Musings of One in the Wilderness

December 8^th, 2013   “Musings of One in the Wilderness”   Rev. Heather Jepsen

Matthew 3:1-12 with Isaiah 11:1-10

          For some reason, I am feeling the tension between the consumerist Christmas and the call of Advent particularly strongly this year.  Perhaps it was the accepted move of Black Friday onto Thanksgiving Thursday, and suddenly what once was a quiet time at home with family, has become an opportunity to push someone out of the way as we reach for a flat screen TV.  Or perhaps it was because Thanksgiving was so late this year; as if we turned around and suddenly we were already behind on all the shopping, wrapping, decorating, and baking involved in Christmas preparations.  Or perhaps it is simply that I am getting older, and losing touch with that holiday madness that seems to consume us as children.  Whatever the reason; today I am feeling like I am occupying two opposite worlds at the same time.

          On the one hand, I have one foot firmly planted in the land of traditional American Christmas.  I have to tell you, I love Christmas.  Christmas is my favorite time of the year.  I can’t wait to bust out the Christmas CDs and get out the decorations.  Heck, we put up our outside lights on a really warm weekend in early November.  And all the inside decorations promptly came out the day after Thanksgiving. 

          I love all the preparations for the holiday.  I love shopping.  I feel blessed to have the financial resources to shop for family and friends.  I love buying toys for my kids.  Wrapping presents while the music from the Nutcracker plays in the background is one of my favorite things to do. 

          I also love all the extra time in the kitchen.  Cooking is fun for me and this is a great time of year.  With all the special things I make only at Christmas, from crab puff snacks to special Christmas Day egg casserole this is a great time.  This year in particular I am busy planning extra cookies and things so I can send a care package to my own parents in time for the holidays.  Mom is not well enough for baking this year and I would hate for Dad to miss out on all the holiday treats.

          A lot of clergy parents my age have asked me about Santa, do we celebrate him in my house, and I say of course.  We didn’t start going to church until I was in high school so Santa was a very big deal to me growing up.  That was the only story we told this time of year and the magic of Christmas was very real in my house.  In fact in 8^th grade I sent a letter to Santa telling him how much I believed in him.  Imagine my surprise as that year the 8^th graders at my school were writing Santa reply letters in English class, and my letter showed up there.  Awkward!  In continuation of my own family tradition, I hold the Santa Christmas story alongside the story we celebrate here in church.

          Of course the story we tell here in church during this time of year is a deeper, more profound, more real story than any tale of Santa or the spirit of giving at Christmas.  I have one foot firmly planted in the outside world, and one foot planted here, in the story of the church.  And this year it is a story I am longing to tell.  And a story I am longing to hear.

          More than ever, I am craving a safe space to come and celebrate my faith.  I am craving quiet time, I am craving rest, I am craving reflection, and I am craving meaning.  This Christmas, I want something more.  John the Baptist wants that too.  The voice of one crying in the wilderness, calling people to prepare the way of the Lord,

          John the Baptist has always been a bit of an outsider this time of year.  While the story of Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus seems to make its way into the secular celebrations, John the Baptist is always left on the pages of the Bible.  You won’t find any inflatable John the Baptist yard art with glowing camel’s hair robe and jumping animatronic locusts.  And you won’t find any Christmas cards bearing his tidings of “Tis the Season to Repent”.  John the Baptist is as unwelcome in our time as he was in his own.

         And yet, people were drawn to his message.  People streamed out of the cities, people traveled in from the countryside; Matthew tells us that from the whole surrounding area people gathered to hear the alternative message that John was preaching.  People were longing for something more.  They were longing to hear that the world was not OK, and that they themselves were not OK.  People were longing to confess their sins, to be baptized, to start anew, and to prepare their hearts for the one coming in fire.

          Are we so different?  I don’t think so.  In our modern churches today we shy away from language of sin and repentance.  Those terms so often used as a club to beat down those among us who were different, have now become completely rejected.  That’s too bad.  While guilt and shame have no place in the church, language of repentance and change should.  We all know sin, and we all see it in our own lives.  We need to acknowledge and admit our own brokenness, if we are to receive the gift of love that Christ offers.

          This time of year, when things are all happy clappy, holly jolly, merry Christmas, and ho ho ho; I am longing for something more.  I am longing for a message with some real meat on its bones.  Sure it’s a great story, the sweet babe in the manger, and Santa and gifts, but is that who we really are?  Is that the only story there is?  Because sometimes when we all smile at each other in the check-out line, I feel like it’s a sham.

          This holiday season I want more.  I want John the Baptist, calling me to repent.  I want him yelling at the religious authorities, calling it all a lie, and pointing out that the emperor has no clothes on.  I want to be baptized by the Holy Spirit and fire.  I want to feel something real.  I want to be changed.  I want the Christ to come with his winnowing fork in his hand, to burn away the chaff of my life and make me right and whole again.  I want Christmas to matter, and not just be about some sickly sweet treacle of a story.  I don’t just want a birth, I want a resurrection.

          The words of the prophet Isaiah are all about resurrection.  A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, a branch shall grow out of his roots.  New life, new growth, hope springing forth like a green tendril from a dead end.  All that was broken and wrong, all that was hardened and burned, all that was put away in sorrow and shame; now redeemed by new life.  A shoot, from a stump.

          I want that story this Christmas.  I want new life and resurrection.  I want God to touch all the burned out dead places of my heart and call them to send forth shoots, call them to reach out in new growth, call them to look to the sun and a new day.  I want more than a flat screen TV, I want the touch of God in my life.

          I don’t think I am the only person here who feels this way, and that’s why we came here today isn’t it.  I mean, there is so much to do to prepare for Christmas, who can afford the time to come to church?  I ask who can afford not to?

          There are a lot of chances this season to come here, to visit this sanctuary, and to seek that other message.  Come on Tuesday nights for Taize, sit in silence with God and others, prepare your heart for the repentance that John the Baptist calls us to.  Come on Sunday, to hear the true message of Christmas from the choir and from our youth.  Let us experience this joy together and hear the story from new voices.  Come on Christmas Eve, to celebrate the birth of the baby in the manger, the shoot from the stump of Jesse, the beginning of new life and the promise of resurrection.

          When we gather in a few short weeks on Christmas Eve, and we sing our favorite songs, and we hear the story again, that is my favorite night of the year.  Visit that moment with me in your mind.  As we light the candles and we pass the flame to each other, as we sing Silent Night, and we look into each other’s smiling faces, I get tears in my eyes.  I cry.  Because it is the most beautiful and the most real thing I know.  As much as I love them, I don’t need Christmas Trees, and presents, and Santa.  No.  I need you, the church, and all the promise and love and joy and resurrection that we believe in and that we are.  That is what this season is about.  Amen.

The Thief in the Night

December 1^st, 2013        “The Thief in the Night”      Rev. Heather Jepsen

Isaiah 2:1-5 and Matthew 24:36-44      

          Today is the first Sunday of Advent.  The Advent season is all about waiting.  It is a season of anticipation, a season of preparation, and a season of hope.  So, what are we waiting for exactly?  I know you feel like Advent is about waiting and preparing for Christmas, but technically it’s not.  And perhaps you feel like Advent is about waiting for the baby Jesus, but technically it’s not that either.  In fact, what Advent is really about is waiting for the second coming of Christ. 

          You were probably wondering why I wasn’t preaching on John the Baptist and the Baby Jesus but instead was reading about the unexpected coming of the Son of Man.  There are four Sundays in Advent, and the first one always has a scary apocalyptic reading like this.  Next week we’ll do John the Baptist and after that it’s fun all the way, but today is the hard stuff.  Today is that ever confusing, ever frightening, and yet ever hopeful second coming.

          You see, we technically can’t be preparing for the baby in a manger; that already happened.  Instead, we are preparing for the return of Christ.  So, when’s it going to be, you wonder.  Well, I wish I had an answer for you, or a place to tell you to look for answers, but unfortunately I’ve got nothing.  While there may be no shortage of people in the world that will tell you that they know when the end is coming; unfortunately all of these people, down to the very last one of them, are wrong.  We can’t read the signs of the end times anymore than we can truly understand our own beginnings.  No one knows when the end is coming.  Jesus himself says that neither the angels in heaven, or even he himself knows.  So that’s that.

          What Jesus does tell us, is that whenever it comes; this day will take us by surprise.  We will be busy going about our daily tasks, and suddenly it will happen.  And so, we are told to keep awake, to keep watch; for we cannot know the day or hour when the Son of Man will return.

          So Advent is a time for us to wake up.  It is the season of the church year when we pinch ourselves.  With our daily routines, in the church and in our lives we get lulled into sleep.  Every day we get up, go to work, come home, go to bed, much the same.  And every Sunday we come to church, sing a song, confess our sins, read the scripture, hear a sermon, sing another song, put money in a plate, eat lunch with friends and go home.  It’s the same every time.  And before long we start to fall asleep.  Whether we literally fall asleep during the sermon, or simply mentally fall asleep, at some point in the year we stop listening.  We stop hearing the gospel.  We stop being surprised and challenged by God’s message, because we have heard it all before. 

          So, this morning, Jesus is shouting in our ear to Wake Up!  He is coming like a thief in the night, and we better be ready to greet him.  How strange is it, that Jesus compares himself with a thief?  One who would sneak into our homes while we are asleep and take things from us.  What would it mean to be awake, to greet such a thief?  What sort of things will Jesus come to steal from us? 

          This is what I was wondering on this week, as I am often wondering on something from the Bible.  And at first, I thought Jesus might literally come like a thief and take our material things.  If it is the second coming, I’m probably not going to be able to keep my hands on my things.  Jesus will come like a thief and I will lose my flat screen TV, I will lose my harp, and I will lose my shelves and shelves of books.  Jesus will come like a thief, bearing the end of all things, and my small bank account will be gone.  Like the farmer who builds bigger barns and dies the next day, I can’t take these things with me.  Like a thief in the night, the return of Christ, will mean an end to my material possessions.

          That is probably accurate, but then I got to thinking about the whole world.  Maybe Jesus is coming like a thief who will take away the whole power system of our world.  Like we spoke about last Sunday; Jesus is a ruler, a king, who brings about a new form of leadership and power.  Jesus is a non-King who is flattening out our power structures.  Like a thief he will sneak in and turn our whole world system, from economics, to government, to social organization onto its head. 

          This is the picture of the future that Isaiah gives us.  In those days, all the nations shall turn from whatever has been distracting them, and stream to the mount of the Lord.  The word of the Lord, and not of the governments of man, will be shouted out in Zion and Jerusalem.  The ways of power and violence will end, as people beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.  No more war, only the ways of the Prince of Peace, as nation shall no longer lift up sword, or missile, or atomic bomb against each other.  This is the vision of Isaiah.  The thief in the night will steal away all the unholy ways of the world and to that vision, I say, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

          This vision of the future is one of hope, and not fear.  But I have to tell you, that when I think of meeting Christ, there is a part of me that is always afraid.  I can think of one more thing that the thief in the night might take from me, and it’s the scariest of all, and what I hold onto the tightest, and that is my personal understanding of the faith.  As your leader, it’s my job to have the answers.  Not all the answers, but at least some of the answers about our faith.  It is my job to study about our faith, to think about our faith, to come to conclusions about our faith, and to teach you about our faith.  And while I am confident in the things I say, I am always aware that I could be wrong.

          Let me explain.  When I read the gospels, I keep my eye on the disciples.  Those guys were standing right next to Jesus a lot of the time.  And those guys were able to hear the things he said first hand.  And those guys were right there to see the look on his face when he was talking, and read his body language which is 90% of our communication.  So, if anybody understood Jesus’ message, it should have been those guys.  And yet, those guys got it wrong, a lot.  The gospels are full of stories of the disciples being confused or misunderstanding or simply getting it wrong.  So logically, if those guys were right there, and they got it wrong.  How can I, 2,000 years later, expect to get it right?  I can’t.

          So, when I think of the second coming, of the thief in the night, I imagine that Jesus will steal from me all of my misunderstanding.  I expect to be corrected, I expect to be humbled, and I expect to be wrong about some things if not everything, simply because I am human.  And, so to me, this is scary.  I know that whether I see the second coming, or whether I simply die, this day is in my future; the day of reckoning and humbling.  Where I admit that I have been wrong, and worse that I have accidentally taught others something that was wrong.  This thief in the night comes to steal the easy answers of my faith, and of that I am afraid.

          And so this Advent, we prepare not for Christmas, not for a baby, but for the thief.  While we are busy with our material world, we are called to keep awake and remember that none of these things last forever.  And while we are caught up in the politics and economics of man, we are called to wake up and remember that the thief promises to bring a new world order.  And finally, while we rest in our knowledge of our faith, we are called to keep awake and keep in mind that the thief may yet take even that from us, and correct where we have been wrong.

          During this season where we are tempted to be lulled to sleep, I encourage you to pinch yourself and wake up.  We aren’t waiting for Christmas; we are waiting for Christ, and all the change that comes with him.  And so we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.”  Amen.