Waiting

If I could use only one word to describe the first two days of my recent trip to the Holy Land, that word would be "waiting." I waited with anticipation for the evening when my flight would leave for Israel. I waited at the airport to check in, to go through security, and to board my flight. I waited in my seat more than 10 hours as the Boeing 777 crossed the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea en route to Tel Aviv over-night. And because of a 7-hour time difference between Israel and my home, my over-night flight actually arrived in the early evening - meaning that I would have to wait over-night again (this time in a hotel) before I could visit any of the sites on our itinerary. 

The first stop on our Holy Land tour was the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem - the traditional site of Jesus' birth. Our tour guide warned us that we would have to wait in line for a long time to see the spot where Jesus was born, even though we were one of the first groups to arrive at the Church that morning. The reason for this wait? Each of the three religious communities which shares responsibility for the site (the Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Armenian Churches) had its own allotted time for daily worship there before the Grotto of the Nativity would be opened to the public. So we waited some more. 

Pilgrims Wait to Enter the Grotto of the Nativity     

I wasn't very patient as I waited for the Grotto to be opened, and neither were many of the tourists around me. Two tour guides even got into a heated argument about which group should enter the Grotto first. It would have served us well to have read an Advent sermon my father wrote about waiting. He said, "Waiting is so very foreign to us today. We live in the fast lane. We want things to happen instantly. The idea of delayed gratification of our needs or desires is just not acceptable to us. We live in a world of fast food and condensed books. People go to a counselor with deep-seated problems of long-standing and want a quick solution with one session and a few pills.

By buying into this modern trend we do ourselves a disservice, because waiting is an important and potentially positive part of life. Precious insights, vital discoveries, and new resources of strength can come from the proper kind of waiting. We live by 'clock time.' The years are divided into months, the months into days, the days into minutes. But if we want to get in step with God we must realize that God is not bound by the clock or the calendar. Waiting helps us get synchronized with God. Waiting put us on God's time. God acts in the fullness of time, at the right time. Quiet but active waiting puts us in touch with what God is doing and when God is doing it.

Many years before the birth of Jesus, the Old Testament prophets wrote about waiting for a deliverer who would be like a light for a darkened world. The people to whom the prophets spoke were weary with impatience. They wanted the Messiah now. They wanted God to be on their clock. Hundreds of years went by, and all God said was, 'Wait.' So anxious were they for the Messiah that the masses tried to crown John the Baptist as Messiah when he arrived on the scene. Again, God's message was 'wait.'

In our impatience to solve our own problems or gratify our own desires, we too try to confer messiahship on persons or institutions or philosophies that ultimately turn out to be false messiahs. We can't wait for God's salvation, and so we look to the President of the United States to solve our problems, or to government in general, or to material gain, or to the latest self-improvement fad.

For centuries, the People of God waited for deliverance, chasing here or there after false messiahs, 'but when the fullness of time had come, God sent his son, born of a woman ...'  Advent is a time to remind ourselves that God is in charge, and he knows what he's doing. In order to be so reminded, we must wait for God to act and for God to call us to action. 

Our tendency at this time of the year is to rush too quickly to the manger. Just as the world rushes into Christmas shortly after Halloween, so we follow suit. Not many of us like the slow Advent hymns; let's start right in with festive Christmas carols! And yet the wisdom of the ages tells us to wait. Don't pull out all the stops just yet. But why? What's the value in waiting? The prophet Isaiah counsels us that there is great wisdom in waiting for the Lord. When we wait on the Lord, we act not in the frail efforts of our own strength, but in the mighty power of the Lord's strength. When we wait on the Lord, we receive not the imperfect results of our own hands, but the good and perfect result of God's hand.

Don't rush to the manger too quickly this season. Wait. Stop, look, and listen to the people and events around you. Where is Christ speaking to you? Pray and read the Bible in the quietness of his presence. What is he saying to you? Don't rush to the manger. There are precious experiences along the way that should be savored, experiences through which God can prepare us to meet the Christ."

After waiting so long to enter the Grotto of the Nativity, I was rushed to (and past) the spot where Jesus was said to have been born, pausing just long enough to have my picture taken there. I didn't encounter Jesus at that hectic spot. I met him in the days that followed in the faces and voices of fellow travelers who came to the Holy Land to meet him just as I had.   

From: "Waiting"

Scripture: Isaiah 40:1-11, 28-31   

Preached at Paoli U.M. Church

Thanksgiving for the Future

On my flight to Israel a couple weeks ago, I thought of the many "must see" places I would be visiting in the Holy Land -- Bethlehem, where Jesus was born; the Western Wall, a place steeped in prayer; Gethsemane, where Jesus prayed before his arrest. But a surprising thing happened as I toured the holy sites of Israel and the West Bank: I felt moved the most by "lesser" places that I visited without much anticipation. One of them was the Church of the Multiplication in Tabgha.

The Church of the Multiplication was built in 1982, which isn't noteworthy in a land where you can gaze upon the excavation of a 10,000 year-old section of Jericho's city wall. What is noteworthy, though, is the location where the Church of the Multiplication is built. The Church sits over a place near the Sea of Galilee where Jesus is said to have performed the miracle of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. In the Church's austere sanctuary, beneath the altar, a rock protrudes through the mosaic floor, marked only by the flame of a single, small candle. There, Jesus, faced with a hungry crowd of more than 5,000 people, took five loaves of bread and two fish, gave thanks to God for them, broke the bread, and had his disciples distribute the food to the people -- who miraculously ate their fill, with twelve baskets full of bread and fish left over. You can read Mark's account of this miracle here.

Altar of the Church of the Multiplication 

As I stood before the altar and looked at that stone, I experienced what I can only describe as an overwhelming sense of God's provision. I've long acknowledged that God has greatly blessed me and my family, but in that moment, I was swept up by a wave of awe and gratitude that carried me far beyond my narrow, self-focused interests. In the spot were Jesus fed a hungry multitude, I felt acutely aware that it's God's very nature and deep desire to provide for all of God's beloved children. And it's not enough for God that we don't starve. God prepares a lavish meal of loving kindness for us all that more than satisfies; God serves a meal so big that baskets full of leftovers remain. That's God's nature. That's how much God loves and cares for us. In Tabgha, I experienced a moment of clarity about who God is that I hope to never forget.

When I returned home from Israel, I flipped through the dozen or so sermons that my father preached around the holiday of Thanksgiving, and I found one he wrote in 1967 about the Feeding of the Five Thousand. Setting the scene for the miracle, Dad wrote, "The situation seems hopeless. A crowd of 5,000 people. What will they eat, miles away from the nearest market? 'What can we do?' the disciples ask Jesus. The conversation that follows between Jesus and his disciples underlines the helplessness of the disciples. But at the same time one gets the feeling of serenity, for through it all Jesus never panics; he has complete control and mastery over the situation. How desperately we want someone like that in the midst of our panic today -- someone to insure the future for us, someone who is in control."

Look at what Jesus did! "Five loaves and two fish -- just five loaves of bread and two fish. With the smallest of resources he provided a veritable banquet for more than 5,000 people. Folks who know much more about the scriptures than either you or I point out the very great significance of this banquet. Both the Old and New Testaments are full of references to a great banquet, a great heavenly banquet which all will enjoy when the end of the age comes and the Messiah is exalted to his position as Lord of all creation. ... Over and over again, the symbol of a meal or banquet is used to show that in the end it is God who triumphs. God is victorious, and the time will inevitably come when God will be able to celebrate God's victory at a joyous table of fellowship with God's faithful children.

And that too is the meaning of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. With this miraculous banquet, Jesus is giving a preview or a prophecy, if you like, of that great final banquet that is to come. The meaning here is that no matter how hopeless and dim the present situation (5 loaves and 2 fish), there is still reason to give thanks. For God can take the most hopeless set of circumstances, a famine, and turn it into a veritable feast. And this banquet for a mere 5,000 is nothing compared to the great truth to which it points -- namely, that God is in charge of the course of history. Although disaster and hardship may threaten, in the end God will triumph, and God's kingdom will come as we have so often prayed for it: 'Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done.' That is, the time will come, figuratively speaking, when we all will come from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, and sit at the table with the Lord in the kingdom of God.

You see, this is the meaning of Christian thanksgiving. ... We not only look backwards and praise God for all of God's kindness in the past. We also dare to turn around and face the future and thank God for that too. In a time when many may despair about the future and others may clamor feverishly for plans and human solutions to our many problems, the Christian hope comes like a refreshing breeze. Of course, things may get worse. But the Christian can meet those prospects serene and unshaken, knowing that the Risen Christ already has overcome the powers of sin and death and in the end will reign. When? How? We do not know the answers to such questions. But if God be God, then God's kingdom will come. Of that we may be sure."

I used to have a wonderful neighbor named Hester, who lived well into her 90's. Dorry and I were young parents when we lived next door to Hester, and she loved visiting with our kids. Whenever we spoke with Hester about our hopes and fears for our children, she always had the same comforting response. She would say, "There's no need to worry about what the future holds when you know who holds the future." As I sit down with family for our Thanksgiving dinner, I will be thanking God not only for God's past provision, but also for the future -- for I know who holds it for us all.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

From: "A Christian Thanksgiving"
Scripture: Mark 6:31-44
Preached Nov. 19, 1967
Adams Shore Community Church, Quincy, Mass. 

Unlikely Heroes

In April of this year, my wife Dorry and I spent a wonderful vacation in the cities of Houston and Galveston, Texas. Now, a little over four months later, places we enjoyed strolling are deluged with the floodwaters of Hurricane Harvey. It seems that the Gulf Coast of Texas is in need of some heroes. 

Flag of Texas over Galveston Bay

Another place which Dorry and I once visited on a vacation -- Charlottesville, Virginia -- also has been in the news lately. We all know what happened. White supremacists and Neo-Nazis from across the country rallied in Charlottesville to protest the removal of a statue of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, others came to protest them, and violence followed that peaked with a white supremacist from Ohio ramming his car into a crowd of peaceful demonstrators. Nineteen people were injured, and a young woman died. The hate-fueled leaders of the deadly rally have vowed to return to Charlottville. It seems that Charlottesville too could use some heroes.

Whether it's the storm surge of a hurricane or the surging hatred of white nationalism, one has to wonder how strongly we, as a nation, will rally to tackle these challenges. My father once observed, "The fabric of our society is growing weaker because we have lost faith in the power of the ordinary individual to make a difference. We need to recapture the spirit of men and women of the past who believed in themselves and believed that they had something worthwhile to sacrifice for the good of their fellow-man. These people were not great charismatic leaders who stood head and shoulders above everyone else, but common folks, like you and me, who clung to the belief that one person can make an impact and, more than that, has an obligation to do so. They were unlikely heroes.

On December 1, 1955, a black seamstress named Rosa Parks was on her way home from work. She was tired and her feet hurt as she climbed onto a bus in then-segregated Montgomery, Alabama. At the next stop a white man came onto the bus. Following the common practice of the day, the bus driver told Rosa Parks that she would have to stand so that the driver could enlarge the white seating area for this white businessman to sit down. Rosa Parks later said that all she knew was that she was tired and she had had enough. She said 'No' and refused to move, never guessing that God had a preacher named Martin Luther King, Jr. around the corner at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church and that her simple act of conscience would spark a major reform in the social fabric of the United States. Rosa Parks was an unlikely hero.

Strange as it may seem, God's first choice of a method for working in the world is through common, ordinary, earthy people like Rosa Parks, or you, or me. God gives us gifts of goodness, grace, mercy and peace. As we receive these gifts and use them, we discover that our consciences become captive to the word of God, and we find ourselves doing what we must do to live with our consciences. Every act -- especially in the kind of world we live in -- becomes a heroic act, whether large or small. Through people like this, the kingdoms of this earth actually have a fighting chance to become the Kingdom of God.

Perhaps this is what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the common, ordinary people of Corinth who responded to the gospel and said, 'Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth.' 1 Corinthians 1:26 (NIV). In other words, the Christians in Corinth were mostly a motley crew, just like that motley crew of tax collectors, fishermen and day laborers whom Jesus called to be his first disciples. But Paul said, 'God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things -- and the things that are not -- to nullify the things that are.' 1 Cor. 1:28. So God chose what the world looks down upon and despises and thinks is nothing in order to destroy what the world thinks is important. Paul later wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians that '[w]e have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.' 2 Cor. 4:7.

We can't explain God's ways. Sometimes they make absolutely no sense to us. Sometimes God appears to be highly mistaken in the way he operates. But the evidence is that God chooses what the world considers to be weakness to shame the strong; that God chooses what the world thinks of as nonsense to shame what the world thinks is wise. God chooses simple, seemingly insignificant men and women whose consciences have become captive to God's word, and God uses them to do God's marvelous work in the world.

But -- and this is the key to the mystery -- they are able to become unlikely heroes because those whom God calls, God also equips and empowers. The important thing is not what one man or one woman can do. The important thing is what God can do through all men and women who choose to be available; who allow their lives, their minds, their consciences to be shaped by the spirit of Jesus Christ; who are willing to live out that life right where they are planted. You yourself can be an unlikely hero. All you must do is be willing to pray, 'Thy will be done in me.'"  

If you would like to be a hero to the victims of Hurricane Harvey, I recommend that you donate to the incredibly effective relief efforts of UMCOR - the United Methodist Committee on Relief. One hundred percent of your donation goes to hurricane relief because the United Methodist Church picks up this agency's administrative expenses. You can donate here.

And if the events of Charlottesville have moved you to learn more about what you can do to combat racism, you will want to check out the resources gathered for the United Methodist Church's "Embrace Love" campaign.  You can find those resources here.      

Lord, may your will be done ... in me. Amen.

From: "Unlikely Heroes"
Scripture: 1 Samuel 16:1-13; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

The Perfect Wedding

I went to a wedding today. The happy, young couple found each other as students at Grove City College - the same school where I met and fell in love with my wife, Dorry more than 30 years ago. Dorry officiated today's service, and from my vantage point, it went off without a hitch (except, of course, that the bride and groom got hitched). It all looked so effortless. But I know better. Months of thought, planning and attention to detail came into focus in that service. Nothing was left to chance. 

And while today's wedding service and reception were wrapped up in half a day, I read in one of my dad's sermons that a wedding in Jesus' time was a much longer and more elaborate affair than your typical modern-day version:

"In ancient Palestine, a wedding was quite the occasion. It usually lasted for more than a day. The ceremony itself took place late in the evening, after a feast. Then the couple was led through the village streets by the light of torches and with a canopy over their heads. There was no honeymoon. The couple stayed at home, and for a week they held an open house. They wore crowns and bridal robes. They were treated like a king and queen, and for this week their word was law. In a culture, where life was a constant matter of survival, this week of celebration was a welcome relief."

"There was a wedding in Cana of Galilee. Jesus' mother was there, and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the celebration. When the wine ran out, Jesus' mother said to him, 'They don't have any wine.'" John 2:1-2 (CEB)

"For a Jewish feast, wine was essential. 'Without wine', said the rabbis, 'there is no joy.' To have the wine run out like this before the guests had gone was a horrible violation of the sacred duty of hospitality. It was a humiliation for the bride and bridegroom and the whole family. It was the sort of situation that our worst nightmares are made of. Little wonder then, that Mary came to Jesus frantic over this wine situation. ...

Here was a microcosm of  what the human struggle is all about. Here were good people trying to push and pound and mold a small, stubborn segment of time into exactly the form they wanted. Was this too much to ask of life? And now, despite their best efforts, it was all falling apart before their very eyes. They had run out of wine.  

Life is very much like the perfect wedding. Everything is set from the flowers to the tuxedos. But rare is the wedding where something doesn't happen to set us on edge. The flower girl goes on a sit-down strike; the bride is 20 minutes late; the minister calls the groom by the wrong name. In a wedding, these things often can be laughed at later. But in real life, the snafus are sometimes tragic, and irreparable harm can be done. A spouse is unfaithful; children refuse to fulfill the dreams we had for them; and then the terrible specter of illness or accident raises its ugly head.  This life is not fair, not even for good and prudent people. As soon as we understand this and let go of the illusion that we can plan and execute the perfect life, we will be ready to hear the Good News ... "   

"Nearby were six stone water jars used for the Jewish cleansing ritual, each able to hold about twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, 'Fill the jars with water,' and they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, 'Now draw some from them and take it to the headwaiter,' and they did. The headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine. ... The headwaiter called the groom and said, 'Everyone serves the good wine first. They bring out the second-rate wine only when the guests are drinking freely. You kept the good wine until now.' This was the first miraculous sign that Jesus did in Cana of Galilee." -John 2:6-11 (CEB)

"The Good News -- the wine that used to be water -- is that in spite of our brokenness and imperfection, in spite of our sins and failures, in spite of our struggles and humiliations, we are loved. We are loved for who we are, not for what we have accomplished. We are loved, accepted and forgiven. In this love there is a security that the worst tragedy in life cannot touch. In this love there is a promise that one day all the troubles that afflict us now, all the tragedies that now seem so invincible, will evaporate and be as nothing in the light of God's eternal presence. Jesus came to turn our water into wine.  He came to give us a home, both here and hereafter. What God creates is better than what anyone can manufacture. The moment we realize this is the moment of our own personal miracle, the moment of our salvation, the moment of freedom at last, the moment of true joy.

And so that day in Cana, the wedding went on, and those who were responsible for planning it relaxed and enjoyed themselves for the first time all week. They danced, and sang, and ate, and drank, and quietly noted that what made the perfect wedding was not all their planning, but the fact that Jesus was there."

From: "The Perfect Wedding"

Scripture: John 2:1-12

Preached at Paoli United Methodist Church 

Will-Power or Higher Power?

Well, we've reached the beginning of another New Year. Have you made your resolution for 2017? I haven't. In fact, I've kind of given up on the concept of New Year's resolutions. I can't tell you how many times I've started off a brand new year with good intentions of keeping a resolution, only to see that promise wither in the cold of January, February and March.

Perhaps this year, I should be considering a New Year's covenant instead of a New Year's resolution. Here's how my father once explained the difference:

"At this time of year perhaps more than any other our minds turn to promises. As we begin a new year there is a certain psychology built into us that gives us a sense of beginning anew. It's a time when we review our life and see what changes should be affected, what new promises should be made, what old promises renewed. In short, this is the time for a New Year's resolution.

But it always seems to me that there is a certain sadness and human tragedy about the New Year and its resolutions. Many resolutions are made about trivial things, and larger ones often are made tongue-in-cheek, for we know full well that they will not be kept. This is a season for human promises made by human beings, and experience has taught us that human-level promises are very fragile, and vulnerable to many threats, and usually end up broken - if not in fact then at least in spirit. By and large, we find it far easier to make promises than to keep them. 

Fortunately, we worship the One who keeps promises. It is only God who never waivers and keeps his Word. It is only from God that we can receive the will to keep our own promises. The word for 'promise' most often used in the Bible is 'covenant.' Simply stated, the idea of covenant is 'I will be your God, if you will be my people.' It is a reciprocal kind of relationship that God offers us. In spite of the fact that we are often useless and spoiled, God in his infinite grace loves us and wants to give us a whole life. It can be ours if we fulfill our part and respond to God in faith and love. 

Entering into a living, vital covenant relationship with God is in no way like making a New Year's resolution or any other human promise. Such human commitments are like a bankrupt debtor promising to pay all his creditors in full. The sooner we ditch our seeming self-sufficiency the better. A covenant relationship with God is not made by telling God what you will do for him. It is, in utter humility and helplessness, opening yourself up to God and letting him come into your life and make you his man, his woman. 

To follow Christ I am not to say, 'Lord, now I'm going to straighten myself out and be your kind of man; I will follow you anywhere.' No, that's not what I say at all. I say something like this: 'Lord, I've blown it. Right now it seems like I can't do anything right. I've messed up my life and my world. If you can still love me, Lord, if you still want me, I'll cast myself on your mercy.'

And, you know, the most amazing thing happens to the person who does that. Because God has promised to love him no matter what, and because he has accepted that promise, a new grace, a new promise-keeping power floods into his life. Now he daily receives from God the strength and love to make commitments to his family and friends and the world and to carry them through. He discovers that some of God's constancy is in his own life and that he is victorious and trustworthy. You see, our promise-keeping power is a part of God's promise-keeping power. 'Apart from him we an do nothing.'

As we begin the New Year, will you join me in renewing your covenant relationship with God? This is a prayer written by John Wesley, the founder of our Methodist tradition, to be used at the New Year. It is one of the most powerful prayers ever written. An honest praying of this prayer will open your life to a real renovation and renewal by God Almighty ..."

The Wesley Covenant Prayer

"I am no longer my own but thine. Put me to what thou wilt. Rank me with whom thou wilt. Put me to doing. Put me to suffering. Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee, exalted for thee or brought low for thee. Let me be full. Let me be empty. Let me have all things. Let me have nothing. I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal. And now O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, thou art mine and I am thine. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, let it be ratified in heaven. Amen." 

From: "Promises, Promises"

Preached at: Paoli UM Church, Paoli, PA

The Light Still Shines

In the weeks leading up to Christmas this year, there has been a special candle burning in the sanctuary at Newtown United Methodist Church during our Advent worship services. It's the Peace Light. In Bethlehem at the Grotto of the Nativity, the traditional site of the birth of Christ, caretakers keep a flame continuously lit. Every year a boy scout or girl scout from Austria travels to Bethlehem and lights a lamp from the flame. The burning lamp is then flown back to Austria, and its flame is distributed from Vienna to churches across Europe.  

At Christmas in 2001, the Peace Light was flown across the Atlantic Ocean from Vienna to New York City as a sign of hope in the wake of the 9-11 terrorist attacks. For many Christmases since 2001, the Peace Light has come to New York and has spread from there across North America. 

This year, our church was offered the Peace Light by a nearby congregation, and I had the experience of driving a flickering lantern to our church and carrying the Peace Light into the sanctuary. It's a safe bet that I will never carry a burning Olympic Torch into a stadium to light the Olympic Flame, but I did do my small part to complete the Peace Light's incredible journey of nearly 5,800 miles from Bethlehem on the West Bank to Newtown, Pennsylvania -- via Vienna and New York City.

The Peace Light burning in our living room

Instead of having the Peace Light burn unattended in an empty sanctuary between Sunday worship services, Dorry and I have looked after the Peace Light in our home. I never experienced having a candle burning in my home 24/7 before. I've learned that a single candle throws a surprising amount of light in the darkness. When I walk into our living room at night and see the Peace Light burning on the mantle of our fireplace, I'm reminded of the Gospel of John's poetic description of Jesus: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ... The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. ... In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:1, 14, 4-5  (NIV)

My father once observed that "[i]t is always so with light and darkness. No matter how deep and vast the darkness, one tiny light can pierce through it, and the darkness, for all its vastness, is powerless to overcome that light. Darkness is always at the mercy of light."

2016 has been a year in which many of us found ourselves enveloped in darkness from news of terrorism, or war, or mass shootings, or racism, or our hate-filled political rhetoric. These are "dark social and political situations that permeate us from the outside."  At other points in the year, we have been shrouded in "a darkness that comes from within. It is the darkness of hopelessness and despair we feel when we get bogged down in the tragedy and pain and sometimes just plain boredom of everyday life. There is no heavier, seemingly impenetrable darkness than what we feel when life wounds us in one way or another, and we cry out to God, and God doesn't seem to be there. Terrible, terrible things happen in families, in the workplace, in marriages, in the human mind and body. Evil is very much alive in the experience of every one of us, We cannot deny it. Each one of us is to some degree enswathed in the darkness that comes from within."

It was into this darkness -- from without and within -- that Jesus was born. One Christmas Eve, my father asked his congregation, "Can you imagine how cold and dark that stable must have been? That stable is the world. It is no small thing for God to enter that darkness. There are the cries of a young mother in labor, bearing her first child in a strange town far from home. There is the pain of a father's helplessness as he tries to assist at his own child's birth. It is not easy for God to send his Light into our dark world. It costs God much; ultimately, there is a cross." 

This birth -- this arrival of the Light in the midst of darkness -- announces two things we desperately need to hear: "First, God cares. God knows and cares about the darkness that engulfs us. Your personal darkness is unique; it is different than that of every other person in this church. Yet, God knows and cares. This is the first thing we need to hear. Second, God conquers. God's light still shines, and it conquers the darkness. No darkness can stand up to God's light. This is the significance of that little child born to refugee parents on a dark, cold night in a musty stable. What could be a more powerful reminder that God's light still shines than the birth of this beautiful baby in such a dark setting?"

"This child born in a hostile environment among strangers, this child cradled in a cold, dark barn, this child whose birth we celebrate at Christmas, this child tells us precisely -- because of WHO HE IS -- that God's love extends to the most humble person in the most desperate situation. This child is the Light shining in the darkness. This Word can bring joy to the multitudes. This Word can bring joy to you! See this scene of the nativity for what it really means: The Light still shines!" 

Merry Christmas, friends!       

From: "The Light Still Shines"

Scripture: John 1:1-18

A Thanksgiving Fix For A Divided Nation

The pollsters at Gallup released survey results yesterday showing that a record-high 77% of Americans view this nation as divided. More than a third of Americans are dreading Thanksgiving dinner this year because of inevitable conversations, and confrontations, about the recent presidential election. News outlets are reporting that tensions are running so high that folks are uninviting friends and family members to Thanksgiving dinner because of their differing political views. We've never seen anything quite like this before. Or have we? When I dug into Bill's Barrel to read some Thanksgiving sermons, I quickly found one discussing how polarized American society was in 1977. Here's what my father had to say that year on the eve of the Thanksgiving holiday: 

"Our community, and all communities, stand in a desperately divided condition today. We hear so much about polarization in our nation, and most of us who have our eyes and ears open know that it is not just an empty phrase or a gimmick cooked up by the press. It is real. If you circulate at all and talk to people in your community, and if you examine yourself, you cannot help but be terrified at the chasms individuals and groups are dredging out between each other. 

It has really come to the point where we must ask if true community does in fact exist any more. Or are we rather just an aggregate of unrelated people who share nothing with each other and just happen to live in the same geographical area? The barriers between us range from indifference, to quiet prejudice, to outright enmity. People live across the street or across the hall and don't even know each other's names. Symbols, like long or short hair, black or white skin, or different accents become walls that keep us from learning to know, appreciate and help each other. 

But this is not a new problem even if it takes on greater proportions today. If you read the gospels, you get a glimpse of the great distance between peoples in the day and place where Jesus lived. Talk about a polarized community -- that was it! Gentiles versus Jews; Pharisees versus Sadducees; Jews loyal to Rome versus rebellious Jewish zealots; Jews versus Samaritans; clean versus unclean. It's hard to imagine such a small country with so many sub-groups trying desperately to avoid each other and clashing when they couldn't. Sometimes, this was carried to ridiculous extremes. 

Samaria stood in the middle between the Jewish province of Galilee to the North and the Jewish province of Judea to the South. In Jesus's day, any good Jew traveling from Galilee to Judea or from Judea to Galilee would not take the shortest and most sensible route through Samaria, but in order to avoid the Samaritans (who were considered heretics and mixed breeds) would travel clear around Samaria, losing much time and energy. Or take another example: Learned rabbis decreed that when the wind was blowing from behind a leper toward a healthy person, the leper had to stand at least 50 yards away.

These examples sound ridiculous to us because they come from an ancient time. But if we could somehow get outside of our skins and watch some of the things we do, I'm sure our polarizing ways would seem equally ridiculous. A white family goes to the expense and trouble of uprooting themselves and moving if a black family moves in nearby. Property-owning taxpayers vote to keep out apartments, assuming that renters will bring an undesirable element. Students throw rocks and mock the police unmindful of how the very law they flout guarantees their freedom. Middle-class neighbors, comfortable and without much to do on a Saturday afternoon, sit on the patio knocking "lazy" welfare recipients. We have not come much further in building real community than had the many factions in Jesus's day."

So what is the solution for such a Balkanized state of affairs? My dad sought the answer in Thanksgiving: 

"A true community is born when we can say thanks to God. What a unifying revelation it could be if all of us could really apprehend the fact that same God who makes it rain in my suburban middle-class township also makes it rain on the inner city, on the rural farming community and on the affluent neighborhood, on the hard-scrabbled borough and on the quaint college town. Now that sounds simple, I know, but I think there's a point. If all of us, despite our differences, could see by faith that our life comes from a common source in God, if we all could suddenly grasp that our common needs are all served by the same Lord, that our thanksgivings rise to the same Father, then most assuredly, the gaps between us would quickly close.

It is said of animals who are natural enemies that during times of flood they can be found sitting side by side quite peaceably on some high piece of ground. Why? Simply because they have been forced to recognize that this small piece of dry ground is their one and only salvation. How parabolic that is for us! Here we are bickering and feuding, expending valuable energy, sometimes even spilling blood to maintain the differences between us, and so few of us ever stop and look up to get the big picture. So few of us manage to apprehend by faith that when each individual breaths out thanksgiving for life, it all rises to the same God.

A true community also is born when we say thanks to each other. In Jesus's day no two people stood further apart, both figuratively and literally, than a healthy Jew and a leper. When Jesus heals a group of ten lepers, they go on their way, but one suddenly turns and breaks ranks with the rest, runs back and falls at Jesus's feet, giving him thanks. This man, who is not only a leper but a Samaritan, returns to thank a Jew! This is a real breakthrough. The Gospel draws people together into Christian community. 

Christ lends a wholeness to life, not only to individual life but also to shared life between people. Christ brings us together into a relationship of mutual gratitude and appreciation. Somehow Christ gives us the ability to see differences in other people not as barriers, not as something to fear, but rather as blessings. What the other fellow has that I don't have is something he can offer to me for my enrichment, and something for which I should thank him. God very often chooses to bestow his blessings on us through others. This is how God works. How stunted and narrow our lives become when, because of our differences, we cut ourselves off from the good gifts God would give us through others.

This Thanksgiving, it is really up to us to choose what we would make of this event. It could be merely a time to turn inward and thank God for our private prosperity, but I urge you to go beyond that. Our community is as polarized and fragmented as any American community today. It is our job as the Body of Christ in this time and this place to be the reconciling agents in our community. The way to begin this leavening work is to remember that all people, despite their differences, owe thanks to the same God and, because of their differences, owe thanks to each other." 

From: "A Community Gives Thanks"

Preached at: Community Thanksgiving Eve Service,

Easton, Pennsylvania (1977)

Scripture: Luke 17:11-19; John 4:1-14