2024-12-03
Brooke Strong
Sermon Text...
Pastor Vicki McGaw
December 1, 2024
Two weeks ago, people from around the state gathered at Templed Hills to say goodbye to the beloved Heartland Conference camp before it is sold. Many friends of mine posted emotional nostalgic pictures and reflections as they visited. Some of you may have been there. I was not. While I have some fond memories of confirmation retreats at the camp, my recollections are centered on the kids with whom I gathered, not on the place because I really don’t like camp with its bugs and animals and grungy showers and things. And my disdain has a long history.
It began when I was a 12-year-old girl and my mother sent my sisters and me to Girl Scout camp for two weeks. To say I was unhappy would be an incredible understatement as I was reminded when, while cleaning out the attic this fall, I uncovered letters I had sent to my mom while I was there. With the angst that only a pre-teen girl can summon, I begged my mother to come and get me. I implored her to tell me what I had done for her to send me away to such a place. I missed home and my mom SO much that I cried myself to sleep many nights. I survived my severe case of homesickness, but I have NEVER liked camp since!
I’m guessing many of us enter this Advent a little bit homesick as we carry the memories and truths of this season close to our hearts. In this time of transition, many are longing for the way things have always been and are fearful that the changes that will inevitably come will not be welcome ones.
In our world today with wars and the threats of wars in many places, with prices burdensome for many, and with the political tensions in our country taking their toll, we enter this season acutely aware of the “already but not yet” tension of our faith. As we prepare for the coming of the Christ child, for Emmanuel to be with us, we also acknowledge that God’s promised day is not fully realized. We are homesick, longing for God to come near and make a home on earth in the person of Jesus.
And yet, as we enter this season of expectation, awaiting a cure for our homesickness, we are met with this lectionary gospel reading, and all I can think is . . . seriously?? I had to deal with preaching an apocalyptic text two weeks ago! I’m guessing many of you heard this reading and immediately thought: why is this woman talking about doom and gloom apocalypse again? Where are the twinkly stars, the babe in swaddling clothes, the wonder and joy?
I understand, and I promise we will get there, but interestingly the lectionary starts us here. And please understand that these scripture passages aren’t my choice! Many mainline churches, including this one, use the Revised Common Lectionary to focus preaching each week. The lectionary offers a three-year cycles of bible passages that ensure congregants hear the full message of the bible during that span of time. I had a mentor who always said, “Preach the lectionary; it keeps you honest.” In other words, it ensures that pastors don’t just pick the things they want to share but enables God’ message to shine through as the text is pre-determined.
So again I say, seriously! We’re beginning Advent with apocalypse? But yes, the lectionary starts in the place where theologian Diana Butler Bass says Advent slaps us with the uncertainty and violence of human history. In prophetic language that sounds frighteningly contemporary, Jesus describes a world that sounds way too familiar to us: a place of roaring seas and distress among nations. Of people fainting in fear and of the powers of heaven shaken. God describes a world reeling in pain. This can be hard to hear when the media bombards us with messages of holiday shopping and Jingle Bells and Christmas tree lights, when we haven’t even emptied the refrigerator of Thanksgiving leftovers!
And yet . . . I have to admit that I kind of love that we begin the new liturgical year and the season of Advent in this time when the days are growing shorter and darkness pervades our world. And I actually resonate with this text that rejects the shallow sentimentality and false cheer that the culture feeds us at this time of year. I appreciate that it paints images of the world as it actually is: gorgeous and compelling, but also fragile and falling apart.
And of course, Jesus doesn’t offer us this dismal picture and then leave us there feeling helpless. Instead, he directs us to be on guard, to be alert, and to stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is drawing near. These are not exactly words we seek as inscriptions on our Christmas cards, but they are essential and life-giving just the same. They direct us not to turn away and hide, but instead to embrace the reality of the world around us. They acknowledge that when we embrace suffering, we are most open to the nearness of God.
We enter the Advent season year after year with busy schedules and unending to-do lists. Even in the church, we fill our calendar with special programs like Advent by Candlelight, shopping for the giving tree, Christmas caroling and pageant rehearsals. And then we pile on our personal preparations: decorating the tree, baking cookies, writing Christmas cards and buying and wrapping presents. And of course, all of this comes on top of our already busy daily lives.
We may find ourselves living in the tension between the excitement of the season and the all-too-present realities of the divisions, violence and demands of our world. We may be grieving the empty places at our holiday tables. We find ourselves overwhelmed by the cacophony of messages about how we should feel and what we should be doing. It is in this maelstrom of our hectic, over-scheduled lives that Jesus comes along telling us to be alert, to keep watch . . . and it feels a bit like he is just piling on!
But could it be that Jesus is simply trying to get our attention so that we can lift our heads above the chaos and recall that God is always with us, even in – especially in – the times when life seems at its most precarious. Is it possible that during this season of waiting and expectation, we become so consumed by the symbols – the candles, the shepherds, the angels and the star – that we forget about the very thing on which we wait: the birth of Jesus. He urges us to be on guard and to stay alert so that we don’t miss the signs of his movement all around us.
This is a message that resounds in these times: that God is here, has always been here, and always will be. It is a message that the powers that appear in control are not ones controlling us. And it reminds us that our witness to God’s activity in world matters: we are called to seek the lost and to liberate the oppressed. Such testimony is hard; it cost Jesus his life! Because when we challenge powers that be by proposing to live in ways that point to God’s true presence, those in power will strike back, seeking to silence our prophetic message.
Friends, my presence here this morning is proof that I survived summer camp. At the end of the two weeks, there was my mom, arms outstretched, ready to give me the biggest hug before taking me home. It took me many years to admit this, but she didn’t send me away to punish me, but to give me a sense of independence. I was so busy being homesick that long ago summer that I missed out on the fun of building a campfire, learning to canoe and sleeping under stars.
In the same way, Jesus comes along to warn us not to be so homesick for God that we fail to notice all the ways that the Divine is present all around us.
In this Advent season, even if the world doesn’t seem quite right, even if things are falling apart around us, even when the message is hard to hear, let’s not get so caught up in the work of preparation that we forget what we are readying for. Stand up! Lift our heads, be alert so that we don’t miss the signs of Jesus’ movement all around us. Because God might just show up when and where we least expect — whether in the roaring of oceans, the shaking of heavens, or the quiet blossoming of trees.
Friends, even though it is hard to hear, this is the message of Advent. As homesick as we are for life of comfort and fellow-ship as we await day when God is revealed in birth of Jesus, we know that the world will never be same because Jesus’ birth will reveal a new world order. Those who have had power and privilege will face an alternative view of authority that turns the world upside down. The weak will be empowered, the voiceless will be heard. The world is about to change, and that can be scary for those who like things as they are.
Even as we sing, Come, O Long Expected Jesus, even as the world may quake with fear, we cling to knowledge that God is here in midst of the chaos. These are words hope for homesick world. And so, at the start of this holy season, we approach each experience, each moment, each encounter looking for evidence of Christ’s presence. After all, he is already among us; the Kindom of God is near . . . and if we are tuned out, we may just miss it. So in these busy and sacred days, let us be alert and ready for where God might just show up. Thanks be to God. Amen.