That’s hilarious and terrible, and I’m definitely not recommending you do that to your children. Though if you do… please send the video.
But the Grinch showing up at an unexpected moment to take things away isn’t all that different from the metaphor Jesus uses about himself in today’s passage. He says the day and hour of his return we cannot know; not even he knows. But when we least expect it, in a way we won’t anticipate, Jesus promises to return.
If we imagine ourselves as the homeowner in this metaphor, it sounds like bad news — because a thief breaking in means we’re about to lose something. But what if this sudden, unexpected loss isn’t a threat at all. Maybe we need someone to break in and take certain things away; not like the Grinch stealing presents, but like a holy thief who steals what we don’t need, what harms us, what we can’t let go of or get rid of on our own.
After all, some of the greatest gifts in life aren’t the things we receive… but the things we’re finally freed from.
Just ask Sir Anthony Hopkins.
The famous actor sat down with the New York Times for one of their installments of The Interview. The first question David Marchese asked him was: “Can you tell me about what happened on December 29th, 1975, at 11 o’clock?”
Hopkins responded:
I was drunk and driving my car here in California, blacked out, no clue where I was going, when I realized that I could have killed somebody — or myself, which I didn’t care about — and I realized that I was an alcoholic. I came to my senses and said to a friend at a party, “I need help.” It was 11 o'clock precisely — I looked at my watch — and this is the spooky part: some deep powerful thought or voice spoke to me from inside and said: “It’s all over. Now you can start living.” And suddenly the craving to drink was taken from me.
When asked later about that voice, Hopkins simply said, “It came from deep inside, and I don’t have any other theories except divinity — what I call God.”
Like a thief in the night, God broke into Anthony Hopkins’ life when he least expected it and took from him a desire he couldn't take from himself. What a gift.
And is that not a gift you want, maybe even one you desperately need?
Wouldn’t it be great for Jesus the holy thief to break into your life and take what you’ve never been able to let go of yourself? Not your Christmas presents, but the things that truly rob you: an addiction you can’t shake, the fear that grips you, the worry that wakes you at night.
What if Jesus stole away your self-doubt? Or absconded with your love of money and stuff? Or slipped off into the night with your anxiety, your despair, your perfectionism?
We make all these lists of things we want, and buy presents for each other thinking they’ll finally help us “start living.” If only we had the right clothes, the new bag, the latest tech — then we’d feel whole. But not one thing under the tree can actually do that.
Yet if Jesus takes even one of those burdens from us? Then we might sound a lot like Anthony Hopkins: Now I can start living.
This may sound like a new way of talking about what Jesus does for us, but it really isn’t. His entire life is an in-breaking into our world in ways no one expected: a poor peasant baby born in Palestine. And through his death and resurrection, he took from us what we could never take from ourselves, our sin, our shame, our separation, so that we could start living, here and now. It is a beautiful exchange.
Another Lutheran pastor once suggested that instead of making Christmas lists, we should make Advent lists, writing down the things we want Jesus the holy thief to take from our lives. Because the Gospel today tells us that Christ will come again. And if it’s anything like the last time, he’ll take away what we cannot remove on our own.
So what are you holding on to? Or maybe, what’s holding on to you, keeping you from living the life God wants for you?
Our culture loves to tell the lie that following Christ will give us more blessings, more stuff, more comfort. But the truth is often the opposite. Throughout the Gospels, he breaks into the lives of his disciples and takes things from them: safety, certainty, old identities, fears that defined them. And sometimes that taking is the very best gift.
In the welcome area, you’ll find small sheets of paper titled Advent Lists.
As you leave today — before you go back to checking off the gifts you’ll give — take a moment to write down the things you want Jesus to take from you this season. And as you write, consider this:
Are there things you can help lift from the lives of those around you: guilt, shame, pressure, loneliness?
When we ease those burdens for one another, we share in Christ’s liberating work. We help grace break-in to our lives so that we might live fully here and now.
Maybe the next time someone asks you, “What’s on your list?”
you’ll have a different answer.
Amen.
