Fear Not

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 9: 2-7 and Luke 2: 1-20 Sermon Title: Fear Not Preached on December 24, 2020 The Scripture Lesson I just read from the Gospel of Luke is the same one read by Linus in the Peanuts Christmas Special. It’s a well-known passage, featuring those mainstays of every nativity scene, the shepherds, who answered the call from the angels to go and see this thing that God had done on that very first Christmas so long ago. I wonder if they left their flocks behind or brought them. Does that sound like a good question? It might sound too fanciful or beside the point, as our questions often are. In the comics last Sunday, the mom in the Family Circus was trying to tell the Christmas story but couldn’t for all the kids who were asking: who wrote this story? Should Joseph have called sooner to get a reservation at the Inn? Why didn’t the Wise Men bring baby Jesus some better presents? I don’t mean to get in the way of the story with this question, but truly, I do think about the flocks, and I bet they left them because hearing the great Good News which changes everything demands that we leave something behind, namely, our fear. To quote from the 90’s movie Defending Your Life, “Fear is like a giant fog. It sits on your brain and blocks everything – real feelings, true happiness, real joy. They can’t get through that fog. But you lift it, and buddy, you’re in for the ride of your life.” That’s how it was. Maybe they left one shepherd behind the way Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon while what’s his name stayed back on the ship. We remember the shepherds because they took that step of faith right over their fear. That’s worth thinking about on Christmas Eve. In this season of abundant anxiety “Fear not,” is the part of this Second Scripture Lesson which I find impossible to ignore, because that’s just such a challenge in the time of a viral pandemic. “Fear not,” is a radical instruction in this time when there is much to fear. Yet, something that I never would have noticed on my own is that as Linus, the Peanut’s character known for always carrying around his blankie, drops it when he says this verse from the Gospel of Luke, “And the angel said unto them, “Fear not!” There’s a message for this age which glimmers from that scene as well as from all the best Christmas movies. “Fear not,” George Bailey. “And see that you’ve had a wonderful life.” “Fear not,” Ebenezer Scrooge. “Your life isn’t over. You can do it all different, starting now.” “Fear not,” ancient shepherds. “Fear not,” my brothers and sisters, for fear is holding all of us captive in one way or another. And I’m not talking about whether or not you’re wearing a mask in public. I’m talking about giving life a chance to be new and surprising. I’m talking about real risk, truly opening yourself up to the transforming power of the Gospel, which requires us to let go of our fear. My brother-in-law is a Methodist pastor. He’s a chaplain down at Oxford College of Emory University, and he frequently writes for the local paper. This week he pointed out that even Christmas movies like Home Alone contain a glimmer of what it means to let go of fear. Do you remember the character with the shovel in that movie? That old man who lurks the neighborhood salting the sidewalks? The kids in the neighborhood are afraid of him. They call him Old Man Marley and the rumor is that he distributes the remains of his murder victims in that salt, slowly getting rid of the evidence, bit by bit and piece by piece. On Christmas Eve he sits down with Kevin, the main character, in church. There it’s revealed that Old Man Marley carries guilt more than evil intentions around with him as he salts the sidewalk, having years ago broken ties with his son. “Why don’t you call him?” Kevin asks. “What if he won’t talk to me?” Old Man Marley responds. You see, he’s afraid. There’s always something to be afraid of, and this has been a fear packed year where there’s something to be afraid of around each and every corner. The obvious fear is of a virus. Some say it’s no worse than the flu, yet it’s taken the lives of more than 300,000 Americans. Some compare the daily death count to other tragedies, saying it’s like a 9/11 every day. We know it’s overwhelming some of our hospitals, it’s beating down the work force, making educators do backflips (as though their jobs weren’t hard enough already), all while some voices are saying: what’s the big deal? It’s easy to be afraid of the truth, but it’s also easy to be even more afraid when it’s not clear what the truth is. That’s made calling home more difficult. Maybe your mother is relieved that you’re not coming. Maybe she’s mad and eating at a buffet right now before she goes to Walmart without a mask on. Ours is a Christmas veiled in a fear that not everyone is facing but all of us are feeling, yet the angels come again with that same message, be not afraid, fear not, come to Bethlehem and see. Drop your burden, let go of whatever it is that you’ve been depending on for comfort be it denial or hand sanitizer, and take comfort in the truth that God is doing something new tonight which changes things. Even though sometimes it’s hard to believe that anything could ever really change. The vaccine is here, but that has some just cautiously optimistic. For example: my Mom works in mental health at the hospital on a Cherokee reservation, so she’s one on that front line to receive a vaccine for this virus, only one of her friends who is Cherokee said, “I was honored that Native Americans are among the first to receive the vaccine, until I started thinking about the last time the government offered to help us out. Is this a cure or another delivery of smallpox blankets?” It’s hard sometime to get excited about the future if you’ve been hurt in the past. It’s hard to be hopeful if you’ve been let down before. It’s hard not to be afraid if you have a good reason to be, but I heard a three-year-old named Dalton quoted this week. She said, “Sometimes it makes me a little nervous to go down the slide,” but guess what, she still goes down them and if we can drop our fear, we’re in for the ride of our lives. That’s what the shepherds did. All at once they could see that there was a power greater than whatever they were afraid of breaking into the world, and the same is true for us. That’s what Christmas is always all about. God breaking into our lives, revealing what fear has hidden from our eyes. Think about it. On Christmas Eve do you really know enough to be hopeless? Wayne Dyer, an author, once wrote: “No one really knows enough to be pessimistic,” especially on the night before hope was born. Fear not. Fear not. What are you holding so tightly that you can’t hear them? Are you ready to recognize that fear could have you seeing it all wrong? For George Bailey was certain he was a failure. Though he had been a hero his whole life regret was blinding him to it. He’s on that bridge, trapped in this whirlwind of emotions and unfulfilled dreams. He never got to do any of things that he wanted to do. He wanted to travel the world but had to stay home to take care of his family. He wanted to be a war hero, but the brother, whose life he saved, got to do that instead. He saved countless lives, he prevented financial ruin, he elevated the lowly, he prevented the degradation of women, he built a community for families where instead there would be a graveyard, and he looks down into the water from a bridge wondering if it had made a lick of difference. “Fear not” George Bailey. “Fear not” Ebenezer. It’s not too late. This Christmas Eve, fear not. Let go of such worries. Forget how to keep score. Look up from the water of hopelessness to see the bright shining star overhead, for the angels are singing, “fear not.” Fear not, all you nurses, underwater, caring for too many people at once. Rushing from one bedside to the next, while friends go to parties and act like everything is fine. Tonight, fear not, because your life of virtue makes a bigger difference than you’ll ever know. Fear not, all you teachers. Abraham Lincoln had to learn remotely too, and look at where he ended up. Fear not all you parents, for learning how to do without never hurt anybody, and it won’t hurt your kids. They should fear not as well. Fear not all you children. Tomorrow is a new day, shining bright with potential. Fear not, even you who mourn, because the God who takes death’s sting away is born unto us. Fear not if you’re hopeless, for there is more to the story. And fear not all you who are alone, because you’re not. The light of the world is breaking into our lives. Drop your fear, anxiety, worry, and angst for just long enough to see that something different is happening for unto us is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. Amen.

Prophecy Fulfilled

Scripture Lessons: Jeremiah 31: 31-34 and Luke 1: 67-80 Sermon Title: Surprised by a Fulfilled Prophecy Preached on December 20, 2020 We’re now getting very close to the big day, the most important day for most every child in every state of our nation. The morning when, having made their lists and been as good as possible, they drag their sleeping parents out of bed, rush to the living room to see what Santa’s left under the Christmas Tree. It’s a morning of promises fulfilled. Of wishes made and granted. Christmas morning is the essence of hope and joy. Even if there’s not peace on earth exactly or abundant blessing on all humankind on Christmas morning, it feels like it for just a minute. It’s fleeting, but it’s there. Even if before the wrapping paper is even cleaned up, most of our kids will be thinking about what they’d like to get next year, there is something beautiful about their attitude. Yet think about it. Regardless of the self-interest and materialism, they’re kids who know that dreams do come true and if you really want something you might just get it. Adults don’t think about it that way. On Christmas morning we stand back and watch it happen without feeling exactly the same hopefulness and joy ourselves. Of course, adults still love Christmas morning. I love Christmas morning, but I don’t look at it the same way I once did. I don’t look forward to it as our girls are looking forward to it right now. I wonder if many adults, like me, would rather have Santa come down the chimney to pack up some stuff from my basement and take it back to the North Pole than deliver anything else. A member of our church had too much, so was having a yard sale last weekend. She’s someone with outstanding taste, so as soon as Sara and I heard about it we made or way to her driveway. Then, last Sunday, when a nice armchair hadn’t sold, she invited us back over to pick it up if we still wanted it. Well, we did, and while I was loading it into our car, I asked her what the yard sale had been like. Most people don’t like yard sales. I don’t like hassle of hauling everything outside, then getting up early to stand around while people pick over my stuff. Interestingly, this woman said that the hard part of having a yard sale for her was giving up and moving on. “To have a yard sale, you’re admitting that you’re not going to get to all those things you thought you would. If you’re selling it than you’re facing the fact that you’re never really going to learn how to re-cane those chairs or refinish that dresser.” Your son is never going to come back for his catcher’s mitt. Your daughter really doesn’t want her grandmother’s paintings. To have a yard sale you have to give up on something you imagined or promised yourself that you would do, which is even harder than finding out that some people are only willing to pay fifty cents for what you paid $50 for. Most children aren’t ever thinking like that. They’re still filling up their lives, not downsizing. To them, the whole world is full of possibility, and their dreams are coming true on Christmas morning. They’re good at wishing for. On the other hand, some of their parents have had to master the art of letting go, moving on, and settling for less. If we didn’t imagine how full all our basements would be. Some brides hang onto their wedding dresses, imagining that one day their daughter might wear it. Some grooms hang onto their tuxedos, imaging that they’ll fit back into it. It’s a hard thing to face the fact that neither of those things are likely to happen, so congratulate yourself if you’ve had a yard sale. Give someone else the chance to make their own pasta or brew their own beer but be careful. Let go of your motorcycle, but don’t let go of adventure. Let go of your golf clubs, but find another way of getting outside. Let go of your bassinette, but don’t give up on the future, don’t give up on the promise. For Zechariah it had been so long, surely he had given up on the idea that it would ever happen. Our Second Scripture lesson from Luke is the account of what Zechariah said once he had finally regained his speech. What he says in our Second Scripture Lesson is in celebration of his son’s birth, John the Baptist, but the background for this Scripture lesson is that he had been waiting for a child so long that the bassinette had been sold or given away. They wanted a child, but the child never came, so rather than keep wishing they let go. Is that wrong? Well, it depends. Elizabeth and Zechariah were good and righteous people. The Gospel of Luke goes so far as to say that they were, "Both of them... righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord." Not only that, Zechariah was a priest and Elizabeth was a descendant of Aaron, the original priest of Israel, but none of that guarantees their lives are full of faith, hope, and love. None of that ensures that they really expected the living God to step into their lives. What we should all assume is that they knew how to pray, but at some point they started to wonder, “what’s the point.” Month by month the disappointment became too much to take, and rather than be the victim of their high expectations, they lowered their sights and settled into the reality that children would just not be in the cards. After all, "both were getting on in years," and part of growing up is letting go of fairy tale dreams, so they had a yard sale and let go. Zechariah continued on as a priest. He kept wearing his priestly garments, saying his priestly prayers, and was surely honored when he was chosen to go offer incense in the holiest place on earth, the sanctuary of the temple, the place where all good Jews knew God was must truly present. Surely, he was honored, but as a man who had gotten good at letting go of some of his dreams and some of his hopes, did he still believe he might meet God there? Had it been you, what would you have expected? Parents know that their kids are growing up when they stop believing in certain things, but where does the stop-believing-in stop? If your kids like Harry Potter, maybe you broke the news that an acceptance letter from Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry isn’t ever coming? But don’t you still want them to believe that the world is full of magic? At some point I had to let go of my dreams of being a professional baseball player, but did I also let go of the idea that I could be anything I dreamed I could be? Zechariah had stopped asking his wife Elizabeth about it. Now a stomach bug was always just a stomach bug, but having given up on that dream, as he entered the Temple, the place thought to be the sanctuary of God, did he expect anything special to happen. What did he expect to see? When we start letting go, it’s so easy to let go of too much. The words we say in here can become empty, so that it’s easy to participate in the rituals without believing that they mean much of anything. How often have I said to you, “Know that you are forgiven, and be at peace” and how often have you really believed it? How often have I stood at the table, reminding you that Christ died for your salvation, and how often have you really taken it in? I think this is true of Zechariah, that this man who must have known all the stories of Scripture by heart, all the accounts of God speaking to Abraham and Sarah and Rehab and Jacob and Moses, all the times angels appeared, all the miraculous events that changed the course of history, still this man was terrified when an angel of the Lord was there, exactly in the place that an angle of the Lord is supposed to be, because he had let go of too much. He had even let go of the truth that God is alive and makes miracles happen. We are now very close to the big day. Christmas. And Christmas is about this God being born. Christmas is about God really being born and walking around on the earth, but do you really believe he’s coming, are you really ready for his birth, or have you given up believing such miraculous things? Zechariah wasn’t a faithless person. He was a priest after all, but when an angel really showed up and told him that his prayer for a child would be answered he was terrified. His wife on the other hand, you might be thinking, “and you thought Zechariah was afraid,” but Luke tells us that “after those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. Then she said, "This is what the Lord has done for me when the Lord looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people." On the other hand, because of his faithlessness, the angel made Zechariah mute. Finally, once he was able to speak again, having only been able to watch and listen, he spoke the Second Scripture Lesson which we just read, not like a rational, measured old man, having learned how to give up on his unfulfilled dreams, but like a faithful prophet, having had his eyes opened to the God who is still at work in this world doing impossible things. There is so much ritual to our celebration of Christmas, but do not forget that there is something wonderfully real beneath all the wrapping paper. It is a love that changes everything. By the tender mercy of our God, The dawn from on high will break upon us, To give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, To guide our feet into the way of peace. These are not empty words. This is no idol tale. This is the prophecy fulfilled. The Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

What Child Is This?

Scripture Lessons: Ezra 3: 10-13 and Luke 1: 46-55 Sermon title: What Child Is This Preached on December 13, 2020 Some years ago, I was a camp counselor at Camp Cherokee, which was a church camp the churches in our Presbytery organized up on Lake Allatoona. My sister Elizabeth and I grew up going there. When we were old enough, we both became counselors. Every week of camp there’d be a different preacher who would lead the evening worship service for all the young campers, and one of their sermons comes to mind in thinking about this passage of Scripture, where Mary reacts to the news that she will be the mother of our Savior. This preacher didn’t beat around the bush. He had something he wanted to say, and he was going to say it whether it was appropriate for young ears to hear or not. He was really focused on the Lord’s crucifixion. “Did you know children,” he says, “that after the Lord was betrayed, he was arrested, but the Roman soldiers weren’t kind to our Lord. No, they whipped him. They whipped and whipped him within an inch of his life, but it wasn’t quite enough to kill him.” “So, after they whipped him, they put this awful crown of thorns on his head so that blood dripped down his face. But children, it wasn’t the crown of thorns that killed him either. Since he was still within an inch of his life, they took these old rusty nails. They took these big rusty nails and they nailed him through the arm and to this wooden cross, only it wasn’t the rusty nails that killed him either. Do you know what finally killed him children?” And I could hear it from the back of the group. Just a whisper from a boy of 8 or 9: “Was it tetanus?” I love that story. The preacher is trying to make one point, but a young boy speaks up to make another, and in that moment one sermon gave way to an experience that brings me joy every time I think of it. That’s one place joy comes from isn’t it? This Sunday of the season of Advent we light the third Advent Candle, the Candle of Joy. It’s particularly appropriate that the Foster Family light the Joy Candle, because that was Natalie Foster’s mother’s name, so today we celebrate joy, but think with me about where joy comes from. Don’t we so often find joy in the unexpected. Don’t you see joy when the daily grind blooms in surprises. That’s how it is sometimes. Because sometimes when everything goes according to plan life becomes boring and monotonous, and sometimes when everything goes wrong, it goes exactly right. Sometimes the best laid schemes of mice and men fall apart, and what gives way are stories truly worth telling and remembering. The best Christmas movies are like that. Think about Home Alone. In the movie, Home Alone, in one sense, everything goes absolutely wrong. What could be worse than forgetting your child at home when flying to Paris? That’s what happens to the main character, Kevin, who was no older than the little camper in my story and yet he’s left all alone at Christmas. At first, it’s an exciting adventure for him. For his mother it was her worst nightmare, but what starts off in a nightmare turns into little Kevin learning to value his family. A lesson is learned because they forgot him and left him at home all by himself. Now that wasn’t a well-executed family trip, yet something so good came out of it. In the same way, think about How the Grinch Stole Christmas. No one hopes to have their tree stolen by a broken-hearted man covered in green fur, but when the Who’s down in Whoville find that everything is gone on Christmas morning what do they do? They sing. Then there’s our family favorite, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. We watched it last weekend and our daughters couldn’t believe how their parents laughed at all these jokes they considered to be highly inappropriate, yet it is hilarious. It’s hilarious how Clark Griswold works and works and works to enhance everyone’s Christmas cheer, yet nothing goes right. The turkey is dry, one lady wraps up her cat as a present, Snot the dog gags on a bone from under the table, and Cousin Eddie empties the-you-know-what in the storm drain, for despite all our hard work it appears as though all we’re going to get some years is a subscription to Jelly of the Month Club or worse. This has been a challenging year. In some ways, this has been a nightmare of a year. Have you seen the 2020 themed Christmas ornaments? We have special, commemorative ornaments on our tree that represent different milestones. The 2002 ornament from Sara’s Mom has wedding bells on it because that was our first Christmas together as husband and wife. Sara’s Mom also gave us new baby ornaments for 2009 and 2011 for our daughters’ first Christmases. But have you seen the 2020 commemorative ornaments? One has Santa with a N-95 mask on. Another is a garbage dumpster on fire. I just designed one for the Foster’s, because little Harry, their four-year-old, got his head stuck in the banisters of their staircase. Jon made the mistake of sending me a picture, which I’ve sent off to a company to turn into a glass ornament, so they’ll always remember just what this crazy year was like. The Grinch would say that this year stink, stank, stunk, but if we look to Mary then comes the reminder that among our shattered expectations is the promise of God. We know her song well. It’s been sung and sung, again and again. We call it the Magnificat, but consider the context she sang that song in. She had just been told by an angel that she would become the mother to our Savior, but what child is this? Being pregnant wasn’t part of her plan. She wasn’t even married. Do you think she grew up dreaming of the year she’d become an unwed teenage mother? Do you think she was hoping to be the subject of whisper and rumor, a stress on her poor mother and a shame on her father? That Christmas so long ago, was anything going according to how she envisioned it? No. But consider how when all her plans go up in smoke, she sings, because Mary sees something larger than life unfolding before her. She feels a promise growing in her womb. She knew that in her life a dream was becoming a reality, a bright future that she could not have imagined, only for it to be realized she must accept that Christmas can no longer be about her plans. What we see in her song is that faithful Mary knows that this is about God’s plans, so rather than sing a sad lamentation as everything she wrote down in her wedding book planner is going up in flames, Mary rejoices for she knows that sometimes God makes a mockery of our best laid plans to give a gift that’s even better. That’s what happens in all the best Christmas movies. Do you remember how Cousin Eddie kidnaps Clark’s boss and brings him back hog tied in his bathrobe? Now the Griswold’s are truly in the midst of a disaster. Clark has basically already ruined everything in his attempt to hold it all together, only it’s about to get worse, because the SWAT team is poised to capture the kidnapper and Clark is can see himself spending the rest of Christmas in jail. Think about what all is going on here. Things are now very bad, when suddenly the boss can see that not giving his employees their Christmas bonus was the wrong move. Everything is falling apart, but somehow, in the midst of the chaos he is busy recognizing what really matters. Clark’s boss is facing the uncomfortable truth about himself, and wrestling with what he should have done all along but didn’t and what he can do next to somehow make it all right. That’s what he sees as his world is turned upside down. He’s seeing things while at the mercy of a kindhearted doofus, but through his unexpected Christmas Eve this powerful corporate mogul discovers what Christmas really is. The mess has to happen, for the proud must change and be reborn. That’s another reason we love Mary’s song. We love to hear it, because it’s beautiful, only it’s not holly-jolly, radio ready, Christmas fluff. It’s justice, righteousness, and joy springing from ashes. My soul magnifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior 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. Are you ready for that? Are your eyes open to that? They may as well be, because we’re right in the middle of it. This year we can’t gather for Christmas Eve services as we always have. I’m the most disappointed that we can’t have our family service, but that doesn’t mean families aren’t gathering here. In fact, 350 families are lining up in our parking lot every Monday to receive a box from the Atlanta Food Bank containing five complete meals. For some reason the Atlanta Food Bank gave us boxes and boxes of garlic last week. Thank goodness no one brought all those boxes inside or we’d still be smelling it, but that’s hardly the point. The point is that there is such a profound need in our community, but had we all been rushing around like always, I don’t know if I would have seen it, whereas this year the unemployed and underemployed are impossible for me to ignore. My eyes are open, though my plans are falling apart. We want Christmas to be perfect, but this year it’s being interrupted. Some of us will have to adapt to new ways of doing things. Some of us will be by ourselves this Christmas, which I hate, but consider this: every year some people are alone on Christmas, we just don’t always think about it. Now that you’re thinking about them, hear the invitation to really see them. That’s what Christmas really is. In Home Alone, it took having a nightmare Christmas to discover the miracle of family that they had been taking for granted. In How the Grinch Stole Christmas, it took stealing Christmas for him to understand. In Christmas Vacation, Clark’s plans must go up in flames for him to erupt in joy as his bosses hardened heart changed, finally seeing his employees as people. This year we all have to think about Christmas differently. Inspired by Mary’s song we faithful people must imagine how that can be a blessing. We sing, “What child is this?” And the answer is, he is the one who changes things. Take this year of change as an opportunity to value what you’ve taken for granted, to celebrate what’s become tired routine, and to find joy in the unexpected. May Christ’s peace rise from the ashes of your best laid plans, for he is coming, and he comes to make all things new. Amen.

They Came Confessing their Sins

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 11: 1-9 and Mark 1: 1-8 Sermon Title: They Came Confessing their Sins Preached on December 6, 2020 Every year at about this time we turn our attention to John the Baptist, and this year, what amazes me about John the Baptist are the crowds. According to our Second Scripture Lesson from the Gospel of Mark, the city and the countryside emptied out and lined up to be in his presence, which this time of year, sounds something like the kind of audience only the likes of Santa Clause would be able to command. But notice how it’s not lines of parents with children who are lining up to see him. Lining up to see John the Baptist are grown men and women. I believe that’s an important detail to pay attention to, because in our culture, what adults are willing to go out of their way to do often seems to have a lot more to do with what their kids want or need than what they themselves want or need. For example, I don’t know many adults who frequent McDonald’s for their own benefit. In fact, if I were given the choice, I’d rather eat about anything than a chicken nugget shaped like a cowboy boot. However, if I had a granddaughter who wanted a happy meal I’d gladly suffer through. Maybe that’s just how it is. Something that may be true about our culture is that we will just do all kinds of things to make kids happy, and so, maybe you, like me, are wondering who in their right mind would travel out into the desert to confess? Who even has time in their schedule for that? Yet, they swarmed him. They made it a priority to go and see him it seems, though he was way out there. I don’t know how far they all had to travel. Surely it wasn’t on a paved road. They likely had to diverge from the paths of their daily routine to walk through the sand and scrub of the wilderness to get to the river, which is something that I know people are willing to do, but not often for themselves. Think about what we’ll do for our kids. I showed up outside the Marietta Center for Advanced Academics at 4:00 AM to make sure that our daughter got in. It was raining, and the man at the front of the line was in his camo coveralls. He had one of those pop-up tents and one of those nice folding chairs that reclines. When they opened the doors, he had fallen asleep and we all just walked right passed him. I said to the guy next to me, “shouldn’t we wake him up?” It turns out, someone else was looking out for him. His kid got in too, but my point is that we’ll do almost anything for our kids, while the grown-ups in our Second Scripture Lessons didn’t go out into the desert on behalf of their child’s education. When I was a kid in little league, my parents paid for me to have a private batting instructor. Imagine that. I was so well cared for. My dad would come home from work having already sat in traffic, then he’d get right back in it to drive me out to this special lesson, but those crowds didn’t go out into the desert to see John so that their kid would have a leg up on the baseball field. They went for themselves. These people went out to the river Jordan to see John, who was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, but it wasn’t for their kids. It was for them to confess. We need to think about that. Especially these days, we need to think about what we will travel long distances for and for whom we will make sacrifices, because so many among us will go through hardship and will take risk to make sure that the kids they love have the chance to stand before a certain man with a long beard wearing a strange outfit, but it’s not John the Baptist and it’s not for them. As a culture, we don’t have any problem teaching our kids that it’s OK to want something for Christmas, but what do you want? What do I want? I remember how long the lines were when I was a kid. We’d first have a special breakfast, then we’d ride the Pink Pig, before standing in the longest line to sit on Santa’s lap, laying before him all our Christmas wishes. This year many will still go see him because it’s important. It’s not wrong to be able to say what it is that you want. That’s a skill kids need to have. It’s OK to want things, so we encourage our kids to write it all down. Even if they can only just slip their list into a slot rather than place it in Santa’s hand. Did you hear that pandemic Santa smiles from within this sanitary snow globe like enclosure so no germs are exchanged? Things are different this year. Still, we want to make sure that our kids can make their wishes known. Our girls have made their lists. Lily turned hers into a power point presentation. With music. I’m serious. The slides have different color backgrounds, purple if she really wants it. Blue if she just sort of does. There’s a picture of the item on each slide, a link for her grandparents to click on, which makes buying for her very convenient, and I’ve been there encouraging her through each draft of this presentation that she started back on October, because I want our daughters to be able to stand up and tell the world what they want. I want them to be honest and clear about what they need. On the other hand, we don’t really encourage adults to do that sort of thing. “What do you want to have for dinner,” a husband asked his wife. “I don’t care,” she responded. It’s hard for some adults to put stuff on a Christmas list because they’re used to paying attention to what other people want and need, and maybe we shouldn’t be spending time on Christmas lists, but all those grown-ups went out of their way to see John the Baptist. Why? What does he have to offer? Some kids have their list, all typed up: - Nintendo switch - Baby Alive - Hot Wheels Ultimate Garage But what about their parents? Some dad will ask for a nice bottle of scotch, only what will really give him some real true peace? I can image a mother who can’t think of anything to ask for, so her kids will probably just get her another scarf. Who needs another scarf? What if instead, she doesn’t think about Santa this year and instead imagines herself lining up to see John. What if we were all to imagine ourselves lining up at the river to ask for the number one thing that every mother and father really wants and needs? I don’t even remember where I heard this. It might not be based on a study or any real data, still, it rings true: that what every father wants more than anything else is just to be appreciated by his family and what every mother so truly wants is to be forgiven. Does that sound right? There’s a comedian who has this bit about how no one ever gives dad credit for anything. Polite sons know to thank their mothers for dinners made and stuff like that, but none of them ever say, “Hey Dad, I sure to appreciate how you worked so hard to keep on the lights in this house. I just want to thank you for paying the mortgage Dad.” Can you imagine that? Dad’s want to be appreciated. That’s maybe what’s on their Christmas list. Could that be true. That way of thinking is based on a generalization. One that’s not always true for most families, as so many women are now the bread winners, but maybe it sounds close enough and maybe this does too: that so many mothers live with the fear of what their children are telling a therapist about them. If any of this regarding mothers and fathers really just wanting appreciation and forgiveness rings true, then think about John the Baptist as some kind of Santa Clause for grown-ups, because instead of a wish list of presents, people voice to him all their mistakes, regrets, and second guessing. Then, on Christmas morning they look under the tree to find God’s grace. That’s nice to think about, isn’t it? But that’s what this is all about. John called people to be honest about the desires of their heart, so what heavy burden do you want to lay down? What mistake did you make that you need to be forgiven for? What did you say that you wish you never would have said? What did you do that you wish you never would have done? Speak now and know that one is coming who has healing in his wings. What we see here in the Gospel of Mark is just the tip of the iceberg of the great miracle of Christianity, the true center of our faith. The real focal point, the chief creed, the unique and defining attribute of what is required to follow Jesus, namely: opening ourselves up to receive the grace he brings. My world religions teacher said it like that in college. Someone asked him, “what is unique about Christianity?” There are so many commonalities between the great world religions, what makes Christianity different? He said it was grace. That in all the world’s great religions, all those faiths that call people to higher ideals of love and hope, it is Christianity which most boldly proclaims among them all: your imperfection is no hinderance. You don’t need to be ashamed or afraid. Be honest before God about what you wished you’d done and just start again. It’s not too late. Today is a new day. That feels to me like an especially important message this year, because who among us really feels like right now, this year, they’re being their best self? You know what our girls told me? They said, “Daddy, you’ve gotten a lot meaner since you turned 40.” I don’t think that’s true, but things do grate on me more now than they used to. I am shorter with them than I want to be but being on Zoom calls for hours at a time is just doing something to my head, so when they leave their lunch boxes on the floor in the kitchen or yell at each other in the living room, it pushes me over the edge a lot sooner than it did a year ago. Maybe we’re all stretched a little too thin. Maybe we’re wearing down in ways we’re not used to. But let me tell you this too: That world religions professor from college: I walked into his classroom on the day of the test, only I didn’t know it was the day of the test. He could tell I was surprised and unprepared, and so he offered me grace. He said, “you can come to my office in two days to take the test then.” Well, I did that, only I wasn’t prepared two days later either. Why? Because grace without repentance is wasted grace. Admitting that there’s something not quite right is the perfect place for our grown-up Christmas lists to start. Why? Because Grace is coming, but to receive it, we must first get OK with the truth, that we all need it.