Are You Afraid of the Dark, Cinderella? A sermon preached by Rob Lee, March 22nd, 2015

Are You Afraid of the Dark, Cinderella?

A Sermon Preached by Rob Lee

Psalm 23

1 Corinthians 15:50-55

It was Emily Dickenson, the great poet who once penned these words, “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.” We hate talking about death, but I hope that we can face this sermon with a strong immortal hope that bears our souls to the cross and the empty tomb.

Will you pray with me?

            Changed from glory into glory, till in Heaven we take our place, till we cast our crowns before thee lost in wonder, love, and praise. Lord hide your preacher behind the cross so that it is you that they may see and not me. Amen.

            Cinderella. The name evokes fond memories of childhood joys and dreams as we all watched the Disney classic with awe as Cinderella fit her foot into the glass slipper. Well Disney has done it again as they often do with the 2015 soon-to-be classic remake of the animated film. Only this time, it’s not animated. We see the beauty of the blue dress, the pumpkin carriage, and fairy godmother. But this movie pointed out something I had forgotten until this past Friday night when sermon inspiration struck during the middle of the movie. I forgotten how Cinderella got her name, you see they explain it in the movie, much like French writer Charles Perrault intended way back in 1657 when he wrote what would inspire Walt Disney to make the movie.

            You see as the original tale goes, “After the girl's chores were done for the day, she would retire to the barren and cold room given to her, and would curl up near the fireplace in an effort to stay warm. She would often arise covered in cinders, giving rise to the mocking nickname ‘Cinder-ella.’” Now you may wonder what in the world this has to do with the text we just heard read in our epistle lesson, I promise we’ll get back to this.

            Today we hear a text best meant for a funeral. However, we are in Lent so it might be more appropriate than we think. You see we’re well on our way to the cross. Next week is the triumphant entry into Jerusalem and just around the bend is Holy Week and Good Friday. But today we have a reprise from all the darkness with three simple lines in the New Revised Standard Version… yes I counted them. “Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?”

            Are you afraid of the dark? Are you afraid of death? Now you don’t have to answer that out loud because maybe it’s something you like to sweep under the rug. Maybe it’s something that plagues your very soul. Don’t worry, I’m preaching to the choir. Fear of death can be crippling, right? We have no empirical evidence as my religion professor would say that there is an afterlife. We have nothing but the promise of two millennia of promises about this person, this Nazarene named Jesus.

            But today dear people of God, in spite of that bleak reality I would like to remind us all today that Jesus is enough. Jesus is enough. It was Marcus Borg who said when speaking of death, “So, is there an afterlife, and if so, what will it be like? I don't have a clue. But I am confident that the one who has buoyed us up in life will also buoy us up through death. We die into God. What more that means, I do not know. But that is all I need to know.”

            We are a Lenten people in this season of darkness. We are people who are scared of the coming darkness, and for good reason. You see death thinks it has the victory during this season. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but in our worship planning Patricia, Caroline, Michael and I have been very intentional with choosing hymns and prayers. We haven’t used the word alleluia once in any of our liturgy or hymn-singing. That’s an old tradition of burying the alleluia until Easter morning. We do this to remind ourselves that as we are dressed in black, as we have purple draped around us we are meant to die. But we take hope. We will sing alleluias once more. We take hope that Easter is coming for each and every one of us. You see that’s the promise of Easter: We all get one. We all will have our resurrection day. Rachel Held Evans puts it best, "Death is something empires worry about, and not something resurrection people worry about."

            You see even in Lent, even in the darkness of our own mortality we have immortality and resurrection to clothe ourselves with. We have the eternal hope that Jesus is Lord, and that we can take Jesus for his word. For Jesus himself is the Word become flesh, and even when you crucify the Word you cannot keep the Word dead for long.

            We spend our entire lives trying to prolong life, or find a way to make ourselves memorable. Whether it’s medical advancements we seek or some elixir of life or sorcerer’s stone we yearn for eternity here. But I think it was Professor Albus Dumbledore from the Harry Potter series who said it this way, “Don’t pity the dead, Harry, pity the living, most of all those who live without love.”

If there is anything we can do in the face of death it is celebrate. For God through the cross gives us permission to celebrate death’s very own death. For death has been swallowed up, not just swallowed but digested and sent out to hell where it belongs.

                The complexities of the 1 Corinthians text are combatted today by what Michael read earlier in the service. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will feel no evil, for thou art with me.” The reality of the Gospel is this: Christ walks alongside us in the glory of our youth, in the joy of our middle years, in the happiness of our golden years, and yes in the grips of the death we all experience. That’s why Christianity is unique in this world that peddles religion, God became human so that we might become like God. But deeper than that we realize that God in Christ Jesus experienced everything we could ever experience. So we, perishable creatures can put on imperishability. We mortal people can be clothed in eternal life.

            Now don’t hear me wrong, the point of our faith isn’t to be afraid of death, afraid to a point of hysterical seeking out of heaven and avoidance of hell. The point of faith is to celebrate life, a life well lived, so that when we reach that heavenly shore we will hear the words, “Beloved, you are my servant, in whom I am well pleased.”

            You see that Emily Dickenson poem I read earlier is a reminder of death, but the one we know in Jesus is a reminder that behold he is alive forevermore. So take heart dear people of God, because ultimately where o death is thy victory, where o death is thy sting?

            Stephanie and I have a favorite spiritual that we sing all the time in the car when it comes on the CD player. Mary D. Williams sings in a deep and booming voice, “There will be singin', there will be singin', there will be singin' over me! And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free. There will be glory, there will be glory, there will be glory over me. And before I'd be a slave I'll be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.” You see the hope of that song is that we are no longer slaves to the grave. We are no longer bound by death’s dark hand.

In the new Cinderella movie I was talking about earlier, one of the greatest lines in the entire film is said when Cinderella is about to reveal she is a lowly servant girl to the prince she had fallen in love with. The narrator states, “That is the greatest risk any of us take, to be seen as we really are. You see the greatest risk we take as human beings is show who we really are, that we are mortal, to admit that we will die. But the risk is met with peace because we know we too like Cinderella will rise with the ashes and cinders of our deaths into something beautiful and resurrected. Not through some fairy godmother but through the living and resurrected Christ who meets us in the place. So rise from the cinders dear people of God, rise and be free. 

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

Amen.

From Selma to Nineveh: A Sermon Preached By Rob Lee, January 25th 2015

It was the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” Will you pray with me?

God, speak to me, speak through me, if necessary, in spite of me, always beyond me that in everything you may be glorified through your son Jesus Christ, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns forever, Amen.

Where were you in 1965? This may be a mute point for those of you who were born after the fact or were too young to remember, but still I pose the question to those of you who can think back that far, where were you fifty years ago? More specifically, where were you when Dr. King led the marches to Selma, Alabama? Where were you, when riot gear was dawned by white police officers and Governor George Wallace refused to protect the black working class who were simply trying to gain what was ultimately theirs in the right to vote? Where were you? If your answer is anything but Selma, Alabama alongside Dr. King, then this sermon is for you.

Today we hear words from Jonah, familiar words from Jonah. We hear of Jonah and the story of the big fish and then again in the third chapter as we go to Nineveh. Nineveh, this city, is the New York City of the ancient world, I mean it took 3 days to get across the city on foot, but also the Las Vegas of the ancient world. Not a lot of good is coming out of Nineveh, and Jonah is called to go, to prophesy, and to fight the wrongs of his time. 

If you’re anything like me you’ve heard the story of Jonah and the big fish countless times, especially in your younger days. We normally associate this story with a children’s fairy tale complete with a whale. I love how one commentator put it though, “So the story of this old prophet is much more than a whale tale. Its message is meant for those mature enough to understand the ways of God, and to face the ways we try to lay claim to God and God's gift of grace.”


So what does this mean for 21^st century Christians? Unless you’re Moby Dick you aren’t going to be encountering a big fish any time soon. But I think this story, this tale of disobedience and ultimately obedience to the will and grace of God is something we can all learn from, especially if we are called to go to some place like Nineveh, or Alabama during the crux of the Civil Rights Movement.

Jonathan Daniels was a white Episcopal seminarian at the time of the Civil Rights Movement. He heeded the call of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to come to Selma and march to Montgomery, Alabama for voting rights and equal protection under the law. After a protest that led to imprisonment he was released and headed down to the local soda shop to get a cold beverage on a hot day. “But barring the front [of the store] was Tom L. Coleman, an unpaid special deputy who was holding a shotgun and had a pistol in a holster. He threatened the group that was with Jonathan and leveled his gun at seventeen-year-old Ruby Sales. Jonathan Daniels pushed her down and caught the full blast of the gun. He was killed instantly.” Daniels’ death shocked the nation, and forced white moderates to join the fight against racial inequality in the South.

I tell you all this because I want to ask you a question, a question that is at the heart of our faith as Christians. What if your calling is to go to Nineveh? What if God has called you to go to a place like Selma Alabama? What if God is calling you to go to a place like Ferguson Missouri, or West Africa, or Palestine? What if God has called you to the slums of Detroit, or the streets of Birmingham? What would your response be?

You see we Christians who sit in the pews every Sunday, feel like we could certainly go to a place like Selma during the middle of the Civil Rights Movement. We look at history with rose-tinted glasses and say, “Of course I would have gone when Dr. King asked us to give ourselves.” But deep down, we’re more content to sit here where it’s comfortable, where the blistering heat doesn’t cause us to sweat, where the systemic racism and subjugation doesn’t cause us any discomfort.

It is often said that 11:00 on a Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in our week. I feel like that points us back to Jonah. You see Jonah gets a bad rap for being the person who disobeyed God and ran the other way, but I feel like we might be those people as well. We might be Jonah, scared to go to Nineveh, scared to face the problems of this troubled globe simply because it doesn’t fit well into our schedules, simply because we might have to get our hands dirty. It was Marcus Borg a theologian who died just this week who said, “Christianity's goal is not escape from this world. It loves this world and seeks to change it for the better.”

Dear people of God don’t end up in the belly of a whale. Don’t end up going to Nineveh out of spite. Go because God has called you to share the sacred story of Jesus Christ, a man who changed the course of human history. Go to the places that need our love and care the most not for some heavenly prize but because God has called us to love our world and care for it accordingly. Dr. King had powerful words when he said, "It's all right to talk about "long white robes over yonder," in all of its symbolism. But ultimately people want some suits and dresses and shoes to wear down here! It's all right to talk about "streets flowing with milk and honey," but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here, and his children who can't eat three square meals a day. It's all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day, God's preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. This is what we have to do."

When I was in high school I attended the Youth Theological Initiative on the campus of Emory University. We talked about public theology, much like Dr. King was talking about in that quote. We talked about having the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. I challenge you all to do that today. I challenge you to look at our world through the lens of wrestling with the issues of our time and finding a way to combat injustice, inequality, and evil in whatever form it presents itself.

Don’t claim to go to Selma or Nineveh without actually intending to go. You saw what happened to Jonah. God is in the business of holy pursuit. God will follow you and beg you to follow God through God’s abundant grace. There is an eternal hope in being connected and saying here I am Lord, use me.

A few weeks back I took our youth group to see the movie Selma. Michele, Grace, Molly, and I all rode down to Boone to see this incredible film chronicling the three marches from Selma to Montgomery. We rode back in relative silence after the movie, trying to process what we had just seen. That was until someone said, “I can’t believe people stood by and let that happen.” 

Holy people of God, don’t be the people your grandchildren talk about wishing you would have done more. Don’t be the people who history chronicles as people who sat on the sidelines. Go to Nineveh, go and see what God can do with a city that is in ruins because of sin, despair, and hate. For ultimately the only response we can have to God is, “Here I am, Lord, use me.” Thanks be to God, amen.

Don't You Dare Turn Away: Advent I Sermon

Don’t You Dare Turn Away

A Sermon Preached by Rob Lee

Mark 13:24-37

FBC|WJ

Will you pray with me?

God may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing in your sight oh God our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I am a basket case of anxiety. Now you may wonder how that’s different from any other day in my life, but nonetheless this week I have anxiety on top of anxiety. You see in the scheme of things I shouldn’t be worried; in the scheme of things what I’m anxious over pales in comparison to the realities of our world today. Even still anxiety has overtaken my life. You’ve all heard it from me before, some time before December 19^th, I will hear from Duke Divinity School regarding my acceptance or lack thereof from that prestigious university.

            Now some of you who know me may feel like I am a broken record. While children have sugarplums dancing in their heads, I have the blue devils dancing in mine. I’m pretty sure my girlfriend Stephanie has watched me flip out every time the phone rings. I’m pretty sure my mom and dad are ready to move on with their lives and not hear about Duke as much as they are right now. But for me, this is one of the most important moments in my life thus far. This is the reality in which I live, and for right now, I’m having to be patient and wait. But honestly at this point it’s keeping me up at night.

            Today we hear eschatological words from Jesus. Eschatology, a theological term for the study of the end things, but today my favorite part centers around the last part of the passage. Jesus says, “Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.  It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” I love how one translation puts it, “Keep your eyes open.”

            Keep awake. In our go, go, go culture it can be hard to stay awake and keep watch. But I’ve been especially mindful this week that God calls us to keep our eyes open, wide open to the complexities of this world. And this time around ground zero for where God is calling us to look is Ferguson, Missouri.

            For those of you who haven’t turned on the television this week, Darren Wilson, the white police officer who shot an unarmed black teenager wasn’t indicted for his actions, regardless of what you think of what happened, racial tensions are at an all-time high with looting and protests in the streets and threats of Ku Klux Klan activity. This has been a rough week for race relations. But where has God been in all this?

            God has been pleading with us to keep our eyes open, to keep awake and see the horrors of systemic racism and inequality in our society. You see Advent is a time when we are called to see the terrible things that go on in our world.

            Right here at home, I think of how this is playing out, I think of Kelly Vannoy and Michael Sexton who every day keep their eyes open at the Sharing Center to homelessness and poverty right here in our back yard. I think of Laura McClure and her ability to keep her eyes open to the pain our world feels and her combatting that by working with Operation Christmas Child. I think of our youth who every year keep their eyes open to pain of a community like Birmingham or Washington DC every time they go on a mission trip.

            Perhaps this year, this Advent season as we wait for the crescendo of our year at Christmas we could begin to keep our eyes open. Perhaps we could stay awake. Maybe just maybe we could fight the injustices we face with an Advent hope. A hope that says nothing, NOTHING can keep us from the love and grace of the incarnation of Jesus Christ.

            You see as the text suggests, we are all along the watchtower keeping our eyes wide open to the hope of the incarnation of God. The fullness of our beings will be made complete in the hope of this time of year. In a world hell-bent on commercialization of this holiday, we as the church must keep awake to the coming glory of Christmas.

            You see the problem with Ferguson, Missouri and other places of violence in our world is that we as a people don’t let our hearts break. Why you might ask? We’ve become numb to the problems of our society. But let me assure you that the God we know, the God we have our hope in, God’s heart is breaking. So my prayer for you this season is that the things of this earth that break God’s heart might break yours as well. Keep awake dear people, keep awake.

            This season don’t you dare turn away. Don’t you dare fall asleep because ultimately who else will face the problems of this world with the love and compassion that Christ offers. For this season, the incarnation means that we are the hands and feet of Christ.

            But where is the hope in this sermon? Of course it’s the Sunday of Advent where we celebrate hope. Our hope is that our hearts don’t have to stay broken. The reality of the incarnation is that God loved us so much that God incarnated God’s self into humanity’s form. God came to our backyard, and we should welcome him into our hearts yet again this season.

            Dear people of God I wouldn’t be a good preacher if I didn’t address the rest of the text, especially this week. Jesus is telling us to keep awake because the end is near. Christ reminds us that Christ had died, Christ is risen, and that Christ will come again. What would you do if the world would end tomorrow? Martin Luther was once asked what would he do if the world would end tomorrow, and he said he would plant a tree. I’ve been thinking and if I knew the world would end tomorrow, I’d give my family and friends a big hug and I’d go down to a place like Ferguson, Missouri and I’d plant a tree. I’d plant a tree and remind whoever would listen that God is still God. That in Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free. I would hope that in some small way, that tree would stand as the world ended and Christ would know that there is still hope for humanity.

            Where would you plant your tree? Where would you find your hope if the world were to end tomorrow, you see with the promise that world could end at any time we have the duty of investing in today. We have the duty of keeping awake to the problems of our world because the end of our time here on earth could come at any moment.

            Every Christmas Eve I stay up and watch the Christmas mass from Vatican City, as Calvin Miller says I’m the Pope of First Baptist so I might as well do my religious duty and tune in to watch the other pope do his duty. It lasts forever and is often times goes late into the night. It often makes me tired and in need of sleep come Christmas morning. But regardless of how tired I am, it’s worth it because I know I have seen the incarnation of God here at First Baptist and at Vatican City.

            As Christmas is on the horizon, as we reach the hope of this season, keep awake. Keep awake and know that God is in the business of using you to change the world. This is the hope of this season. Know that in the economy of God, racism and sexism the things we’ve witnessed this week along with all the other “isms” will ultimately be eliminated.  

             Duke Divinity School has made me anxious these past few weeks and especially now. But I was reminded of the beauty of this season by none other than Pastor Michael, you see Michael and I have a deep relationship and he always keeps me on the right path. He’s one of the greatest mentors I’ve ever had, and I’m thankful for his friendship. I texted him one night and told him about my anxiety, my lack of sleep, and my fear of what would happen if I didn’t get in. Michael texted me back and said, “I know you are anxious, but you are going to have to continue to exercise patience and genuinely trust in the peace of Christ. Duke is not the essence of your identity.”

            First Baptist Church, I echo those words today. As we keep awake and keep our eyes open to the terrors of this world, we’re going to have to genuinely trust in the peace of Christ, and remember that Duke Divinity School, that our jobs, that our fears and anxieties are not the essence of our identity, God is. God is the essence of who we are and who we are called to become. So keep awake, keep awake and know that God is still God. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Considering the Anxious Lilies: A Sermon Preached on Holy Monday

Considering the Anxious Lilies

FBC|WJ

April 14^th, 2014, Monday of Holy Week

Luke 12:22-28

Will you pray with me?

            God of Holy Week,

            May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing in your sight oh God our strength and our redeemer. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

            Go with me if you will to the year 1959. Rogers and Hammerstein created what may be one of the greatest musical masterpieces that turned into one of the favorite movies of so many. The Sound of Music changed the way we look at films and musicals, and the beauty of that movie still captivates young and old to this day.

            In one scene of the movie, Captain Von Trapp in the face of the Nazi regime defiantly sings a song of love to his Austrian homeland. “Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow
bloom and grow forever
 Edelweiss, Edelweiss
 bless my homeland forever.” He stood with poise and courage in the face of Nazi power. The words he sang were a metaphor for his beloved Austria, and with Nazi Germany closing in the words reminded the people of the resiliency of the nation they loved.

            Today we hear about a different flower. The text we hear today is on its surface a very weird text for Holy Monday. Part of me wonders if Jesus even remembers the words that he said when he said, “Therefore do not worry about your life.” If anything, Jesus is very concerned with his life during this week of doom and gloom.

            Don’t worry about your life, even to Captain Von Trapp that was counter-intuitive. The reality is that we are creatures who worry, we worry because we are scared, alone, afraid, or in trouble. We worry because of jobs, of friendships, relationships, our own personal failings, or the fact that tax day is tomorrow and you haven’t started your taxes yet. Human beings are extremely good at worrying. But God is even better at causing us to give pause in our daily lives and give us peace.

            God gives us the lilies, the edelweiss, the flowers of Easter to combat the darkness of this week, of any week where worry threatens our very souls. God comes to us in the Christ Child, in the man on the cross and in the empty tomb to remind us again and again that worrying is ok, but worrying should not consume for God is Lord over time and space.

             As a person who suffers from anxiety of the worst kind, this text speaks profoundly to me because it reminds me that all of creation is a part of the magnificent plan of God to take care of all of us. If God can keep the lilies from worrying in all their splendor, can God not keep us safe as well? If God’s eye is on the sparrow, then where does the love of God’s heart lay down? It must be in our very souls.

            So as Jesus turns his face towards the cross and we too turn our eyes towards what is to come we are called not to be anxious. I wonder if Jesus remembered these words he spoke in Luke 12 by the time he got to Luke 22. I wonder if Jesus considered the lilies as he stood before Pilate and the crowds. I wonder if a sparrow flew over in peace as the crowds were yelling crucify him! Crucify him! Crucify him!

            You see we have the ability to be on this side of the resurrection, we know the outcome. But think of all the worry and despair the disciples must have had this week. The Passover was at hand and they had to make ready for that and on top of everything their Rabbi was telling them he wouldn’t be with them much longer. This was truly a week of worry and anxiety for all those gathered round.

            In one of the most thought provoking scenes in my favorite book series, Harry Potter is dealing with a dying Professor Dumbledore who will not survive the mortal wound he had been blown. The scene has lines such as these, “It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We're nearly there ... I can get us both back ... don't worry ... "I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you.”

            God comes to us during the Holy Weeks of our lives and says, “There’s no need to be worried, I am with you. Just like it was on that first Holy Week all those years ago, in the midst of it all Jesus broke bread and gave wine. He reminded the disciples whose they were and even in their denial there was grace extended.  Just like Captain Von Trapp they sang a hymn the night before he was betrayed. I wonder if it had anything to do with the flowers of the field or the beauty of the created world. Ultimately that doesn’t matter because Jesus faced his death with anxiety, and yet he fulfilled the task set before him since before the dawn of time.

            How will you face this week? Will you face it with anxiety and fear for what is coming on Good Friday? Will you face the future with caution and despair or will you shout yes to what God is doing to bring about Easter morning? These are the juxtapositions of our lives, Holy Week and Easter, death and resurrection, anxiety and joy. But ultimately, Easter, joy and resurrection win!

            Considering the lilies, the next time I’m anxious I’m going to give that a try. The next time I face my cross I’m going to consider the sparrow. Maybe you can do that too? Perhaps you can look into the eyes of whatever is staring you down and remind it that nothing on earth or under the earth or above the earth can stop God’s calming peace to be upon you. Anxiety and worry have no place in the Kingdom of God, and Jesus knew this even when he was anxious on Maundy Thursday.

             At the Garden of Gethsemane, even as Jesus’ anxiety and worry was reaching a boiling point he didn’t let the atrocity of what he was about to face overtake him. He considered all he had preached, all he knew about God and said, “Your will be done.” Even though Jesus went through hell and back to reach Easter morning he didn’t let his worry or anxiety consume him.

            We have a wonderful church member here at First Baptist Church named Diane. Diane is here with us today and the other night we went and saw the movie Noah together and followed it up with discussion at the local coffee house. Diane told us the story of her sitting under an orange tree in Florida worrying about a possible third pregnancy. Thoughts raced through her head and her worry was consuming her until her young son James came up and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and looked at him and James without knowing the situation said in a childlike voice, “It’s going to be ok, it’s going to be ok.”

            Friends if this is not the lesson of Holy Week I don’t know what is. As Captain Von Trapp prepared to sing Edelweiss at the Salzburg Festival he says, “I know you share this love. I pray that you will never let it die.” Jesus, the one we know as Lord never let love die, even in his own mortal death he was clothed with immortal love in spite of his anxiety and worry and pain. So however you consider it, whether it be through Captain Von Trapp standing without worry over his actions or through Diane’s story of sitting under the orange tree, counter to everything we have ever conceived, worry has no place in this week, anxiety has no place in this week for we are bound for the kingdom of God, we are bound for the resurrection and it’s going to be ok! It’s going to be ok! It’s going to be ok!

Waiting on the World to Change: A Sermon Preached at First Baptist Church

Waiting on the World to Change

Advent IV, December 22^nd, 2013

Matthew 1:18-25

First Baptist Church West Jefferson

Will you pray with me?

            God of life and love, what do you dream about? What is your dream for us? May we hear that word today. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

            Do you believe in dreams? It was a few days before Christmas. A woman woke up one morning and told her husband, "I just dreamed that you gave me a pearl necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" "Oh," her husband replied, "you'll know the day after tomorrow." The next morning, she turned to her husband again and said the same thing, "I just dreamed that you gave me a pearl necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" And her husband said, "You'll know tomorrow." On the third morning, the woman woke up and smiled at her husband, "I just dreamed again that you gave me a pearl necklace for Christmas. What do you think this dream means?" And he smiled back, "You'll know tonight." That evening, the man came home with a small package and presented it to his wife. She was delighted. She opened it gently. And when she did, she found a book! And the book's title was "The Meaning of Dreams."

            The question returns again, do you believe in dreams? We hear Matthew’s account of a dream and we hear it loud and clear. An angel shows up and says in angelic fashion, “Don’t be afraid.” Now normally when an angel shows up, it’s a good idea to be afraid, because Joseph’s dream changed the course of history. It changed the very reality of our world by Joseph’s obedience to his dream. So the question becomes not do you believe in dreams, but to echo what Michael said last week, what are you waiting for?

            Too many times we find ourselves waiting on the world to change. John Mayer even wrote a Grammy award winning song of the same name. We’re all here warm and cozy in church talking about the most incredible moment of all time and I guarantee some of you are making your last minute shopping lists and grocery plans. We’re waiting on the world to change. Why not be a little more like Joseph and Mary and believe in the dreams that change history.

            What if Dr. King hadn’t believed in his dream? What if Nelson Mandela on Robben Island hadn’t dreamed that apartheid could end? What if Mother Teresa had abandoned her dream that people deserved healthcare on the streets of Calcutta? What if you abandon your dream? What could the world be missing out on as you wait on the world to change without your dreams in place?

            As we approach the culmination of our Advent season I’d like to challenge you to dream again. Dream like you’ve never dreamed before. Because, as Frederick Buechner put it,  “If the Christmas tale is true, it is the chief of all truths. What keeps the wild hope of Christmas alive in a world notorious for dashing all hopes is the haunting dream that the Child may be born again in us - in our needing, in our longing for him."

            Friends do you see this truth beyond all truths, we don’t celebrate Advent, we ARE advent. We are the present and real coming of God to earth in our time for as Teresa of Avilla said, “Christ has no body but yours,
no hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world”

            So here we are, sitting on the vast expanse of Christmas about to dive into a world of joy and delight as family draws near and presents opened and candles lit. We stand with great expectations for what is about to happen and it’s time to start dreaming again. It’s like my dog Rusty. You see Rusty loves riding in the car, and whenever I am home in Statesville he hangs out with my dad. When my dad is out in the yard working on chores he will put Rusty in the passenger seat of the car with the car door open. Now my dad doesn’t call Rusty by his name because they both have the same name, so he calls Rusty, Little Man. Little Man sits in the side seat of the car and with anticipation for God knows what wags his tail the entire time he is in the car. He has no idea what, if anything is about to happen but he knows that if it does happen it will be grand.

            Friends like my dog we have no earthly conception of what Christmas might bring this year, but I can assure you when God bursts onto the scene it is grand. So this season of Advent, let expectancy and hope and love and peace and joy envelop you in a world of grace.

            What if God showed up in your dream? Would you have the courage of Joseph to say yes? What if God showed up in your life? Would you have the grace of the Virgin Mother to give your life for the advancement of God’s dream for the world? These answers are life-changing, and yes we are asked the very same questions today.

            You all know this story could have gone terribly wrong, correct? Even if Joseph had dismissed Mary quietly word would have gotten out and during that time in society Mary would have met a not so great ending. We have the hope of Christmas because people were obedient to their dreaming. They were obedient to what God had called them to. They were obedient to the incarnation, to Emmanuel.

            So this year as we light candles, as we sing carols, we dream. We dream of a teenage mother who doesn’t have all the answers but accompanies her fiancé to be taxed in Bethlehem of Judea. We dream of the child who would save us all, and in our dreaming we see that God was with us. God is with us, and God will be with us for the rest of our existence. So may you rest and learn to dream again in the majesty of God’s grace and the hope of all creation.

            If God shows up this year, be prepared for what might happen. One of the lines to John Mayer’s classic Waiting on the World to Change goes something like this: “It’s hard to be persistent when you’re standing at a distance.” Friends I think God realized that long before John Mayer did. God realized that persistence from a heavenly distance wasn’t working with a hard-headed, stubborn people like us. So as St. Iranaeus famously said ‘God became like us so that we might become like God.”

            What does that look like for you? What does God’s dream of persistence and patience for our lives look like for us? Deeper than that how are you living it out? How are you making God’s dream your reality?

            The greatest gift you can give yourself this Advent season is to believe in the dreams that God has given you. Believe in the calling placed on your life, believe in the hope that the incarnation is here to stay and that God has surrounded you with love, joy, hope and peace this season and all the days of your life.

            I must confess that I haven’t always believed in dreams. I’m a skeptic, I don’t buy into people’s dreams easily. But all of that was humbled this past week with none other than my little brother Scott. You see Scott is one of my favorite people in the world, and I want what’s best for him So six months ago when he started voice lessons I thought it would be a passing fad. He had other things he was so much better at that would make colleges notice him. I wanted to cry when he told me that he was going to be auditioning for the Hayes School of Music at Appalachian because I knew that his dream of singing might be crushed by people he would never meet sitting behind a desk. I knew the odds were against him.

            You see Appalachian’s admissions process to the School of Music goes a little like this: You send in a video recording and they call you back if they’d like to hear more from you. Well last night Scott got that call. Scott received the phone call that his dream was alive and well, and that my own ignorance to his dream was only hindering myself. So needless to say today I stand as a proud brother of a kid who will be auditioning at one of the most prestigious music schools in the state.

            Believe in the dreams of the ones you love. God worked 2000 years ago through a young and wonderful woman, and her husband who believed in her and believed in his dreams. That miracle can occur again and again. Believe in dreams this Christmas, and God will appear. Stop waiting on the world to change church, and start dreaming again.

All glory, honor and power be to the One who was, who is, and who is to come. Amen.