Coming Together Under a "Big Tent"

This summer the churches my wife (and I) serve are doing a preaching series based upon a book written by Adam Hamilton called Christianity’s Family Tree: What Other Christians Believe and Why? In this series we are looking at what a couple of United Methodist congregations in Southeast Baltimore might learn from other Christian denominations—as well as from our own. On the whole, I think it’s been a good experience for our churches. We’ve gotten quite a bit of positive feedback.

Now, the purpose of doing this series was not to suggest that we should give up our unique denominational identity as United Methodists and join hands with all other Christians to sing Cum Bah Yah. As much as Jesus prayed for unity among his followers, I don’t think this kind of literal joining together will happen—nor do I think it needs to. Over the two millennia since Jesus walked the Earth, his followers have always disagreed and divided. In fact, studying the “family tree” reminds us that in many ways, these disagreements are what have defined us—especially in the West. So to say our differences don’t matter at all would not be a realistic assessment of our present situation.

But on the other hand, I do think that a series like this reminds us that, once we get to know our brothers and sisters from other faith traditions, we actually discover that there’s a whole lot of “family resemblance” between all of us. To say it another way: all Christians have common roots in Christ. And even those beliefs and practices that may at first seem to be very different from ours don’t have to bitterly divide us. If we choose to, we can actually learn from them—and they can learn from us—and in the process, perhaps we can all embrace a more generous orthodoxy[1] without ever compromising our unique identity.

It is in that spirit that Christians from all over the world will gather in Raleigh, NC on September 8-9. Some two-dozen leading Christian speakers from around the country will be participating. They will share new and innovative forms of church-based ministry and renewal—new ways of being and becoming the church in the time and places where we find ourselves. The conference hopes to cast a vision for how we can speak even more powerfully in and to the post-Christian world of the 21st century, a world where denominational identities no longer carry the same meaning that they used to. I think the conversation they are going to have is extremely important, and one worthy of our prayers, and our participation. We may not be able to be present personally, but we should definitely pay attention to these and similar conversations that are taking place all around us—if we can only tune our ears to hear.

Many of us realize that our churches are less than we wish they were; many are a shadow of their former selves. The reasons for the decline, especially in mainline churches, are complex and multi-faceted. We have lost members, we struggle to attract youth and young adults, and we struggle to keep up with the rapidly changing post-Christian world outside our doors.

Can this damage be repaired? As God once asked the Prophet Ezekiel: Can these bones live again[2]? Those of us who have been in the church for many years ask the same question. We hope the answer is Yes, but to be honest, we aren’t sure what the future holds for Christianity[3].

There is recognition from most Christians today that the world is rapidly changing and the church must also change in response[4]. The question we don’t all agree on is: How do we do it? In the late 20^th and early 21^st century, a conversation has begun within the various streams of Christianity to wrestle with this very difficult question and the myriad of other questions that follow from it. The conversation seeks to be inclusive as possible—thus it needs to take place under a “big tent”. J

If you consider yourself a follower of Jesus—whether you are Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, or “other”—you are invited to join the conversation. You don’t have to stop going to the church you currently attend; you just have to be willing to participate in the dialogue, in whatever context you currently find yourself. The aim here is to have a conversation, not to start another denomination[5].

I believe that it is through this kind of inclusive dialogue with other Christians—some of whom may at first glance seem very different than us—that we become more well-rounded followers of Christ, better equipped to follow the way of Jesus in our rapidly changing post-Christian world. I might also add that I think we need this diversity of Christian perspectives if we ever hope to effectively address the daunting global crises that we face in our world today—almost all of which have spiritual roots.

My personal experience suggests that as we expose ourselves to the beliefs and practices of other Christians, we stand a better chance of becoming the kind of people (and the kind of church communities) who actually do the things that Jesus did on a regular basis, as opposed to simply learning about those kinds of people on Sunday morning. We become people who more naturally live as Jesus would if he were living in our time and place, and who are ready to be sent forth to live out the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20) today—baptizing others and teaching them to obey Jesus. We can then invite these people to add their voice to the Spirit’ed dialogue that has been going on among followers of Jesus for over 2000 years, and by God’s grace will continue for many years to come.

I believe that the emerging conversation has the potential to breathe new life and vitality into the Church universal. The question is: Will we take a deep breath and inhale this fresh wind of the Spirit or continue to hold our breath until we suffocate? The choice is ours….. by God’s grace and mercy, may we choose life, may we breathe deeply and live again!

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[1] Orthodoxy means correct belief. In this context, I refer to what we believe and why, and how those beliefs shape our perception of God. The term generous orthodoxy—from Brian McLaren’s book A Generous Orthodoxy—is just another way of suggesting that exposure to the beliefs and practices of other Christian denominations—and maybe even other religions—doesn’t have to be a threat to our identity, but rather can help enrich us, broaden our perspective of God, and give us a better appreciation of our unique identity.

[2] See Ezekiel 37:1-14 for the story of Ezekiel and the Valley of Dry Bones.

[3] To be clear I believe God’s Church will go on, but I think many local churches will not survive as presently constituted. To frame this more positively, when the “dry bones” come to life, the walls of our existing churches won’t be able to contain them. “Church” is perhaps returning to its roots; it is less about a place we go and more about a life we live…

[4] Christians believe that the message of the Gospel transcends time, but that we must constantly adapt how we deliver the unchanging message of Jesus in a world that is constantly evolving and changing.

[5] In fairness, many movements that eventually became denominations actually started out with the same goal. For example, the Methodist movement in England began as a conversation within the Anglican Church. It remains to be seen whether the emerging Church can successfully plot a different course.

Spirit'ed Dialogue

A common adage in our culture is that when you have a conversation with someone, you should stay away from two things: religion and politics. I think this is a reaction to how polarized these two issues have become—and perhaps always have been. In a way, though, it’s unfortunate that religion and politics have become such divisive issues, because if we come at things from the right perspective, conversations about these “controversial” topics can be quite interesting and informative. Sometimes, these conversations can actually bring people closer together, rather than drive them further apart.

Taking the risk and engaging conversations about such controversial topics—as opposed to avoiding them like the plague—might give us all some much-needed perspective on many of the issues that so often polarize and divide our secular and spiritual communities.

When we surround ourselves with like-minded friends, and never really associate with anyone who holds religious or political views different than our own, we tend to “paint” pictures of “the other side” using broad brush strokes and become convinced that our crude pictures are accurate representations of reality—i.e., it’s much easier to demonize someone when you don’t know them personally.

As long as things remain impersonal, the divisions between us and them can remain clear-cut—there is white and there is black and never the two shall mix … We are thus free to cast judgment on these faceless others; we can devote all of our time and energy to defending our ideology at all cost, winning arguments with our opponents, and clinging relentlessly to our version of the truth on a given issue—no matter what.

But the minute we start to get to know the living, breathing human beings on “the other side” it complicates everything—in short, it makes life messier! All of a sudden the boundary between us and them blurs considerably. We begin to see all kinds of nuances of gray that we never saw before when we were so consumed with defending the gospel according to us. We realize the people that we previously rather callously classified as them are actually honest, hard-working, intelligent, and sincere people a whole lot like us—their only “crime” is that they happen to see a particular religious or political issue differently than we do. In this new context, winning an argument doesn’t seem nearly as important as it used to; now searching for common ground with our new friends seems far more important.

Engaging in this kind of honest and transparent dialogue with others is not always easy, but doing so helps us realize that someone is not inferior to you simply because they don’t share your specific views on a particular religious or political issue.

In a specifically Christian context we might call this kind of dialogue Holy-Spirit-led debate—or if you like, Spirit’ed dialogue. (We United Methodists actually refer to it as holy conferencing.) Sometimes through this kind of inclusive conversation, we come to realize that the differences we thought were so irreconcilable aren’t nearly as big as we made them out to be. But many times, even after such Spirit’ed dialogue we still end up divided at the end of the day. Hopefully, however, even when we can’t reach an agreement on the issues that divide us, we can agree to disagree while at the same time maintaining civility, dignity, and respect for our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ on the “other side” of the argument[1].

This kind of Spirit’ed dialogue or conversation seems to be a hallmark of the so-called “emerging” Church. The emerging Church is really more about a conversation than it is about forming a new denomination[2]. As the word emerging suggests, it represents something that is not yet fully born—it seeks to give expression to a new form of Christianity that has been emerging in the late 20^th and early 21^st century.

There is recognition from most Christians today that the world is rapidly changing and the church must also change in response[3]. The question we don’t all agree on is: How do we do it? The emerging Church invites everyone who calls upon the name of Jesus around the world—be they Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, or “other”—to come together and wrestle with this very complex question. We don’t have to sacrifice our individual denominational identity to join this emerging conversation (in fact, we as we interact with people from other faith traditions we may actually find that we appreciate what makes us unique all the more) but as we get to know people whose beliefs and practices are different than our own, we discover something interesting. We find that the denominational labels that used to rigidly define us and thus divide us in the past aren’t nearly as important as what we all have in common—our core identity as followers of the way of Jesus.

Some accuse the emerging Church of rejecting all that has gone on before and trying to start over from scratch—throwing the baby out with the bath water if you will. They argue that the emerging Church goes too far to try and accommodate our post-Christian world. But as someone who considers themselves to be emergent[4], I don’t find that to be an accurate characterization. I think that often times the people that make these accusations never actually take time to find out what the emerging Church is all about. As mentioned earlier, when we don’t have personal experience with someone—or in this case, something—we tend to “paint” a picture of them using a broad brush. And as is often the case, a picture “painted” with such broad strokes may be insufficient to provide an accurate representation of the emerging Church.

I would argue that the emerging Church is simply doing what followers of Christ have done since the very beginning. They seek to learn from the Christian traditions and rituals of the past and apply them in new and innovative ways that are relevant to the context of the present.

I believe that the Spirit’ed dialogue that the emerging Church has begun has the potential to infuse new life and vitality into the Church universal. The wind of the Spirit is blowing—the world is changing around us. The question is: How will the Church respond? Will we open the windows and allow the Spirit’s freshening breeze to blow through our midst, or close up the shudders tightly continuing to breathe the same stale, stagnant air we’ve breathed for decades? One choice focuses on securing a future with hope for future generations; the other seeks only to preserve the status quo.

I believe that it is through engaging in this kind of inclusive dialogue with other Christians—some of whom may at first glance seem very different than us—that we become more well-rounded followers of Christ who are better equipped to follow the way of Jesus in our rapidly changing post-Christian world. My personal experience suggests that as we expose ourselves to the beliefs and practices of other Christians, we stand a better chance of becoming the kind of people who actually do the things that Jesus did on a regular basis, as opposed to simply learning about those kinds of people on Sunday morning. We become people who more naturally live as Jesus would if he were living in our time and place, and who are ready to be sent forth to live out the Great Commission [Matthew 28:18-20] today—baptizing others and teaching them to obey Jesus. We can then invite these people to add their voice to the Spirit’ed dialogue that has been going on among followers of Jesus for over 2000 years, and by God’s grace will continue for many years to come.

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[1] For a good discussion of finding common ground on a number of these divisive religious (moral) and political issues see the book Seeing Gray in a Black and White World by Adam Hamilton.

[2] Many movements that eventually became denominations actually started out as conversations within the existing church of their day. For example, the Methodist movement in England began as a conversation within the Anglican Church. It remains to be seen whether the emerging Church can successfully plot a different course.

[3] Christians believe that the message of the Gospel transcends time, but that we must constantly adapt how we deliver the unchanging message of Jesus in a world that is constantly evolving and changing.

[4] Being emergent is less about the church you attend on Sunday and more about your mindset all week long. There could be emerging Christians in every local church—emerging Methodists, emerging Catholics, emerging Presbyterians, etc. On the other hand, some emergents wouldn’t identify themselves with any denomination.

Breathe Deeply and Live Again

"[Christianity] has two lungs, it will never breathe easily until it uses both of them".

—Pope John Paul II (1988)

Human beings need air to live; our lungs provide play a pivotal role in keeping us alive. We inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide about 20,000 times in an average day. Imagine how many times you’ve done it just while reading this paragraph. J

We usually don’t think consciously about breathing unless for some reason our ability to breathe is impaired. A frequent expression we use to indicate that after you practice a given activity for a while, it becomes easy to do—e.g., riding a bicycle—is to say: “it’s as natural as breathing”. When you think about, is any activity is more natural than breathing? It’s so fundamental to whom we are that, most of the time, we do it without conscious though.

Human beings have two lungs, and we are designed such that we function best when both of them are functioning at full capacity. While we can survive with only one functional lung (or even less) we cannot operate at our full capacity. We learn to compensate for the reduced airflow; we adjust our lives accordingly—but it gets harder to breathe.

As an example, my wife has mild asthma. Most days she is fine, but her breathing capacity is more limited and thus she has to pay more attention to breathing than the average person does. It’s much harder for her to do aerobic exercise than it is for me, a non-asthmatic. There are days (such as when air quality is poor) her breathing is more impaired; she even occasionally has to use an inhaler to help clear her lungs. Colds and other respiratory ailments impact all of our breathing, but they are especially challenging for those with asthma. Again, it’s harder to breathe when our lung capacity is limited.

There’s another organism that breathes. It has two lungs and it functions at its best when it breathes deeply from both of them. But for a very long time it has been only using one of its lungs. It’s been going on so long that the organism has learned to compensate and get along “pretty good” on the one lung; it doesn’t even realize what it’s missing. In fact in many cases, the organism is living on just a small portion of one lung. It could breathe in so much more life and vitality if it simply recognized and learned to utilize the full capacity of the one lung—much less if it actually realized that it was born with two fully functional lungs and made an effort to reconnect to the missing one.

You’ve probably guessed that the organism I am speaking of is the Church. The two lungs I refer to are the Western and Eastern branches of Christianity[1]. The Western lung has been carved up into Roman Catholicism and the many Protestant denominations—hence I say that many Western Christians actually breathe from only the small portion of the Western lung that constitutes our particular denomination. Truly, we are handicapped! The Eastern lung comprises the Orthodox Church and while it has remained more unified over the centuries than the Western lung, for over 1000 years it too has been breathing with limited lung capacity.

The two lungs of Christianity have been separated for so long, that for the most part, we have all but forgotten that we ever had two lungs. Most of us living in the Christian West have very little concept of or contact with Orthodox Christianity—including the author. Likewise, Orthodox Christians aren’t familiar with Roman Catholic and/or Protestant practices. Like the human being who loses the use of one of their lungs learns to compensate for the handicap over time, so we Christians have learned to compensate and “make do” with the limited lung capacity we had. Each branch developed independently and had different theological emphasis based on the culture in which they developed[2]. There is much to commend (and yes, criticize) in both Eastern and Western Christian thought and practice. But overall, considering the limited lung capacity of each, both branches of Christianity have done remarkably well.

Many of us realize that our churches are less than we wish they were; many are a shadow of their former selves. The reasons for the decline, especially in mainline churches, are complex and multi-faceted. We have lost members, we struggle to attract youth and young adults, and we struggle to keep up with the rapidly changing post-Christian world outside our doors.

Can this damage be repaired? As God once asked the Prophet Ezekiel: Can these bones live again[3]? Those of us who have been in the church for many years ask the same question. We hope the answer is Yes, but to be honest, we aren’t sure what the future holds for Christianity[4].

Consider this: Is it possible that our limited breathing capacity has contributed in some way to some of the long-term decline in our churches? Consider what might happen in our churches if we all learned to breathe more fully? What might we learn from other denominations that could enrich our experience of God and breathe new life into “dry bones”? What buried treasures might we unearth as we study the beliefs and practices or our own denomination in greater detail?

For Christians in both the East and the West, the other lung has lied dormant for so long that it’s hard to imagine learning to breathe through it. It wouldn’t be easy to learn to breathe through a lung that we’ve never used before. Like anything, new it would take some getting used to—and lot’s of practice! But imagine the good that might result if we did—for us and for our world. Do you think it might be worth putting forth the effort to learn?

This summer, the churches I attend are doing a preaching series based upon a book called Christianity’s Family Tree: What Other Christians Believe and Why? In this series we are looking at what a couple of United Methodist congregations in Southeast Baltimore might learn from other Christian denominations—as well as from our own.

We’re hoping, as a result of this series, to gain a deeper appreciation for our fellow Christian “family members”. Some of them are already fairly familiar to us—like close relatives we see fairly frequently—wile others aren’t nearly as familiar—they are more like distant family. However, if we go far enough back on the family tree, we discover that all Christians share common “ancestry”—i.e., we have common roots in Christ. In fact, as we get to know these more distant family members a little better, we might find that we have more in common than we ever realized. And even those things that are different don’t have to divide us. (It depends on what we choose to focus on.) We can learn from them—and they can learn from us—and in the process, perhaps we can all embrace a more generous orthodoxy[5] without ever compromising our unique identity.

Perhaps your church could benefit from the kind of study that our churches are doing right now. You may wish to consider doing something similar in your faith community. Surely every one of us could stand to “stretch” ourselves theologically and develop a more generous orthodoxy—to use the terminology we have used in this article, we could all stand to have our lung capacity increased.

So I encourage you to take a deep and cleansing breath. Ask God to open your lungs and help you breathe more fully. Try to exhale all the preconceived notions you may hold about those “other” Christian denominations; open yourself to what God wants you to learn from them. I hope by doing so we will begin to discover the beautiful diversity of God’s family, and the unity we all share in Christ, and that this helps us each appreciate our unique place on Christianity’s family tree all the more. As we inhale deeply, I pray that the Holy Spirit will breathe life into us again, transforming our desolate valleys of dry bones, where the stench of death and despair abound, into places teeming with life and hope that carry the sweet and unmistakable aroma of Christ to all the world around us.

Can these bones live again? With God’s help and by God’s grace let it be so…

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[1] I borrow this terminology from Pope John Paul II (see quote at top of the article) who actually put forth considerable effort during his tenure as leader of the Roman Catholic Church to heal the centuries-long breach between the Catholic and Orthodox Churches that has existed since the Great Schism of 1054 AD.

[2] Differences between East and West have been present since the very beginning, but became exacerbated after the fall of Rome in ~476 AD and climaxed with formal separation between East and West in 1054 AD.

[3] See Ezekiel 37:1-14 for the story of Ezekiel and the Valley of Dry Bones.

[4] To be clear I believe God’s Church will go on, but I think many local churches will not survive as presently constituted. To frame this more positively, when the “dry bones” come to life, the walls of our existing churches won’t be able to contain them. “Church” is perhaps returning to its roots; it is less about a place we go and more about a life we live…

[5] Orthodoxy means correct belief. In this context, I refer to what we believe and why, and how those beliefs shape our perception of God. The term generous orthodoxy—from Brian McLaren’s book A Generous Orthodoxy—is just another way of suggesting that exposure to the beliefs and practices of other Christian denominations—and maybe even other religions—doesn’t have to be a threat to our identity, but rather can help enrich us, broaden our perspective of God, and give us a better appreciation of our unique identity.

Holy Week Reflection

Drinking Our Cup With Jesus

By Alan B. Ward

 

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  —Hebrews 12:2

 

One morning recently I had my arms outstretched asking for God's presence to fall upon me as I began a time of prayer and meditation. After a few moments, I realized my arms were getting tired, and I dropped them to my side.  As I did so I caught my reflection in a nearby mirror. It struck me that the posture I was in with my arms outstretched resembled how Jesus is often depicted hanging on the cross. 

 

Of course, any resemblance between Jesus and me in that moment was probably purely coincidental. Unlike me, alone with God in my warm comfortable living room that morning, Jesus was hanging naked and humiliated on a Roman Cross for all the world to see.  He had been nailed there after having been tortured and beaten by the soldiers. He couldn't drop his arms the second he got tired as I did.  He had to "hold that posture" until his entire body collapsed beneath him in agonizing pain.  

 

We Christians believe Jesus was God incarnate.  If that's true then Jesus could have "dropped his arms" the moment things got uncomfortable like I did.  Scripture even says he could have done just that.  He could have climbed down off the cross at any time, and walked away, and that would have been the end of it—but he chose not to.  Jesus had a calling (or God-given purpose) to fulfill, and he realized that he couldn't fulfill that calling unless he first endured the pain of the cross.  As Paul says to the Philippians:  he became obedient to death, even death on a cross… and because he did, the world as we know it was forever changed.

 

In the face of the realization of how much pain Jesus endured, I am humbled.  I realize that, in general, I am rather soft when it comes to doing things that make me uncomfortable.  The moment I become uncomfortable I start to back off, disengage, play it safe.   And of course I am not so much talking about my workout at the gym here. No, I'm more specifically thinking about emotional or spiritual discomfort.  I tend to avoid the difficult conversation with my spouse or my friend for fear of it being awkward and uncomfortable for us—and by us, I mostly mean me.  I refuse to go with God into the dark places within my heart for fear of the pain and discomfort that might be unearthed—even though I might find healing and wholeness if I do.

 

My prayer time continued and I found myself on my knees.  Once again my posture evoked memories of Jesus.  This time I think of him praying in the Garden of Gethsemane just moments before his arrest.  The Synoptic Gospels (especially Mark 14:32-42) paint a picture of a very human Jesus who seemed uncomfortable accepting his calling, saying: "Lord if it is possible let this cup pass from me, but not my will but yours be done."  Luke even goes so far to say these Jesus cried tears of blood as he prayed and came to terms with his fate.  (Whether the tears of blood were literal or not can be debated, but the point I believe Luke makes is that even though it was what Jesus was called to do, submitting to death on the cross was still a very hard choice for him to make.) 

 

Somehow as I read about how Jesus struggled to accept his fate at Gethsemane, I feel encouraged and lifted in my own journey.  If Jesus, who was fully God but also fully human, struggled to drink the cup that was his to drink, then we shouldn't be surprised when we struggle to drink whatever cups are ours to drink.  

 

I also take comfort in knowing that it's okay to be uncomfortable with accepting God's calling on your life.  You don't have to do it all at once; you can live into it over time the way Jesus did.  However, if we wish to fulfill our calling the way Christ fulfilled his through his death and resurrection, then we must ultimately be willing to follow Jesus' footsteps and pass through death to resurrection ourselves.  We may not have to literally die as Jesus did, but we each have a unique cup to drink on our journey.  Along the way, we may have to come face-to-face with some very deep and longstanding pain in our lives or we might have to confront an addiction or idol that prevents us from giving our full attention to God.  Indeed cups come in many shapes and sizes.

 

As I continued on my knees I heard God ask: What cups are you avoiding drinking right now, Alan?  Now, when God asks us a more personal question like this, our natural tendency will be to push it aside until "later" hoping it will go away and leave us alone.  Resist this temptation! Enter into this question now, and be wiling to stay with it until you get some answers.

 

I suspect the cup that I wish to avoid drinking has something to do with the loss of my daughter two years ago.  On one level I feel I have experienced quite a bit of healing from the event itself, but on another level, the loss of Hope unearthed deeper wounds I received as a child that profoundly shaped the individual I became.  Entering these deeper wounds is not easy; I avoid "going there".  And yet I sense that the healing and wholeness I long for can only be found by "going there" with Jesus. 

 

Whatever cup God may be calling you do drink before you can take the next step toward living out your calling, the example of Christ shows us that you can in fact drink it.  It probably won't be easy or pain-free and it will likely taste bitter going down but Jesus' example shows that God goes with us to help us drink it.  And as we drink our cup with Jesus there is a promise we can cling to: the bitter and sour wine of Good Friday will be transformed to the sweetest nectar we have ever tasted come Easter morning—while weeping may last for a night [or two], joy comes in the morning.

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A Blessed Sunday to you all...

As we are home this morning due to God blanketing the earth with snow, I would like to share with you my sermon and a short worship outline for you to follow as a way to give thanks to God this 4th Sunday of Advent.

Call to Worship:

In every heart there lies a Bethlehem, a place where light shines with tender memories, a place where angelic voices are clearer, a place of wonder and awe, delight and calm, a place where the humility of shepherds and the wisdom of Magi embrace. In my heart, I prize my Bethlehem moments and this day I come to Bethlehem, kneeling in wonder. I come to worship with songs of praise.

Scripture:

Jeremiah 33: 14-16: "'The days are coming,' declares the LORD, 'when I will fulfill the gracious promise I made to the house of Israel and to the house of Judah. "'In those days and at that time I will make a righteous Branch sprout from David's line; he will do what is just and right in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. This is the name by which it will be called: The LORD Our Righteousness.'"

Luke 2:6-7: While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Christmas at the Manger

Rev. Laurie Gates-Ward

December 20, 2009

We have been traveling from the mall to the manger this Christmas season. We have made stops along the way at the mall, the office party and the kitchen table. At the ‘mall’ we were reminded that our ‘presence’ before God and our families is more important than any present we can buy. At the ‘office party’ we were reminded that we are called to respond to God’s invitation to celebrate, to be willing to receive that invitation with joy and appreciation and to share the gifts of Jesus with others. And at the ‘kitchen table’ we were reminded that while our homes may not be perfect Norman Rockwell images, God can dwell in our midst to bring us the kind of joy that the world promises but doesn’t truly understand….a joy that is not about the absence of struggle and sorrow but is about the presence of the Living God.

This day, as we are in our homes, surrounded by God’s beauty all around us, we look to the beauty of the manger. While it may not on the surface seem like a beautiful place, filled with animals and hay, it is in that place that God fulfills God’s promise to the world:

Through todays Old Testament reading from Jeremiah, God had promised the Hebrew people in the midst of their exile that a better day was coming. God promised salvation and a ‘home to dwell’ through the righteousness of the Messiah. It was a promise for all people from the God of all people.

Contrast this with the promises of the ‘retailer’:

•Wal-Mart promises us if we buy more we will live better. (Unless, of course, we get trampled to death buying more).

•A TV commercial Mom says she wants to see her kids doing the ‘present dance’; hyper children ripping and tearing and prancing around piles and piles of dismembered packages.

•Sears proclaims our purchases will fulfill all the ‘dreams’ of others.

•A television commercial promises: “Change your TV . .. Change your life.”

God offers to us a change in life but not from big screen TV’s or piles of presents. Just as God promised the Hebrew people salvation from their exiles through the prophet Isaiah, so God promises us salvation from ours.

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness on them light has shined. 
You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. 
For the yoke of their burden,
and the bar across their shoulders,
the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. —Isaiah 9:2-4

Where are our dark places? What burdens are we carrying? Perhaps we are dealing with one of the following:

• illness
• depression
• loss of job
• loss of ability
• loved one far away
• broken relationship
• troubled marriage
• financial struggles
• the loss of a loved one

No matter what we face this holiday season, we can be renewed in the promise that God’s light indeed shines in the darkness. It was the promise given to the world in a dark manger over 2000 years ago and it is our promise today.

We have the gift of being able to have hope even in darkness…to have hope in a God who does what God promises to do.

Even when we do not understand the how and why, God is faithful.

Nearly three years ago, as Alan and I drove home from the holidays we made the decision to have another child. Brady was a year old, a wonderfully pleasant child and we wanted him to have a sibling. We prayed together as we drove along, Brady snoozing in his carseat, and felt God telling us it was time to begin the journey towards that sibling. As we prayed, I heard God tell me that we would have a daughter. I had always felt that I would have both a son and a daughter but that day I knew that God was promising that it would come to pass.

What I didn’t know was how hard the journey to our daughter would be. We would have to go through a miscarriage, a difficult pregnancy and the traumatic loss of our daughter, Hope, before we could celebrate our precious Rebecca. It was indeed a dark and painful season for us. But I later reflected:

She did not come as I expected…there was more pain than I ever could have imagined. And yet….God kept God’s promise.

Even though we experienced great pain, God kept the promise of giving us another child, a daughter. God gave us not one but two daughters. One would not be ours to keep in this life but would be a constant reminder of the gift of life; the other would be our sweet Rebecca who fills our lives with joy every day. There was much pain en route to Rebecca, but God was faithful to carry us through. This year I knew how faithful God had been when I heard the song All is Well by Michael W. Smith and I as heard the words “All is well, all is well, lift up your voice and sing” I was truly able to sing. In spite of the difficult journey we have faced the last two years, God has overcome so much of the pain of that journey and is allowing us to sing “all is well.”

I suspect that Mary experienced a lot of pain en route to that manger. When the angel told this very young woman that she was pregnant with the Son of God, the Messiah, she no doubt experienced fear. She had risked rejection from Joseph when she told him what God was doing in her most unusual pregnancy. Even after Joseph had accepted what God was giving to him and to Mary, they received news that they would be traveling miles to Bethlehem for the census. This journey was long and they must have felt overwhelmed as they traveled, Mary very close to delivery. When the arrived in Bethlehem, there was no place for them to stay and Mary had begun her labor. There they were, homeless and about to become first time parents. It was anything but a simple journey for them. But God kept God’s promise and I believe that they too felt that "all is well" as they held the Son of God in their arms that night in the manger. Listen to these words from the Prophet Micah:

But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
one who is to rule in Israel,
whose origin is from of old,
from ancient days. Therefore Israel shall be abandoned until the time
when she who is in labor has given birth. —Micah 5:2-3

What do you and I have to overcome to approach the manger this year? Do we have to get beyond the ‘mall’ promises of presents and bows? Perhaps we have to stop rejecting the invitations God is giving us to ‘join the party’ due to our own fears or insecurities. Maybe we need to put aside childish notions of the ‘perfect Christmas table’ with the ‘perfect family’ that never seems to show up come Christmas Day (or any other).

The truth is God is here with you and I in all of our joys and our sorrows. God is here in the midst of our struggles and triumphs. God is here in the bright beautiful moments and in the ‘dirty, dingy’ ones.

The God who came to earth into a small, humble manger comes into our lives and offers the promise of peace, a peace that passes all understanding; a peace that speaks to us saying: “All is well, all is well, yes all is well.” Let us all come to the manger this Christmas week and let that peace infuse our hearts and spirits in a deep way and allow the Christ Child to dwell within us.

In the peace of the Christ, Amen.