More Like Jesus: Holy Water and Power Clothes (Mark 1:1-11, Galatians 3:26-28)

The beginning of the good news about Jesus Christ, God’s Son, ² happened just as it was written about in the prophecy of Isaiah:

Look, I am sending my messenger before you.
He will prepare your way, ³ a voice shouting in the wilderness:
        “Prepare the way for the Lord;
        make his paths straight.”

⁴ John the Baptist was in the wilderness calling for people to be baptized to show that they were changing their hearts and lives and wanted God to forgive their sins. ⁵ Everyone in Judea and all the people of Jerusalem went out to the Jordan River and were being baptized by John as they confessed their sins. ⁶ John wore clothes made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He ate locusts and wild honey. ⁷ He announced, “One stronger than I am is coming after me. I’m not even worthy to bend over and loosen the strap of his sandals. ⁸ I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

⁹ About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. ¹⁰ While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. ¹¹ And there was a voice from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.”

²⁶ You are all God’s children through faith in Christ Jesus. ²⁷ All of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. ²⁸ There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

Do you remember what you wanted to be when you grew up?  Who actually became what they wanted to be?  Who actually hasn’t grown up yet?  Perhaps you are grown and you’ve already tried one of your dream careers, and maybe now you’re ready to try another.  Reality is that most people will be and become multiple things throughout their working lives.

Indeed, life itself is a process of becoming, and we are constantly “becoming.”  So long as there is breath in our lungs, there is still more for us to be and become.  We are all inspired by the 85-year-old Grandma who completes her college degree, or the person who loses 300 pounds and goes from being a couch potato to a marathon runner.

I was in seminary in my early 20s, and I had a few classmates who were in their 60s and even 70s, some preparing for a new career in ministry, others there simply for the joy of learning.  Many of them had already had highly-successful careers, and I was struck by the realization that, in a season in life when many are starting to slow down, these folks were getting ready to start a new chapter, out of a distinct sense that God was still working on them.

And friends, far more important than any job is the sense of what sort of person we are and are becoming.  You and I are called to become like Jesus.

Occasionally, someone will buck against that.  “Become like Jesus?” they say.  “But he was so good and perfect and holy and loving, and I’m just not.  I’m so far from that.  I could never be like Jesus.”

But, take a look at the meaning of the word, “Christian.”  It literally means, “mini-Christ,” or “like Christ.”  The book of Acts tells us that the followers of Jesus were first called Christians in the city of Antioch (Acts 11:26), and did you know the word, “Christian” was first used as a slur?  It was used to mock and make fun of the earliest followers of Jesus.  “Look at those people.  They follow Christ so closely, they try to act like Christ, they look like mini-Christs.  Look at those Christians!”

Interestingly enough, a label that first applied from outside the church was soon adopted by those inside to describe ourselves.  “Christian” – mini-Christ, following Jesus so closely that we become like him – yes, that describes what we’re about – yes, we are Christians, and thank you for noticing!

The old adage is that actions speak louder than words.  Don’t tell me you’re a Christian, show me.  Don’t just say, “I’m a Christian,” show me in living a life that’s overflowing with unconditional love and forgiveness and humility and a desire to serve.  In everything we do, we reflect Christ, so that people who don’t even know us should be able to say, “This person is a Christian.”

The great Methodist missionary, E. Stanley Jones, became a good friend of Mahatma Gandhi.  Gandhi was never a Christian, but he incorporated many of the teachings of Jesus into his own.  In one of their conversations, Jones asked, “Though you quote the words of Christ often, why is it that you appear to so adamantly reject becoming a Christian”? Gandhi’s reply was clear: “Oh, I don’t reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It is just that so many of your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

Are you troubled when you see people who call themselves Christians, but don’t act a thing like Jesus?  When I see Christians who are mean and hateful, selfish and stingy, narrow-minded and self-righteous, arrogant and judgmental, I think, “Well, I know I don’t have all my stuff together, but at least I’m not as bad as that person!”  But then another voice says, “Why are you comparing yourself to other Christians?  You should be comparing yourself to Christ.  He’s the one you’re following.”

More troubling than seeing other people who call themselves Christians but don’t act like Jesus are the times I’m convicted that I’m not acting very much like Jesus, myself. 

We don’t act like Jesus so people will think highly of us, it’s simply that being a Christian means being like Christ. We are called to follow Jesus so closely that we become like him.

And that journey of becoming like Jesus begins in the waters of baptism.  When Jesus was baptized, the Holy Spirit appeared as a dove, the voice of God the Father boomed out over the whole scene, saying, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased, in whom I delight, in whom I take great happiness and joy.”

Something similar happens in our baptism.  In that beautiful, grace-filled moment, by water and the Spirit God says about each of one us, “This is my son.  This is my daughter.  This is my child.  This is my beloved.”  In baptism, we receive the family seal of God upon us; God is claiming us as members of the family forever.  The words “Property of God” may as well go across our foreheads in indelible ink, because God is promising to us and proclaiming to the world, “This one belongs to me.”

If you’ve noticed, we don’t use last names when we’re performing a baptism.  We’ll use a person’s first and middle names, but never their family name.  Do you know why?  Because baptism makes us part of the Christian family, and being a part of the Christian family is more determinative than any other part of our identity, even our family of origin.  Baptism gives us a new name – “Christian” – and that name tells us and the world that we belong to Christ and find the truest expression of our identity in him.

Think of it this way.  Where does a North Carolinian live?  In North Carolina.  Where does an American live?  In America.  Where does a Christian live?  In Christ.

We live in Christ!  “In him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).  We are baptized into him and are clothed with him (Galatians 3:27).  It’s like we are wearing Christ.  You can watch award shows on TV, and as people come down the red carpet, one thing they always seem to get asked is, “Who are you wearing?” meaning, “Who designed your clothes?”

If someone were to ask a Christian, “Who are you wearing?”, the answer should always be, “I’m wearing Jesus,” because we have so opened ourselves us to his presence, his love has made itself at home within us, and the more Christlike we are becoming, not in our ability, but through God’s infinite grace.

It all happens through grace.  The Christian faith is first what God does for us in Jesus.  Claims us, makes us part of the family, offers us forgiveness, cleans us up.  But then, it quickly becomes about what does in us.  Indeed, we are always becoming.  When we look around at Christians who don’t act like Jesus, when we ourselves question whether we should or can become like Jesus, I wonder if it has to do with only accepting the part about what God is doing for us, but not also the part about what God is doing in us, which is, of course, to make us more like Jesus.

In baptism, we celebrate both.  It’s where we accept and trust what God has already done for us, and open ourselves to what God will do in us over a lifetime.

Ethel was driving their big sedan down the highway, with Charlie across the car in the passenger seat.  A young couple in a convertible drove by, obviously in love, or possibly in heat, as the woman was practically sitting in the guy’s lap, which was no small feat given the floor shifter.  Charlie looked wistfully at them as they drove past, looked across the car to Ethel, and said, “I remember when we used to be like that.”  Ethel, hands at 10 and 2, never took her eyes from the road and said, “I’m not the one who moved.”

That’s why we don’t re-baptize anyone – because God isn’t the one who moved.  Baptism is more about God than it is about us.  Our promises can be less-than-reliable, but God’s promises are always good.  We don’t need to re-do what God has already gotten right the first time.  We don’t re-baptize anyone because baptism is more about God than it is about us; God isn’t the one who moves.

But, from time-to-time, we do recommit ourselves, remember who we are, and reaffirm the promises we’ve made.  We remember what God has already done for us, and we open ourselves to what God is doing in us.

Maybe we’ve moved further away from God than we first realize, or maybe we’ve never been closer to God.  Maybe we’re not acting much like Jesus, but we’re committed to doing better.  No matter where you are on that spectrum, today is a day to recommit yourself to God, to thank God and be renewed and refreshed in the grace that claimed you as God’s beloved child in baptism.

Perhaps you are here this morning and you’ve never been baptized.  If so, then I want to talk to you after the service, so we can talk about baptism, and you can have the opportunity to experience the wonderful gift of God’s grace in baptism.

If you have been baptized, today you’ll have an opportunity to remember your baptism, recall the promises God made to you in these waters and the promises you made in response, and recommit yourself, with the help of God’s grace, to living like Jesus.

In a few moments, we will reaffirm our baptism.  You’ll notice I’m asking the same vows that were taken at your baptism, and today is a chance to recommit ourselves to them.  Then, anyone who desires renewal of soul is welcome to come to the front, where I will touch the water, make the sign of the cross on your forehead, and invite you to remember your baptism and be thankful.

When it comes to what we’ll be when we grow up, there’s a lot of ways we can answer that.  But, as Christians, we’ve been to the water and we’re clothed with Christ.  What do we want to be?  Let’s be like Jesus.

Chasing the Light (Matthew 2:1-12, Epiphany of our Lord)

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in the territory of Judea during the rule of King Herod, magi came from the east to Jerusalem.  They asked, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews?  We’ve seen his star in the east, and we’ve come to honor him.”

When Herod heard this, he was troubled, and everyone in Jerusalem was troubled with him.  He gathered all the chief priests and the legal experts and asked them where the Christ was to be born.  They said, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote:

You, Bethlehem, land of Judah, by no means are you least among the rulers of Judah, because from you will come one who governs, who will shepherd my people Israel.”

Then Herod secretly called for the magi and found out from them the time when the star had first appeared.  He sent them to Bethlehem saying, “Go and search carefully for the child.  When you’ve found him, report to me so that I too may go and honor him.”  When they heard the king, they went; and look, the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stood over the place where the child was.  When they saw the star, they were filled with joy.  They entered the house and saw the child with Mary his mother.  Falling to their knees, they honored him.  Then they opened their treasure chests and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Because they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they went back to their own country by another route.

Honest confession today: who still has their Christmas decorations out?  Your tree is still up, the garlands and wreaths are still hung, the lights are still twinkling away – does that describe your house?

It describes my house, and you can see that it describes the church, as well, because, well, Christmas isn’t over yet.  Though our neighbors have industriously taken down their decorations on December 26, and the displays in the stores switched overnight to Valentine’s Day, we have left our Christmas decorations out as a twinkling reminder that Christmas isn’t technically over yet, and we short-circuit the story when we don’t give room for baby Jesus to be recognized as the Light of the World.

During the Advent season, we focused on preparing for the coming of Jesus by opening ourselves up to his kingdom of hope, peace, joy, and love.  We’ve celebrated his birth at Christmas, God making himself known in Jesus as a baby in Bethlehem.  Today we celebrate Epiphany, when Jesus in made known by a star’s heavenly light as a divine gift to all the peoples of the Earth.  When you see the decorations still out, just remember that the Light of the World will not be so easily extinguished or shoved back in a box until next year.

In fact, Jesus resists being placed in any box, he is one who resists being categorized or claimed exclusively by one group or another.  The bright start in the sky tips us to the reality that the Gospel Jesus brings is good news for all people, and not just a select few.  Just take a look at who features prominently in the story!

In the Scripture we’ve just read, after Jesus was born, wise men came from the east, even further east than Elizabeth City.  We don’t know exactly where “the East” was, but it was probably Persia, maybe modern-day Iran, or one of the something-stan countries – Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kazakhstan.

These men are called “magi” – hear how that sounds like “magic?”  One interpretation is that they were magicians – this isn’t David Copperfield or Michael Carbonaro type of magic.  No, they specialized in the paranormal – the hidden world of spirits and energy forces and the alignment of planets and stars.

Ashley and I spent a couple days in Sedona, Arizona last fall, which is a stunningly beautiful place with red rock formations and painted sunsets.  It’s also a place many believe to have a special, concentrated, spiritual energy, and the town has developed a pretty robust industry selling access to the supernatural – crystals and guided tours of the energy hot spots.  It’s all pretty “woo woo” to me, but I’m also struck by the realization that the wise men would have fit right in – studying the stars, feeling the energy, and indeed, with their expertise and learning, they probably would have been prominent, leading citizens – “kings of the community,” if you will.

That’s among their own people, of course.  God’s chosen people, the Jews, of whom Mary and Joseph and Jesus were part, would have viewed them with suspicion.  Whatever else you think about the wise men, know that they were outsiders, foreigners – strangers from a strange land, with strange beliefs and strange practices.  They would have been more at home with the crystal-wearing, vortex-loving hippies of Sedona than with respectable church-going folks of the Midwest or Southeast, and yet, their path still leads them to Jesus.

In reality, we know that the wise men didn’t see Jesus in the manger.  The star appeared at his birth, which meant there was still considerable time for the wise men to study it and decide to journey toward it.  Jesus was probably about two years old by the time they made it there; they didn’t see baby Jesus, they saw toddler Jesus.

I know of one church who doesn’t place the wise men in their nativity scene.  Rather, they place them on a windowsill in the very back of the sanctuary, as far away from baby Jesus as possible, as a way of remembering that the wise men were nowhere nearby for his birth, but instead were just embarking on a long journey. 

It would be more accurate to get our nativity scene out during Advent, pop baby Jesus in there on Christmas Eve as we already do, take the whole thing down and put it away, and then about two years later, swap out baby Jesus for a toddler Jesus figure, move the whole scene into Mary and Joseph’s starter home, and THERE have the wise men finally show up.

Friends, it just takes some folks longer than others to make their way to Jesus.  It took the wise men two years to get there, and it can sometimes take us just as long, if not longer.  Maybe you’ve noticed, but sometimes we human can be stubborn and hard-headed.  We can be slow to get what God is up to and even slower to respond.  But, one of the things I appreciate about the story of the wise men is that with God, it’s never too late to join the party.  God doesn’t shut us out, or say, “You missed your chance, too bad, so sad.”  It took the magi two years to get there, it will take some of us, some of those around us, just as long.  It will take some a lifetime.  Is it better to get to Jesus sooner than later?  Absolutely.  But, even if one comes late, it’s never too late.

So, that’s what I appreciate about the story of the wise men.  What I find a bit unsettling is how the wise men get to Jesus.  They came seeking Christ after studying the night skies.  Today, on Epiphany, a strange star shining in the sky announces the Gospel to foreigners, adherents to strange religion, people who have more faith in the stars than the Scriptures.

I would love for the magi to connect with God in a way I recognize, through preaching, worship, or sacraments. I would prefer that they have an encounter with Jesus through a Bible study or prayer group, I would prefer that God’s presence was made real to them through a welcoming congregation or some mission project.

But that’s not how the Scriptures tell it. Beliefs and practices that are strange and suspicious to us are the very thing that led them to Jesus.  Let me say that again: beliefs and practices that are strange and suspicious to us are the very thing that led them to Jesus.

How often have we dismissed the religious experience of others simply because it didn’t line up with our experience?  Most of us have a kneejerk instinct when we encounter something strange to quickly judge it and denounce it.  We don’t understand it, it’s new, it’s foreign, it’s different, and we immediately say, “I don’t know anything about it, but I know I don’t like it.”

A number of years ago, a friend’s encouragement was to turn to wonder rather than rush to judgment.  We see something new, something outside our expectations, and instead of saying, “That’s wrong,” we say, “I wonder how that thing/that idea/that person came to be?”  Do you see how it’s a fundamentally different response than immediately denouncing and judging what we don’t understand?  To judge is to shut down.  To wonder is to open up to new possibility and understanding.

The presence of the magi – their story, their beliefs, their path to Jesus – holds open the possibility that God is working in different people in different ways.  How truly wonderful!

That’s not the same as saying, “All paths lead to God,” – simple observation and common sense tell us that much – but, as people of faith, is our faith big enough, our God big enough to allow room for God to work in ways we do not understand and have not experienced for ourselves?

Now, that’s an epiphany – the realization that God’s work in the world is not restricted by our feeble understanding and limited experience.  God does not work in all hearts alike.  God may be working in you in a way that’s different than God might be working in me, but as a person of faith, I celebrate that God’s up to something in you, even if it seems strange to me. The things that light up your sky may not light up mine.  We may each come to God’s presence in our own way, but when people who walk in darkness see God’s great light, even at different times and in different ways and along different paths, then praise God who lights the way, and to whom belongs all the brilliant glory.  Even those who come to the party late, it’s never too late, thanks be to God!

The Scriptures tell us we are fearfully and wonderfully made; does it not stand to good reason that God’s ways of getting our attention would be equally diverse and wonderful?

Epiphany both proclaims and celebrates the reach of God’s embrace.  The bright star in the sky shows the lengths to which God is willing to go in order to announce the good news of his presence to all the world.  Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords to all the world – those who are very much like us, and those whose ways seem strange and distant.  Likewise, the response of the magi shows us that faith is a journey that leads us through sometimes strange and foreign places to destinations unknown, yet the light of God’s presence is both our guide and our reward for making the journey.

Today, we will gather at the Lord’s table and celebrate the sacrament of Holy Communion, a place where we know we will experience God’s presence again.

The only requirement to come to the table today is a desire to experience God’s presence.  That’s it.  It doesn’t matter where you’ve come from, where you’ve been, how you got here, or how long you’ve been here.  Whether you have come to faith in a way that is decent and respectable and recognizable to the person next to you, or if your path has been anything but conventional, you are welcome here.  You are welcome at the Lord’s table because 2000 years ago, a bright star brought some unlikely people to their knees before Jesus, and as unlikely as you or the person next to you may think you are, you are still not outside the inclusive reach of the King of Kings, and Jesus has set this table especially for you.

It’s 2016, the start of a new year.  Would you join me in making this the year in which we all turn to wonder rather than rush to judgment?  Imagine how life could be different – in our families, our jobs, our church, our community, our politics and our world – if each of us would turn to wonder rather than rush to judgment.  I daresay the light of God’s presence just might shine – not just in Bethlehem, not just in the stars – the light of God’s loving presence just might shine from you and from me, and the world will be a little brighter as a result.

Repeat the Sounding Joy - Christmas Eve 2015 (Luke 2:1-7)

Written and delivered by

Revs. Ashley & A.J. Thomas

Morehead United Methodist Church, Greensboro NC

Stokesdale United Methodist Church, Stokesdale, NC

Come in, weary friend, come in from the heat!

Come in and sit down, take the very best seat!

Welcome, dear friend, to the Angel Hotel!

The finest in Bethlehem, I’m glad now to tell!

Yes, we have room, we have room for you.

One with a hot tub?  Or camelside view?

I’m sorry, forgive me if I seem sorta crazy.

This time of year, you see, makes my mind hazy.

Something happened right here, this very same night.

Would you like to hear more? I thought you just might.

Sit back and relax, right next to the fire.

And we’ll tell you a tale that’s sure to inspire.

Rome ordered a census, they wanted a count

Of the whole population, every valley and mount.

People could only be counted in their hometown,

Which meant they came here, from miles all around.

They came here in droves, they came on their camels,

They came on their donkeys, and all sorts of mammals.

And all of them needed a place they could stay.

Who were we to turn business away?

We filled all the rooms with guests from afar.

We rented the closets; some slept in the bar.

We stacked them three high all the way down the hall,

And still they kept coming; we found room for them all.

I was headed upstairs to get me some rest,

When I heard a knock on the door – a very late guest.

Standing outside, the poor couple looked tired.

They held one of my coupons I knew had expired.

“Sir, if you please, we need room for the night.

We’re cold and we’re tired and we missed our flight.

So we rented this donkey and rode all the way here,

From Nazareth – no small task this time of year.”

He was a bit older, a working class guy,

gray in his beard, compassion in his eye.

His wife was younger, barely more than a child,

Her manner was gentle, tender, and mild.

I was just preparing to turn them away;

We had no more room, there was nowhere to stay!

I have a heart, really I do!

There just wasn’t room to squeeze in a few.

But that’s when we realized, standing there in the cold,

The woman was pregnant, very much so, I’m told.

We couldn’t say no, not with her condition,

But still the dilemma – where would we put them?

And then an idea flashed bright in my mind;

There was yet one more place they could go to unwind:

Our stable out back where our animals sleep,

We could put them up there, and rent it out cheap!

They looked the place over and said they’d be fine.

I brought out some food on which they could dine,

Then I bid them good night and went off to bed,

Falling asleep just as soon as I laid down my head.

I was wakened at three by my beautiful wife,

Who knows I need sleep lest there be strife.

I knew right away there was something the matter,

As I listened to her excitedly chatter.

Come quickly!  Come quickly! O, you must see!

A sight to behold – come downstairs with me!

I pulled the breath in and pushed the words out,

He still didn’t know what I was talking about!

She paused, caught her breath, sat down in a chair,

Regained her composure, and smoothed out her hair.

And began to tell me how events did unfold.

I thought, “I can’t take this; I’m getting too old.”

Remember the couple out back in the stable?

Two are now three; believe that, if you’re able.

The woman gave birth just an hour ago

To a beautiful boy, I’m telling you so.

He’s healthy and happy, they’re all filled with joy

To welcome tonight this wonderful boy.

You must come and see and congratulate them

Imagine it – here – in our Bethlehem!”

The stars shone so brightly on our little town,

Made us look like a beacon for miles all around.

I needed no lantern to light up my way.

The stars were so bright, it could have been day.

“It’s something,” I thought, but I didn’t know what

And sensed the excitement, building down in my gut.

So still, so solemn, the world lay in wait,

Yet knowing this day would forever be great.

We stopped just outside that cold, smelly cave –

The stable, the barn – good shelter it gave.

Around the stone manger, the family stood still.

Adoring the child, what a warm, precious thrill.

I stepped just inside and they looked up at me,

They lit up with smiles just as wide as could be.

“Come over and see” they said with such joy.

“Come over and meet our new baby boy.”

I walked through the filth and over the hay

And right to the manger, where the new child lay.

“What name is he given?” I wondered aloud.

“His name is Jesus,” said his mother, so proud.

Then she proceeded to say unto me,

“This child is special, he’ll set the world free!

From darkness and heartache and war and from strife;

To beating these things, he’ll devote his whole life.

“From fighting and feuding and hardness of heart,

He’ll reconcile all things, give all a new start.

The divide between persons will cease to exist,

No more divisions from east or from west.

“His name is Jesus,” she said with a grin,

“For he shall save all from the depth of their sin.

He’s God’s Anointed, yes, He is the One.

His name is Jesus, and he is God’s son.”

I hoped she was kidding, so I looked in her eyes

And saw she believed it, it was no great surprise.

I turned to her husband to see what he thought.

He confirmed the whole story with one silent nod.

We paused for a moment and let it sink in.

The child will save us all from our sin?

I wrestled a moment with what I’d just heard,

Pondering carefully every last word.

They claimed the outrageous!  They thought it was true!

The child they had birthed would save me and you!

I thought they were crazy, that’s how it all seemed.

My stable?  In Bethlehem?  Birthplace for a king?

The place was so lowly, so near to the earth.

Hardly the place for the Messiah’s birth.

I knew what the prophets had forseen back of old

How events of Messiah were supposed to unfold.

They predicted a king! A strong mighty leader!

Not a child born to peasants in my cattle feeder.

Why would these people claim something so grand

When they held so little in their peasant hand?

How could this child be the long-promised king?

Who would ever believe such a thing?

You probably should know that we’d never had use

For faith or religion, they just seem an excuse

For dear feeble minds to be filled to the brim

With fanciful tales they believe on a whim.

This couple was nice and they seemed quite devout.

They believed God was working this whole thing about.

But we were skeptics, we didn’t believe

That God had some purpose he intended to weave.

At least, we were trying to cling to our doubt

But all our excuses were plain wearing out.

The family looked joyful and filled with such hope,

Our doubt was hanging by a very thin rope.

The child was held in his mother’s embrace,

Who lovingly gave him a kiss on the face.

Her husband stood by filled with love and with care

I was honored and humbled to be standing there.

Now, listen quite close to what I must say.

Because it sounds quite absurd in every way.

You’re free to think I’m a crazy old guy,

That’s fine if you do, I won’t wonder why.

But friend, I must tell you just what I perceived.

In my stable out back, on this very same eve.

What we experienced is a tale to be told,

Again and again, from those long days of old.

When we held the child, what we felt was quite odd:

Somehow we just knew, the child was God.

How did we know? I really don’t know!

Just something within us made us know so.

I can’t quite explain it. I’ve tried! Take my word!

What we experienced just seems so absurd.

What happened could only be described as an art;

Something softened within us, deep down in our hearts.

It’s a feeling I knew wasn’t there just for me.  Or me.

It’s for the whole world, it’s even for thee.

The child is God-with-us, yes, Emmanuel,

The presence of God is here with us to dwell.

God has entered our world, let all hearts prepare room!

The light of his presence dispels all our gloom.

His birth is a thin place between heaven and earth.

God’s presence has crowned all creation with worth.

God reached through the thin place to you and to me.

Providing new life for all people to see.

The child is God-with-us, yes, Emmanuel.

So remember this story, remember it well.

Write it and tell it, share the good news!

Christ Jesus is born for Gentiles and Jews.

His birth didn’t happen just once in my stable,

He is born yet again in hearts that are able

To prepare room for God to make home in our heart,

With forgiveness and love, granting all a fresh start.

He didn’t come once and then vanish away.

He can soften our hearts here and now, on this day.

He is changing all hearts toward God’s kingdom way

He brought heaven to earth, his kingdom shall stay.

Well, there you have it. The tale you have heard,

Of what happened this night – Believe every word.

You can take it or leave it, that’s still up to you.

This time each year, there’s still something to do.

Open your heart to receive Jesus in.

If you’ve done it before, then do it again.

Let love fill your being, and joy flood your soul,

Prepare room for the Savior to make your life whole.

May God’s love shine its light down deep within you.

May it touch your whole life and make you brand new.

May you say it long after we’ve gone out of sight,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a God-night.

Does Your Soul Magnify The Lord? (Luke 1:39-46, The Fourth Sunday of Advent)

³⁹In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, ⁴⁰where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. ⁴¹When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit ⁴²and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. ⁴³And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? ⁴⁴For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. ⁴⁵And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” ⁴⁶And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

Many first-time parents are surprised to discover that once they have their baby, people stop talking to them.  When you start carrying a precious little person around with you, people will talk to the baby, and ignore you.  This should be liberating for new parents – people will not notice that you’ve worn the same shirt for four days, they won’t notice what your hair looks like, they won’t notice that your socks don’t match, if you’re even wearing socks!

It’s all about the baby.  Strangers will come up to you on the street and begin babbling and making googly faces to the bundle of blankets in your arms like they are old friends.  I’ve always thought that if you wanted to mess with people, you could wrap up something else in blankets – I dunno, a loaf of bread or a ham or something – and carry it around and see how long it takes people to realize they’re talking to your lunch and not a baby.

You carry around a baby, and all the attention goes to the baby.  Thankfully, people will still invite you places, because they know that the baby travels with you, and if you don’t show up, then neither does the baby.  It’s nice to come along for the ride, but the increased attention is more about the baby than it is about you.

It’s not about us.  Good lesson to learn, today.  It’s not about me.  Say that with me: “It’s not about me.”  That’s a lesson that’s well worth-learning.  It’s not about me.  And, perhaps no one knew that more clearly than Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Mary has gone to visit Elizabeth at her home in the Judean hill country.  We don’t really know much about the relationship between Mary and Elizabeth – they are sometimes called “cousins,” but many of us probably use the term “cousin” to describe a relative whose relationship to us is sufficiently vague for us to not know how, exactly, we are related.  Do you have cousins like that?  I know I do.  Mary will give birth to Jesus, Elizabeth will give birth to John the Baptist, which makes Jesus and John “cousins” in the same exact way. They’re related, but we’re not sure how.

Mary and Elizabeth are both pregnant when they meet up in today’s Scripture reading.  When Elizabeth heard the sound of Mary’s voice, the child in her womb – John the Baptist – leaped for joy.  I am told that babies leap and jump and kick and do all sorts of things in the womb.  I’ll take your word for it – I am not now nor have I ever been pregnant, and alas, I do not remember my own time in the womb!  I’m told that spicy food made me active, and I’d stretch out and hit the inside of the ribs and the bladder at the same time.

Babies do all that sort of stuff fairly frequently, so, it’s interesting that Elizabeth says the baby within her “leaped for joy.”  This wasn’t just one of his regular movements that she knew, she specifically says that he “leaped for joy.”

If you were here last week, you remember that we talked about joy.  How, to be a Christian is necessarily to be a person of joy, that there is no such thing as a joyless Christian.  We said that joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.

It only makes sense that baby John would jump with joy at the sound of Mary’s greeting, because Mary carried Jesus, and Jesus and Joy always go together.

It would be easy for this sort of thing to go to Mary’s head, but Mary knows it’s not about her; it’s about Jesus.  Even so, when God was looking for someone to be the mother of his Son, God chose Mary.  Made her highly-favored among women.  Blessed her.

We Protestants have not really known what to do with Mary.  Many of you probably remember times of great suspicion and animosity between Catholics and Protestants, and no doubt, a lot of it centered around Mary.  “It’s not about Mary, it’s about Jesus,” we would say, as if Catholics didn’t seem to know that.  By the way, Catholics also know that it’s about Jesus.  I don’t know a single Catholic who doesn’t know that it’s about Jesus!  And yet, we sometimes got far too hung up on Mary.

Growing up on the schoolyard, we all knew that one line of taunting was crossing the line, and that was talking bad about someone’s mama.  While we all had a full arsenal of “Your mama’s so fat” and “Your mama’s so ugly” jokes, they were only used sparingly.  To talk trash about someone’s mama was to talk trash about them.  Talking about someone’s mama was declaring war. 

We Protestants should be careful about talking bad about Jesus’ mama, because in so doing, we are also talking bad about Jesus.  The son of Mary is also the son of God, Mary carries this child, tradition calls her Theotokos, literally “the mother of God” or “God-bearer.”  Indeed, it is a blessing to bear God and to be used to give birth to God’s love for the world.  Mary knows it’s not about her; it’s about God. In the midst of all that, Mary breaks into a song called “My soul magnifies the Lord.”

She doesn’t sing, “Hey everybody – look at me!”  She points it toward God.  My soul – my heart, my life, the very depth and essence of my being – magnifies the Lord.  Mary’s heart and soul is humble – she isn’t full of herself or her own ideas.  She isn’t self-protective or cynical.  She’s checked her ego at the door and she’s ready to be used as part of God’s purpose in the world.  Mary isn’t in this for herself.  She’s in it for God.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,” she sings.  And, that she sings it rather than speaks it is a detail we ought not overlook. This is the season for singing. One of the things most of us like best about the Christmas season is the music—provided you don’t spend too much time at the Mall!  Even those of us who don’t particularly like to sing get into the mood when it comes to Christmas carols.  We sing because it lifts our spirits during what can be a difficult time of year for some of us.  We sing because we relish the joy in the eyes of our loved ones.  Like Mary, we sing in recognition of the wondrous abundance of God’s love and grace.

Mary sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord.”  Magnify – what does it mean to magnify something?

Make it bigger.  Bring it closer.  Bring out a clearer picture, a more detailed picture. “My soul magnifies the Lord” – my soul makes God bigger, brings God closer, my soul helps us see a clearer picture of God, a more detailed and accurate picture of God.

Magnify can also mean “to glorify,” or “to give attention to.”  To magnify God is to give attention to God.  Every time I preach a sermon, my aim is that it magnifies God – that it glorifies God, that it gives attention to God.  The role of preaching has been described as being a sign post along the journey of faith, pointing the way to God, without drawing much attention to oneself.  My hope is that every sermon points to God more than it does to me, because it’s not about me, it’s about God.

J.S. Bach is widely-recognized as one of the greatest composers of all time.  He was also a devout Christian, a Lutheran, in fact.  When he wrote out the music he composed, at the bottom of every sheet he wrote the letters, “SDG,” short for the Latin phrase soli deo Gloria, which means “the glory to God alone.”  He never wanted any attention and praise given to him to overshadow the glory that rightly belongs to God.

The same could be said of our choir and musicians.  Their music is given, not so much for our enjoyment, but as an offering to God.  If we enjoy it, too, that’s great, but the glory in it belongs neither to the performer nor the listener – the glory is for God.

All of worship, in fact, isn’t about us – it’s about God!  It’s all about magnifying God – giving attention to God, pointing to God, making God clearer and more visible.  More than our tastes, more than our preferences, more than what we like, more than what we don’t like.  It’s about God.  Rather than evaluating worship on the basis of whether or not it meets our needs – as if we were are consumers at the Golden Corral buffet-line of spiritual goods and services – we might simply look for the ways it points us toward God.

We don’t come to worship to evaluate or consume, because it’s not about us, it’s about God.  We come to magnify the Lord, not just in an hour of worship on Sunday morning, but in worshipful lives all week long.

Like Mary, we are all called to magnify the Lord.  Our soul – our heart, the very core of our being – giving glory and attention to God to make God bigger and bring God closer.

The most concrete way we can do that is to love.  At all times, in all places, toward all people, let us love.  Our faith witnesses to the reality that God is Love, when Jesus grew he told us that the greatest command was to love God and our neighbor, and so if we are to be people who magnify the Lord, may our souls make Love bigger.

Would it be that people know we are Christians because our lives are dedicated to making Love bigger.  I can’t think of a better witness.  I can’t think of a more concrete way to magnify the Lord.

It’s not about us.  It’s not about you or me, it’s not about us or them.  It’s about God.

Parents always claim that the moment they welcomed a child into their lives, their lives were changed forever for the better.  The same is true when we welcome Jesus into our lives - our lives are changed forever for the better.  A deep and indescribable joy is born within us, that joy fills us up to overflowing, it can’t be contained but bubbles out of us and touches others with God’s love.  When that happens, people jump for joy while others break into song, and in all of it, God is glorified.

Mary magnifies the Lord.  She has, in so many ways, focused and delivered God’s love.  She helps us see that we, too, are tended by God’s love, and we, too, are needed for delivering that love to the world.

And so, as you approach Christmas, I hope you do so as Mary did – pregnant with possibility, full and ready to burst with God’s love.

This Advent and Christmas, I invite you to become an expert in making God’s love bigger and delivering it to the world.  Are you willing to do that?  If so, then Hail Mary and Praise God.  Christ just might be born among us again.