"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth." This was the core of our belief as Christians. Today we move to the second great claim of the Apostle’s creed: "And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried."

As the creed makes clear, it isn’t just believing in Jesus, Jews, Muslims, and even agnostics, acknowledge that Jesus walked the face of the earth, it is what we believe about Jesus that sets us apart, and identifies us as Christians. First, we believe that Jesus is the Son of God. Being God’s son means Jesus is God incarnate, God in human form, divine. To believe that Jesus is God’s son is to believe that he is both fully human and fully divine. Hence we believe in the conception by the Holy Spirit and the virgin birth. Now I know there are those who think that the virgin birth is not really all that important, that it’s just a myth and we don’t really need to believe it. They remind us that in the mythologies of Jesus’ day, it was not at all uncommon for gods to come to earth, and the virgin birth was simply the Bible’s way of "Christianizing" the story. Well those folks are simply wrong. Without the virgin birth Jesus is just another human being. The virgin birth establishes that Jesus is not only divine, but is without original sin, that spiritual genetic defect that separates us from God. To believe in the spiritual conception and virgin birth is to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, the Holy One, the Messiah. It is the virgin birth that makes Jesus who he is, the Christ.

The Creed goes on to say that Jesus "suffered under Pontious Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried. The trial before Pilate is not only reported in all four gospels, but also by the secular historian of the day, Josephus. After the Jews condemned Jesus in their own court, they brought him before Pilate, who, unlike their courts, had the power to condemn Jesus to death. Pilate was not popular among the Jews; he had certainly given them ample reason to despise him. He had begun his term in office by marching the forbidden and detested Roman standards into the Holy city. It was Pilate who not only hung golden shieldswith the names of Roman gods inscribed on them in the temple, but confiscated soe ofthe temple tax to build an acqueduct. It was before this man that Jesus was brought to be sentenced to death. When Pilate confounded their plans, stating: [14]"You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and have found no basis for your charges against him. [15] Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us; as you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death. [16] Therefore, I will punish him and then release him. " the Jewish leaders responded by turning the crowd against him. The more Pilate tried to free Jesus, the louder the crowd cried: "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

Knowing that the people hated him, it is not hard to understand Plate’s fear of the crowd. To prevent an uprising, a riot, Pilate gives in and surrenders Jesus to their will.

MK 15:25 It was the third hour when they crucified him. [26] The written notice of the charge against him read: THE KING OF THE JEWS. [27] They crucified two robbers with him, one on his right and one on his left. [29] Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, "So! You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, [30] come down from the cross and save yourself!"

MK 15:31 In the same way the chief priests and the teachers of the law mocked him among themselves. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! [32] Let this Christ, this King of Israel, come down now from the cross, that we may see and believe." Those crucified with him also heaped insults on him. MK 15:33 At the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. [34] And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"--which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

MK 15:35 When some of those standing near heard this, they said, "Listen, he's calling Elijah." MK 15:36 One man ran, filled a sponge with wine vinegar, put it on a stick, and offered it to Jesus to drink. "Now leave him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to take him down," he said.

MK 15:37 With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.

Jesus was dead. Not asleep, no in a trance, not in a coma, but dead, stone cold dead. Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the Jewish council, went to Pilate and asked for the body. Normally the bodies of those crucified were left hanging as a deterrant to others. But in this case, because Jesus didn’t really deserve to die, and because it was the Day of Preparation, the day before the Sabbath, Pilate, after erifying with the Centurion in charge of the execution that Jesus was already dead, consented to the burial. Being a cautious man, however, Matthew reports that Pilate had the tomb guarded and secured.

Unlike Paul, who unhesitatingly preached "Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles," this has always been the hardest part of the story for me. Like Pilate, I do not see any reason for Jesus’ death. Under the law of Moses, sin demanded a blood sacrifice, but Jesus had no sin. Unlike you and I, he was conceived, born, and lived without sin. Because he was without sin, without blemish, he became the final atoning sacrifice. His blood fulfilled the demands of the law, so that you and I can have forgiveness and salvation. The writer of Hebrews tells us: "Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people;".

Ronald Reagan sums it up for us:" Meaning no disrespect to the religious convictions of others, I still can't help wondering how we can explain away what to me is the greatest miracle of all and which is recorded in history. No one denies there was such a man, that he lived and that he was put to death by crucifixion. ..

A young man whose father is a carpenter grows up working in his father's shop. One day he puts down his tools and walks out of his father's shop. He starts preaching on street corners and in the nearby countryside, walking from place to place, preaching all the while, even though he is not an ordained minister. He does this for three years. Then he is arrested, tried and convicted. There is no court of appeal, so he is executed at age 33 along with two common thieves. Those in charge of his execution roll dice to see who gets his clothing -- the only possessions he has. His family cannot afford a burial place for him so he is interred in a borrowed tomb. End of story? No, this uneducated, propertyless young man who...left no written word has, for 2000 years, had a greater effect on the world than all the rulers, kings, emperors; all the conquerors, generals and admirals, all the scholars, scientists and philosophers who have ever lived -- all of them put together. How do we explain that?...unless he really was who he said he was."

"I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead and buried." Because I believe that Christ was crucified, dead, and buried, I am opened to receive the promise of salvation and eternal life. The death of Jesus opens us to life with God.

How about you? Do you want salvation? Do you want life with God? Do you believe in Jesus? Now is your chance, here is the place. If you are ready to accept Jesus as your Lord, your Savior, I invite you to come forward. Come, as we rise and sing together no. 297, "Beneath the Cross of Jesus." Come and believe, come and profess, come and claim God’s promises for your own. Come, the crucified Christ is waiting.

AMEN.

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An unknown writer tells the story:

I could hardly believe my eyes. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out to take a closer look. No. I wasn't seeing things. It was real.

It was the Advent season. To celebrate that season most of us put lights up inside our house and outside. But I had never seen lights here before.

You see, there's a graveyard in a field close to where my wife's parents live. Some of their ancestors are buried there and some of the graves pre-date the War Between the States. But many years ago someone planted evergreen trees all around that graveyard. I had been in this cemetery several times. I remembered how lovely the trees were and the pleasantness of their fresh smell. They filled the air that night with that sweet scent of evergreen.

But that night, there was something new and wonderful about that place. Someone had come out and put up beautiful white lights all over those trees. That place of death was circled and illuminated by Christmas lights!

I remember saying out loud, "What a strange place for Christmas lights." But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me. And Christmas began to take on a whole new meaning.

I think I understand what the person who put up those lights was trying to say. Christmas means that light has come into every part this dark world, even into the darkness of death. Christmas changes everything! In the Christ Child light and life are given that darkness and death cannot take away!

Usually we think of this theme at Easter. But without Christmas, there would be no Easter! That's what the Christmas lights on the cemetery trees proclaimed to me. "What a strange place for Christmas lights." No. Not at all.

[Ex. 13:2] "Consecrate to me every firstborn male. The first offspring of every womb among the Israelites belongs to me, whether man or animal."

“These are the regulations for the woman who gives birth to a boy or a girl. [8] If she cannot afford a lamb, she is to bring two doves or two young pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering. In this way the priest will make atonement for her, and she will be clean.' " [Lev. 12:7b-8]

It was what the law required. No more, no less. This child, born to Mary, guarded by angels, announced by shepherds, and visited by Magi, was to receive no dispensation, no special treatment. Like all first born, he was to be redeemed: redeemed so he could redeem others.

As the offerings were made, a stranger approached the young parents. His name was Simeon, and we know very little about him. We do know he LK 2:25 was righteous and devout. (And that) He was waiting for the consolation of Israel" The Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. As soon as Simeon took the child in his arms, he knew. He knew that the promise had been fulfilled, that this child in his arms was the Messiah, the promised one. After thanking God for the fulfilment of the promise, the old man blessed the child and spoke a chilling prophecy: [Luke 2:34] "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, [35] so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too." A prophecy that would come all too true.

I wonder if Mary remembered those words when the scribes and Pharisees accused her son of being in league with Beelzebub, Satan. I wonder if Mary remembered those words the day she stood in a crowd and called out to him, only to hear renounce her with the words: [MK 3:33] "Who are my mother and my brothers?"

To say that Mary’s soul would be pierced was, perhaps, an understatement. Yet what parent here has not had their own soul pierced? Perhaps you have. like the Prodigal Father, waited, prayerfully, day after day, for the return of your wayward child.

An unknown mother writes: When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do you stop worrying?" The nurse said, "When they get out of the accident stage." My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't worry. They all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother listened and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry in a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults."

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother's wan smile and her occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the minute you get home. Are you depressed about something?"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? A lifetime of having our souls pierced?

The life and death of Jesus certainly pierced Mary’s soul. Certainly this didn’t seem like what the angel Gabriel promised: that "He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, [33] and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end." Yet nothing about Jesus, nothing about Christmas, is quite what it seems. The expectation of a great king is answered with a peasant baby, born in a barn. The expectation of a great military leader is met with a child who grows into a man of peace, a man who counsels: [39] But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. [40] And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. [41] If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. The expectation of a savior was met with a cross.

For Mary, Simeon’s prophecy of what was to come was just the beginning. For us, Christmas, and the new year that follows, mark another beginning: another opportunity to claim the Savior as our own; another chance to draw near to the God who loves us and claims us; another chance at discipleship. As Howard Thurmond puts it:

When the song of the angels is silent
When the star in the sky is gone
When the kings and princes are home
When the shepherds are again tending their sheep
When the manger is darkened and still
The work of Christmas begins --
To find the lost
To heal the broken
To feed the hungry
To rebuild the nations
To bring peace among people
To befriend the lonely
To release the prisoner
To make music in the heart.

It will surely pierce our souls, but the presence of the Christmas child, in whose name we act, brings light to the dankness of our world. As you begin the work of Christmas, may that light shine upon you, bringing healing, wholeness, and peace. Merry Christmas.

AMEN.

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Harriet Richie wrote that after wonderful, candlelit late night Christmas Eve service, her husband announced that he was hungry for breakfast. "There must be some place open". So the whole family piled in the car and headed out to the interstate junction and the truck stop that they knew would even be open on Christmas Eve. A few big diesels rumbled outside at the far end of the parking lot. Inside a few trucker types sat at the counter eating and drinking, a jukebox was playing some country and western song. On the big window were a few multicolored blinking lights, giving a faint Christmassy spirit to the place. It smelled like bacon grease and stale cigarette smoke. A one-armed man stood behind the counter drinking a Pepsi.

The family squeezed into a booth, because they wanted to sit near the lights. A thin waitress named Rita sauntered over. She looked like you'd expect any waitress to look like who was unlucky enough to draw the late shift on Christmas Eve. She managed a weary smile and handed out the menus like a poker hand.

Harriet says she looked around, feeling a bit snobbish and out of place. She, after all, had a family who had all just come from the Christmas Eve service, and would end up in their lovely home for the night. There was a fleeting thought that years from now she might say with a laugh, "Remember that Christmas we ate breakfast in that awful truck stop with the country music and tacky lights?" They would all snicker.

She was staring out the window when an old Volkswagen van with Texas plates drove up. This was some years ago, a bearded young man in jeans got out. He walked around and opened the door for a young woman who was holding a baby. They hurried inside, protecting the baby from the cold with her poncho, and took a booth nearby.

Someone asked where they were headed, but Harriet couldn't hear the answers. She wondered, "Were their grandparents anxiously waiting to see their new grandchild for the first time?" Somehow she didn't think so.

When Rita took their order the baby began to cry. The father shifted the baby around, tried him on his shoulder, but nothing seemed to help. The mother tried rocking the baby in her arms. Nothing worked. The baby was just plain hungry. The mother picked up the diaper bag and started to leave, holding the baby against her neck as if to stifle the noise of his crying.

A baby crying in a place where crying babies aren’t welcome. Not an unusual occurrence, one almost any mother here has experienced. But what if it’s not just the crying, but the baby, the parents, the entire family, who is unwelcome? That must have been the way Joseph felt some two thousand years ago as he threaded his way through the streets of Bethlehem, looking for a place to stay.

One thing that has always bugged me about the Christmas story is why Joseph and Mary didn’t have a place to stay. It’s not like this was a sudden trip. The decree would have gone out months ago, and everyone would have known where and when they had to go. Surely, since this was the home town of Joseph’s clan, he would have family he could call on. When Fay and I travel, if we can, we call ahead to friends and relatives to arrange a place to stay. Are we really that much smarter than Joseph? I don’t think so. I think the reason Joseph didn’t have a place to stay is because his family wouldn’t have him.

Joseph and Mary lived in a culture where premarital pregnancy was cause for stoning. For a young girl to be found pregnant before her wedding day brought shame not only on her, but on her entire family; and for a young man to stay with such a girl brought that shame on himself and his family. The scandal of Mary’s pregnancy, and Joseph’s refusal to separate himself from her, would have made its way to family and friends in Bethlehem. In spite of the requirement to offer hospitality, they were unwilling to be associated with Joseph’s shame. Conveniently they found themselves without hospitality to offer. Then, as now, no one wanted the Baby Jesus.

And so they wandered. From one inn to the next, desperately seeking a place to rest, a place for Mary to give birth. Finally, an innkeeper who either hadn’t heard the story, or simply could not put them completely out, offered them a place. It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t even an air bed in the family room, but it was warm, dry, and quiet. It was a small, insignificant place, but it is in small, insignificant places and lives that God performs miracles.

All God needs for the miracle of the incarnation is a small corner of a barn. All God needs for the miracle of salvation to take root in you or me, is a small corner of our heart. Just as the baby Jesus, born in that barn grew to be the savior of all humankind, the Jesus who takes root in a small corner of your heart grows to walk with you, and be with you, in and through all things. Jesus didn’t need a castle 2000 years ago, and, as Harriet discovered, he doesn’t need one today. Back to her story.

Rita, the waitress, reached over and held out her arms. "Sit down and drink your coffee, hon, let me see what I can do." There was something about the way Rita took the baby in her arms that made you think that she had probably raised a half dozen of her own. She began talking and walking round the place. Rita showed the baby to a man sitting at the counter who wore a battered baseball cap, cowboy boots, and leather wallet on a chain, an authentic over-the-road trucker. He made the appropriate silly faces and high-pitched noises to the baby. Then she showed the baby the blinking Christmas lights and the gaudy colors on the jukebox. She brought him over to Harriet and her family and said, "Just look at this little darlin will ya? Mine's all big and grown."

The one-armed man took the pot of coffee and started to wait on the tables. As he finished refilling their mugs, Harriet writes, she realized there were tears in her eyes. Her husband wanted to know what was wrong.

"Nothing, just Christmas" she told him, and reached into her purse for a Kleenex and a quarter. "Go see if you can find a Christmas song on the jukebox", she told the children.

When they were gone, she looked at her husband and said, "He'd come here, wouldn't he?"

"Who?"

"Jesus. If Jesus were born in this town tonight and the choices were our neighborhood or this truck stop, it would be here, wouldn't it?"

Her husband didn't answer right away but he looked around the place, looked at the people. "Yep" he said, "Either here or at the homeless shelter."

Harriet says she thought for a while, "That's what bothers me. When we first got here I felt sorry for all these people because they didn't have houses to go home to like we do, with wreaths and candles and Christmas trees. Listening to that awful music, I thought, I bet none of these people ever even heard of Handel's Messiah. But now I think that more than any other place I've been, this is where Christmas is, and I'm not sure I belong."

As they walked to the car her husband bent close to her ear and said, "Remember, the angels did say 'I bring you good news of great joy to all people."

What do we do with the baby? Do we send him to the next place, or do we open our hearts, our arms, our lives, and let the miracle begin? Have a joyful Christmas. Amen.

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He caused quite a stir among the shoppers. Many dismissed him as an annoying nut; some found him an eccentric "hoot." He was dressed in a tattered flannel shirt and jeans. No one knew where he spent the night, but he was seen rummaging around the dumpsters for scraps of food from Orange Julius and McDonald’s.

Every day he could be found by the beautifully lighted fountain near the mall's food court. Despite his ragged appearance and that slightly "off" look in his eyes, there was a kindness and sincerity about him that drew people to him.

He would ask them why they would spend so much money for Christmas, why they would allow themselves to become so obsessed and stressed out over this tinseled holiday. "We like our Christmas with a lot of sugar, don't we?" he would tease. But Christmas is about hope and love, he said .and that can be a struggle. Give gifts of kindness and compassion to each other. Seek forgiveness and reconciliation from family and friends who may be lost to you. Let the spirit of the Christ Child embrace every season of the year not just December.

Those who listened would nod in agreement as he spoke .even as they tightened their grips on their shopping bags. Some were moved to quit shopping and go home to be with their families, others would go off and buy an extra toy or piece of clothing for charity; a few would even be moved to escape to a church or chapel for quiet prayer.

Sometimes he would rail against the insipid music and the gaudy decorations. When the mall Santa would walk by, he would make fun of him, asking the embarrassed Santa pointed questions about the real Christmas story.

Soon, though, the store owners had had enough of his distractions. The mall managers had security escort him from the premises. He wasn't really hurting anyone, they realized. But he had to go, they said. He was ruining everyone's Christmas.

From autos to video games, from clothing to calories, this is the time of the year when our society indulges in an orgacquisitionsiton. It is as though we are trying to fill a hole in the bottom of our sole with the giving and receiving of stuff. There is a false, but powerful conviction that the more stuff we give or get, the more we love or are loved.

You may remember the commercial that appeared on TV some years ago. They were advertising stuff to store stuff in. This family is surrounded by a flood of their belongings, and they cry out, "what can we do with all this stuff?" They march off the mall where they purchase the stuff to keep stuff in, and put their stuff in it. All of a sudden their house is neat and tidy, and they cry out: "We need to get more stuff!"

From the world’s point of view, it was a family who had it made. They had it all. From motor home, home and boat in the driveway to the $200,000 house, they had everything a family want. Everything, that is, but joy.

Last Sunday evening I did a ride along with the Salem Police Department, and we responded to a domestic disturbance call at that home. In spite of all the things the world had provided them, the husband and wife were more adversaries than partners, the children, an added stress. He more of the so-called good life they had acquired, the more apart they had grown, until, tonight, it had come to blows.

What this family was learning the hard way was that, while the things of the world might bring short-term happiness, they cannot bring joy. As they sought to fill the empty place in the bottom of their souls with stuff, they came to realize that stuff only compels us to acquire more stuff. And all the stuff in the world cannot bring true happiness, all the stuff in the world cannot bring joy.

Unlike happiness, which comes from outside ourselves, Joy, the joy Paul calls us to express, can only come from within. Joy, we learn in Galatians 5:22, is a fruit of the Spirit. That is, true joy results from our giving our lives over to Jesus, and walking with Him in the light and presence of the Holy Spirit.

When we live in the Spirit, we understand Paul’s mandate to "Rejoice always. When we live in the Spirit, rejoicing and joy are a natural part of our being. We are joyful, even in the face of affliction and hardship because, deep down inside, the space in the bottom of our soul that was once empty, is now filled: not with things, but with the sure and certain knowledge that we are loved, accepted, and desired by God.

This is the promise proclaimed by John’s voice crying in the wilderness. The one who would come after him, the one whose shoes he was unfit to tie, JN 1:15 He cries out, saying, "This was he of whom I said, `He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.' " [16] From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another."

It is these blessings that bring us joy. It is in these blessings that Paul writes to the Philippians, and to us: Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" Be calm, Let your gentleness be evident to all. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. And it is Christ Jesus, the one who is the reason for the fuss, the one whose birth we celebrate, who is the source and reason for our joy. Rejoice and make him welcome! AMEN.

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Let me be perfectly clear, my son-in-law, Chris, is one of the finest young men I have ever known. He loves our daughter and our grandchildren deeply, and takes good care of them. I love him as a son. But he does have one character flaw. He is a turkey hunter.

I don’t know how much you may know about turkey hunting. But when Chris goes hunting he gets up at “O-way too dark-thirty” and heads for the woods. He settles into his blind and sits...and sits...and sits. Waiting, not moving, not humming or singing, not even talking to himself, just sitting and waiting, sometimes for hours, just for a three second chance to shoot a turkey. Sometimes he waits for hours and doesn’t even see a turkey!

Me, I don’t think I’d like turkey hunting. I’m not very good at sitting and waiting. When I was a hunter, I hunted pheasant. Pheasant hunters don’t sit and wait, they walk up and down the corn rows and through the ditches. Pheasant hunters don’t have to be silent, indeed, noise is a good thing, for what a pheasant hunter wants to do is scare the bird into flight for a three second chance to get off a shot.

The truth is that like turkey hunters, pheasant hunters are also waiting. The difference is in what they do while they wait. Both John the Baptizer and Peter are waiting for Christ. John announces and awaits the coming of the Messiah while Peter awaits his return. Both assure us he is coming, and both tell us how to live as we wait.

John the Baptizer would have been a pheasant hunter. He urged the people to wait actively. When the crowd asked John how they should go about waiting, he told them: “The man with two tunics should share with him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same." To the tax collectors he said: LK 3:13 "Don't collect any more than you are required to." And to the soldiers he said: "Don't extort money and don't accuse people falsely--be content with your pay."

In the same way, Peter calls us to actively work for the kingdom as we await the return of the King. He urges us “to live holy and godly lives [12] as we look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. To speed the coming of the kingdom is more than simply staying out of trouble. The call to speed the coming of the kingdom is a call to prayer and action. John Bunyan reminds us “You can do more than pray, after you have prayed, but you cannot do more than pray until you have prayed.” Or, as an unknown poet has written:

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end war;
For we know that You have made the world in a way
That man must find his own path to peace
Within himself and with his neighbor.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end starvation;
For you have given us the resources
With which to feed the entire world
If we would only use them wisely.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to root out prejudice,
For You have already given us eyes
With which to see the good in all men
If we would only use them rightly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end despair,
For You have already given us the power
To clear away slums and to give hope
If we would only use our power justly.

We cannot merely pray to You, O God, to end disease,
For you have already given us great minds with which
To search out cures and healing,
If we would only use them constructively.

Therefore we pray to You instead, O God,
For strength, determination, and willpower,
To do, instead of just to pray,
To become, instead of merely to wish.”

Active waiting takes our prayers and turns them into action. Active waiting turns our prayers for the hungry into food boxes and our prayers for the oppressed into political pressure to bring about liberty. Active waiting turns our prayers for the homeless into soup kitchens, shelters, job training and counseling. Active waiting turns our prayers for the sick and lonely into visits and invitations. Active waiting turns our prayers for peace into acts of mercy and justice that span regional and national borders. Active waiting transforms individuals, congregations, and the church into doers of the word, and not hearers only, and it is in the doing f the word that we, individually and as the church, speed the coming we pray for when we say: “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Rev. Dan Rondeau invites us:
Come with me into West Texas during the Depression. Mr. Ira Yates was like many other ranchers and farmers. He had a lot of land, and a lot of debt. Mr. Yates wasn’t able to make enough on his ranching operation to pay the principal and interest on the mortgage, so he was in danger of losing his ranch. With little money for clothes or food, his family (like many others) had to live on a government subsidy Day after day, as he grazed his sheep over those rolling West Texas hills, he was no doubt greatly troubled about how he would pay his bills. Then a seismographic crew from an oil company came into the area and told him there might be oil on his land. They asked permission to drill a wildcat well, and he signed a lease contract. At 1,115 feet they struck a huge oil reserve. The first well came in at 80,000 barrels a day. Many subsequent wells were more than twice as large. In fact, 30 years after the discovery, a government test of one of the wells showed it still had the potential flow of 125,000 barrels of oil a day. And Mr. Yates owned it all. The day he purchased the land he had received the oil and mineral rights. Yet, he’d been living on relief. A multimillionaire living in poverty. The problem? He didn’t know the oil was there even though he owned it.

It is fair to say that you and I are a lot like Mr. Yates at times. We are heirs of a vast treasure and yet we live in spiritual poverty. We are entitled to the gifts of the Holy Spirit and his energizing power, and yet we live unaware of our birthright.

Today we have the opportunity to claim our birthright, to bring forth the kingdom we pray for, to become not just a congregation, but part and parcel of the body of Christ. Redeemed by his blood, we are called by the spirit into active waiting for his return; active waiting that manifests itself in turning our prayers into action; active waiting that manifests itself in ministry to all the world; active waiting that manifests itself in the kingdom coming, on earth as it is in heaven.

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Fay is busy decorating and cleaning for the UMW’s annual visit next (M-Sunday, C-Thursday.) Like most of you, when we expect company, we take the time to prepare for them, we want to honor them with our very best. On the other hand, if you just drop in at the parsonage, and you are certainly invited to do so, you may not find things quite as organized. Fay may have the table covered with the paperwork for paying the bills, or I may have my fly-tying gear set up on the counter. The bag with my gym clothes may be next to the door, the carpet may be unvaccumed, and I probably won’t have a coat and tie on. It’s not that we aren’t honored by your visit, but when no one is specifcally expected, well, life just goes on.

Too ofen life just goes on for the followers of Jesus. Although you and I, are instructed to to expect his return, life spends a lot of time getting in our way. He tells us he doesn’t know when he will come, then gives us signs, indications that will tell us the time He is coming is near: it’s not a pretty list. There will be a time of distress and a time of darkness, a time when the sun and the moon cease to shine, and the stars fall from the skies. So frightening were these images that the early church, the church of Mark’s time, lived in nervous anticipation. Harry Potter fans might liken it to the way in which Harry and his friends awaited the return of Voldemort, only for us, the times that mark the end, mark the beginning. What the world sees as the end of time, we see as the beginning of a new age, an age when all creation will be reconciled to God, the one who created and loves us.

As the years since Voldemort’s dissappearance grew, there were those who doubted his return, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore among them. In the meantime others spent their time trying to tell when he would come back. In the same way, as the years since the ascension have increased, the sense of anxiousness in the church has decreased. Although, from time to time cults have arisen, claiming the imminence of the return. In the 1830's, a small sect built their churches without roofs, so that they wouldn’t be hurt as they were raptured. In the early days of the Jehovah’s Witness movement, several different prophesied rapture dates passed without the world ending. More recently, the Branch Davidians awaited the end in their Waco compound, as do many small splinter groups to this day.

Prophesying the end is big business. The time, money, paper, and web space spent trying to determine when Jesus will come back would clothe, house, feed and free a goodly number of the poor, the oppressed, and the powerless. Wouldn’t that be a better way to watch for Christ, obeying his final command to feed his sheep and tend his lambs. After all, MK 13:32 "No one knows about that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. [33] Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come.”

If Jesus doesn’t know, how can we. Our job is not to predict, but to watch for his return.

My colleague Bass Mitchell tells this Parable of the Boss & the Warehouse Workers.Once there was a man who owned a warehouse and trucking business. He was a wealthy man with many employees. He could be a stern boss. He expected everyone to do their job as best they could. He tolerated no slackers.

But he was also a kind man. Each year he volunteered his services at Christmas to receive non-perishable food items from anyone who wished to give them. His employees kept records of what was given, of needy families who needed them, packed up and even delivered the food, all at no charge to anyone.

One day he came over the loudspeaker and announced, "I have to go out of town for a time. I don't know how long I will be. But I am counting on you to continue to do your jobs." He left.

For a time everything went as usual. But as the days became weeks, the weeks months, things changed. The persons in the office began a contest to see who among them could name the day when the boss would return. The winner would get the money which you had to pay in order to make a guess. Daily tallies were announced over the intercom.

Many others began sitting around talking about why the boss was away so long and wondering when he would get back or if he would return at all. Others went through the papers and letters in his office, combing for days and weeks over everything for clues when he might return. They printed newsletters and pamphlets giving their ideas and presenting evidence for when they thought he would return. One gave a daily lecture over the intercom about the latest "Boss Watch" findings. One booklet even had a pull out chart that claimed to know exactly where the boss had gone, every place he would visit before returning, and even the exact day and hour when he would get back. Most everyone bought a copy and it even was doing well outside the warehouse as people in the city were beginning to wonder about the return of the boss, too. Rumors were that Hollywood might even make a movie out of it or maybe a mini-series. Many others wrote their own books but each one was very different than the other, and often they engaged in heated debates about who was right.

The result was that many people were afraid, confused, and distracted by the endless speculations. Many stopped working altogether and stood looking out the windows for the return of the boss. And all the while the food items were piling higher and higher.

But there were a few who paid no attention to the endless speculations. All they remembered was the last words of the boss, "I am counting on you to do your jobs." So they did their jobs and the jobs of everyone else. They worked in the office. They packed the food. They kept delivering it, though there was always more work than they could do as they were so few. But they were not afraid. They, too, wondered sometimes at the delay of the boss, but they were just too busy to worry very much about it. The boss said that he would return and was counting on them to do their jobs. That was all that mattered to them.

“Tell me,” asks my colleague, “when the boss does return, who do you think will be truly ready for him? With whom do you think he will be most pleased? If you worked there, with what group of workers would you be found?”

In the meantime, as we wait and work, Christ has provided for us. He has given us both the Holy Spirit, and this sacramental meal, a meal that draws us together, strengthens our ties to Him, and nourishes us for the watch. Come, the table is prepared. Come prepare yourself for the watch. Come, eat, drink, and be ready! AMEN.

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I’m not sure why, but Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. I know it’s NOT because of the football or the shopping. Maybe it’s because we always get together with Chris, Dannielle, and the grandkids; Maybe it’s the Macy’s parade on TV; or maybe it’s just that I like turkey. Whatever the reason, when my family is gathered around that table piled high with food, I cannot help but be thankful.

This evening I’d like us to take a look at the origins of Thanksgiving. Not the historical origins of Governor Bradford’s proclamation, or Abraham Lincoln’s declaration of the first national day of thanks: no, I’m talking about the origins of Thanksgiving in the dynamics of a truly grateful heart. Being thankful is not a natural behavior, indeed, just the opposite is true. When things go wrong, we are quick to call on God, but not so when things go well.

We live in a land that esteems hard work and pulling yourself up by the bootstraps, success brings bragging rights. The problem is that bragging rights don’t bring thankfulness. And so we have Moses’ warning: [13] “when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, [14] then your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.” When things go well, he tells them: “You may say to yourself, ‘My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.’"

Thankfulness is not natural, it is a learned behavior. When I was a child my parents taught me to say “Thank You,” I taught my children, and, now, Dannielle is teaching Josh and Chloe. If we grow up without learning to be thankful, Thanksgiving means nothing more than turkey and football.

Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem and the cross. As he entered a small, unnamed town, he was met by ten lepers; lepers who, in accordance with he custom of the day stood a distance off and called out in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" Jesus did have pity on them, and told them to go show themselves to the priest. It was the only priest who could determine that they were free of the disease, and make the appropriate offerings. As the ten followed Jesus’ instructions and went, they were cleansed.

As I said earlier, thankfulness is a learned behavior, and apparently no one taught it to the Jewish lepers. Of the ten who were healed, only one, a Samaritan, came back and thanked Jesus. Now it can be argued that the nine would have given thanks to God when the priest, to whom the Samaritan would never have gone, declared them clean. But Luke gives us no evidence of this. Instead, he has Jesus comment on their lack of thankfulness: In LK 17:17 Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?”

Clyde Steckel, the Emeritus Professor of Theology at United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities (Not the United Theological Seminary I attended in Dayton Ohio) writes:

One might guess that these none who did not come back to give thanks were so overwhelmed by the surprise and joy of their new healed condition that they could think of nothing else but how unimaginably wonderful their lives had suddenly become. Perhaps they felt driven to find family members and friends in the old neighborhood from which they had been excluded, to reconnect and reenter their “normal” lives from which they had been exiled. What ecstasy they must have felt. How easy to forget the itinerant healer who had made them whole.

As we search this story for God’s world to us on this Thanksgiving eve, we need to be both patient with the nine, and resolute in our own commitment to nurture a spirit of thankfulness. To make the learned behavior of thankfulness a part of our very being requires us to nurture both memory and imagination. Without these, we, like the nine, risk forgetting how Jesus touched our lives and made us whole. Without memory and imagination, we might still be mired in our separation from God. Without memory and imagination, thankfulness remains a burdensome duty we learned from our elders. But when we bring memory and imagination to bear, Thanksgiving becomes both real and natural.

Why is memory so important? Isn’t the common wisdom to forget and move on? While such forgetfulness can, at first, seem to be a healing balm, it proves to be, at best, a deceptive peace. As anyone who has been through a 12 step recovery program can tell you, the frightening reminders of that past life need to be constantly confronted in the company of others on the same path. That is why support groups are such an important part of the healing process. Shared remembrances keep alive the joy and wonder of the present moment, the present health. Anyone who has been healed of a dread or fearful disease knows not only the joy of the miracle of healing, but also remembers their life before the healing.

Those who have recovered from alienation form God, who either never knew, or turned away from the love of God, needs to remember the miracle of grace, the miracle of yielding to that grace and claiming it for oneself, the miracle of the new life flowing from that grace. John Newton lived such a life. Treated cruelly throughout his life, he responded by treating others the same way. He worked aboard a slave trader, hauling chained slaves from Africa to the new world. As often as possible he was drunk. Then came the day his ship was sinking. With other crew members he manned the pumps, working as a servant to those in chains. Left with a raging fever, he remembered his mothers’ prayers for him, and called out to God for forgiveness, for healing, for life. His prayers were answered and his health restored. Later he married and entered the ministry. But he is best remembered as the writer of America’s favorite hymn, a hymn that both recalled his past and celebrated his present.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

Even those who have never alienated themselves from God have memories of those times when decisions made determined the path of the rest of their lives. Decisions such as whether to enter the military, what college to attend, what to major in, who to marry, which job to accept. The list is endless, and grows with each day. Some of the decisions made were clearly right, some were clearly wrong, others dwell in the grey. But through it all, God’s Holy Spirit was present, providing guidance, strength, courage and perseverance. The memory of those times of decision help make thankfulness mor spontaneous, more generous, more from the heart.

That’s where imagination comes to play. Perhaps the nine ungrateful lepers simply lacked the imagination to picture what their lives might still be like, unhealed, isolated and exiled. Can you imagine, even for a moment, what your life might be like under the sway of other influences and experiences? Who and where might you be today? What would your life be like? Imagine that! And give thanks!

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Like last week's story of the talents, today's parable of the sheep and goats can be far too easily segued into a proclamation of works righteousness. We read this parable and quickly conclude that the folks who get into heaven are the ones who feed, clothe, and house the poor, are kind to strangers and visit the sick and the prisoners. Hmm. (M-I brought food for the food drive) (C-I brought stuff for the women's shelter box) I gave money to feed the homeless on Thanksgiving, I gave an old jacket to the Coats for Kids drive, and last week I visited Bob Johns in the hospital. "Open those gates, Lord, I'm coming home!

The problem with seeing the parable this way is that it ignores what may well be the most important part of the story. One year my folks told me that if I wanted to go to camp, I had to earn half the money. All that year I worked and saved; and I regularly counted my money to see how close I was to my goal. Those who practice works righteousness, who want to earn their way into God's love, keep close track of their works. They know what they've done, when they did it, and for whom. That simply is not so with the sheep in this parable, the ones who fed the hungry, clothed the naked, invited in the stranger, cared for the sick, and visited the prisoner didn't even realize what they were doing. MT 25:37 "Lord," they ask, "when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?" Thousands of years before Jesus, Moses instructed the people concerning the law: [6] These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. [7] Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. [8] Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. [9] Write them on the door frames of your houses and on your gates. In short, the Injunction to love both God and neighbor was to be part and parcel of who the Israelites were. For the sheep in this parable, that's just the way it was. Their love of God and of others was so much a part of them that they couldn't separate it from the rest of their lives.

In a 1997 Our Daily Bread devotional, a parent writes:

The other day I came home from work to find a plate of peanut-butter snack bars on the kitchen counter. Accompanying the delectables was a note from my 12-year-old daughter Melissa to her grandparents. "Dear Grandma and Grandpa, I made these for you. Love, Melissa." No one told her to do this. She didn't have to. She just did it. But why? Was Melissa trying make sure that they loved her? Was she trying to win Brownie points (well, snack -bar points) with her grandparents? No she cooked up this little confectionery delight just to show her grandparents she loves them. It was evidence of their close relationship. She did it because she is their granddaughter, not to somehow earn the right to be their granddaughter.

That's how it is with the good works we should do as followers of Jesus Christ. We don't do good works so we can win a place in heaven. Rather, our good deeds show evidence of our salvation and faith in Christ. Jesus did all the work of providing salvation. But we still have to work. Why? Not to win His favor but to show our love. It's an outpouring of a grateful heart.

In short, our good works are a response to God's love in our lives. God has blessed us with unmerited, unearned and unearnable love and salvation, we respond by doing good works. These good works, then, identify who and whose we are, they mark us as Christians, especially when we don't realize it. The renowned artist Paul Gustave Dore' lost his passport while traveling in Europe. When he came to a border crossing, he explained his predicament to one of the guards. Giving his name to the official, Dore' hoped he would be recognized and allowed to pass. The guard, however, said that many people attempted to cross the border by claiming to be persons they were not. Dore' insisted that he was the man he claimed to be. "All right," said the official, "we'll give you a test, and if you pass it we'll allow you to go through." Handing him a pencil and a sheet of paper, he told the artist to sketch several peasants standing nearby. Dore' did it so quickly and skillfully that the guard was convinced that he was indeed who he claimed to be. His work confirmed his word!

We claim to be Christians. Do our works prove it? Do our lives bear the proof that we are His?

If I had to answer that question, the answer would be "iffy" at best.

It's not that I don't want to feed the hungry, visit the sick, invite in the stranger, and all those other good things, it's just that, well, I'm human, and I tend to get in the way of the good works I would do. Paul says it better, In Romans 7:16 he writes: ". . .I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. [19] For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing." But praise God, there is grace, grace for you and for me. Amazing grace. Grace that forgives. Grace that accepts us in spite of our shortcomings.

I am reminded of a couple who had been married for 15 years. They began having more than usual disagreements. They wanted to make their marriage work and agreed on an idea the wife had. For one month they planned to drop a slip in a "Fault" box. The boxes would provide a place to let the other know about daily irritations. The wife was diligent in her efforts and approach: "leaving the jelly top off the jar," "wet towels on the shower floor," "dirty socks not in hamper," on and on until the end of the month. After dinner, at the end of the month, they exchanged boxes The husband reflected on what he had done wrong. Then the wife opened her box and began reading. They were all the same, the message: on each slip was written, "I love you!" That is God's message for you, written in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Open your eyes and read the message. Open your ears and hear the message. Open your life and live the message. It's for you. AMEN.

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This Is My Father's World

The space for this web site has been provided courtesy of the General Board of Global Ministeries, The United Methodist Church.
The content of these pages is the responsibility of Regis Peregrin, member of Carus United Methodist Church.
Please send feeback to carus_um@gbgmchurches.gbgm-umc.org
Created November 16, 2002 ; Last updated, January 20, 2003