It's Not Fair

Scripture Lessons: Genesis 45: 3-11 and Luke 6: 27-38 Sermon Title: It’s Not Fair Preached on February 24, 2019 You know what’s not fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair. It’s not fair that some people never get what they deserve. And it’s not fair that Jesus tells us to keep being nice to them anyway. It’s not fair. For as long as I’ve lived such injustice has burned me up. It began with the unearned attention lavished upon my cute little sister. There are some big brothers and big sisters in the congregation this morning who know exactly what I’m talking about, and I’m just going to say it. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair, how everyone things they’re so cute. I remember when my Dad came home with a camcorder – it was the big kind, and by the time this technology was inexpensive enough for him to buy one, I was an awkward pre-teen that wanted to hide from the camera, but my sister was little and really cute, with curly red hair. So, today if you watch our family’s old home movies, it’s basically just one long tap dance routine featuring Elizabeth Evans. Everyone thinks little sisters are so cute. It’s not fair. You know what else isn’t fair – not only do little brothers and sisters get all the attention, they also get to do everything sooner. Some big sister here remembers how her little sister got her ears pierced sooner than she did. Some big brother resents how his little sister didn’t have to wait as long to get a cell phone. I remember how I wanted to go see a PG movie. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. It had bad words in it, so my parents said I had to wait to see it until I was 12, but you know when my little sister got to see it? The day I turned 12 and she was 8, because my Mom couldn’t take us to two separate movies. It’s just not fair – and it would burn me up – the injustice of it all. But you know what my Mom would say? You can guess. “Life’s not fair, Joe.” That’s what she would say, and believe it or not, that didn’t make me feel any better. For generations this has been the case. The youngest gets special treatment. The consolation from Scripture for those of us who are older siblings this morning is twofold: 1. No matter how much favoritism our little brothers and sisters received, it probably wasn’t as much as the favoritism little Joseph received from his father Jacob in the book of Genesis. 2. In the book of Genesis, we get to see this favored little brother get what he deserves. That’s right. I said it. And if you never had the urge to sell your little brother into slavery, then clearly your sibling experience was not the same as mine. Little Joseph was their father’s favorite, and old Jacob didn’t even hide this fact. In fact – he broadcast it for everyone to see. You’ve heard about Joseph’s multi-colored coat that his daddy gave him. If you look that up in our new Bibles, which are the New Revised Standard Version you’ll see that scholars now believe, based on better translations of the ancient scrolls, that the special robe was not multi-colored but long sleeved. This detail may not seem so important until you think about how much work people do in short sleeves compared to long sleeves. It’s as though all the sons of Jacob were lined up as a work crew. Jacob, their father, handed all the brothers a shovel, but gave to young Joseph the clipboard. Do you know what I’m talking about? But it gets worse – much worse! Joseph dreamed, you see. Young Joseph, at the age of 17, told his brothers, “Listen to this dream that I dreamed. There we were, binding sheaves in the field. Suddenly my sheaf rose and stood upright; then your sheaves gathered around it, and bowed down to my sheaf.” How do you think his brothers responded to that? Scripture tells us that “they hated him even more because of his dreams,” and after he had another one involving eleven stars bowing down to Joseph, center of the universe, his brothers decided to get rid of him. They were all out watching the flock. Jacob sent Joseph out there to check on them (Of course, he did). When they saw him coming they decided to kill him, throw him into a pit, and tell their father that a wild animal had devoured him. Fortunately, Reuben spoke up: “Let’s just throw him in the pit and teach him a lesson.” Well, before Reuben could do all that, Judah, another brother, saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels on their way down to Egypt. So, they pulled Joseph up and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. From this point, the story gets worse of course. It all gets worse for Joseph before it gets better. Once the Ishmaelites make it to Egypt, Joseph is sold to Potiphar, whose wife tries to seduce him, then accuses him of forcing himself upon her after he refuses. Despite the baseless nature of the accusations, like many powerless people, he’s thrown into prison. Can you imagine how nasty that prison must have been? There was no TV to watch. No weights to lift. I can just imagine Joseph spending all his time drawing pictures on the cell wall of all the horrible things he would do to his brothers if he ever got back home. Vengeance gives us something to occupy our minds, but it rots our souls, so it’s a good thing his new cell mates started dreaming. At this point in the last service, while I was telling this story, I noticed that a couple men on the back row started dreaming too. This is a long story I know, but we have to know it. It will change our lives, so let me keep going. Folks began to seek Joseph out, and eventually his ability to interpret dreams reaches Pharaoh. Pharaoh keeps having these bad dreams, and he seeks out the young man locked up in prison. Pharaoh dreamed that he was standing on the bank of the Nile; and seven cows, fat and sleek, come up out of the Nile and feed in the reed grass. Then seven other cows came up after them, poor, very ugly, and thin. The thin and ugly cows ate up the first seven fat cows, but when they had eaten them no one would have known that they had done so, for they were still as ugly as before. Joseph said to Pharaoh, “This is what your dream means. There will come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt. But after them there will rise seven years of famine, and all the plenty will be forgotten in the land of Egypt; the famine will consume the land. The plenty will no longer be known.” This is a bad dream, but fortunately, Joseph also has in mind a solution. He says to Pharaoh: “So, during the years of plenty, let Pharaoh select a man who is discerning and wise and set him over the land of Egypt, that he might take one fifth of the produce of the land during the seven plenteous years. That food shall be a reserve for the land against the seven years of famine.” Pharaoh thinks this is a good idea, and so he said to Joseph: “Since God has shown you all this, I will set you over the land of Egypt to do it.” Imagine that – instantly he goes from the jail cell to the corner office. He goes from plotting revenge, to saving an empire from famine. In one moment, he’s consumed with his bad luck, but in the next – he’s amazed by his good fortune, only he’s also faced with the difficult reality that none of it ever would have happened had his brothers not sold him in the first place. What do you do with that? What do any of us do with the reality, that despite what ever unfairness we’ve faced, still we receive God’s blessing? What do we do with the truth – that even when we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of death, we will fear no evil? And how will we treat our enemies and all those who have wronged us, once we realize that in all things God has done wonderful things for us and for our salvation? Joseph is about to find out what he’ll do, for while Joseph goes from slave to prisoner, to high office in the Empire, life for his brothers has been difficult. The first two of those seven years of famine has come, and the only nation anywhere who has any food is Egypt. In desperation, the brothers make their way to Egypt, and bow their heads before Pharaoh’s right-hand man. In this moment, Joseph’s dream that his brothers would bow down before him like sheaves in the filed or stars in the sky comes true. But what will Joseph do? What will he do when his brothers, once so much bigger, now bow before him? What do any of us do to those who have hurt us, considering how God provides us, not with just punishment, but with a cup of blessing? Certainly, Joseph doesn’t kill them. How could he? That’s what they expect, but that’s not what Joseph could possibly do, for God’s love has changed things – changed the definition of fairness for evermore. So, Joseph says: “God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth. It was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt.” Do you see what happened? All our lives we’ve been demanding fairness, so we naturally want to see the bad guys punished and the bullies get a return on the abuse they’ve dished out. We might naturally say that it’s not fair that these brothers, who threw him into a pit aren’t thrown into a jail cell. We might say that it’s not fair that these brothers, who sold him into slavery, aren’t sold into slavery themselves. That it’s not fair – that these brothers deserve, exactly what they subjected Joseph to – years away from their family, forced to survive in a foreign land – that they too deserve to spend several years of long dark nights wondering if they’ll ever make it back home again or if they’ll even survive until the next day. But for Joseph, in all of that suffering some other power was at work, some other hand was making a way – placing Joseph in a seat of power that he might not only save himself, but his entire family. You see – based on human definitions of fairness, based on what they’ve done, these brothers deserve punishment, but in all those long years leading up to this moment, Joseph learned that there’s another definition of fairness at work in our lives – and God’s grace which defines us, isn’t what we call fair. My mother was right. Life isn’t fair, and we Christians know it, for instead of punishment for our sins, what do we receive from God? Forgiveness. Rather than judgement, grace. God’s fairness isn’t like our fairness – for God’s grace isn’t fair. It takes the sin of jealous brothers and saves them from themselves. It takes broken men and women and ends their suffering by putting them back together. God takes us, in all our depravity, and provides us with life and love and sunshine. You see – God’s idea of fairness is embodied in Christ up on the Cross who looked down on those who put him there and said, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” That’s why we can’t be surprised that he says, “Love your enemies,” for God hasn’t stopped loving them any more than God has stopped loving us. Our God “is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked,” and we must be merciful, just as our Father is merciful to us. That’s not fair – it’s so easy to say. Grace isn’t fair, but we’ve received it – and must not nullify it by failing to pass it on. Amen.

From Whom All Blessings Flow

Scripture Lessons: Jeremiah 17: 5-10 and Luke 6: 17-26 Sermon Title: From Whom All Blessings Flow Preached on February 17, 2019 Isn’t it amazing how things can change? Our two Scripture Lessons deal with change. Jeremiah reminds us that those who put their trust in their own strength are cursed. Why? Because human bodies change. Human strength may be here one day but gone the next. Jesus reminds us of the same thing – those who are blessed now will not be forever, and those who are poor today may not be tomorrow, for no one but God can completely control the way things are. That’s more obvious sometimes than others. Last Tuesday it was obvious. That’s because last Tuesday I got caught in the rain and it became obvious how things change and how little control I have over it. Do you remember how much it rained last Tuesday? Back in Tennessee they’d call it a gully washer. In South Georgia they call it a frog strangler – and Justis Brogan and I were walking back from lunch at Stockyard, that place with the really good hamburgers on the Square. Neither of us had an umbrella or anything, so just we ran to take cover. The first place safe to stand was under an awning at Jane Pratt’s office. Jane Pratt works right on the corner there, and she has great big windows in front of her office, so she saw us standing out there looking pathetic. She invited us in and gave us both plastic bags, that was the best she could do – but at least our perms wouldn’t go flat. Jane was very helpful and kind, but there wasn’t really anything she could do. It was raining too hard, and sometimes that’s how it is. We don’t always have control over these things – and one might be dry one minute but wet the next. We don’t have control over all our blessings or our woes. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God,” is what Jesus said – but that only makes sense – to say that the poor are blessed - if you recognize that the way things are now isn’t how they’ll always be. We don’t always recognize that. We tend to take blessings for granted, and wind up feeling stuck in our woes. Natalie Foster was nearby working the car rider line for our preschool when Justis and I ran up soaking wet. Natalie notices every time I go out to lunch, because she never gets to. She works at the preschool as their assistant director, so she has to eat lunch here and her lunch probably always gets sneezed on by preschoolers. So, she looked at me all wet, like a drowned rat and said, “You might expect me to feel sorry for you, but I don’t.” I mean – I was soaked. I was so wet, but Natalie Foster said, “Ate lunch out again, I see. Even if you’re all wet, that’s still better than some people’s lunch hour.” I thought I had it pretty bad, but sometimes you don’t know how good you have it. You take blessings for granted and get stuck in your woes. That’s true. There have been plenty of times when I was ignorant as to just how good I have it. I learned over lunch that Justis works at the airport. 45-minute commute. I can ride my bike back and forth from our house to here 7 or 8 times in the amount of time it takes him to get to work once. Sometimes you don’t know how good you have it – until you look around and see what it’s like for other people. That’s one of the things that happened to me when we went to Mexico on a Mission Trip with this church back when I was in High School. I’d gone my whole life thinking that I was born into a middle class, average American family. Two cars in the garage, running water, heat in the winter, AC in the summer, biggest problem: teenage acne. I’d gone my whole like thinking those things made me average, but in Mexico I went to a neighborhood that made me realize just how lucky I was. Do you know what I mean? To get water in that neighborhood we went to, not unlike the neighborhood in Mexico where we go and build houses now – you walked to the store to buy it. I’m not talking about buying fancy drinking water in 12 packs at the store. See, we buy water at the store by choice, they have to buy water at the store because clean drinking water piped into the house is a luxury not available to all God’s children. One of the many problems with our society today, isn’t just that some have, and others have not – it’s also that many of us who have, are blind to how good we have it. The problem with that can be obvious after watching the news. The government shut down recently. It may be shutting down again, and maybe that has to happen every now and then. Maybe it’s too much to ask that politicians deal with controversy in a decent and civil manner, but it’s not too much to ask that wealthy politicians be empathetic to those government employees who live pay check to pay check. “Let them take out loans,” someone said, which is too much like Marie Antionette saying, “Let them eat cake,” and what they don’t realize is that any second everything could change, and they could end up in the same boat with those employees losing their homes. In our world today, many wealthy people suffer from a certain kind of arrogance. Some suffer from an absence of empathy – unable to understand what it’s like when you’re working 9 to 5. Dolly Parton understood: Tumble out of bed and stumble in the kitchen Pour myself a cup of ambition. You know that song? It’s catchy, but it’s also pretty radical. It’s a rich man’s game no matter what they call it And you spend your life putting money in his wallet. And she keeps going: In the same boat with a lot of your friends Waitin’ for the day when your ship’ll come in And the tide’s gonna turn And it’s gonna roll your way. That sounds like the Beatitudes. Sounds like the whole Gospel of Luke as a matter of fact. Mary sang about it in the Magnificat way back in Luke chapter 1: He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, And lifted up the lowly; He has filled the hungry with good things, And sent the rich away empty. Throughout this whole book of Luke runs the theme that Dolly sang about: But the tide’s gonna turn And it’s all gonna roll your way. Why? Because God’s in charge. “Blessed are you who are poor,” Jesus said, “for yours is the kingdom of heaven.” “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.” “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” “Blessed are you when people hate you, for surely your reward is great in heaven.” In the Gospel of Luke, he said these things to a crowd assembled on a level place – not on a mountain, but in a place where all people sat on one level; no one higher than the other. There was no partiality – no Jew or Gentile, no slave or free – just one people sitting before the Son of God hearing the truth – that those who have nothing now have everything to gain, but those who have everything now – they have everything to lose. “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.” “Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep,” These are harsh words for those of us who go out to lunch on the Square every day of the week to eat $10.00 hamburgers. These are harsh words for most all of us – but they’re important to hear, because too many of us have forgotten that we’re only doing just fine, because it hasn’t started raining. Then once the rain has started – we forgot how to see rain for the blessing that it is, and we’re too slow to give thanks to God who is the source of it. Rev. Joe Brice, the Sage of Paulding County, he told me that last year on Father’s Day his son called him up, and he said, “Dad, since it’s Father’s Day, I’m wanting for us all to come over to your house, so you can cook us anything that we want. And, while you’re at the store buying the food, why don’t you pick yourself out a card from all of us. Something real nice.” CS Lewis once wrote that we’re all like Joe’s kids – our Father in Heaven, He gave us $10.00 so we could go to the store to buy him a birthday present, but we spent $9.00 on ourselves and $1.00 on the present. And that’s if we’re tithing. We don’t know how good we have it, and we’re ignorant as to where it came from, as though wealth and blessings just fell from the sky. What’s more entitled than that? “Blessed are the poor,” Jesus said – but “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” and you never even stopped to thank God for it. Jeremiah said it like this: Blessed are those who trust in the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves will stay green; In the year of drought, it is not anxious. Why – because they know from whom all blessings flow. Let us live as those who daily thank the source of all our blessings – who put our trust in the Lord, and who daily live caring for our brothers and sisters who have less, knowing that any minute we could be in the same boat with them. Amen.

Caught Red Handed

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 6: 1-8 and Luke 5: 1-11 Sermon Title: Caught Red Handed Preached on February 10, 2019 Today we remember two beautiful and revealing accounts of how two faithful people – two pillars of our faith tradition – started out on their journey to change the world as they knew it. From the book of Isaiah, we read about how this prophet was called – how he responded when he found himself standing in the presence of God, and in our Second Scripture Lesson there’s a similar account. The Gospel of Luke told us the story of how the Apostle Peter, the rock that Christ’s Church would be built upon, reacted when he realized one man aboard his ship was no ordinary man at all. Jesus told Peter, who was then called Simon, to “put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch… When they had done so, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break… They signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them” but when they came and filled both boats with fish, the boats began to sink. How does Peter respond? “He fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.”” This is the picture of repentance and humility. It’s a picture of complete vulnerability and confession. His boats are sinking, his livelihood is disappearing before his eyes and yet “he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man.”” Can you imagine? This place that Peter finds himself in is a humbling place to be – to be in the presence of God and feel your sinfulness become fully revealed. Do you know what that’s like? I do. I’m a parent. Most recently it was Lily who made it happen. She’s our nine-year-old daughter, our first born, she was with her basketball team, and because she’s playing in the church league over there at Roswell Street Baptist Church, the coach was admonishing them to memorize their weekly Scripture Verse – Hebrews 11: 1. “Girls,” he says, “I want you to have that verse memorized by next practice.” Lily says, “But we don’t have a Bible at home.” Do you know how the other parents looked at me? I wanted to shield my face, “Go away from me, for I am a sinful man.” And of course, we have a Bible. We have a hundred Bibles, but this moment last Monday reminded me of that place of humility that Peter found himself in. In light of our Scripture Lessons for this morning, that experience made me wonder – what should we faithful people do when we are caught red handed and our sin becomes obvious? This morning we have two good examples of what to do from Scripture. And we can contrast these two examples with what we see on the news and in the paper, for out in the world today we have at least one example of what not to do when we’re caught red handed. I’m talking about one Governor’s yearbook photos this morning of course, but before I name his name let me first make the obvious statement that should anyone have a copy of the 1998 Marietta High School yearbook, I’ll pay top dollar if it never sees the light of day. The thing about yearbooks is that even if you weren’t pictured in yours wearing a racist Halloween costume like the Governor of Virginia was, the person you were then probably doesn’t resemble the person you are now. Whether you were a long haired, rebellious, class clown like me with a distaste for respectable citizens and authority, or a medical student with a lack of empathy for his African-American neighbors like Governor Northam, I am sure there are parts of who you once were that you are now embarrassed of. There are things that you once did that you now regret. There may be photographic evidence that you too are or once were “a sinful man” or woman who would feel ashamed to be in the presence of God, because that’s part of being young and because that’s just part of the human condition. I was reminded of that last weekend. Last weekend I was out of town. I hated to miss Youth Sunday. I watched it last Sunday afternoon and I’m so proud of our youth group. I’m proud of Melissa Gilbert who was given the Jimmy Scarr Award for all the work she’s done to make our youth group so strong. But I missed being here, because I’ve made a commitment to my college roommates. Every year we get together for one weekend in February, and if I miss it then I’ll be the one they talk about. Actually, none of us ever miss it. When we get together it’s as though, for that short time, nothing has changed. Our friendship is timeless. And I was playing horseshoes with my old friend Sam, and I asked him, “Does being together like this make you miss college?” Sam said, “I miss all of us having the freedom to spend so much time together, but I don’t miss being as stupid as we were then.” Neither do I – but I still mistakes. I’m human, and you are too, so maybe we all need to look to Peter and Isaiah to see what it is that we should do when we’re caught red handed. When the person we aspire to be and the decisions we’ve made don’t match up. When the ghosts of the past rise up to haunt us. When the skeletons won’t stay in the closet. When Jesus comes to see us, and we are ashamed to stand in his presence. What should we do? Look to Isaiah. When he was in God’s presence, when the doorways shook, and the house of God filled with smoke, he didn’t dare double down on his lie or make up excuses, but was bold to say, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” And look to Peter. He didn’t deny that he was the man in the hood. He didn’t pretend he didn’t recognize himself in the picture, but fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Do you know how faithful you have to be to do something like that? Do you know how courageous you have to be to do something like that? In our world today, too many see confession as failure. Too many see needing forgiveness as a weakness. But as imperfect people, how are we ever to stand before God in truth if we deal with being caught by pretending that we aren’t guilty? I think about my grandfather. My grandfather who was bold to tell me how, even way out in the wilderness of the Caw Caw Swamp where he grew up, even there the lines of race were drawn so severely that when a group of men came to work at his family’s farm, the white workers were welcomed into the house to eat in the kitchen while the African American men were served lunch on the back steps of the house. He once told me, “As a young adult, I resented everything that Martin Luther King Jr. said, but he saved us from ourselves, Joe, he saved us from ourselves.” If only we too, can be bold enough to fall at his feet when we’ve been caught red handed, rather than double down on the lie that we’ve been telling. If only we too can be bold enough to confess our sins and name it out loud, rather than pretend that we’re not guilty. If only we too can say it – “I am a sinful man” – rather than say, “The man in the picture, he’s not me.” And I know it’s hard. Of course, it’s hard. It’s seems as though the world doesn’t believe in forgiveness any more. It seems as though the world is running short on grace. Because the world will take your vulnerability and will post it on the headlines for everyone to see – but I tell you this – that’s not so with Jesus. In me, there’s unworthiness, but in him there’s grace. In me, there’s sin, but in him there’s forgiveness. In me, there’s regret, but in him there’s the invitation to live a new life. And that’s what I want. Is that what you want? Of course it is – but it’s not only the thing that we want, it’s the thing that the world needs. So, the Lord took that Peter, and he picked him as one of his disciples, and he said to him and his friends, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” At first that must have sounded funny. Catching people? I don’t know about you, but once I catch a fish, I gut it then I fry it. And that doesn’t sound so good. So, listen to this – imagine instead that what Jesus means here is that we are a people, drowning under water, and he called on Peter to start pulling some people out. A Bible Scholar named Gay L. Byron said that’s what Jesus is really getting after here, and I believe her because I know that Jesus isn’t like the media who is prone capitalize on weakness in order to sell more papers. He’s not interested in that, “for God did not send the son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Do you know that one? That’s a good one to memorize, but you might not have a Bible at home, so write it down before you leave today. My poor Lily. Ray Fountain posted on Facebook the other day, “It’s dangerous to live with a preacher, because anything you do might be used as a sermon illustration.” That’s true. I’m always looking for sermon illustrations. In fact, I can’t help but see them. Everything that I see in this world is either proving to me that God is at work or is proving to me that something has to change. And today, what I know has to change – is that you and I, sinful men and women who have fallen at the feet of Jesus and found forgiveness must get to work pulling up drowning people. Fishing for people - pulling up those who are drowning in the past – letting them know that a past of racism need not result in a future of it. That a past ignorance, failures, or mistakes – they’re not a Scarlet Letter ensuring condemnation – but the proof that what Christ offers is exactly what we need. We must go fishing. Fishing for people, that all those who are drowning in shame, regret, and fear of condemnation, might come up out of the water to feel the fresh air that the Holy Spirit blows, the warm rays of forgiveness and acceptance that shine forth from the Son of God, the brother and sisterhood of all people regardless of race, creed, nationality, orientation, gender, or language – for every one of us is red handed – but to every one of us he issues this call: Go, and fish for people, letting them know that we’re just a bunch of forgiven sinners, and they can be too. Amen.

When the Wine Gave Out

Scripture Lessons: Song of Solomon 8: 6-7 and John 2: 1-11 Sermon Title: When the wine gave out Preached on January 27, 2019 Weddings. You plan, and you plan, but something always seems to go wrong. At the wedding in Cana of Galilee it was the wine that gave out, but it’s always something. It’s no wonder marriage is hard, just the wedding is hard. There’s a great story I heard about a wedding back in Tennessee that took place in a Baptist church. The groom and his father walk out from the front, but during their processional they somehow trip and fall into the baptismal font. “I guess they got a two for one deal – married and baptized in the same ceremony,” someone said. As a preacher I’m proud to be a part of weddings. I’m proud to have had the honor of being a part of some of your weddings, but our own – when planning our wedding I only had one job: to secure a soloist. And when a friend offered to sing at our wedding, I thought to myself, “That was easy.” I just took him up on his offer, which took care of that, but I never thought to ask whether or not he could sing. So, the first time I heard him sing was when Sara and I were up there, just having made our vows. He was so bad we could hardly keep a straight face. My cousin asked if I had asked him to sing that way because I thought it would be funny, but I hadn’t. Weddings. Something has to go wrong. When I officiate, I get to stand right up front next to the groom as the bride walks down the aisle. I get to watch as he sees her walking toward him, which is a special thing to get to see, but there are other things that the preacher sees. Sometimes I’m the person who knows the most about what’s lurking below the surface. Sometimes I know where the bride’s father is and why he’s not there walking his daughter down the aisle. Sometimes I know why the groom’s grandmother can’t stop crying, or what it was that caused the wedding to start 5 minutes late. Sometimes I have an idea of the disfunction that’s been covered up. The pain that everyone has agreed to momentarily push aside. Sometimes I know that this day is meant to be perfect, so I keep my mouth shut, because if it can’t be perfect, at least we can pretend it is. Right? But Jesus’ mother – she said something about it. Did you notice that? Mary, the mother of Jesus goes to her son and makes a big request that masquerades as a simple observation, “They have no wine.” So, at this wedding – no groom fell in the baptismal font, the soloist sang on key, the ceremony started on time, daddy was there to walk the bride down the aisle, and grandma at least pretended to be happy, but the wine gave out – that’s what went wrong with this wedding – something always goes wrong. That’s what went wrong at this one, and if you’ve ever been at a wedding reception when the drinks ran out than you know that this would bring an embarrassing and abrupt end to the party. No one wants that to happen – but no one wants anyone to know that something is going wrong either, so I can just imagine the mother of that bride discreetly rushing up to the steward in charge of the wine and loudly whispering: “Do something about this! Do anything! Go to the store – there must be one open. I think there’s some Kool-Aid packets in my purse – just mix them up with some water and add some vodka. Maybe no one will notice.” Do you know that feeling? The wine has run out – but you don’t want anyone to notice. Something is going terribly wrong, but it’s too hard to speak of it. The appearance of perfection keeps you from asking for help. All that is extremely dangerous, because if we can’t have a perfect wedding – if we can’t do perfect even for one day, there’s no chance of a perfect life, so we must learn to be vulnerable – vulnerable enough to ask for help when the wine gives out. Some people are better at that then others. I grew up with a woman named Mandy Swartwood who’s getting good at it. Her parents are Bob and Judy Harper, and on Facebook I noticed that Mandy posted a picture of herself drinking out of a coffee mug that said on the side, “World’s OK-est Mom”. I thought that was funny, and she cited an article from the Today show website: “Moms, sometimes it’s OK to be ‘just OK.’ It was a captivating article. The journalist, Nicki Snyder, is a mother of three boys. Her oldest is 7, and she described one afternoon and evening with her children like this: Husband had to work late, so I had to pick up the boys from the babysitter. After arguing with one of the 7-year olds on the sidewalk for what felt like 27 minutes about why his “pulled hamstring” (barely there bruise on his leg) should not be causing him to walk at the pace of a slug, we made it into the car. Everyone buckled, we survived the 6-minute drive home. Walked in the door, everyone is starrrrrrrving. Made 3 separate simple dinners for each of them because heaven forbid they eat the same thing and I had about 10 minutes before someone over-dramatically “passed out” from hunger. Listened to one complain about why ketchup is too spicy and another yell at me for not signing his homework yet. Opened refrigerator door on 3-year old’s head. Soothed screaming 3-year-old. Unpacked backpacks while they were eating, found nerf bullets and one shoe in one backpack. Decided not to ask why. Packed lunches for tomorrow. Listened to all 3 whine about tablets and Nintendo not being allowed at dinner table. Cleaned up dinner and dishes. Cleaned up the disastrous mess puppy decided to leave upstairs while boys were eating dinner. Stared at myself in the mirror and silently encouraged myself to breathe and just. keep. going. Finally changed out of my heels. I can’t relate to the heels part, but I do know this feeling. Maybe you do too. It’s like how you sanitized every pacifier that fell on the floor for your first child. For your second child you washed it off in the sink. But for your third, you just stuck the thing right back in his mouth. Of course, it’s one thing to do that – it’s another thing to let someone know about it. That’s why my favorite quote to read at weddings comes from one of the great icons of Christianity, Ruth Bell Graham, who was married to Rev. Billy Graham. Someone once asked her if she had ever considered divorce. She said, “No, though I often considered murder.” How nice to know – that even for her, the wine could go out. How nice to know – that even for her, there were hard days. How nice to know – that even for her, not every day was sunshine and roses, but for even the woman married to one of the greatest preachers in history there was struggle. There were days when the best laid plans fell apart. And that’s true for everyone, but we don’t always talk about it. Sometimes we think, “Even if I’m not perfect, maybe I can appear that way.” That’s a true temptation – but I ask you this – do the sick get healed by pretending to be well? Do the broken get mended by pretending that they’re not in pain? Will the marriage get better so long as the couple suffers in silence? Will everything be OK so long as no one knows? You know the answer to these questions – and there it is in the Scripture Lesson. Why does Jesus turn this water into wine? Why does he save the wedding from disaster? Because his mother had the courage to tell him. Because someone decided to stop covering up. Because she was bold to trust that the one with grace enough to cover all our sins and power to heal the brokenness and a voice that can calm the storm who may come to our aid just as soon as we’re ready to stop pretending that we don’t need his help. It might be hard to call out to Jesus. It takes real courage to ask for help. It might take everything to put up the white flag of surrender – but if we never tell him that the wine has given out – then the one who can turn water to wine never has a chance to make a miracle happen. Too often we suffer in silence as the wine gives out. We worry about making that appointment with the counselor. We keep walking in pain – afraid of the diagnosis. We fail to lean on the everlasting arms of Christ our Savior – trying to stand up on our own two feet in the storms of this life. But we can’t do it ourselves. We can’t even pull off the perfect wedding, so how could we possibly make it through life without some help? When the wine gives out – call on him. And watch what he can do. Amen.

A Hometown Prophet

Scripture Lessons: Nehemiah 8: 1-3, 5-6, 8-10 and Luke 4: 14-30 Sermon Title: A Hometown Prophet Preached on January 20, 2019 While completely inadvisable and completely ridiculous, there are times when congregations draw faint comparisons between their preacher and Jesus. And that happened to me before I began to serve a church back in my hometown. Just weeks before we arrived in Columbia, Tennessee, where I would serve the First Presbyterian Church there, a woman named Wanda Turner found out my age. She called her friend Mrs. Cotham and asked her if she’d heard that their new pastor was only 29 years old. Mrs. Cotham paused, then thoughtfully responded to her friend: “Well, Jesus was only 30 when he began his ministry. And Wanda, let’s just hope we don’t crucify the poor boy before he turns 32.” They didn’t. Because I’m not Jesus. Jesus was absolutely remarkable. That great preacher, William Sloan Coffin, once wrote: “Deserted by his disciples, in agony on the cross, barely thirty years old, Christ said, “It is finished.” And thus ended the most complete life ever lived.” Jesus and I, we may both have been called to preach in the community we grew up in, but the comparison ends right there. For one thing – rather than try to throw me off a cliff, you have been far more kind to me than I deserve. Ya’ll are too good to me. But the point I want to make here is that Jesus is different. And you can’t compare any preacher to Jesus, especially not the one standing before you now, because He offends us preachers as much as anyone. It’s true. Jesus is too honest to be polite all the time. He can be so blunt and plain spoken as to cause offence. Not everyone talks about that, but it’s clear from Scripture that Jesus was not all the time petting sheep and holding little children in his lap. Jesus was tough. He kicked over the tables set up in the Temple. He called the religious authorities of the time a bunch of “whitewashed tombs.” And once he even said to his friend Peter, “Get behind me Satan! You are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” There’s a great story from the writer Anne Lamont. She tells this story of a women’s Bible study, and they go around the circle prompted by the leader to answer the question: “Who has been like Jesus to you?” One told about her grandmother who lived next door to her growing up, and whenever she had a bad day at school she’d go over there, and it must have been that somehow her grandmother could feel her coming, because on those really bad days she’d walk in and her grandmother would be taking freshly baked chocolate cookies right out of the oven. “She was like Jesus to me,” the woman said. Then another talked about her dedicated and faithful golden retriever, who lay by her side through her divorce. But then the last woman in the group had to speak, and she had been thinking about the question deeply. As though this incident that took place when Jesus went back to his hometown were on her mind she said, “This is a hard one to answer, because I have to think about a person who has been so honest with me that I wanted to kill him.” Jesus can be, not just comforting, but offensive, because there are things that we do that he just won’t tolerate. He stands, not just beside us, but so genuinely wants what’s best for us, that he pushes us towards justice and righteousness and challenges us when we’re only paying lip service to the Gospel. If he’s the Word of God incarnate, then facing him demands that we face our sin and all the ways we fail to embody the Love of God. And that’s not just true of Jesus. That’s true of Scripture in general. The event I read about from the Old Testament Book of Nehemiah, where the Word of God was read, and it caused all the people to weep – it sounds strange, but if the Word of God is the truth, then it ought to cause us to wonder about how much truth we’re really living. So, Jesus, that Word of God Incarnate, tells us as he did his hometown that regardless of whether we’re his mother, his brother, or the guys he used to play ball with – he gets down to the heart of things and says not what’s polite, not what we want to hear, but what we need to hear. There he was back home. They had heard about him. They knew who he was and what he could do. They were probably hoping for what any of us would be hoping for – that this hometown boy would lift them up and out of their hardship. That he would heal their wounds and save them from affliction. That he would bring a little prosperity to the regions, and free them all from oppression. That he would make the changes that would benefit them and make their life easier. “Will you save us, Jesus? Surely you are here to save us.” Jesus answers: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, Because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives And recovery of sight to the blind, To let the oppressed go free, To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. This is a remarkable response, and in case what he was saying wasn’t clear enough he tells them exactly what he means: The truth is, there were many widows in Israel at the time of Elijah, but who did God send him to? An out of town widow. And there were plenty of lepers among his own people at the time of the prophet Elisha, but who did God tell him to heal? Their enemy’s general, Naaman the Syrian. They want him to help out his own, and he says he’s been sent out to serve someone else’s widows and their enemy’s general. How could that possibly go over well? Maybe, now you’re starting to understand why they wanted to throw him off that cliff. It’s as though you brought a pastor back to his hometown and he walks in one Sunday morning and says, “It sure is good to be home, but I think I’ll just go over to the Methodist church to preach today.” Wouldn’t that be something? But it’s more than that even. What Jesus is saying is far more than that, because he wasn’t saying that God was sending him to the folks on the other side of town. He was saying that, “The Lord has sent me to serve the people on the other side of the wall you’ve been trying to build.” In Jesus Christ it becomes so obvious – that where we see difference – hometown and out of town, native and foreign, legal and illegal, us and them – God just sees His Children. But there’s more – he’s calling us to see the same way. So, this Sunday morning, as we do one of the most amazing things that Presbyterians do – as we ordain and install the new leaders of our church – who are all of them called to be elders and deacons in their own hometown, we must remember that while they were elected by you – they are called to serve in a way that honors our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We might all think that they’ve been called to do what we want them to do and to follow our orders – but no. It’s God who calls them and it’s God who they must serve. And this God of ours, incarnate in Jesus Christ, calls them, not only to serve this church, but beyond these walls. Not only to nurture the members of this church who have been here for years, but to welcome those who are walking in for the very first time, for all those who walk in these doors, whether they look like us or not, all of them are God’s children. Officers of the church – your call is to bring honor, not only to those who you know and love, but to those who God loves. You must be dedicated, not only to the survival of this church, but that the Gospel be proclaimed here, and to the ends of the earth. Set your hearts on justice, that your ears be tuned to hear the cries of the poor and the oppressed. May your lives be lived, not only for us, but for the least and the lost, that you serve the Lord who served them all. Amen.

When Emmanuel Was Baptized

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 43: 1-7 and Luke 3: 15-22 Sermon Title: When Emmanuel Was Baptized Preached on 1.13.19 There’s a church bell in our steeple. It rang just a few minutes before this service started to call all of us to worship, to signal that it’s time to get into our seats and to prepare our hearts that we might focus our attention on the God of All Creation. But it’s one thing to hear that bell ring, and it’s another thing to touch it. Howard Swinford was kind enough to invite me up there to see our bell up close last week. Howard is one of those guys who has learned many of the secrets of our church. Before the renovation he emptied the buckets that caught the Sanctuary roof leaks, he knows what to do if the pips clang under our offices or if the air conditioner stops working in the summer, and he stopped by my office last Wednesday morning and invited me to climb the ladders that lead all the way up to our church bell. By telling you this, I imagine that I’m making some of you jealous and others of you nervous. But what I want to emphasize is how different it is to see something up close and personal, just like it’s different when someone sees us up close and personal. Many of us are conditioned to think of God as a far off heavenly being. To think of a God who lives way up in heaven or in purely spiritual, nebulous terms. But it’s in this season, during and after Christmas, that we remember how God was born in a manger. How the prophet called him Emmanuel, God with us. Not God above us, God with us. Not God in theory, but God in flesh and blood. Isn’t that something? On Christmas Eve we remembered how he was born of a Mother, just as we were. How the baby Jesus cried out when he was cold or hungry, just as we did. Then last Sunday we remembered how when he was born people brought him gifts. Last Sunday we remembered the baby Jesus’ baby shower. Now the Wise Men didn’t bring him a pack and play. He was like us, but also unlike us so they brought him gold, frankincense, and myrrh – gifts for a king –gifts for a Heavenly King who came down to be with us. He didn’t just listen to our prayers the way we hear the tolling of our bell. Our prayers were not words from some far off and removed place. No, he came to earth to touch our face. To wipe the tears from our eyes. Isn’t that wonderful? And today we remember how he was baptized in the Jordan. Now, here’s something to think about: why was Jesus baptized? We often think of baptism being about the forgiveness of sins. We are washed in the waters and our sins are wiped away, but what sins did our perfect Lord need to be cleansed from? We know he was perfect, and so we have to consider what else baptism means. That baptism is also about initiation into a family of faith. That when a child is baptized in this church she becomes a part of this body. We all promise to love and support her. To be there when she cries and to pick her up when she falls. She becomes one of us and so Jesus did as well. I was baptized at Morningside Presbyterian Church in Atlanta. It’s there in the Virginia Highlands Neighborhood. My mother was raised a Baptist and didn’t think to have me baptized as an infant, so I was baptized when I was 7 there in Morningside Presbyterian Church. My father sang in the choir. My mother taught Sunday School. A woman named Perky Daniels was the preacher and a man named Jerry Black directed the choir. You might have met Jerry Black. After serving Morningside Presbyterian Church, Jerry moved out here like we did. He was the music director at Covenant Presbyterian Church and then John Knox, and about 20 years ago, when my father had a quadruple bypass heart surgery Jerry Black went to visit him. When my dad talks about it, if you watch his eyes you can tell how much that visit meant. And that’s because there’s a difference between hearing that your loved, hearing that you’re being prayed for, and having someone show up in your hospital room to do it. It’s the same as the difference between hearing a bell toll and touching it. When we consider love, it’s true that sometimes love needs up close and personal. Sometimes love needs not just words, but flesh and blood. And so, God – God takes flesh and blood, and no – he didn’t need to have any sins washed away, but He did need to be with us, to identify with us, to show us how deep is the love of God. Knowing all this changes things. I was reminded of that when I read an article Fran Summerville sent me. Fran Summerville is a Stephens Minister here at our church. She’s also my fourth cousin. Isn’t that amazing? She sent me an article about the link between spiritual and physical wellness. The article came from the Tennessean, that’s Nashville’s newspaper, and in it Dr. Dale Matthews, an associate professor of medicine at Georgetown University School of Medicine, says that “the mortality rate for people who attend religious services once a week or more is 25% lower in men and 35% lower in women” than those who go to their house of worship less frequently.” I wish I had been able to cite that statistic Christmas Eve when all our “Christmas and Easter Only’s” were here. “Doctors need to pay attention to these studies,” Matthews said, “and to what’s important to their patients. Some patients are just fed up. They’re saying ‘We’re sick of being on the assembly line. I want somebody who pays attention to my personhood and even my soul, not just my liver or gall bladder.’” Can you relate to that? Of course you can, because that’s how we’re treated most of the time. We call the office and end up talking to a machine. We want human contact, but all we get are emails. We go looking for real community, real connection, but it won’t do anything for the true state of our souls unless there’s some face to face and hand in hand as there is here. And that’s Jesus, you see? What was he born unto us for? But to make the love of God, no longer distant, but tangible. Why did the Wise Men bring him gifts? But to pay honor to the God of heaven come to earth. And why was he baptized in the Jordan by John, but to be a part of our life, to be a part of our family, to pay attention to our personhood and even our souls, not just our liver or gall bladder. You see, if God was like the tolling of some distant far off bell, in Jesus Christ we touch His face as he touches ours. That makes a difference, doesn’t it? But we don’t always get the chance, because sometimes life prevents real human contact. I have a debate with myself whenever I check out at the grocery store. You know – there are the lines where you can check yourself out with the help of a computer and the other lines that actually have a person standing behind them. I was at the Kroger years ago when those things were first introduced. That morning I was in a hurry but not too much of a hurry. I thought about the self-checkout line, the one with the computer, because it was empty. In the line with a actual cashier, there were a couple people already there, but, like I said, I wasn’t in too much of a hurry, so I went to the line with an actual Kroger employee. I remember that the man in front of me bought cigarettes, cat food, and a newspaper – I’m a nosy person you see. I was surprised that he started talking about a book he’s reading to the woman at the register. “It’s a work of science fiction – it will probably take me six weeks to read it – you have to have a physics back ground to understand it – I have to sit and think awhile after I’ve only read five pages. And could you also give me change for a ten – two fives please,” the man said. She handed him the two fives, and he explained: “I’m taking my mother to get her hair done and if I only have a $10 bill she’ll want to tip the stylist the whole $10.” “It looks like you got a hair but too,” the woman at the register said. “You look nice.” “Not too nice though,” he replied. “I lost another tooth so I’m scared to smile because when I do I look like I’m from Appalachia.” That was a mean thing to say about people from Appalachia, I thought, but I didn’t say anything. I just kept eavesdropping. “I’m getting a new tooth though,” he said. The woman at the register looked pleased. “Come in here smiling once you do,” the woman said. He covered his mouth, “I’m smiling now, but don’t look – you may hear the theme song from deliverance.” Then he left. The cashier looked to me. “I love seeing that man. He makes me smile every time I see him,” the woman at the register said. Profit drives stores to have those self-checkout lanes – and we like them too, not just because they’re convenient but because if they save a little money the stores will save us a little money. But there are things more important. Self-checkout lines don’t get jokes. They can’t smile. You can’t touch them. They can’t hold your hand as they pray. They have no fingers to wipe away tears and no arms to hold you up when everything is falling apart. If God were for you, like some far-off bell that you only ever heard tolling the hour, then know that Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, God with us, is God’s love in flesh and blood that we can touch and see. But not only that – God in Jesus Christ is also the God who can touch and see us. But this truth demands something of me and you. So, this Jerry Black, who I mentioned before. The Music Director who visited my father in the hospital. He died last week. His funeral was last Friday. Choir members from all the churches he served were invited to come and sing, and several members of our choir were there with them. His wife Charlize called and asked me to preach. I had to think about that. Life gets busy. But then I called and told her I would, for how could I not show up in person to honor the man who showed up in person for my father? And who would I be, who would I really represent, if in claiming to serve the God incarnate in flesh and blood who came down to earth to be with you and me, if I was too busy to show up myself? For the Lord didn’t just say it. He did not render those words of the Prophet Isaiah empty: “That I will give people in exchange for your life.” No! He did it. He gave his own life, his own flesh and blood for you and me. So how could we not show up in flesh and blood for each other? Amen.

Following a Star

Scripture Lessons: Isaiah 60: 1-6 and Matthew 2: 1-12 Sermon Title: Following A Star Preached on January 6, 2019 Today is January 6th, and in some ways, it feels to me like Christmas is a distant memory. We mostly put Christmas away a little more than a week ago. I feel like I heard somewhere that it’s bad luck if you don’t have all your Christmas decorations put away by January 1st, which pushes us to get it done. But I hope that’s not true, because while we did take down our tree and put most of our special Christmas things back in the attic to stay until we take them out again next year, there’s probably two or three things that are resisting our efforts. I wonder if it’s that way with you. You think it’s all up in the attic, but then you go to unload the dryer and there are all your Christmas napkins. Or you vacuum the carpet in the living room and come across a lost ornament. Bad smell emanates from the garage. “So that’s where I put the turkey to defrost.” I know that at our house there’s at least one Christmas ornament that refused to be put away. It’s the star that I hung way up in the tree in front of our house. Friday before last, on December 28th, I managed to get all our other Christmas lights down, but I couldn’t get that star out of the tree, so I decided I’d just keep it up there through Epiphany. Maybe that’s just an excuse, but I’m glad about it today. I’m glad it’s still up there, because really, on this Epiphany Sunday, we acknowledge that Christmas is just getting started. Even though the seasonal aisle at Kroger has completely changed its contents, Christmas is just getting started. You can tell that’s the case, because as we read in our Second Scripture Lesson, only just now are some of the most important guest arriving. Now who are these people showing up late for Christmas? Well, tradition tells us that their names are Balthasar of Arabia, Melchior of Persia, and Gaspar of India, but that’s not in the Bible. Somebody just made that up. In fact, the wise men are never even numbered in the Scripture Lesson that we just read from the Gospel of Matthew, only their gifts are. For that First Christmas, many years ago in Bethlehem, wise men sought out the baby Jesus and brought him gold, frankincense, and myrrh. These were strange and valuable gifts, fit for a king. Bible Scholars of the 21st Century debate about the meaning behind the gifts, where these wise men came from, how many of them there were, and, whether or not they were all even men, which I wonder about as well, considering how they stopped in Jerusalem to ask for directions. Our Gospel lesson reads: “In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” Now that they stopped and asked for directions is interesting enough, but what’s more is that Scripture tells us, “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened.” Isn’t that an interesting reaction? Why would King Herod be frightened? Well, to understand this king’s reaction it’s important to remember that the spirit of Christmas inspires most of us to give. Christmas so often brings out our very best. You can see it in the small and large acts of kindness, the general sense of goodwill that pervades each day of December, but there are still, in our world today, those who resist it all. In the Christmas movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” there’s George Baily on the one hand, but Mr. Potter on the other. And just as George Baily is always giving, always enabling others to do more and have more, Mr. Potter is always holding close what he has with one hand while reaching for what he doesn’t have with the other. That miserly old man. The only thing colder than the winter weather in that small town of Bedford Falls is the state of Mr. Potter’s heart. It must have been the same with King Herod. King Herod – who hears that there is a child born king of the Jews and immediately thinks to himself, “But I’m king of the Jews! Who does this Christ child think he is?” When he hears the news that the wise men bring, unlike them he doesn’t think about giving presents or showing kindness, for he only ever thinks about what he stands to lose. Isn’t that a pitiful way to be? But because that’s King Herod, what happens next is tragic. King Herod asks about the place of this child’s birth, then “killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men.” So threatened was he by the savior’s birth, knowing that it would require that he step back from power, Herod massacres the infants of Bethlehem. That’s nearly the opposite of what the wise men did. It’s good to think of them as kings as the hymn “We Three Kings” does, because some kings will hold on to power until it’s pried out of their cold dead hands, but these kings show us another way. Unlike Herod, they let go of what is precious, offering it at the feet of the Christ child in his meager manger. That kind of generosity, that kind of letting go, is what Christmas ought to inspire in us. That’s the appropriate response to what God has done, for at Christmas we remember how the God of creation gives us the greatest of all gifts, His Son Jesus Christ. Such a gift inspires most of us to give – to give of what we have – to give of ourselves – that’s the Christmas Spirit, but too many have packed up that Christmas Spirit into their attics allowing self-interest to define their behavior. Two options then. Two ways for us to be. The wise give, the Herods hord. The wise are filled with joy, the Herods are filled with fear. The wise encounter the Christ child and go home by another road – the Herods stay on the same road that they’re on and massacre anyone who’d get in their way. In this season of New Year’s Resolutions, what will we do. Who will we be? Will we live as though Christmas is just beginning, that there are still gifts that we might generously give, or will we put away our decorations and get back to life as normal, forgetting that his birth has changed everything. I heard a poem from Howard Thurman. Dr. Thurman is kind of the great theological mind of the Civil Rights Movement, and he wrote this poem about the days after Christmas: When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and princes are home, When the shepherds are back with their flock, The work of Christmas begins: To find the lost. To heal the broken. To feed the hungry. To release the prisoner. To rebuild the nations. To bring peace among people. To make music in the heart. Imagine that – if Christmas were not put away but was only beginning. If there was no rush to find the Christ child so that power might be maintained by those who have it already, but there was only a rush to find him that his birth might be celebrated, and lives might be changed for the better. If the Mr. Potter’s of the world gave up on hording and saw that the only way for them to have what the George Bailys of the world have is to let go and be made new. If Christmas were not put away, but if it were lived. If we all made the same pledge that Ebenezer Scrooge made at the end of A Christmas Carol: “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year!” So, having seen him, will you give up the road that you’ve been walking down to take another road? Will you follow where he leads, though going where he leads means going someplace new? Will you rest in the security of his powerful love, and receive the gift of peace that the true Messiah can provide? Let us live each day as Christmas, always following His star. Amen.