Isaiah 2:1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. In days to come the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

Today marks the beginning of Advent – the time of expectation, anticipation, preparation and longing for Christ (both his birth and his second-coming).

The world in which we live is in a time of anticipation. It is incomplete. A world in which 1 billion people live on less than $1 a day, where religion is used to justify violence, where every day 1,500 children worldwide (the vast majority of them newborns) become infected with HIV, where soldiers return to their countries in coffins – this world is not complete.

If we believe in a God whose creation is good; a God whose goal for the world is to usher in a new kingdom of peace – A kingdom where the lion lies next to the lamb, where weapons of death are remolded into instruments which will bring forth food from the earth. Then we are right to expect something more; to wonders aloud “there has got to be more to life than this.”

Today’s scripture reading from Isaiah speaks about anticipation. Isaiah is given a prophecy concerning Jerusalem. At this time in history Jerusalem was not the formidable city on a hill with secure walls, attracting pilgrims from all over the world. Instead, Jerusalem and Mount Zion (which was a mere hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem) were physically unimpressive; the very symbol of international insignificance. Yet, God designates this insignificant place to be “established as the highest of the mountains” and to become the epicenter of God’s instruction which would bring about peace on earth.

The power of Isaiah’s prophecy is that he reveals God to be “for us.” God is on our side. God is committed to bringing peace. God is willing and able to use seemingly insignificant and unimpressive things to correct the course of the world. Nothing embodies this message more than the incarnation – God coming to earth in the form of a fully-human infant, born in a barn in an insignificant town, living a life of service to others, and ultimately giving his life on our behalf and at our hands.

It is true that this is a time of anticipation. But it is also a time or participation. We must allow our lives to be shaped by God’s teaching. What exactly does a life shaped by God’s teaching look like? Well, we just read how the apostle Paul would answer that question. He gives us a list of don’ts: don’t get drunk, don’t be sexually immoral, don’t argue, don’t be jealous, etc.

On one level Paul’s words are hard to argue with. I mean, can anyone dispute that the world would be a better place if we all stopped sinning? No. But what are we to make of the fact that we just can’t stop sinning? After all, you can tell me hundreds of times not to do something but I can’t promise you that I won’t end up doing it. What is important to understand about Paul is that he is not saying that we have to rely on ourselves to find the power and energy to faithfully live out God’s commands every minute of our lives. We can only love God when we realize that God loves us – that God loved us while we were still sinners gives us the freedom to love God through our thoughts, words and actions

Let’s look back at Isaiah 2:5:
“Come, house of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the lord”

To walk in the light is not a command, it’s a promise. Throughout the Old Testament, “light” refers to God’s provision and deliverance. God promised to provide something which would allow us to live in the peace of a world ordered around God’s word. And this is what we wait for in Advent.

God’s promise of deliverance occurs in two stages. The first occurred when God became incarnate 2000 years ago in the person of Jesus. He brought the kingdom of God to earth through his teaching, miracles, reaction against earthly power structures, and his victory over death through his death and resurrection. In this sense, the kingdom is described as being an “already.” It is already here.

Jesus also spoke about coming again, to finalize the kingdom of God on earth. In this sense the kingdom is a “not yet.” We are still waiting for the day when the lion and lamb will lay together in peace, where there will be no poverty, no death, no sorrow, where the insignificant things of this world will become the very instruments of God’s peace. In Advent we remember the anticipation of Christ’s first coming, as well as his promised return. This is not a passive anticipation, but an active participation. We are actively participating in the kingdom of God which is already here but not yet complete.

Once while I worked as a hospital chaplain, I visited a patient on the intensive care unit. Her chart indicated that she was in a “persistent vegetative state.” I entered the room, walked around her bed to sit down by her side and I noticed that her eyes were following me. I introduced myself and she grunted in response. I asked her if she would like me to pray with her and again she grunted. I folded my hands, bowed my head, and prayed. I prayed that she would not be in pain. I prayed for protection, for peace as she continued on her journey toward death. I prayed even when the words left me and I had no idea what to pray for any longer.

When I said “amen” she began to move. She picked up her right arm and reached out for my hand. When our hands clasped together she spoke, “your hands are so cold!” As I was holding her hand I was amazed at the level of consciousness this woman was displaying. It was here where I realized exactly what it is like to live in an “in-between time” an “already but not yet.” She was a person who people had given up on. A person terrorized by a great injustice of life – a person who was dying, a person who by all accounts had nothing to be thankful for. She was utterly powerless and insignificant. Yet, in the midst of prayer, this woman reached out. She reached out for a hand to hold, to comfort her. Though it was a cold hand that embraced hers, I would like to think it was comforting nonetheless.

We are all trapped inside bodies which cannot fully respond to God’s grace and love – bodies which will ultimately fail us. Yet, we do have the ability to reach out to God. No matter how insignificant the world tells us we are, God has promised to take our hand and hold it. This is the same God who has promised to ultimately recreate the world into a place of peace. As we live in this “in-between time” and anticipate Christ’s birth and return, we are encouraged to use the freedom from sins which Christ has earned for us and faithfully obey God’s command by serving our neighbors and participating in the peace which has already begun on earth.

Amen.

Luke 6:17-31

[Jesus] came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them

Then he looked up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. "Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. "Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. "Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. "Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. "But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

This proved to be an interesting week to prepare a message. I want to honor our celebration of All Saints Day, along with its assigned lessons from Daniel about apocalyptic beasts as well as the Jesus’ words of blessing and woe known as the Beatitudes. But there are other things going on in our world worth exploring, including the absurdity of the Cubs winning the World Series for the first time in 108 years, as well as the even more absurd imminent US Presidential election. On top of all that, before Pastor Mark left for vacation he let me know that a sermon on stewardship would be appreciated in light of next week’s designation as “Building Fund Commitment Sunday.”

That means I’m trying to tie up the topics of death, apocalyptic beasts, blessing and woe, politics, and giving money to the church.

Just as I was starting to lose hope I would find a common thread, I was reminded once again of the work of Dr. Brené Brown. This is probably a familiar name to many of you, as her research on topics of vulnerability, imperfection, worthiness, and courage have impacted many arenas of our culture, including previous teachings here at Cross of Grace.

I’m particularly drawn to her work explaining the extent to which we try to avoid pain and suffering, which has the unintended consequence of shutting ourselves off from risks which otherwise would allow ourselves to experience joy and love. Her research has demonstrated that we close ourselves off from relationships, questions, and challenges because our self-esteem is so low that we feel unworthy of relationship, not smart enough to handle the questions, and too weak to endure the challenges. Brené Brown uses the language of “numbness” to describe this reality.

I’m drawn to, and convicted by, that idea because that’s largely the type of person I fear I have become. Numb.

I have encountered enough negative life experiences to make me closed off to emotional and physical risk. On some core level of my being I convinced myself that the joys in life are not worth the pain in life. I so despise and want to avoid the low lows that I’ve experienced in my life that I try desperately to stay level, even knowing full well that staying level makes me numb and closes me off from potentially feeling much joy.

Here’s one basic example; I grew up a huge Chicago Cubs fan, due primarily to the gift I received as a little boy of a Cubs hat. My dad had brought it home for me from one his business trips. Once I had the hat, I was a fan. My sports acuity was forged during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s when Ryne Sandburg, Mark Grace, Andre Dawson, and Sammy Sosa wore the Cubs uniform. It also helped that one set of my grandparents lived in Mesa, Arizona, where the Cubs hold their Spring Training. I remember walking around the ballpark in Mesa, asking random cubs players to sign my baseball. My other grandfather even bought me my own Cubs jersey with my name stitched on the back.

I remember where I was on October 14, 2003 – the day the Cubs were five outs away from winning the National League pennant, before a fan interfered with a potential out (Steve Bartman) and the Cubs went off the rails. I was sitting in my apartment in Valparaiso, eating a Quiznos sub, when the infamous play happened. I was alone, so I didn’t feel too bad for the words that came out of my mouth that evening. I cried. I thought, “It’s not worth it.” All the hope and energy I had riding on the Cubs winning the pennant and making it to the World Series, it wasn’t worth the pain I felt at experiencing their loss. I moved back to Ohio the next month and put my Cubs jersey in a box of childhood mementos in my parents basement.

I stopped caring about the Cubs. They weren’t worth the pain.

I was aware of the hype surrounding the Cubs this year, but I didn’t watch a single Cubs game until the World Series. Even watching the games I really didn’t care who won.

Some people would say that not letting one’s emotions get tied up in sports allegiances is actually very healthy; but what it meant for me was that when Anthony Rizzo caught that game-ending out and the team erupted onto the field with joy that had been pent up for 108 years, I barely managed a smile. It was a moment I had wanted since I was a little boy, but I had become so emotionally divested in the team that their historic victory barely registered for me.

I dug out that personalized jersey on Thursday morning from that box of mementos which had made its way to my basement when my parents moved out of their Ohio home. It had been in that box for 13 years, almost to the day.

I put it on in an attempt to rediscover some of the joy that I’d previously felt for the Cubs. It didn’t work. I felt like a hypocrite all day. I felt unworthy. In an attempt to protect myself from any further harm I had abandoned the Cubs when they let me down. I simply could not be a part of any of their joy.

This is just one example of the countless times in my life when I’ve closed doors to entire parts of my life as a result of choosing numbness over the possibility of joy or pain. I do it with friendships, jobs, my relatives, and also the very way that I think of myself. I do it so often it’s second-nature. It sucks. I avoid caring in order to protect myself from harm, even if it means losing out on pure joy.

My wife knows this about me. She knows my history with depression. She understands that I’m so scared of pain that I’m prone to withdrawing completely, closing the familiar pain of loneliness over the stinging pain of disappointment. My wife knows this about me but she never stops challenging me to be vulnerable.

And then there’s my kids, who have a profound way of tapping into my most extreme emotions. No one except my kids have ever been able to make me feel so scared, so angry, or so ecstatically joyful. No one except my kids have ever made me feel so vulnerable.

If you’re anything like me, if you’re anything like the masses of people Brené Brown has researched and learned from, then you too might be uncomfortable with being vulnerable.

As hard as it is to live this out in my life, I’ve never doubted its truth. It is absolutely true that vulnerability is the path to authentic joy (and, yes, pain as well). God’s truth as revealed through Jesus Christ is only Good News to those who are vulnerable. Joy in Christ is worth the pain we endure when we take up his cross and follow him.

I added the three verses immediately preceding today’s Gospel text to show you who Jesus’ original audience was. They are people who suffer from disease and unclean spirits. They are completely vulnerable before Jesus; they are willing to bear their imperfections before Jesus; and they are healed by his power.

It is in this context that Jesus directs his words, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. "Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. "Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven.”

Their vulnerability before God allows them to receive God’s blessing. So too, our vulnerability before God and others opens us up to blessings from God and from others.

A vulnerable person exposes the other cheek after being struck.

A vulnerable person gives the shirt off his or her back after having their coat taken from them.

A vulnerable person is generous in sharing financial and emotional resources with someone in need.

A vulnerable person is completely dependent on God, and therefore in solidarity with those who are in need.

So too, a vulnerable person is able to look death in the face and declare the most audacious of claims, that the fate awaiting each and every one of us is not death, but eternal life.

And maybe that’s why this gospel text is assigned to All Saints Day. After all, what makes us feel more vulnerable than thinking about death?

We go to great lengths to try to avoid thinking about death because there is simply nothing so utterly low and meaningless and depressing as death. And yet, Jesus’ final beatitude (not spoken but symbolized on the cross and in the empty tomb) is the total depravity of his death juxtaposed with the resounding joy of resurrection three days later. Blessed are the dead, for they will inherit eternal life.

I can’t explain to you what all this should mean for your life. But for me it is a resounding call to live a life of honesty and openness to pain and joy. It is a call to put myself out there in the world where acts of irresponsible generosity, over-the-top compassion, raw honesty, and utter vulnerability open myself up to others and God.

It means investing in God’s work in this world, both within the walls of the church as well as within the interior emotional spaces of all God’s people, which can be some of the riskiest and most rewarding work I could ever hope to engage in.

At this time of year it also means taking my citizenship seriously not only by voting for the candidates who come the closest to lining up with Christ’s commands to turn the other cheek, give generously to those in need, and stand in solidarity with the most vulnerable and isolated people in our nation. It also means realizing that our citizenship is not only important in November. But every day for citizen of the United States and disciples of Jesus Christ is an opportunity to be advocate politically and personally for the poor, hungry, marginalized, mourning, unwanted, neglected; the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant.

But above all, it means…

trusting that God is more powerful than a political party or candidate;
trusting that God is more powerful than the prophetic beasts that haunt our nation or our hearts,
trusting that God is more powerful than the wealth in our bank accounts;
trusting that God is more powerful than a Dexter Fowler leadoff home run or an Aroldis Chapman 101 mph fastball;
and trusting that God is more powerful than death itself.

And so, today and every day we give thanks that God promises to meet us in our most raw and honest vulnerability in order to lead us into relationships of blessing and abundance through Christ alone.

Amen

"Already...but Not Yet" – Isaiah 2:1-5

What the Cubs Taught Me About Blessing and Woe – Luke 6-17-31