The Light is Shining

Matthew 4:12-23

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.

These words echo back and forth between our readings this morning.

The people who walked in darkness—the people who sat in darkness—the darkness….

What do we identify as darkness today?

Right now, our daylight hours are still a bit on the short side. Literal darkness comes early to our days. Dawn creeps in late each morning. So, there is the physical aspect of darkness.

Then, there is the mental or emotional aspect of darkness with which many of us are all too familiar. Depression, for instance, affects at least 1 in 10 Americans, and the rate of people diagnosed with depression is steadily growing. Yet it is estimated that 80% of those suffering with depression do not seek treatment. The mental and emotional aspect of darkness can be particularly crippling.

Finally, there is the spiritual darkness that seems so pervasive in our world. Spiritual darkness may come from never having had the opportunity to know Jesus, or it may come from the isolation of living on the margins, or from the deep pain of disillusion, rejection, or victimization.

Spiritual darkness may result from the distraction of the many voices which arise out of the various parts of our lives, each attempting to drown out the other, working together to draw us away from the light.

This distraction increases as allegiance to our idols overshadows our allegiance to God.  

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.

The darkness that weighs us down includes:

worry for our future;

• Perhaps our job is in jeopardy, is unfulfilling, or is the source of great conflict; o
• The disease we are fighting or test results we are waiting to come in;
• Our child or our parent may be struggling with demons that threaten relationships, health and well-being; or,
•  our financial security is threatened by causes outside our control. Perhaps our darkness comes from the unraveling of relationships.
• There are people who are just one catastrophic loss or illness away from losing their home; others worry, will we lose our medical insurance, Medicare or Social Security? Are our pensions safe?
• And of course, the chaos and deep divisions in our world fills many with fear and the darkness of despair leaving us afraid to do the things that once brought us joy.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.

      Our gospel text today reminds us that into our darkness, God brings life-saving light. Repent, Jesus says, for the kingdom of heaven has come near. Jesus doesn’t tell us to repent so that that kingdom can come, but tells us instead that the kingdom is here – therefore, repent, so that you might follow the light of its coming.

Jesus is the light of God that has ushered in God’s kingdom and shines into every dark corner and crevice our lives. Jesus is the light that transforms our world.

God’s light will prevail against every darkness. And God’s light is to be light for all people. Jesus is that light.

Jesus, the light of salvation, goes to Capernaum after he hears that Herod has arrested John. The stage is set: God will not let any earthly leader silence the good news of God’s love and mercy. God will continue to provide hope through God’s authority, as God acts through Christ to bring light and salvation to everyone.

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them a light has shined.

       The thing is that long ago, in the region where Galilee now lies, the people of Zebulun and Naphtali had once experienced great defeat. Isaiah brought God’s people the good news of light to be delivered into their darkness by God’s own hand. In today’s gospel, Matthew quotes Isaiah, reminding the people, God is in control, so don’t let the darkness of this time bring despair. God won’t let it overwhelm you.

The people of Jesus’ time once again lived in the kind of deep darkness and despair that had once afflicted their ancestors, as they endured imperial rule and oppression, this time, under Rome. This is a place where Judaism intersects paganism and nation intersects nation. Jesus chooses to begin there, and to live among the marginalized peoples, on the frontier known as “Galilee of the Gentiles.”

As Jesus relocates to this northern territory to begin his ministry, he reminds the people that while deep darkness once existed there, God, in his faithfulness, has spoken into the darkness of oppression and tyranny, and has delivered hope and light.

God is, once again, taking this amazing initiative towards those who are powerless and who have never even been considered.

       The first century people who populated this place feared the future. They wondered what would happen to them.

They wondered if they would lose their homes, their land, even their lives, when they could no longer pay the exorbitant taxes imposed by the Roman government.

They wondered if they would be able to feed their families. What would happen to them if they became too old or too sick to work?

What would happen to them and to their families if they said the wrong thing in the presence of the wrong people?

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them a light has shined.

But God sent the Word, the Light of the World, to this frontier land. And as Jesus began his ministry there, he began to tell the people to repent, for the kingdom of God has come near. It is this kingdom that will bring light to their darkness.

The light of this kingdom will banish darkness, and all those who live in fear, who doubt the future, who hunger and thirst for justice will be satisfied. And then, Jesus gets right to work.

Immediately Jesus called his first disciples. He calls these two sets of brothers, fishermen. Come, he says. Follow me.  So much about what Jesus does in this gospel is about inviting disciples, teaching disciples, calling people into discipleship: Come, follow me.

According to Frederick Dale Bruner, “Follow me” in rabbinic speech meant come, “become my students, be apprenticed to me, join my school, live with me.” Students spent almost every waking moment with their rabbis, they didn’t just come to temple to hear them lecture or speak. Discipleship was study-in-residence, it was home-schooling; you were immersed in your studies not only as theoretical learning but as a way of life. Jesus recruited his students, they didn’t come seeking him as was the norm for rabbinical studies. But Jesus is no ordinary rabbi. He is Lord and light of all life.

The gospel text today illustrates two important things: Jesus began his ministry not among the rich, nor within the population of Jews, “his people,” rather, he began with those quite literally on the margins.

Jesus valued all people and went first to those who were most in need – those who desperately needed that light, those who were powerless. And right away Jesus began calling disciples to serve along with him in those places. Jesus calls us the same way today.

       I wonder what Jesus might say if he came to visit us here today? We do some really good work with our outreach projects and with collections we have, but much of our work and most of our budget goes to maintenance. We maintain our building, we maintain a staff to serve us, we maintain the traditions and practices that have long been the staples for Grace Lutheran Church.

       What might it look like if we did as Jesus did and took the light of Christ and his ministry to the streets, to the places desperately in need of the light of Christ shining into the darkness of the world?

     
What might it look like if the main function of our worship was really to seek God’s forgiveness for our failures and then to seek the empowerment of the Spirit, so that we might boldly step out into the world with intentionality, sharing the light of God’s love and mercy, advocating for God’s values and justice, inviting others to hear and know the good news of this light-wielding God?

        The good news is that the kingdom of heaven has come among us – and between now and the time when Jesus comes again, we get to disciple with Christ and share the light of the kingdom with the world.

As Jesus chose to begin his work out on the frontier, so must we go out into the world to bring and bear the light of Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit, and working as disciples of Christ.

As Jesus called Andrew and Peter, James and John, and all the disciples that followed, Jesus calls you and me. Jesus calls us together in word and prayer, he calls us as church to shine his light and share his love and mercy and grace out into the margins of the world, where so many fear the darkness.

Jesus calls us to live our lives shaped by his light, because wherever we share his light and love through spreading peace and justice in the world, the kingdom appears and is made known.

Jesus calls us to hope as he shines the light in our lives and on our world. Jesus calls us to shine his light in worship and prayer, with and for each other, and in witness to the holy hope and life-giving light of Christ.

            Listen – Jesus is calling; Jesus calls to us, “Come follow me.”  

Let us follow as true disciples of the Light of the World.

Amen.

             

No Haggle Pricing - How Much Does THIS Cost?

Luke 14:25-33; Psalm 1; Deuteronomy 30:15-20

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father, from Jesus Christ our Lord, and from our Advocate, the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I have to acknowledge that beginning with such a greeting after hearing this gospel feels just plain weird.

“Grace, mercy and peace to you, but oh, yeah, to follow Jesus, you need to hate those who we have previously been commanded to love.” Is anyone else struggling with this seeming dichotomy?  This contradiction? With these words Jesus turns upside down our expectations of what grace and peace and mercy mean for us. Why? Why did Jesus say them?

If we look very deeply into the life of Jesus, we find that faithful discipleship is definitely not for the faint of heart, for those w

ho like to straddle the thin, white line, or for those who might think that if I just have enough faith, then discipleship is easy and its challenges will slip away and life will be filled with light, happiness, fulfillment, contentment and prosperity.

Instead, Jesus points out to us that there is a cost to discipleship. And the cost is steep, not to be taken lightly. This is not the first or only time that Jesus has driven home the point that true discipleship is not only costly, but those who follow Jesus, commit to a new modus operandi shaped by the cross. In fact Jesus has to repeatedly drive this point home, because The Way is so contrary to our nature, we of fainting hearts and a deep desire for comfort – even in our witness to the gospel.

While we may chafe against the reality of the demands of discipleship, the other scriptures paired with our gospel today indicate that this teaching is not new, it is simply reshaped for those of us who know Jesus as Lord, who have been transformed through his life, death, and resurrection.

Way back in the wilderness of exile and in those wandering years, Moses speaks to the Israelites who prepare to enter the Promised Land and he tells them that while they are soon to enter that place promised to their ancestors, there are choices that they will make that will lead either to life and prosperity, or to adversity and death.

Following God’s commandments will allow for life in the midst of the sometimes harsh and difficult realities of this world. Turning away from God will bring a unique kind of darkness that can never be penetrated by blessing or the light of true life, both for individuals and for community. This call to trust in God and to obey God’s commandments is for the good of all God’s creation.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus speaks frankly about the serious costs of following the Way of the Cross – the way of Jesus – the way of discipleship.

But if you are like me, there is one particular word that sticks out in today’s text and gives you trouble, and that’s the word “hate,” in verse 26. Deep down, I ‘hate’ that very word and have a hard time imagining it coming from Jesus’ mouth, except to describe how he feels about sin – injustice – racism – and other sins of -uh, hatred.

After all, I stand here all the time and remind you that God is a God of love. Jesus’ greatest commandment is to what? – “to love God and to love one another as we love ourselves.”

So what room in this love-feast is there, for hate? Particularly hate mandated by Christ as a requirement of discipleship? Hate directed at our parents, our siblings, our spouse and children? Didn’t Jesus read the Bible? Doesn’t he know how the hatred of kin wreaked havoc in the Old Testament?

And yet, what does Jesus say his followers must do? Whom should they “hate?” – Father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sister, even life itself.

Wow. Faithful discipleship is NOT for the faint of heart. The question most of us probably wrestle with is, do we really have to follow this instruction to follow Jesus? Does Jesus mean this literally – the way so many of us process words? Can’t I follow Jesus and still love my family? My friends and neighbors? My life?

At this point I think it is helpful to know that the Hebraic understanding of the word Jesus uses here is something that requires single-minded loyalty. Jesus wants us to follow him, possessing such single-minded loyalty.

As followers of Christ, we cannot stand with one foot in the world and one foot on The Way. We cannot equally love our lives as they are and commit to being the disciples Jesus is calling us to be. Discipleship requires radically reorienting our priorities and our actions to single-minded loyalty to the way of Jesus.

While Jesus loved his friends and his mother and sisters and brothers he did not let his love for them keep him looking inward. He did not let it hold him back. Instead, Jesus looked outward, inviting them along, but making his primary action all about obeying the will of God.

Jesus calls his followers to look to the outside, to care more for the good of our neighbor than to the comfort of ourselves. That’s hard. That’s costly – it means giving up things that are very dear to us. It means recognizing that this work, this discipleship isn't about us at all. It I about, and for the sake of Christ.

Jesus calls this church to commit to reaching out, inviting in and opening ourselves up bearing the cost of all that discipleship requires, so that we and those who are not yet among us might see and know and be transformed by the radical love of God, and become disciples too.

Jesus calls Grace to be the church Jesus calls us to be, not overcome with preserving the status quo, nor immersing ourselves in the maintenance of the building that houses us or even the relationships that reside within. Rather Jesus is calling us to be of single-minded purpose – carrying the cross, and following him.

Jesus modeled how transformative mission worked. God has sent people into our world to show us what that kind of discipleship looks like.  

One of those was canonized a saint in the Roman Catholic church today.

While we as Protestants, as Lutherans, do not pray to or venerate saints as our Catholic sisters and brothers do, we do look upon them as examples of faithful living, as individuals who have answered Christ’s call and dedicated their lives to a particular kind of discipleship, and single minded loyalty to Christ.

Mother Teresa of Kolkata was no different from any of us; saint and sinner, bound and free, recipient of God’s grace, mercy and love. She made a particular choice to follow Jesus’ example by ministering to the poorest of the poor. In photos taken of her in her work, you constantly see her touching people – poor people, starving people, homeless people, AIDS victims, dying people, orphaned and abandoned children. Jesus needs us to bear the cost of touching people.

St. Augustine said, “There is no saint without a past, no sinner without a future.” Our past includes the relationships that moor us to our beginnings. Our challenge and the joy that Jesus is calling us to is moving us into a future with single-minded loyalty to Jesus, always looking outward, always reaching out to others for the sake of the kingdom of God.

Sometimes that looks like a life singularly dedicated to relieving the suffering of others, like Mother Teresa’s was. Sometimes that looks like providing lunches, and meals, and clothing, and quilts, and canned food, and hospitality for the stranger, the homeless, and the needy. It looks like ministries we haven’t yet even begun to imagine or explore.

Jesus calls us not to comfortable membership in this church, but to fearless discipleship in his name. Jesus calls us not to maintain the status quo, but to engage in radical hospitality and ministry that will transform our lives and the lives of others, for the sake of Jesus Christ. By God’s grace and mercy, God promises in the midst of all this to be with us, blessing us, challenging us, sending us saints to join the priesthood of all believers of which we are a part, so that others can know the goodness of God. Let it be so.

          

The Story We Know so Well

Christmas Eve, 2013

Luke 2:1-20

          A friend tells the story of a chauffeur who had driven a chemistry professor to dozens of speaking engagements. He’d heard the same canned speech scores of times. On the way to yet another engagement he said, "Professor, I believe I could give your speech myself; I’ve heard it so often." The professor said, "I’ll bet you $50 you can’t." "You’re on," said the chauffeur.

He stopped the car and the two exchanged clothes. They arrived at the banquet, the chauffeur dressed in a tuxedo. Sitting at the head of the table, he stood up and gave the speech verbatim. There was a standing ovation when he was finished.

The emcee got up and said, "You know, we are so fortunate to have such a fine resource with us tonight, since we have a little extra time, let’s have some questions and answers.” The first question was asked and the chauffeur stood there dumbfounded, clearing his throat in nervousness. Finally he said, "That’s just about the dumbest question I ever heard. In fact it is so dumb I bet even my chauffeur could answer that question."

The gospel we have just read is a story that most of us have probably heard scores of times as well. We even hear it in secular circles, - even Linus in the Charlie Brown’s Christmas movie tells this story of the Nativity. These days, it is often repeated not as a story of faith, but as a sweet sentimental tale incorporated into the myths of many peoples. And so, I wonder what is there that I can say to you tonight that would be any different from what you’ve already heard? After all, many of you have probably told this Nativity tale yourselves many times before. It’s probably pretty safe to say that any of you could probably swap places with me up here and tell this story of the Birth of the Christ Child. Well, I won’t ask you to do that, but I wonder if you’ll help me tell the story – just fill in the blanks, if you will.

The story takes place in (Bethlehem). There was a man named (­Joseph) who had traveled there with his betrothed, (Mary) who was great with child.

We know “great with child” means that Mary was really, really pregnant! As luck would have it, with no room in the inn, tired and hungry as they were, the couple accepted the only place offered to them, where they might rest. Instead of a nice, comfy, clean room in a house or inn in downtown Bethlehem, Joseph and Mary ended up staying in a (stable). And as the timing of any birth tends to be unpredictable, often coming at the very worst, or least convenient of times, as Mary and Joseph are staying there in the stable, the baby (Jesus) is born, wrapped in strips of cloth, and laid in a (manger).

Before long, the new family had company. From the fields came the (shepherds), who had been nearly blinded by the brightness of the glory of an (angel) who had appeared to them in the field. This angel of the Lord announced to them the wonder of the birth of this special child, the Savior, the Messiah. So off went to visit the baby, (Jesus) in the (manger) at (Bethlehem).

I appreciate all the help you’ve given me in the telling of the story. But I wonder, in the telling of it, if we don’t sometimes gloss over the blemishes in the scene. I wonder if we don’t romanticize the details, to make it into what we want it to look like; to make it into what we want it to be. It’s not our fault, really; the story has inspired thousands of drawings, paintings, and sculptures. The scene has been depicted in cards, movies, cartoons, and books. It has been written of in hymns and Christmas carols, sacred and secular songs. Take our crèche here for instance. It’s beautiful! Like most nativity scenes, the characters are clean, neatly dressed, and really quite lovely, sweet and serene. The images imprinted on our minds about this story are probably pretty consistent with the characters as they appear here.

Not long ago, I was shopping in a gift shop, looking for some last minute Christmas gifts, and I came upon the selection of nativity sets for sale. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were very traditional, others quite contemporary; the nativity sets were from various cultures, and some showed characters with dark, even very black skin. Most, of course, like the ones we find in the majority of stores and catalogs in the Western world, revealed fair skinned characters, and one even displayed a curly blonde-haired blue-eyed baby Jesus.

The truth of the matter is that we love the story of the birth of Jesus, and we tend to make this story, and God, into an image that is comfortable, an image that is like us, when we are at our best, or what we imagine our best to be. We tell the sweet story of the journey this teenage girl, Mary, and her betrothed, Joseph, make into Bethlehem. We’re tempted to ignore their weariness and exhaustion after such a long trip, a trip made mandatory by the oppressive occupying government of their region, and their discouragement when they found “no vacancy” on the tongues of every innkeeper in town.

We overlook the terror that must have seized this innocent young girl, with the first pangs of the labor that would bring her babe into the world; realizing that she would have to birth this child not in the presence and with the help and skill of a midwife or even of the women of her village, with wisdom and knowledge they would share with her, but alone, in this unlikely place, among strangers, with only Joseph to tend her.

We ignore the reality that this child, the Son of God, was born in a mixture of fear and hope, not into a sweet smelling manger of our imaginings, surrounded by the docile, cuddly, freshly scrubbed cattle and sheep of our nativity scenes, but in the dim interior light of a dusty, dank, rustic barn where real animals lived!

And while Mary lay recovering from this birth, preparing to travel again with a newborn infant in tow, the shepherds come a-calling. Shepherds, men who lived in the fields with their sheep, who were themselves considered pretty lowly characters – are their first visitors. 

Now, I’m not trying to steal your Christmas magic. We should cherish Christmas! And I’m not saying that it’s wrong to embrace the story, to pull out those nativities and decorations, even if they include the hopelessly idealistic crèche scenes like the one I have in my own home.

Come as we have tonight, to this Christmas Eve, it’s our tendency to air-brush the blemishes of this story, freshen the air with sweet lullabies and carry on with our holiday.

But let’s not miss the real good news for us this night; the good news that God breaks through the fairy-tale nativity, and gives us Jesus. God breaks through the sin and the grime of the real world and presents us with a miracle - the incarnation of God-with-us, Jesus Christ. God bursts into our fear and sadness, our pain, our failures, our defeat, and the regret that makes us yearn for the fairy-tale and redeems us through the real deal – the birth of our Savior.

The real miracle of Christmas – is that God has chosen to dwell not with the rich or powerful, not with the air-brushed or perfect, and not with the high or mighty. God has chosen to dwell with the lowly, the unexpected, and the broken. God lifts up those who are powerless, and those who find themselves in over their heads and aren’t quite sure how their story will end. God has chosen to enter into the very real, dirty, sinful, scared, confused, chaotic, diverse, and sometimes – let’s face it – often, messy world.  And here, amid the weakness and vulnerability of human birth, God makes God's intentions for humanity fully known. God is love, love made manifest, as God takes human form.

God works in and through a young, innocent woman and grubby shepherds; God also works in and through us. God takes the weak and voiceless and places them right smack dab in the middle of the story of our salvation; God takes the despised of the world and raiss them up for God’s own good purpose. God doesn’t just break into the world, God transforms it, from a place of darkness and despair to a place of healing and hope. God doesn’t erase our blemishes, God uses them. The same God who created the world and everything in it, who loves the whole creation, who blesses and fills the earth, is the same God who overcomes death and the grave through the life, death, and resurrection of the Christ.  

          So tonight, let us sing our sweet Christmas carols. May our “Glorias” fill the air. May we gaze upon this crèche and know deep in our hearts the story it portrays is our story too. May we remember that as God lifted up the lowly and made their own songs glad with the wonders God wrought for them, God lifts us up through the gift in the manger, transforming us through God’s abundant love that makes everything new.

May you know the love made manifest in the Christ Child.  Let us sing, then, of God’s redeeming love until all know that “unto you is born this day the Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord!”

Blessed, Merry Christmas!