Isaiah 61:1-4; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28
December 17, 2017
© 2017
I.
Advent is a season of ambivalence as Rachel and Peter made so clear with their
creative, humorous approach last week. While our society rushes around in a
frenzy, we wait for a hidden hope to be revealed. Advent acknowledges our human pain and cries
to God for intervention that brings wholeness to obvious brokenness.
A.
I understand the Eash-Scotts host a “longest night” service on the
winter solstice. Building on that ancient Celtic tradition, for several years I
have led the churches I have served in a service the first Sunday night of
Advent that I called “Give God Your Holiday Blues.” It gave people opportunity
to express their feelings that seemed at odds with the seasonal celebrations.
Sometimes grieving a recent death or struggling with sickness or a personal
crisis. One of the most memorable was when 35 year old Christopher Clifton, who
had been struggling with brain cancer for several years, lit a candle and said
“I have just been told I have six weeks left to breathe. Whether it is six
days, six weeks, six months, or six years, I want them to be for Jesus.”
B.
Simon and Garfunkel’s 1966 song Silent
Night/7 O’clock News, captures this Advent incongruity. That it took so
little creativity to do so speaks to what we all feel. Play
CD. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8d5C8kPlJA
II.
We sang My Soul Cries Out (Sing the Story, 124) which each verse of anticipation is answered with the
refrain in hopes that “the world is about to turn.” The scriptures we have been
reading through Advent
acknowledge our human pain and cry to God for intervention that brings
wholeness to obvious brokenness.
A.
Isaiah 64:1 cries out to God “O that you would tear open the heavens
and come down.”
B.
Isaiah 61:2 proclaims “the day of vengeance of our God.”
C.
Quoting Isaiah 40:3,6-7, John 1:23 announces John the Baptist’s
ministry of baptism for repentance as “making straight the way of the Lord.”
III. When we sang My Soul Cries
Out at the hymn sing a few weeks ago,
repeating “the world is about to turn” evoked both longing and frustration in
me. How could I believe that “the world is about to turn” toward peace and
justice, righteousness and mercy with all that is happening right now? I was
ready for Advent
to acknowledge our human pain and cry to God for intervention that brings
wholeness to obvious brokenness. But I still am having trouble getting hold of
it.
A.
Since moving into our duplex, Candy and I have been listening to music
from the 60s and 70s, the early days of our relationship: Peter, Paul and Mary;
John Denver; Joan Baez; Simon and Garfunkel. We enjoy it, but I feel a deep
sadness, that what so many of us worked for seems to have been washed away, and
the world has regressed.
1.
I wasn’t a wild radical but did march and write hoping to end the war
in Viet Nam, and I requested conscientious objector status from my draft board.
2.
I continued to support civil rights efforts, participating in an open
housing process when we lived in Carol Stream, Illinois. I engaged with
homeless people when we were in Mt. Holly, New Jersey, even standing in
solidarity with homeless people who had pitched a tent city on the county
courthouse lawn and attending the court proceedings.
3.
I won’t say much about this, but the recent flood of news of sexual
misconduct by public figures has stirred up painful memories of having to deal
with a number of cases of such cases involving clergy colleagues, some even
good friends.
B.
Needless to say, the current news has me asking which way the world is
about to turn: toward peace and justice, righteousness and mercy, or toward
deeper corruption?
1.
Violence and war are ubiquitous: as though more violence will address
the threats from North Korea, Iran, Isis; as though more guns will protect us
from crime and mass murder.
2.
Regardless of the politics and economics of what emerges from tax and
health care reform, the way it is playing out generates the anxiety of
uncertainty for those who depend on things like Medicare, including Candy and
me.
3.
Scandals of money, sex, and power are hardly new, but it feels like a
dam has burst, and asking if there will be any men left in public roles seems
reasonable.
IV. So yes, Advent acknowledges our human pain and
cries to God for intervention that brings wholeness to obvious brokenness. As
discomforting as appearances may be, Advent doesn’t leave us in despair but
offers some secure anchors that we can depend on to hold in this storm. Advent shifts
our focus from the distresses we’d rather ignore during the holidays to a
reliable hope for wholeness.
A.
The anchor has been a Christian symbol of hope for centuries. The small
ships of ancient times needed a way to weather sudden violent storms. The
anchor was not used in the harbor, but in open water it was lowered from the
bow of the ship to keep the prow pointing directly into the wind of the storm.
That way the ship could ride up and down with the waves without rolling and
capsizing. But when the anchor was doing its job, it was unseen, deep below the
water’s surface. The security of the Advent anchor keeps us facing directly
into the storm.
B.
I don’t think Advent is a formula for easy comfort, but the scriptures
we have been reading are like the unseen anchors that can keep us stable in the
midst of our current turmoil, facing directly into the storm. They guide us to
the wholeness we desperately crave and need.
1.
Isaiah 40:1 introduces the section that was apparently written for
Judah when they were carried into captivity in Babylon. In the worst crisis of
their history, God said, “Comfort, O comfort my people.”
2.
When we are impatient for the world to turn toward peace and justice,
righteousness and mercy, 2 Peter 3:15 reminds us to regard God’s patience as
salvation, not as permitting evil to thrive.
3.
Isaiah 61:1 pointed ahead to Jesus’ mission that has been passed on to
us because, the Spirit of the Lord God is upon us, because the Lord has
anointed us; he has sent us to bring good news to the oppressed, and bind up
the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the
prisoners.
4.
1 Thessalonians 5:23 assures us that the God of peace will sanctify us
entirely, so we may be blameless.
5.
As we read in John 1:23, John the Baptist still calls us to “make
straight the way of the Lord,” in our own time and place.
Benediction from 1 Thessalonians 5:23-25
May the God
of peace sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept
sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls
you is faithful, and will do this.
