Second Sunday Epiphany 2023

The Power in a Name: Isaiah 49: 1-7; John 1: 35-42

            Typically, one of the first things a person asks when meeting you is your name. Now, growing up in rural Eastern Kentucky, asking someone’s name was an entire study in genealogical history. You’d get the full, “Oh, so your daddy’s family is so-and-so; your momma came from that family over in Wallins; your grandmother lived up in Cawood,” and so on. Much of it was to find all the rich friendship and family connections. It also was something kind of important to do before a first date in a rural area with close-knit families…if you get my drift.

            There is power and history in a name, and in the names which we’ve been given. I remember in grade school we did a name study. I learned that my name, “William” means “determined guardian” or “resolute protector.” The meaning of that name has stuck with me through the years. You might have family names as well handed down through the generations which identify you as part of your group of people or “kinfolk” as we say.

            Our Gospel lesson today is heavy on names and their powerful meanings. The first name we hear is John the Baptist referring to Jesus as the “Lamb of God.” This name is particular for John as he preached that he baptized with water, but Jesus would baptize with the Holy Spirit. To him, Jesus is the Lamb of God, the one who takes away the sins of the world. That name is important. For us, Jesus is still known as the Lamb of God—the one who brings grace and mercy to us, the one who saves us from all the bad in this world…Jesus, the Lamb of God.

            But there is another name used for Jesus in this scripture. The first two disciples who leave John and follow Jesus refer to him as “Rabbi.” They had learned and studied under John about his teachings of the coming Messiah. So, they come to identify Jesus in the same way as their new Rabbi or teacher who would give them the knowledge of how to live in this world. That is true for us too. Jesus is a Rabbi to us, for we are taught to follow his teachings, obey his words, and follow his example in this world, for Jesus is the Holy One, who not only gives us grace, but gives us a truly Godly example of how to live as Christians.

            The disciple Andrew gives Jesus one more name, though, the Messiah. This name goes beyond Rabbi, beyond Lamb of God, for in calling Jesus the Messiah, they refer to him as the one who fulfills God’s holy covenant with the people. For centuries, the Israelites had looked for this deliverer from God—promised to them by God’s own word. Jesus, the Messiah, is proof of God’s promises fulfilled and the people’s prayers answered.

            But the naming doesn’t just stop with Jesus. The whole thing is turned around, and Jesus says to Simon, his newest disciple, “You will be called Cephas,” or “Peter” in the Greek. Ironically, “Simon” means “to listen,” something Peter was not all that good at, but the translation of Peter means “rock,” and we are told elsewhere that upon this rock God will build the church. In some ways, Peter is not just the new name for Simon, Son of John, but a name for all of Christ’s followers—the rocks upon which God’s church is built and grows.

            Now, what does this long history of names and meanings hold for us here and now? Let me ask it this way: what does it mean when we say we are The Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, and especially that last part. What does it mean to us to say to others, whether they have faith, a church, or nothing, that we are Disciples of Christ. If you say Baptist, Pentecostal, Catholic, or Methodist, most of society has a general idea of what those are and the usual stereotypes that go along with them. But what a more intimate, personal, and challenging thing to call ourselves Disciples of Christ.

            What does it mean to say we are First Christian Church? There may be past associations for folks who had family here. Frankly, I think almost every person in Macon had a family member pass through this church at one time or another. Maybe some remember a history that wasn’t so nice, or welcoming, or nurturing at some time or another, or even remember conflict. But the question should never be how we fell short 50 years ago, 20 years ago, or even 5 minutes ago. Instead, where are we going with the name and the calling we’ve committed ourselves to?

            The story of the Gospel, the point of grace, and the work of Christ points toward the future. We’ve become, by our faith, Children of God. We’ve become, by our commitment here, Disciples of Christ. Now what are we going to do with that? How do we explain it? How do we live by that name we have received? Isaiah gives a word of wisdom on this. In the prophetic words, we hear, “You are my servant, Israel, and you will bring me glory.” The reply is that the work seems useless, strength has been wasted, and no purpose fulfilled.

            The only hope is to leave it all in God’s hand. But the Lord reminds the writer of what Jesus, the Lamb of God, Rabbi, Messiah means to the people: “You will do more than restore the people of Israel to me. I will make you a light o the Gentiles, and you will bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.” It was a calling and a following that or early followers of Jesus had to work out and find a way to live up to. And that calling still comes down the years to us.

            There truly is power in a name: Lamb of God, Rabbi, Messiah. All throughout the Bible, there are different names for God for what the people needed: healer, redeemer, savior, guide. For us, there are many powerful names associated with or faith: child of God, friend, minister, teacher, witness. As a church and people of faith we call ourselves Disciples of Christ. Our very name speaks to our desire to follow Christ in faith and in life as closely as we can.

             I pray that we take this name to heart, and I pray it inspires us in our lives of faith. If I ask who we are as a family of faith, the Disciples of Christ say, “We are the Disciples of Christ, a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. As part of the one Body of Christ, we welcome all to the Lord’s Table as God has welcomed us.” And so may we work each day to live out the meaning of our name—children of God, and Disciples of Christ in this world.

 Worship Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/3962043600731018 

Baptism of the Lord

Wade into the Deep End: Isaiah 42: 1-9; Matthew 3: 13-17

            Growing up, my uncle had a pool at his house, and during the summer, that was often a very nice place to find a break from the heat outside. I remember, though, when I was little there was always a very stern warning. There was a shallow end of about 4 feet which dropped off suddenly to a much deeper end of about 9-10 feet. I was told very, very clearly as a child, “Do NOT wade into the deep end of the pool.” I listened carefully. I processed fully. I understood completely.

And then I deliberately and obnoxiously chose to constantly wade as close to the drop off as I could and pretended that it was an accident just get a rise out of the family. Now, Mom, if you’re watching, Jesus teaches grace, not a 32-year delayed consequence. I’m just saying.  

We’re often trained that way from a young age: don’t wade into the deep end; don’t get too close to the edge; don’t get too wrapped up in it, just leave it be and keep to yourself. It makes me think of an old poem by Shel Silverstein: “Listen to the Mustn’ts.” It goes, “Listen to the Mustn’ts, child, listen to the Don’ts. / Listen to the Shouldn’ts, the Impossibles, the Won’ts. / Listen to the Never Haves, then listen close to me./ Anything can happen, child, Anything can be.”

We read in today’s Gospel that Jesus came to be baptized of John the Baptist. But as he came close, John protested what was about to happen. Matthew weaves into this Gospel the concept that John the Baptist knew and recognized the power of Jesus. This is one of those few stories contained in all four Gospels. Mark’s is very to the point. Jesus is baptized and the Holy Spirit’s dove appears. Luke is identical to Mark. And John gives a wildly complex and different version as John’s gospel is apt to do. Matthew, though, is simple and to the point.

Jesus is baptized, as he says God requires, and Isaiah 42 is publicly fulfilled when the Spirit comes upon Jesus in the form of the dove. John the Baptist came in preparation, but Jesus came in power. This was the public proclamation of Jesus’s ministry beginning. For a people who clung to signs and wonders, the dove-like Holy Spirit and the heavenly voice was indisputable proof of Jesus’s mission and power. John had prepared, and Jesus came in power.

Baptism marks the same for us. In our hearts we repent, and we feel that something is amiss without God’s love and presence with us each day. It’s easy to choose belief, but that step of faith and public proclamation at baptism signals our commitment not just to believe in Jesus, but to actually follow him as well. Growing up, we probably all heard about Jesus knocking on our heart’s door and that we need to believe and let him in. I hate to pull the rug out from under you, but that’s the shallow end of the pool. If you want to wade into the deep end, you need to actually follow the wisdom and example Jesus left us.

Isaiah gives us that glimpse of Jesus’s call. There is no shouting, crushing, crashing and banging. Jesus used his power not for conquest and abuse, but to bring justice, breath, and life to all. Then, Christ becomes the light which guides the nations with sight to the blind, freedom to the imprisoned, release to the oppressed, and grace to us all. It is a very big job.

So, what does all of this mean to us? We are each one baptized just as Jesus was, where we publicly proclaim our covenant with all the people of God to follow Christ with faith and mission in this world. Some days, many days, maybe most days, this feels like a losing battle. But we serve a living, loving God who will never be defeated in the work of hope.

For us it can be pretty specific. If we are called to follow Christ, where does our next step lead us? We have a lovely building and campus. We have a neighborhood with a high rate of folks without a church home. We have grounds and space to bring a community in even as we take our faith outside these walls. We have a strong motivation, a faith family that is one of the most welcoming and loving I’ve ever seen in a church building. The truth is there’s enough here to fill up the shallow end of the pool to overflowing, but do we dare wade into the deeper waters of faith?

The song we heard, “Wade in the Water,” is an old spiritual used to signal those escaping slavery to freedom about potential dangers along the way. When they heard the song saying to wade into the water, those running for freedom knew they had to wade out into deeper water to keep from being tracked by hounds. I’m sure wading into deep water in the dark was terrifying. But they had a mission to get to freedom, which their very lives depended on. Following the leader out into deep water may have been frightening, but it was the safest place they could be led. It was the only place they could potentially find freedom and hope.

The truth of life is that we think things are safer on the shallow end of the pool. That’s why we’re so often taught to stay there, not to go out too deep, not to get too close to the edge, not to get all that involved. Stay at a safe distance! It’s what we’ve been taught all along. But what do we do when we commit to following Jesus, and then he wades right out into the deep end of the pool, turns around, and waits for us? We have this choice. Do we remain right here where we think it’s safe, where we’ve been taught to stay put, where we know for sure the water won’t go over our heads? Or, do we trust Jesus and wade out into the deep end to meet him? The truth is that the safest place to be is right where Jesus is. And he quite literally waded out into the water.

I guess it comes down to this: when we go under the baptismal waters, and then feel that presence of God in the Spirit with us, do we hear God say, “This is my beloved in whom I’m well pleased,” when we stay in the safety of the shallow end, or do we hear it when we trust Jesus and wade out into deep water? No matter how many times we hear, “Do NOT wade into the deep end,” the reality is that the shallow end is not so safe. We must instead hear those words of Shel Silverstein, “Anything is possible, Anything can be,” and prepare our hearts to trust because it all comes down to trusting Jesus in the end and being willing to follow him from that covenant we make in faith and baptism. Jesus is calling us to wade out into the deep water and meet him. And I believe we will find those deep waters just beyond the threshold of that door if we are willing to go and do.

 Service Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/711532487344868

Epiphany

Are We Moved? Isaiah 60: 1-6; Matthew 2: 1-12

            The past two weeks have been “those kinds of weeks.” When I arrived home for Christmas, my grandmother and aunt were struggling with the flu, and my mother was sick too. It was a windchill of -20 degrees. Then arriving back here a pipe outside the fellowship hall burst requiring 3 feet of digging. The hallway and part of the downstairs were flooded requiring repairs, testing, and the joys of insurance claims. By Thursday and Friday, I was greeting folks with the phrase, “Merry Crisis!” instead of Merry Christmas.

            I’m going to say something slightly sacrilegious here, so don’t be offended, and hang with me till it resolves. Sometimes, I feel like we get a bit sick of church. We still love God, but the thought of getting out of bed, getting through hymns, prayers, communion, driving there and back, and even putting on something besides pajamas just drives us a bit bonkers. While I was playing and participating at Christ Episcopal Church in Harlan, Kentucky, on Christmas Eve, the priest shook his head and said, “I’m tired of you all sitting there like a bunch of puddings.” He said, essentially, respond in some way! But how do we respond when we are just so very tired?

            In all that struggle, tiredness, irritation, fatigue, and worry, we come again to the story of the Wise Men who visited the Christ-child. For twelve years now, I have preached this story, and you all have very kindly listened or at least stayed awake. And like every year, we all wonder, exactly what can we learn from the same story? But every year, there seems to be something new that can speak to us from the journey of these Magi to see the new-born king.

            They came generally “from the East” as Matthew says. Historically, we would know them as a priestly cast in Persia or modern-day Iran. They are guided by their study of astrology, ancient texts, and sheer faith. If they are indeed from Persia, it is roughly an 1,100 mile trip to Bethlehem. But the most important part of the story is that they simply and faithfully followed a star which seemed miraculous based on their studies. There’s no record of any visions, voices from the heavens, holy messengers, or angelic choruses. The studied, the watched, and they believed.

            Their faith compelled them on a treacherous journey. It would have taken months. They were exposed to robbery, danger, harsh elements, and untold suffering on this journey. Even if they were of wealth and power, this journey to see Jesus was incredibly dangerous and took an incredible amount of time. Yet, still, they got up, and they too made haste, like the shepherds, based on their faith and the sign of a star in the heavens. They were neither Hebrew nor scholars of Christianity (because it didn’t yet exist). The had the most strained and minimal connections to this whole miracle which was unfolding. Yet whatever faith they had urged them on to find the Christ-child—to seek out this new and miraculous, holy presence on earth.

            When our “get up and go” has “got up and gone,” that same power and presence of God that journeyed beside the Wise Men will be with us as well. They were so moved by the texts and the sign of the star that they willingly chose to suffer on this long and hard journey not really even sure what they were going to find on the other end. Mary had an angel. Joseph has a dream. The shepherds had a whole choir in the sky. But the Magi…they only had their study and their faith.

            When we feel at our most empty, we can come back to this story. These Gentiles who had no real walk with God like the prophets or Hebrew people, had no clear guidance, different religious practices, and no real clue where exactly they were going found the courage in them and God’s strength around them to get up and go on this journey.

            Their wisdom and knowledge, as well as their faith in what they saw, served them well. They brought to Jesus, gold for a king, frankincense for the holiness, and myrrh for a death. They studied the ancient texts, believed in the sign God gave, and intuited enough to know the truth of those words of our first him, “Christ and God, and sacrifice: alleluia, alleluia, sounds through the earth and skies.”

            Do we still find ourselves motivated to seek out Christ in the same way the Wise Men made that journey to him? Are we somehow moved and encouraged to seek out the star which would guide us as well according to God’s will? Or, as the Rev. George Kavoor noted on Christmas Eve, are we just going to sit here like a bunch of puddings?

            God has not changed. God’s mission has not changed. The need for the people in this world to have a relationship with a God who loves them has not changed, and I daresay it has grown exponentially while the church languished. It was sheer wisdom and faith that pushed the Magi to get up and go over a thousand miles to find Christ, and what, what is it going to take to move the whole church of today in the same urgent and hopeful way? The need in our world has not changed, but the energy and stamina of Christ’s people surely has. We need to journey back to a place where we walk in the light, of Jesus, the light of the world. We need to find the faith to shine that light brightly in the world.

            Theologian Howard Thurman wrote a poem called “The Mood of Christmas.” Listen now to the words.

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,           

            The work of Christmas begins:

            To find the lost, to heal the broken,

            To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner,

            To rebuild the nations, to bring peace among people,

            To make music in the heart.

When the journey is hard for us and they way seems very difficult to find, may we remember that God is still with us on the journey. Walking together, we will always be able to find Christ, the light of the world. And we’ll walk in the light, beautiful light, Jesus, the light of the world. Amen.

Service Video: https://www.facebook.com/watch/live/?ref=notif&v=3505954942977566&notif_id=1672587660897252&notif_t=live_video_explicit

Christmas Day Order

“Joy to the World” Amanda McFarling & Michael Gardiner

Lighting the Advent Candles

Reader: Good Morning!  On this Christmas we are gathered as God’s people to celebrate again what Christ’s coming means to the world.  God and sinner reconciled, the hope of the world, the love of the world, our Savior. We light these candles: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love, knowing the work of a God who is with us. We also light the Christ Candle in celebration of the Mighty God, the Everlasting One, the Prince of Peace.

Let us pray: Open our hearts, merciful God, to the light of your presence still in this world. Open our eyes, that we might behold your presence in the least likely of places, and among the least likely of people. God with us, kindle your fire within us, that together we may shine forth your light, we might banish the shadows of this world, we might be the continuation of the Christmas miracle: Emmanuel is in this world, God is with us, now and evermore, in Christ we pray. Amen.

Reading: Luke 2: 1-20

Meditation: “A Christmas Wish”

Communion

Benediction

Postlude—Michael Gardiner

1 Joy to the world, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

let every heart prepare him room,

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

2 Joy to the world, the Savior reigns!

Let all their songs employ;

while fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding joy,

repeat the sounding joy,

repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

3 He rules the world with truth and grace,

and makes the nations prove

the glories of his righteousness

and wonders of his love,

and wonders of his love,

and wonders, wonders of his love.

Christmas Eve Order

Call to Worship: “While We Are Waiting Come”

Lighting the Candles

Reader:  Good evening!  On this Christmas Eve we are gathered as God’s people to celebrate what Christ’s birth means to the world. We join with Christians all over the world who are celebrating tonight, that holy presence, God With Us.

Tonight, we relight the four candles: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. We also light the Christ Candle and give thanks. Praise to Christ, Emmanuel, God with us. Alleluia, Alleluia.  

Let us pray: We thank you, God, for your gift of Jesus Christ to the world.  We thank you that Christ’s coming makes hope, peace, love, and joy possible for every person in every nation.  Encourage us to do our part to bring goodwill and peace to our families, our churches, our neighborhoods, and the world.  Now let your Spirit put us in touch with you, the living God, through the words and music we hear tonight.  In the name of Jesus Christ, we pray.  Amen.

Invitation to Communion

Words of Institution

Prayer for the Emblems

Sharing of Communion

Hymn: “Silent Night”

Benediction

1 Silent night, holy night,

all is calm, all is bright,

round yon virgin mother and child,

holy infant, so tender and mild,

sleep in heavenly peace,

sleep in heavenly peace.

2 Silent night, holy night.

shepherds quake at the sight,

glories stream from heaven afar,

heavenly hosts sing alleluia;

Christ, the Savior is born,

Christ, the Savior is born!

4 Silent night, holy night,

wondrous star, lend thy light;

with the angels let us sing,

alleluia to our King;

Christ, the Savior, is born,

Christ, the Savior, is born.

Advent 4: Love

Meditation on the Power of Love: John 1: 19-28

            When Fr. Alfred Delp became a Jesuit priest in 1926 Germany, I’m sure he never thought he would become one of the most well-known people in the Catholic resistance to Naziism. He spoke openly and strongly against Hitler and the Nazi party from the very beginning. He used his position of power and influence in the church to help Jewish people and others targeted by the Nazis escape to Switzerland. In 1944, he was tried and convicted of plotting to kill Hitler, though he had no role or knowledge in the plot and was sentenced to death by hanging. The words you heard earlier were some of the last he wrote before his death.

            In particular, he wrote, “We must not shrink from or suppress the earnest words of these crying voices, so that those who today are our executioners will not tomorrow become accusers because we have remained silent.” If you missed it, he’s advocating for a witness of God’s love even to the executioner, so that Delp and others who face the end do not miss the opportunity to bring God’s grace into one more person’s life. Even at their own death.

            We read in this rather strange Gospel lesson today about John’s back and forth with the Pharisees who came to see him. It’s easy to find this a pretty weird reading on the Sunday of love in Advent. But we have to put it into context. This was not some attempt for clarity from the Temple. It was an interrogation. In verse 19 we read that it was the Temple priests and assistants who came to interrogate John the Baptist about what he was doing. Through both Temple opposition and Herod’s evil, John the Baptist would also soon be dead. Executed.

            Now you may ask, Dear Pastor, why are you talking about Nazis and executions on the Sunday right before Christmas. It’s the love Sunday for goodness’ sake! The truth is that there is no greater act of love than sacrifice—and Jesus showed us the way that sacrifice brought love in death and new life. Love is born out of sacrifice, because nothing calls us to act in this way more than that sense of relationship, care, connection, spiritual power that is found in loving someone.

            Christ came to earth, lived amongst the struggle here, experienced an innocent death and lives in hope and resurrection because of that love God has for us. That kind of love makes us willing to sacrifice. Think about it, when you truly love someone, you’d spend every dime you had to keep them safe and healthy. When you truly love someone, you will push yourself to the absolute physical limit to care for them and help them. When you love someone, you are willing to give up everything for them. That’s how much God loves us—strange and unexplainable as it may be. God created us, and God loves us.

            Love will call us to speak against suffering and evil. Love will call us to stand for what is good and holy even if society doesn’t like it. My friend at work talks about his father’s time as a minister in the Church of God. His dad believed in the 1960s in the inherent dignity and Godly love of all people regardless of the color of their skin. He was one of the few white pastors who marched for equality. I’m sure and absolutely certain it cost him. But he stood for what God said was right when the Bible said that we are all children of God and beloved by our creator.

            Fr. Delp intellectually understood that love of God and felt it in his heart. He preached and fought against a regime that taught hate as virtue and murder as good work. His Godly love of others led him to risk his own life to save people he had never met and would never see again. But I’m sure for his understanding, God had created and given them life, and that was sufficient to believe in God’s love and grace for each person Fr. Delp helped.

            The carol “Once in Royal David’s City” is not sung as often in the United States as it is in Britain. It is the carol that starts off the famous Lessons and Carols from Kings College at Cambridge in England. That last verse gives us one of the most faith-filled and theologically packed statements of just about any hymn.

And our eyes at last shall see Him, / Through his own redeeming love;

For that child who seemed so helpless, / Lives and reigns in heaven above;

And he leads his children on / To the place where he is gone.

The promise of Christmas is that we shall one day see Christ face to face. We will know the One who came as a helpless baby into a dark world and lived a life that brought light to us. And through our faith, we will join him in a blessed and eternal reward. And what makes this possible? It is his own redeeming love.

            The power of love gives us the strength to sacrifice. John the Baptist found that power in the knowledge of the coming grace through Jesus. Fr. Alfred Delp found that same power in Nazi Germany to preach a message of hope and love even unto his very abrupt end. But we see modern day examples of this as well. Amir Nasr-Azadani, a 26-year-old soccer player from Iran who played in the World Cup, used his national celebrity and recognition to protest the death of a young woman killed by the morality police for not properly wearing her head covering. His love of his people and understanding of right and wrong led him to speak out. He was sentenced to death this week for it.

            All over the world, the power of love calls people to sacrifice for the people whom God has created, loved and offered redemption. Christmas is a story of God’s love and promise to us as a people. But it is also a story covered by the shadow of a cross because love calls us to sacrifice for those whom we hold close in our heart. But take heart. Fr. Delp did not waver nor struggle with his choice to stand and sacrifice for God’s call. His last words to the prison chaplain before his death were a joke. He smiled and said, “In half an hour, I’ll know more than you do.” So sure was his faith that it overcame his fear.

            God’s redeeming love is the only power that will change the hearts and minds in a dark and fearful world. God’s love is the only thing that will give us the courage to stand for what is right and holy and to build a place where truth is taught, faith is practiced, justice is a reality, and Christ is followed in all things. I pray this Christmas we continue to hold on to the hope in God’s promise, find peace in God’s presence, experience the joy following God’s leadership brings, and know the true power of God’s redeeming love.

Worship Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/1765192510516314

Advent 3: Joy

Joy in the Darkest Night: Luke 2: 8-14

            This week, I spent some time re-watching A Christmas Carol to get into the Christmas spirit. If you think back to the book or movie, it tells of Ebeneezer Scrooge, who lives in a life of darkness. He refuses to light extra coal for heat or light. His house is dark and cold. His office was dark and cold, and you could say that he personally was dark and very, very cold. Through a series of spectral visits, he transforms his sense of “Bah-humbug” at Christmas to a warm, generous, and joyous spirit.

            But think of that hateful response—bah-humbug. He said it about any notion of joy and hope. He said it about being charitable and caring about the poor. He said it about family, kindness, all things good, all things Christ-like. Bah-humbug. We live in a similar society, a bah-humbug society. We live in a time where people care more about politics than people, care more about being theologically right than working for Christ’s mission, and care more about the diet of 24-hour news than any Biblical story of hope. Don’t believe it? You need only look at how many churches are fighting over property, polity, and being a part of a denomination instead of caring about the suffering of people and state of the souls in the pews.

            But Jesus was born into a time not so different. It was a dark and cold, miserable society in first century Judea. We learn in school about the greatness of Rome—the Pax Romana or Roman peace that lasted for some 200 years. But the people did not truly live in this glorious peace as Dorothee Soelle pointed out. It was a time of great suffering and of the vicious and severe rule of the Roman Empire. Peace was achieved through war, oppression, and fear. Rome kept a census to know who to tax, and who might be a threat. Rome ruled the people with tyranny.

            Into this world of darkness and sin, Christ, the Savior, was born in Bethlehem…the one who would not only be our saving grace, but whose life set the pattern for how to live in such a world. But Luke tells us that Jesus was not born in royalty. It was practically scandalous that the Messiah was born to a poor carpenter in a low and humble way. It would be even more unbelievable that the first people to hear of the good news and travel to Bethlehem were Shepherds. In those days, shepherds were despised as lowlife drifters who often exploited the land and resources of others. The whole story was shocking and unbelievable to those looking for Messiah.

            We, too, look in all the wrong places for a Messiah. You cannot vote your way out of sin and darkness because the politicians cannot deliver us like that. You cannot study your way out of sin and darkness because Jesus’s life was lived bringing grace in the world. You cannot buy your way out. You cannot guide yourself out because the sinful systems of this world are all around us and hold us hostage. Think of it this way: the person who gives up alcohol will drive by 5 liquor stores in his town. The person who gives up sugar will find 100 ads for dessert on her computer. The person who resolves never to support corporate exploitation will go to buy a shirt and find clothing racks filled with items made by children in foreign countries. You cannot escape a world where sin lives, and it can be a dark and joyless place.

            The only way out is by finding the light that leads us to Bethlehem where God meets us in the form of Jesus, the Son and Savior. Luke, as a Gospel, reminds us that Jesus lived and worked predominantly among the poor, the marginalized, the suffering, and the poor in spirit. When you journey to Bethlehem you will find Christ waiting for you there. Joy in a world sin and darkness is found in the face of a mother who gets food at Christmas instead of facing another hungry night or a child getting toys at Christmas. Joy in a world of sin is found in a frail or elderly person who smiles with recognition and love for the first time in months. Joy is found when someone who felt like the church and society hated them finds a place of God’s welcome and holiness. Joy is found when we lift up our heads and remember who our Savior is and whose life and light we represent here. 

            Every year, in Advent, we are invited to journey to Bethlehem. There we find a baby whose message in life would be that what is important for us is that we are children of God. Just as Jesus worked to heal, help, and save, so too must we have the faith that encourages us to heal and help our community. I think back to the narrative of A Christmas Carol. When Scrooge is asked about giving to the poor by two colleagues at the exchange, he demands that the poor be sent to prisons and workhouses as his taxes go to pay those. It’s an unbelievably cruel response to those who are desperately in need.

            But in the end Scrooge is shown his own grave. He finds out that his own life brought no joy, and his death lacked any hope at all. In the end, that knowledge softens his cold heart. As we journey to Bethlehem, we find a Savior who did not come to overpower Rome, to take back King David’s throne from Herod, or to be the ruling emperor. We find, instead, a Savior who came for the redemption of hearts and souls in a people wandering in the darkness of the world.

            Each year we journey to Bethlehem again. We travel through the holy announcements to Mary and Elizabeth, the proclamation of John the Baptist, the shepherds, the wisemen, and the angels—all who tell us the way to this light of Christ who came to bring hope to a people acquainted with death and joy to a people living under political and sinful oppression. We too are reminded of the words of Isaiah 9:2, “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine.”

            Whatever place of darkness we find ourselves in, we can follow that light of Christ to Bethlehem. If we have a personal darkness we struggle with, if we are suffering because of the ba-humbug of the world we live in, or if we feel like we just can’t escape the evil around us, remember that the light of Christ leads us into a joyful redemption and a new hope for how we live here in the world. And so we come to Bethlehem where Christ will meet us and we pray, “Jesus, our Lord, Emmanuel, come, Savior, quickly come.”

Worship Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/2110140759196183

Advent 2: Peace

The Peace of Discomfort: Luke 1: 39-56

            I remember growing up we used to vacation at Dollywood every year. Don’t judge now—I love Dolly! One of my favorite things to do as a kid was ride the rides. And so, the kids and a couple adults in the family would run from ride to ride and gather up at the back of the line. Then…we’d wait. Slowly, inch by inch, the line would move until you reached this point of overexcitement from anticipation and unending irritation at having to wait. Waiting is no fun. Waiting challenges our peace in life.

            Watch hungry people wait for the food while the kitchen at the restaurant is backed up. It takes no time at all for the hangry to change their whole personality. And if someone who ordered after you gets their food first? Time to pray up a hedge of protection for somebody. Watch people stuck in traffic in Henry County driving forward on the interstate at 5 miles per hour. Twenty minutes in you find out just how many swear words and lane-weaving skills your driver knows. Waiting does not come easy to us. It challenges our peace and leaves us with this overwhelming sense of discomfort and displeasure.

            And yet, sometimes, waiting is the most powerful thing we can do. I believe we get bothered by waiting because we believe it’s useless, wasting time, and a completely pointless task. We are trained to be people who are doing something. We glance at phones, watch the tv, listen to music, listen to audio books, anything we can do to distract us from those times and places where we have to sit in the stillness and wait. It eases the discomfort…filling in that silence with something even if it’s just a mindless distraction.

            Yet God often makes us wait. The people in ancient times waited for a Messiah. For many years, God was silent There is almost 400 years of prophetic silence between Malachi and Matthew. And in that time, the people had no choice but to wait for God to speak. They performed the rituals, did their best to keep the faith, and waited for a Messiah.

            In fact, sometimes, our best lessons are learned during the long and difficult waiting periods. Mary and Elizabeth understood waiting. An angel appeared and made this sweeping prophecy about the birth of a herald and the birth of a Savior. It was a moment of awe, amazement, and holiness in both their lives. But what happened next? They waited. It takes close to three-quarters of a year for a baby to be born. They waited. But in their waiting, something miraculous and holy was about to happen.

            Waiting should never be filled with a sense of nothingness. Waiting, as Fr. Henri Nouwen says, should be filled with promise and action. This is not idle action of doodling on your phone or watching 30 hours of television. Waiting becomes powerful and peaceful to us when there is a sense of promise and purpose. Elizabeth and Mary could endure the long months of pregnancy because there was the promise of a Savior to be born. They believed and trusted in the words God has spoken through the angel. Mary says in her song of praise, “For [the Lord] made this promise to our ancestors, to Abraham and his children forever.”

            When we wait for the Lord, we always wait with a promise. If we are sick, we wait with the promise of healing or resurrection. If we are hurting, we wait with the promise of a God who loves us. If we are wandering in a life of sin and rebellion, we wait with the promise that God’s love can change the hardest heart right down to the most minor of affronts. If we are waiting for love, we have the promise of Immanuel, God with us. With God in our lives, our waiting is never in vain, for God waits with us full of promise and steadfast with a holy presence.

            But we also wait with purpose. Mary foreshadows in her heart and mind the purpose of her child: mercy from generation to generation, bringing down the proud, greedy, and exploitive ones, honoring the humble, meek, and lowly. She sings this song of a coming work and purpose. She is waiting to raise this child who would one day be the lasting example of God’s love and the deliverer of humankind.

            We read near the end of the Luke 2 scripture on Jesus’s birth that Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. I believe she pondered and knew—the holiness, the miraculous, the teaching, the example, the suffering, the agony, the death, and the everlasting hope. I believe from what she sings here that all of this holy and miraculous plan was on her mind and in her heart. She was waiting with purpose—to deliver a child who would deliver us and her in turn. She understood that her obedience and willingness to follow God would bring us the miraculous.

            Too often, we see waiting as wasted time. And I believe that sometimes we talk ourselves out of a good and fruitful waiting period. We say there’s nothing happening, that we’re too old, too helpless, too busy, too inexperienced, too set in our ways for something this new and different.  Sometimes we talk ourselves right into the very discomfort we believe waiting brings. But Mary and Elizabeth waited with the promise of a Savior and deliverance. They waited with purpose that they would birth both the preparation and the redemption of the world. They waited, knowing that God would take these children and, in their adulthood, work the miraculous, the redemptive, and the holy. For them, all of that promise and purpose was most definitely worth waiting for.

            Waiting does not come easily to us. The other day I got to wait in line to vote with Kathy for close to an hour. I didn’t have my phone, didn’t bring a book, and had about a teaspoon full of patience left. But instead of focusing solely on the fact that I had to wait. I began to ask why I was waiting as I shuffled through the line. It was like milling through those old theme park lines as a child, only instead of a fun ride you get to vote again for one of the two people you probably voted for about six weeks ago. Adulthood tends to sap the fun out of things like that, doesn’t it?

            But when we find ourselves waiting, focus in on the why—the purpose and the promise that is coming. Waiting will never become easy. It will always bring some level of physical discomfort or the increasing noise of impatience. But as we turn our hearts to the promise and the purpose, the why, of waiting, we will find that even in the midst of our discomfort, God will give us peace.

            Worship Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/888852195614372

Advent 1: Hope

A Light Which Brings Hope: John 1: 1-18

            In the beginning was the Word, a King, a Conqueror, a Lord and Savior, a Divine and Majestic Leader. All of these things rested on the minds of those looking for a Savior and Messiah. They expected a mighty and powerful force; someone with the very thunder and chariots of Heaven at his beck and call ready to come and end the oppression of God’s people at the hands of Rome and Herod. And yet they got a baby, born in poverty, and living in a lower class, working home in the hinterlands of first century Judea.

            Society has worshipped power and might throughout all of history. We learn in our history classes of the massive empires in history. We rank leaders of nations based on the political skill and power they are able to wield. We insist that everything and everyone should be strong and perfect, able to command the world around them, in charge, and in perfect control at all times and in all situations. Might and power truly are idolized in our world. But that picture is not what Advent and the birth of Jesus give us. John 1:14 says, “So the Word became human and made his home among us.” From divine to human Jesus came to us. John also tells us that the world did not recognize Jesus. It rejected him. And eventually the world killed him even as he begged for the world to follow him.

            Power is not found in might and strength. Humanity may worship the ones who are the strongest, buffest, and most mighty. But Christ came to us as a humble child, meek and vulnerable, not born in a palace or temple, but in a borrowed stable and a manger. Instead of calling down the power of heaven, he walked quietly and humbly to a cross. Make no mistake, when we feel most vulnerable and powerless, our God is the strongest. It was when Christ was at his own most weak and vulnerable state, praying in the garden and upon the cross, that the light of hope was able to work in the most miraculous way.

            John 1 tells us, “The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”  Jesus didn’t necessarily come to lead a political revolution, to conquer Rome, or to become the new Herod. Jesus came to save people from a dead faith which was powerless to help them find a relationship with God and believe in the light of hope. Too often I think we, like first century Judea, want Jesus to be the social and political power coming to fix society and elections and politics. But Jesus doesn’t live in the halls of power. Jesus lives in the soup kitchens, the rehabs, the nursing home, and the hearts of those who cry out in their weakness and struggle for the Word.

            John 1 tells us, that in faith, we become children of God, followers of Christ, and receive a Spirit which brings light, holiness, and hope in our lives. Advent is meant to be a meditative time, where we prepare our hearts and minds for the meaning of a Savior born to us. Whereas Lent teaches us to repent, Advent teaches us to think and reflect. What does it mean to follow both the human example of Jesus here on earth, and the holy example of the Risen Christ who lives and reigns with God now and forever?

            John’s introduction here wraps up with two more thoughts, simply stated, but profoundly thoughtful: God’s unfailing love and faithfulness came to us through Jesus Christ, and Jesus has revealed God to us. What does that mean to us? First is the more miraculous explanation. In some way, our faith in Christ binds us to God and we form this powerful relationship in a way none of our pre-Christ ancestors could. And this relationship brings us hope now and forever.

            But there’s a second part. We are called to more than just waiting for a heavenly hope. Jesus said, “Follow me.” I think the best example is John the Baptist. Now don’t worry. I’m not about to tell you to live in the desert eating wild honey and locusts while shouting at Pharisees. But John took it seriously both to tell of the good news that God’s love is real and powerful, and John spoke accountability to the religious leaders of that day. He was vulnerable, poor, and in many ways weak as well. He was not the palace herald the folks would have expected to see.

            We follow Christ the divine and Jesus the human when we are willing to be vulnerable, powerless, and softened to God’s word and the world around us. Remember in the story of Moses how the Pharaoh’s heart was hardened, and his hard heart left him unable to hear God, unable to care about the people’s suffering, and unwilling to do what was wright. Contrast that with the story of hymn writer Charlotte Elliot. She was sick all of her life. She was vulnerable and needed help, could never live on her own, and was beholden to the kindness of her family. Yet in her weakness, her faith became strong. She wrote the hymn, “Just As I Am.” It’s a poignant reminder that God doesn’t call us for what society thinks we should be. God calls us just as we are, for God created us and loves us.

            I have to admit I struggled with the ending of our modern lesson. I’ve always somewhat believed that our destiny is based on what we can do—work, mission, community service. But Evelyn Underhill gives us a different notion. God’s creation achieves its greatest destiny when each and every one of us find ourselves caught up into God’s redeeming purpose and living with the God who loves us.

            The hope of the world is not found in our ability to fight our way to the top, to overpower, overcome, and find the strength to defeat everything. Our hope is not in our own strength. Hope comes when we lean into those places where we are weak and vulnerable and ask God to be present there with us, for God’s strength works best in our weakness to help us, lead us, and encourage us along the way.

            So today, remember that in the beginning was the Word (or Christ), that Word was with God, and that Word was God. But that Word lives with us too each day in our weaknesses and our rough places. And in that Word of hope, that light of the world, we find our greatest strength as a people of God.

Worship Service: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/889446152421700

Thanksgiving Service 2022

Thankful, Grateful, Joyful, Amen! Psalm 100; Phil. 4: 4-9

            A good friend and I were talking about Thanksgiving traditions. His family had a rather heartwarming yearly get together every Thanksgiving. They would gather together around the table…the whole family…altogether in one big sitting and enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving meal together…of Red Lobster. To say I was puzzled by this choice is a mild understatement. I guess our coastal ancestors could have had some seafood in addition to the traditional fare I think of, and I’ve heard of oyster dressing. But when it comes to traditional Thanksgiving meal, cheddar biscuits and the Admiral’s Special Feast with a two for one on shrimp scampi is not what I imagine. Though don’t get me wrong, but for the grace of God there go I for a cheddar biscuit or 50.

            But there was a particular part of their tradition that really caught my attention, yes, more so than the creative restaurant choice. The head of the table says, “Thankful!” and they all repeat, “Thankful!” Then they talk about why they are thankful this past year. Then the word “Grateful!” is repeated in this call and response with discussion about why all assembled are grateful. Then finally, after the meal is done, they finish with the word “Joyful” all spoken together. They share dessert and talk about what is joyful in their lives. The dinner is concluded with the old, familiar, “Amen.” Thankful, grateful, joyful, amen. So, let’s try repeating each one in the same way together…thankful//grateful//joyful.

            What are we thankful for? Now thankful and grateful are a bit interchangeable, but let’s go with the definition of thankful which says it’s a hopeful relief. Philippians 4:6 tells us, “Don’t worry about anything; instead pray about everything.” The result is God’s peace. I think we can be thankful this season for a God that lets us cast our cares and concerns on the mighty strength and wisdom that God provides. We can be thankful for, or find this sense of relief, in the knowledge that when we go to God, we go to the Prince of Peace.

            In a troubled and difficult world, that has to be important to us. We live in a time of high costs, an undercurrent of worry, and an ever-changing landscape of life. Nations rattle the sabers of war, and life sometimes seems to move faster than we can keep up with. As the hymn says, “Hold to God’s unchanging hand.” We need the surety of a God whose promises and hope dos not change or abandon us in this life. Life changes, but God’s power to guide us through does not, and for that, we can give thanks to God.

            What are we grateful for? To contrast with thankful, let’s define grateful as showing appreciating for something. Philippians 4:9 says, “Keep putting into practice all you learned and received from me—everything you heard from me and saw me doing. Then the God of peace will be with you.” When we are grateful, it should spur us to act. If someone is grateful for the blessings of life, that gratefulness should encourage them to share the blessings and bring hope to others. Paul was grateful for all that Christ had done, and so he dedicated every gift and skill to the glory of Christ. He encourages others to do the same. Follow my lead, he tells them. Put your faith and your gratefulness into practice.

            Being thankful should encourage us to give glory to God. Being grateful should encourage us to share the glory of God with those around us. Together these two things make a powerful testimony of our faith and hope in the God who loves and redeems us, and who gives us all the grace we need to face the ever-changing life and world around us. Thanksgiving, though, should give us all three that my friend’s family celebrated: thankful, grateful, and joyful.

            What joyful things do we celebrate in life? The Psalm tells us to “shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth!” Then we are told that “the Lord is good, [and God’s] unfailing love continues forever.” Joy can be hard to find especially in the colder, darker months of the year. I think of the joke I saw where, after the time change, the woman is running around yelling that it’s so dark, could it be midnight? The guy says, “Nope, it’s 5:00 PM.”

            Joy is not always right there. Sometimes, we have to go looking for it in the dark. But we know, in our faith, that where God is, there is joy. In those times of struggle and darkness, we can go back to those words which remind us that God is good, and that God’s love never fails, and neither does God’s faithfulness run out. Our patience fails. Our ability to handle a messy day may fail. Our kindness and gentleness may sometimes get a little sharp. But God’s love never fails, and God’s faithfulness will continue for each and every generation of life. In those reminders and promises, we can find blessings which bring us joy. We can be thankful, grateful, and even joyful for God’s blessings.

            You know, I was skeptical of my friend’s Red Lobster Thanksgiving Extravaganza. I poked a bit of fun at it. But only later did I learn that his great grandmother and family lived on the southeast coast of Georgia. They grew up with fresh seafood, rice, and other home-cooked and warmly spiced dishes made with love and care from Gullah-Geechee and Creole ancestors. His family now lives in small town Middle Tennessee, and they can no longer access fresh, coastal foods.

            But coming from a long line of family tradition they still gather together each year and honor the memories, foods, and traditions of their family and ancestors. They celebrate all that they’re thankful for, grateful for, and joyful for in life. I encourage you to take a note from their tradition. Your bulletins have a small insert with these three things: thankful, grateful, and joyful. Take a moment this Thanksgiving to write down what comes to mind and give thanks for your blessings.

            Sometimes, when dark and negative things seem to overwhelm us, we need to reorient our thoughts to God’s amazing promises and love for us. Thanksgiving is a time when we take measure and give thanks for our blessings, and when we count what makes us grateful, thankful and joyful, whether at home with the traditional fare, or whether gathered around our favorite Asian food, Mexican food, or even Thanksgiving at Red Lobster.  So, like my friend’s family, let’s join together in celebration of our blessings and say them out loud. Join with me… “Thankful!” “Grateful!” “Joyful!” … Amen.

Video: https://www.facebook.com/fccmacon/videos/1167805563822231