“How Does This Birth Story Transform You?” Christmas Eve, 2008

(First read the text for this sermon: Luke 2:1-20)

Ah, the candles! The decorations! The carols!

It is easy for this to become an evening of nostalgia. I remember Christmas Eves past. As a child, I remember the special excitement of singing in the Celeste-Boys Choir. (That was the merger of two choirs from the golden days of the 1940s in that downtown church. The “Celeste Choir” had been for girls. The “Boys Choir” is self-explanatory.) We practiced after school once a week (something that would be absolutely impossible to schedule today). During worship, we wore red cottas and white surplices, with red sashes at the neck. The girls’ sashes were tied in bows; the boys’ in a square knot. We sang throughout the year, of course, but Christmas Eve held special magic for this small child. In our old gothic church building, with the 67-foot center aisle, there were candelabras at the end of each pew, with real candles burning throughout the service. I remember, in later years, getting to be one of the acolytes who got to light all those candles! I remember also, while college-age, spending the early part of Christmas Eve with dear friends of the family, and then going to the 11:00 PM service. What somber majesty – coming out of the church after midnight into the cold darkness of the first hour of Christmas!

You could share your own nostalgic remembrances, couldn’t you? You remember your own childhood traditions, repeated each year. And you who are adults have constructed your own annual Christmas traditions. When this Christmas is “not as good as” last Christmas – because of a death, or because of family members being absent, or because of travel – then the celebration seems diminished.

You recognize the kind of Christmas celebration I’ve been talking about, don’t you? I’ve been treating Christmas as if it is an annual celebration; as if the importance of this feast is that we do it each year, and so this year we have to keep up the traditions we’ve established. Of course, Christmas does come each year (when God gives us another year of life). But there is much more to it than that. There is a hunger that we have brought tonight, a hunger that cannot be satisfied by the effort we put into making “this year’s Christmas” as magical as last year’s was!

And so, I want to use the story we read on Christmas Eve as more than an exercise in nostalgia. This is more to this story than something we simply pull out this time of year, to make us feel warm and fuzzy inside; which we then pack away with the rest of the Christmas ornaments, until we pull it out again next year.

I want to ask: How does this story of Jesus’ birth transform you?

Look at all that’s happening in this story from Luke. Look at the suffering that’s endured. Look at all that’s confusing and amazing and even terrifying. Look at all of the assumptions that are turned completely upside-down.

For instance, there is nothing warm or fuzzy in the fact that Joseph and Mary are two people living in an occupied land, at the mercy of the governing authorities, who are forced to journey away from home for a tax-revenue-driven census, even though Mary is due to give birth any day. Sure enough, we read: While they were there [in Bethlehem], the time came for her to deliver her child. 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. Those words have become beloved to us. But put yourself in Mary and Joseph’s position! How would you feel, having to put your newborn into a feeding trough for animals? This is homelessness at its most impoverished.

The next scene in the story, of course, is out in the fields, where a group of unsuspecting shepherds are keeping the night watch over their sheep. Imagine the scene. Every shadow looks like a sheep-eating predator. There is danger in the darkness. Suddenly: Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid.” (You remember that the first words from angels in the Bible are always “do not be afraid?” In the Bible, angels are always terrifying!)

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: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

Good news? Joy? Is that what it would have seemed like to you – had you been one of those shepherds, out in the field? For myself, I suspect I would have reacted in the same way as I do on those rare occasions when I walk into a Circuit City store: there is so much noise and flashing visual images and lights and movement, that I am nearly immobilized by the sensory overload!

I wonder how long it took the shepherds to recover their wits when the angels had left them and gone into heaven? They finally do. And then they decide to hurry into town, to see if any of this could possibly be true. (Do they just leave their sheep, at the mercy of the wolves, out in the darkness? Just wondering.) When they find Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger, they repeat what they have been told about this child. And do you remember how the listeners react? We read: all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.

“Amazed!” Does amazement mean disbelief? At the very least, what the shepherds are repeating is turning everything upside down. At the very least it’s going to take a great deal of processing – which is what Mary is doing. Remember? But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

If this is simply a story that we pull out this time of year, to make us feel warm and fuzzy inside, then we will only pack it away in a few days, with the rest of the Christmas ornaments, and forget about it until next year. But what does the story do to us, when we truly enter it – this story of God, fleshly present with an unmarried pregnant couple powerless in the face of the ruling authorities, at least temporarily homeless, giving birth and putting the baby in a cattle feeding trough?

In this story, God is calling Mary and Joseph and the shepherds and the bystanders way beyond their comfort zones; way past their assumptions of what is possible and impossible; of how the world works.

What about you? How does this birth story transform you?

For instance, what does this birth story do to you, in the midst of the economic transformation that we’re experiencing as a nation? The never-ending news reports of economic uncertainty have shattered our illusion that we can become secure through material comfort.

And so – could this birth story from Luke transform you and me to see that this shattering is a good thing? Could it be that Christians in Africa and Central and South America are correct about us Americans: that our material comfort makes it difficult for us to be disciples of Jesus? Could it indeed be true that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God"? (Matthew 19:24) These are dangerous things to ask, if we’re only interested in nostalgia on this night.

Tonight we read a birth story of a baby who is to be named Jesus (which means, “God, help!”; or “God saves”), who is born in the midst of utter poverty and in utter dependence. How, then, does this story transform you with the message that God is born, not among people like you and me, but among people who are destitute? And so we would find the Christ child carried tonight by a mother and father who have full-time, minimum wage jobs, but who have to take advantage of the PORT housing shelter in Newport News because the minimum wage does not buy housing. We would find the Christ child carried by mothers who visit the United Way Information and Referral office in Williamsburg for emergency help, because their heat is about to be shut off.

Have I ever told the story of a Christmas Eve: when I had returned to be pastor of that gorgeous downtown gothic church I was talking about earlier – with the 67-foot long aisle and all the candles burning at the ends of the pews – and I was standing in the back with the choir, ready for our magisterial procession, and our organist was making the room shake with that magnificent organ, beginning to play “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful,” when a young woman who occasionally worshiped with us appeared at the very last moment. “Excuse me,” she whispered. “Sorry I’m late. I’ve been working at the homeless shelter.” And she squeezed past to find a seat.

Here’s what I thought to myself: “Why are you apologizing? You should be preaching the sermon tonight!”

Certainly, there is something magical in what we are doing tonight. This is, indeed a joyful celebration in our liturgical calendar!

But I do ask you to pay attention to what is in the story of Jesus’ birth, from the gospel of Luke. It’s a story of God entering into the most hopeless circumstances of poverty and helplessness – to transform those circumstances; to redeem them!

If God can do that, God can transform anything.

So – How does this birth story transform you?

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

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

"Receiving God’s Advent Into Our Lives" Advent 4 December 21, 2008

(First, read the text for this sermon: Luke 1:26-38)

We’re not even half-way through chapter one of the gospel of Luke. And, already, God has done two impossible things!

The first impossible thing will lead to the birth of John the baptizer. In an earlier verse of the gospel, the writer has told us that we are in the days of King Herod (who happens to be as brutal and as ruthless as any ruler in history.) By mentioning Herod’s name, the gospel writer signals that God is going to do something subversive to this ruler, who thinks he’s the one with power!

The first impossible thing begins with the angel Gabriel visiting a priest named Zechariah, who is married to Elizabeth, who is somehow related to Mary, the mother of our Lord. (The gospel writer is not specific about how the two are related, and it really doesn’t matter.)

Do some of you know the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth? An important thing to know about them is that they are old. Just as important, you have to know that they have no children, and, in their culture, that is cause for shame. (The shame is especially intense for the woman, Elizabeth, in that time and place.) Also, you need to know, Zechariah is a priest.

In the story the gospel writer tells, Zechariah is on duty in the sanctuary of the Lord. He is offering the incense, during one of the two daily temple services – and the angel Gabriel appears, right in the midst of the incense. It’s a terrifying experience! We read, When Zechariah saw [the angel], he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said to him, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John.”

(Have you ever noticed that the first thing angels say, when they appear to characters in the Bible, is “Do not be afraid?” Why do you think that is? It’s because they’re so frightening!) So, after Zechariah’s pulse rate and blood pressure drops closer to the normal range, according to Eugene Peterson in The Message, Zechariah responds to the angel using these sacred words: “Do you expect me to believe this? I’m an old man and my wife is an old woman.”

Zechariah, of course, is limiting himself to what he thinks is possible. A woman, years past the hot flashes of menopause, is going to become pregnant? That’s impossible. Right? Zechariah is not open to receiving God’s advent into his life.

Six months later, God is ready to do another impossible thing, and now we’ve gotten to this morning’s reading from the gospel of Luke. God sends the same messenger to deliver the startling news. (I guess that was Gabriel’s specialty, huh?)

In the sixth month (that is, of Elizabeth’s pregnancy) the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.

You, know, I’ve always thought that is one of the great comic lines in the Bible. I wonder how “favored” Mary feels when the angel tells her that she will conceive in her womb and bear a son, and will name him Jesus? Mary, you may remember, is a young girl who is engaged, but not yet married to a man named Joseph. Here’s what that means. Joseph and Mary’s father have reached formal agreement of the marriage, in the presence of witnesses, including the paying of the bride price. Sometime in the next year, Joseph will take Mary from her father’s house into his own, to consummate the marriage.

But that hasn’t happened yet. And the angel tells Mary that she will become pregnant. And here are the relevant verses from the Hebrew law that cover this situation, from Deuteronomy 22: If there is a young woman, a virgin already engaged to be married, and a man meets her in the town and lies with her, you shall bring both of them to the gate of that town and stone them to death, the young woman because she did not cry for help in the town and the man because he violated his neighbor's wife. So you shall purge the evil from your midst.

That’s the punishment in store for this Mary. You and I know that this pregnancy will result because the Holy Spirit will come upon [Mary], and the power of the Most High will overshadow [her]; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. But who, in this little backwater town of Nazareth, would ever believe Mary in a million years, if she tried to claim that that is why she’s pregnant? I mean, come on!

How easy do you think it is, for Mary, to receive God’s advent into her life? What the angel Gabriel is telling her is, simply, impossible, right?

The angel tells Mary, “For nothing will be impossible with God.” But some of you have heard me say before: I wonder how long the pause is – after those words from the angel Gabriel, and Mary’s response? When you study the text later, I wonder how long the pause is between verse 37 and verse 38? How much time did it take for this impoverished young girl – entirely without power; entirely vulnerable (“perplexed” nothing; terrified!) – to process all that is going on, and to finally speak these words: "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

Mary receives God’s advent into her life.

Do you watch for God’s advent into your life? Admittedly, this will not be as dramatic (probably!) as what Zechariah and Mary experienced. But God’s advent into your life happens with some frequency, when you’re watching for it; when you’re open to receiving that advent.

It could be that you and I are most open during those experiences of wilderness; those times when we’re out of control; when we’re lost, and the old map doesn’t work.

Have you had the experience of being opened to God’s advent through an event especially traumatic? Or, have you perceived God’s entering into an unusually joyous occasion? Have other people acted as spiritual guides, helping you gain clarity about what the Spirit is doing?

One of the things we hear at this time of the year is that “it is better to give than it is to receive” – but, in the context of what we’re into here, that cliché carries a great deal of irony. It is certainly easier to give than to receive – because then we’re in control, right?

But perhaps we are only open to God’s advent into our lives during those times when we let go of control. (This is a hard thing to do. You know that from your daily experience. You remember that Zechariah was not able to do that!) But, letting go, we turn our attention to this: what is God doing, intimately present as God is during the events of our lives?

In that way, in that openness, you and I cooperate with the Spirit as it is moving. Mary says to the angel Gabriel, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." She’s letting go of her resistance. She’s willing to play her role in what God is doing.

Here’s a topic for your Advent prayer, during these last days of preparation for the Christmas feast: Where is God entering in?

Your prayer would be to ask that question. And then: to listen.

What is the work God is calling you to do, in God’s continuing effort to bring the kingdom on earth, as it is in heaven? How are you receiving God’s advent into your life?

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

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

I Cannot Receive God If It’s All About Me. Can You? Advent 3 December 14, 2008

(First, read the passage for this sermon: 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24)

This past Monday afternoon, I was in the dentist’s chair. A very large filling had cracked, and needed to be replaced. It was so far in the back that the dentist inserted this plastic thing on the other side of my mouth, to lock my jaw open. Then she used that numbing swab on my gum, so I wouldn’t jump through the roof when she inserted the long needle with the Novocain. Then, after the Novocain had had a chance to take effect, she explained how this was a big filling, and that my mouth would be full of water, and then the assistant stuck that suction thing into my mouth, and the dentist started to drill …

The way that I survive experiences like that is to focus my mind on something else. That morning, in fact, I had been working on this morning’s passage from First Thessalonians. And do you know what words came to mind, as the suction was suctioning and the drill was drilling? It was these: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.

In all circumstances? In every situation? Even in the dentist’s chair?

Approximately 15 years after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, St. Paul tells the tiny group of Jesus people, meeting in someone’s house in the mid-size commercial city of Thessalonica: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

What happens when we live this way? Then I don’t think it’s all about me – and you don’t think it’s all about you. Instead, it’s about the blessings that come from God to us each moment of each day. And so – Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

The next morning after the dental chair experience, I was called to the Williamsburg Regional Medical Center, to make a visit. While I was there, I thought I would check on the results of a urinalysis that had been done 13 days previously.

Four months ago, there was still a trace of that fungal infection, histoplasmosis, in my system. Dr. Flenner, in Norfolk, wanted me to have another urinalysis done, hoping the reading would be down to zero. His nurse, Jackie, had faxed me the order, and I had taken it to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving. At the Williamsburg hospital, there was a flurry of concern because there was a code (that was obviously very-important) that was missing from the order for the test, and I sat there and waited while they were on the phone to the Eastern Virginia Medical School Department of Infectious Disease, trying to contact Jackie, so she would fax down an amended order with the code that was needed. After a good wait, they still hadn’t gotten the code. They decided to do the test anyway, figuring they would work it all out later.

But 13 days later, Dr. Flenner’s office in Norfolk had not called with the test results. So, since I was at our local hospital anyway, I figured I would ask about it. I stopped at that desk where you check in to have a test done and I said, “I had a urinalysis done 13 days ago, but my doctor in Norfolk hasn’t contacted me with the results, and there was a problem with the paperwork when I had the test done, so I’d like to be sure that everything worked out. In fact, I’m going to be in Norfolk on Thursday, and if I could have a copy of the results, I can deliver it to my doctor.”

So, the very helpful woman at the check-in desk told me I would have to ask at Medical Records. “Where is Medical Records?” I asked. I followed her directions to the 4th floor.

There, I explained to a very helpful young woman at the Medical Records desk that I had had a urinalysis done 13 days ago, but there had been a problem with the paperwork, and I hadn’t heard from my doctor in Norfolk that they had received the results, and … (I don’t have to go through my whole spiel again, do I?) So the very helpful young woman asked me for my name and Social Security number and typed into her computer and waited for the screen to come up and said, “Yes, the results are back. But we can’t read them. For that, you’ll have to go down to the desk where you checked in to have the test done.”

So I went back down to the desk where I had checked in to have the test done, and explained that, “at Medical Records, they were able to tell me that the results were back, but that they couldn’t give them to me, and that I had to check back with you.” This time, both of the very helpful women at the desk conferred with each other. “Well, we wouldn’t have those results down here,” one said. “You’ll have to check upstairs in the lab.” “Ah,” I said. “Where is the lab, please?” She told me where it was on the 2nd floor. I went up there.

I found that the door to the lab is a secure entry. So I went over and asked the very helpful volunteer who is at the desk for the surgical waiting room if she knew how I could get into the lab. She said, “I can’t believe they would send you up here, but not tell you how to get in!” And she had a magic card to swipe in front of the little security box, and that released the door, and I walked through.
But there was no receptionist’s desk. There were several confusing hallways. There were lots of closed doors. A lab technician happened to be walking by, and I explained to her that I had had a urinalysis done 13 days ago, but there had been a problem with the paperwork, and I hadn’t heard from my doctor in Norfolk that they had received the results, and … She tried her best to be very helpful. But she was stumped. She explained that this area was actually off-limits to the public, and that there wasn’t a place where I could simply ask for lab results. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “if you go down to the desk where you checked in to have the test done, and got a specific name of someone up here in the lab, that person could give you the results.”

I went back down to the ground floor – and, this time, I just kept walking out the front door. I know I am defeated! I left a voice message telling Dr. Flenner’s nurse, Jackie: “I have found out that the results are back here in Williamsburg. Have they been faxed to you?” (That alerted her to get after them to send her the results.)

Have you ever had experiences like this? Here is how we are to respond: Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. In all circumstances! In every situation!

Is it possible to live his way? Only when we are transformed by God the Holy Spirit, so I am formed to know that it’s not all about me, and you are formed to know that it’s not all about you. Indeed, as this is happening, the Spirit is making us holy! Hear Paul’s prayer again, from a couple of verses later in the passage: May the God of peace himself sanctify you entirely.

It’s all about God. It’s all about the blessings that come from God to us each moment of each day.

But I can’t receive God if it’s all about me. Can you? Can you receive such a joyful spirit? Indeed, my examples of being in the dentist’s chair and exploring three out of the four floors of the Williamsburg Regional Medical Center are trivial, compared with true life-and-death situations of suffering that you and I and our loved ones have experienced. And those first ones who heard Paul’s letter read, those first-century Thessalonians? They were encountering daily hostility because their worship of Jesus was considered subversive not only to the Jews, and not only to the Roman official religions, but also to the various Gentile religions of the day. (The bewildering mix of religions was very similar to our own age.)

But, still: God the Holy Spirit was forming the Thessalonians into a counter-culture, marked by rejoicing and prayer and giving thanks in all circumstances. And this tiny congregation is a model for you and me, in this community. God the Holy Spirit is forming you and me in the same ways.

During this holy season of Advent, we are especially reminded to be on the watch for the coming of God’s ultimate fulfillment to history. When you and I are opened by the Spirit to God’s advent, then that same Spirit forms us to rejoice always, and to pray without ceasing, and to give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God for you and me.

In other words, it turns out that it’s not all about me. It’s not even all about you!

Thank God for that! Thank God for the permission to let go of all that anxiety; and simply to be open to the blessings of God; to receive.

In the name of that God of grace who is Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia

Beware False Comfort Second Sunday Of Advent December 7, 2008

(First, read the passages for this sermon: Isaiah 40:1-11 and Mark 1:1-8)

The prophet speaks:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.

Doesn’t that sound wonderful? After the hassle of a Christmas shopping trip to the Prime Outlets, winding around for 15 minutes trying to find a parking place, and then elbowing other shoppers out of the way to get to the items you want, the prophet is describing the comfort of finally being able to plop down in the La-Z-Boy with a cup of hot chocolate, right?

Well, of course not!

In fact: beware false comfort. That’s the comfort of that soothing, Manhattan Transfer Christmas CD that you listen to at this time of year, hoping that that smooth-jazz will cover up the profound discomfort. You know what that is, don’t you? I’m talking about those stubborn fears and anxieties and grief that cause discomfort, and cannot be covered up – no matter how much money you spend, or how many cookies you bake, or how hard you work to try to make this “the best Christmas ever.”

You know what I mean, right? Then you know about your own experiences in the wilderness, to use the metaphor in this morning’s readings.

But look! In the wilderness, we encounter God! That’s where God’s voice is making itself heard, in this morning’s reading from Isaiah, which is then quoted by the gospel writer of Mark, to tie in John the baptizer. John is out there in the wilderness, too.

Remember what we hear from Isaiah:

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”

And where is John the baptizer? John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

Here’s the thing. The wilderness is a frightening place. The wilderness is where we’re out of control, where we can’t cover u our fears and anxieties and grief. You know what that’s like, right?

Let me tell a funny story. Years ago, I planned a Confirmation retreat. The only weekend that was available at the retreat center was the weekend of Halloween. And the kids were very upset that they wouldn’t be able to be at home, and at Halloween parties with their friends. So I promised them we’d have fun with the occasion.

I went to the library and got a scary movie. Actually, it was kind of disappointing, because it wasn’t really very scary. But I watched the movie the afternoon before we went on the retreat, and learned where all the supposedly-scary scenes occurred. So, that night, when we turned off all the lights in the cabin to watch the movie, whenever something was about to happen on the screen, I was able to scream, “AHHHH!!!” – which made all the kids jump a foot. (That made it a much better movie.)

And then we went out to the cemetery. (You see, driving through the woods to the retreat center, I had noticed a small cemetery about a quarter mile down the narrow country road.) Boy was it dark after we finished watching the movie! As we made our way down the road, these previously-very cool 13 and 14 year-olds were clinging to each other. One boy literally buried his face in the back of my sweatshirt as we walked along, balling up the sweatshirt fabric in his fists. (Have no fear. There was no lasting damage. He grew up to be six-foot-four, and, believe it or not, became a forest ranger!)

What is wilderness for you? What is it that causes you to hide your face in someone else’s sweatshirt?

I remember one woman who was frightened into immobility by the wilderness. She refused to talk about what she was feeling following the death of her husband. “If I talk about it, it’s just too painful,” she said. She tried to pretend that she was not in wilderness. She tried to cover up what was there. Will that work for her, do you think?

The prophet speaks:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.

And that sounds a theme of Advent: the comfort from God that we long for, that we hope for.

But I do not think you and I can be open to anything deeper than false comfort –unless we are eyes-wide-open during our experiences of wilderness.

For God’s people who were hearing the prophet Isaiah approximately 2,600 years ago, the wilderness was their destruction as a nation, their scattering, their exile at the hands of the Babylonians. The Babylonians had even demolished the temple in Jerusalem. That meant that all of the people’s assumptions – of where God was present, and how they were to worship God, and whether God would protect them – all of those religious underpinnings were in ruins, too. The people were in wilderness. They were starting from absolute scratch.

Where does the prophet promise that God will enter? It is precisely into that wilderness:

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken."

And then, later in these verses, we read this tender description:

[The Lord] will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

This is no false comfort. This is the comfort of encountering God in the most frightening, the most out-of-control aspects of life; and depending upon God, as a lamb does in the arms of a shepherd.

Where are those wilderness places for you? When you’ve been in an ICU bed – or in the chair next to the ICU bed? When you’ve been dealing with chronic pain? When you’ve been meeting with the funeral director? When you’ve been under fire on the battlefield? When you’ve been watching your retirement savings? When you’ve been sitting in the courtroom with your son?

Are you in wilderness this morning?

It is striking to notice, in the verses we read from Mark, that John the baptizer is out in the wilderness. He is far away from the city. That is where life is ordered and civilized and governed. In fact, John the baptizer is kind of a scary figure! But what do the people do? We read, And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. There’s a hunger here. They are all drawn out into the wilderness.

So, too, for you and me. There come those times when we simply cannot cover up with false comfort those stubborn fears and anxieties and grief. Then God the Holy Spirit has an opportunity to come into our flesh and blood with the true comfort of the Word made flesh.

Could these weeks of Advent be an opportunity for you to be honest about those fears and anxieties and grief in your lives? Indeed, I wonder if an image of the church is in that description I gave of those 13 and 14-year olds, making their way out to the cemetery in the utterly dark woods: that we are clinging to each other, not letting go of each other – entering into the wilderness to encounter God.

Remember that Advent is not ultimately about the coming of sweet little Jesus boy. The importance of Advent is not found in the cyclical, annual repetition of Christmas. Since God has come into our human flesh through Jesus the Christ, this season of Advent is about being on the watch for the coming of God’s ultimate fulfillment to history. When you and I are in the wilderness, we know our need for that fulfillment.

And so, God the Holy Spirit uses Advent to invite us to be transformed – to receive a celebration of Christmas that will draw us into the true comfort of the incarnation, of God in our human flesh. Nothing covered up. Every need and desire and longing honestly named.

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

Pastor Andy Ballentine
St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Williamsburg, Virginia