Christ Still Comes

Christ still comes – ready or not.

Grace to you and peace on this Christmas morning.  Advent has come and gone;  the candlelight of Christmas Eve is over – and here we are in the broad daylight of Christmas day. 

To tell you the truth it all snuck up on me.  We just moved into a different house and even though it was several weeks ago we still haven’t uncovered the Christmas ornaments or lights.  You wouldn’t know it is Christmas if you came to our house unless you saw the spectacular lights on our next-door neighbor’s house.  It is surprising to me that even though we’ve had our advent journey and lit the candles on the advent wreath one by one, I wasn’t quite ready for Christmas Eve to arrive yesterday.   Frankly, even now I’m not all that filled with what anyone would recognize as stereotypical Christmas spirit.  I’ve had a cold all week, I’m sure I’ve gained at least three or four pounds since Thanksgiving, and for the 34th year straight I haven’t sent out any Christmas cards.  Yesterday as I scuffled my way from the parking lot into the church I was in a sour mood.  I couldn’t find the right outfit to wear, my hair had turned out wrong, the cat had thrown up on the kitchen floor, and my head was full of congestion.  And worse than that, I felt guilty that I was in such a bad mood on the morning of Christmas Eve.  No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shift my gaze from myself to that manger.  No matter how much I wanted to be full of Christmas cheer, my demeanor better suited Good Friday.

I wonder if you have ever felt that way during the Christmas season? Have you ever felt like if you could just pause for a moment and catch your breath you might be able to enjoy this time of year a little more –but there is too much to do:  too many people to see, gatherings to attend, gifts to buy and cookies to bake?  Have you ever felt like it’s too hard to dig through the wrapping paper and tinsel and colored lights to even begin to find the real meaning of this holiday?  Wouldn’t it be kind of nice if we could put off Christmas until we were really ready for it?  Until a time when everything was in place and we all felt like celebrating?

Well, that is how I felt.  But Christmas came anyway.  It came in spite of me.

A friend of mine in Minneapolis told me a story about her young daughter who is fascinated with the little green plastic army figures that belong to her brother.  Her daughter picks up these army figures and moves them around the house and so my friend said she wasn’t surprised when one day a few weeks ago she noticed in her family nativity scene, there wasn’t just Mary and Joseph, but six little green army men pointing guns in all directions.  She said that she immediately took out the little green figures, but then she realized that maybe it was more symbolic of the true story of Jesus’ coming than she had initially thought.  Jesus was not born into a world free of violence or hate.  He was not born into a perfect world – but rather he was born into our world, right how it was, and he still comes into our lives, right now, just how we are.

It’s interesting, isn’t it?  We dress up our houses and dress up ourselves and pour all sorts of time and effort into creating just the right holiday and to exude some sort of Christmas spirit to those around us – but the truth is that Jesus came for Scrooge just as much as Tiny Tim.  He came just as much for the antagonist as the protagonist, as much for the villain as the hero, as much for the person you like the least, as for the person you love the most.   We gather to celebrate Christmas and the good news of Jesus’ birth – but the best news is that he came even for those who cannot or maybe even will not celebrate his birth.  That is amazing love.  A love that though we may search for it, actually finds us all along.

One December when I was around 20 years old.  I was full of righteous indignation at the commercial excess of the holidays and convinced that no one understood the depths of my feelings about this – including my family –  and so on my Christmas break from college instead of going home or going to a friend’s house or staying at school and working, I went out to stay at my old Bible camp by myself. 

I had high hopes for spiritual enlightenment as I went to live in the wilds of northern Minnesota for those weeks.  I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.  It was my secret pilgrimage.  I sat and wrote in my journal by firelight and thought deep thoughts about the true meaning of Christmas far away from any of the commercial trappings, far away from my family’s traditions. 

On Christmas day in the midst of the silence, the phone rang – it was my mom.  To this day I don’t know how she tracked me down – but she called just to say “merry Christmas” and “I love you.”  Although I was annoyed that my pilgrimage was not so secret after all, it provided me with the greatest revelation I had that week.  There was nothing I was going to find by putting myself apart from everyone for that week.  No great words of wisdom were written down in that journal.  Although I had listened for God in the sound of the trees and the quiet of the snow dancing across the ice-covered lake, it wasn’t my searching that brought me closer to any great understanding.  Rather, the things I needed to find were looking for me all along.  The things I needed to find had been knit into my life from the very start.  The things I needed to find were things I just had to learn to recognize rather than hunt down and conquer. 

What does all this mean?  It means that especially today, don’t worry so much about the searching – you have already been found.  It means Christ comes to us again and again.  Emmanuel – God with us – God with us in so many ways!  Christ comes to us in parents, in each other, in strangers, in words that startle and amaze us, in the sacraments we share, and in a manger.   Christ comes to us though we may not feel ready or happy or sane.  Comes to us just as we are.  When all is said and done, Christmas Spirit is something we are given, not something we create.  And for that I am grateful.  Merry Christmas. 

(December 2004)

A Christmas Day homily

One of my best friends and his wife are expecting a new baby any day now.  So I’ve been having fun doing a little baby-clothes shopping.  Holding the soft sleepers and tiny blankets brings back memories of days that weren’t that long ago when my own boys were that small. 

Most of the lessons of parenthood are things they truly have to learn on the job.  No matter how much reading or preparing the nursery or talking to other parents one does to try to get ready for a baby, one is never really ready.  A parent can only gain the wisdom they need by experiencing parenthood – being in the trenches, experiencing the sleep-deprivation, the complete disorder of once orderly lives, the complete surrender of schedules and priorities and resources to their teeny-tiny, demanding, unreasonable, yet entirely beloved baby.

Elizabeth Stone said, “Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”

Charles Osgood states, “Babies are always more trouble than you thought — and more wonderful.”

Leo Burke writes, “People who say they sleep like a baby usually don’t have one.”

And Theresa Bloomingdale once said, “If your baby is “beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time,” you’re the grandparent.”

Whoever would have thought something as small as a baby could change everything.  Yet it has always been this way.

In fact, that is a good way to think about today – because of course it is one baby’s birth in particular that we gather to celebrate this morning. 

One of the stories about Jesus’ birth that I’ve thought a lot about in recent years is the story of the three wise men placing gifts before the baby Jesus and throwing their own little royal baby shower. Yet if you stop to think about it, the gifts are  strange to bring for a newborn baby.  There’s no soft blue blankets no baby toys, no diaper genie or onesies or an ancient version of any of these things. 

Remember the gifts they brought? They placed at His feet gold, frankincense and myrrh. The Bible doesn’t tell us what Mary and Joseph did with Jesus’ gifts, but since having babies of my own every time I hear the story, I personally have to wonder what Mary really thought of those presents.  Perhaps she understood their symbolic meaning – but I have a feeling that it could just as easily be that in her mind she is thinking, “Come on!  Couldn’t these guys have consulted with their wives or even a sister and maybe come up with something a little more useful?”

However, the story seems to assume that the reader won’t think these gifts are strange at all – and when one pauses to look at what each gift represents, it makes all the difference in this story.  I was recently reminded of what their meanings were – and I thought I’d share a little bit about these meanings with you this morning.

 Gold – it is perhaps easy to guess why this was one of the gifts – because gold has always been a symbol of royalty. This gift signaled the wise men’s understanding of who this child was, and how we should receive Him. Because of this child, we are transformed from lowly paupers to royalty seated with Christ. He had to leave the perfection and grandeur of heaven in order to walk among us, trading His royalty for a time, but never losing His deity.

Frankincense.  Incense was a symbol of His purity. Because He was born sinless and lived a perfect life, Jesus was that perfect lamb, without blemish, offered up for our sins. Incense was used as a fragrant offering to God. But the beauty of the scent couldn’t be released without being touched by fire. Jesus’ life became a fragrant offering through the flames of affliction. And in His death, we receive His purity.

Myrrh is the third gift – and this is the gift that no parent would ever want to receive – because it symbolized death.  Myrrh was used for embalming in those times. As these men laid this odd collection of gifts at the feet of this child, a little shiver had to have run down His mother’s spine when that last one was placed before Him. Of course she had known that Jesus was no normal baby.  The angel Gabriel had told her that Jesus would be great, and he would be called the “Son of the Most High, and the Lord God would give him the throne of his ancestor David and he would reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there would be no end.” 

But when she said “Here I am, Lord, let it be with me according to your word” – could she ever have understood the kind of sacrifice this child would make?   This gift of myrrh may have been her first clue about the inestimable amount of ways this baby was not only going to change her life, but change the world – through his life and ultimately through his death.

They were three gifts that together foretold the story of this new, sacred life.

They were three gifts that together foretold his royalty, his priesthood, his death.

They were three gifts that together foretold how every life from then on would be different.  Every life.

 Let us pray:

Living God, how do we sum up in a few words all that this day means to us?  All we can do is gather together here in this quiet place and give you thanks for all that you are to us, all you have done for us, and all you are encouraging us yet to be.  As we think about the wise men who brought their prophetic gifts to set before you, we humbly bring our gifts to you as well.  Help us to use everything we have and everything we are to serve you. 

And so we have spoken and sung of how we warmly welcome your birth.  Now, we invite you to come home to live with us.  Not just today, but every day.  Not just this Christmas season, but every season.  Make us different than we have been.  In Jesus name we pray.  Amen

Christmas Light

Christmas is a lot more cheerful for me these days than it used to be.  In addition to the joy that sharing Christmas with our children brings, I really am happy to be at a church that has one Christmas Eve service instead of five.  I feel like I really get to worship on Christmas again instead of participating in what felt mostly like a frantic Christmas assembly line.  Back in those days, by this time I would be pretty Christmas-ed out.  It would be fantasizing about throwing snowballs at the cheery giant Santa at my neighbor’s house that plays tinny Christmas carols all night.  I used to say my tolerance for all the usual trappings of Christmas has about the shelf life of a dairy product.  It’s pretty curdled by the end of advent.  I’d be longing for the peanut brittle, holiday movies and Christmas music to go away because I was done.

 I’m thankful that I’ve found my Christmas Spirit again – because as you know – the thing is that we’re not done!  We’re SO not done – especially in the church.  In fact, we’re just at the beginning of the Christmas season now.  Advent has ended and Christmas is here – but oftentimes these days of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day come to feel like a culmination of sorts.  A time to arrive at and then collapse.  Now do we just rest a few days and get ready for New Year’s Eve?  Isn’t there more to Christmas than this?  Isn’t there anything left to astonish us?  After the carols have been sung, after the traditions have been played out, is it just time to go home and start the cleanup?

 Back in college, my two closest friends were from Montana.  During spring break of our freshman year, one of those friends, Kaia, invited me to go home with her to Billings.  I thought that sounded much more fun than going back to my little hometown for the week, and I had never seen the mountains, so I agreed to go.

 We caught a ride with a senior from our college named Darren.  We chipped in some money for gas and piled into his tiny yellow Toyota pick-up truck for the 12 hour drive from Moorhead to Billings.  I remember his little truck didn’t have a lot of pep and it would slow down to about 40 mph on every hill and he loved John Denver and the Carpenters – so we listened to them the whole way.  Still, whenever I hear “Rocky Mountain High” or “We’ve Only Just Begun” I can only think about that long drive.

 We arrived in Billings on a cloudy evening.  The next day, Kaia’s father had arranged for a little trip for the whole family and me to go up into the mountains for a skiing adventure.  The weather was still cloudy as we drove up into the mountains and it was dark as we pulled into the lodge where we were going to stay for the night.  As we unloaded the car, Kaia’s dad said to me, “Well, Ruth, you are in the mountains now!” – but with the overcast sky and the darkness and the snow, it looked just about the same as anywhere else.

 The next morning when I woke up, however, I could see the sun was shining – and blue sky peeking through the curtains.  Like a little kid I ran to the window to look outside – and there they were – giant peaks erupting from the ground in every direction I could see.  Even though I knew they had been there when I fell asleep, the darkness had kept me from seeing them.  But now, in the light, my surroundings were no longer a mystery.  It’s amazing how the light changes things.

 The gospel of John talks about the Word coming into the world – Jesus.  He was in the beginning with God. In him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  That light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

 What difference does that particular light, that light of Christ, make to us?  I wonder if we might be amazed at all his light could change if it were to truly shine in the dark places in our lives? 

 If we stop to think about it, it spurs a lot of questions:  How might the choices we make be different when we see them in that radiance?  How might our interactions with loved ones, with strangers, look if we gaze at them in Christ’s luminescence?  How does last year look if we reflect on it in that particular light?  How might next year be different if we choose to air out some of those darker corners, allow Christ’s brightness into every area of our lives?

 Isn’t it possible that following that light, like a star, it might guide us, too, to places beyond our dreaming?

 You see, there is something left to astonish us.  Because we not only have a Savior who chose to come to us just as we are:  to the saints and sinners, the crabby and the joyful, the honest and the cheaters, the nice and the cruel;  but already we see that while he came to us just as we are, his presence isn’t going to leave us that way.   We come to see that in fact, he’s more than a light, he is a fire, refining us, perfecting us in fits and starts and in spite of ourselves. 

 This Christmas stuff – it may seem tame and comforting, the same carols, the same nice story about a baby king and a manger year after year – but now, if you are feeling brave, stick around and see the revolution he has come to lead in your life.   

 C.S. Lewis said, “The Christian way is different:  harder, and easier.  Christ says, “Give me your all.  I don’t want so much of your money and so much of your work:  I want you…no half measures are any good.  I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want the whole tree….  I will give  you a new self instead.  I will give you Myself.”

 Maybe we’re ready for the peanut brittle, the reindeer, the twinkling lights, the Christmas tree and the ornaments to be gone.  That’s okay, because those things have their time and place.  They come and go with the season – and they can only take us so far.  But if we have come here this today seeking Christ, then we’ve only just begun.

Blue Christmas (a sermon for the Longest Night)

Luke 2:1-20

2 Now it came to pass in those days, there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment made when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to enroll themselves, everyone to his own city.

4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David;5 to enroll himself with Mary, who was betrothed to him, being great with child.

6 And it came to pass, while they were there, the days were fulfilled that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son; and she wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were shepherds in the same country abiding in the field, and keeping watch by night over their flock. And an angel of the Lord stood by them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people: for there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this is the sign unto you: Ye shall find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, and lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men in whom he is well pleased. And it came to pass, when the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing that is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

16 And they came with haste, and found both Mary and Joseph, and the babe lying in the manger. And when they saw it, they made known concerning the saying which was spoken to them about this child.

18 And all that heard it wondered at the things which were spoken unto them by the shepherds.

19 But Mary treasured all these sayings, pondering them in her heart.

20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, even as it was spoken unto them.

 

 

Shortly after my mom died, some friends bought a nice wooden and iron bench for our yard in memory of her. It sits under the mulberry tree behind our house and I like to go sit out there in the evening sometimes.  It is quiet place and a place I’ve set apart for remembering and for prayer.  Lots of prayer.

I think of this Blue Christmas or Longest Night service in that way.  It is a time and place set apart for prayer and for remembering and for anyone who is having a hard time finding joy during the Christmas season.  This time of year brings many emotions stirring to the surface and the things that set apart this time of year are not only the joyful things but the poignant things…deep memories, hopes, and longings.  Many are the concerns and cares for our present situations and the world in which we live.

So it is good to have this time together and this place to just be.  We sing some songs, we are sung to, we reflect, we pray, and ask for God’s healing balm on the hurting places.  For us.  For all.

Last Sunday we had our Sunday School Christmas pageant at Our Savior’s.  It’s such a truly good time of the year.  There’s nothing quite like hearing that old, old story of our Savior’s birth being told by the youngest voices of the church.

We had our rehearsals and got the costumes ready to go.  The littlest children who had all been sheep and cows and chickens in the play in years past now wanted to have lines – so we had five angels and seven shepherds and a few extra wise men – but that’s okay.  We had a new baby born in our congregation this year so we were excited we even had someone to play the role of the baby Jesus.

It was a perfect evening with lovely weather, the excited children all showed up on time.  As we stood out on the steps before we processed in I thought about how it was one of those moments I wouldn’t forget as I ran my gaze over the children in their costumes laughing and talking in the twilight and then glanced at the parents inside, poised with their cameras, ready to take pictures with their hearts swelling with pride at their little shepherd, their little wise man, their little angel.  The kids did their parts wonderfully, they sang “Away in A Manger” so sweetly, the play went smoothly.  We really couldn’t have asked for a better evening.

But that evening at the very same time our church was full of all that sweetness and goodness, if you had looked over near the altar, burning silently the whole time was a long line of candles lighted since earlier that morning in memory of other beautiful children, twenty of them, and their teachers who died last week in violence.

Such horrible things, such blessed things, the sum of our days are knit together with both.

Every week at the end of the children’s sermon I say a prayer for the children – that God would guide them and guard them and this last Sunday as I said those same words I always say, the words felt so heavy and strange.  I’m certain Pastors and parents had prayed for those dear children in Connecticut, too, and yet they spend this Christmas grieving unspeakable loss, not getting to watch their child act in the pageant or sing “Away in a Manger.”

It’s times like this when we are forced to remember, in case we ever forgot, that faith in God is not a magic charm that keeps away bad things.  Trust and belief in Christ is not some sort of guarantee that harm will not come.

The steering wheel can still slip, the playground equipment can yet malfunction, the storm clouds could gather, the medicine can stop keeping the illness at bay at any time.  We cannot manage the future or predict what will meet us as we step into each minute.

So what do we do?

We cherish the now.  We do not know what will come, but we give thanks for the blessings there are.  I take a note from Mary, the mother of Jesus here.  One of my favorite verses from the Christmas story I just read is where all these things were happening the night that Jesus was born and Mary was taking it all in.  It reads, “But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart.”  The wisest and happiest people are the ones who notice their blessings, take time to treasure the moments while they are happening.

Pause over your coffee, go sit on the step when the breeze is just so, take the long way home, listen to your child’s breath – in and out, in and out – and whisper thanks to God.  These are the holiest moments there are, and when we really notice the loveliness of this world, that is greatest Hallelujah.

What else can we do?

We can trust that God is strong enough to hold the things we place in God’s hands.  It’s something my hometown pastor wrote to me when my mom was very sick and dying that brought me such comfort then and I know it will in my ministry and life for the rest of my days.  He wrote simply, “no matter what happens, Ruth, your mom is held in God’s hands.  And God’s hands are strong.”

Those simple words meant so much to me.  In her last months and days there was nothing we could control – it felt like everything – her life, our time together, our hopes for healing – all of it was just slipping right out of our grasp.  I knew I was losing her.  I knew the sadness of it all was going to be too much for me, I would disappear.  I always used to say that nothing was real until I told Mom about it – so then after she died, obviously, nothing would be real anymore.  The grief was crushing.  It filled me and then emptied me entirely.

But those few words her pastor wrote to me provided the one image of comfort during that time.  In life and in death, she was held safe in God’s hands forever.  She would never slip from his strong embrace.

And the old hymns ran through my brain all the time, their words of comfort and peace and assurance falling fresh on my ears as though I was really hearing them for the first time.        And while I knew that there was nothing I could do to get through that dark time and I knew that the sadness was going to be too much for me, I had a suspicion and a promise that it was not going to be too much for God.  God’s strong hands could hold me as well.

This is the message of hope that can carry us through this longest night and give us strength for seasons to come.  If it seems the illness has lasted too long and the healing will never come, remember you are held in God’s hands and God’s hands are strong.  When the worst thing has happened and so much is broken you are certain you will never be whole again, remember you are held in God’s hands, and God’s hands are strong.  When the diagnosis is grim, when the way is scary, when the promises have not been kept, when it seem darkness is all that will ever be – remember you are held in God’s hands, and God’s hands are strong.

(December 2012)

A Happy New Year (sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas)

When my youngest son, Jesse, was a baby – only about three months old, my mom got very sick and was sent to the hospital in Saint Cloud. My dad’s health was so poor he couldn’t be there with her and with St. Cloud being a couple hours from our hometown she didn’t have any friends or her pastor nearby – and I couldn’t stand the thought of her being in the hospital with no one around her, so I took some vacation time to come up to Minnesota to be with her. I brought Jesse with me and Owen stayed back with my Chad in Colorado and each day Jesse and I would spend as much time with mom in the hospital as we could.

As I would sit by mom’s bedside holding Jesse I would think about the stark contrasts of my life just then. There I was holding this brand new little person, who was round-cheeked and full of health and smiles and new beginnings. And next to me was my mom, grayish and weary with tubes coming out of her arms, full of sickness and seeming very much to be at the end of her days. It struck me – how beautiful and broken life could be all at the same time. So much joy and so much sorrow intermingling and making up those days.

We are still in the Christmas season – just last Sunday we were gathering around the manger and welcoming a new baby – Jesus, the Christ, our Savior was born. Our Gospel was all about Light and Love coming into the world – pure joy and beauty.

And here we just a week later and we have probably the worst Gospel text we ever get in our three-year rotation of Sunday morning scriptures. King Herod, full of fear and jealousy, wanting to protect his throne from this infant king has put out a hit on all the children two years old and under in and around Bethlehem. Pure brokenness and horror.

Turns out the Christmas season can hold its’ share of joy and sorrow as well.

King Herod ruled in Judea for 37 years. He built many fortresses, aqueducts, theatres, and other public buildings and generally raised the prosperity of his land, however, there was a dark and cruel streak in Herod’s character that showed itself increasingly as he grew older. He was prone to intense jealousy and it is recorded that his mind was so poisoned against one of his wives, Mariamne, that he murdered her, her two sons, her brother, her grandfather, and her mother.

We know the story about how he sent the wise men to go and search for baby Jesus and when they found him they were to send word back to King Herod. He told them he wanted to pay homage to this baby king as well. But then after the wise men found the baby Jesus and brought him the famed gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod. Herod’s darkness overcomes him when he finds out that the wise men haven’t done as he told them to do. Rage fills him and that is when he calls for the murder of these children.

It’s worthwhile to note that this story in our New Testament, only told by Saint Matthew, is never told anywhere else in any historical records. This has caused some historians to question if it ever really happened or not. Others say that it probably did happen – especially knowing Herod’s temperament – but the amount of children of that age in and around Bethlehem was such a small number, perhaps less than twenty, that it just was not recorded by other historians.

But regardless of the stories historicity, there is something deeply fitting about Matthew telling this story in his gospel even as we are still basking in the glow of the Christmas season. No matter how much we have tried to sanitize and tame the story of the birth of Jesus, turn it into a sweet story about a baby in a manger, the truth is that he was born into a world of sin. A place that then, as now, holds its’ share of both startling beauty and unspeakable darkness. He was born to be Light in that darkness. To be hope when all other hope seems lost.

Is he light in your darkness? Does God’s word bring you comfort and peace in times of distress? Do you find strength for your days and wisdom for your journey as you kneel at the foot of the cross? Do you long for more light, more comfort, peace, and strength?

If you are hoping to feed your Spirit in this new year, to feel more plugged in to the Source of Life – there are ways to do this. The first way toward that comes through prayer. It comes through daily making a practice of talking to and listening for God. It comes through meditation, stillness. You know how when someone is trying to speak to you but if you aren’t paying attention or only half-listening, you miss it? That’s how it is when we don’t make time for prayer and devotion in our days. God is always speaking to us, but much of the time we aren’t paying attention – we are so busy running from one thing to the next, filling our minds with noise, making lists, checking our phones, that we leave hardly any room for the Spirit to move. Just a couple days ago, I went to the eye doctor and I had brought a book with me for while I were waiting – but over the course of the appointment as I was ushered from one room to the next, of course they dilated my eyes and then I had to wait for a bit in a waiting room with my eyes dilated. I couldn’t read my book. I couldn’t check my phone. I had to just sit there quietly. It is moments like that when I realize how seldom I am just still without doing something or reading or watching something – I’m always filling in those spaces.

It struck me as I read our Gospel that it was twice in dreams that God gave a message to Joseph – first to tell him to take his family and flee, to become refugees, immigrants in a strange land, because they were in danger and then the second time to once again take his family and go to Israel.  It had also been in a dream when Joseph was informed that Jesus would be born. Dreams – and visions – (which are simply dreams while awake) were written about all the time in the Bible. God used visions and dreams to communicate with people – in fact, when there was a lack of dreams or visions among the people, it meant that something was wrong, that people weren’t paying attention to God.

Just doing a quick search I could find at least 39 times in the Bible when God spoke to people through dreams and visions. God didn’t just speak to people of old – God is still speaking to us and through us. The only question is, are we listening?

And the best way to listen is to well, listen. Monks set aside hours for lectio divina – or spiritual reading. However, even we non-monks need to make time for transcendent matters – such as beauty, creativity, service, faith – but too often these get pushed aside for more urgent demands, and life begins to feel empty and purposeless. So my first challenge for you in this new calendar year is to make time to listen, be still, and pray.

And the second excellent way to feed your spirit and feel connected to what is important is this:  find a way to serve. Partly because there are countless places and people that need help, but mostly because you need it. We all need to daily remember God put us here not just to get through our days and collect as many things as possible while we do it, but to make those days matter. As Jesus came to be Light in our darkness, every day we can be light in the darkness for others. What a magnificent and beautiful and holy thing – and we get to be a part of that.

So a new year begins. How lovely we get to begin it here in worship, our hearts centered on the One who made us and loves us most of all – and as we do, my challenge for all of us this year is that we come to this place every day – not to this church building – but to this place of worship – through moments of devotion and prayer, through daily looking for ways to serve God and others.

And when we do, it truly will be a happy new year.  

Let’s pray –

Oh God,

Thank you for this new year – a fresh slate upon which to draw

May we draw love – bringing mercy and grace and goodwill into every room we enter.

May we draw justice – standing up for others, never allowing hate or prejudice to thrive.

May we draw stillness – quiet moments with You, giving us strength and wisdom for our days.

May we draw compassion – reaching out with the time and energy we have to do good in our church, community, and world.

May we draw creativity – imagining new ways to share your love

May we draw strength and guidance only from You, our maker and redeemer, our light, our life our hope. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.