After Thoughts: Christmas Day

Hello. My name is Beth. I am a star. Not like Elizabeth Taylor or Nicole Kidman though. I am a heavenly star. And something wonderful happened to me one night. But before I tell you about that, let me tell you a little about us stars.

God made the first stars on the fourth day of creation, before He made animals, plants or humans. (Genesis 1:16) So we stars have pretty much been around since the beginning. We’ve played various roles in the history of the world. God told Abraham to look up at us and try to count us. (Genesis 15:5) As unbelievable as it sounded to Abraham, God promised that his offspring would outnumber us. Like all God’s promises, that one was accomplished.

As lovely as we are, we are only creations of God, just like you humans. We are not to be worshipped (Deuteronomy 4:19), rather our light is to shine to the glory of God. Throughout time, humans have gotten that wrong. Kings Ahaz (2 Kings 17:16) and Manasseh (2 Kings 21:3), to name two, worshiped the host of heaven. That would be us, the stars, along with the moon and the sun. But God kept trying to bring the people back to Him. You see, we are to worship the Creator, not the creation. Nehemiah told the people that it was God who had made the heavens with all their host (Nehemiah 9:6), and the psalmist says we stars were created to rule over the night (Psalm 136:9).

When you look up, you see so many of us that you may not realize each one of us is uniquely created, just like you. In fact, God knows each of us by name (Psalm 147:4; Isaiah 40:26). And He commands us to worship him. Psalm 148:3 puts it like this: Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars.

So you see we have more in common than you may have realized. We are both, we stars and you humans, created by God to worship him. For those of you who lead many to righteousness, you will shine like us forever and ever (Daniel 12:3).

That brings me to the night that changed everything. And I was there. Out of all the stars, God chose me to light the sky the night His Son came to earth. At first, I was nervous. Me? But I’m just a regular star. You see, stars, like people, differ from one another in splendor (I Corinthians 15:41), and I knew by looking around, there were stars better qualified for the job. I wasn’t much more than a nebula, that’s a baby star, not much more than a whirling ball of dust and gas. But God wanted me. Then I reminded myself that God knew my name, He had created me to rule over the night, to drive away the darkness. If He wanted me to do this, I would do it to His glory.

I moved over that manger where the small child was sleeping and I started singing to myself. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” And shine I did. As bright as I could. With God’s grace, I burned so brightly that Wise men far to the east saw my light and traveled a long distance to worship Jesus, the Christ.

That night the world was changed forever. God entered into the history of humankind as a small baby to live among the people. I watched it all in awe and wonder at the goodness of our Creator. I watched as Mary and Joseph welcomed their baby, and as shepherds came to witness the miracle for themselves. I hope my light brought some comfort to them. I did my best to give glory to God.

After Thoughts: Fourth Sunday in Advent

Matthew 1:18-25

In this age of reality television, idols, stars, viral YouTube videos, friends and followers, the need to have one’s fifteen minutes of fame seems to be more urgent than ever. “Look at me, look at me.” Good or bad, embarrassing or uplifting, just getting noticed seems to be worth any price – integrity, honesty, loyalty, mercy.

Today’s Gospel lesson is an interesting counterpoint to this perspective. Here’s Joseph, engaged to Mary, and he finds out she is pregnant, but not by him. What does he do? Well, first let’s think about what he doesn’t do. He doesn’t ask why. “Oh, poor me. Why, God, why did this happen? Why me?” He doesn’t get mad. “How dare she! I don’t deserve this.” He doesn’t demand answers or retribution. “Who did this to you? I’ll make him pay.”

No, instead Joseph seems to carefully consider the situation, knowing full well what the law allows (Deut. 22) – up to the point of having Mary brought to the gate of town and stoned to death – and decides to spare Mary, to quietly end this unfortunate chapter and move on. That is grace in action, costly grace that requires Joseph to abandon his legal rights, his manly ego, his human craving for justice, and to let go of an-eye-for-an-eye ideology.

Then, with this decision made, Joseph gets a visit from an angel of the Lord. The angel declares what God wants Joseph to do. Don’t leave Mary. Be her husband. Be the child’s father. “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.” Decision reversed, again no questions asked, because God commanded it. This won’t be Joseph’s last visit from an angel. A little later, the angel appears warning Joseph to flee from Herod. So Joseph got up and went to Egypt. Herod dies and the angel returns with another message. So Joseph got up and went to Israel. Is there any wonder God chose this righteous man to be the earthly father of Jesus? His silent obedience rings loudly through the years. He is a man of faith in action.

As we stand here at the close of Advent, we greet Joseph, one of the four human parents at the center of this amazing story. Zechariah and Elizabeth welcomed John. Joseph and Mary received the baby Jesus. On Christmas Eve, it is our turn to be parents – nurturers, protectors, and defenders of Divine Love born this night in a humble manger. It is our calling, our joy, and our greatest blessing to welcome this Child. Let us pray then for the silence of Zechariah as we wait in awe for what God is about to do. Let us pray for the discernment of Elizabeth as we recognize the coming of our Lord into the world. May we like Mary bear God’s Good News with rejoicing in our hearts. May we like Joseph faithfully move into action to do the will of God. As all creation groans in labor pains, waiting for the new birth, may we be the ones to bring forth hope and peace because of the promise fulfilled when God became flesh and bone and dwelt among us.

After Thoughts: Third Sunday in Advent

Matthew 11:2-11

Last week, John was out in the wilderness, proclaiming the arrival of the Promised One who was coming with a winnowing fork. This Messiah was much more powerful than John and would set things right. Redemption was near. Judgment was nigh. John warned the people to get busy producing good fruit. Or bear the consequences.

This week? John sits in prison. Hadn’t he devoted his life to bearing good fruit? To proclaiming the news? To preparing the way for the Lord? To straightening paths? And now this. Prison. Did John get it all wrong? Is Jesus the one or should John keep waiting? Wasn’t the Messiah going to set His people free? It was so confusing.

So John sends messengers to Jesus to ask him. “Are you the one?” Jesus says: Go and tell John what you see and hear. Then Jesus rattles off a list of miraculous happenings – the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the dead rise, and the poor get good news.

So is that a yes or no? While this answer does seem perplexing, set in the context of Holy Scriptures familiar to John it is much clearer. Isaiah had promised the people a time when the blind would see, the deaf hear, the lame walk. Notice that Jesus goes further. The dead will rise. The poor receive good news. Yes, John, yes. It is the Messiah. But his mission, his plan, his work is so much bigger than a worldly kingship, a powerful regime, or a political victory. It goes beyond time and space – it is the good news of salvation and eternal life.

This Good News really is the distinctive message of our Christian faith. Jesus saved us for eternity. Everlasting joy is ours. But what exactly does that mean? What does it look like? Probably not like a Hallmark movie. Everything doesn’t always work out perfectly. We all know John’s future. Bad things happen. Not just the big ones like war and murder and genocide. There’s all the stuff that happens every day. Divorce. Job loss. Sickness. Abuse. Despair. People we love die. Each of must die.

These earthly realities can be overwhelming, particularly at this time of year. The sounds, smells, and images of Christmas, while so merry and bright, can also evoke sadness. The holidays can be painful reminders of childhood days, Christmases past with loved ones who are no more. We have an ache, sometimes almost unbearable, that things can never be that way again, that we will never have another Christmas in that place and time with those loved ones. In a season of good cheer, many can lose their way and get lost in despair. But what if that yearning is not for the past? What if it is the light of the Kingdom, showing the way to a path that Jesus made, a road so clear that even a fool cannot go astray?

So, if your Christmas spirit is a bit shaky this year, that’s okay. Explore your grief. Embrace the tears. Experience all that your soul holds. Look closely at the source of your sadness. “When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

And then return to the present, this Christmas 2016. Look around and count your blessings. Rejoice in this day as you keep the faith and wait patiently. Remember that, like John, we are all in prison. Every week we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. This is the Good News of Christmas. We don’t have to free ourselves. The Messiah is come.

After Thoughts: Second Sunday in Advent

Matthew 3:1-12

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I love Advent. (Thanks to my dear friend Barb who really helped me grow in my appreciation of this season.) This week’s Gospel lesson is a case in point as to why this time of year is so precious. It gifts us with a countercultural perspective on the nature of reality. At a time when we are being distracted by bright lights, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, BOGO, free shipping, today only hot deals, thank God for this crazy locust-eating, camel-hair-wearing fellow standing outside of the ruckus and calling our attention to the True Light that is about to come.

The first week of Advent was about waiting and watching, staying awake. This second week is all about hope. What’s that? Hope? Really? With all of John’s talk about vipers and axes set to chop at the root and unquenchable fire? Where’s the hope in that?

Let’s back up a few chapters. Remember how the book of Matthew begins? “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.” The promised Messiah was to come from this lineage. And so Jesus did. Not as if that would be a challenge for the Creator. But the story of Jesus was bigger than his human bloodline. The Pharisees and Sadducees failed to grasp this. Salvation for them was all about circumcision, family lineage, rituals, customs, laws, tribal requirements. In the first century, if you didn’t have credentials of some sort – temple status, Roman citizenship, some worldly entitlement – you were pretty much powerless, next to nothing. Your future? Not so bright.

John shot all that righteous security to pieces. “So you think it’s a big deal to be children of Abraham? God could turn stones into offspring for Abraham if God so chose.” That must have been a real identity crisis for some. Jesus brought a new identity, a true and right salvation, an eternal hope. It’s not about where we came from, our earthly paternity, family tree, ethnicity, financial status, national citizenship. It’s about our divine bloodline, the blood of Christ, shed for all for the forgiveness of sin. We are made heirs of the Father and joint heirs with the Son. God stepped into time and space and everything is different. Everything is made new.

Now that is hope that can’t be bought, boxed, or bargained for.

Prayer: Father, this Advent season, burn away the chaff of greed, selfishness, covetousness, and vanity. God of hope, fill us with all joy and peace in believing, so that we may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.