Letters of Love, Part 2: Leaving the World Behind

 

Psalm 62:5-12

1 Corinthians 7:29-31

One day in 1780 the sky over New England turned dark at 9:00 in the morning. All of nature was disoriented and terrified. The people said, “This is the day of judgment!” It lasted until midnight, when the stars began to appear in the sky.

The strange occurrence is thought to have been caused by a combination of smoke from forest fires and a heavy fog. But at the time, there was great concern, even after the darkness lifted, as people became obsessed with the idea of a pending apocalypse.

There was a sect of Christians in the area that benefitted from this – the Shakers. They took advantage of this end-times anxiety and went on an evangelistic tour of New England, preaching their beliefs and practices. The Shakers believed in preparing themselves for the end by giving up their worldly goods and practicing celibacy. They gained hundreds of converts during this period of high anxiety.

The Shakers continued to thrive for several decades, reaching their height in the first half of the 19^th century, but by the mid-20^th century their numbers were dwindling fast. In 2017, they had only two remaining members, aged 58 and 77. So, even though the end of the world did not arrive, the end of the Shakers, finally, did.

Perhaps they were following Paul’s words to the Corinthians a bit too literally.

Throughout time there have been groups that became convinced that the end was coming soon, very soon. Some opted for survivalist practices, others just lay their bodies down and waited. It’s hard to know what to do, when the end is imminent. But the bigger problem with all of this is that each one of these groups got it wrong. Every single time. Because no one really knows how much time there is.

Back in the earliest days of the church, Jesus’ followers did believe that he would be returning soon. Paul’s earliest letters seem to reflect this belief, along with concerns about what would happen to believers who died during this time of waiting. It didn’t seem right that they should miss out on the great reunion with Jesus. But by the time Paul was writing this letter, it is likely that he was reforming his understanding of what it all meant. He was growing less literal in his thinking and his writing.

For us this raises the question of how we are to understand words like, “the appointed time has grown short” and “the present form of this world is passing away.” Groups like the Shakers and others believed they were going to leave this world behind, very soon. For us, though, we need to rethink what it might mean to leave this present world behind.

There is a novel that I read a while ago, called “Leave the World Behind.” And the story is about a family, the Sandfords, living in New York City, struggling with all the things modern Americans struggle with: the feeling that they are on a treadmill, that they are overwhelmed with demands and needs and obligations, that they are forever trying to get ahead, but always seem to be falling behind.

So sick of other people, they just wanted to get away from them. So sick of their less than satisfying careers, they just wanted to get away from them. So sick of their less than beautiful city apartment, they just wanted to get away.

And so in a moment of inspiration they decide to take a mini-vacation. Rent a beautiful house on Long Island, near the beach. Live in luxury for a few days. Leave the world behind.

So the Sandfords pack up their play clothes, bathing suit, towels and sunscreen, their books, their iPads, their phones, their headphones and earbuds, their charges and accessories. They all pile in the car: dad at the wheel, mom on a work phone call, two kids in the back seat, each with their devices watching their favorite shows. Everything is sublime.

But when they get there, they discover that cell service is spotty, wi-fi is weak. Heavens to Betsy, they might be untethered from their electronics. Could this be a good thing? They are not sure. They wanted to get away from the things of life that annoy them, but not from the things that amuse them.

Soon the story begins to turn dark, just like the skies over 18^th century New England. Wi-fi goes dead. Power out. Tesla self-driving cars go haywire. It’s a total disaster. And there is no GPS, so no one even knows how to get anywhere.

But that’s not the worst of it. Planes fall from the sky. Weird sounds pierce the air, wildlife begins acting strangely, like they own the place or something. It’s really happening. The present form of this world is passing away.

The Sandfords wanted to leave the world behind, but the world, as it was, left them behind. They were forced to begin finding a way in a different world.

Of course, this story is no more real than the beliefs of all the end-times sects that have come and gone. But this one made me think about what Paul might want to say to us about living in a world like this one.

I believe that in these verses from Corinthians Paul is really talking about attachment to the things of this world. If we let our attachments to anything in this world grow too tight, too desperate, then we leave no room for the power that exists most completely outside of this world.

Perhaps it is helpful to think of it in the context of idols. People of faith are cautioned against making and worshiping false idols, but we often have trouble really understanding what that has to do with us. Back in the days of Moses, it seemed to mostly be about the making of golden calves, that sort of thing. But we should understand that idols come in every form imaginable, and some we haven't yet imagined. Anything that consumes you – your time, your attention, your money – could be an idol. Anything that you are enslaved to, it could be an idol. And an idol always gets between you and your commitment, your trust, your devotion to God.

Paul would want to say to us that we should consider the time to be short, that we should live as if the moment we are in matters. And whatever it is for us that gets in the way of seeing God, loving God, trusting God fully and deeply in this moment, we are to let go of it. Act as though it doesn’t really matter.

And in this way, some of those end-times groups were right. Let go of the attachments to the things of this world. But not for the reason they thought.

Let go of attachments not because God is going to beam us up, scoop us up, or carry us up on a spaceship away from this world. Let go because only then will you be ready to live as God intends for you to live in this world.

To love this world that God created. To love all the people and other creatures God made. To love the way God loves. That kind of love is something we are incapable of, really. Only by trusting fully in God can we do it.

The Sandford family thought their problem was other people. They thought the problem was their boring jobs, their disappointing home. But those were not the problems. The real problem was their failure to understand what really matters. When the present form of this world passes away, what is left? That is what matters.

For them, ironically, it was people. One another, yes, but also the strangers they had learned to trust. The strangers who became friends; the ones they needed, who needed them.

Many centuries ago, the psalmist wrote these words: “For God alone I wait in silence. God is my rock and my salvation.” The people sang and repeated these words, again and again, reminding themselves that God alone is their salvation, God alone is worthy of this complete trust. Long before there were cell phones, self-driving cars, and smart electronics, the people needed to continually remind themselves of this: the world is full of distractions, but God alone is worthy of trust. God alone is our salvation.

All thanks and glory be to God.

Photo from NASA

Letters of Love, Part 1: Belonging

 

Psalm 139:1-6,13-18

1 Corinthians6:12-20

Last weekend we celebrated the civil rights leader, Martin Luther King, Jr. and I think about how his work changed the world in which we live. His sermons and other writing have left a lasting impact on our nation’s values and, even when it seems like we are moving backwards, we have his words to steer us toward a vision for a more just and loving world.

He wrote one of his most impactful works while he sat in a jail cell in Birmingham, Alabama, arrested for taking part in nonviolent protests. The story is often told that he wrote it on toilet paper because that was all he had available. But as good as that sounds, it isn’t true. He began writing on scraps of paper and, eventually someone gave him a writing pad.

He wrote in response to a letter printed in the local paper. It was written jointly by eight white clergymen. They expressed their concern that Dr. King’s efforts were unwise and untimely.

Reverend King wrote an inspired response from his jail cell, words that are among his most often quoted. He wrote that in the history of oppressed people the word “wait” has most often meant “never.” That time alone does not cure ills, but it requires the tireless efforts of dedicated people of good will. And, perhaps most pointedly, that the white church must take a principled stand or risk being dismissed as an irrelevant social club.

Over time, his words have been quoted, his letter has been reprinted again and again, because they speak timeless truths. They speak to us today as much as they did to the church in 1963.

Sometimes a letter can change the world. 

This is true of the letters that are included in the New Testament.  Written by the apostles of Christ, who took the gospel to new places, helped establish churches there, and then moved on to carry the gospel ever farther.  Even from a distance they cared for and guided these young congregations.  Even when they couldn’t be with them, their letters shined a light for them, to show them the way.

The Apostle Paul wrote many of these letters and one was this letter to the Corinthians. Paul built the church in Corinth. He traveled there from Athens bearing the good news of the gospel, and according to the book of Acts, Paul remained in Corinth for a year and a half before moving on to Ephesus.

Corinth was a fruitful place for Paul’s evangelism. It was a bustling commercial hub, well-situated for trade – a seaport city, full of diversity. People flocked there from other parts of the empire, all looking for upward mobility – all seeking to lift themselves up to a better life.

One interesting fact about Corinth is that many of these who came there were former slaves. Corinth was somewhat unusual in the opportunities it offered to freed men and women. They all became a part of the migration to Corinth, all seeking to lift themselves up.

It is not hard to imagine there were places and times when all these diverse groups of people clashed with one another. These clashes found their way into the life of the church. I would imagine that a good deal of Paul’s time there was spent in helping them work through their conflicts. And after he moved on, reports would come to him now and then of their ongoing struggles. There was some correspondence back and forth between Paul and the church. Unfortunately, we have only one side of the conversation, but in these letters we hear Paul’s instruction, reprimands, and encouragement to a struggling church.

In this passage of the letter, we see Paul’s concerns about behaviors that are harming them. Some of the people were, in their newfound sense of freedom, behaving in ways that exploited others. In this letter, Paul sought to help them understand the true meaning of Christian freedom.

The message of freedom in Christ that Paul brought to them had become distorted. They seemed to interpret this notion of freedom in a very individualistic sense, as in, I can do whatever I want to do. But Paul writes that this freedom in Christ is a gift to the community. If we are using our freedom in a way that harms others, we are misusing it. Behavior such as these Corinthians were engaging in was causing harm to the community, the body of Christ.

In this letter, Paul develops a beautiful theology of the body of Christ, helping us to understand our very real connection to one another – both body and spirit. The body matters, Paul teaches; what we do with our bodies has very real consequences.

A friend of mine told me that when he was a boy and his father sat him down for the talk about the birds and the bees, he read to him this passage from Paul. Looking back on it, he feels very grateful for the parenting he received. His father wanted to offer more than threats of all the terrible things that might happen to him should he behave in a promiscuous way. His father gave him something better, he gave him a worthy reason to treat his body with honor, with care.

“Glorify God with your body,” Paul writes to the church. In this particular case, that seemed to apply to the matter of visiting prostitutes. But it is not hard to see the many and varied applications it may have. We can give our bodies to something that will destroy our spirit. Anyone who has struggled to be free from addiction knows this all too well.

But your bodies are members of Christ and, therefore, glorify God with your bodies.

We may glorify God with our bodies, individually, when we take care of them, providing for them what they need, so our bodies will then be useful to God’s world. We may glorify God with our bodies when we refrain from using them for toxic purposes. We may glorify God with our bodies when we see our bodies as being joined with our spirits. We glorify God with our bodies when we see ourselves as being joined, through Christ, with one another.

It was something that needed to be said then and needs to be said now. Our bodies are not junk. No one’s body is disposable. They belong to God, as much as our spirits belong to God. We belong, body and spirit, to God – and by this, we belong to one another, in Christ.

Together we are one with Christ.

May we glorify God with our bodies as we seek to lift up one another as Christ lifted us.

Photo by Wayne Lee-Sing on Unsplash

From Before Time

Genesis 1:1-5

Mark 1:4-11

I want to tell you a story about a young woman named Lauren. She was born and raised in North Carolina, the daughter of a Southern Baptist woman and a Jewish man, although neither of her parents was particularly religious. They agreed, though, that they would raise their children Jewish. And so, Lauren grew up attending Hebrew school in the Reformed Jewish tradition.

Lauren, somehow, became very religious. She developed a strong affinity for the practices of orthodoxy. This created an interesting quandary for her. Although Lauren had been raised a Jew, the Orthodox community did not acknowledge her as a Jew because she was not born of a Jewish mother. So Lauren decided to convert.

This involved a period of religious education, followed by an examination by three rabbis. Then the final step was the mikvah, which is a ritual bath – a kind of baptism. At the appointed time Lauren descended into the bath, completely immersed herself, and when she rose up out of the water, she was an Orthodox Jew.

This was in December of her freshman year of college. But even while she was immersed in the rituals of Judaism, Christ was calling her. Jesus was slowly but surely drawing Lauren into his embrace. At the same time she was completing the final steps of her conversion, she was actively exploring the Christian faith. She would tell anyone who asked that it was strictly an academic interest. But Lauren was the only one who couldn’t see what was happening. The mikvah was almost like a baptism into Christ for her – she just didn’t know it yet.

It was a dream that became a turning point. Lauren dreamed about being underwater and Jesus came down to rescue her. When she came out of the water, she was different. And when she awoke, she was finally conscious of where she was going.

In a way, the mikvah and everything surrounding it began a journey of folding these two identities together for her – her Judaism and her developing Christianity. Lauren Winner is a writer who has written about her faith journey in a book called Girl Meets God.

She is now a Christian who carries Judaism in her body.

Lauren’s story is the church’s story. The body of Christ carries Judaism in it, in the same way. One way we do this is in baptism, a tradition borrowed from Judaism that became the entry into Christianity. Jesus was baptized by his cousin John, who had become known as a baptizer. John offered a baptism of repentance, a kind of purification. This was something that had been a part of Judaism for centuries – the mikvah.

And the people flocked to John out there on the shores of the Jordan. They hungered for this experience – to be refreshed, renewed, reborn; to draw nearer to God. Jesus came, too, to receive this baptism. And when he rose up from the water, the Spirit descended on him and he heard the voice of the Divine saying, You are my Son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased. With you, I find happiness.

Jesus was changed, in a way, after that. He was called and claimed and began fully living into his identity. It was the beginning of his ministry, which is the rest of the gospel.

And we, members of his body, also participate in this ritual of baptism, because of the example he set and the commandment he gave us: Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. And remember that I am with you always.

When we do this, we are participating in a ritual that brings us closer to God. We follow in Christ’s footsteps, stepping into the water, just as he did, and coming out of the water renewed, reborn.

When we do this, we are participating in a ritual that gives us a new identity. Jesus heard the voice of God claiming him as his own beloved child, and each one of us, we believe, is also claimed by God in our baptism. In the traditional Christian baptism liturgy, the parents are asked, what is your child’s name? This is the moment at which this baby is introduced to the world as a child of God.

When we do this, we are participating in a ritual that goes back through generations and millennia. The rituals of water, and its cleansing and healing powers; the symbolic death and burial and rising again to new life; the assertion of the power of God over the powers of evil and chaos.

We are participating in an act that is older than time.

When God began creating the world it was a watery chaos. Human life could not thrive there. But God’s breath swept over the surface of the waters and meaning was born. Purpose was born.

This we read in the first chapter of Genesis, in which the ancient people attempted to tell the story about who they were in relation to God and the world. Water, they knew too well, is dangerous. It is a force to be reckoned with. Water can kill and destroy.

But water is also life-giving. Life cannot survive without water.

Water is dangerous. Water is life-giving. And only God controls the waters.

When God’s breath moves over the waters, good things happen: healing, cleansing, strengthening, freeing, comforting things.

The sight and touch and sound of water connect us with all of life throughout time. Water connects us with that time before time, when God’s breath touched the waters and blessed them, when God created time.

Ever since then people have been drawn to the water, and not always understanding why. We just know that it soothes our souls, it quenches our desires, it enlivens our bodies. It connects us with the source of all life.

Maybe this is a lot headier than you bargained for this morning. But my message to you is this: This little thing we do occasionally, called baptism, is essential. Because it touches the deepest part of ourselves and connects us to all the generations that came before us and those that will come after us. It connects us all to God. and it does all this because that is the way God has chosen to do.

In every baptism, God is naming and claiming a human being.

In every baptism, we are professing God’s confounding and enormous love for the world and all of us in it.

In every baptism, we are answering God’s invitation with our “yes.”

May we remember our baptism – today and every day. When we wash our hands, bathe a child, take a dip in the ocean, or run through the sprinkler, may we remember our baptism and, once again, say yes.

Photo: ChurchArt.com 

Assurance

Luke 2:22-40

We don’t hear much from the gospels about Jesus’ early life – his infancy and childhood, nothing at all about his teen years. But we do get a few important highlights from Luke.

After the journey to Bethlehem, the birth, the angels and the shepherds. Then very briskly, 8 days later, at the appropriate time, the baby was circumcised and named Jesus, in accordance with what they had been told by the angel.

Then came the time for the purification at the temple. It is prescribed in the book of Leviticus that a woman, after giving birth, should go through a ritual of purification which ends with the offer of sacrifices at the temple. Mary and Joseph travel to the temple where they will offer two turtle doves, which is an acceptable alternative for those who cannot afford to offer a sheep. This would have happened about 40 days after Jesus’ birth. At the same time, they are dedicating their firstborn child to the Lord, in accordance with the law of Moses.

Mary and Joseph do these things out of a sense of obligation – these are the rituals that were a part of life for Israel. It is an obligation to God and to their community. But more importantly, their actions come from a place of hope. Mary and Joseph share in Israel’s hope in the promises of God, promises they have been taught them since childhood.

And the promises, the rituals, are all a part of the assurance that is voiced in the words of the Shema, spoken in prayer every day: Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God; the Lord is one.

There is comfort in the rituals, it is a way of joining in the whole community’s affirmation that this is what we believe, this is what we hope. And so, according to Luke, Mary and Joseph make their way to the temple at the appropriate time in order to complete the rituals. They are participating in the community of faith. They will hand their turtle doves over to the priest, who will then offer them as a sacrifice on Mary and Joseph’s behalf – a sacrifice of purification and of thankfulness.

It is a happy day for the little family, surely. And there is Simeon, in the temple. Simeon is a righteous and devout man, a man we can assume is of an advanced age, because he is awaiting his death. There is one thing he is hoping to receive before he dies, and now, when he sees this little family enter the temple, Simeon knows that this is it. “Master, let your servant go in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation: a light to all the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”

It’s a beautiful moment for Simeon, obviously. But I wonder about Mary and Joseph at this moment. Because Simeon goes on to say a few other things about the child, and with every word that comes from his mouth, I imagine Mary holding her baby tighter and tighter. “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

This is good news. This is not good news.

As Mary listens to these words and tries to draw her baby back into her body to protect him, Anna approaches. A woman of great age, a prophetess, Anna begins praising the Lord for this child, loudly for all to hear, all people who are seeking the redemption of Israel.

This is much more than Mary and Joseph came for. They came to the temple for the rituals which signified their membership in the community of faith, but they did not anticipate this. Who are these two old folks, Anna and Simeon, who apparently cast off their filters a while ago and now say anything they feel like saying. Truthful things. All of the truthful things. Things no new parent would want to hear.

And I wonder what Mary and Joseph thought. Did they think these two old folks were a little off? Missing a few screws? Did they get annoyed or resentful of them? Who walks into a stranger’s party and starts proclaiming all kinds of uncomfortable, disturbing things?

Maybe Simeon’s grandson was there with him, keeping an eye on him. Maybe he took the old man by the arm and said, “Okay, come on Pops. That’s enough now.” Maybe Mary just looked at him, sucked her teeth and muttered, “Inappropriate.”

It is inappropriate to offer the whole truth.

We believe in the importance of being honest, but we also believe that there is a time and a place for everything. We don’t approach a couple on their wedding day and tell them there will be many fights and tears in their future, days filled with despair, moments of wondering if they made the right decision. We don’t say to parents who are baptizing their child that they will have years of worry, sickness, financial strain, disappointments, and maybe have their hearts broken. We say encouraging things. We go for the easy assurance that feels appropriate on days like this one.

Simeon didn’t take that approach. He gave a different kind of assurance, one that probably didn’t feel so assuring at the time. But Simeon and Anna, they were there for a reason. They were charged with speaking the whole truth. Inappropriate as it may seem. Because there is no truth without the whole truth.

When Mary and Joseph had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they left in a hurry. I don’t think they wanted to hang around with Simeon and Anna. But, if I know Mary at all, I think she treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

Because Mary knew, didn’t she?

Mary had received the assurance of the angel – The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid.

She had received the assurance of her cousin Elizabeth and the witness of the shepherds in the fields. And in all these messages Mary has been given, there are doubtlessly things that delighted her, things that piqued her curiosity, and things that troubled her. That’s what the good news is like for any of us.

It’s a whole package.

And so we are drawn into the community of faith, where we will, together, listen for a good word and reaffirm our hope and belief. Where we participate in our own rituals, listen to one another and lend a supporting hand. Where we celebrate with one another in the joyful times and sit with one another through the hard times. Through it all, we offer the gift of presence.

Just like Mary and Joseph and Anna and Simeon, it is in the community of the faithful, where we return again and again to draw strength for our days and clarity for how we live in the world. Where we receive the assurance of God’s grace, which is God’s way of saying to us, to borrow a few words from Frederick Buechner:

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us."

May the grace of God shine on you and in you through all the hills and valleys of your days. 

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

Christmas Eve: Light

Climb into the wayback machine with me for a few minutes. All the way back to Christmas, 1980. It was a special Christmas for my family because we knew that it would be my grandmother’s last.  And everyone wanted to give her something special.  We all wanted to make her wishes come true. 

It was an extravagant Christmas that year.  She got all the things she had dreamed of. 

There was a plush velour rose-colored blanket. To be precise, the color was mauve, which was a very big color in the eighties. Mauve velour was all the rage. It would have been perfect if it could have been a mauve-colored velour electric blanket, but I think the heating elements would have melted that old velour material, so it wasn’t a choice. 

Then there was an exquisitely beautiful doll.  Yes, this might seem a bit childish.  But you need to understand that my grandmother didn’t come from the kind of family who could afford to buy their children beautiful dolls or much of anything else, so this dream was a very old one – almost as old as she was.

But the best gift of all that year was a rain lamp.

Do you know what a rain lamp is?  They were kind of popular in the 1970’s.  Some people say they were the equivalent of the lava lamp for older folks.  A rain lamp is a tall, cylindrical shaped lamp, usually with a Greek goddess in the middle, surrounded by fishing lines strung from top to bottom, all around the goddess.  You plug it in, turn on the light, and it starts a pump inside that sends oil dripping down the wires.  It is supposed to look like rain. 

Some people thought they were elegant.  Others thought they were tacky.  It’s a matter of taste.  To my grandmother it was beautiful, so she got one for Christmas.

We loved her so much; we tried to give her everything she wanted.  Have you ever felt like that?

We have all felt that way – when we wanted nothing more than to fulfill the hopes and dreams of the ones we love. 

Every year, during the month of December you can find the film It’s A Wonderful Life playing on some channel at some time of the day. The story of George Bailey of Bedford Falls, and all his dreams and desires, his glories and his disappointments.  All his life, George was looking for his happiness somewhere else.  He wanted so much to leave Bedford Falls and have a real adventure, but every time his plans were foiled.  George couldn’t understand why it always had to be such a struggle, why he always had to be waiting for his life to begin.  But we, who are watching the film, can see something he couldn’t see – that all the love, all the goodness, all the living was going on right there all the time. 

One dark night in December when George thought he had lost everything, he lost his hope as well.  George thought there was nothing for him this Christmas, and that he had nothing to give anyone else – absolutely nothing.

But George didn’t count on the love that had been accumulating for him over all those years, like interest in a bank account.  He didn’t know that the years of struggle had born fruit all around him.  He didn’t know that there was a whole town full of people who loved him and wanted to give him everything he needed. 

They all showed up for him that year. It was the most blessed Christmas George had ever known.  In that darkest night the light shone, and the darkness did not overcome it.

The story of George Bailey is a mere reflection of the story that draws us together every year at Christmas.  The story we come here to listen to, again and again, is a story of a people who dreamed of salvation.  The treasure they sought was a land of promise, a land of milk and honey where they might live in peace. 

It is a story of a people who dreamed of a savior – one who would break the chains of slavery; relieve them from oppression and war and hunger. 

It is the story of a man and a woman, about to become parents, who held simple dreams – a dream of finding shelter and the safe delivery of their child.  They sought to be faithful to God’s design for their lives, to honor the treasure they had been given, even if not to understand it. 

In the darkness of that night so long ago, these two people were being watched over and cared for and loved, by a God who wants to fulfill the dream –

The dream of peace; the dream of a world where all people are fed and safe; the dream of a world where love reigns supreme.

You and I share this dream.  We often get distracted by lesser dreams – which could, possibly, be having your very own rain lamp (FYI, you can get one from Etsy.)  But deep in our hearts we treasure a greater dream – a dream of a wonderful life ruled by love.  Let us not lose sight of this dream, no matter how dark the night. 

No matter how dark the night, the light shines.  And the darkness will not overcome it.

 Photo: ChurchArt.com 

Advent 4: Love

 

Probably the Bible verse known by the most people is John 3:16. Most of you can say it on cue: For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that those who believe in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

The verse isn’t a part of our Advent or Christmas readings, but it is in the background of all of it. For God so loved the world.

It is in the background of the story we hear this morning about King David. Sitting in his palace, feeling quite full of himself – he has, after all, defeated all his enemies. I imagine David’s approval ratings were sky high. And so now, with satisfaction, he looks around and says, “It’s a darn shame, isn’t it? I have this nice house and poor old God has to live in a tent. I’m going to do the right thing and give God a nice house of his own.

But God, as David comes to learn, doesn’t want a nice house. “I don’t need a temple,” God says to the prophet Nathan. “I have lived in this tent for many years now, moving in it from place to place, along with my people. Remind David, please, that I have taken him and all of Israel where they needed to go, when they needed to go. And I will continue to do that, always.”

God so loves the people that God promises to be with them always, wherever they are.

And it is in the background of our gospel story, where the angel Gabriel comes to Mary and announces the good news. You will conceive and bear a son; his name will be Jesus – the Savior. The power of God will overshadow you. Through it all, Mary, wherever you are, God will be with you.

Because God so loved the world that God gave his only Son, the boy-child of Mary.

This Son will be called Jesus, the Savior, the Deliverer. But he is known by many names, one of them Immanuel, which means God-with-us.

God loved the world so much that being confined to a temple was not sufficient. God loved the world so much that even traveling in a tent was no longer enough. God came down to earth, took on flesh and blood and bone, becoming fully human. God’s promise is true and eternal: to be with us.

And this means, for us, that no matter what hardships you are facing, no matter the pain and sorrow that befalls you, no matter the threats you encounter, God is with you.

For refugees – those who flee Gaza, those who flee Ukraine, those who have fled gang warlords, corrupt governments, famine or bullets – God is with you.

The God of exiles, refugees, and migrants still shines a light in today’s present darkness. For God so loves the world – all of it. all of us.

This is the most important thing for us to know.

Because hope can be a slippery thing in this world. Keeping faith in the promises of God is sometimes not an easy thing. It was not always easy for King David, and for all those leaders who went before or came after him. It is not always easy for all who have sung the psalm – I will sing the wonders of your love, proclaiming your faithfulness to all generations.

It was not always easy for Mary, the mother of God. When she sat on a donkey’s back feeling her labor pains, when she knew not where she would find shelter. When she, her husband, and newborn fled the wrath of Herod, becoming refugees in Egypt. When she watched the empire crucify her son – God’s Son.

But Mary knew. She knew in her heart that God will bring down the powerful with love, the strongest force there is. She knew this, and her cousin Elizabeth knew that Mary knew this. When Mary entered Elizabeth’s house, a few verses down, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leapt for joy and Elizabeth, the mother of John, sang these words about Mary: Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.

May you share in this belief. May your hope be steadfast and strong. May you know God’s love, which never leaves you.

Photo by Rostyslav Savchyn on Unsplash