother paused at the top of a low hill,  and she paused  to pray again.  The boy’s heart pounded.  “Why are we here?”  he asked.  “Why are we going to see them?  On Christmas eve? 

The grandmother answered, “We are here to do the Creator’s work.  We are here to do the Creator’s work.”

            How beautiful are the feet……

            The walk from the top of the hill to the house below seemed to take forever.  Their steps grew slower as the snow swirled around them.  But they finally reached the doorway.

            The door was opened by a large man.  Behind him was a tree covered with Christmas lights.  “I have small presents for your sons,”  grandmother said.  “May I give them?”  She handed each a package carefully wrapped, and she said to each,  “I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.  God bless you.”

            The room was quiet.  The three  pair of moccasins lay in three sets of hands – they sparkled in the light, with red and blue, white and yellow.  No one spoke.

            How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of the one who announces peace.  How beautiful.

            The moon shone down that evening on an old woman with a limp and a little boy holding onto her coat.  They walked through the grove of trees and paused to touch each one.

            And the word became flesh, and lived among us.

            Full of grace and truth.

            How beautiful are the feet of the One who came among us, announcing peace, bringing peace.

            How beautiful are the feet of the One who set us free to love one another.

           

            Merry Christmas.

            AMEN

           

           

Advent 4: Invitation to Trust

*(I am indebted to Barbara Lundblad at Working Preacher for her thoughts regarding Isaiah 7:10-16 this week)

A long time ago and in a place far away from here, a prophet came to a king and said, “Trust me.”   

            The King’s name was Ahaz – and the prophet’s name was Isaiah.  And when Isaiah said, “Trust me,” he really meant “Trust God.” 

            Now you might wonder why the prophet came to the king with such a message. 

            Isaiah knew that King Ahaz was worried and frightened.  He knew that there were two other kings that were plotting against him – the king of Israel (the northern kingdom) and the king of Aram. 

            They wanted to overthrow Ahaz and set up another king in his place, for their own political purposes.  

            Ahaz was worried, and the prophet came to him said to him, “Trust me.”

             That’s what it means when Isaiah says, “Go ahead – ask for a sign.  You can ask for anything!  The sky’s the limit!  Just ask!”

             It’s an invitation.  But Ahaz won’t do it. 

            He won’t ask for a sign, and he makes a big show of saying, “I won’t put God to the test.”  Sounds pious right? 

            We are not supposed to test God, right?  But really, Ahaz is not pious.  The truth is, he has his own ideas about how he’s going to deal with Israel and Aram, and he doesn’t want God to get in the middle of it.   “Ask God for a sign,” Isaiah says. 

            As deep as sheol or a high as heaven.  The sky’s the limit!  And Ahaz refuses.

            Perhaps it seems like an odd story for the Sunday two days before Christmas Eve. 

            Two days until Christmas Eve and if you are like me, you are starting to get worried that you won’t get everything done before Christmas, or you are starting to anticipate with joy the return of family members from places far away, or you are thinking about the people who – for whatever reason – will not be with you this Christmas.

             Two days before Christmas eve, and for some of us, it really is Christmas already, because in this day and age when families live in many different places, some are sitting down to a family Christmas dinner already this weekend.

            But according to the church year, it is still advent, we are still waiting, and still preparing, still getting ready.

            And advent – well, advent is about many things.  Advent is about hope – about waiting for what only God can do in our lives.

             And Advent is about preparing – not just our homes but our hearts –  And advent is about repentance – about turning around and going in another direction. 

            Advent is about many things, but the more I think about it, the more I believe that advent is about God, saying to us, “Trust me.” 

            Trust me with your future. 

            Trust me with your present. 

            As Isaiah came to King Ahaz and said “trust me”, so during advent we are invited to trust the one who is coming to us, the one who will come to us, soon, the one who will be born among us and laid in a manger, because there is no room for him in the inn.

            Of course – this is not the reason that we read this passage from Isaiah on the 4^th Sunday of Advent. 

            No – really we read this passage because of that sentence “ the young woman will conceive and bear a son, and she will name him “Immanuel.”

            And most of you will hear the word “Emmanuel” and you will immediately know that it means “God is with us.”  

            And when the early Christians heard this verse from Isaiah, they couldn’t help but think of Mary, and her son, Jesus.  

            “Emmanuel” was the sign given to Ahaz – the one he didn’t want – and “Emmanuel was the sign given to Joseph, and Emmanuel is the sign given to us, today.  “God is with us.”  Emmanuel Emerges

            “Trust me,” God says.  Ask me for a sign, and I will give it to you.  And when we say,

            “No, God, that’s all right.  I think I can get this all worked out without your help,”  God says,  

            “You know what?  I will give you a sign anyway.  And the sign will be a child.”

            And what kind of a sign is that?

            Well, for starters, we can say it is A good sign…..A child is a good sign, in many ways. 

            To the couple who are longing for a child, to a church wondering if they have a future, to a world looking for signs of life…. A child is a Good Sign. 

            I remember reading something a long time ago – that the era that my mother grew up in – the children that were born during the depression – is the smallest generation. 

            There were a few years  during the depression when there were just not that many children being born. 

            And the baby boomers – the generation born right after World War II ended – the boom was in part because of the spirit of optimism.  The sign of the child. 

            It is a good sign, a sign of hope.  A young woman has a baby and names him “Immanuel”.  God is with us. 

            Because that’s how she feels.  Something good is emerging in the world.

             But Immanuel is not just a good sign. 

            It’s also a vulnerable sign.  It is not a sign that tells you (if you are Ahaz) that God is going to send his armies and annihilate your enemies. 

            It’s not a sign that tells us that God is out to give us everything we want.  It is a sign that tells us that God is at work for good in the world,  but perhaps not in the ways we are expecting.  ‘God is with us.’ 

            A woman whose father served in the German army in World War II – has this memory – that the buckles of the German army had these three words printed on them,  “God with us.”   

            So we can lift those words out of the context and try to use them for our own purposes.  But the words are meant to be held together with the sign,  the sign of the child. 

“Trust me,”  God invites us. 

            Instead of trusting your own might, your own power, your own cleverness, trust me.   That’s the invitation to us, two days before Christmas eve.

            Two nights ago, my husband and I again went to a local performance called “All is Calm:  The Christmas truce of 1914.” 

            Hearing the music and listening to the readings from letters and poetry the soldiers wrote, I was struck again by how unusual it was, how unprecedented this action was

            Not just a small cease-fire, but really a temporary truce.

And it didn’t come from above, but from the soldier in the trenches.

It came from the soldiers in the trenches, who longed for peace, and trusted – somehow – that “God with us”  “Emmanuel”  meant was not a sign on a belt buckle of a conquering army --- but Emmanuel was a sign of peace for them – and for their enemies.

So They took a risk.

 I remember one voice during the performance, soldiers who were told by their sergeant to stop fraternizing with the enemy, to get back in their trenches. 

            “Shut up, sergeant,” the soldiers said back, suddenly unafraid.  “It’s Christmas!”  “God with us.”   

            “Trust me.”  That was the message to King Ahaz. 

That was the message to Joseph as well. 

The angel came to him in a dream and said, “Don’t be afraid.  Take Mary as your wife.   This child – this child will be called ‘God is with us.’” 

            This child will change the world – and your life – but not in the ways you were expecting

            Not through conquering armies – but through conquering hearts.

So Joseph trusted the angel.

And Emmanuel was born into the world.

 

            “Trust me.”  That’s the message for us as well, these two days before Christmas eve. 

            It is the message for us as individuals, and the message for our faith community. 

            Trust that God is working in your life, through your lives, that the baby born in a manger, is born into the ragged and messy parts of your lives, that God is with us – not in conquering armies and great successes, but in every changed heart, in every welcome guest, in every stranger, in every child who is fed, every prisoner visited. 

            God is with us – at Christmas, not in the ways we expect, or even in the ways we want, but in the ways we need –

Making us new

 making us instruments of his love.

            Trust him.

            AMEN