John 1:1-5, 10-14, 16-18

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

I want to start by sharing a video with you – it’s short and sweet, just 4 minutes – about grief, from someone who has done some serious thinking about and living with it in just the last four years. Her name is Nora McInerny and I’ll let her tell you what you need to know…

For what it’s worth, there is more to this Ted Talk – another 10 minutes, or so, to be exact – if you want to look her up on your own. She also has a podcast called, “Terrible, Thanks for Asking,” which seems interesting enough, if you’re curious. But this caught my attention a couple of weeks ago and I think it’s so much of what brings us here tonight.

When we started having these “Blue Christmas” worship services 10 years or so ago, they were new to me – and kind of a new thing in this neck of the woods, as far as I could tell at the time. And what started – in my mind – as a special kind of service, meant to serve a small, niche of a target audience – has become, in my mind, something I believe is – or should be – for anyone and everyone – because grief is or will be for every one of us at some time or another, if it hasn’t crossed our path just yet.

And I believe it is a hard and holy and faithful practice to own our grief, the way Nora McInerny describes it. Whatever it is that brings us here – or whatever griefs that find us in this life – the death of loved ones (or the fear of losing ones we love), the loss of jobs, the troubles of our children, the struggles of addiction, the fighting in our families, the ending of relationships, whatever it may be – these events mark us, indelibly. These events and experiences make us and reshape us as people in the world and as children of God. And it’s silly, if not delusional, to pretend or to believe or to behave otherwise.

So, my hope for tonight is never to prevent grief, or to fix grief, or to pretend that struggle and sadness are not part of life in this world or part of our life in this season. In fact, tonight is about precisely the opposite. It’s about naming just exactly for what and why God showed up, in Jesus, in the first place. Jesus wasn’t born just for the fun of it – for the sake of celebration and joy and mistletoe and silent nights, remember.

Jesus was born for such a time as this – as much as anything else. Jesus was born for the sake of the lost and lowly, for the sake of the grieving and struggling, for the sick and lonely, for the dark and despairing. And tonight is about remembering the truth of that and the hope there is in that truth. And it’s about letting our faith – and our friends who share it – surround us in ways that we trust together, and hope together, and endure together. And, if you’re not sure you have it in you to trust or hope or endure or believe at every turn these days, tonight is about letting someone else trust for you, or hope for you, or endure for and with and alongside you, if that will help.

Because, if we’re honest, this season is about multi-tasking with more than just the shopping lists and the food prep and the visits with family and whatever else keeps us so busy. This season is also, very much about multi-tasking our emotions.

It’s about holding our grief and our fear and our struggles in one hand, even while the world around us is trying to hand us cookies and smiles and celebrations and all kinds of wonderful reasons for very real joy. Like so many shopping bags, though, it can be hard to carry it all at once. But we can do it – we are called to do it – together. God doesn’t ask us to set aside or to set aside or to move on from our grief in order to hold onto all the other stuff, too. God gives us Jesus whose coming reminds that we can move forward with it, with hope for something more to come.

I like how Nora McInerny talks about how she catches herself referring to her deceased husband in the present-tense at times; how she used to feel guilty or, at least, self-conscious about that – until she noticed that everybody does it. And how she realized that that’s because the loved-ones we’ve lost – or whatever struggles and sadnesses shape us, in this life – are very much a part of who we are and who we continue to be, as they should.

And it made me think of how often – especially at this time of the year, in these Advent days of waiting and hoping and longing for the coming of Christ’s birth – I like to refer to Jesus as “the one who was, and who is, and who is to come.” That phrase always reminds me about the nature of the God we’re waiting for in Jesus: a God who indeed was, and who is, and who, indeed, is to come.

Just like whatever grief we carry with us tonight was… and is… and is to come? So is Jesus.

Just like our struggles were and are and are yet to be … so is Jesus.

Just like our sadness, our brokenness, our loneliness; just like our fear, our loss, and our despair; just like all of it was and is and is to come … so is Jesus.

And God comes, in Jesus, not to deny it; not to make it easy at every turn; not to call us away from what grieves or hurts or scares us most. But Jesus comes to call us forward with it, so that it – and we – might be transformed by the grace of God; grace which always was and always is and is always on the way.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

John 16:12-15

[Jesus said,] “I still have many more things to say to you but you cannot bear them now. But when the spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

NOTE: We have our graduating high school seniors share “Senior Moments” each year as a way to support their faith journey, hear what their plans are for the future and support them in that through prayer and worship. These “Senior Moments” were part of this worship this morning, as well.

I’m not sure if we’ve ever done “Senior Moments” on Holy Trinity Sunday, but I’m glad about it for a couple of reasons. First of all, it gives me some permission to say a little less about a thing for which I fear I may have run out of words over the years – the doctrine of the Trinity. It’s also something that, in my opinion, deserves more time and wisdom from the likes of Dr. Rob Saler by way of a lecture in the classroom than from Pastor Mark, by way of a sermon in the sanctuary. So I’m not going down that road in the same way I have in the past.

Instead, because I knew we’d be hearing from our own “Holy Trinity” of seniors this morning – thank you Mitchell, Dane and Macey – I couldn’t help but latch onto those first words from Jesus, who’s talking to his disciples and friends about his own going – his walk to the cross; his death, resurrection and ascension – and about the coming of the Holy Spirit that would follow. As part of all that, he says, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” And I couldn’t help but think that that sounds like equal parts loving lament and fair warning. “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” It feels particularly poignant to me, with Mitchell and Dane and Macey in mind, for Senior Moments Sunday – and on Father’s Day, to boot.

Who among you, if you’ve had the blessing and challenge of raising children, or loving a child, or caring for or mentoring someone with less experience than you, or offering advice to someone you love about something that matters to you both – who among you hasn’t felt like Jesus? (“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”)

Close your eyes and take a deep breath with me for a moment… Settle yourself into your chair and remember or imagine a few things with me for a minute…

Your first day of kindergarten – or that first day for your child or children – whether it was you or your own parents, someone surely felt something like Jesus did before loading that kid onto the bus or dropping them off in that classroom: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now…”

Recall or imagine the first day of college, as you packed and unpacked or helped your child pack or unpack or as you plan to do that in the days to come: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now…”

Remember or imagine your wedding day – or that special day for someone you love – in the moments before that walk down the aisle toward whatever was to come; surely, someone was thinking: “I still have many more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now…”

Remember or imagine – a hospital room or a nursing home or a bedside with hospice care – and maybe a pastor gathered round; Remember or imagine that someone is saying their final goodbyes, or preparing to draw their last breath. Who in or around that bed is thinking, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now?”

Imagine never having had or taken that chance for last words at a time like that: “I still have more things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now…”

Whether it’s kindergarten or college, first jobs, wedding days or last breaths, there’s always more to say, it seems. There will be bullies and bad grades; big fights and disappointments; sickness and healing; struggles and celebrations; death and new life too mighty for all the words we might use to describe them. But God is in and through, under and around all of it, already. And there just aren’t enough of the right doctrines or definitions to describe the power of God in our lives or for the sake of the world.

We do our best with what we have by way of “The Father, Son and Holy Spirit,” but it will never cut it – there is still so much more to be said and to be experienced and to be shared in our lives and for each other when it comes to knowing God’s presence among us.

And I think that’s something like what Jesus was getting at and what our lives show us over time: That the power of God shows up in and through the ways we love one another. That the power of God is made known by the ways we forgive, support, sacrifice for, mourn with, grieve alongside, struggle and celebrate with the people in our lives and out there in the world.

And I don’t believe we can defend or describe that – with doctrines or definitions – in ways that are adequate or fair or faithful enough for any of us to understand until we’re blessed to experience it for ourselves, in relationship with others and by the grace of our God.

There are always many more things to be said and shared, about what’s to come in this life and for the next. And – Dane, Mitchell, Macey – and everyone of us, as children of God – we can’t bear it, and we wouldn’t believe it, most of us – until the time comes to bear and to believe the fullness of God’s love for us.

And that takes eyes and hearts and lives open to the power and providence of God in our midst. I think it takes the patient presence of fellow believers, walking together as we go. And I know it takes the grace of God, above all else, to find us and to fill us with the truth of God’s love – for us and for the world – whenever we need it most.

Amen

Blue Christmas - Grief that Was, Is, and Is to Come

More Than Words for Holy Trinity