Advent 4C

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below.

Lucas 1:39-45

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazónes sean aceptables delante de ti, Señor, fortaleza nuestra y redentor nuestro. Amén.

Una de las razones por las que contamos historias de las Escrituras es para ver dónde se conectan nuestras historias con la historia de Dios y para ver los lugares donde Dios ha estado trabajando en las historias de otros para que podamos reconocer dónde Dios está trabajando también en nuestras propias vidas.

El evangelio de hoy nos invita a una parte de la historia de María. Contada por Lucas, sigue inmediatamente a la anunciación cuando el ángel Gabriel se le apareció a María y le dijo que daría a luz al hijo de Dios y ella respondió diciendo:

“Aquí estoy, la sierva del Señor; hágase en mí según tu palabra” (Lucas 1:38 NVI). 

En el evangelio de hoy, María ha viajado a la casa de su pariente mayor Elizabeth.

Su encuentro es alegre y el Espíritu Santo le revela a Elizabeth la identidad del bebé que María está esperando. Elizabeth clama con una bendición para María y María estalla en una canción.

Antes de hablar más sobre su canción, el Magnificante, me pregunto sobre la historia de María hasta este punto.

Algunos de nuestros himnos y villancicos describen a María como “humilde y dulce” y se la pinta en los retratos renacentistas de la Virgen y el Niño como serena y pacífica, contemplando al niño en sus brazos. La música y las imágenes reflejan su aceptación pacífica y humilde de su lugar en esta historia que escuchamos en su respuesta al ángel.

En otras partes, cuando se cuenta su historia, el enfoque se centra en lo afortunada que fue de que José permaneciera con ella, enfatizando la vergüenza que puede recaer sobre una madre soltera.

Es posible que la vergüenza la haya llevado a viajar a la casa de su pariente y aún más probable que, a pesar de su respuesta confiada a Gabriel, María estuviera llena de incertidumbre e incluso miedo. Se habría preguntado cómo José o sus padres entenderían y temio  castigo e incluso ser apedreada por una acusación de adulterio.

Su historia nos enseña que la fe tiene espacio tanto para la confianza en Dios como para la aprensión ante lo desconocido.

Pero me pregunto, ¿qué otras historias podríamos imaginar para María?

María y Elizabeth comparten con entusiasmo la noticia de su embarazo y su asombro por lo que Dios ha prometido. No hay rastro de consternación ni inter-cambio de cumplidos super-ficiales, sino una alegría profunda y genuina. María tiene esperanza y está esperando, confía en lo que Dios ya ha hecho. Su canción hace eco a la de Hanah y los salmistas, recurriendo a la tradición y las Escrituras que habrían estado escritas en su corazón.

Al escuchar las palabras de su hermosa canción de resistencia y redención, un colega imaginó a María como “joven, luchadora y hambrienta”, como Hamilton en la canción “Mi oportunidad” del musical del mismo nombre. Aunque era solo una joven de entre doce y dieciseis años, María parecía ver con claridad y hablar con sabiduría.

Nombró las formas en que Dios ya ha cuidado de los humildes, hambrientos y pobres, recordando los actos poderosos de Dios conocidos en las Escrituras.

María entendió que Dios estaba cumpliendo las promesas de Dios a su pueblo en el niño que llevaba en su vientre. María creía que la misericordia y la salvación de Dios estaban encarnadas, hechas carne, en su hijo.

Por supuesto, la historia habría resultado muy diferente si ella hubiera dicho “No” cuando Gabriel le habló. Dios nos diseña con libre albedrío; seguramente, María podría haber huido y haberse escondido de los mensajeros de Dios. Pero no lo hizo.

Ella coopera con Dios, participando en lo que Dios le pide que haga, y nos da este cántico, donde declara lo que sabe, hablando de las acciones de Dios en el pasado y reclamando la promesa de Dios para el futuro.

Al proclamar “mi alma engrandece al Señor y mi espíritu se regocija en Dios mi Salvador”, María dirige nuestra atención a Dios y a las acciones de Dios por nosotros.

En Jesús, la salvación de Dios ya está realizada: nada nos separa del amor de Dios que nos reconcilia con Dios mismo y nos devuelve la vida. Cuando algunas partes de nuestra historia nos impiden ver por nosotros mismos cuán profundamente nos ama Dios, María nos invita a su historia y nos recuerda que lo inesperado siempre está cerca.

Oremos…

Dios Santo,

Gracias por la historia de María, la madre de nuestro Señor Jesús, para que podamos ser testigos de la profundidad de tu amor por nosotros.

Tu historia es una que siempre nos invita a ser nosotros mismos.

Danos curiosidad por la historia de cada persona para que seamos testigos de tu gracia y tus dones en ellos. Ayúdanos a encontrar conexiones con Tu historia para que podamos reconocer dónde estás activo en nuestras vidas incluso ahora. Oramos en el nombre de Jesús. Amén.

Luke 1:39-45

One reason we tell stories from Scripture is to see where our stories connect to God’s story and to see the places where God has been at work in the stories of others so that we might recognize where God is at work in our own lives, too.

Today’s gospel invites us into one part of Mary’s story. Told by Luke, it immediately follows the annunciation when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her she would bear the son of God and she responded by saying,

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38 NRS)

In today’s gospel, Mary has traveled to her older relative Elizabeth’s home. Their meeting is joyful and the Holy Spirit reveals to Elizabeth the identity of the baby whom Mary is carrying. Elizabeth cries out with a blessing for Mary and Mary bursts into song.

Before I talk more about her song, the Magnificat, I wonder about Mary’s story up to this point.

Some of our hymns and carols describe Mary as ‘meek and mild’ and she is painted in Renaissance portraits of the Madonna and Child as serene and peaceful, gazing at the child cradled in her arms. The music and images reflect her peaceful and humble acceptance of her place in this story that we hear in her response to the angel.

Elsewhere when her story is told, the focus is on how fortunate she was that Joseph remained with her, emphasizing the shame that can be placed on an unwed mother. It’s possible that shame would have driven her to travel to her relative’s house and even more likely that, despite her confident response to Gabriel, Mary was filled with uncertainty and even fear. She would have wondered how Joseph, or her parents would understand and feared punishment and even stoning for a charge of adultery. Her story teaches us that faith has space for both trust in God and apprehension about the unknown.

But I wonder what other stories we could imagine for Mary?

Mary and Elizabeth exuberantly share the news of their pregnancies and their awe at what God has promised. There’s no hint of dismay or exchange of superficial pleasantries but deeply felt, genuine joy. Mary is hopeful and expectant, trusting what God has already done. Her song echoes that of Hannah and the psalmists, drawing on tradition and Scripture that would have been written on her heart.

Hearing the words of her beautiful song of resistance and redemption, one colleague imagined Mary as “young, scrappy and hungry” like Hamilton in the song “My Shot” in the musical by the same name. While only a young woman between 12 and 16, Mary seemed to see clearly and spoke with wisdom.  She named the ways that God has already cared for the lowly, hungry and poor, recalling God’s mighty acts known in Scripture.

Mary understood that God was fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people in the child she carried. She believed that God’s mercy and salvation were incarnate – made flesh – in her child.

Of course, the story would have turned out very differently if she had said, “No.” when Gabriel spoke to her. God designs us with free will; surely, Mary could have run away and hidden from God’s messengers. But she didn’t.

She cooperates with God, participating in what God asks her to do, and she gives us this song, where she declares what she knows, speaking of God’s actions in the past and claiming God’s promise for the future.

Proclaiming “my soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” Mary directs our attention to God and God’s actions for us. In Jesus, God’s salvation is already accomplished – nothing separates us from the love of God who reconciles us to God’s self and restores us to life. When parts of our stories make it impossible for us to see for ourselves how deeply God loves us, Mary invites us into her story and reminds us that the unexpected is always at hand.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for the story of Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus that we may witness the depth of your love for us.

Your story is one that forever invites us to be our full selves.

Give us curiosity about each person’s story that we would witness your grace and gifts in them. Help us find connections to Your story so that we can recognize where You are active in our lives even now. We pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Advent 1C

Luke 21:25-36

Let us pray… May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

A few weeks ago, we heard the disciples questioning Jesus about the fulfillment of the kingdom. They wanted to know when they would see the things he had talked about. They wanted details and specifics, and Jesus told them they would have to wait.

Maybe you remember that I mentioned we were waiting for Emerson’s GRE scores. The scores arrived and all is well, so we were able to move on to something else.

Because there’s always something else, isn’t there? The world always has us on the edge of our seats waiting,

especially this holiday weekend:

Waiting

for the parade to begin,

for the sale to start,

for the countdown to commence.

Our attention is always being drawn to what’s next. So much so that we might miss what is happening right now.

In his gospel, Luke, like Mark before him, talks of signs and we remember that signs always point to God’s action. Luke encourages us to be on guard and alert to what is happening, to what God is doing. The foreboding felt by the people is being fed by their anxiety about the future. It is fear taking over. In response to our collective fear and worry, we are meant to hear Jesus’ promise that “redemption is drawing near”, “the Kingdom of God is near”, and His Word “will not pass away”. (v 28, 31,33)

This is the hope we celebrate in Advent.

In his letter to the Church in Thessalonica, we hear Paul’s own hope realized in the work that the faith community has been doing together.

Sometime after he left them, Paul sent Timothy to check on the church in Thessalonica and now Timothy has returned to Paul and Silas and told them the Christians there are thriving and that their faith is vibrant and strong. In response to this good news, Paul, Silas and Timothy write this letter to the Thessalonian church.

What we hear in today’s reading is the end of a second round of praise and thanksgiving that Paul offers to the church in Thessalonica. He had been so worried that their labors were in vain (1 Thessalonians 3:5) that he was overjoyed upon hearing what Timothy reported. His gratitude leads to thanksgiving.

Paul’s letter invites our own reflection on our community’s faith and witness. Here at Grace, we proclaim that we serve Christ and share God’s love. On this first Sunday in Advent, when we celebrate the beginning of a new church year, we could make a top ten list of all the ways we have served and loved our neighbors and each other well in the last year, and I expect every one of us would have a different list.

Ten things at Grace that brought joy to me this year were that:

We celebrated Día de los Muertos - when we remember our loved ones who have died - with about one hundred people from our congregation, preschool and community.

We cared for the family and friends of thirteen members at Grace who joined the Church Triumphant this year and are counted with all the saints now. And we continue to care for homebound members, with banquet bearers bringing them Holy Communion.

Three of our high school students affirmed their baptisms on Reformation Sunday after three years of study, fellowship and service.

We cared well for our community during Hurricane Helene and continue to help direct funds and assistance as we learn about needs.

We fed hungry neighbors by sponsoring food drives for Interfaith Assistance Ministry, Living Waters Lutheran Church in Cherokee and the Rescue Mission.

Staff, volunteers, young adults and youth traveled together to New Orleans for the ELCA’s National Youth Gathering, delivering thousands of dollars to ELCA World Hunger, and working, playing and worshiping together with tens of thousands of other Lutherans.

We welcomed more than twenty new or returning members to Grace, celebrating their place in our faith community.

We collaborated with St. James Episcopal Church and Trinity Presbyterian Church to host Vacation Bible School on Trinity’s campus and had youth and adult volunteers and children of all ages participating.

Our volunteers worked with dozens of ministry partners in our area to help them meet needs and complete projects during the Annual Servant Saturday in April.

Our preschool teachers and staff cared for more than one hundred thirty children, helping them learn and grow and supporting their families and we offered morning worship for our Grace Preschool families.

This praise isn’t about keeping score, and it isn’t about asking the church to do more or work harder.

Our lives of faith are never meant to become to-do lists. Paul’s praise gives thanks for the ways God has strengthened the Thessalonians’ hearts and names his hope that God will increase their love for one another and the world. (v. 12)

And our recognition for what we’ve done well together is similar; it is a celebration and thanksgiving for what God is doing, in, through and among us.

For us all, it is a recognition that the work is not yet complete.

The world is happy to help us remember that, with a secular litany of gift-giving, party preparations and all there is to do leading up to Christmas, but for us, in the Church, our focus is Christ.

We are called to wait and watch to see what God is doing and to participate with God in bringing about God’s kingdom here on earth. It is difficult work to wait on God, patiently watching, alert and attentive to what God is doing.

It’s much harder to wait than to busy ourselves with distractions or to grasp for control.

Jesuit priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (Taylar day Charrdan) writes about “trusting in the slow work of God” in a prayer called “Patient Trust”, where he writes

We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.[i]

A colleague calls this waiting stance “cathedral faith”.

Cathedrals are not built quickly. The great cathedrals of Europe averaged 250-300 years to complete. Here in our country, plans for the National Cathedral in Washington, DC began before the turn of the 20^th century in 1893, and the cornerstone wasn’t laid until 1907. It was 83 years before the “final finial” was set in 1990.[ii] Each architect and planner had to trust the next generation to continue the labor to create what is now one of the largest church buildings in the US and a place where hundreds of thousands of visitors go each year.

Holding “trust in the slow work of God” and having “cathedral faith” are ways of remembering that we are waiting on God’s action in God’s timing and not ours. It is a humbling and hopeful stance to take as we enter into this Advent season, eagerly anticipating Christ’s coming, both as Messiah at Christmas, and in His return.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus.

Help us be attentive to the ways You are fulfilling your promises.

Awaken us and keep us alert for how we can participate in your kingdom.

Strengthen our hearts and give us patience to trust in Your work in, through and among us.

We pray in the name of Jesus, our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

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[i] https://www.ignatianspirituality.com/prayer-of-theilhard-de-chardin/

[ii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Washington_National_Cathedral

Advent 2B (El Segundo Domingo de Advenimiento)

2 Pedro 3:8-9, 13-15a

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestro corazón sean aceptables ante tus ojos, oh Señor, fortaleza nuestra y redentor nuestro. Amén.

No sabemos mucho sobre el autor de la epístola que escuchamos hoy. Si bien el evangelio de Marcos es el texto evangélico más antiguo, escrito alrededor del año 70 EC, Segunda de Pedro fue escrita más de setenta años después de la Ascensión y el fin del ministerio de Jesús en la tierra.

Su audiencia se preguntaba cuándo regresará Jesús. Los discípulos que estaban con Jesús en Galilea y Jerusalén habían pensado que regresaría pronto, pero no fue así. Y puedes imaginar la duda y la incertidumbre que comenzaron a plagar a los creyentes con cada año o década que pasaba.

Y así es como comienza el autor,

“Para el Señor un día es como mil años, y mil

Los años son como un día”. (3:8)

Luego, el autor de la epístola asegura a los oyentes que Dios no ha olvidado sus promesas. Jesús regresará. Pero el tiempo de Dios no es el nuestro. Dios no está esperando ni demorando porque quiere que suframos con duda o miedo. En cambio, Dios está esperando pacientemente el momento en que todos lleguen al arrepentimiento. Recordamos del evangelio de Juan que:

 

Porque tanto amó Dios al mundo que dio a su Hijo único, para que todo aquel que cree en él no perezca, sino que tenga vida eterna. En efecto, Dios no envió al Hijo al mundo para condenar al mundo, sino para que el mundo sea salvo por él.

Jesús había prometido regresar, pero la promesa aún no se había cumplido. Estaban impacientes, pero también se escuchan las preguntas no grabadas, la preocupación de que han perdido su confianza.

Al reflexionar sobre la carta de Peter, la predicadora Lucy Lind Hogan imaginó la conversación de la “hora del café” entre creyentes que estaban cansados de esperar. Puedes escuchar las voces en competencia:

“¿Realmente crees en ese mito?”

"Hemos esperado todos estos años y no tenemos nada que mostrar".

“Si Jesús iba a regresar, ¿por qué no ha aparecido todavía? Hay tantos problemas en el mundo ahora. ¿Qué está esperando?

Todas las voces se centran en nuestro interior, en lo que creemos, en nuestros miedos y luchas humanas y en nuestra frustración. Y olvidan que el regreso de Jesús se trata de lo que Dios está haciendo.

Me enseñaron que en las Escrituras, Dios siempre recibe todos los verbos o, como dice el obispo y predicador metodista retirado Will Willimon: "Las Escrituras siempre y en todas partes hablan de Dios".

Recordando que Dios sigue con nosotros y esperando,

la pregunta luego cambia de "¿Cuándo regresará Jesús?" a

“¿Cómo viviremos mientras esperamos?”

Y el autor de la epístola nos dice,

“Esforzaos por ser hallados por [Dios] en paz, sin mancha ni defecto; y considerad la paciencia de nuestro Señor como salvación”.

Debemos vivir con esperanza y en paz, y debemos vivir expectantes y atentos a las acciones de Dios a nuestro alrededor y en nuestras vidas.

Dios no espera perfección de nosotros, por eso entiendo que la referencia a “manchas o imperfecciones” significa pecado. Sabemos que Dios promete perdón cuando confesamos nuestros pecados. Lejos de llamarnos a vivir una vida perfecta, la epístola nos llama al arrepentimiento para que Dios pueda restaurarnos y renovarnos. Y afortunadamente, tenemos la promesa de Dios de que la misericordia de Dios es nueva cada mañana. (Lamentaciones 3:22-23)

También debemos sentirnos alentados por la instrucción de considerar “la paciencia de nuestro Señor como salvación”. (15:a) Tenemos un “Dios implacablemente redentor” que anhela tener una relación con nosotros y nos espera.

Mientras el mundo apresurado se apresura y despotrica contra la inflación, el tráfico y los males de la vida moderna, estamos invitados a retirarnos y esperar con Dios, reconfortados por las promesas de Dios para nosotros, con la confianza de que Dios cumplirá esas promesas en su tiempo, no en el nuestro.

Gracias a Dios.

2 Peter 3:8-9, 13-15a

We don’t know a lot about the author of the epistle we heard today. While Mark’s gospel is the oldest of the gospel texts, written sometime around 70 CE, Second Peter was written more than seventy years after the Ascension and the end of Jesus’ ministry on earth.

His audience was wondering when Jesus will return. The disciples who were in Galilee and Jerusalem with Jesus had thought he would return quickly, but he didn’t. And you can imagine the doubt and uncertainty that began to plague believers with each passing year or decade.

And so it is that the author begins,

“with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand

years are like one day.” (3:8) 

The author of the epistle then reassures the listeners that, God has not forgotten God’s promises. Jesus will return. But God’s timing is not ours. God is not waiting or delaying because God wants us to suffer in doubt or in fear. Instead, God is patiently waiting for the time when all may come to repentance. We remember from John’s gospel, that:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.

Jesus had promised to return, but the promise was not yet fulfilled. They were impatient, but you can also hear the unrecorded questions, the worry, that they have misplaced their trust.

Reflecting on Peter’s letter, preacher Lucy Lind Hogan imagined the “coffee hour” talk happening among believers who were tired of waiting.[i] You can hear the competing voices:

“Do you really believe that myth?”

“We’ve waited all these years and have nothing to show for it.”

“If Jesus was coming back, why hasn’t he shown up yet? There is so much trouble in the world now. What is he waiting for?”

The voices are all focused inward, on what we believe, on our human fears and struggles, and on our frustration. And they forget that Jesus returning is about what God is doing. I was taught that in Scripture, God always gets all the verbs or as retired Methodist bishop and preacher Will Willimon says, “Scripture always and everywhere talks about God.”[ii]

Remembering that God is still with us and waiting,

the question then changes from “When is Jesus returning?” to

“How will we live while we wait?”

And the author of the epistle tells us,

“strive to be found by [God] at peace, without spot or blemish; and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.”

We are to live with hopefulness and in peace, and we are to live expectantly and watchful for God’s actions around us and in our lives.

God doesn’t expect perfection from us, so I understand the reference to “spots or blemishes” to mean sin. We know that God promises forgiveness when we confess our sins. So far from calling us to live perfect lives, the epistle calls us to repentance so that God can restore us and renew us. And thankfully, we have God’s promise that God’s mercy is new every morning. (Lamentations 3:22-23)

We are to be encouraged too by the instruction to regard “the patience of our Lord as salvation.” (15:a) We have a “relentlessly redemptive God” who longs to be in relationship with us and waits for us.[iii]

While the hurried world rushes and rants at inflation and traffic and the woes of modern life, we are invited to retreat and wait with God, comforted by God’s promises for us, with confidence that God will fulfill those promises in God’s time, not ours.

Thanks be to God.

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[i] Lucy Lind Hogan. “Commentary on 2 Peter 3:8-15a” Luther seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] Will Willimon, Heaven and Earth: Advent and the Incarnation.

[iii] ibid

Advent 1A

Matthew 24:36-44

With twin warnings, Jesus tells the disciples “Keep awake!” and “Be ready!”

Contrary to the success of the popular fictional “Left Behind” series, these verses are not about God seizing the elect and forgetting the rest of us. And while they may be entertaining, bumper stickers and church signs telling us, “to look busy because Jesus is coming” miss the mark here too. The purpose of apocalyptic literature in Scripture is not to terrorize us into obedience, but to provide revelation about God and to encourage hope.

Instead of being anxious about a capricious God whose promise of eternal life is based on our attitude or behavior, as we begin anew the season of Advent, both Isaiah and Matthew call on God’s people to wait on God and to look to God to do something new again.[i]

Isaiah is addressing the Israelites before the exile, urging them to trust God to fix what is broken and to live in anticipation of a peaceful future, despite the conflict roiling around them.

Matthew is speaking to Jesus’ followers who were likely living in Antioch in Syria where there were both Jewish and Gentile Christians. He’s addressing them after the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and in the midst of disagreements with both rabbinical Jewish leaders and Roman authorities.

Their messages to their communities remind us that faith is always communal, nurtured in the space where we gather together and draw near to God.

In this season, here at Grace, we are waiting and preparing for the coming of the Light of the World, God’s own Son Jesus - God’s love incarnate, born into the world for us.

Knowing what we are waiting for shapes how we wait. Instead of being anxious or afraid, we are invited to believe that God’s future will be different because it is a future is based on God’s promises; it is a future

where God will be with us;

where God will mediate or make a way through the division and enmity between nations and peoples,

and where God will bring peace to our lives.

That sounds implausible if not impossible as we witness violence in our communities and world. Is it surprising that we’d rather retreat into the merry comfort and nostalgia of Christmases past and pin our hopes on gift giving and holiday feasting?

But what is faith if not “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”? (Hebrews 11:1 NRS)

The prophet Isaiah begins his speech with a call to return to the house of the Lord, to the centering place where the people experience the rhythms of life together with God. This Advent season we are invited to gather here, to practice our faith together in worship and “to get ready for the new movements of God’s Spirit in our lives.”[ii]

We come together to learn God’s ways and God’s paths. But to be ready to learn we must be tender-hearted, and not let our hearts be hardened toward God. Remembering the mistakes of Pharaoh and the Egyptians, we must have a willingness of Spirit to hear God’s Word and go God’s way. 

It's easier said than done, of course. Submitting ourselves to God’s Word and God’s ways requires a re-orientation, turning away from the world and towards God, as when Saint Paul says, “lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light”.

The works of darkness are the sin and self-centeredness that distract us from God and what God is doing in this season. And wearing the armor of light, like being clothed in Christ at baptism, is not about being transfigured into dazzling majesty, but receiving the grace that God has given us freely and finding our strength in Christ. Instead of swords we carry weapons of righteousness, equipped by God to bear the Good News of Jesus coming into the world.

Finally, Isaiah calls to the house of Jacob, the people of Israel, and to us, “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!”

Pastor Nathan Nettleton paraphrases the verse from Isaiah as “let us stick to the tracks that the LORD lights up!”[iii] (Isaiah 2:5)

This time of year, I sometimes wear a headlamp to walk the dogs because it gets dark so early; with a headlamp, you don’t see very far ahead – just enough to take the next step, and the one after that as you move forward. Walking in the light of the Lord isn’t about having a floodlight that illuminates your surroundings so you can see everything at once; instead, it is taking the next faithful step, trusting in the One who is lighting the way. 

“Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord” this Advent season. Let us gather here with tender hearts and willing spirits to listen for what God is saying. Let us be ready and alert to how God is working in our lives and those around us. Let us not be distracted by bright lights and tinsel but focus on the Light that is coming into the World.

Let us pray…

Holy God, We give you thanks for giving your Son Jesus to the world that we may all know your love for us.

Help us turn away from the ways of sin that draw us from you,

and teach us to walk in Your light.

Let our light so shine that the world may know You.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

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[i] Fairless, John; Chilton, Delmer. The Lectionary Lab Commentary with Stories and Sermons for Year A (p. 3). The Lectionary Lab. Kindle Edition.

[ii]  ibid, p. 4.

[iii] Nathan Nettleton, Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources. https://laughingbird.net/index.php/occasion/a01/2022-11-27/ , accessed 11/25/22.

Fourth Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Seeking Sanctuary"

Luke 1:39-55

One reason we tell stories from Scripture is to see where our stories connect to God’s story and to see the places where God has been at work in the stories of others so that we might recognize where God is at work in our own lives, too.

Today’s gospel invites us into one part of Mary’s story. Told by Luke, it immediately follows the annunciation when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her she would bear the son of God and she responded by saying,

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38 NRS)

In today’s gospel, Mary has traveled to her older relative Elizabeth’s home. Their meeting is joyful and the Holy Spirit reveals to Elizabeth the identity of the baby whom Mary is carrying. Elizabeth cries out with a blessing for Mary and Mary bursts into song.

Before I talk more about her song, the Magnificat, I wonder about Mary’s story up to this point.

Some of our hymns and carols describe Mary as ‘meek and mild’ and she is painted in Renaissance portraits of the Madonna and Child as serene and peaceful, gazing at the child cradled in her arms. The music and images reflect her peaceful and humble acceptance of her place in this story that we hear in her response to the angel.

Elsewhere when her story is told, the focus is on how fortunate she was that Joseph remained with her, emphasizing the shame that can be placed on an unwed mother. It’s possible that shame would have driven her to travel to her relative’s house and even more likely that, despite her confident response to Gabriel, Mary was filled with uncertainty and even fear. She would have wondered how Joseph, or her parents would understand and feared punishment and even stoning for a charge of adultery. Her story teaches us that faith has space for both trust in God and apprehension about the unknown.

But I wonder what other stories we could imagine for Mary?

Mary and Elizabeth exuberantly share the news of their pregnancies and their awe at what God has promised. There’s no hint of dismay or exchange of superficial pleasantries but deeply felt, genuine joy. Mary is hopeful and expectant, trusting what God has already done. Her song echoes that of Hannah and the psalmists, drawing on tradition and Scripture that would have been written on her heart.

Hearing the words of her beautiful song of resistance and redemption, one colleague imagined Mary as “young, scrappy and hungry” like Hamilton in the song “My Shot” in the musical by the same name. While only a young woman between 12 and 16, Mary seemed to see clearly and spoke with wisdom.  She named the ways that God has already cared for the lowly, hungry and poor, recalling God’s mighty acts known in Scripture.

Mary understood that God was fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people in the child she carried. She believed that God’s mercy and salvation were incarnate – made flesh – in her child.

Of course, the story would have turned out very differently if she had said, “No.” when Gabriel spoke to her. God designs us with free will; surely, Mary could have run away and hidden from God’s messengers. But she didn’t.

She cooperates with God, participating in what God asks her to do, and she gives us this song, where she declares what she knows, speaking of God’s actions in the past and claiming God’s promise for the future.

Proclaiming “my soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” Mary directs our attention to God and God’s actions for us. In Jesus, God’s salvation is already accomplished – nothing separates us from the love of God who reconciles us to God’s self and restores us to life. When parts of our stories make it impossible for us to see for ourselves how deeply God loves us, Mary invites us into her story and reminds us that the unexpected is always at hand.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for the story of Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus that we may witness the depth of your love for us.

Your story is one that forever invites us to be our full selves.

Give us curiosity about each person’s story that we would witness your grace and gifts in them. Help us find connections to Your story so that we can recognize where You are active in our lives even now. We pray in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: A Home for All"

 Luke 3:1-18

At my grandparents’ house there was a big iron farm bell that hung outside their kitchen garden. And no matter where we were on their place, when you heard the bell toll, you knew you were being called home.

The prophet Zechariah, prophesying in the 7th century BCE, first tells Jerusalem that they will suffer catastrophe, destruction and exile and then he concludes with these verses that we heard today.

Now he promises Jerusalem and Zion – God’s people – that despite their disobedience and the suffering they have endured, God rejoices over them with singing and jubilation. Reviving the metaphor of God’s relationship to God’s people as one of deep love and intimacy, like a marriage, the prophet promises God forgives them and will gather them in and bring them home.

John the Baptizer too is calling God’s people home. He begins, in the verses we heard last Sunday, with a call to repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Sin is anything that separates us from God, anything that keeps us from being who God has created us to be and to live according to God’s commands. And unless we repent, or turn away, from sin, we cannot live in the fullness of God’s love.

Echoing the prophet Isaiah, John sets out some house rules for living as God’s people.

I remember some of the house rules my grandparents had. The big ones were that we had to have shoes on to come to the dinner table and you didn’t pick up your fork until Grandmommy picked up hers. Others like the dogs staying off the furniture and writing down any long-distance phone numbers we called. More than merely good manners, those rules gave us structure and taught us how to live together.

When John declares:

'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.  5 Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6 and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'" (Luke 3:4-6)

he is announcing what life together in God’s kingdom looks like.

When the valleys are filled and the mountains are made low, the playing field is leveled, and it creates a just landscape where everyone can participate in God’s kingdom here one earth without obstacles or barriers.

John’s words prompt me to think about our house - our sanctuary here at Ascension - and how, despite our efforts to love our neighbors, we still have barriers that keep people from coming into this house to worship.

In our physical space, our restrooms aren’t accessible and if you can’t navigate stairs, there’s no way to move between the two floors of this building without going outside.

And physical space is only one part of how we call people home and welcome people so that they may know God’s love. We must recognize the ways some of our structures and institutions are rotting or compromised and in need of repair.

This is the call to God’s people: to clear the threshing floor and separate the wheat from the chaff so that we may both preserve the good and reject and destroy the things that keep us from living faithfully as God’s people.

Hearing John’s call, I wonder what it would take for us to remove barriers and expand our welcome and ability to call people home to God’s house here at Ascension. And I invite your curiosity and wonder too. Where might God being calling us to expand our welcome?

The words can sound harsh, but neither Zephaniah nor John hold back when they address God’s people. God is present in our midst and that should disrupt our routines and get our attention. God’s abiding presence with us and for us should not merely be a footnote in our lives; it should transform our ways of being with each other and in the world.

So how might we re-order our house that it would better reflect God’s kingdom? What would we need to do differently that all might flourish and know God’s rejoicing over them?

Zephaniah’s invitation to God’s people wasn’t to return to what they had done before exile. It was an invitation into a new life with their God. We too are invited to look for the ways that God is redeeming our future. In this Advent season, we are invited to faithfully re-imagine what coming home to God can look like, knowing that God rejoices over us and loves us.

Let us pray…[i]

Good and gracious God,

We cannot thank you enough that you are forever welcoming us home, just as we are.

You paint a picture of a world that could be and remind us that there is enough love to go around.

Thank you for the voice in the wilderness that calls to us.

Give us courage to live as your people and be transformed by your radical welcome and unchanging love.

We pray in the name of your Son, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

[i] Adapted from a prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.

Second Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Laying the Foundation"

 Luke 1:68-79

Today’s psalmody wasn’t from the book of psalms at all; instead, it is one of the three canticles or songs of praise that we find in Luke’s gospel. First, we hear the Magnificat – the verses that Carol sang – that is Mary’s prophecy and hymn of praise and then later, when Jesus is presented at the temple, we hear the faithful Israelite Simeon’s prophecy and song, called the Nunc Dimittis that announces what God will do in Jesus.

These verses that we sang today, which are also called the Benedictus, are the song of Zechariah, husband to Elizabeth and father to John the Baptizer.

Earlier in the gospel, Luke told us that Zechariah, a Jewish priest, and his wife Elizabeth “had no children…and both were getting on in years.” (1:7) And then the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah that Elizabeth would have a child and they would name him John, but Zechariah was skeptical, and the angel took away his speech until the birth of the child.

It’s during her relative Elizabeth’s pregnancy that we hear the annunciation to Mary that she will bear a son and name him Jesus, and Mary then travels and stays with Elizabeth and Zechariah for three months.

When Zechariah uses a tablet to tell the people their newborn son will be called John, his voice is restored, and Luke tells us that Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke these words.

His words follow an ancient Hebrew blessing format that begins with a statement of praise (1:68a), follows with the reason for that praise (1:68b-74) and concludes with a formula for praise (1:75-79). These words of blessing express more than mere thanksgiving or gratitude; instead, they reflect the certainty that God has made a promise and that what has been promised will happen.[i]

Imagine having all those months to ponder God’s promises and what God is doing through the child that Mary will bear and through the child that his own wife Elizabeth is carrying.

Luke leaves it to our imagination to hear the tone of voice Zechariah used when he spoke these words. Perhaps they were loud and jubilant, reflecting a Spirit-filled excitement, or perhaps they were delivered with Spirit-led conviction, wonder and awe.[ii]

Either way, Zechariah makes a bold proclamation, announcing what God will do with certainty even before it happens.

Remember Luke is writing after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, and the people Luke was addressing were living under the rule of empire. The promises and the future they had imagined appears to be in jeopardy. But here Zechariah declares that, despite Whatever else you are witnessing, God is trustworthy, and the promises of God will be fulfilled.

He is confident that God will bring about the salvation of God’s people, even though John is a newborn infant and Jesus hasn’t even been born yet. [iii]

In his words, we hear an invitation to God’s people to live in the already but not yet, living as if God has already triumphed;

living into God’s future for us, undeterred by the obstacles and challenges the world throws at us.[iv]

The foundation of our faith, and of our lives,  is God’s promises to us.

In Jesus, God promises us grace, unmerited and unearned forgiveness and mercy. God promises to rescue us from our sin and death, to protect us from our enemies and to deliver us into new lives where we are free to love God and our neighbor and we are invited to serve.

As we hear Zechariah’s words of prophecy and promise, will we sing with shouts of thanksgiving for what God has already done, in this place and in the generations who have worshiped in this congregation, and will we share his anticipation and confidence that God will continue to work in, among and through us?

There is plenty of uncertainty in the world. There is division, hatred and violence. And the pandemic lingers. It would be easy to be discouraged.

But we worship a God who overcomes and makes a way forward. A God who intervenes and brings life into barren places. A God who chooses surprising people to carry the Good News of divine love and tender mercy into a hurting and fearful world.

Like Zechariah, may we always remember this is the God to whom we sing.

Amen.

[i] Karla Suomola. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] Adam Hearlson. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[iii] ibid

[iv] ibid

First Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Homesick"

 Luke 21:25-36

Today’s the first Sunday in Advent, the first Sunday of the new Church year, and the beginning of the season leading up to Christmas. The season’s name which comes from the Latin word adventus meaning approach or arrival, invites us to anticipate the coming arrival of the new thing that God is doing in Jesus.

This Advent, our worship theme is “Close to Home” and I ask you to take a minute to think about how you define home.

Saying “Home is where the heart is” recognizes that “home” is not only a building or even a city. “Coming home” means returning to what’s familiar and comforting. Finding one’s “home away from home” is about belonging in a place. And when things hit “close to home” they affect us not just at the surface or in superficial ways, but deeply, in our hearts.

This Advent, we name the paradox that we both have a home in God and our home is not yet complete.

God calls each of us to make our home in God’s love and
God is still working and inviting us to participate in building God’s kingdom and a home for all.

We begin by realizing how far we are from our divine home, from the place of belonging that we are invited to find in God’s love and where the comfort of God’s peace settles upon us.

I wonder whether you remember ever being homesick?

I remember when our oldest daughter went to boarding school for her freshman year of high school. For several months her emotions were running high, and her telephone calls home were drama-filled, and at the heart of it was homesickness. It wasn’t a simple wish for favorite foods or people, but an overwhelming feeling that all was not right with her world. That important parts were missing. That nothing could help.

Our gospel text is Luke’s “little apocalypse” and while he names the suffering and tumult that exists in the world, his words are hope-filled, reminding “all who live on the whole face of the earth” (v. 35) that God is present in the midst of the chaos.

Here Luke tells us that God enters into our homesick world and promises redemption. God promises to rescue us from our sin and restore us to the life that we have in God through Jesus Christ.

That is God’s promise for all of us who yearn for our home to be made whole, made right and made well. For me, whole, right and well means
the reconciliation of broken relationships,
the resolution of conflict in places where there is no peace,
and the restoration of health to those who are ill.

Luke assures us that we will see the kingdom of God drawing near and know that God is close to us. He compares our knowing God’s presence to seeing that the trees are beginning to bud and knowing, without anyone telling us, that the season is about to change.

He urges us to be attentive and watchful, and to see how God is showing up in our lives and those around us. Where do we see God draw near today?

A rabbinical colleague told this story of how God showed up:

In Judaism, there is a ritual that happens on the one-year anniversary of a loved one’s death. The rabbi made phone calls and sent emails so their congregation would know the event was taking place on a particular evening, and then he found himself, waiting in darkness about ten minutes beforehand, when, piercing the darkness with their headlights, cars began streaming in and people got out, grasping their prayer books, and entering the building in silence. There they worshiped together, joining in a tradition that reaches back to the third or fourth century. Woven into their worship was centuries of communities coming together to grieve and to celebrate.

God shows up in our words for worship, our rituals and traditions and in our gathering together, and God also shows up in our everyday lives.

While Emma was home for Thanksgiving, we took a few minutes to go through her late grandmother’s jewelry box. Jamie’s dad Jim left it with us when he visited in October and asked for our girls to choose some pieces from it. We sat the dining room table and as we opened the drawers and looked more closely, we shared memories. There was a small devotional medallion dedicated to Mary, my mother-in-law’s class rings from high school and college and even a charm-sized football from a championship game Jim played in the 50s. It was just a few minutes of remembering and reminiscing, and it was a sacred time honoring the woman we knew as mother, mother-in-law and MomMom.

In the ordinariness of our days, in our grief and in our joy, God shows up and accompanies us in all things to make the world whole, right and well.

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your promised Son Jesus and for the redemption you promise to us all.

Help us pay attention to the surprising ways you show up to heal our homesick world and relieve suffering.

Give us courage to participate in making your kingdom known here on earth and creating a home for all.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Wish lists and grocery lists, checking off chores – do you know where you stashed the gifts you bought, is the angel on the tree, is the bathroom clean? Even a favorite carol has St. Nicholas checking his list twice.

The days leading up to Christmas can be full of busy-ness - some sacred, some festive and some more mundane. And it’s in the midst of this busy-ness on this Fourth Sunday of Advent that we meet Nathan and David in today’s reading from Second Samuel. 

Chapter 7 begins saying that the Lord had given David rest from his enemies. And it sounds like David is about as good at resting and stillness as many of us today. Instead of taking time for prayer to wait to hear what God might say, or for stillness where he might experience God’s presence with him, David starts thinking.

And instead of enjoying the respite from strife in his family, court and kingdom, he decides he will build a house to the Lord, a temple, a permanent dwelling place to replace the tent that had housed the Ark of God since the Israelites had fled Egypt.

And the prophet Nathan, whom we meet here for the first time, encourages him, telling David, “The Lord is with you.”

But then we hear, 4 “…that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan….”

And the Lord tells Nathan to tell David that building a temple is not his work to do.

It’s not a bad idea; in fact, it’s good and important work, but it will be done by someone else.

It can be fun thinking up ideas - in seminary we called them “big hairy audacious goals” or BHAGs - and jumping in with both feet.

During this pandemic, as colleagues have shared resources and ideas for forming faith digitally and leading worship creatively, it’s been tempting to think about virtual choirs and Christmas pageants, drive through Nativities and Advent boxes for worship-at-home. It has felt sometimes like it was especially important to make Christmas even more memorable or special because of all the loss and upheaval we have experienced this year. And I have had to catch myself and remember that as your pastor, I cannot bring you Christmas.

As Dr. Seuss’ Grinch Who Stole Christmas learned, Christmas will come without ribbons and bows, packages, boxes or bags.

It will come because God so loves the world and sends us Jesus, the infant Son of God, from the house of David, who is born under a star.

In this story in Second Samuel, David teaches us two important lessons:

The first lesson is that God actually creates moments of rest and respite for us, if we only will take them.

Psalm 37 says, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently…do not fret,” and psalm 46 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” God creates these spaces for our good, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to think we are being lazy if we take time to spend time in stillness.

Our lectionary reading ends before we hear how David responds to Nathan, but if you keep reading in Second Samuel, you’ll see that he doesn’t get angry or argue with the prophet. He doesn’t become indignant. Instead, he responds by sitting before the Lord and entering into prayer, declaring who he knows God to be and proclaiming God’s greatness.  

The second lesson we learn from David is that the work to honor God, to set apart places and times for what is sacred and holy, is not our work alone.

When I’ve got big ideas, or long and varied lists, or find myself trying to move mountains to make something happen, it’s a good idea to check in with God to see whether my ideas reflect what God wants, or reveal, in fact,  that the work is better suited to another person or time and place.

It doesn’t mean that the work isn’t good or important, only that someone else may be called to it.

David’s story reassures us that God is inviting us to rest in God’s presence and to listen for God’s leading, and not try so very hard to solve the world’s problems on our own. Those are comforting words in these busy days leading up to Christmas and my prayer is that you will find the rest and assurance that God offers.

Amen.

Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4,8-11 

Did Isaiah’s words sound familiar when you hear them today? Jesus uses these words as his topic sentence for his first public sermon in Luke Chapter 4. There he is speaking to the assembly in the synagogue and when he finishes, the people try to throw him off a cliff.

His words were good news to the ones named in these verses – the oppressed, the brokenhearted, the captives and prisoners and those who are mourning. But they meant that things would not be the same. People would not be able to do the things they have always done. In Jesus, God was breaking into the world, turning things upside down and doing something new.

When Isaiah speaks these words for the first time, in Third Isaiah, he wants the people to know that whatever they are facing – unfairness, sorrow, grief, or the loss of freedom – their suffering has not gone unnoticed. The Lord has anointed him and sent him to initiate a new beginning for God’s people.

When we have faced defeat or are suffering or grieving, and we are laid low, it can be difficult to expect anything good, to recognize kindness or find hope.

But into the uncertainty that surrounds God’s people upon their return from exile, the prophet speaks, promising to clothe them, replacing their ashes with garland, their mourning with the oil of gladness and their faint spirits with a mantle of praise.

This is God’s merciful and redeeming action for them; not the result of anything they have done or said.

The prophet then says,

3b [The people] will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. 4 They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.” (Isaiah 61:3-4)

Isaiah was no longer calling the people grass that would wither or flowers that would fade. (Isaiah 40:7) Now they were to be oaks, mighty trees that endure centuries and withstand hurricanes, tornados, and droughts. Mighty trees that began small, insignificant and easily overlooked, as acorns.

As we hear these verses today, hopefully we can place ourselves in the text, and hear the prophet’s charge to us as God’s people. We are to stand strong and visible, as witnesses to God’s activity in the world. Our beginnings may be humble, but God is the one leading us and strengthening us.

The prophet continues to say that God’s people will be the ones who

shall build up the ancient ruins, …raise up the former devastations; …[and] repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

The prophet isn’t the one who will pour sweat and tears into this work of restoration and renewal. It’s God’s own people who are being called.

One of the observations that has been made about this year and the pandemic is that the fissures or cracks in our systems and safety nets, our healthcare and even our economy have been exposed. It’s not that the problems we are facing originated in the last nine months, but that our vulnerabilities were unmasked.

And when the pandemic ends, we aren’t going to be able to do the things we have always done.

As Jesus’ followers, we must go into places of ruin, bear witness to God’s presence, and walk alongside people who have been hurt by the church and world, and listen to the devastation in their lives.

For us today the verbs Isaiah uses aren’t about bricks and mortar; they are about people, the very brothers and sisters who are our neighbors. Redeemed by God, we are called to build up God’s people, raise up faithful disciples and repair broken relationships.

And when any one of us feels overwhelmed by that work – because it is hard work – may we remember that the mighty trees we are called to emulate survive because they have a sprawling root system that goes deep into the ground, and when they grow in dry places, the roots grow even more deeply. Those roots are anchors, securing the trees to the ground and they are lifelines, sending up new sprouts when the tree is damaged and storing what they need to grow and endure.

In the same way, our relationships with God and with one another keep us connected in a system where we will find encouragement and strength to weather whatever comes our way.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for sending your Son Jesus into the world to bring light into darkness and hope to the weary.

Thank you for your mercy and grace that is unmerited and unearned, but ours all the same.

Nourish us in our congregation with Your Word,

and by Your spirit strengthen us to be witnesses

to your presence in the world and messengers of the good news of Your love.

We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11

Sometimes we read the Bible continuously, neatly following the passages as one leads to the next. But the lectionary readings during Advent aren’t so orderly. Today’s reading from Isaiah and the Gospel reading from Mark both go backward from where we were a week ago.

You may remember that last week’s Old Testament reading was in Third Isaiah, the section written after the Israelites were allowed to return from exile to Jerusalem.

First Isaiah is the first 39 chapters of the book that address Judah in its stubbornness and failure to follow God; that section ends with an oracle in Chapter 39 that anticipates the exile into Babylon.

This week’s verses in Chapter 40 are the poetic opening of Second Isaiah. It’s thought that as much as 150 years passed between First and Second Isaiah  ̶ 150 years of living in exile, of dislocation and disruption, disconnected from God’s presence and voice.

Our reading begins with God speaking, breaking into the emptiness of exile and speaking hope to God’s people. Scholars say the prophet is listening to God address a “divine council” or heavenly assembly of angels and messengers.[i]

It’s easy to miss in our translation, but the passage actually has multiple voices. In the first two verses, God is commanding that God’s people be comforted, effectively saying, “Enough is enough and your suffering is ended.” [ii]

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, her penalty is paid... (Isaiah 40:1-2)

This is good news for the Israelites who had spent the exile
looking backward to the Exodus, the time in which God had freed his people from oppression,
and looking forward with uncertainty, waiting for God to again act decisively for God’s people.

And then another voice breaks into the discourse and the third verse is the one Mark uses to announce John the Baptizer in today’s gospel.

3 A voice cries out:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

God promises there will be a public return, demonstrating God’s triumphant victory over Babylon.

When a third voice joins in asking, “What shall I cry?”, scholars say it is the prophet himself. He protests that after such a prolonged separation, the people are more comfortable with God’s absence than God’s presence. And they have proven themselves unreliable. What can he say to change their hearts and minds?[iii]

And then like last week’s mighty “Yet” we hear one of the council voices saying,

“Yes, but the word of God will stand forever.

Yes, the people have been fickle. Yes, they have turned away from God. But God is God and God’s grace for us is not dependent upon any human effort or merit. It is always God’s saving action for us.

And then the council voice speaks again, calling Isaiah the herald of good tidings, the bearer of the Good News that God is decisively present, here with God’s people, and “the world is changed by God.”[iv]

As God’s messengers, we too are called to be the herald of good tidings, the Good News, in today’s world.

I wonder, what message comes to you if you read this passage with the name of our congregation and community in place of Zion and Jerusalem and Judah?

Lift up your voice with strength, Ascension Lutheran, herald of good tidings. There is good news for the city of Shelby. Shout it as loud as you can from the highest mountain. Don't be afraid to shout to all of Cleveland County, 
“Your God is here!”

Especially in Advent, we are called to proclaim the Good News of God’s presence and mercy to our community with joy:[v] 

The Good News that, as long as the nine months of the pandemic have been, they have not been an exile from God’s presence.  God is with us.

The Good News that God comforts God’s people, recognizes our suffering, and does not leave us alone.

The Good News that God is both a warrior for God’s people who conquers God’s enemies, and a gentle, shepherding God who cares for the vulnerable and shows mercy to those in need.

The Good News that the long-expected Jesus is coming into the world, delivering us from evil, freeing us from our fears and sins and giving us hope and peace.

Thanks be to God for the Good News.
Amen.

[i] Walter Brueggemann, Isaiah Chapters 40-66. 15-17.

[ii] Brueggemann, 18.

[iii] Brueggemann, 19.

[iv] Brueggemann, 21.

[v] “Light on the Lessons”. Lutheran Bible Ministries. © 2011. Used with permission.