Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

15 As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, 16 John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming, the thong of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 With a winnowing fork in hand, he will clear the threshing floor and gather the wheat into his granary, burning the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

  21 Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, 22 and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

———————-

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

It’s a lot… It’s a lot…right now…

Meet us where we are today.

Struggling…rejoicing…tired…energized…

And everywhere in between.

Remind us today, that you delight in us.

That we are your beloved.

Amen.

———————-

I want to start by saying thank you… Thank you to everyone who reached out, who called, who emailed, folks who literally just dropped food on our doorstep…thank you. Knowing that there are people out there who care so much about my family means a great deal to me. Thank you for the well-wishes. Most importantly, thank you for the prayers.

Everyone is doing much better, most especially Oliver. Obviously, he has been and continues to be our number 1 concern, but he is doing better and our prayer is that he continues to get better and healthier.

This was certainly not how I imagined the holidays going for us this year…but alas…here we are.

Again…thank you…so much…to everyone who reached out in the immediate aftermath with a call, an email, a text…during what was, honestly, a really scary time for us. Thank you. It means more to me than I can express…

It’s odd, in some ways…as a Pastor, I’m so often the one reaching out. I’ll call or text. When something significant happens in your life, part of my call, I feel, is to get in touch with you, ask you if there’s anything at all that I can do for you or your family, I’ll talk with you…and I’ll pray with you. I love those holy moments. I love praying with you.

Pastors are caregivers. And caregiving is one part of how I understand my call. But it’s a very strange feeling for me, a Pastor, to be on the other end of needing to receive care. Not because Pastors are superhumans or don’t ever have needs or anything like that, it’s just that usually, we don’t do it so publically…we have other folks who are part of our circle of care, usually, Pastors go through struggles a little bit more quietly than most…

So…again…thank you…

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been reminded more than a few times of what draws us together as a community of faith. It’s the mutual care and concern for one another. And not just for those that call themselves members, not just those that part of the club, but our life together is marked, is defined, by care and concern for others, for those who aren’t part of the group, care, and concern for those on the margins, those who aren’t thought of as much by the world’s standards, care, and concern for creation… Life together in the community of faith “weeps with those who are weeping and rejoices with those who are rejoicing.” Life together in the community of faith is one where we “bear one another’s burdens” and “lift one another up.”

This bond that’s shared in the community of faith is stronger than maybe even some family bonds that you know. We even sometimes say that about this community of faith…a family…family of faith…

Speaking of family, I’d be remiss if I didn’t say Happy Birthday to my mom today…she’s watching…Happy Birthday, Madre. I love you.

Family…of faith.

On this Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, I’m thinking about probably the single most important class of my entire 4 years of seminary—the Theology of the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. taught by the incomparable—and of blessed memory—Reverend Doctor Pete Pero. Dr. Pero was a titan in Lutheran Theology, and specifically in Black Lutheran Theology…and Pete had this incredible lens through which he viewed the world and he had this saying he would repeat often…”Water is thicker than blood.”

Water is thicker than blood…

So often, when we think of our families, what we hear is that those family ties are what’s most important…you might have your problems, but that blood runs thick…it’s not easy to forsake one’s family…

But water is thicker than blood…

What Pete meant is that in the waters of baptism we are knit into this expansive, deep and wide, and ever-growing family. What draws you and I together as siblings, as members of the same body of Christ, is so much greater, so much stronger, than even the deepest family divisions.

Jesus goes out into the wilderness to be baptized by John, and as he’s coming up out of the water, “the heavens are opened and the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus in bodily form, like a dove.”

And a voice comes from heaven, “You are my son. You…are…my child. With you…I am so, so pleased…”

What if the thing we recognized about one another first, and above all else, was one another’s identity as a beloved child of God?

Might we be much less quick to cast stones and aspersions…might we be more willing to assume the best in each other, instead of always assuming the worst about people’s intentions…?

Throughout the season of Epiphany—which is what we call this time in between the Feast of the Epiphany, which we celebrated last week, and the season of Lent, which begins with Ash Wednesday—throughout this season our gospel stories will all be about Jesus growing in recognition about the kind of Messiah he’s called to be. And we’ll be pairing these gospel narratives with readings from 1st Corinthians, and talking about the struggles of a community and how it’s hard to stay together or even find commonality when times are really tough…all things that we would know nothing about, right…?

But this idea of call…and who we’re called to be…who God has called you to be…who God is calling New Hope to be…during this time… This is some of what we’ll be exploring over the next few weeks.

Friends, we’ve got a pretty good start, I’ve gotta say. We just finished up a wild year where so many of us had to rethink and reimagine what ministry looked like for us. But I really think that, by and large, we adapted pretty well. I want you to go to this week’s Anchor newsletter and look at the update from Armstrong Elementary. There’s a QR code up on your screen or you can go to your phone’s browser and type in linktr.ee/newhopelc and there’s a button on our Linktree page that will take you to this week’s newsletter. And I want you to scroll down and read the update from Armstrong.

Church, so. much. ministry. is happening with Armstrong right now. We’ve partnered with them in the Brighter Bites initiative, helping package fresh fruits and veggies for students and families that have very limited access to them. New Hope donated bikes to use as attendance awards.

Church, when we talk about what’s next…when we think about mission and we think about all the great work that New Hope has been instrumental in getting started and supporting over the years—Family Promise, East Fort Bend Human Needs Ministry, the New Hope Clinic—we often struggle imagining what’s next. Church, Armstrong is it. Don’t forget, this partnership is only a few years old. There’s so much opportunity for New Hope to be the hands and feet and heart of Christ over there.

And, I gotta say, a huge thank you to Joan Keahey, our current Armstrong Coordinator, and Monica Perin, who helped us get started over there, and Jim Uschkrat, who continues to help out as Missions Coordinator…and so many of you who volunteer your time and energy as mentors and reading buddies and ESL teachers and teacher aides…we are making a demonstrable impact in people’s lives.

So what else might God be calling us to this year?

Hospitality? Welcome? Inclusion? Justice? I’ll tell you, the opportunities are there and they are plentiful. The fields are ripe for the harvest, church. What ideas do you have? What opportunities do you see in our neighborhood?

I gotta tell you, family…I think we’ve got a pretty good start to build on.

You already do a wonderful job of reaching out in care. Your compassion shines through.

I see it. I’ve been the incredibly blessed recipient of it.

We’ve got a good foundation upon which to build.

Let’s get to work building this home.

Luke 2:41-52

41 Now every year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. 43 When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. 44 Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. 45 When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. 46 After three days they found Jesus in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 And all who heard Jesus were amazed at his understanding and his answers. 48 When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” 49 Jesus said to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” 50 But they did not understand what he said to them. 51 Then Jesus went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

  52 And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.

———————-

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Caring God,

You make your home here with us,

And in doing so, you choose us.

Help us to create spaces of affirmation and belonging.

Guide us to foster rich conversations

About your abundant mercy, hospitality, and love.

Amen.

———————-

Merry Christmas, church!

Did you have a joyful celebration? Nice time with family?

Anyone get gifts this year? Anyone get coal…? Be honest…

What was the most meaningful gift you received or gave this year?

It’s not rhetorical, so if you want to respond, please do. If not, maybe just write down the question there in your bulletin, and you can revisit it later.

What was the most meaningful gift you received or gave this year?

Throughout the seasons of Advent and Christmas, and onto Epiphany, we’re sticking with this series from A Sanctified Art called Close to Home. In this Christmas season, the focus shifts a bit from the longing after God that we explored during Advent, and into engaging questions of the difference that it makes for us that God chooses to make God’s home here with us.

Like what difference does it make…how are you different…knowing that God dwells here…with you…with us…in our midst…and in our world?

Where do you find God these days? Where do you see Jesus?

Mary and Joseph find Jesus in the temple this morning. Before this, they leave Jerusalem without Jesus and don’t realize it…kind of a 1st-century Palestinian version of Home Alone. They’re in Jerusalem for the Passover, they leave, they know Jesus isn’t with them but they assume he’s with some of their friends…they travel a full day’s journey before they decide maybe they should probably look for him, they don’t find him, go back to Jerusalem, and ultimately find Jesus in the temple having theological discussions with all the rabbis and scribes.

Now, I will grant you that it’s probably not the same kind of blockbuster that Macaulay Culkin and Catherine O’Hara bring…but…I’d probably watch it…for, like, a little bit… I’d at least preach on it…

There are homes we are born into, homes we are invited into, and homes we create—for ourselves and for others. Jesus has found a home, of sorts. Not forsaking his parents and the home he’s born into, but rather discovering a kind of chosen home. “Why were you looking for me? Didn’t you know that surely I would be in God’s house…in my Father’s house…in my heavenly Parent’s house…?”

How can New Hope be a place that those who are seeking choose?

What kinds of rich discussions about God are being fostered here?

I mentioned in my Christmas Eve sermon about 2 remarkable gifts that were given to New Hope last week. Church, we must not squander these gifts and this opportunity. In that sermon I also lifted up what New Hope has historically been to this neighborhood and this community, because I firmly believe that this is our way forward. The gift and opportunity we have been given is to further bless and do good and fight for justice and equality in our community.

And doing this work will necessarily invite people to wonder about you.

Why do you do what you do? Why does your church support people like this? Why do you care so much about the downtrodden and cast aside and those that are thought of as less than? Tell me more about this God who loves me just as I am, regardless of who or how I love, regardless of any name or label that our world uses to divide. Tell me more about this incredible gift of grace…

Friends, if we want people to seek and find, we need to be doing something worth seeking out. We have been given an opportunity, and that opportunity means that there is work to be done and lives to be changed, and I need your help to do it.

African-American pastor, poet, and civil rights leader Howard Thurman writes a lovely poem for this post-nativity time we now find ourselves. It’s one of my favorites that I share often on the first Sunday after Christmas. It’s called The Work of Christmas, again by Howard Thurman.

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the the kings and the princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flocks,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among [siblings],

To make music in the heart.

The work of Christmas begins, church.

To continue building God’s home of love and acceptance here.

What an incredible gift it is to be called to this work.

Luke 2:1-20

1 In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3 All went to their own towns to be registered. 4 Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5 He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7 And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

  8 In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9 Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11 to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

 14 “Glory to God in the highest heaven,

  and on earth peace among those whom God favors!”

  15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17 When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child;

18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

———————-

Please pray with me this evening, church:

Holy God,

Through the birth of a child,

You show us what Love looks like.

Let that Love be born in us again tonight,

So that we might be Love for the world.

So that we would build your home of love here.

Amen.

———————-

On this very evening, 46 years ago, about 100 people from 30 families, plus a few neighbors and visitors gathered together in that building just next door for worship. On Christmas Eve in 1975, New Hope Lutheran Church had its very first worship service at this location.

In what is affectionately known as our Old Sanctuary, the dream of what this community of faith could become entered into a new chapter. Those incredible disciples that gathered here for worship 46 years ago took the next faithful steps to build a home for God’s people here in Missouri City…here in this place.

Throughout the Advent season, and now into the Christmas season, we’re using a worship series from the creative women of A Sanctified Art called Close to Home. This theme explores the depths of our longing after a God who chooses to make God’s home with us, here, in the person of Christ. What does it mean for us that the way God chooses to enter our world is through a tiny infant? What does home look like when the very definition of home for some is complicated, full of emotion, and not identical from one person to the next?

I want to express my thanks to our Church Council President, Dennis Kohn, who forwarded that newspaper clipping about New Hope’s first worship service here in this location. I’ve been thinking on it for a few weeks now, knowing that somehow it spoke to a sense of home for us, as a congregation…and maybe it speaks to a sense of home for you tonight. 

I think about the courage it takes to begin and nurture and cultivate a community of faith. I’m so immeasurably grateful for the faithfulness and tenacity of all those who came before me, who stood in this pulpit, and inspired so many faithful disciples, including so many of you, to take risks in building a place of love that exists for the sake of our neighborhood and community.

I’m reminded that building that community and strengthening those relationships isn’t always the easiest of tasks. Relationship-building is tough work, and it’s sometimes messy. And I think about the story we just heard and how for so many of us, we picture a quiet, serene still-life…a scene that is probably set up and played out in many of your homes—Mary and Joseph positioned just so, the shepherds and livestock off to one side, the magi and their gifts off to the other, an angel perched precariously on top, and the tiny baby Jesus delicately placed with eyes closed and mouth barely open…”no crying he makes,” right…?

And as lovely as those nativity scenes are, anyone who has ever welcomed a child into this world or been around livestock knows…there was surely nothing silent about that night…to say nothing of little drummer boys offering drum solos to the newborn king.

And maybe that’s more the kind of nativity we need in our lives anyway. Because you know that rarely are our lives full of silent nights. Rarely do you get a break to simply gather your thoughts, let alone get the house ready for family and friends to come over. Rarely, anymore, do we find ourselves drawn together amidst deep division to do the tough work of having difficult conversations and mending strained and broken relationships.

But it’s precisely for the messiness of our lives that God in Christ came to this world.

God came to this world so that we would have hope—hope that where we are is not where we will remain and that we have an active role in bringing about that promised future.

God came to this world to bring peace—a peace that isn’t avoidance or quietism, but rather a peace that strikes at the heart of injustice, holds the center across even the widest chasms, and lasts to the very end of the ages.

God came to this world that you would know joy—not a happiness that is dependent upon external forces, but a deeply-seeded joy that anchors you amidst all of life’s storms.

And God came to this world that you would be wrapped up in love—that you would know deep within yourself, in your heart of hearts, that you are loved, that you are cared for, that you are precious, and that you are cherished.

And even more than all of that, God came to this world as a tiny baby so that you would begin to make those dreams a possibility and a reality here, in this time, and in your own place. God came to this world as an infant so that you would cultivate hope, peace, joy, and love in our world.

God came to this world that we would cultivate hope, peace, joy, and love here…at New Hope.

I’m grateful for the vision that was cast here 46 years ago—a vision that lifts up the poor and downtrodden, a vision that feeds the hungry and cares for the sick, a vision that houses those without a place to lay their head—and I rejoice because last week, within the span of 48 hours, New Hope was given 2 financial gifts totaling almost $200,000 so that we would continue to build God’s home of love here in this place, for the sake of our community.

God makes God’s home here with us, so that you would join in building God’s home of love. To invite and welcome others. To rest and recharge when you need a break. To be fed and nourished so that you are strengthened for this work. And to be equipped and inspired to keep building where we can.

46 years ago, a dream and a vision were cultivated here.

We have been given a gift. We have been given a legacy. And it’s our turn to build.

A home for you. A home for those without. A home for those who aren’t here yet.

A home for all.

Merry Christmas, church.

Welcome home.

Luke 1:39-55

39 In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40 where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted her cousin, Elizabeth. 41 When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in Elizabeth’s womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42 and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43 And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?

44 For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

  46 And Mary said,

 “My soul magnifies the Lord,

  47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

 48 who has looked with favor on me, a lowly servant.

  Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

 49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me:

  holy is the name of the Lord,

 50 whose mercy is for those who fear God

  from generation to generation.

 51 The arm of the Lord is filled with strength,

  scattering the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

 52 God has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

  and lifted up the lowly;

 53 God has filled the hungry with good things,

  and sent the rich away empty.

 54 God has helped Israel, the Lord’s servant,

  in remembrance of God’s mercy,

 55 according to the promise God made to our ancestors,

  to Abraham and to Abraham’s descendants forever.”

———————-

Please pray with me this morning, church:

Loving God,

We don’t always get this love thing right.

We withhold love, or expect others to earn it.

Remind us, again, this morning, of your love for us,

Of the gift of your love freely lavished upon us.

Help us to be vessels of your love in our world.

Amen.

———————-

Can we just get this out of the way first? With all due respect to Mark Lowry, Buddy Greene, Michael English, and the Gaither Vocal Band…yes…Mary knew. In your bibles, check out just before this in Luke chapter 1, when the angel Gabriel literally tells Mary…

Yes…Mary knew…

Ok.

It’s a weird sort of phenomenon and incredibly difficult to describe the way that love multiplies and grows…particularly as it relates to children. My heart did this strange thing when Ollie was born…it, like, grew…and expanded…it made more space…for love. I didn’t think it was possible to just, all of a sudden, have more love…but I did…sure enough. And in the same way, it’s terribly difficult to describe the heartache and heartbreak felt by those who desire to have kids, who want to have children…but are unable…or who find their attempts beset by infertility or miscarriages or complications or any number of horrible medical realities. It’s incredibly difficult to describe that kind of hurt, that kind of longing, that kind of void that opens up that you want nothing more than to be able to fill with love.

Love and children…pretty synonymous.

Fully acknowledging that they can sometimes be downright monsters…still…there’s a lot to love about them. And a lot of hurt and feelings of lovelessness when one’s deep desires aren’t able to be realized.

In Mary’s case, there’s a lot of love tucked away in that belly.

Like, so much love—Love incarnate—growing away in there. The fullness of all the love that God has for the world…all contained within that tiny growing baby. Which, in a few short months from our gospel this morning, would come to be born and the complete fullness of God, the fullness of God’s love, God’s very own self…would arrive and make God’s home here…on earth…in our world.

In our Advent series from A Sanctified Art called Close to Home, we’ve been exploring the depths of this love, our longing after God, and our anticipation of the time when God comes to dwell with us, with humanity…when God makes God’s home among us, in our midst. We began our Advent journey with a feeling of homesickness and that feeling of longing and the hope we hold onto in the midst of feeling far from home.

Then we talked about preparing the way and John the baptizer coming before and how if we’re going to start building this home, we’ve got to start with a foundation of peace.

And last week we talked about what it might mean for this home to truly be home for all, a place where people can rediscover joy and rejoice in their belovedness, and a place that is full of joy because everyone is looking out for one another and sharing what they have and sharing resources, and people don’t go without because our freedom and our liberation and our thriving and our flourishing is all tied up together, and we all have what we need when we are actively and joyfully looking out for one another’s best interests.

And this week, we hear and we’re talking about what it means to welcome people into this place of welcome…how we show and share in love when people can find refuge and sanctuary and safety within this structure of love. We’re talking about creating spaces of love, and loving people so much that  they feel welcomed and invited to bring their fullest selves, and their hurts and their pain and their burdens here, while we share in these moments of love together.

I’ve mentioned throughout this series that hope, peace, and joy aren’t fragile things…about how they’re tough and rugged and gritty, and hard-fought and hard-won, and sturdy and tested and well-worn. And friends, love is no exception.

It’s a thing I tend to say often when I preach at weddings…but love, isn’t a feeling…love is an action… Love isn’t the sweet, saccharine emotion you see on the Hallmark Channel, love is most often and most clearly seen in hospital rooms, and cancer center waiting rooms, and soup kitchens and homeless shelters and food pantries… Love, too…is well-worn…and gritty, and rugged, and sturdy, and tough.

Love requires something from you. Love demands it.

We’re not always good at this love thing. We talk about loving our selves and self-care, and most of the time we do a pretty decent job at looking at ourselves and those close to us with eyes of compassion and love, but I think, if we’re honest, we should have to say that we expect everyone else to earn it. Those that don’t look like you or think like you or speak like you, those that you don’t agree with…they have to prove they’re deserving of your love…

Church, love requires you to give up your individual self for the sake of the relationship. Love requires you to give up your need to be right. Love requires you to give up your need to always have the last word. Love requires you to set aside your own preferences and wants and desires and opinions…in the interest of what’s best for the whole, what’s best for all.

Love means that you don’t always get your way.

But what you do get is so much better.

Because what you’ll find is that love creates a space of safety. True no-strings-attached, unconditional, freely-given love makes space. It opens up space for others. Loving people just as they are and allowing them to be the person that God has created them to be creates the conditions for growth and change and transformation to happen.

If we want to grow, if we want to see the structure built bigger and the circle drawn wider, we have to be willing to have space to grow. We can’t grow if we’re unwilling to move the walls of the structure. The structure itself has to be flexible, it has to be willing to grow…it has to be willing to bend and change and transform.

Mary’s song of praise we heard this morning, the Magnificat, imagines a radically restructured world. A home for all where love is the thing that holds it all together and a place where sanctuary and safety for all is guaranteed because of the love that’s infused throughout the structure. The Magnificat envisions a home where the powerful are brought low and the lowly are lifted up, the hungry are fed from the bread of those that have, the thirsty are given water to drink by those who control the taps. Mary’s song envisions a great leveling of the entire system.

When we are sincere to people about our invitation to “come home”, to return to God and to return to the source of their healing and wellness…the source of love…when we are sincere in that invitation, it necessarily means that we have to be willing to create space. It necessarily means that we have to be willing to hold space and allow people to be who they are and who they are becoming and who God created them to be.

True welcome and invitation necessarily means that we make space.

If these familiar stories we hear every year around this time, if these familiar nativity narratives tell us anything, it’s that by making space for those who can’t find a place to stay…we just might be welcoming Christ into our midst.

Church, how could we possibly miss out on that opportunity to behold such a magnificent gift of love.

Blessed Advent, church.

We’re so close to home.

See you Friday, when again we’ll hear the end…and the beginning…of this incredible love story…when this gift of love is born into our midst once again.

See you Friday, when you, dear child, will be welcomed home…once again…

Luke 3:1-6

1 In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of the Galilee, and Herod’s brother, Philip, ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, 2 during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. 3 And John went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin, 4 as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

 “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

 ‘Prepare the way of the Lord,

  make direct the paths of the Lord.

 5 Every valley shall be filled,

  and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

 and the crooked shall be made direct,

  and the rough ways made smooth;

 6 and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

———————-

Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of peace,

You are making your home among us

And calling us to be attentive to what you are doing.

Embolden us to join in this work with you.

Give us courage to help lay a foundation of peace

In which all are truly welcomed, truly valued, and truly affirmed.

Amen.

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We put up our Christmas tree and most of our indoor Christmas decorations last week after worship. We put up our outside lights a couple of weeks ago before Thanksgiving, but things are really starting to look like Christmas around the Michaelis home.

And honestly, I know it’s a little out of order…I mean, yes, I am a liturgical purist and I know that Advent is a season of preparation and I know that Christmas doesn’t begin until December 24, but honestly…after the past couple of years, I’m not going to begrudge anyone for getting a head start on spreading a little holiday cheer. Plus, Christmas stuff is a lot of fun with a 2-year old running around. That, and truthfully, waiting to do Christmas stuff until actual liturgical Christmas just wouldn’t fly at my house. Look, I don’t make the rules, I just abide by them…

I’m especially grateful for our home this year. Like I mentioned last week, even after a lengthy 20 months in which I’ve become intimately familiar with every single square inch of our home…I’m deeply grateful for our place. Perhaps you can relate.

Our Advent series from the creative women at A Sanctified Art is called Close to Home. We’re exploring what makes a home feel like a home, how do we know when we’re close to home or far from it, and what does it mean that God has made God’s home here with us in the person of Jesus—Emmanuel—God with us. We’re plumbing the depths of our longing after God and our collective longing for our home, for our world, to be made whole, be made right, and be made well. With deep longing, we watch and wait for God. This is the patient and expectant anticipation of Advent.

Last week we focused on that feeling of homesickness. That kind of nagging feeling you get when you know something’s just not quite right, that longing after a hoped-for world in which things are as they should be, a world as God intends it. Last week, we named the reality that the fullness of God’s dream and God’s vision for our world is not yet where we are, but that we are on the way. We are working to build God’s promised future here and now in our midst.

This week we start getting to work on that building. And like every good building project, you start with the foundation.

Every so often, I’ll look out the windows in our living room and down into the side yard part of our backyard. Almost every single time, without fail, I’ll be immediately drawn to August 27 of 2017 and watching the rain continue to pour down and the river of water rushing down our side yard making its way to the street and watching the water level of those tiny rivers rise and rise and rise and come close, but ultimately, never get up to our house. And I remember that we were some of the lucky ones.

Watching rushing water creep its way closer and closer to the foundation of your house is an extremely anxious thing. Certainly not peaceful. Maybe you can relate. There’s this kind of feeling of dread, but also a sense of resignation, because at the end of the day, what are you going to do? You can’t, like, stop it from raining…

I was reminded of the importance of foundations during Harvey. And I continue to be reminded that a solid and sturdy foundation is critical to a long-lasting, healthy, and continually useful structure.

John the baptizer shows up in the wilderness making the way ready for Jesus. The author of Luke situates John very historically—“in the reign of Emperor Tiberias…Pontius Pilate, governor of Judea…Herod, ruler of the Galilee”—but also situates John very much in the lineage of the prophets; in fact, the author of Luke compares John to the prophet that Isaiah talks about, “the one calling out in the wilderness and preparing the way of the Lord.”

Both the gospel of Luke and Isaiah understand and point out that the prophet is not the main event, the prophet is someone who comes before, who makes ready. The prophet in the wilderness is a forerunner, one who lays the foundation. The prophet is someone who doesn’t direct people to themselves, but instead points outward, away from themselves, pointing toward something or someone else.

In this case, John the baptizer is proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin to all those who were coming out to him in the Judean countryside, but John is calling people beyond that and pointing them to Jesus. And in this season of Advent, when we wait and prepare with anticipation and expectation, how are you pointing people to Christ, church? How are you reflecting Christ in your words, actions, and thoughts? How are your neighbors seeing Christ through you?

The prophet is the one who goes ahead, who points to the one coming after them. The prophet prepares the way. The prophet lays the foundation for what’s to come.

Throughout our Advent series Close to Home there’s a movement…from a place of feeling lost, of not knowing where or what “home” is to a recognition and a realization that God is our home, and specifically our home is found in Christ…God made flesh, a tiny infant born to an unwed teenage mother, not in a gilded palace far removed from everyday folks, but instead born among livestock, born into impoverished conditions so that you would know that this God is intimately familiar with—knows—the most impoverished parts of yourself…the parts you prefer to keep hidden, the parts you try and cover up and gloss over, and the parts you don’t let very many others see.

This series is about both recognizing where our home is, and about the steps, we take to build that kind of home here and now in this place. When we pray earnestly, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven,” it isn’t for some far off future…it means here…and now. And if we’re going to join God in making a home here, we’ve gotta start with a foundation.

Last week, we began with recognizing that deep longing inside ourselves for home—homesickness was the word we used. If we recognize that where we are is not where we want to be, we’re going to have to do what we can to join God in building that reality here. If we’re going to build a home where truly all are and feel welcomed, we’ve got to start with a solid and sturdy foundation.

It’s not enough to say “All are welcome”, we have to show it, church, prove it with our actions. Show me that truly all are welcome by the kind of foundation you put in place. Show me the solid and sturdy ground you stand on, and I’ll tell you if everyone’s welcome or not. Don’t just tell me I’m safe and beloved and affirmed…show me, demonstrate it to me.

You might think that the foundation of the home we’re building would be love, and normally, I’d agree with you, but then we wouldn’t be following the order of the weeks of Advent, so in this case, the foundation of the home we’re building is peace… But I don’t disagree with the foundation of this home being peace, either… Because peace can be a good place to start. Peace recognizes that we aren’t all the same, there are a diversity of views, but peace stands in the middle of that and says that the thing that draws us together is far greater than everything else that seeks to drive us apart. Peace is solid. Peace is hard, friends. Peace requires conversation and dialogue and a humble recognition that I may not always be right…but the thing that joins us together is greater than the things that seek to divide and separate us. The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said this about peace: “True peace is not the absence of tension. True peace is the presence of justice.”

Peace is a hard thing to come by. But we don’t make peace all by ourselves.

We pray for God to bring God’s peace into the world, and we look for ways to participate in the work God is already doing. We look for ways to join in God’s work of building God’s home here.

Yes, we are preparing the way for the coming Savior, for the inbreaking of God into the world, but in the process of making ready, we’re also being attentive to the ways our own hearts and lives are being made ready, being attentive to the ways your own foundations are being shaped and formed. Church, it’s your own wayward paths that are being aligned, your own rough places that are being smoothed out.

It’s your own wilderness that God is transforming.

Peace is breaking into the world.

And like the buds on a tree branch last week, the signs are small, but they’re everywhere.

It’s our call to be attentive to them.

To notice them.

To use them as the foundation for the home we are joining God in building here in our midst.

Come, Emmanuel.

​​Luke 21:25-36

[Jesus said:] 25“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see ‘the Son of humanity coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

  29 Then Jesus told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; 30 as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. 31 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the reign of God is near. 32 Very truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. 33 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

  34 “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, 35 like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 36 Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of humanity.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God for whom we wait,

We trust in your word of hope.

We wait with anticipation for your promised future.

And we recognize that we are not there yet.

We are not yet home.

Walk with us on our journey homeward.

Amen.

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Home means a great many different things to a great many different people.

Is home a place, or is home a person? Does home have a physical address, or is home more of an emotion? What does home look like? What does home feel like? How do we know if we are home, or if we’re far from home?

This Advent, we’re returning to a series from the formidably creative women of A Sanctified Art, called Close to Home. In their words, during this season “we journey through scriptures and rituals that are tender, heavy with emotion, and vulnerable. We carry the memories and truths of this season close to our hearts.” We honor the tension that God’s promised day is not yet fully realized among us, and yet God has already made God’s home among us in the person of Jesus—Emmanuel, God with us. In the familiar scriptures of this season, “home is both physical and metaphorical, something we seek and something we are called to build. Ultimately, God is our home and resting place. God draws near and makes a home on earth—sacred ground is all around us.”

This first Sunday of Advent, with God’s promise to God’s people through the prophet Jeremiah and apocalyptic warnings of Jesus in the gospel of Luke, we are poignantly reminded of how far from home we are. Signs in the heavens and distress upon the earth. Raging of the waters and quaking of the powers. Something is coming and it doesn’t look good. This first week of Advent stirs up a sense of homesickness in us…a sense that the world is not as it should be, and in some ways, we feel far from a recognizable sense of home. “Many have lost their physical homes, many feel alone, and many are isolated. Many feel as if we are wandering with no clear way forward.” This first week speaks to our deep collective longing—for our home to be made whole, made right, and made well. With deep longing, we watch and wait for God.

And with a fervent and tested hope, we trust that God has and does come among us to make God’s home with us. Our hope trusts that God has and does enter our homesick world.

It’s been a long 20 months…amen, church? None of us thought we’d be in this place, where we are now, back in March of 2020. And yet, we persist. We hope, and we trust, that this, too, shall pass. That where we are now is not where we will remain. And we continue striving forward to do what we can for our neighbor in need and the vulnerable among us. I have to say, I think this whole pandemic has been an exercise in hope. And it certainly hasn’t been easy.

Home can be a complicated thing. Raising a young one over the past 20 months has been wild. More of his life has been lived within a global pandemic than out of one. We intentionally kept our pandemic circle small and compact, we avoided unnecessary outings, we ordered out and cooked in, we kept things tight. And we spent a lot of time at home. Trying to keep a toddler entertained, I am intimately familiar with all eighteen-hundred-some-odd square feet of our home.

So yeah, home is complicated.

This week we got to spend a really good bit of time with my parents and my grandmother and my sister’s family. It was a balm for my soul. And it was a complete 180* from Thanksgiving last year. Last year, you’ll remember, before vaccines were available, and when things had started surging before Thanksgiving. So this year, I have a lot that I’m personally thankful for. Last year it felt like a sense of home was taken from me, in some ways. After Christmas, still under last year’s winter surge, mind you, my parents were coming down to spend a few days and do the whole Christmas thing with us, and on their way down, just as they had gotten through College Station, my parents got a call from my sister, the ER nurse, letting them know that she had just lost her sense of smell. Her sense of taste would follow the next day or so. But the kicker was, my parents had just been out at my sister’s house the week before doing the Christmas thing with their family, so there was a real question about transmissibility and incubation periods, and we just didn’t know.

My parents continued the trip from College Station to Sugar Land, and I’ll never forget standing in our garage with our masks on, and watching my parents and grandmother get out of their car with their masks on, and feeling so upset about what was happening. Of course, we knew we were doing what was best and safest for all of us, but it was heart-wrenching.

My sense of home was shattered in that moment.

Surely this is not the kind of world God dreams for us.

My sister and her family all ended up being fine. She had received her first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine earlier that week which likely spared her some of the worse effects and from passing it on to her family, but the contrast between last year and this year couldn’t be starker.

And that feeling is something that has stayed with me…that feeling of having home ripped from my hands. That moment feels so hopeless.

The lesson of Advent is one of waiting. It’s one of watching. It’s one of patience. And it’s one of paying attention.

Be attentive to the small, often barely discernible signs of life, Jesus says. Like the fig tree just starting to produce buds on its branches, you can know that new life is beginning to break forth. Even amidst all the other warning signs, all the things that stir up fear in us—distress among nations, shaken powers, and roaring oceans—you can trust…you can have faith…that something new is about to break forth.

And right there, that’s the key…it’s not about faith over fear, or fear rather than faith…faith or fear is a false dichotomy, church…it’s about faith in the midst of fear.

Jesus doesn’t deny that these fearful things will happen. In fact, you can expect them. “When these things take place, stand up and raise your heads. Know that redemption is drawing near.”

Advent is about a fervent hope…a tested, tried, and proved hope…hope is rugged, it’s gritty…hope is well-worn. A fervent hope holds fast to the promise that God has saved God’s people before and promises to do so again. Hope persists in the face of fear because of faith.

Our Advent journey is one of longing for a world that is as God intends it to be. A world in which there is no doubt that God has made God’s home here. A world that is no longer homesick for an imagined future that could be, because as God’s people, we are living in such a way that brings God’s promised future here, and now, to bear on our present.

Be attentive to the tiny, often barely discernible signs of new life and new growth breaking forth.

Stand up. And raise your heads.

Redemption is arriving.

Come, Emmanuel.