Tag Archives: Advent

Expect a Miracle

First in an Advent Series, “A Different Kind of Christmas”

I cannot think of a better way to begin Advent than by talking about miracles. The Jews waited centuries for a Messiah. We as followers of Jesus Christ have waited centuries for the Messiah’s return.

During Advent, we remember those waits. And in our waiting, we’ve been expecting not just a miracle, but the ultimate miracle.

It helps to remember the definition of what a miracle is. In an age where many people don’t believe in or expect miracles, our lack of seriousness about such events can cause us to use the word loosely. For example, we may call merely improbable events like a game-ending 60-yard touchdown pass “miraculous.”

True miracles go beyond the improbable, however. They are the result of God intervening directly in the world to change what otherwise would happen. When a miracle happens, the laws of physics or biology seem suspended. The math surrounding the event may not make sense.

During Advent, we often turn to the Old Testament Book of Isaiah. The promise of miracles abounds there, at a time when the divided Jewish people really had little reason to expect God would ever intervene on their behalf.

There is the sign given King Ahaz in Isaiah 7:14, a sign “deep as Sheol” and “high as heaven”: “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”

Later, in Isaiah 9:2-7, we again hear of one to come, a man who will restore justice and righteousness for all time, a savior described as Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

In other words, despite the sin and disobedience in the world, God promised to intervene. The natural result of disobedience to our creator was death; the miraculous result of God’s intervention on our behalf is eternal life.

The core of Christian faith is the belief that Jesus is the Great Intervenor, God coming among us in the flesh. His life on earth was a non-stop miracle lasting more than three decades, and he did not hesitate to claim this for himself.

Early in his ministry, Jesus went to the town where he had grown up, Nazareth, and shocked the people who had known him most of his life by saying he had come to fulfill the prophecies of Isaiah. Specifically, he read the first part of Isaiah 61, which speaks of the Messiah’s focus on the lost, the poor, the people most in need. I find it interesting in Luke 4:18-19 that Jesus stopped short in reading the prophecy, deliberately avoiding “vengeance” language, instead focusing on words of grace and mercy.

He then startled them with a remarkable claim: “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

At first, his audience was pleased—they had heard of his early signs of power, and they most likely were excited that great events were finally going to be associated with their tiny, unimportant village. As Jesus went on, however, they became angry.

Jesus made it clear that he did not expect them to fully recognize the miracle before them, noting “no prophet is acceptable in his hometown.” He then began to hint that the miracle he brought would be even more expansive than the work of the prophet Elijah, who often shared God’s grace with non-Jews. The miracle of Jesus, the miracle of the cross and the resurrection, also would be an event to be shared far beyond the bounds of Judaism and Israel.

Hearing this, the people of Nazareth ran Jesus out of town.

This story points us to the real problem with seeing miracles, with even understanding how to expect them. We have difficulty thinking big the way God thinks big. Jesus was talking to people who had been raised on the idea of a big miracle, a big intervention by God in their history. But the intervention proved to be so big, so unbelievably full of grace, that they could not grasp it, despite centuries of preparation for the moment.

That brings us to what I see as the crux of our 2012 Advent season. As we prepare for Christmas, I want you to ponder a simple question: Are we expecting a miracle? I don’t mean a mere glimpse of God. I mean a really, really big miracle, something that will remind us that God continues to intervene in this world today.

When we consider what we believe Jesus has done, and when we consider Jesus’ love for the least and lost in the world, how we approach Christmas should be very different from the way we’re encouraged by society to mark it.

Society gives us Santa Claus and Black Friday shopping. Christ gives us eternal relief from death and promises this relief is available for all, regardless of who they are, where they are, or how important or unimportant they may be by worldly standards.

In the next few weeks, it is my prayer that our expectations regarding a miracle will actually change how we see Christmas and what we choose to emphasize as we celebrate our Savior’s birth.

Leveling and Straightening

Isaiah 40:1-11

I’ve recently developed a new appreciation for flat, smooth roads.

I bought something called a Trikke, which looks like an oversized kiddie scooter. It’s not for toddlers, however. Instead of a platform, there are two bars running from the front wheel to two back wheels. You stand over the two back wheels and hold on to a handlebar, which controls a long post attached to the front wheel.

The joints are all cambered; to make the Trikke go, you get it rolling by kicking the ground scooter-style and then twist and rock the whole thing to propel the inverted V forward. I got the Trikke for exercise. (I seem lately to be suffering from “fat pastor syndrome.”) Riding this contraption is a lot of fun, but frankly, I’m not yet very good at it.

The Trikke goes great downhill, of course. I can keep it going pretty well on a level, smooth surface, too. As for uphill—well, at least I get a lot of exercise pushing it, looking like Fred Flintstone starting his car as my feet scurry between the v-shaped bars.

Because of my Trikke experience, Isaiah 40:1-11 has taken on a whole new meaning for me. “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God,” we read there. “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low, the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”

Not that the prophet was saying God would arrive in the Holy Land on a Trikke.  It’s just that I’ve developed a new appreciation for smoothing out those physical hills and rough places that also stand as symbols of life’s impediments, its pain and disappointment. (Overweight bicyclists, hikers and runners will probably understand this metaphor, too.)

The people of Judah, one of two kingdoms that had come out of a fractured Israel, certainly would have understood Isaiah’s words on both a literal and metaphorical level. In the 39th chapter, Isaiah had predicted the Babylonian conquest and the taking of God’s “chosen people” into captivity as punishment for their sins. In the 40th chapter, however, Isaiah seems to be addressing people already in captivity, separated from their homeland by a rugged stretch of desert.

While comprehensible, Isaiah’s words also must have sounded very strange. No hope seemed in sight for a captive people far from home. The idea of the God who had condemned them leading them home along an easily traversed highway must have seemed improbable, even on a metaphorical level.

Perhaps that explains verses 6 through 8, with their withered grass and faded flowers standing as Lamentations-like complaints about the temporary nature of life. When God seems far away and you see nothing but life’s pain, cynicism creeps in. Isaiah tries to reflect the mood of the times he lived in, as well as difficult times to come.

He also notes, however, that the word of our God will stand forever. It is a nugget of hope, both for the Jews trapped in bondage and for us today.

During this Advent season—this time of year when we re-experience the Jewish longing for a messiah, and our own longing for Jesus Christ’s return—we remember this passage from Isaiah for the encouragement it ultimately brings. God does come.

“See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him,” Isaiah says. “He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”

Eight centuries later, another prophet, John the Baptist, would evoke Isaiah’s words in proclaiming Jesus as the promised Savior. And it was God himself, we discovered, who would level and straighten the path through our rugged, sin-pocked deserts so we could return to a relationship with our creator.

God triumphs! He triumphs through Christ’s suffering and death on the cross, with Jesus’ resurrection providing proof that sin and death are defeated.

Following God’s straight, smooth path requires only that we believe—no theological twisting and contorting, no pushing our way over the hills. Simple belief.

Immanuel

The following is not actually from one of my sermons. I wrote it for a newsletter, but as it is seasonal, I thought I would share it here, too.

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It is the time of year when at least one preacher can get, well, a little preachy. To prove this, all I have to do is look at some of my past December newsletter articles written for other churches.

I have to say, however, that what has bothered me in the past during December still bothers me now. It is the loud, secular “spend spend” message that can overwhelm the subtle, sacred message of Advent, a time when we should be anticipating Christ’s full and complete return. To the marketers, Christmas cannot come early enough.

By the time we get around to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day celebrations of Christ’s birth, many people have missed the purpose of Advent entirely and are too exhausted to experience fully the miracle of the incarnation. The actual Christmas season, which runs until Jan. 6, becomes an annoying afterthought, a house guest who has lingered too long.

(See, I told you I can get a little preachy this time of year.)

I have no earth-shaking, revolutionary solutions. I suspect the power of secular, commercial media will remain until Christ returns. I can offer only a simple strategy that might help us keep our minds focused and refreshed as we move toward Christmas.

At the beginning of the Gospel of Matthew, we hear the genealogy of Jesus and are reminded of our savior’s miraculous birth. “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord has spoken by the prophet: ‘Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel,’ which means, God with us.” (Matthew 1:22-23.)

Immanuel: God with us. Yes, they named him Jesus, but Jesus was and is God with us.

During the blitz of commercials, mute the television’s sound and say out loud, “Immanuel.”

In the frantic shopping, remember to whisper now and then, “Immanuel.”

In the lonely moments you may feel, call out, “Immanuel.”

And certainly, make time to worship, crying out, “Immanuel.”

God is with us, and God will make his presence fully known and undeniable one day. And on that day, even the marketers will rejoice.

By Whose Hand?

Deuteronomy 8:7-18

The turkey has been eaten, and if you’re lucky, there still are a few leftovers remaining in the fridge. In this season of Thanksgiving, this long weekend of looking around and then looking upward, we find ourselves in a good land.

Some would call such an assertion debatable, citing the recession, high unemployment, rising prices for essentials like food and fuel, and political gridlock as their evidence. And these problems do exist, causing suffering.

We still live in a good land, however. If for no other reason, it is good because it remains a place where we can freely remember and worship God. (I also think there are many other reasons it remains a good land. Despite the current gloom and doom, I’m an optimist, and I’m mindful that we’ve faced much worse as a nation.)

To me, the parallels between our situation and the situation the Israelites were in as they prepared to enter the Promised Land are striking. The book of Deuteronomy largely is Moses reminding the people of their history and their relationship with God, preparing them for Moses’ imminent death and their first steps into a long-anticipated future.

“For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land, a land with flowing streams, with springs and underground waters welling up in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley, of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land where you may eat bread without scarcity, where you will lack nothing, a land whose stones are iron and from whose hills you may mine copper,” Moses told them, his words recorded in the eighth chapter. “You shall eat your fill and bless the Lord your God for the good land that he has given you.”

With a few modifications to the types of crops and some additions to the minerals, this could suffice as a description of North America.

There also is a warning: “Take care that you do not forget the Lord your God,” Moses said. After reminding them once again of all the perils God had brought them through, Moses added, “Do not say to yourself, ‘My power and the might of my own hand have gotten me this wealth.’ “

I would not go so far as to describe the United States as some kind of new Promised Land. Our nation was not designed to relate to God through a direct covenant. It is, however, structured so that individuals can enter into any kind of covenant with God, assembling with those of like mind without fear of persecution. That freedom has allowed Christianity in all its variations to thrive here.

Yes, the stock market gyrates; yes, gas is well over $3 a gallon. But even if the market crashes and gas is rationed, this land remains a great blessing to its inhabitants and the world as long as our principles of freedom remain. Less stuff does not diminish our connection to God.

The lesson from today’s text is simple, and as relevant to us as it was to those desert people longing for a little variety in their diets and a constant water supply. Remember God—remember the one you follow, the one you have declared to be above all creation. Worshiping God in good times and bad is our primary task.

These words in Deuteronomy also are words of hope, something we celebrate on this first Sunday of Advent. God had begun a relationship that ultimately led the people to look for a messiah, one who would make that relationship with God full and complete. Christians gather to worship because we call Jesus the Christ, another word for messiah. He died on the cross to make that full relationship possible. He first experienced the resurrection, giving us a sign of what is to come.

Many of you find yourselves enormously blessed, with plenty of food, good shelter, and lots of love in your lives. Take care that in your comfort, you do not forget the Lord your God.

Some of you find yourselves struggling, perhaps concerned about your next paycheck or feeling isolated. Take care that in your worries, you do not forget the Lord your God.

Wherever we are in our lives now, we worship a God who has done great things for us and is moving us toward something greater. All God asks is that we love him back, and in the process learn to love each other better.