The Light Keeps Shining

The Light Keeps Shining

John 1:1-18[1]

I’m pretty sure that most of us no longer remember what it’s like to light a candle to bring light into a dark room. We use candles these days more for decoration, or the fragrance, or simply the “presence” of a light on a dark night. I’ve grown up entirely with “artificial” lighting in my home. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have artificial lighting in my home. The only time I ever used candles for lighting was when we had hurricanes or other storms that knocked out our electricity. Some of you may still use candles for that, but most of us don’t even use candles for “emergency” light anymore. Instead, we buy battery-powered lamps that are much brighter. We use candles for decoration. We use electricity for lighting, and even a relatively dim 60-watt bulb is the equivalent of 60 to 70 candles. And we typically have much brighter lighting going in our houses. We have flashlights on our phones that may overpower a single candle, and even the light from the screens we have going constantly can be brighter than a candle. I have a handheld flashlight that can be positively blinding! Some of you may as well. I’m pretty sure we don’t view a single candle as a source of light any longer.

By contrast, the whole Bible was written in a time when there was no artificial lighting. Candles and oil lamps were the sources of light. There were no street lamps, and none of the lighting they had was “instant,” like the flip of a switch or the push of a button. You had to actually “light” a candle or a lamp. And not with a device that you “clicked” on and off. Not with a match that could took from a box and could simply strike to light it. I think it’s hard for some of us to relate to a world not filled with artificial light. We’re so dependent on flipping a switch or pushing a button and having instant light. I would say that we may not be entirely comfortable with that kind of darkness—real darkness. The darkness you experience when you’re off in the wilderness. Some people can enjoy it. The light of a campfire in the wilderness, or the light of the stars and the moon on a clear night, can be mesmerizing. But for some of us that kind of darkness can feel oppressive, or depressing, or even frightening.

John’s Gospel presents the good news of Jesus Christ in terms of light shining in the darkness. Not only do I think that we have difficulty appreciating the light, we may a hard time grasping the darkness of our world. There is much that makes this a truly wonderful world, but we also live in a world full of darkness. We’re surrounded by it—violence in our schools, poverty that reduces working people to living in their cars, and racism that sparks hate crimes against people of color and of different faiths. But the darkness can be within as well. Many live in constant fear. They struggle with loneliness, depression, and even despair. They carry wounds and burdens inside them that the rest of us don’t normally see. Then there’s the darkness that exists in our world on a broader scale, from the corruption of greed to the destruction of warfare. We live in a world that can feel very dark indeed at times.

The good news of our Gospel reading for today is that Jesus came into this world as light. The light that he brings is called “life” in John’s Gospel, and it’s for everyone (Jn. 1:4). John’s Gospel wasn’t talking about “life” in terms of everyday, walking around, living-and-breathing life. The point was that Jesus came to bring a different quality of living. Rather than living in the darkness of fear or greed or hatred, Jesus came to bring a quality of living defined by God’s “grace and truth” (Jn. 1:14). God’s “truth” calls us to a life defined by love—the love Jesus demonstrated by giving his life for us all. God’s “grace” assures us that there’s nothing we can do to make God love us more and there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less. This grace and truth together offer us a quality of living that shines like a light in the darkness because when we know that God accepts us, we not only accept ourselves, but we can also accept others. That can be real light in this world for a lot of people. It can change our whole outlook on life!

The phrase in this passage that sticks in my mind is the one that says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (Jn. 1:5). There are some difficulties with this verse, including even how to translate it. Some of the older versions say, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.”[2] But I think the more pressing problem we have to deal with is that Jesus, the light of the world, was brutally executed on a Roman cross. Despite our faith that Jesus was raised from the dead and lives even now, some still today would say that the light of God’s grace and truth and love that Jesus brought into this world has been extinguished by the overwhelming power of darkness in our world. At least there are some people who feel like the darkness has “put out” that light. They have a hard time seeing the “light” in their lives. They have a hard time seeing that the “light” makes any difference for them. I think those whose lives have been “overcome” by darkness may have difficulty putting their faith in Jesus as the “light of the world.”

But you don’t have to have been totally overcome by the darkness in this world to have known its effect in your life. I would say that most of us here today have experienced some form of “darkness” in our lives. Whether it’s the greed that may deprive us of home or career, or the fear that violence in its many forms can instill, or the anger and even hatred we may feel toward others, whether it’s any kind of mistreatment we’ve experienced, most of us have known the power of darkness in this world. I don’t think the promise of the gospel here is that we will never have to suffer from the power of darkness in our world. The promise is that the darkness, however powerful it may be, does not overcome the light. I like the way the Good News Bible says it: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.”

However dark this world may feel to us, however dark our lives in this world may feel, the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that the light of God’s grace and truth and love in Jesus Christ always shines, and the darkness has never put it out. I also like the way our version for today, the Contemporary English Version, puts it: “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” The faith, hope, and love that God’s love in Jesus brought into this world live still in our hearts, no matter what we have had to endure. “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” The quality of living that Jesus brought to us through God’s love is like a candle that gives its light to all in darkness, and it’s a light that never goes out. But it’s a different kind of light than what were used to. It’s like candlelight. Candle light is soft, gentle, and reassuring. We may have to look harder for it in the midst of all the other sources of so-called “light” in our world. But the light of God’s grace and truth and love is there, a light shining in the darkness. “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out.” And that light will keep shining in our world until there is no more darkness. And the darkness will never put it out!

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[1] © 2026 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 1/4/2026 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] For example, the King James, New King James, and New American Standard versions.

Born That Man No More May Die

 Born That Man No More May Die

Hebrews 2:10-18[1]

On Christmas Eve, we talked about how the light of God’s love shines in the darkness. And, as Henri Nouwen reminded us, “a little bit of light can dispel a lot of darkness.” For many of us, there’s no darkness we fear more than death. It’s the ultimate unknown. I realize that when we are young, death may seem remote and almost unreal. Until someone your age passes away. I had that happen to me when I was in college. Or perhaps a close family member whom you loved. Then the stark reality hits you. And when it does, most of us are unprepared for the fear that grips us. In response to that fear, we in this culture seem obsessed with keeping death as far away from us as possible. In days of old, people would die at home, and the family would care for their body. Now all of that is removed from our presence. And perhaps for good reason—there seems to be no logic, no rhyme or reason to the way the “grim reaper” takes its victims. Our inability to make any sense out of death only increases our fear.

But our New Testament lesson for today presents us with the good news that, because we bear this burden of mortality, Jesus also came as one of us, made of flesh and blood. He came not only to God’s unfailing love and continual presence with us, but he also came specifically bearing our mortality so that he could die as one of us. And the purpose of his death was to “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Heb. 2:15). Though the Scripture text doesn’t spell out precisely how it is that he sets us free from the fear of death, the New Testament elsewhere reminds us that Jesus didn’t just come to die, but also to be raised from the dead, and by doing so to triumph over all the powers of darkness in this world, most importantly death. 

Part of the purpose of his coming in the vulnerability of our flesh and blood was to demonstrate that our God is not so high and exalted as to be unconcerned with or unmoved by our burdens. There have been many who have believed that throughout the ages. Some of our “founding fathers” in this country believed God was like a clockmaker who made the clock, wound it up and let it go. It’s a belief system called “Deism.” They believed that God created the world, stood back, and lets it go on its way, but doesn’t get involved. On the contrary, the “gospel of Christmas” is that, by entering our broken and confusing existence as Immanuel, “God-who-is-with-us,” Jesus took all the burdens that we bear on himself. And so he made it clear that God is not the cold and distant deity whom some people have cringed before, and at times even hated. Rather, God is the one who loves us so much that, as we say in one of our confessions of faith, Jesus died to show us God’s love as “a love that is ready to suffer for our sakes.”[2]   

That may seem like a strange thing to say about God. It was the conclusion Dietrich Bonhoeffer came to as he sat in his cell in a Nazi prison camp. He said, “God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross. He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us. … only the suffering God can help.” I think Bonhoeffer knew whereof he spoke. It would not be long before he would lose his life at the hands of the Nazis. Our lesson for today puts it this way: “Because Jesus himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested” (Heb. 2:18).

But that really is the question, isn’t it? Can a God who is vulnerable enough to enter our brokenness really be powerful enough to do something about it?  Wouldn’t it seem that a God who is able to suffer with us is a God who is just as impotent as we are in the face of our suffering and ultimately our experience of death? In fact, that has been what some have concluded: God loves us, and God suffers with us, but at the end of the day, that’s about all God can do for us. If that’s the case, I’m not sure many would conclude that a “suffering God” is “able to help” us at all. 

Others are unwilling to relegate God (and us) to such a helpless state in which our experience with death leaves us with a mystery of suffering that we cannot solve by any means. So they insist that though our experience of suffering and death may be burdensome to us now, God will ultimately bring good from it. The same confession I cited earlier says, “nothing evil is permitted to occur that God does not bend finally to the good.”[3] And there is some comfort to that. But “finally” or “ultimately” can seem like a very long time. It can seem like a very long time. So what are we to do in the meantime? How does the suffering love of our vulnerable God help us here and now?

Well, for one thing, I think we must not underestimate the power of that love that was poured out at the cross. It may look like the Jesus who dies on the cross was just as weak as any other human being. It may look like God is unable to do anything except suffer the pain of watching his son die. And yet, if we were to conclude that, we would be vastly underestimating the power of God’s love. One of my schoolmates offered a clarification of Bonhoeffer’s famous phrase by saying, “Only the suffering God can help, but it is only the suffering of the God who has greater power than we do over suffering that is able to help.”[4] And God does have greater power than we do over suffering, and so he is able to help.

Yes, love can be vulnerable. It does not retaliate, it does not lash out at those who may in fact take the life of the one who is loved or even the one who offers love. But love always breaks the power of evil. As we say in that same confession of faith, “An abyss of suffering” has been “swallowed up by the suffering of divine love.”[5] All the death, all the pain, all the fear that we can experience in this life, God has swallowed up into the suffering of his own love for us. Love always wins the day, no matter how long it takes to get to “ultimately.” And that is all the more certain with God’s love! God’s love most certainly wins the day.

But there is more to it than that. Although our lesson doesn’t mention it, surely the implication is there: Jesus did not remain in the grave. Death was not powerful enough to hold him. God raised him from the dead, and by so doing he not only vindicated the power of suffering love, but also demonstrated that God does more than “just” suffer with us when we suffer. Rather, as Henri Nouwen reminds us, the resurrection is the demonstration 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.”[6] And so in the vulnerability of Jesus taking on flesh and blood and dying for us all, and in the astonishing power of God raising him to life, we see God’s light overcoming all the darkness, even the darkness of death. And, as the Scripture says, “The light keeps shining in the dark, and darkness has never put it out” (Jn. 1:5, CEV)!

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[1] © 2025 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/28/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. The title, "Born that Man No More May Die" is taken from a verse of the Hymn/Christmas Carol "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing," by Charles Wesley.

[2] The Study Catechism (1998), question 8.

[3] The Study Catechism (1998), question 22.

[4] Steven R. Harmon, “Hebrews 2:10-18,”Interpretation 59 (Oct 2005): 406.

[5] The Study Catechism (1998) question 45.

[6] Henri Nouwen, Here and Now: Living in the Spirit, 32

Shepherds and Other "Undesirables"

 Shepherds and Other “Undesirables”

Luke 2:1-20[1]

In the middle part of the last century, a psychologist named Abraham Maslow proposed a theory of human well-being that came to be known as “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.” Unlike Sigmund Freud, Maslow wanted to study healthy people to figure out how we can thrive in this world. You may be familiar with the “pyramid.” At the bottom of Maslow’s “hierarchy” were basic needs for food, shelter, and safety. Then came more emotional needs for belonging and esteem. At the top of the pyramid was what Maslow called “self-actualization.” It’s a fancy word for what we know as “being all you can be.” He believed that the goal of our lives was to achieve our full potential.

If you’re like me, you grew up with the message that it was almost a “duty” to fulfill this potential. The words of then President-Elect Kennedy influenced many of us at that time: “For of those to whom much is given, much is required.”[2] He made that statement at the beginning of the 1960’s, which was a decade of great change and turmoil. But it was also a decade of great achievement. The president had announced that we would put a man on the moon by the end of the decade, and we did it. There seemed to be nothing we couldn’t achieve if we decided to try. All of this made the message of reaching one’s full potential a powerful motivation my generation.

Given that context in our culture, I wonder if our Gospel lesson from Luke this morning doesn’t leave us at least a bit confused. I think the story of the Magi coming to King Herod to ask about the one who was born as the “King of the Jews” makes a lot more sense to us. After all, we assume the birth of a king should be announced in palaces and royal courts. But that’s not what happens in Luke’s Gospel. There are no Magi in Luke’s Gospel. There is no announcement to the “powers that be,” although Luke names them in his story of Jesus’ birth. In Luke’s Gospel, the Angel’s announcement, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord” (Lk 2:11), is delivered not to Herod the Great, or Augustus Caesar, or even Quirinius, the Roman Governor. It was made to “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night” (Lk 2:8). Because we’ve heard the story so many times, we might not be able to hear how strange that announcement must have been.

In the first place, we should not mistake that the “angel of the Lord” was indeed announcing the birth of a king. Jesus was to be the “son of David,” and the “Messiah.” Of course, we know he didn’t fulfill that role as “Son of David” and  “Messiah” in the way most people expected. He didn’t lead an uprising to throw off the yoke of the Roman oppressors and ascend to the throne of David as the King of the Jews. He did more than that. He gave his life for the whole world, and afterwards God raised him from the dead. But finally, Jesus was exalted to the right hand of the throne of God, where he still reigns as “Lord.”

You’d think the announcement of the birth of the one who would ultimately ascend to the right hand of the throne of God would have been made to all the most powerful leaders throughout the world. But it wasn’t. Not in Luke’s Gospel, anyway. The titles “Savior” and “Lord” were reserved for God in the Hebrew Bible, and in the Mediterranean world they were applied to Caesar. You’d think the announcement of the birth of one who would hold these titles would be made to the most important religious leaders. But it wasn’t. It was made to “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

Despite our tendency to romanticize the shepherds, in that day they were peasants at the bottom of any “ladder” you could come up with. It would not be inappropriate to compare them with the “sharecroppers” of an earlier time, or the “migrant workers” of our day. They made a living, but only just. You could not say that these were people who had achieved their full potential in life. They were barely getting along by the skin of their teeth. So I would say that most people of that day would have found it incredibly strange that the birth of the “Son of David,” the “Savior” and the “Lord” would be announced to shepherds.

And yet, it’s no accident that this announcement comes to the least of the least. One of the themes in Luke’s Gospel is found in Mary’s “Magnificat”: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly” (Lk 1:52). It’s not just a coincidence that Herod “the Great,” Caesar Augustus, and the Roman Governor all show up in the introduction to this story. They were the “key players” on the world stage at that time. But no messenger was sent to them. The “angel of the Lord” made the announcement of Jesus’ birth to lowly shepherds.

Luke tells us that they responded to the message by going to see for themselves. And they found a helpless baby lying in a feed trough in poverty and apparent powerlessness. Again, the contrast between the “powerful” sitting on their thrones and the “lowly” comes to mind. Jesus was not born in a palace, in a place of privilege and comfort. And yet, despite all appearances, Mary’s son lying in the manger is the “Savior,” the “Messiah,” and the “Lord.”  It’s telling that the angel said to the shepherds, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

And it was these shepherds, the lowest of the low, the least of the least, who were able to see past appearances and recognize the truth of the angel’s announcement to them. Luke tells us not only that the shepherds “made known what had been told them about this child,” but also that they “returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen” (Lk 2:17, 20). In other words, these peasants who were likely illiterate, who were the least and the last and the left out, had the insight and the faith to believe that this helpless child lying in poverty was indeed the “Savior” and the “Messiah” and the “Lord” sent by God.

There is something more than a little ironic about all of this. But I think there is a point to it: that God’s salvation is not a “reward” for those who have achieved the heights of personal fulfillment. Rather, salvation is for everyone. Part of the irony is, as St. Paul says, the message about Jesus was offensive to those looking for someone to check off all the right religious “boxes” and it was foolish to those who prized learning and power (1 Cor 1:25). But that’s because “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor 1:27). That’s why, right from the beginning, the “angel of the Lord” made the announcement of Jesus’ birth to shepherds in the field. One of the themes of the Bible is that you have to be humble enough to recognize your need for a Savior in order to be able to put your faith in him. I would say that for those of us who can get rather caught up in “being all that we can be” it means that we may need to set all that aside in order to open our hearts enough to recognize Jesus as our Savior and Lord.

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[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/25/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/U9yeNlsjXSQ

[2] John F. Kennedy, “Address to a Joint Convention of the General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” January 9, 1961. Accessed at https://www.jfklibrary.org/archives/other-resources/john-f-kennedy-speeches/massachusetts-general-court-19610109 on 12/22/2022.

To You is Born a Savior

 To You is Born a Savior

Luke 2:1-20[1]

I saw a sign several days ago that said to “keep Christ in Christmas.” It’s a slogan that’s been around for a long time. It originated as a protest against the phrase “Merry Xmas.” So “keeping Christ in Christmas” meant spelling out the whole word, Christmas. But I really don’t know what it means more than that. It’s one of those slogans that’s been so overused I’m not sure it means anything anymore. Some of us might think it’s obvious what “keeping Christ in Christmas” means. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus the Christ, or the Messiah. So, keeping “Christ” in Christmas means making the celebration of Jesus’ birth the focus of Christmas. But I’m not sure a worn-out slogan can tell us much about how we’re supposed to do that.

In our lesson from the Gospel of Luke we heard the angel’s announcement to the shepherds, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” That helps us, because it tells us that Jesus was born as the “Messiah” or the “Christ” and that means he’s the Savior. Those of us who are connected with a church have at least an understanding that we need a Savior, and we celebrate Jesus’ birth because he came to be our Savior. And the angel said this message was meant to be “good news of great joy for all the people” (Lk 2:10-11). But there are a lot of folks these days who don’t see that they have any need for a “Savior.” In fact, the very language of looking for someone to “save” us or “rescue” us, is considered to be unhealthy in relationships. And rightly so. It’s a mark of health to recognize that we’re all responsible for our emotional well-being.

But while it’s good to be self-responsible, you can take a good thing too far. When we turn it into the attitude that it’s up to me whether I thrive in this world, it can lead us to think we can dispense with “God” or any thoughts of a “Savior.” When we do that, we may believe we can live our lives, make our choices, and engage in our own pursuits without giving God or Jesus Christ a second thought. But living that way is an illusion. It really amounts to an effort to avoid facing hard truths. We may succeed for the time being at avoiding what we don’t want to deal with but living our lives without any reference to God will leave us facing a deep emptiness.

I don’t believe the point of our lesson from the Gospel of Luke is to “keep Christ in Christmas.” I think it goes far beyond that. Celebrating the birth of Jesus as our Savior means “keeping” Christ as the focus for all of life. We “keep” Christ in our lives when we recognize that the only way to truly thrive is through the hope and peace and joy and love that Jesus brings us. We “keep” Christ in our lives when we recognize that we do not live our lives to ourselves alone, or solely by our own efforts. Rather we live in a world that overflows with God’s loving presence. That’s why we celebrate the birth of Jesus as our Savior. He came to fulfill the promise of “Immanuel,” or “God-who-is-with-us.” He’s our Savior because he brought us the assurance that we are never alone in this world. No matter who we are, no matter what we’ve done, because of Jesus—his birth, his life, his death, his resurrection, and his continuing presence in our lives—we are never alone, but rather we are constantly surrounded and embraced by the love of God. That’s what it means to celebrate the birth of Jesus as our Savior on this night!

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[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A Christmas meditation delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/24/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/5cHGVLyZwmo

Where Wisdom Begins

Where Wisdom Begins

Luke 2:29-52[1]

Wisdom is something that we can recognize when we see it, but how to find it is another thing altogether. For centuries, the human family has wondered where wisdom is to be found. The ancient Greek Philosopher Socrates said we find wisdom by knowing ourselves well. William Shakespeare, in the play “Hamlet,” said that wisdom was about being true to ourselves. Eastern religion tells us that wisdom comes from accepting change as a normal part of life. And Martin Luther King, Jr. said wisdom was found in posing and answer the question “What are you doing for others?”

But, of course, these days I’m not so sure that “wisdom” is actually what we’re concerned about. Our technology has focused us more on “information.” Most of us have a device with us right now that can provide us instant access to all kinds of information. As helpful as that is, I wouldn’t say all the information literally at our fingertips has made us any wiser. In fact, with all the “alternative facts” out there, I would say we struggle with simple good judgment!

The Bible says that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov 9:10). That’s probably not your favorite Scripture verse. It brings up images of an angry God who is demanding and swift to punish. But the “fear of the Lord” in the Bible is not about being afraid of God. It’s about an attitude of respect for God. The “fear of the Lord” is about honoring God with your heart and your life. That’s where wisdom begins.

Our gospel lesson for today tells us a unique story. It’s about a trip to Jerusalem that Joseph, Mary, and Jesus made when he was just a child. They went there to celebrate the Passover feast together. When the feast was over and it was time to go home, Mary and Joseph joined the group of family and friends they were travelling with and set out. But the Scripture tells us that Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem! And it’s apparent that Joseph and Mary didn’t know what he’d done, because they spent a day on the road. When evening came, and they looked for Jesus, he was nowhere to be found!

Naturally, they went back to Jerusalem. The story tells us that they searched for three days without finding him! I can only imagine what they must have gone through as they searched the city for their boy. Luke tells us that on the third day they found Jesus in the Temple “sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions” (Lk 2:46). The “teachers” would have been rabbis and scribes, the Jewish religious leaders. I think we’re meant to understand that Jesus was not “sitting among” them as a student, but rather discussing matters of faith as an equal. The reason for this is Luke says that “all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers” (Lk 2:47).

While I’m sure there must have been some degree of parental pride at seeing her son dialoguing with the Jewish leaders, Mary clearly wasn’t pleased with Jesus. When they found him, she said to him, “why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety” (Lk 2:48). The fact that Jesus had stayed behind in Jerusalem was clearly not what Mary expected of her son. Some have even raised the question whether the boy Jesus broke the commandment to “honor your father and mother.”

But his reply to his mother shows us that Jesus didn’t stay in Jerusalem at the temple out of disrespect to Joseph and Mary. He did so because of his growing devotion to his “Father,” God. That’s what he said to her: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (Lk 2:49). That last phrase is a difficult one. I would translate it differently: “I must be about my Father’s work.” Already as a child, Jesus was aware that God had a special purpose for his life, and he responded to that calling by devoting himself to “his Father’s work.”

This may seem beyond belief for a twelve-year-old boy. But the main point of this passage is that Jesus was filled with extraordinary “wisdom” because God’s “favor” was with him. In fact, that theme serves as “bookends” for this story. Luke tells us that from a very early age, Jesus was “filled with wisdom” (Lk 2:39). And at the conclusion, he tells us that “Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor” (Lk 2:52).

I’m sure one of the questions that must have been running through the minds of everyone who witnessed this event was where this young boy got such extraordinary wisdom. I would say the answer was right in front of them: “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”! Even as a child, Jesus had a growing sense that God had called him to do something special, and he honored that calling by devoting himself to God.

Perhaps that can give us some guidance in our day. As we try to process all the information, all the “alternative facts,” all the “fake news” that gets thrown at us, one way to sort it out is to begin with wisdom. One of the best paths to wisdom is to ask ourselves some tough questions. “What would Jesus do?” is more than a slogan, it’s a way to guide us to wisdom. Asking whether what we believe or do is consistent with loving God and loving others is another. Perhaps it would be helpful for us to use a form of that question from Dr. King: “am I doing this for myself or for others?” Wisdom is practical like that. And we would do well to remember that wisdom begins with honoring God.

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[1] ©2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 12/26/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

A Light In Dark Places

 A Light in Dark Places

John 1:5[1]

The point of our service this evening is to remind us of the light that shines in the darkness. We need to be reminded of that because there’s plenty of darkness these days. The simple fact that this is the week of the longest nights in the year can make it hard for some of us. But there are other kinds of darkness we have to face as well. I think that’s one of the reasons why we go out of our way to make this time of year “festive.” It’s a way to bring some light into the darkness. But after the treats have been eaten and the packages opened and the decorations put away, we still have to face the darkness.

Some of us face the darkness of grief. The “holidays” can be the “worst possible time of the year” for those of us who have lost loved ones. For us, all the “celebrating” only reminds of those who are absent.

Some of us face the darkness of fear. So much about our world has changed, and it’s not going back to the way it was. At some point we all realize that everything we hold dear can be snatched away from us in the blink of an eye. Some of us don’t even know we’re afraid because we convert our fear to anger. But that’s a darkness just as deep.

Some of us face the darkness of doubt. Our lives are littered with broken promises, and it’s easy to decide that everything and everyone is corrupt. Instead of taking the chance of getting involved in the messiness of life, we put up walls to protect ourselves from being hurt.

Some of us face the worst kind of darkness: the darkness of despair. When we convince ourselves that we are beyond all hope, it can feel like we’ve fallen into an abyss where all love, all joy, all hope, all sense of meaning and purpose in life is gone.

After the Christmas “festivities” end, we still need a way to find the light that shines in the darkness. The Bible tells us God has promised to be God-who-is-with-us, and God-who-is-for-us. We celebrate this night because the baby born in the manger fulfilled the promise to be God-who-is-with-us. But more than that, when that baby grew up to be a man, he died on a cross, and fulfilled the promise to be God-who-is-for-us.

The manger and the cross are two very real reminders of the heart of our faith: the hope that “there is light on the other side of darkness.”[2] We can lose sight of that hope when we’re stuck. Sometimes we get stuck so deeply that not even the manger and the cross can relieve the darkness. We need something that can help us now. We may need to get out and take a walk—without looking at a phone! We may need to work in the yard. We may need to clean house or bake some cookies. We may need to listen to music that makes us want to dance—turned up loud! Sometimes, none of that helps, and all we can do is remember that if we let it go, the darkness will pass. The grief, the fear, the doubt, the despair will lift. And the sun will come up tomorrow.

As the Gospel of John declares: “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out” (Jn 1:5, GNT). The manger reminds us that that there is light on the other side of darkness. The cross reminds us that the light shines in the darkness. More than that, when Jesus rose from the dead on that first Easter morning, he defeated death.  Just as surely as Jesus was born in the manger, just as surely as he died on the cross, just as surely as he rose from the grave, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.” When the light dawns, the darkness must go.

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[1] ©2021 Alan Brehm. A Christmas eve meditation delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm on 12/24/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer, 76.

Grace Upon Grace

Grace Upon Grace

John 1:1-18[1]

It’s not hard to understand the sentiment that putting 2020 behind us is “good riddance.” It has been a hard year for all of us. We who enjoy being around people have struggled with the isolation. For some of us, 2020 has been positively brutal. The longer the pandemic goes, the more likely we are to know someone who has had the virus. Even worse, the longer it goes, the more likely we are to know someone who has died from the virus. For many reasons, we have experienced the losses of this year more deeply than perhaps ever before.

When we go through hard times like this, we can respond in a variety of ways. I’m concerned that some of us are hoping that changing the calendar will somehow make it possible for us to “go back” to the way things were before the pandemic. And while I look forward to the day when we can gather freely again, based on my experience I would say that “going back” is never really an option in life. In truth, who really wants to “go back” to major cities clogged with traffic and smothered in smog? Who really wants to “go back” to a way of life that can fairly accurately be described as a “rat race”?

Our Gospel lesson for today is about another major change in human experience: the “Word” who was with God in the beginning and who is God became “flesh.” And he did so in order to reveal the truth of God’s amazing grace and unfailing love to us all. That’s a hard concept to wrap our heads around. How can God really become human? I can’t explain it, and I don’t know that anyone ever has or ever will. But I believe it. Not because of philosophical reasons or a biological miracle. I believe it because at the heart of our Gospel lesson is the message that the God whose very nature is love entered our world in the person of Jesus in order to share that love with us all.[2]

If there’s one word in the New Testament that summarizes the gift that God has given to us in his son our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, it’s grace. And so it comes as no surprise to us when our Gospel lesson says that the first Christians saw in Jesus “the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth” (Jn. 1:14). More than that we are told, “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (Jn. 1:16).  

Because we’ve heard words like this from the Bible so many times, it’s easy for us to overlook the fact that John’s Gospel goes “over the top” to describe the gift we have received in Jesus the Christ. I’m afraid that phrase “grace upon grace” gets lost in our hearing. In fact, our translations have a hard time putting it in words. Some of them, like the NIV and the NLT, render it with “one blessing after another.” I prefer Gene Peterson’s translation in The Message: “We all live off his generous bounty, gift after gift after gift.” In this first chapter of John’s Gospel, the meaning is clear: Jesus comes to us as the one who brings God’s grace. And he brings so much of it that all you can call it is “grace piled on top of grace.”[3]  

John’s Gospel uses other words like light and truth and life to describe the gifts Jesus brought to us. But there’s one very important aspect of this gift that is clear in John’s Gospel. The divine Word became human in the person of Jesus in order to make God known to us (John 1:18). The NT doesn’t offer a lot in the way of explanation about what “incarnation” is or how it took place. But it does have some definitive things to say about what it means for us. And one of the central affirmations of the NT is that the loving and grace-filled God whom Jesus reveals to us truly is God.[4]

If you’ve been joining us in reading through the Bible this year, you may have some question about that. The image of God in the book of Numbers is a very different one—if “common” Israelites got “too close” to God they would be struck dead. The image of God in Deuteronomy is equally troubling—anyone who sins must be executed in order to prevent an angry God from destroying the people. I struggle to make sense out of those ideas. About the best I can come up with is that they must have had something to do with how people understood God in a very different time and place.

But that is definitively not the God whom Jesus came to “explain” to us (John 1:18, NASB). Jesus shows us the God who showers us all with “gift after gift after gift,” with “grace piled on top of grace.” That may be hard for us to see in our actual lives this year. It may be even harder for us to grasp that everything we’ve been through has been accompanied by God’s grace. If we look at it from that perspective, I think the truth of our experience this year is not one of trying to “go back,” but rather one of moving forward into the new life that God is creating for us all. It may be hard to accept 2020 as a “gift” from God, but if we can look at it through the lens of “grace upon grace,” perhaps we can see it as an opportunity to grow and learn to live in better ways than ever before.

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[1] © 2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 1/3/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom, 114, where he describes the incarnation as an expression of the “eternally self-communicating love of God.” Cf. also ibid., pp. 120-22.

[3] Cf. Christine D. Pohl, “Homeward Bound,” The Christian Century (Dec. 27, 2005): 19. Cf. also Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.1:236, who speaks of it as “inexhaustible, victorious grace which can be followed only by more grace.”

[4] Cf. Gail R. O’Day “The Gospel of John” New Interpreters Bible IX:524, “John 1:14-18 is not theological speculation about the character of the incarnate Word, but the testimony of those whose lives have been changed by the incarnation.”

From This Time Forth

From This Time Forth

Isaiah 9:2-7[1]

When life seems to be stuck in a rut, it can be hard to adjust our perspective. We get so focused on the “rut” that we can’t see much beyond that. If things keep going on the same day after day, all we can see is more of the same. After a while, it can get to you. After a long time, we can lose hope and wonder what the point of it all is! That’s a challenge even in the best of times—we seem to be so wired to see what’s wrong that we can miss what’s right. In these times, when we’ve been facing a pandemic, an economic crisis, and political and social turmoil, it might seem impossible to find any “good news” with which to lighten the burden.

The people about whom our lesson from Isaiah speaks are said to be living in darkness. That wasn’t necessarily the case for the people of Isaiah’s day. But he seemed to know that they would face hard times in the future. Specifically, they would be conquered by a foreign power. Not only would they experience the violence of war, they would also know firsthand the injustice of oppression. We know from history that after their defeat, they worked to provide for their families only to see a substantial portion of it going to the despots who were masters of their land. It’s very likely they saw themselves stuck in that situation with no way out. Many of them may have assumed that this was simply going to be their lot in life.

Into the midst of that dire situation, Isaiah announced the coming of light into their darkness, the coming of joy into their despair. He promised in the name of the Lord that the “yoke” of their oppressors would be broken. Even more, he promised that the violence of war would be no more, for all the implements of warfare would be destroyed, and even the uniforms of soldiers would be burned. Isaiah promised that a child would be born who would bring true peace and justice to them. And the promise was that this peace and justice would define their lives “from this time forth and forevermore.”

 Isaiah calls the one who would come to bring this light, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa. 9:6). Given our perspective, and our traditions of worship at Christmas, we naturally assume that Isaiah was predicting the coming of Jesus here. But to make that assumption would mean that his message didn’t really apply to the people living 700 years before Jesus was born. If we read our lesson in its historical context, it seems clear that it’s talking about the birth of a king who would lead the nation of Judah to freedom by establishing peace and justice. Given the setting, it’s likely that in the first place Isaiah was talking about the birth of Hezekiah, who was known as the best of the kings of Judah.

But even the best of kings are still only human. Although Hezekiah’s reign was a bright light in comparison with his ancestors, the sober truth is that the lofty promises God made to his people through the prophet were not fully realized in that day. The fact that even the best of the kings of Judah fell short gave rise to the hope that one day a king would come who would truly and finally fulfill the hope for justice that would enable all people to thrive together and that would bring lasting peace.

That was what made it possible that Matthew could (and I would say should) present Jesus as the ultimate fulfillment of the promised one who would come to set things right “from this time forth and forevermore.” As the words of the Hymn “O Holy Night” remind us, “His law is love and His Gospel is Peace; Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother; And in His name, all oppression shall cease.” We celebrate his birth because it marks a major turning point in God’s work of fulfilling his promise.

If we’re honest with ourselves, however, our world is still plague by warfare, violence, injustice, and oppression. People in our own community experience these burdens in their daily lives. What are we to make of a promise that hasn’t yet reached complete fulfillment, even after so many years? Some turn cynical, and view lofty promises like these as “wishful thinking.” Some turn to despair, and simply go deeper into the darkness. Some simply try to fill their lives with all that this life has to offer in the effort to ignore the emptiness in their souls.

But there is another way to look at this. While it is true that the promises God made so long ago through the prophet Isaiah have not yet been completely fulfilled, I think we can say that what we see in the birth of Jesus is the dawning of the light. In him we have the hope that God is not yet finished with his work of salvation. Through Jesus we can trust that God will be faithful to keep the promises he has made—if not in our time, on the final day. As Isaiah said so powerfully, “the zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this” (Isa. 9:7, NIV)!

In Jesus, we have the promise that one day God’s name will be hallowed on earth as it is in heaven and God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven and God’s purpose will be done on earth as it is in heaven! And that means a day when all oppression is undone and all violence is banished and all injustice is removed. What remains is the peace and the joy of life as God intended it. The fact that we already see this light shining in the darkness sustains our hope that God will fulfill every promise in due time. But it also points us to the good news that God’s peace is already here for us “from this time forth and forevermore.”

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 12/24/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Light Drives Out Darkness

Light Drives Out Darkness

John 1:1-18[1]

I’m pretty sure that most of us have lost the ability to appreciate the power of a single candle to bring light into a dark room. We don’t use candles for light anymore. We use them for decoration, or for the fragrance they give. We use electricity for lighting, and even a relatively dim 60-watt bulb is the equivalent of 70 candles. And we typically have much more brighter light going in most rooms of our houses. We have flashlights on our phones that easily overpower a single candle, and there are some spotlights that can be positively blinding! We don’t even use candles for emergencies; instead we buy battery-powered lamps. I’m pretty sure we don’t view a candle as a source of light any longer.

By contrast, all of the Bible was written in a time when there was no artificial lighting. Candles and oil lamps were the only sources of light in the darkness. I think it’s hard for some of us to relate to a world not filled with artificial light. We’re so dependent on flipping a switch and having instant light. I would say that many of us aren’t really comfortable with darkness. It feels oppressive, or depressing, or even frightening. But if you were to turn off all the light bulbs and try sitting in a room lit only with candlelight, you might be surprised at the effect.^[2] 

John’s Gospel presents the good news of Jesus Christ in terms of light shining in the darkness. Not only do I think that we have difficult appreciating the light, I think that many of us have a hard time grasping the darkness of our world. But make no mistake about it: we live in a world full of darkness. We’re surrounded by it—violence in our schools, poverty that reduces working people to living in their cars, and racism that sparks hate crimes against people of color and of different faiths. But the darkness is within as well. Many in this community live in constant fear. They struggle with loneliness, depression, and even despair. Then there’s the darkness that exists in our world on a broader scale, from the corruption of greed to the destruction of warfare. We live in a dark world.

The good news of our Gospel reading for today is that Jesus came into this world as light. The light that he brings is called “life,” and it’s for all people (Jn. 1:4). John’s Gospel wasn’t talking about “life” in terms of everyday, walking around, living-and-breathing life. The point was that Jesus came to bring a different quality of living. Rather than living in the darkness of fear and greed and hatred, Jesus came to bring a quality of living defined by God’s grace and truth (Jn. 1:14). God’s truth calls us to a life defined by love—the love Jesus demonstrated by giving his life for us all. God’s grace assures us that there’s nothing we can do to make God love us more and there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less. This grace and truth offers us a quality of living that shines like a light in the darkness.

The phrase in this passage that sticks in my mind is the one that says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (Jn. 1:5). There are some difficulties with this verse, including even how to translate it.^[3] But I think the more pressing problem we have to deal with is that Jesus, the light of the world, was brutally executed on a Roman cross. Despite the faith that Jesus was raised from the dead and lives even now, some still today would say that the light of God’s grace and truth and love that Jesus brought into this world has been extinguished by the overwhelming power of darkness in our world. I think those whose lives have been “overcome” by darkness may have difficulty putting their faith in Jesus as the “light of the world.”

But you don’t have to have been totally overcome by the darkness in this world to have known its effect in your life. I would say that most of us here today have experienced some form of darkness in our lives. Whether it’s the greed that deprives us of home or career, or the fear that violence in its many forms can instill, or the anger and even hatred we may feel toward those whom we see as a threat, we have known the power of darkness. I don’t think the promise of the gospel here is that we will never have to suffer from the power of darkness in our world. It is that the darkness, however powerful it may be, does not overcome the light. I like the way the Good News Bible says it: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out.”

However dark our lives in this world may get, the light of God’s grace and truth and love in Jesus Christ always shines, and the darkness has never put it out. The faith, hope, and love that God’s love in Jesus brought into this world live on in our hearts, no matter what we have to endure. And the darkness has never put it out. The quality of living that Jesus brought to us through God’s love is like a candle that gives its light to all in darkness, and never stops shining. It’s a different kind of light than what were used to. Candle light is soft, gentle, and reassuring. We may have to look harder for it in the midst of all the other sources of so-called “light” in our world. But the light of God’s grace and truth and love is there, a light shining in the darkness. And that light will continue to drive out the darkness in our world until there is no more darkness. And the darkness will never put it out.

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 1/5/2020 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2]I got the idea from Linda Geddes, “What I Learned by Living without Artificial Light,” BBC Future, April 25, 2018. Accessed at https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180424-what-i-learnt-by-living-without-artificial-light.

[3] Some versions, like the King James, New King James, and New American Standard, translate the verse, “the darkness did not comprehend it.”

New Clothes

New Clothes

Colossians 3:12-17[1]

For those of you who may keep up with the latest styles, it’s pretty obvious that I’m no fashion guru. I do try to look my best, mind you, especially in professional situations. But I’m aware that my wardrobe wouldn’t make the cover of GQ magazine. I wear clothes that are functional more than trendy. Some of my clothes are 15 years old, which means they are long out of style. And I tend to go with a certain look and stay with it. It makes it easier that way. I don’t have to make too many decisions about what to wear. I like to keep things simple and functional when it comes to my wardrobe.

But then some of you may have also noticed that I’ve made a wardrobe change recently. This Fall, I’ve started wearing bow ties on special occasions. Now, I know that bow ties are the trademark of the Presbyterian pastor down the road. I must say I sort of fell into this trend by accident. My son and his fiancée are getting married this week, and the theme of their ceremony is art deco. So all the men in the wedding party are wearing bow ties—the real thing, not pre-tied clip-on’s. So I figured I’d buy a couple of bow ties and learn how to tie them before I get to the wedding. Well, I have to say, I had so much fun with it, that I decided to incorporate it into my wardrobe. I don’t know that it makes me look any more trendy or stylish, but I like my “new look.”

As I mentioned on Christmas Eve, this year’s Gospel readings during advent are all about the changes that Jesus’ birth brought to our lives. They change the very ground on which we build our lives. Jesus made it clear that what he had come to do was to make it possible for “the last to be first,” which also means that the “first shall be last.” It turns everything upside down. Or, maybe, as one contemporary prophet puts it, the world is flying upside down and Jesus comes along to turn things right-side-up.[2]

One of the metaphors for this kind of radical change of life in the New Testament has to do with clothes. St. Paul is particularly fond of talking about “taking off” behaviors that diminish and harm ourselves and others and “putting on” the qualities that defined Jesus’ life.[3] And so in our lesson for today, he calls us to change our wardrobe, so to speak. Paul goes through the closet of our lives and pulls out what is no longer beneficial, and sets us to the task of filling our wardrobe with a whole different set of clothes.

In particular, he calls us to “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience” (Col. 3:12).[4] That in and of itself is a tall order, if you really think about what it means to make those qualities the defining marks of your life. To some extent, I think he summarizes all of the qualities that he wants to see in our lives when he tells us to “clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony” (Col. 3:14).[5] In fact, he tells us to do this “above all.” That shouldn’t come as a surprise to us, since the whole Bible teaches us that what God wants from us is to love our brothers and sisters—all our brothers and sisters.

Now, we’re familiar with the fact that the Bible presents this kind of challenge to us—we are to leave behind the ways that belong to life apart from Christ, and we’re to put on our “new clothes” instead. But I’m not sure we get the motivation for all that. It’s not just that you’re supposed to be a good and kind and nice person. There’s much more behind it. One aspect is that since Christ died for us, we’re also called to die to all that characterizes a life that is motivated by selfish desires and is essentially harmful to others (Col. 3:5-9).

But there’s more: because Christ has been raised to new life, we too have a new life within us.[6] And the Scriptures call upon us to let the qualities of that new life be our new wardrobe. Because we have been “raised with Christ” (Col. 3:1), and “Christ is our life” (3:4), we are to let the life of the risen Christ shine through our character and actions. St. Paul depicts this in terms of a “renewal” that God has brought into our lives. But it goes beyond that—this renewal that is underway is changing everything for everyone, whether they know it or not. It is a transformation that means that “Christ is all in all” (Col. 3:11). That might not say it clearly enough: I like Gene Peterson’s translation of this phrase in The Message: “From now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ.” Since we are all caught up in God’s work of making all things new through Jesus Christ, we are to let that newness shine in us and through us.

In a very real sense, I would say that our Scripture lesson for today is a call for us all to take a close look at the wardrobe that defines the way we live our lives. All that is selfish and harmful to others, all that diminishes us and others, has become like clothing that is out of date. And just as we sometimes have to go through our closets and clean out clothing that we no longer wear, so we’re to take all those ways of being and acting that are no longer useful or beneficial, and clear them out of the closet of our lives. And in the place of those old behaviors and actions we’re to fill our closet with a whole new set of clothes: compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. In a word, whatever constitutes authentic, sincere, and truly loving ways of being and acting. After all, that’s the kind of life that Jesus embodied. What St. Paul is really asking us to do is to clothe ourselves with Jesus.[7] His way of life, his love, his character, and all that goes with it, are to be the “new clothes” in our wardrobe.

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[1] ©2015. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 12/27/2015 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman NE.

[2] Cf. Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 88-89. He defines “flying upside-down” by saying (p. 10), “What is truly profound is thought to be stupid and trivial, or worse, boring, while what is actually stupid and trivial is thought to be profound.”

[3] Many scholars speak of this as the tension in Paul’s letters between the “indicative,” or the newness that becomes real in a person’s life when they are transformed by Christ, and the “imperative,” or the practical realization that this transformation does not take place overnight, but must be intentionally cultivated. Cf. Andrew T. Lincoln, “The Letter To The Colossians,” New Interpreters Bible XI:647: “although they have already put on the new person, they still need to clothe themselves with specific virtues.”  Cf. also P. T. O’Brien, Colossians, Philemon, 213.

[4] Cf. E. Lohse, Colossians and Philemon: A commentary on the Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, 147: “All of the five terms that describe the new man’s conduct are used in other passages to designate acts of God or of Christ.” (compassion: Rom 12:1; 2 Cor 1:3; kindness: Rom 2:4; 11:22; Eph 2:7; Tit 3:4; humility: Phil 2:8; 2 Cor 10:1; patience: Rom 2:4; 9:22).

[5] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.2:784: “love is the sum of all the mercy, goodness, humility, long-suffering and mutual forbearance and forgiveness that those who are chosen and sanctified and loved by God are to ‘put on’ as a garment which is prepared for them and suits them.”

[6] Cf. Michael Barram, “Colossians 3:1-17,” Interpretation, 59 (April 2005): 190, where he says that “the living Christ provides the basis for all Christian conduct”; and further, these behaviors become “the norm for believers because Christ is alive and reigning with God.”

[7] Of course, this is a process. The church is always made up of people who are simul justus et peccator (“at the same time both justified and a sinner”). Or as Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 353, says it, “God sanctifies his church by calling the godless through Christ, by justifying sinners, and by accepting the lost. The communion or community of the saints—or the holy or sanctified—is therefore always at the same time the community of sinners; and the sanctified church is always at the same time the sinful church. Through its continual prayer ‘forgive us our trespasses,’ it recognizes itself as being in sin and at the same time as being holy in the divine forgiveness of sins. … In the confession of sin and faith in justification the church is simultaneously communio peccatorum and communio sanctorum.”

Tender Mercy

Tender Mercy

Luke 1:46-55, 68-79[1]

If you’ve been listening to this year’s Gospel readings during Advent, you know already that the way Luke presents the birth of Jesus has an “edge” to it.  Zechariah’s sings at the birth of his son, John the Baptist, that will he prepare a people for the Lord to come.  His “preparation” for them would be to lead them into the “way of peace” (Lk. 1:79).  That may not sound “edgy,” but if you read on, you find that he was to do that by calling the people to repentance. And in his ministry, John would call the people to real, heartfelt, life-changing repentance.[2] Repentance that resulted in “bearing fruit worthy of repentance” (Lk. 3:8).[3] And he made it specific: those who had more than enough were to share with those who didn’t have enough, and those who had power were not to abuse it. That seems pretty challenging to me.

Mary’s song of praise has even more of an “edge” to it: we hear that one of the ways God’s work of restoration would come about is through the “Great Reversal”: the proud humbled, the powerful pulled down from their thrones, those who are stuffed go away empty-handed, while those who are disempowered are lifted up and those who are hungry are filled with good things (Luke 1:51-53).[4] Mary describes the overturning of the current system of destruction and oppression and violence by the ways of God’s kingdom: mercy, justice, and love.

There’s just no way to avoid the fact that there is a barb in the good news that God is working to restore the human family.[5]  That barb is this—those among us who flourish on the backs of others, those who wield power through violence of any kind will be overthrown and overturned.  It’s a message that may seem inappropriate for a Christmas Eve sermon. After all, this is a time when we’re supposed to feel good about ourselves. We come to Christmas Eve expecting to hear good news, not to be challenged.

But the truth of the matter is that we can’t have the one without the other. The Good News of the birth of Jesus is challenging. It confronts us and all of the ways we live that are contrary to God’s grace and mercy and love. And this contradiction begins with the fact that the one who is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Savior who will bring new life to the whole world, was not born in an ornate palace, but very likely in a cave that was used as a pen for livestock! Those of you who’ve been around livestock know what kind of place we’re talking about—not the sanitized version of the nativity we usually see! I think the reason for this is that in the birth of Jesus, God made it clear that he was doing something that was very different from the way our world works. And that’s the challenge we face—if we want to be a part of it, we have to be willing to change our ways to match up with God’s ways.

And yet, even here there is good news—the restoration that God promises is one in which some of us may suffer loss, but in the end we will all gain immeasurably more.  The future Mary and Zechariah looked forward to is a vision of the restoration of the whole human family.  Mary saw in the birth of her son the beginning of God’s saving plan that makes it possible to experience the joy and the vibrancy that God intends for us all.

What that means for those of us who are “full” and “rich” here and now is that the only way for us to sing Mary’s song with the same kind of joy—the joy of the “lowly” being lifted up—is if we actually work at lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry, and restoring those who are disenfranchised.[6] That was what Jesus came to do: God’s work of making all things new, of setting right the wrongs and lifting the burdens we all carry.  That’s why we celebrate Christmas.  It is a time for us to focus our attention on God’s work of healing this broken world.  It is a time of looking for the salvation that God has promised, and a time of singing for joy over what God is already doing among us.  And it is a time for us to join that work.

The Good News of Christmas is that we can look forward to something better than the violence and suffering and injustice all around us.  We can look forward to the kindness and generosity and compassion of our God being fulfilled for all the peoples of the world.  We have this hope because of the good news that in Jesus the Christ God has entered this world definitively to set everything right and to make all things new. It is this Good News, and the hope, peace, joy, and love it brings to us, that enables us to look past our fears and our hurts and our suspicions and view those around us with God’s compassionate love.[7] This joyful faith is what gives us energy to join in God’s work of transforming all creation by making a difference in our corner of the world.[8]

Jesus’ birth and life and death and resurrection constitute a challenge to the way we live our lives. We can no longer simply go about our lives wrapped up in our own concerns, ignoring the needs and suffering and hopes of those around us. We can no longer simply love those who love us back. We are called to give our lives away just as he did by loving others, all those we may consider other. But in the midst of that challenge that will very likely take all the faith, hope, and love we can muster, we can also remember that the birth of Jesus is Good News for us all. Because of that Good News we look forward to redemption, salvation, and forgiveness.  We can experience right now, in the midst of the difficulties of life, “the dawn from on high” through the “tender mercy of our God” that will bring the hope, peace, joy, and love God promises to us all (Lk. 1:78-79).[9]

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[1] © 2015 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Alan Brehm on 12/24/2015 at Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 3.2:461: “Μετάνοια [repentance] means a complete re-orientation, both inward and outward, of the whole man to the God who in a very real sense has turned to him in time. Πίστις [faith] means the unquestioning trust in this God which is the positive side of this re-orientation; the new life which is the only possible life after this event in the time which follows it.”

[3] Cf. R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters Bible IX:87: “To say that we can never be worthy of God’s grace is to miss the point of John’s challenge. John calls instead for a change of life-style that reflects the genuineness of our repentance. Just as false love is not love at all, so also repentance that is not sincere is not repentance. There is an integrity to the repentant. … Their way of life, their priorities, commitments, personal relationships, passion for peace and justice, and their unplanned acts of compassion all give evidence of their compassion.”

[4] Cf. Ruth Ann Foster, “Mary’s Hymn of Praise in Luke 1:46-55,” Review and Expositor 100 (2003):451-463.  She says (p. 458), “Mary acknowledges God's mercy and love for the lowly and a radical reversal of normal human values in the coming messianic kingdom.”  Cf. also R. Alan Culpepper, “The Gospel of Luke,” New Interpreters Bible IX: 55.

[5] Cf. Letty M. Russell, “God’s Great Reversal,” The Christian Century (Nov. 20, 1991): 1089.  She says, “God's great reversal may come too close to home as we hear that Christmas is about lifting up the ‘lowly,’ filling ‘the hungry with good things’ and ‘sending the rich away empty.’ Yet it is by joining in the their desire and work for deliverance that we find out the meaning of the good news of great joy.”

[6] Cf. Stephen Shoemaker, GodStories, 217-18: “There are only two ways you can enter the kingdom and experience its joy. One is to be among the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted; those to whom God comes as healing, comfort, justice, and freedom. The other way is to be among God’s people who are going to the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted and bringing God’s healing, comfort, justice, and freedom.”

[7] Cf. Henri Nouwen, Here and Now, 62: “Only when we claim the love of God, the love that transcends all judgments, can we overcome all fear of judgment. When we have become completely free of the need to judge others, we will also become completely free from the fear of being judged.”

[8] Jürgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 338: “Faith can expend itself in the pain of love, ..., because it is upheld by the assurance of hope in the resurrection of the dead.

[9] Cf. Fred B. Craddock, Luke, 23-24, where he reminds us that Luke frames his account of the “new thing” God is doing in terms of “old stories” from the Hebrew Bible to establish a continuity in God’s work of redemption. He says (p. 24), “The new is at the door, to be sure, … . But for now, it is enough to be reassured that the new continues and fulfills the old, with the same God remembering covenants kept and making good on promises made.”