A Sermon for the Second Sunday in Advent
December 9, 2006
Pastor Laura Gentry
Isaiah 11:1-10
A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
Every single Sunday as we worship, we pray the Lord’s prayer. And every time we say it, we recite the lines:
"Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven..."
We ask for God’s kingdom to come here. Now. We know that God is love. Where God is, there is hope and life. There is only light with God—there is no darkness at all. In this light, there is peace for all, just as it is in heaven.
And so we pray urgently for this kingdom to come. We know that when this ultimately happens, all that is wrong will be made right. There will not be random violent shootings like the one in the Nebraska mall last week. Injustice will be a thing of the past. There will be no more spam e-mails tricking vulnerable people into making bogus investments. No one would take advantage of the poor and dispossessed. There would not be a third world or even first world—we one world, united for the good of all God’s people.
In this season of Advent, during the darkest time of the calendar year, we light candles on the wreath to show that we still have hope. We have hope in our hearts that this world’s darkness will give way to God’s glorious light. We long for God’s kingdom to come and we believe that it IS coming!
Today, we heard the voice of John the Baptist in our Gospel reading. He comes with boldness, even rudeness, proclaiming that we all must repent of our ways. We have not been working for God’s kingdom to come as we ought. We have turned away from the hope our faith gives to us and instead embraced hopelessness. This cannot go on! The voice of the Baptizer rings down through the years and calls us again to repent for the kingdom of God is near. Though this is a demanding call, it is an exciting one. It is good news that the kingdom is near and we should be prepared to do anything necessary in order to hasten it.
We also heard from the prophet Isaiah in our Advent scriptures today. He paints a beautiful picture of the peace that Christ brings. Listen once again to the poetry of his words and and let the marvelous implications of the scene speak to your heart and mind:
The wolf shall live with the lamb...
the leopard shall lie down with the kid...
the calf and the lion
and the fatling together...
and a little child shall lead them.
The wolf is a terrifying, mortal enemy of the lamb. The lamb is no match for the wolf. A lamb could never escape the brute power of the leopard and a lion would destroy a calf in no time at all. The thought of a child at the center of these images is horrifying. A child is vulnerable and innocent. How fascinating that there is a child in the center of all this danger, providing the leadership.
And Jesus came to fulfill the prophesy—coming as a little baby, weak like you and me. He came as a child to show us the way and to lead us toward that kingdom God desires, where lion and lamb can lay down together in peace.
Jesus said that if we are to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must be like children. I think this means that our inner child is called upon in the business of faith. We must open our hearts as children do to believe—to really believe—that a better world is possible. We are challenged to cast aside our jaded notions, our negative ideas like “there’s always been war, there always will be war, that’s just how it is.” No, we are called upon to use our childlike hopefulness and place our trust in the Christ child.
As we continue our journey through these days of preparation for the celebration of the coming of the babe of Bethlehem, our hearts, along with the hearts of God's people of every time and place long for the time when God will make all things right. We are joined in hope and expectation for the time Isaiah's words express the voice of God, "They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea."
But here is the catch: We have gathered here today not just to long for the coming of the kingdom of God, not simply to pray for the coming of that kingdom not just to sing the great Advent hymns about that fabulous kingdom to come, we are called to work for it’s appearance. We are the children of God and therefore ambassadors from that kingdom. We live here in this broken world, but our real citizenship is in the kingdom. We must heed John’s call to repentance so that we can turn ourselves around and get busy with the work of turning the world around. That’s our God-given responsibility.
Until Christ comes again to bring about a new and righteous world, we are those who have by faith embraced his coming as the child of Bethlehem and have been formed into the world's visible reminder of the kingdom of God: the Church, the Body of Christ in the world.
We are waiting today for the celebration of the child of Bethlehem. And as the church we wait with Christ to celebrate that day when, as Isaiah prophesied, "The infant will play near the hole of the cobra, and the young child will put his hand into the viper's nest." Advent and Christmas are for us, the promise of that God's kingdom will come indeed!
And now, may the peace which passes all understanding keep our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
© 2007 Laura E. Gentry
Showing posts with label advent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advent. Show all posts
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Sunday, December 24, 2006
WHAT TO DO WITH A BLESSING
A Sermon for the fourth Sunday of Advent
December 24, 2006
Pastor Laura Gentry
Luke 1:47-55
My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever." (New Revised Standard Version)
Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
At last, we have come to the fourth Sunday in Advent. Our beautiful wreath is almost entirely aglow and we know this evening, we’ll get to light the Christ candle in the middle. The Advent wreath is a powerful symbol of God’s light illuminating the world’s deep darkness. And how as Christmas gets nearer, the light burns brighter.
This is a powerful symbol precisely because we know darkness. We know it all too well. Even this time of year, which is supposed to be so happy, is a dark, painful and depressing time for many. The the stress of the season shows on most everyone’s face: worn from all the shopping and wrapping and baking.
But that’s not all. Darkness pervades throughout the earth, especially in warn-torn regions like the Holy Land. In the little town of Bethlehem—the very place our Savior’s was born—there is no peace. We also think of US soldiers, like Josh Estebo, in Iraq who are not only in harm’s way, but they cannot come home for Christmas. The death toll of Iraqis is countless and US soldier loss is nearing 3,000. There are so many conflicts around the globe. In fact, there are 15 major armed conflicts at present.
With all of these things on top of whatever burdens we’re already bearing, it doesn’t necessarily make us feel in the Christmas Spirit, does it? We talk of Christmas being a blessing to all of us—that we are blessed with the gift of the Christ child. But how do we rejoice in this gift when we don’t feel particularly blessed in this moment?
And just what does “blessing” really mean? Most people think of blessing as God answering our prayers with what exactly we asked for, when we ask for it. That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? We pray to God for something, and “poof!” God provides it. It’s almost like God should be wearing a red velvet suit with white fur trim, carrying a cosmic sack full of goodies for nice little Christians. Being showered with the goodies of life would be a great way for us to know we are on God’s “nice” list instead of the “naughty” one.
Yet if we dig into our Gospel text for today, we get a different picture of what a blessing is. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is—we must not forget—an unmarried, pregnant teenager. She certainly didn’t ask God for this. Nowhere in Scripture do we hear her prayer to God to be pregnant, to bear the Messiah. God chose this for her. This predicament was not just embarrassing and inconvenient, it could have gotten her stoned to death. That was the law of her time, and if her fianc?, Joseph, didn’t believe her angel story and turned her in to the religious authorities, she would be as good as dead.
Maybe that’s why Mary dashed out of town to visit her older, wiser cousin Elizabeth, who was also dealing with an unexpected pregnancy by the word of God. Maybe together they could come to terms with what it meant to be “blessed women.”
Elizabeth’s blessing wasn’t exactly what we’d expect a blessing to be, either. Sure, it was her prayers answered. For years, she had prayed for a child. She even promised (like Hannah of the book of Samuel) to give the child back to God for service in the Temple, if only God would grant her this request. Years went by, decades went by; and Elizabeth got used to the fact that she wasn’t going to have children. She got used to the fact that God doesn’t always dish out blessings, no matter how hard we pray for them. Sometimes, God seems horribly silent in the midst of our pain. If Elizabeth had learned to live with God’s silence, she could live through anything. And now, in her old age, when her time for childbearing and child rearing was way past, she had to learn how to live with answered prayers and blessing so long overdue. She, like Mary, had to learn to live with unexpected blessing.
The angel Gabriel had said to Mary, “Do not be afraid; you will have joy and gladness; you have found favor with God. For nothing will be impossible for God.”
Stunned by the angelic visitation, stunned by the impossible message spoken by Gabriel; stunned by the absurdity of their predicaments, no doubt Mary and Elizabeth asked what it means to be “blessed.” How can something be a blessing when it raises more questions than it answers? How do you live with a blessing that creates more problems than it solves? Mary and Elizabeth, no doubt, felt contradictory emotions. Pregnancy alone does that to women. But the strangeness of their pregnancies surely flooded them with expectations and apprehension; happiness and depression; confidence and nagging insecurities; hopes and fears. Elizabeth was old enough and wise enough to know (as Luke writes in Ch. 12) that those “to whom much is given, much is required.” Together, these two women grappled with the irony of being blessed by God: namely, that behind every blessing there is burden.
Both these women were to learn that the sons they were blessed with, were not their own. Both their sons would give up their lives, literally, in service to God. Both mothers would suffer the unimaginable and unspeakable horror of having their sons murdered. Mary, we’re told, witnessed her son’s brutal execution. This is the burden on the other side of blessing.
Indeed, the blessings these women received had burden. They had been given much, and so much was required of them. For them, the meaning of God’s blessing had much more depth than a “Santa Claus” idea of God showering us with goodies. God’s activity in human lives always is surprising; turning up where we’d least expect it; where we’d never think to look for it. God turns the world upside down, making us think again about what’s important, what’s real, what’s valuable.
So here is the interesting thing: if God’s blessings are two-sided (both joy and burden, requiring much from those to whom they are given) then perhaps the opposite is also true: those burdens that come our way in life have the hidden and surprising potential of becoming blessing. If we struggle with our burdens and refuse to let go of them until we receive a blessing—as Jacob did when he wrestled the angel—perhaps our upside-down God will turn our burdens over, in God’s time, and bring good out of them.
As Saint Paul writes, “In all things, God works together for good for those who believe, who are called according to God’s purpose.” That’s why Paul gave this instruction to the Christians in Thessalonia: “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances.” It may not be easy, but because we know God is God and God is always at work for our good, despite the darkness of the world, we can rejoice always. We can hold onto hope. That’s what the Christmas message is all about.
This reminds me of a poem by Jan L. Richardson from her book "Night Visions: Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas":
With each of our breakings you break,
and with each of our woundings your own wounds grow deeper.
Yet you hold the pieces together
till we learn to make the new connections,
and you guard each throbbing wound
till we have had enough of pain.
You remind us that it is our delight you seek, not our suffering.
And you tell us it is not the wounds that give us life,
but the tending of them in each other.
And you say it is not the breaking that makes us whole
but the mending of the pieces that brings us life anew.
As the season of Advent comes to a close, we prepare our hearts to receive the blessing of the Christ child. God has blessed us richly in this shocking birth of low estate. In it, God turns the world upside down. We must open our eyes and ears to look for God being borne in unexpected places. What is required of us is that we open our hearts to receive the both the burden that comes along with our blessings as well as the blessing that comes along with our burdens, laying them all—as Mary and Elizabeth did—in the hands of our all-powerful God. Amen.
Now, may the peace of God, which passes all understand, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
© Laura E. Gentry 2006
December 24, 2006
Pastor Laura Gentry
Luke 1:47-55
My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever." (New Revised Standard Version)
Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
At last, we have come to the fourth Sunday in Advent. Our beautiful wreath is almost entirely aglow and we know this evening, we’ll get to light the Christ candle in the middle. The Advent wreath is a powerful symbol of God’s light illuminating the world’s deep darkness. And how as Christmas gets nearer, the light burns brighter.
This is a powerful symbol precisely because we know darkness. We know it all too well. Even this time of year, which is supposed to be so happy, is a dark, painful and depressing time for many. The the stress of the season shows on most everyone’s face: worn from all the shopping and wrapping and baking.
But that’s not all. Darkness pervades throughout the earth, especially in warn-torn regions like the Holy Land. In the little town of Bethlehem—the very place our Savior’s was born—there is no peace. We also think of US soldiers, like Josh Estebo, in Iraq who are not only in harm’s way, but they cannot come home for Christmas. The death toll of Iraqis is countless and US soldier loss is nearing 3,000. There are so many conflicts around the globe. In fact, there are 15 major armed conflicts at present.
With all of these things on top of whatever burdens we’re already bearing, it doesn’t necessarily make us feel in the Christmas Spirit, does it? We talk of Christmas being a blessing to all of us—that we are blessed with the gift of the Christ child. But how do we rejoice in this gift when we don’t feel particularly blessed in this moment?
And just what does “blessing” really mean? Most people think of blessing as God answering our prayers with what exactly we asked for, when we ask for it. That sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? We pray to God for something, and “poof!” God provides it. It’s almost like God should be wearing a red velvet suit with white fur trim, carrying a cosmic sack full of goodies for nice little Christians. Being showered with the goodies of life would be a great way for us to know we are on God’s “nice” list instead of the “naughty” one.
Yet if we dig into our Gospel text for today, we get a different picture of what a blessing is. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is—we must not forget—an unmarried, pregnant teenager. She certainly didn’t ask God for this. Nowhere in Scripture do we hear her prayer to God to be pregnant, to bear the Messiah. God chose this for her. This predicament was not just embarrassing and inconvenient, it could have gotten her stoned to death. That was the law of her time, and if her fianc?, Joseph, didn’t believe her angel story and turned her in to the religious authorities, she would be as good as dead.
Maybe that’s why Mary dashed out of town to visit her older, wiser cousin Elizabeth, who was also dealing with an unexpected pregnancy by the word of God. Maybe together they could come to terms with what it meant to be “blessed women.”
Elizabeth’s blessing wasn’t exactly what we’d expect a blessing to be, either. Sure, it was her prayers answered. For years, she had prayed for a child. She even promised (like Hannah of the book of Samuel) to give the child back to God for service in the Temple, if only God would grant her this request. Years went by, decades went by; and Elizabeth got used to the fact that she wasn’t going to have children. She got used to the fact that God doesn’t always dish out blessings, no matter how hard we pray for them. Sometimes, God seems horribly silent in the midst of our pain. If Elizabeth had learned to live with God’s silence, she could live through anything. And now, in her old age, when her time for childbearing and child rearing was way past, she had to learn how to live with answered prayers and blessing so long overdue. She, like Mary, had to learn to live with unexpected blessing.
The angel Gabriel had said to Mary, “Do not be afraid; you will have joy and gladness; you have found favor with God. For nothing will be impossible for God.”
Stunned by the angelic visitation, stunned by the impossible message spoken by Gabriel; stunned by the absurdity of their predicaments, no doubt Mary and Elizabeth asked what it means to be “blessed.” How can something be a blessing when it raises more questions than it answers? How do you live with a blessing that creates more problems than it solves? Mary and Elizabeth, no doubt, felt contradictory emotions. Pregnancy alone does that to women. But the strangeness of their pregnancies surely flooded them with expectations and apprehension; happiness and depression; confidence and nagging insecurities; hopes and fears. Elizabeth was old enough and wise enough to know (as Luke writes in Ch. 12) that those “to whom much is given, much is required.” Together, these two women grappled with the irony of being blessed by God: namely, that behind every blessing there is burden.
Both these women were to learn that the sons they were blessed with, were not their own. Both their sons would give up their lives, literally, in service to God. Both mothers would suffer the unimaginable and unspeakable horror of having their sons murdered. Mary, we’re told, witnessed her son’s brutal execution. This is the burden on the other side of blessing.
Indeed, the blessings these women received had burden. They had been given much, and so much was required of them. For them, the meaning of God’s blessing had much more depth than a “Santa Claus” idea of God showering us with goodies. God’s activity in human lives always is surprising; turning up where we’d least expect it; where we’d never think to look for it. God turns the world upside down, making us think again about what’s important, what’s real, what’s valuable.
So here is the interesting thing: if God’s blessings are two-sided (both joy and burden, requiring much from those to whom they are given) then perhaps the opposite is also true: those burdens that come our way in life have the hidden and surprising potential of becoming blessing. If we struggle with our burdens and refuse to let go of them until we receive a blessing—as Jacob did when he wrestled the angel—perhaps our upside-down God will turn our burdens over, in God’s time, and bring good out of them.
As Saint Paul writes, “In all things, God works together for good for those who believe, who are called according to God’s purpose.” That’s why Paul gave this instruction to the Christians in Thessalonia: “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances.” It may not be easy, but because we know God is God and God is always at work for our good, despite the darkness of the world, we can rejoice always. We can hold onto hope. That’s what the Christmas message is all about.
This reminds me of a poem by Jan L. Richardson from her book "Night Visions: Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas":
With each of our breakings you break,
and with each of our woundings your own wounds grow deeper.
Yet you hold the pieces together
till we learn to make the new connections,
and you guard each throbbing wound
till we have had enough of pain.
You remind us that it is our delight you seek, not our suffering.
And you tell us it is not the wounds that give us life,
but the tending of them in each other.
And you say it is not the breaking that makes us whole
but the mending of the pieces that brings us life anew.
As the season of Advent comes to a close, we prepare our hearts to receive the blessing of the Christ child. God has blessed us richly in this shocking birth of low estate. In it, God turns the world upside down. We must open our eyes and ears to look for God being borne in unexpected places. What is required of us is that we open our hearts to receive the both the burden that comes along with our blessings as well as the blessing that comes along with our burdens, laying them all—as Mary and Elizabeth did—in the hands of our all-powerful God. Amen.
Now, may the peace of God, which passes all understand, keep our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.
© Laura E. Gentry 2006
Sunday, December 3, 2006
THROW OUT YOUR CAGES
A Sermon for the first Sunday of Advent
December 3, 2006
Pastor Laura Gentry
Luke 21:25-36
"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. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near." Then he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. 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 Man." (New Revised Standard Version)
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
You can’t fool us. We can read the signs. We know when something is about to happen, like when the sky gets really overcast and we know it is going to rain. Around here, people don’t always signal when they’re going to make a turn with their car. But we can read the signs. We see their head turn right and we know they are about to turn right. There’s no fooling us.
And this time of year, we can tell what’s happening, too. The volume of catalogs we receive quadruples—nearly topping our mailboxes, Main Street is lit with wreathes, and you can’t find a parking spot at the mall. Do you suppose Christmas is coming? Yep, we can read the signs.
Here at church, our Christmas tree shows up, along with our Advent wreath, announcing the beginning of the new church year and the Advent season. Advent means “arrival” and we use this season to prepare ourselves to celebrate the nativity, the first arrival of Christ and to prepare our hearts for his second arrival.
The scripture lesson for today urge us to be alert for this Advent. We see the signs, so we ought to keep awake for Christ’s coming. For when he comes again, our creeds remind us, he will judge the world. We will each be judged. So “being alert” is sort of like preparing for a final exam—the final exam of our whole lives.
How do we prepare? It’s pretty daunting, isn’t it? Because we have to be mindful not only about those wrong things we have done, but also of all the good things we should have done but never got around to. If we take an honest look at our lives, we see that we’re in pretty bad standing for the final exam—that our best preparations have been feeble at best. We are caged by our own unworthiness. Not a very cheery way to start the new church year, is it?
But wait! That’s not the end of the story. At Advent time, we celebrate Christ’s first coming in order to prepare for his second. And how did he come the first time? He came as a vulnerable little baby—just like us. He came gently, quietly. He came to be with us, to walk with us and love us back to life. He came not to condemn the world, but to redeem the world. He came to pass the final exam for us. It is freedom he offers.
Rev. A.J. Gordon was the pastor of the Clarendon Baptist Church in Boston, Massachusetts. One day, he met a young boy in front of the sanctuary carrying an old, rusty cage in which several birds fluttered about. Gordon asked, "Son, where did you get those birds?" The boy replied, "I trapped them out in the field." "What are you going to do with them?" he questioned. "I'm going to play with them, and then I don’t know, maybe I'll just feed them to an old cat we have at home."
When Gordon offered to buy them, the lad exclaimed, "Mister, you don't want them. They're just little old wild birds and can't sing very well." Gordon replied, "I'll give you $2 for the cage and the birds." "Okay, it's a deal, but you're making a bad bargain." The exchange was made and the boy went away whistling, happy with his shiny coins. Gordon walked around to the back of the church, opened the door of the small wire coop, and let the struggling creatures soar into the sky.
The next Sunday he took the empty cage into the pulpit and used it to illustrate his sermon about Christ's Advent, his coming to seek and to save the lost—paying for them with His own precious blood. "That boy told me the birds were not songsters," said Gordon, "but when I released them and they winged their way heavenward, it seemed to me they were singing, 'Redeemed, redeemed, redeemed!'"
This story illustrates the power of what God has done for us in Christ. We celebrate that Christmas is not about judgment, but about redemption. Jesus comes to heal and to forgive us—to set us free. So as we see the signs that his second coming could be at any time, we need not panic. No, in Luke’s gospel, Jesus says to us: “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Yes, this is an exciting time! Our redemption is drawing near.
What does this mean for us? How ought we to live in light of the fact that Christ’s Advent is near? Jesus instructs us: "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.”
Now think for a moment, about the people in your life. Are their hearts weighed down? We live in such a heart-weighed-down world that I’m willing to bet you know a lot of people whose hearts are weighed down with worries of this life both great and small. If you take a close look at your own heart, I’ll bet you’ll notice some weighing-down happening there, too. What’s with that? Why is worry and hurt so widespread when our redemption is so near?
It is because we do not see it. We only see the troubles immediately before us rather than the gift of Christ’s redemption just beyond that. Back to the cage metaphor: it reminds me of the hamster, Eunice, who I used to own. She was single-minded of purpose—to escape. She would sit in the corner and chew on the bars of her cage all day. Eunice was so fixated upon this that when I would come along and open the door, she wouldn’t even notice and would go right on chewing on the bars just inches from the open door. It seems to me that’s exactly what God sees when God peers into our lives. Christ has set us free, but we do not believe it is really for us. We do not believe that we are worthy of such amazing love,. We are afraid of such wonderful freedom. We choose our cages instead. How this must grieve the heart of our God who loves us so—a God who spared nothing to win our freedom!
Today marks the beginning of Advent. And the message of this season is the song of those wild birds: Redeemed! We need to get used to the fact that we’ve been redeemed, my friends. We need to practice living like it is really true. We need to learn to sing the song of freedom every single day of our lives. We are invited to live immersed in grace so that the worries of life cannot weigh us down and the uncertainty of the future cannot scare us. The bottom line is that we must throw out our cages! Christ has conquered them.
So yes, Christ is coming! We see the signs. We know it. But it is nothing to be troubled about. It is incredibly good news. Today, we are invited by the God of love to lift up our heads with hope in joyful anticipation. Our freedom is here. Amen.
© Laura E. Gentry 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
