I have to be honest, I’m a little bit uncomfortable. I’m a little uncomfortable because this is not my pulpit, this is not my church and I’m not looking out to my people sitting in their pews. So in order to level the playing field, I hope you don’t mind if I make you a little bit uncomfortable.

Dentist. I know that just by saying that word some of you are already tensing up.

Do you remember getting that little postcard in the mail that said it’s been six years since your last visit? And you stuck it on the refrigerator so you wouldn’t forget.

And your stomach would knot a little more each day that drew nearer to that dentist visit.

Oh, I absolutely hated going to the dentist. It wasn’t just the actual time with the dentist but it was the whole process that I hated.

My appointments were always, for some reason, at 8:00 in the morning. So I would walk in the office waiting room and whisper my name to the nurse and would sit down and pick up a People magazine that was two years old.

As I pretended to read the magazine that was there the last time I came, I would look at the people sitting around me and think to myself, "I wonder how many cavities he’s got?", or "She’s definitely a root canal".

And then I would look at my watch every ten seconds and flip through the magazine. And every time the nurse came through that door carrying a chart my heart stopped. "Is it me, is it me? Oh please let it be the man with the cavities or the woman who is getting a root canal, don’t let it be me!"

And then she would announce my full name that nobody has ever called me, and I would put down the magazine and follow her down that long, cold hall.

And like a man walking down death row for the last time, I relived my sins, "I should have brushed more, I shouldn’t have drank so many soft drinks, I should have used the floss for my teeth and not as fishing line, oh if I could only do it over again, I would brush more, eat better and FLOSS!"

But it was too late. The nurse took me to the last room and pointed to the chair. I slowly made my way over, my eyes caught a glimpse of the weapons of a dentist, the fish hook, the pliers, and the drill, all on a neat napkin by the chair.

By now I had the heart of a hummingbird; beating so fast I couldn’t tell one beat from another.

The nurse came in and stuck a vacuum cleaner hose to my cheek and went in the other room to avoid the harmful rays that were going through my body.

And she began to clean and scrape, clean and scrape never forgetting to clean her instruments on my chest. And when she finished, she left without saying a word leaving me by myself as I waited for the dentist.

The dentist came in, and he’s a nice man, but he still scared me. He picked up his mirror and began to look around. He picked up those tiny x-rays and held them up to the lamp and mumbled something to himself.

He then called the nurse in and mumbling something to her and she walked out of the room and then he turned to me and smiled. "well Steve, it looks like we have a cavity". NO IT CAN’T BE, I mean, I brushed at least once a day! How can I have a cavity?

And then the reality of the situation came to me, I have a cavity, but wait a minute does that mean……and so I asked the dentist "Do, do I have to have a shot?" And he smiled that wicked smile and said, I’m afraid so.

A shot! I’ve never had a shot before! I imagined him coming back with a needle so long that he’ll have to stand in the hallway to fit it in my mouth.

I imagined intense pain and suffering. I had heard horrible stories of people who have enduring the terror of a shot from the dentist.

The dentist came back in the room with the nurse and began to look around in my mouth. He picked and prodded around and began to mumble some more to the nurse and all the while I was imagining that long needle and the agony of the shot.

After a few minutes the doctor left the room. I guess he was going to get ready for the shot, picking the right needle, with the right length and width for little ole Steve. He was preparing for battle with my cavity.

I was alone in the room with the nurse, and with my voice trembling and my hands shaking I asked her once again if he was going to give me a shot.

And she looked at me and smiled and then she said the strangest thing; "he already has".

A shot from the dentist, from all that I had heard from people and seen on television was painful and excruciating. And I was expecting such an event, so much in fact, that I wasn’t even aware that he was giving me a shot.

So many times we miss things because we are expecting something totally different.

Anticipation many times kills a beautiful reality.

Jesus was coming home. You know, there is nothing like coming home. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been gone for years, the moment we find ourselves on a familiar road that takes us to the place that we call home, there is an excitement about it.

There’s an anticipation, a joy, of seeing family and friends, of gathering around the table and reliving old stories, of being in the midst of love after being gone for so long.

It happens at Thanksgiving and Christmas when everybody comes to that one place that they each can claim as home. And the anticipation builds for weeks and we remind ourselves "I’m going home"

Jesus was going home. After being away with his disciples how he must have felt when he came upon that old familiar road that he had traveled a thousand times before.

And the anticipation of seeing his family and friends of his hometown must have put a little extra speed in his step.

And when he came into town I would imagine that there was a big meal that night. And between the breaking of bread there were many stories told back in forth, catching up from when they last saw each other.

And when the Sabbath came, everybody when to the synagogue together, his brothers and sisters and the whole family.

When they entered the synagogue the neighbors and old playmates might have hugged and kissed him on the cheek.

And when everybody found their seat in the synagogue, the same spots they’ve had for years, Jesus began to teach.

And they were offended.

Is this not Jesus? Is this not the son of Joseph? Did this man not patch our roofs and laugh with us at the table?

Did he not play with our children as a young boy and attend the synagogue with us for so long?

Is this not Jesus the carpenter, the simple man?

And he is teaching us?

Jesus was not the man they were looking for. He just didn’t fit the bill! All they had heard and read about was a prophet, a Messiah who was great and powerful and would restore peace and prosperity to the Hebrews.

For their entire lives they have been looking and praying, hoping and watching for such a Savior to come.

He will come from the clouds, some might say. No, no, he will spring from the earth, others might say. No, no, he will part the seas like Moses and come from the ocean, still others might argue.

But they could all agree that he wouldn’t come from Nazareth.

They would picture him during late night conversations, he will come in a glimmering white robe! No, no you’ve got it wrong, he is a warrior, and he’ll wear the armor of a soldier!

But they could all agree that he wouldn’t wear a simple tunic and worn sandals.

The Son of God will save us! But definitely not the son of Joseph.

They had worked up the coming of the Messiah so much, they had closed their ears, eyes, and hearts to everything but that which they had imagined.

And when the answer to their prayer came, they missed it! When their Savior came to town, they ran him out! When knowledge and wisdom spoke, they ignored it because they recognized the voice!

Their anticipation had killed a beautiful reality, that God made flesh was among them! That the answer to the prayers of their grandfathers and great great grandfathers had been answered!

The Christ was with them! But they missed it.

I had a friend call me a few months ago and she was complaining about her spiritual life. Oh church was boring and the preacher was longwinded and stale, and she just wasn’t getting anything out of church anymore so she quit going.

I can understand that, I said. In fact I’ve felt the same way and have done the same thing before. I used to swear that God was in every single church but mine.

It was God’s house, but he must have been on vacation, because I sure didn't see him there!

And not only did it seem that God was absent from church, but he wasn’t very active in the community and the world.

Oh sure, somebody would get well every now and then, but for the most part, nothing good, nothing beautiful ever happened.

And then I asked my friend who was disgruntled with church, "what do expect to happen when you go to church?

Is your anticipation killing a beautiful reality?"

Are we basing our encounter with God on what we see in the movies and hear from other people?

Are we closing our ears, eyes, and hearts to everything but flashes of light and earthquakes in terms of an experience with God?

No wonder we view the world as cold and evil. No wonder we can’t find God in worship, prayer, or study. No wonder we can’t see God in our homes and towns, because we’ve limited an encounter with God to nothing less than fireworks.

Has our anticipation killed the beautiful reality of God?

Has our anticipation killed the beautiful reality of God’s presence in our worship in our hymns, prayers, and communion?

Has our anticipation killed the beautiful reality of God’s love for everyone?

Have we ignored the butterflies because we are looking for a spiritual waterfall?

Have we ignored the gentle touch of a raindrop because we are expecting a flood?

Are we deaf to the songs of angels because we are listening for the roar of thunder?

Is our anticipation killing a beautiful reality?

The reality that God is with us, even to the end of the age.

The reality that God brings us peace, even though it may be only one day at a time.

The reality that God brings us joy.

The reality that God brings hope, even though it may come from a thought or finding our lost keys.

The reality that God brings freedom, even though we still serve.

The reality that God speaks to us; although it may come in silence.

The reality that God brings life, here and everlasting, even though it may come wearing a tunic and worn sandals.

Have we missed it?

Our God is with us, now and until the end of the age.

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.