The Waking Dreamer: Advent

Showing posts with label Advent. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

Practicing Love in Community

Matthew 1:18-25; 1 Peter 2:21-23[1]

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, we celebrate the love that we have received through Jesus Christ. We just sang it together: “Love is the gift of Christmas.” As our Gospel lesson puts it, Jesus was born to be the one to “save us from our sins,” and to be “God-who-is-with-us” (Mt 1:21, 23). That’s what “Immanuel” means: “God-who-is-with-us.” That shouldn’t come as a surprise to us. We know that the heart of our faith is about sharing God’s love with others. We know that Jesus came to embody that love in a way that would empower us to put that love into practice. The idea isn’t a new one. And it wasn’t even a new one for Jesus. In our faith tradition, Moses taught it three thousand years ago: “you shall love your neighbor as yourselves” (Lev. 19:18). Throughout the centuries there have been many who have taught the practice of compassion. What was new was the way Jesus embodied it, not just as a human being, but as the one who is “God with us.” He put God’s love for us on display in the way he loved all those he encountered, both friends and so-called “enemies.”

Yes, Jesus embodied love even for his so-called “enemies.” Perhaps the most dramatic way he did that was by praying from the cross, “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk 23:34). But he also embodied it by never giving up on anyone, even his “enemies.” And he taught us to do the same. Others have also taught that. They taught their followers to practice compassion for all people and embodied that compassion even for those who could have been considered their “enemies.” However, I believe it’s true that Jesus was the first to say explicitly, “you shall love your enemies” (Mt 5:43-44). It’s probably an understatement to say that’s not an easy path to take. For Jesus, loving even his “enemies” meant giving up his life on the cross. Because showing God’s love even for one’s “enemies” cuts against the grain of everything we do by instinct.

As we continue to make our journey through Advent to the celebration of Christmas with Henri Nouwen as our guide, I think we might find his ideas challenging on this day. He described the kind of love Jesus embodied by saying, “Whenever, contrary to the world’s vindictiveness, we love our enemy, we exhibit something of the perfect love of God, whose will is to bring all human beings together as children of one Father. Whenever we forgive instead of getting angry at one another, bless instead of cursing one another, tend one another’s wounds instead of rubbing salt into them, hearten instead of discouraging one another, give hope instead of driving one another to despair, hug instead of harassing one another, welcome instead of cold-shouldering one another, thank instead of criticizing one another, praise instead of maligning one another… in short, whenever we opt for and not against one another, we make God’s unconditional love visible; we are diminishing violence and giving birth to a new community.”

Nouwen gets uncomfortably specific about what it means to follow Jesus by loving our “enemies.” It means forgiving instead of holding onto anger. It means healing wounds instead of rubbing salt into them. It means hugging instead of harassing. These are all incredibly counterintuitive. When someone hurts us, we instinctively want to protect ourselves. We do that with anger. When we rub salt in the wounds of someone who has wounded us, we’re protecting ourselves. When we criticize and turn a cold shoulder and speak of them in hurtful and harmful ways, we’re protecting ourselves. But, following Jesus, Nouwen invites us to take a different path. He invites us to “opt for and not against one another,” to choose to be on the side of those whom we perceive to be against us. It’s an astounding thing. And he says that when we make that choice, we are doing something that’s nothing short of miraculous. We’re making “God’s unconditional love visible; we are diminishing violence and giving birth to a new community.”

I think we could be forgiven for thinking that this is all far too much to expect from an ordinary human being. But also I think Nouwen is onto something important here. The love that we celebrate at Christmas is a wonderful gift to us, and we enjoy it. But it’s not just about making ourselves feel better. The love we celebrate at Christmas calls us to take the love that we’ve received from God and turn around and put it into practice for all those around us. Both “friends” and so-called “enemies.” That’s what Jesus did. He didn’t do that to prove that he was so much better than us. He did that to leave us “an example, so that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pet 2:21). And the way he did that was “When he was insulted, he did not reply with insults. When he suffered, he did not threaten revenge” (1 Pet 2:23, CEB).

Perhaps we should all take a moment to let that sink in. When Jesus was insulted, he did not reply with insults. When he suffered, he did not threaten revenge. To borrow Nouwen’s words, when Jesus was met with anger and curses, he did not respond in kind. Instead, he forgave: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing”! And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. When Jesus was not only maligned but also falsely accused of the worst they could throw at him, he did not respond with hurtful and harmful accusations in reply. And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. When Jesus was subjected to violence, when he was beaten and spat upon and crucified, he did not threaten to get even. He forgave those who were literally stripping his life away. And he did that to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps.

When you think about it that literally, I don’t think we should be surprised if we’re wondering whether Jesus really wanted us to follow his example and practice love like that. It’s understandable. That’s a hard thing to ask, for us to follow that path. But I would say the answer to the question is, “yes.” Yes, indeed. Most definitely. Jesus was “making God’s unconditional love” visible in every way possible, not only by healing the sick and caring for those who were suffering, but also and most particularly by loving his so-called “enemies” enough to forgive them. Enough to give his life for them. That’s a high standard for love. Perhaps the highest the human family has ever seen.

In fact, it’s such a high standard we may want to let ourselves off the hook. After all, can one really expect all this from an ordinary human being? We assume that Jesus loved even his “enemies” because he was much more than an ordinary human being. And we assume that no one would ever expect ordinary human beings like us to live up to such a high standard. But that phrase from Scripture in 1 Peter reminds us that he did all that he did precisely to leave us an example that we should follow in his steps. Yes, I believe Jesus expects us as those who claim to trust in him to literally follow his example and practice love like that toward everyone, even and especially toward those we may consider “enemies.” In fact, I would say that if we truly grasp the extent of God’s unconditional love for us, and the extent to which Jesus calls us to share that same love with everyone, then we really cannot look at anyone as an “enemy.”

When Jesus said, “you shall love your enemies,” he was talking about people who could literally come and take everything away from you by force, including your life. Most of us don’t have to learn to love “enemies” like that. We don’t have to fear that someone will come and invade our home, drag us out, and take our lives away from us. We find it hard enough just to love the people who spread false rumors behind our backs. Or those who rub salt in our wounds or turn a cold shoulder to us instead of standing beside us when we’re struggling. But if that’s where we perceive our “enemies” to be, then that’s where we can begin. We can begin to transform every so-called “enemy” into a friend by extending to them the same unconditional love God has given each one of us in Jesus Christ. When we do that, as Henri Nouwen said, we are not only “making God’s unconditional love visible,” but we’re also “giving birth to a new community.” Think of it: a community where even “enemies” are turned into friends. A community where we don’t even look at anyone as an “enemy,” rather we consider all to be friends. A community where we extend to one another the same unconditional love and acceptance God has given to us. That’s a whole new kind of community. That’s what the love we celebrate at Christmas is about: creating a whole new kind of community where people turn even so-called “enemies” into friends, just like Jesus did.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, PhD on 12/21/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Letters to Marc About Jesus, 55.

Monday, December 22, 2025

Finding Joy in Community

Isaiah 35:1-10; Matthew 11:1-15[1]

As we make our journey through Advent with Henri Nouwen this year, you would think that joy would be the easiest of the four themes to talk about. With the festivities, decorations, music, and parties, we “should” have a lot to be joyful about. But the truth is that for many of us, this is not the “most wonderful time of the year.” Some of us see all the celebrating, all the family gatherings, all the “fun” that everyone else seems to be having, and we feel like we’re on the outside looking in. It can seem like there’s a chain-link fence separating us from everybody who’s having so much fun, and we just can’t find our way in. In fact, for some of us, while we may feel that way most intensely at this time of year, that’s how it seems all year around. We’re aware that there’s joy “out there somewhere,” but we just can’t seem to find it.

I would say that can actually be a failure of community. Yes, it might be the result of that person’s choices. But all too often, in these days, it’s a failure to live together in community in all its different expressions. Families, churches, even towns and cities can be badly divided by everything that’s going on in our world these days. And when we turn on one another, instead of encouraging, affirming, and supporting one another, we can cause great pain. We see it in families that go their separate ways. But what we may not see is that any time we fail to embrace someone enough that they no longer feel like they’re on the outside of that fence looking in, our community has failed. Any time we intentionally shun someone because they’re just “too different” from us, our community has failed. And when that happens, community can become a source of pain instead of a source of joy.

As we look to Henri Nouwen for inspiration this Advent, he says it this way: “In my own community, with many severely handicapped men and women, the greatest source of suffering is not the handicap itself, but the accompanying feelings of being useless, worthless, unappreciated, and unloved. It is much easier to accept the inability to speak, walk, or feed oneself than it is to accept the inability to be of special value to another person. … Instinctively we know that the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.”[2] Joy comes from living together in a community where we feel like we belong and we are loved. All too often, the pain in our lives comes from our failure to live together well in community.

As I’ve mentioned before, Henri Nouwen served as the chaplain in a community where cognitively disabled persons and their caregivers lived together. As a Catholic priest, he celebrated the Lord’s Supper every day. As a member of the community he served, he welcomed everyone to take part, regardless of whether they were “worthy.” I would imagine he knew quite well many people who struggled with feeling “useless, worthless, unappreciated, and unloved.” Given my personal experience with communities of mentally handicapped persons, they seem to have an intuitive grasp on the fact that “the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.” In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they taught Henri that truth.

Those of us who are more “normal” may try to find our joy in other places. We find our “joy” in the level of success we have achieved. And we may try to demonstrate it by the kinds of homes we buy, the kinds of cars we drive, and the kinds of clothes we wear. Or we find our joy in the knowledge that we’re comfortable financially, or in the “busyness” of our social calendar. We may feel like we’ve really “made” it when we get our picture in the paper on the society page. Those kinds of external sources for joy, however, are notoriously unreliable. We never really know what the stock market is going to do. There’ve been times when people have lost a great deal of money in one single day of trading. The market is vulnerable to all kinds of changes, and given the general instability of the world these days, we have to reckon with the possibility that something like that can happen again. Our most prized possessions can literally go up in smoke or in a storm in a matter of minutes. When we make our joy in life dependent on our circumstances we’re skating on thin ice!

In a sense, our Gospel lesson for today addresses this question. John, who identified Jesus as the Messiah when he baptized him, had begun to question his faith. He was in prison, and Jesus wasn’t acting like he expected the Messiah to act. So he sent his disciples to ask, “Are you the one who is supposed to come? Or should we look for someone else?” (Mt 11:3, NIrV). Jesus answered: “Go back to John. Report to him what you hear and see. Blind people receive sight. Disabled people walk. Those who have skin diseases are made ‘clean.’ Deaf people hear. Those who are dead are raised to life. And the good news is preached to those who are poor” (Mt 11:4-5, NIrV). I would say that’s the closest thing we have in Matthew’s Gospel to Jesus claiming that he was indeed the Messiah.

The way he makes that claim is with a summary of the promises of salvation found especially in the book of the prophet Isaiah. We heard some of those promises in our lesson for today: “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be opened; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy” (Isa 35:5-6). And Isaiah says that all those who have been “ransomed” by the Lord, which is a way of talking about salvation, will have “everlasting joy” (Isa 35:10). John was in prison. He wondered if he had picked the wrong “horse.” Jesus called John to rejoice because he was indeed fulfilling the promises of God’s salvation.

One of the things that drew me to ask Henri Nouwen to guide us through the season of Advent this year is his deep and firm commitment to the importance of community in all our lives. He saw it firsthand. I think one of the most significant obstacles to finding joy together in community is when we may harbor grudges or bitterness against one another. We all do it. Someone lets us down, someone hurts our feelings, someone fails to live up to our expectations, and we hold a grudge, sometimes for years. But there’s an old saying about that. Holding a bitterness against someone is like drinking poison ourselves and expecting it to hurt someone else. We’re only hurting ourselves. The way to find joy in the community of people who follow Jesus is through forgiveness. Jesus said it: “forgive as you have been forgiven.” We pray it every Sunday, “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.” The way to find joy in a real-life community of people who let us down, who hurt our feelings, who fall short of our expectations is through forgiveness. It gives us joy, and it gives them joy.

Most of us have our own reasons for celebrating at this time of the year, whether it’s gathering with family, or the food we enjoy, or the music, or the decorations. But the reason for the joy of the season is because in Jesus Christ God has come to be “with us” in a way that bears our griefs and carries our sorrows, as the prophet Isaiah also says. That’s how we can find our joy together in this community, regardless of our circumstances. We start with the joy we have because God has given us himself in the person of Jesus. But as Henri Nouwen reminds us, we find that joy most fully when we find it together in this community. In this community where we can let one another down, where we can hurt one another’s feelings, where we can fall short of one another’s expectations. In this community we can hold grudges or feel bitter toward one another. In this community where we learn to practice forgiveness.

And it’s here. There’s joy here if we have eyes to see it and ears to hear it. Those of us who can be here on Wednesday evenings experience it every week. Whether it’s around the tables or in a boisterous classroom, whether it’s in the kitchen or in the music room (and we have fun in the music room, make no mistake!). It’s here. We have joy together in this community. We all experience it every Sunday when we gather together. Especially during our greeting time. It’s one of the things I enjoy most about our worship service. If that’s true for you as well, I’m fine with that. The reason is because while Bible teaching is one of the important foundations for Christian community, so is fellowship. It’s through fellowship that we find joy together as a community. We find it around tables enjoying a meal together, or right here in worship, sharing life with one another week after week. There’s joy here. Sometimes we just have to get past the things that are blocking our ability to see that joy, and allow ourselves to experience it.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/14/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World, 72-73.

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

Finding Peace in Community

Isaiah 11:1-10[1]

As I mentioned last week, I’m following the lead of one of my favorite authors as we make our journey through Advent this year. I’m asking Henri Nouwen to be our guide as we reflect together on what the themes of Advent—hope, peace, joy, and love—mean for us in our daily living. And as I discussed last week, one of Nouwen’s convictions is that we hold onto those aspects of our faith together in community. This week we are looking at how we find peace in community with one another. That might seem like a strange way to find peace. So much of what we hear about peace these days emphasizes finding peace with and within ourselves. And that’s no small task. It seems that our personal peace can be so easily disturbed. We let a hurtful remark that someone makes disrupt our peace, whether they meant it to be hurtful or not. We let the outcome of sporting events upset us, especially when we think the referees called the game unfairly! Our personal peace is easily disturbed!

Most of you know that I’ve participated in Twelve Step programs for years. I’m not an alcoholic or an addict, but I have been affected by people whose lives were impacted by alcohol or drugs. I recently had someone ask me why I continue to participate in those programs year after year. She asked me, “Do you have to do this in order not to drink?” Obviously, she misunderstood the purpose of the meeting. My answer to her is still the reason why I “keep coming back,” as we say at the conclusion of every meeting. I’m there because I’m learning healthy ways to live my life, and I want to stay on that path. More than that I want to share that path with other people. Every so often we have new people who come into our fellowship who are hurting deeply. One of the things we say in our meetings is that we gather together to share our experience, strength, and hope, especially with people who are in the midst of crisis.

As many of you know, one of the central features of the twelve-step program is the “Serenity Prayer”: most of us know it in this form, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” And in the twelve-step program, what we continually remind each other is that we cannot change or control what anyone else thinks or feels or says or does. That’s true at the level of our personal lives. It’s also true at the level of our families, our communities, our nation, and our world. We cannot change or control what anyone else thinks or feels or says or does. Even and especially when it affects us directly. What we can change is how we respond, how we choose to live our lives, and whether or not we stay true to our values. And I keep going back to my meetings because I’m still learning to live that way in that community of people.

The quote I want to share with you this week from Henri Nouwen is this: “Friendship, marriage, family, religious life, and every other form of community … can become ways to reveal to each other the real presence of God in our midst. Community has little to do with mutual compatibility. Similarities in educational background, psychological makeup, or social status can bring us together, but they can never be the basis for community. Community is grounded in God, who calls us together, and not in the attractiveness of people to each other…. The mystery of community is precisely that it embraces all people, whatever their individual differences may be, and allows them to live together as brothers and sisters of Christ and sons and daughters of his heavenly Father.”[2]

Again, my reading of Henri Nouwen’s books has made it abundantly clear to me that we learn how to live the Christian life only as we come together with a community of people who are also learning how to live the Christian life. It’s not something we can do on our own. Not fully. Nouwen reminds us that every form of community we experience can be the place to reveal “the real presence of God” among us. He insists that community, at least the community that makes a real difference in our lives, is “grounded in God.” That’s especially true in the community of those who claim to follow Jesus. As Nouwen points out, the community we share with each other in the body of Christ is not based on whether or not we’re “compatible” in any particular way, whether it’s ethnic background, or personality, or social and political viewpoint, or lifestyle, or family structure. Our community together in this congregation is based on God’s presence in our lives. That’s what brings us together, and that’s what holds us together. And when that is the case, then our community “embraces all people, whatever their individual differences may be, and allows them to live together as brothers and sisters of Christ and sons and daughters of his heavenly Father.”

That’s what brings us together as a community. And it’s the presence of God in our lives that creates peace between us that will last through all the ups and downs of our lives together. We live in a world where peace may seem like just a “dream.” Especially the kind of peace that the Prophet Isaiah envisioned when he foresaw a time when real justice would be extended to all people, especially those who have been exploited by the rich and powerful. It seems like those who are exceedingly rich and powerful always have a way of getting out of having to face the consequences of their actions, and those whom they have exploited never really have things made right for them. That peace that Isaiah foresaw can seem like a dream. So can the peace that he envisioned extending from the human family to embrace all of nature, so that the “the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all” (Isa 11:6, NLT). But that kind of peace that can seem too good to be true is precisely what God is creating in and through us in this community, right here and right now.

It seems to me that is the basis for our peace in this world—at least any peace that is lasting. It starts with the peace that we have with God through Jesus Christ. Our experience of being loved and accepted by God—unconditionally, irrevocably, and without any qualifications or exceptions—enables us to find peace with ourselves. As we learn to accept ourselves as those who are beloved by God—always and forever—we find peace that endures all the circumstances we may have to live with. When we have peace with God and come to be at peace with ourselves, then we can extend that peace to those around us. We can accept the people in our community, regardless of any differences that may threaten to undermine our community.

We can live in peace with one another when we learn to do as the Apostle Paul said in the lesson from Romans for today: “accept each other just as Christ has accepted you” (Rom 15:7, NLT). Again, in these days when there is so much division and strife among us, that might seem like a “dream.” Some of you may be able to remember a time when the larger community in this place was divided based on whether your ancestors were German or Dutch. They went to different grocery stores, and they went to different churches. We’ve moved past that now. These days, the dividing lines are drawn based on social and political views. But as we gather in this place, however, the presence and the work of God in our lives overrules all the lines that may appear to divide us. The peace that lasts is the peace that is based on God’s presence among us. It’s based on the fact that we recognize God’s presence in each other. That’s the peace that keeps us together.

I believe with Henri Nouwen that we learn that peace best as we practice it in a community of people who come from all kinds of different backgrounds and perspectives. When we learn to live in peace in this community, with those who hold opinions that we may find offensive, we’re developing peace like a muscle. The peace we find in a real community like this one despite the differences between us is a peace that can sustain us in our divided world. Perhaps more than that, it can begin to make that dream of peace from Scripture a little more real in our lives.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Making All Things New, 82-83.

Wednesday, December 03, 2025

Embodying the Light in Community

Isaiah 2:1-5[1]

Most of you know that I am primarily a Bible teacher and preacher. I’m not much of a storyteller. I’m also not much for telling jokes in the pulpit. There are others who have those gifts. Mine is that I’ve spent a lifetime studying the Bible. And I try to share as clearly as I can the insights I’ve gained over the years. I know that when I’m in my “Bible preacher” mode I can come across as intimidating. When I was a seminary professor, I was always amazed when students told me that some of their peers were intimidated by me. I know what I know, and I’m not shy about speaking out about it. But I also care more deeply about people than about being “right” about anything. I think that’s why I am always surprised to learn that some people may find my preaching intimidating.

I think one of the most important things I would want to share about the insights I’ve gained over the years is that much of it did not originate with me. Yes, I have read through the New Testament in the original Greek text. And that gave me access to some insights that I gained on my own. But so much of what I “know” I learned from those who have served the body of Christ before me. Bible scholars, theologians, professors, pastors, and friends have shared their insights with me, and they’ve left deep impressions. Over the years, their contributions have become so much a part of who I am that I can no longer sort out what came from where. Not precisely. But there are some people who have influenced me deeply. If you haven’t heard me say it before, while I’ve studied and studied with world-class scholars, it was my younger brother, Douglas, with his various disabilities, who shaped me perhaps most deeply.

I’ve mentioned before that one of my favorite authors who shaped me is Henri Nouwen. He was a professor at some of the most prestigious theological schools in this country. He pioneered in the study and teaching of pastoral care. And after spending a year’s sabbatical at a community in France where mentally disabled people and their caregivers lived together, he walked away from the academic world to serve as the chaplain at a similar community in Toronto. I’ve learned a great deal over the years from reading Nouwen’s books. I’m still learning some of the lessons his insights have to teach me. I think I might be learning some of those lessons all my life, truth be told.

I bring him up because I’m going to do something different this year for Advent. I’m going to ask Henri Nouwen to be our guide through Advent. Each week I’m going to share my reflections on the four themes of Advent—hope, peace, joy, and love—based on a quote from Nouwen. And not surprising to me, one of the themes that these quotes will continually emphasize is community. Nouwen was keenly aware that we practice our faith, we continually learn what it means to follow Jesus, we keep discovering new ways for our faith to make us more like Christ in our daily lives precisely as we live together in community with one another.

This week, the focus of our Advent expectation is hope. Hope can be the essential cord that holds everything together. Yet it’s like silk, which can at times be strong, and at times can be fragile. I don’t know about you, but lately my hope has been feeling somewhat weak, as if the very fabric has come unraveled to some extent. That’s a scary feeling, for anybody. As I mentioned in my sermon a couple of weeks ago, St. Paul teaches us that when we endure hardship, it reinforces hope. But as I shared, in my experience many times it is our hope that helps us to endure. When our hope seems to give way, however, we may be left feeling like we’re falling into an abyss of fear.

The quote I want to share with you from Henri Nouwen is this: “Christian community is the place where we keep the flame of hope alive among us and take it seriously so that it can grow and become stronger in us. In this way we can live with courage, trusting that there is a spiritual power in us when we are together that allows us to live in this world without surrendering to the powerful forces constantly seducing us toward despair. That is how we dare to say that God is a God of love even when we see hatred all around us. That is why we can claim that God is a God of life even when we see death and destruction and agony all around us. We say it together. We affirm it in each other. Waiting together, nurturing what has already begun, expecting its fulfillment—that is the meaning of marriage, friendship, community, and the Christian life.”[2]

Nouwen reminds us that we keep “the flame of hope alive” in community in all its forms, and especially in this community. We keep the flame of hope alive in our hearts and in each others’ hearts as we make the journey together in community with one another, committed to walking this path together as the body of Christ, committed to helping each other complete the journey, especially when we may grow weak or stumble and fall. It is only as we encourage each other along the way that we can keep trusting the promises of our faith. Think about the ones we heard from the Scripture lesson from Isaiah for today. When in the history of this world has any nation beaten “their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks” (Isa 2:4, NIV)? When in the story of the human family has any nation given up warfare and stopped treating those who are “other” or “different” as enemies? It hasn’t happened! Instead, as Nouwen says, what we see are “death and destruction,” and we see that “all around us.” It can at times take the very life out of our faith and our hope. It can leave us despairing of the world that we are leaving to our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren!

But that is precisely why our life together in this community of faith is so very important. Because, as Nouwen wisely observes, we keep our faith and our hope alive by “saying it together.” We keep our faith and our hope alive by “affirming it in each other.” We do that by worshipping together right here. That’s why worshipping together is so important. That’s where we keep our faith and our hope alive together. We do that in this community. Yes, in this community where some of us hold long-standing hurts over offenses we’ve inflicted on each other. In this community where some of us have let others down. In this community where we may be afraid to speak our deepest truth out loud, for fear of having others gossip about us. We keep “the flame of hope alive” as we nurture it and affirm it together in a real, live, flawed community of real, live, flawed people.

I think what Nouwen might be calling our attention to is that Christian hope, real hope that has the strength to face the real world with everything in it that we want look away from, takes root and grows in our hearts as we share it together with real people in a real community. Even and especially when that community might include people we may not particularly like. If our hope is to remain alive in the real world, it has to be nurtured in a real, live community, flaws and all. In fact, as Nouwen reminds us, that is the very meaning of Christian community: it’s the place where we affirm our faith and our hope together. We nurture hope in one another precisely as we affirm it in one another, even and especially in those we may not care to have in our community! And as we do so more and more, we embody in ourselves and in this community the light of life that Jesus has given to us. That’s what keeps “the flame of hope,” real hope, hope that can stand up to the challenges of real life, alive in each other.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Finding My Way Home, 105-107; cited in Henri Nouwen, You Are the Beloved: 365 Daily Readings and Meditations for Spiritual Living, 361.

Monday, December 23, 2024

The Promise of Love

Luke 1:39-55[1]

Most of us know the elation we feel over the promise of love. When we meet someone we think might be a good partner for us, the hope and the dream of a loving relationship is one that can make our heart sing. It may even make us sing out loud! But at the same time, many of us know the heartbreak that happens when the promise of love isn’t fulfilled. Not every relationship works out, mainly because we’re all broken in some way. It’s painful when that happens. But more than that, when our hope for love is shattered, it may make it hard for us to trust in the promise of love at all. Whether it’s love from our family and friends, or even love from God, when our hearts are broken, it can leave us wondering if we can trust the promise of love at all.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of the main reasons why Jesus came was to demonstrate God’s love for us. His birth, the way he lived his life, and his death on the cross were all a magnificent demonstration of the biblical truth that God has loved us from before the foundation of the world, and that God will continue to love us through all the ages, forever and forever. I think we need to hear that, because many of us struggle with feeling that we are loved. Especially at this time of the year, we may feel unloved and empty. But we celebrate the birth of Jesus at this time of year as the birth of the one who came to fulfill the promise of God’s love, for us and for all people.

In our lesson from Luke’s Gospel for today, we hear the story of Mary and Elizabeth. Both of them were in vulnerable positions. Mary was a peasant girl from a small backwater town in the middle of nowhere. She had no wealth, no position, nothing to count on but God. Mary calls herself God’s “lowly servant girl” (Lk 1:48, NLT). I’m sure she knew what it was to feel “lowly” simply because of her status in life: she was a young woman in a world where women had no rights. She was one of the common people, with no power or position in Jewish society. Even at a young age, I have to think she may have wondered what the meaning of her life might be. She had good reason to be “confused” and even afraid when the angel Gabriel told her about the special task God had chosen her to carry out.

That task was the one of being chosen by God to give birth to the boy who would grow up to be the man who would fulfill God’s promise of love for her people, along with all the peoples of the world! But Mary’s pregnancy put her in a dangerous situation. She could have easily been suspected of doing something that the people of her village would have considered offensive enough to have her stoned to death! She also had to trust in God’s love to protect her as she took on this dangerous task. That’s what makes it so amazing that despite her fear and confusion, she had the faith in response to Gabriel’s assurance that “no word from God will ever fail,” to answer, “I am the Lord’s servant; May your word to me be fulfilled” (Lk 1:37-38, NIV). She trusted God to fulfill his promise of love.

So it is that Elizabeth blessed Mary because of her faith “that the Lord would do what he said” (Lk 1:45, NLT). Elizabeth had a much different position in Jewish society as the wife of the priest Zechariah. But as a woman who had passed the age of childbearing without having any children, she lived with a unique kind of vulnerability herself. Although it was unfair, the “blame” for not bearing children was heaped on the women of that day. More than that, she faced a very uncertain future without children to support her in her old age. And yet, there she was, filled with joy over her own child, and not only recognizing Mary’s great faith, but blessing her for it. I think at that moment Elizabeth’s affirmation was probably just what Mary needed!

Luke tells us that Mary burst into a song of praise to God. She praised God for being merciful “from generation to generation,” in other words, always and forever (Lk 1:50). She praised God for “lifting up the lowly” and “filling the hungry with good things” (Lk 1:52-53). She was not only thinking about the wonderful thing God was doing through her, but also the joy that had surprised Elizabeth. There they were, two women who were by all external measures incredibly vulnerable, celebrating the goodness and mercy that God had shown them both. They were celebrating God’s fulfillment of his promise of love.

But more than that, Mary had the faith and insight to recognize that what was happening through her was meant to benefit her people, and all the peoples of the world. She said that what was happening was a matter of God keeping the promise he made to Abraham. You may recall that promise: God would give to Abraham and Sarah so many descendants that they would become a great nation (Gen 12:2). He made that promise because of his love for Abraham and Sarah. But the purpose of his blessing to Abraham and Sarah was that “in you all the families of the earth will be blessed” (Gen 12:3). Just like Mary, God chose Abraham and Sarah to fulfill his promise of love for all people. And Mary’s song celebrated the faith that God was doing just as he promised in and through her.

I think our Gospel lesson is a good reminder that God delights in accomplishing his work even and especially when it seems like it may be impossible. That was Mary’s initial reaction: “how can this be?” And Gabriel’s response was “nothing is impossible for God”! It can be hard for us to wrap our head around the idea that God came into this world as a baby born of Mary. She was someone who had no rights, no power, no position or privilege. And choosing to say yes to God’s purpose for her life put her very life in danger. But God had chosen her to bear a son who would fulfill his promise of love for all people.

I think there’s a lesson in this story for all of us. We all face times in our lives when the task that is set before us may seem impossible. We may struggle to even trust that God loves us enough to see us through. We may feel vulnerable and afraid. But, like Mary, we can remember that through all of what we may experience in this life, both the “good” and the “not so good,” God is always working in and through our lives to fulfill his promise of love. God fulfills his promise through our willingness to say with Mary, “I am the Lord’s servant; May your word to me be fulfilled.” Saying that means we’re willing to trust God to do what may seem impossible to us. It means that we’re willing to take the risk of making ourselves vulnerable for God to fulfill his promise of love not only for us, but also for all the people in our lives, and for all the people of this world.

Joyful

Luke 3:1-18[1]

You may have gathered that today is the Sunday in Advent when we celebrate the joy of the season. That’s why we light a pink candle on this day. It’s meant to be different from the other Sundays in Advent. On the other hand, one of the ironies of Advent is that on this day when we emphasize the joy of the season, the Gospel reading always points us to John the Baptist. If you remember your Bible, you may recall that John the Baptist didn’t exactly have the most cheerful message. In fact, I would say that John’s vision of the kingdom of God was very different from what Jesus preached. It sounds like John believed what God was doing in the world was primarily punishing wrongdoers. When you listen closely to Jesus, while he called people to repent of all the ways they lived that harmed themselves or others, he also forgave them. He offered them God’s unfailing love. Jesus called people to a relationship with God as a loving father.

Our Gospel lesson from Luke for today tells the story of John’s ministry of baptizing the people who came to him. But John responds to them in a strange way in Luke’s Gospel. Luke tells us that when John saw the crowds coming to be baptized by him, he turned them away, calling them a “brood of snakes” (Luke 3:7 NLT)! This is different from what we hear in the other Gospels. Especially in Matthew, where the harsh words we hear John hurling at the crowds are reserved only for the Pharisees and Sadducees (Mt 3:7). At first glance, we might think that John needed to work on his “people skills”! But what seems to be going on is that Luke understood that the call to repentance John made to the Jewish religious leaders applied to everyone.[2] In order for them to experience the salvation of the Lord they would have to “Prove by the way you live that you have repented of your sins and turned to God” (Lk. 3:8 NLT). In the words Luke quotes from the prophet Isaiah in our gospel lesson, for the people to experience God’s salvation, what was crooked must first be made straight, and what was rough must be smoothed (Lk 3:5-6 NLT).

The way John defined what that looked like turns out to be very practical. Perhaps even surprisingly so. When the people asked him what they should do, he said simply, “If you have two shirts, give one to the poor. If you have food, share it with those who are hungry” (Lk 3:11). At first glance, that may sound too easy. But I would say there’s a lot behind that statement. Truly sharing what we have with those who are in need is something that comes from the heart. And for us to be willing to share generously, we have to undergo a change of heart. That kind of generosity doesn’t always come naturally to us. It seems to be human nature to be more concerned with our own welfare than someone else’s. Especially someone we don’t even know.

I think those of us who have experienced that kind of change of heart know by experience that it takes the power of God’s love. We cannot truly turn away from a life that is self-centered without the work of the Spirit convicting us that to live that way is not only harmful to others, but also to ourselves. While it’s true that the kind of repentance and change of life that John was talking about is a choice that we all make, not just once but time and time again, it’s also true that for that change to be real, for it to truly make a difference in the way we live, God has to be the one to change our hearts.

That’s where I see the difference between John and Jesus. John called the people out on the ways they were not living generously. Jesus offered them something more. He offered them God’s grace, which means that God accepted them as they were. He offered them God’s love, a love that always had been and always would remain true. What we know by our experience is that when Jesus offers us a relationship with the God who loves us and accepts us completely and unconditionally just as we are, it is something that can and does truly change our hearts. I think that’s why Jesus’ ministry had a more “joyful” tone than John’s.

On the other hand, we shouldn’t be surprised that Jesus and John were on the same page about what they said the people should do. Most of us are familiar with Jesus’ words, “I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me” (Mt 25:35-36, NLT). It’s not hard to see that this is a longer version of what John said. What we might easily miss, however, is what stands behind this way of life. This is a way of life: giving food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, giving welcome to the stranger, clothing for the naked, and caring for the sick. There’s a lot that lies behind that as a way of life.

In a very real sense, it’s the same thing we find in the Ten Commandments. The very beginning of the Commandments puts it this way: “I am the Lord your God, who rescued you from the land of Egypt” (Ex 20:2, NLT). That’s where the whole life of service to God starts. The idea is that God had set the people free from slavery, and the way that they would stay free was by aligning their lives with God’s ways. This is the way they would truly find joy and fulfillment. This is the way they would truly find life![3] The same remains true for us today. We offer our lives in service to others, in obedience to God, seeking to follow Jesus and his way because we’ve experienced God’s love and God’s unconditional welcome, and it has changed our hearts.

Again, I don’t think we should be surprised that Jesus and John the Baptist were on the same page about his. We find that same point of view reflected time and time again in the prophets. The way to live a life that is truly joyful is to surrender our hearts and lives to God and follow his ways to the best of our ability. The way to live a life that is truly joyful is to live generously. But we can only do that with God’s help.

When God welcomes us with open arms, when God accepts us unconditionally, when God’s love embraces us, we cannot help but share that same welcome, acceptance, and love with others. To borrow the metaphor from the hymn, when the warm rays of God’s love truly touch our hearts, we find that our hearts “unfold like flowers” before him. And as we do the “clouds of sadness” and “dark of doubt” are driven away. Then we join with all God’s “works” that call us to join in the great chorus of joy reflected back to him, not only with our words, but also with our lives. When we know that “love divine is reigning o’er us,” we can share love with other people generously, and live a life that is truly joyful.

[2] Cf. Joel Green, Theology of the Gospel of Luke, 36-37, where he suggests that Luke wanted to place special emphasis the importance of repentance as a “radical realignment of their lives with God’s purpose” that should be demonstrated in every aspect of their daily lives.

[3] Cf. Perry Yoder, “Liberated by Law,” Sojourners Magazine, September-October 1999 (Vol. 28, No. 5), 46. Cf. also John Shelby Spong, Living Commandments, 14, 15, where he says that the Ten Commandments are the principles through which we find “the fullness of life, the depth of love, and the meaning of our own humanity.”

Tuesday, December 03, 2024

The Hopes and Fears of All the Years

The Hopes of All the Years

Luke 21:25-33[1]

As we begin the celebration of the Advent season, I think it may be helpful for us to remind ourselves what it’s about. In the original church tradition, Advent was meant to be a time of reflection in preparation for the celebration of the “Twelve Days of Christmas” from December 25 to January 6. The idea was that we prepare to celebrate the “coming of the Lord” by waiting quietly and patiently for Christmas to come. Lighting the candles on the advent wreath, and even using advent calendars, have been traditional ways to practice this “waiting.” Of course, these days the Advent season is filled with all kinds of celebrations of Christmas, which in our minds is over on December 26. Some people who are sticklers for liturgical correctness complain about this every year. I used to do some of that complaining myself. I’d like to think I’ve mellowed from being such a liturgical stickler!

If we think about the focus of the four Sundays in Advent: hope, peace, love, and joy, then maybe the way we “celebrate” Advent isn’t all that far off from the original intent. As we approach the end of the year, many of us may focus on the hopes we may have for the coming year. While the busy-ness of the season may make it not so peaceful to some of us, it is a time when we think about peace in our world: peace between countries, peace between different factions in our country, peace with those who may have anything against us, peace between family members. Advent is a time when we sing songs that tend to remind us of the love that we have in our lives, and the love that God has given us. It’s a time when we may go out of our way to be loving toward our friends and family. And as we seek to practice the kindness and giving associated with the season, it all reminds us of the joy we have in our lives.

I realize that much of that may not hold true for some of us. This may be a time for many of us when our hopes have dimmed and faded. We may struggle to hold onto our hope in the face of all that life continues to throw our way. Some of us may have had a difficult year, and we may simply feel weary from all the losses and disappointments we’ve had to bear. Or maybe this year hasn’t been that kind of year for some of us, but you’ve had years like that in the past. All of it can make “hope” seem like a flimsy thing to use to get through difficult times. Our past experiences may make the songs of hope we sing in this season sound hollow to some of us. So, on this first Sunday of Advent, when we celebrate the hope that the birth of Jesus represents for us, we may be wondering what good hope can do for us.

Especially in the uncertain times we live in, most of us would probably choose safety and stability over hope. As much as we may be looking forward to new things in our lives, we like to know that tomorrow will be, in all essentials, basically the same as today. We rely on the stability of the routines that make our lives familiar. But our experience of recent years may have left us wondering whether anything in our lives is really stable or secure. That’s a question that’s more than unsettling; if we’re honest, we have to admit it’s downright scary! Again, it can leave us wondering what good “hope” can do for us.

In our Gospel lesson for today Jesus addressed this question, but in a way that might seem to be coming through the back door. He was answering the questions his disciples had about the uncertainty of his times. But he did so in a way that they may have found less than reassuring. The setting of our lesson is the final week of Jesus’ ministry. What we should understand is that the political situation in Judea was unstable and even chaotic. Although the Romans maintained control through their powerful armies, there was a constant undercurrent of resentment and even rebellion among the Jewish people. All of this would boil over into an all-out war within a few decades, and the result would be Jerusalem destroyed and with it, the Jewish nation.

I think Jesus’ disciples must have been aware of what was going on. Tjhey must have sensed the tension in the air. As they were walking through the Temple, the most magnificent structure in Jerusalem in that day, I would imagine they saw the strength of the structure as a reassurance of God’s presence among them. To them it may have been a kind of promise that whatever the future may hold, God would be with them. But Jesus told them that not one of the massive stones that made up the Temple complex would be left on one another. They asked him to tell them the “signs” as a way of making the stress of an uncertain future more “manageable.” But Jesus didn’t give them any signs to reassure them.

Instead, he told them that the world in which they lived would continue to be as uncertain and as unpredictable as ever. If they wanted reassurance, they would have to look beyond the structures they had come to rely on. They would have to reclaim their hope in God. It may seem like a strange response on Jesus’ part. But I think Jesus was pointing them to something beyond what they felt they could “manage.” He pointed them beyond the safety and stability they had come to rely on in their daily lives. He reminded them that none of those things are ultimately reliable. Rather, he reminded them that God, the promises God had made, and the hope all that creates for us, are the only things we can truly rely on in this life. As Jesus told them, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away” (Lk 21:33).

That brings us back to the hope of Advent. In our worship today, we sang the verse from the hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem” that said “the hopes and fears of all the years” were “met” in that village on the night of Jesus’ birth. I think we can easily imagine the “hopes of all the years” fulfilled in Jesus’ birth, but what about the “fears”? I’m no specialist in the history of hymns, but I would think that the idea is that the birth of Jesus relieves the “fears of all the years.” The hope that Jesus brought into this world is one that helps us overcome all our fears, especially in uncertain times. It’s the hope that God’s love for us never fails, and that’s something we can rely on when everything else around us does fail. It’s the hope that God’s promises stand forever, and that God will not stop working in this world until every promise has been fulfilled. Most of us pin our hopes on some part of our lives here and now that we want to continue just as it is. But life is always changing. It is the hope we have in God through Jesus our Savior that we can rely on through all the years. That hope remains; that hope will not pass away; that hope will see us through this year, and all the years of our lives!

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

Unfailing Love

Psalm 89; Luke 1:26-38[1]

I think there’s a lot of confusion out there about love these days. We say, “I love you,” but what we really mean is “I’m lonely and I want you to comfort me.” Or “I think you’re incredibly attractive and desirable.” Or “Will you please just do what I want?” Or “I’m really excited to have such a great looking guy/girl with me; my friends are going to think I’m important.” Love is about wanting, desiring, or having. I think part of the reason for this is that we associate “love” so completely with romance. As a result, love has everything to do with feelings of infatuation or attraction or desire. That approach to love has many people spending their lives running around looking for their own personal holy grail of “love.” But when we do that, we tend to lose sight of any aspect of love as a choice, love as a gift you give to another person.

I think part of this confusion comes from the various “myths” about love that are out there. For example, there are many who live their whole lives looking for “the one.” You know, the single solitary individual out of the population of the world, which consists of enough people to fill roughly a thousand cities the size of the Chicago metro area! Another “myth” about love is “happily ever after.” It’s the fairy-tale ideal that when you find “the one” you’ll spend your lifetime in honeymoon bliss. I do think that people can live happily ever after, but it doesn’t look like “honeymoon bliss.” One of the silliest love-related myths I’ve ever heard comes from the tagline to the 1970 film “Love Story”: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” What in the world does that even mean? If you’re human, you’ll always be in a position of needing to say you’re sorry. If anything, love means you continually say you’re sorry, and you keep coming back and saying you’re sorry no matter what!

The Bible teaches us about love in many ways— through its practical teachings, through the stories of God’s love for a wayward people, and most importantly through the life of Jesus, who gave himself completely for the sake of us all. Our lesson from the Psalms for today begins with a celebration of God’s love: “Your unfailing love will last forever. Your faithfulness is as enduring as the heavens” (Ps 89:2, NLT). As we’ve seen over the past weeks, affirmations like this in the Psalms are often set in the context of the disappointments, the hardships, and the afflictions the people of Israel suffered. Their faith enabled them to confess that God’s unfailing love lasts forever specifically in those times when their circumstances could have led them to conclude that God had “forgotten” them. But the truth of who God is in the story of the people of Israel is that God never forgot them. His love for them never failed, even though their love for God failed time and time again!

The clearest demonstration of God’s love for us all in the Bible is found in Jesus: his birth, his life, and his death for us all. As you may know, there is some serious theology behind this statement. Theology that took centuries to formulate, and to some extent is still being shaped to this day. We call it the incarnation, the belief that in Jesus, God somehow came to share the fullness of our experience with life, including its joys and sorrows. Just the fact of Jesus’ birth as the Son of God demonstrates God’s love for us, because God chose to enter this world as one of us. But there’s more to it than that. Because the idea is that everything Jesus did was a reflection of who God is. And that includes dying on the cross. If the one who died on the cross is God incarnate, then that means God took into himself everything that prevents us from being the people he created us to be. That kind of love as expressed in the fundamental affirmation of our faith that God demonstrates his love for us in the birth of Jesus may be hard for us to grasp.

Our faith in Jesus as God incarnate is an important basis for understanding God’s love for us. But I doubt seriously that most of us come to the place where we truly believe that God accepts as we are through learning about theology. I think most of us learn about God’s love for us because somebody at some point in our lives showed us that kind of love. That’s where the Bible’s practical teachings about love come in. One of the clearest practical statements about love comes from the Apostle Paul: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful” (1 Cor 13:4-5). I know, we use this Scripture primarily at weddings. But Paul’s not talking about love only in the context of marriage. He’s talking about love as a way of life, love as a basic attitude toward other people, love as a commitment to following Jesus’ example.[2]

That’s easy to say, but as we know, it’s incredibly difficult to practice consistently. How do we follow Jesus’ example by loving each other the way he loved us? How do we give our lives away for the sake of the kingdom of God and for the sake of others without losing ourselves entirely? I think at least part of the answer is that we can only give ourselves away in love when our lives are grounded in God’s unfailing love. We can only practice this kind of love for others when we know that God loves us unconditionally and irrevocably, always has and always will. Even with that foundation for our love, I think we have to admit that loving others in this way doesn’t come easily for us. To be sure, we can love our families this way, but I think we also must admit that we all have to learn to love other people the way Jesus did.

If we pay attention to the way Jesus’ first disciples learned to love, I think we will discover that the way we learn to love like Jesus did is by coming together as a fellowship of people who are trying to learn how to follow Jesus’ example.[3] Whether it’s feeding the hungry, or clothing the poor, or comforting the sick and dying, or just listening to someone enough to really hear him or her, to love as Jesus did means to give of yourself without thinking about “what am I going to get out of this?” 500 years ago, the translators commissioned by King James translated the Greek word for love, agape, with the word “charity.” They were following the lead of ancient scholars who translated the Bible into Latin, and who used the word caritas. While “charity” has implications in our day that may be misleading, the basic idea is one of relating to other people with genuine, heartfelt care and compassion.

As with the other lessons of Advent, we may look at our world today and wonder where that kind of love can be found. It’s there in many ways, but the disturbing truth is that the way we humans treat one another all too often has very little to do with love. The promise of Advent is that God came into this world in the birth of Jesus to show us how much he loves us, and that he always has and always will love us in that way. If it sounds impossible that God could come into the world in the birth of Jesus, I’ll remind you what the angel said to Mary: “nothing will be impossible with God”! The fact that God would go to such lengths to show us that we are all loved, that we always have been and always will be, is the definitive demonstration of God’s unfailing love in the midst of a long and wonderful history of God showing us that God’s love for us never fails. And it’s that love that God shows us, throughout history, in the life of Jesus, and in the lives of our friends and family, that teaches us how to follow Jesus’ example of love. That unconditional and irrevocable love, that assurance that God always has and always will love us in this way sets us free to share love with others.

[2] I like Jürgen Moltmann’s definition of love in The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, 255: Love means combining “respect for the other person’s freedom” to be an individual “with deep affection for him or her as a person.”

[3] Cf. Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians, 232. He says that the actions that define love “are learned patterns of behavior that must be cultivated over time in the context of a community that models and supports such behavior.”

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

What Joy?

Isaiah 61:1-11[1]

When I was a child, the promise was made that technology would one day provide us with more “leisure time” than any other generation in history. And the idea was that we could use all that “free time” to pursue happiness. I can’t say that promise was ever fulfilled. Yes, we have faster and easier ways to do everything, from everyday chores to being “productive” at work, from communicating with one another to finding any kind of information. All those activities have been to some extent “automated” by technology. Even a task like writing a sermon. I’ve never tried it, but the latest generative artificial intelligence offers to do our research for us, and at least provide us with a draft for whatever project we’re working on. At the risk of sounding like a luddite, I really can’t say that all our technology has translated into more leisure time, or more happiness.

I think part of the problem is that no amount of technology can truly enable us to escape the reality of our experience with life. One of the fundamental truths of the human condition is, “wherever you go, there you are.” That means we carry around our own happiness or unhappiness. Technology may make it easier for us to distract ourselves by doing things that are “fun,” or simply by escaping into the vast maze of “entertainment” options that’s available to us 24/7 with nothing more than a phone and an internet connection. If we’re honest with ourselves, we’re just settling for a way to pass the time without really having to deal with whatever we’re facing. At the end of the day, when you’re looking at yourself in the mirror and it’s just you there, “wherever you go, there you are.” Whatever happiness or unhappiness you carry with you is still there.

In part, it’s been my experience that we tend to sabotage our own happiness. What we focus on stands in the way of finding true happiness in life. For example, some of us may think that our happiest days were back in the past somewhere. When our happiness is bound to the past, we find ourselves stuck in a kind of perpetual grief over what we’ve lost. That leads to what can sometimes be deep and unshakeable sadness. When we believe that our happiness is tied up with a certain (very particular) version of the future, we find ourselves plagued by fear. If we can only be happy if things turn out the way we hope, clinging to those notions only fuels our worry. In my experience, the only way to be truly happy is to choose to be content with your life just as it is, without changing anything. You choose to be satisfied with your past, present, and future. You choose to be comfortable in your skin because it’s the only one you’re going to have in which to live.

Our Scripture lessons for today speak to the issue of finding happiness through contentment. The word they use is not happiness, but “joy.” The Psalmist speaks of the return of the people of Israel from exile in Babylon in fairly optimistic terms: “When the Lord brought back his exiles to Jerusalem, it was like a dream! We were filled with laughter, and we sang for joy. And the other nations said, ‘What amazing things the Lord has done for them.’ Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for us! What joy!” (Ps 126:1-3 NLT). But instead of a song of joy, instead of being amazed enough to say “What joy!” in response to what God had done, there are plenty of indications elsewhere in the Bible that the people who returned from exile may have turned that exclamation into a question. They may have wondered what joy there was for them in their return.

As we’ve discussed, their experience after mourning in exile for decades was that they had returned to a home that was devastated, and their mourning continued. The fact that the “servant of the Lord” in Isaiah could say he was chosen by God to bring “good news to the oppressed” (Isa. 61:1) echoes indications elsewhere in the Bible that after they returned home to Judea the Jewish people struggled just to survive. That included having the safety of shelter and the ability to raise crops to feed themselves. Their lives were far from “happy.” In fact, some of them were literally stuck in prison, and the servant promised that they would be released. If we wonder about that, we may need to understand that in that day prison wasn’t a place where justice was carried out. Prison was a means of control. Kings threw their rivals into prison. Enemy captives were thrown into prison. Those who had incurred more debt than they could pay were thrown into prison. True criminals were executed swiftly, so the majority of those who were kept in prison very likely hadn’t committed anything we would consider a crime.

In that situation, the “servant” had the courage and the vision to declare boldly to all who found themselves in this seemingly hopeless situation that God was going to relieve their suffering, comfort them in their sorrow, and set right all the wrongs they had endured. It’s quite clear in Scripture that God is on the side of the poor, the oppressed, those unjustly deprived of their freedom, and in fact, all who suffer due to the heartless ways we treat our fellow human beings. And that means that God will not always stand by while his beloved children suffer and mourn in sorrow. The promise of our Scripture lesson for today is that God would enable them to rejoice with the “oil of gladness” instead of fainting under the burden of continual mourning (Isa 61:3).

When I look at our world, it seems there is precious little joy. There is some: the joy of a baby who is much loved. The joy of families getting together. The joy of faith that chooses to trust God’s unfailing love even when we don’t understand our lives. But too many people are trading “happiness” for joy. We seem all too content to find “happiness” through “fun” or entertainment. But when you step back and take a pause to really look at what’s going on, it’s almost as if every effort we make to “find” happiness only reminds us that we’re not happy. All those “fun” times fade so quickly, and it may leave us positively frantic to keep trying to find “happiness.” Call me a cynic, but I wonder if that’s because all the running around we do to find that elusive “happiness” is only a way of avoiding having to admit to ourselves that we may not be happy at all.

The promise of Scripture on this third Sunday in Advent is that God comforts those who mourn, lifts the burdens that weigh us down, and sets us free from everything that robs us of joy in this life. That doesn’t mean we can expect God to grant our every wish. The joy that’s promised to us on this third Sunday of Advent comes from the promise that God would send us a Savior who would not only proclaim the good news, but who would also enact it by relieving suffering and setting all things right in the world. If we find it challenging to see that promise fulfilled in our day and time, we can remember that the message of Christmas is that “God’s light is more real than all the darkness, that God’s truth is more powerful than all human lies, that God’s love is stronger than death.”[2] When we wonder what joy there is to be found in this world, we can remember that God isn’t yet finished with the saving work he began in the birth of Jesus. And so we celebrate with the words of the Psalmist: “Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for us! What joy!”

[2] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Here and Now: Living in the Spirit, 32

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

God's Peace

God’s Peace

Isaiah 40:1-11[1]

There was a time not so long ago when “depression” was viewed as something shameful and secret. We didn’t talk about it openly. Then it was widely reported in the news that more Americans than ever were taking anti-depressants. People believed that anti-depressants were just “feel good” pills that those who struggled with mental health issues used because they couldn’t get their act together. But the truth about anti-depressants is that they’re not pills that make you feel good automatically. There are very different types of anti-depressants designed to treat very specific medical issues. And here’s the catch: if you take an anti-depressant that doesn’t treat your specific medical issue, it’ll make you feel worse, not better. And in some cases, it’ll make you feel much worse. I’m not a medical doctor, nor am I a pharmacist. But as many of you know, I do have a life-long history of dealing with depression. I know what it’s like to try to feel just “okay” and simply not be able to do it. Fortunately, with the help of the right medication and years invested with some really good counselors, I am better now.

What medical science has only recently discovered is that the root cause for depression in very many cases is actually anxiety. I’ve mentioned that my experience with early childhood was not a happy one. In fact it was quite traumatic. So much so that I only have a few memories from early childhood. The challenge for me was that the fears from my childhood were wired into my nervous system as an adult. I struggled with chronic anxiety even after getting treatment for depression. I’m not talking about the normal nervousness we all get from time to time. I’m talking about anxiety that stalks you like a ghost when you’re awake as well as when you’re asleep. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to shake it. Fortunately, again, with the right medical help and some good counseling, I’m no longer plagued by the specter of anxiety.

I don’t mention this to draw attention to myself. I mention it because I know that there are still people who struggle with untreated depression and anxiety. And if I can encourage one person to get the help they need by talking about my story, it’s worth it. More than that, this is the second Sunday of Advent. It’s the day when we celebrate the peace that comes with the good news of Jesus’ birth. It seems to me that if we’re going to talk about peace, we should talk about the obstacles to peace. I have to confess that even though I love the message of Christmas, for most of my life this time of year hasn’t been a peaceful one at all. It’s been one in which I was troubled by pain and fear. And even the good news of Jesus’ birth and the new life promised to all of us through him didn’t help me with my depression and anxiety.

One of the lessons I learned in my journey is that I had to take some practical steps in order to find peace in my life, like using a gratitude list, as I mentioned recently. I also have a list of “all the good things” I’ve encountered in my life that I want to remember. I have as well a “cloud of witnesses,” or a list of people who’ve been my mentors and friends, people who have believed in me and supported me through times of crisis. And one of the main reasons why I exercise so regularly is because it helps me keep my head on (at least) somewhat “straight.” But I have other practical steps I take as well. For example, I’m a great fan of the “Serenity Prayer”: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In fact, I usually pray that prayer on a daily basis. It’s a constant reminder to me that there’s so much about life that I cannot control. It helps me remember that trying to control the things I cannot change only winds up making me miserable, robbing me of peace. Practical steps like these have helped me know personal peace in my life.

But of course, as we celebrate the second Sunday of Advent, we’re reminded that peace is a spiritual matter. Like many of you, I’ve drawn comfort from the Psalms for most of my life. And going along with the theme of promise I’m pursuing this year during Advent, I’ve drawn comfort from the promises of Scripture for decades. Promises like “you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you” (Ps 9:10). Or “though we stumble, we shall not fall headlong, for the Lord holds us by the hand” (Ps 37:24). Or, “the Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces” (Isa 25:8). Or, “those who wait for the Lord will renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint” (Isa 40:31). In fact, I have a list of promises in the Bible I use at home, a list I’ve had for almost 30 years. Reminding myself of those promises has been a source of peace for me for decades.

Our reading from the book of the prophet Isaiah for today speaks to us about peace. The prophet promised the people in the name of the Lord that God was coming to comfort them. But for a people who had lost everything in exile, that promise may have seemed an empty one. During their exile there were many false prophets who had gotten their hopes up. Now, when Isaiah announces in the name of the Lord that the time has finally come, it would seem they had no more faith for promises. In response to their despair, the prophet reminds them that while they may feel that they are like the grass that withers and the flowers that fade, “the word of our God will stand forever” (Isa 40:8). In this setting that statement is an assurance that God will not leave the promise that he would restore his people to their land unfulfilled. But I think it has a broader application. The idea is that God’s promises never fail. That’s because God is a God who keeps his promises.

As I’ve shared with you before, there are some wonderful promises in the book of the prophet Isaiah. In our lesson for today, the “Gospel according to the prophet Isaiah” is that God would bring the people home from exile like a shepherd who gently carries the lambs who are either too weak or who perhaps have been injured (Isa 40:11). This good news echoes through the whole book of Isaiah in various ways. The Lord promises to end violence and warfare (Isa 2:4), as well as suffering and oppression (Isa 25:8). The Lord promises to set a rich feast for all peoples (Isa 25:6), and to set right all the wrongs (Isa 28:5-6). The Lord promises to restore and heal those who are weak and injured (Isa 35:3-6). And again, in case there is any doubt about these promises, the Lord affirms, “My purpose shall stand, and I will fulfill my intention” (Isa 46:10).

This second Sunday in Advent reminds us that the promises of Scripture can help us find peace. Regardless of our circumstances, regardless of what anyone else does, we can find peace through the promises of Scripture because “the word of our God will stand forever” (Isa 40:8). We can find peace through the promises of Scripture because, as the prophet said in the name of the Lord, “my word … that goes out from my mouth … shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose” (Isa 55:11). Yes, it’s important that we do the practical things that help us stay peaceful in our hearts and minds. But more importantly, we hold on to the promises of Scripture in the assurance that God always keeps his promises. That assurance provides us with a kind of peace that St. Paul said “surpasses all understanding” (Phil 4:7). It’s God’s peace, the peace that truly lasts through all the experiences of our lives.

The Waking Dreamer