Tuesday, January 19, 2016

You Can’t Win If You Don’t Get a Ticket

2nd Sunday after the Epiphany
January 17, 2016
Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11

            This week’s big news, and what just about everyone was talking about, was the $1.6 billion Powerball drawing.  I’d even venture a guess that many of us here this morning bought a ticket, although I’m not going to ask for a show of hands.  The official United Methodist stance on the lottery is gambling is deadly to the spiritual life, because it implies that you don’t trust God to provide.[1]  However, I realize that many people thought this was all in good, harmless fun, and, hey, you can’t win if you don’t buy a ticket.  Then it got even more exciting because three of the winners were from Maryland!  And yet the good news from the Scriptures this morning is that God does provide, and not only provides, but offers us the abundance of his house, as we read in Psalm 36.  The beginning of the Gospel of John is often called a prologue, kind of an introduction to the book, and you may remember how it starts by saying, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.”[2] The Word, of course, is Jesus Christ.  A few verses later it says that “From God’s abundance we have all received grace upon grace, one gracious blessing after another, gift after gift.”[3]  God offers us blessings, offers us gifts, most importantly, of course, the gift of his Son, and it’s up to us whether or not to receive these gifts.  There is no buying a ticket here, you’re offered it free of charge, but you can’t win, you can’t receive the blessings, if you don’t first take the ticket.  There’s another place in John’s Gospel that also talks about God offering us abundance, and it’s later on, in chapter 10.  This is the part, or one of the parts, about sheep, where Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[4]  Jesus also says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”[5]  Jesus came that we might have abundant life.  That’s the promise, and that’s the promise that we see evidence of in our readings this morning. 
            Our Gospel lesson, also from the Gospel of John, was the story of Jesus’ first miracle.  And if you’d had to guess, what would pick his first miracle to be about?  I would guess some kind of dramatic healing, right?  Maybe even resurrection, like when Jesus brought Lazarus back from the dead after he’d even been buried for two days.  Something big, something powerful, like showing off his control over life and death, that’s what I’d expect as Jesus’ first miracle.  But that’s not what it was, was it?  Instead, Jesus does some sort of trick with water and wine, a fancier version of what I did with the kids this morning.  He turns water into wine, not all that hard if you’ve got grapes and a wine press and the proper equipment.  Except this miracle isn’t about being fancy.  It’s not about “look what I can do.”  Jesus’ first miracle is about abundance.  He doesn’t just turn one pitcher of water into wine; he turns six large stone jars of water into wine.  Each of those jars would have held between 20 and 30 gallons, so we’re talking about, as the wedding reception is winding down, pulling out somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons of really good wine.  We’re talking about generosity.  We’re talking about abundance.  We’re talking about “grace upon grace,” extravagant abundance.  Jesus shares, and he doesn’t just share a little, he shares profusely, elaborately, excessively, blessing upon blessing upon blessing.  That’s the first sign that Jesus did, and John says Jesus “revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.”[6]  Jesus revealed his glory at a celebration, at a time of happiness and laughing and smiling and joy, and he added to the good feelings.   
            Jesus shared at the wedding out of the abundance of God’s house, as we read in our psalm this morning.  That middle two verses of what we read says, “How precious is your steadfast love, O God!  All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.  They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.”[7]  All people may take refuge, that includes us, and one Bible translation puts it from our perspective: “We find protection under the shadow of your wings. We feast on the abundant food you provide; you let us drink from the river of your goodness.”[8]  And yet this truly is abundance, because it’s offered to all people, everyone is invited to God’s banquet table, and there is enough for everyone to eat and drink and be satisfied.  Now, some people may eat more than others, because they start off hungrier, or in general like to eat, but that doesn’t mean the food will run out for others.  Everyone, the hungry and the well-fed, rich and poor, middle class, upper class, and lower class, all will get enough to eat.  That’s the abundance of God’s house.  Everyone eats until they are full, if not even stuffed, since sometimes when there’s lots of good food, it’s hard to eat only a normal portion.
If you go back to that prologue at the beginning of John and keep reading, it says, “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.”[9]  Here’s the thing about light, it shines on everything equally.  You can’t turn a light on in a room and say only these people over here can use it.  [Cowenton: This new track lighting was initially for the choir.  However, both the liturgist and I can see better, as well as Ms. Edie, our acolytes, our kids, our ushers.  If we were to turn off all the other lights, y’all would still be able to see the light up here.]  Everyone in the room sees the light.  And Jesus, again in the Gospel of John, says, “I am the light of the world.”[10]  Talk again about abundance, light for the whole world.  A feast for the whole world.  All people may come.  Talk about an open table. 
This section of Psalm 36 that we read is “the joyful response of a people who experience the results of God's promise in Isaiah.”[11]  If you remember that passage from Isaiah that began with not keeping quiet and not sitting still until Jerusalem’s salvation shines like a burning torch, and then “Nations will see your righteousness, all kings your glory. You will be called by a new name.”[12]  Jesus says he is the light of the world, in John, but over in Matthew’s Gospel he says “You are the light of the world… Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”[13]  Talk about a new name.  “You will no longer be called Abandoned,” Forsaken, Deserted, Desolate… “Instead you will be called My Delight Is in Her, Married,” Light of the World, “because the Lord delights in you and your land will be cared for once again.”[14]  This is a promise, a promise of abundance, of grace upon grace, blessing after blessing, gift after gift… if we’re willing to receive it.  I almost didn’t include the Isaiah passage in this sermon, because we don’t really need it, there’s enough abundance in the other readings, except that this beautiful promise needs stating and needs claiming.  “For Zion’s sake I won’t keep silent, and for Jerusalem’s sake I won’t sit still.”[15]  Well, for your sake, I will not keep silent and I will not sit still, until your righteousness shines out like a light, and your salvation blazes like a torch, and we know, for ourselves, the abundance of God.  Promise.
Now, we do have to talk about one problem that comes in with abundance, and it’s not the fear of scarcity, that there won’t be enough, but the fear of gifts that are different from ours.  Our reading from 1 Corinthians talks about an abundance of gifts.  Paul emphasizes that these all come from the same Spirit, and yet there are many different gifts, from wisdom to faith to healing to miracles to prophecy to speaking in tongues to interpretation of tongues, and often what happens among God’s people is that we don’t know what to do with people who have different gifts than the ones we were given.  And that’s often how we self-select into denominations.  You won’t find many Methodists, at least in the U.S., who speak in tongues, or who are even comfortable around someone speaking in tongues.  People with different gifts out of God’s abundance, other than the ones we’re used to being around, make us uncomfortable, make us question if those gifts are also from God, may make us jealous of how God blessed them and didn’t bless us, just as how you may feel jealous of those who won last week’s lottery jackpot.  We have received gift upon gift, and yet so did others.  And others may receive different gifts.  That’s why Paul emphasizes “there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. The Spirit's presence is shown in some way in each person for the good of all.”[16]  Not the same way, but in some way.  That’s why we’re not all called to do all the same things.  That’s why not all churches engage in the exact same ministries.  We have to know which gifts God’s offering to us and which ministries God’s calling us to and it’s not going to look the same as the church next door, and that’s okay.  It’s not even going to look the same as it did here twenty years ago, or ten years ago, and that’s okay, too.  We’re a different church now than we were then, I’m not going to judge better or worse, because it doesn’t matter.  What matters is discerning which gifts are here now, which gifts are being offered to us if we but claim them, and which ministries God is calling us to engage in today. 
            God’s abundance isn’t like a zero-sum budget, where everything gets divided up.  And it’s not like the lottery, where different winners get different amounts of the prize.  God’s abundance means there is plenty for everyone.  It means gallons upon gallons of good wine is being brought out toward the end of the party.  It means receiving his gifts after gifts after gifts, and sharing them.  We’re blessed to be a blessing, just like Abraham back in Genesis.  And God’s abundance blessings mean we can claim all of God’s prize, and so can everyone else.  His abundance isn’t split, his love isn’t split, his grace isn’t split.  It’s all for you, and for you, and for you, and for me.  Thanks be to God.




[1] BOD, 2012, p. 131
[2] John 1:1-2
[3] John 1:16, NLT, NRSV, MSG
[4] John 10:11
[5] John 10:10
[6] John 2:11
[7] Psalm 36:7-8
[8] Ibid., GNT
[9] John 1:3-4
[10] John 8:12
[12] Isaiah 62:1-2
[13] Matthew 5:14a, 16
[14] Isaiah 62:4
[15] Isaiah 62:1
[16] 1 Corinthians 12:4-6, NRSV, v. 7, GNT, emphasis mine

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

It's Not Over Yet

Baptism of the Lord Sunday
January 10, 2016
Luke 3:15-22; Isaiah 43:1-7

            These first three Sundays in January continue the story begun at Christmas of the incarnation, that is, God becoming human in Jesus Christ.  Jesus was both fully God and fully man.  At Christmas it was obvious that he was a normal human being like you and me, and so the lectionary writers then wanted to make sure we remembered that he was also still God through a series of revelations, or epiphanies.  Last Sunday was Epiphany Sunday, when the magi came, and it’s also called God’s revelation to the Gentiles.  Gentiles, being everyone who isn’t Jewish, including me and you, unless you have some Jewish ancestry, and including those magi.  They came from the East.  They were outsiders.  But God led them through the star to come worship Jesus.  There’s no way a random group of people would travel a long ways to a foreign land to worship a baby if there wasn’t something special about that baby.  Then, today, with the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River, it begins innocently enough, since John the Baptist is baptizing everyone else, too, except that after Jesus’ baptism, God speaks, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”[1]  This is the revelation of Jesus as God’s Son.  Then, next Sunday we’ll read about Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding in Cana where he turns water into wine and we’re told that “[Jesus] revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.”[2]  So, we’re in week two of three revelations, three epiphanies, three “aha!” moments.  Last week we talked about the revelation of light, that our light has come.  Today is about baptism. 
And yet our baptism reading is paired with this beautiful passage from Isaiah.  “But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”[3]  And that’s exactly what happens in baptism, God claims us as his own, God calls us by name, just as he did with his own son, Jesus, “You are my beloved Son.” 
            Now, I imagine there are a lot of things you might be called, a lot of names you’ve been called over the years, some good, some bad, some deserved, some not.  You may have even told the joke to call me any name you want, just don’t call me… late for dinner.  All of those names, all of the experiences those names represent, they are all part of who you are.  Even the times when you’ve been going through the floods and the fire, good times and bad, all these experiences form you and are part of who you are, for better or worse.  The thing about them is, though, is that they are also part of your redemption story.  How the water came up to your neck, but didn’t drown you, or perhaps you did feel drowned, but you did not die, those times are all part of the story of how God is at work in your life, redeeming your life.  “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; when through the rivers, they won’t sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you won’t be scorched and flame won’t burn you.”[4]  God has kept you safe through all these disasters, and will continue to do so all the days of your life. 
            The book of Isaiah was written in part during exile and part as God’s people returned from exile.  However, it was not an easy return from exile.  They didn’t just hop on a plane or a bus and ride for a while and then they were home.  No, that deliverance happened while “crossing a desert with few oases, fording rivers where there were no bridges, and braving wildfires where there were no fire departments to extinguish them. Deliverance then and there—the actual return from Babylon to Judea—concretely meant those returning home would very likely face all these things.  These were serious obstacles. And the word of the Lord is ‘This is part of my redemption, and I am with you.’ They were thus at once obstacles and pathways of redemption.”[5]  The process of salvation and redemption is not easy and it is not smooth.  It means the spouse breaking away from the abusive partner, and then having to face them in court.  It means the time it takes to figure out how to best treat a disease and the time it takes before that treatment is really effective.  It means the highs and the lows, the long walks alone, crying, and the long talks with good friends, also crying, as you move on from a traumatic experience.  It takes time, it takes energy, it takes courage, because it is not a smooth path and the process of deliverance, the process of redemption often includes ordeals. 
            I pray that by this time you are thinking of your own story, but in case you need an example to help spark your train of thought, or if I just need to talk for a few minutes while you think through your own example and tune me out, I’ll give a minor example.  My engagement ring that I wear is almost 100 years old.  It’s a diamond solitaire that my great-grandfather gave to my great-grandmother some time in the 1920s after they were married.  All that my Grandma would ever say about her father is that “he was not a nice man.”  In today’s terms, he was an abuser.  That’s the origin of my ring.  Then, when my parents got engaged it was given to my mom to be her engagement ring.  My mom wore the ring for almost 20 years, until my parents divorced, then it went and sat in a jewelry box again.  When my husband and I started talking about getting married, I asked my mom for the ring.  I see it as redemption to wear it during a healthy marriage, and yet the process of redemption isn’t over yet, as we have not yet finished living into our marriage vows of “til death shall we part.”  That’s how a redemption story works.  It’s got bad parts.  It’s got good parts.  It’s got a part that is not finished yet.  But these parts are all part of who you are.  These experiences have all helped form you and shape you and are part of your redemption story. 
            Baptism, however, is the primary experience that names you.  Who you are is part your experiences and your salvation story, and who you are is also part of God’s family, because of your baptism.  God calls you his own, God calls you by name, and that name does not ever change, even if other names in your life have only been for a time.  I used to be Ms. Willet when I was a school teacher.  But this name, God’s beloved child, doesn’t change, no matter what.  Because, “in the waters of baptism, God seals God’s love for us, no matter what we might have done and what might happen.”[6]  When you were baptized, the pastor made the sign of the cross on your forehead, marking you as Christ’s own, as belonging to God, forever. 
            Probably the funniest thing at my college graduation was at the end of the ceremony when the President of the college, who was a priest, because I went to a Jesuit university, got up, held his hands out, and said, “I now pronounce you sons and daughters of Saint Louis University FOREVER!”  Whether God sounds like that in your head, with a big, booming voice, or sounds more like this voice from heaven at Jesus’ baptism that says, “You are my child, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness,”[7] the message is the same.  Because of our baptism, we belong to God. 
Now, if you haven’t been baptized, or aren’t unsure, I’d love to meet you for coffee or something and talk about, if God’s nudging you in that direction.  Or, if you aren’t officially a member of our church and would like to join us, we’ve already got two families who are interested in becoming members, and we’d love to have you join as well.  Just let me know.  Or if you’ve been coming so long you’re not sure, just let me know and we’ll find out for you.  Regardless of where you are in the process, together as a congregation we’re going to reaffirm our baptismal covenant, if you would please turn to page 50 in your hymnal.



[1] Luke 3:22
[2] John 2:11
[3] Isaiah 43:1
[4] Isaiah 43:2
[6] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 1, p. 222
[7] Luke 3:22, CEB

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

"Your Light Has Come"

Epiphany of the Lord Sunday
January 3, 2016
Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12

(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2QYFL11Ork&feature=em-upload_owner )

            Anyone stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve?  And if you did, did you have the TV on to watch the ball drop in Times Square?  Or perhaps you were out and about in our fine state and saw in person the disco ball drop in Hampden or the doughnut drop in Hagerstown or, featured on national TV this year, the crab drop in Easton.[1]  It turns out there are all kinds of objects to drop to ring in the new year, which is why it makes it all the more interesting to learn that there are a few places that really want to distinguish themselves, and so instead of dropping something, they raise something.  For example, in Charlotte, North Carolina, they raise a crown, a symbol of the city’s nickname as the Queen City.[2]  Even more interesting, because of how it relates to our Scriptures for this morning, is that Chicago has a star that rises at midnight.  After all, what do our magi see?  They saw Jesus’ star at its rising, and then went to find him to worship him.[3]  They were paying attention enough that they saw the star go up.  They weren’t just scanning the night sky and said, “Hey, look up there, it’s a new star”; they said, “Hey, look there on the horizon, that star is going up, that’s a new star, one just being born.”  And they asked King Herod, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.”[4]
            It’s an interesting idea, the idea of a star being born when Jesus is born, and yet it makes sense, because we who follow Jesus know that he is the light of the world.  In the Gospel of John Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.”[5]  Jesus, of course, is the light that leads to life.  His is the star that we should follow, the star that sheds light on the path that leads to life. 
Now, the good news about this star, this light, is that we don’t have to go find it. The opening verse of our Old Testament passage says, “Arise!  Shine! Your light has come…”[6]  Your light has come.  You don’t have to go get it, it comes to you.  You don’t have to go find it, you don’t have to make sure you have enough money to buy it or shop for it on sale, you don’t have to do anything, other than to receive it.  Jesus has come, and nudged each one of you in some way, because otherwise you wouldn’t be here.  Whether you consider yourself a believer, or if you’re just in here this morning wondering, in some way you have noticed that Jesus has come. Even if it was not a conscious decision, you’ve come here in response, to worship him, just like the magi.  Your light has come.  You don’t have to grope in the darkness anymore, or hide in the darkness, or stay in the darkness.  Light has come, just as it came on the first day of creation when God said “Let there be light,” and there was light.[7]   It’s rather fitting in that way for the first Sunday of a new year to also be about light.  Light has come, without you having to do anything about it at all (kind of like how Christmas came for the Grinch). 
Because “in the beginning, God.”[8]  All things start with God.  In the beginning was God, and God takes the first step towards you.  God creates the light that comes towards you and invites you to step into the light, to follow Jesus, the Son, so that you won’t have to walk in darkness anymore.  “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.”[9]  And this light, this star, we know by the name, Jesus. 
And you’re probably thinking “yeah, yeah, yeah, we know all this, Pastor Heather.  Tell us something different.  Now it’s a new year, now that it’s not Christmas, we want something different.”  And the verse that spoke to me and that all this is building up to and based around is that first verse we read from Isaiah, “Arise!  Shine!  Your light has come.”  It’s light like the morning light, that comes whether you’re ready for it or not, whether you want it or not, whether you’re anxious for it or not.  The night always ends.  The sun always rises, morning always comes.  Some mornings you’re up and at ‘em.  Some mornings you want to put the pillow over your head and ignore the sun.  It comes, regardless of how well you slept the night before, regardless of how much sleep you got, regardless of how many times your three year old woke you up the night before, whether you’re ready to face the day or not.  The light comes, Jesus comes, and you have to get up.  The choice is to receive him or not.  You can get up on the wrong side of the bed and be cranky and grumble and complain and gossip and generally be miserable and make people around you miserable.  Or you can get up on the right side of the bed, you can “rise and shine.”
What’s interesting about shining is that the source of the shine, the reason for shining, isn’t you.  You can’t make yourself shine and you can’t produce light all on your own.  We shine with Jesus’ light.  “Arise!  Shine!  Your light has come.”  We rise because it’s morning, it’s time to get up.  We shine, though, because our light has come.  We don’t shine because we’re morning people or to reflect our own stars.  We shine with Jesus’ light, we reflect his light, because he is the light that leads to life.  We don’t lead to life.  We can’t do anything on our own, even keep our new year’s resolutions.  I think March is the longest I’ve ever lasted on a new year’s resolution, maybe April.  With God’s help, with God’s light, we can follow the path that leads to life and maybe even invite others to that path. 
“Arise, shine, your light has come.  The glory of the Lord is shining on you!” That’s the full verse.  The Lord’s glory is shining on you.  And that’s how you can get up, and rise, and shine, too.  Let’s make that our theme verse for this year, to guide us and encourage us.  “Arise, shine, your light has come.”  Jesus is here, and because he is here, we can get up and share his light with those who still walk in darkness.  1 John says that “We love because he first loved us.”[10]  Well, we shine, because he first shined on us.  We receive and we reflect out his light.  How? It may be as simple as a kind word or biting back a harsh word.  It may be sharing food or a blanket.  It may be giving an honest answer when someone asks why you shine, and not take the credit for yourself.  As a church it means that we work together and build each other up and build up the body.  It means being helpful and not hurtful.  It means that our actions and words are ones that are life-giving and we refrain from ones that are life-draining.  In order to rise, we have to build each other up and build up our church.  In order to shine, we have to receive and reflect Christ’s light out to our neighbors.  Jesus’ light leads to life, and so as you participate in the ministries of the church over this next year, ask yourself if what you are doing, even what you are saying, is life-giving and actually enabling and strengthening us to rise and shine.  It may mean some light gets shined in places we don’t want the light to shine.  It may mean some things come to light that have been in the dark for a long time.  Those are ok.  We will get through the tough times, as long as we focus on what gives the church life and refrain from what drains the life of the church.  This is our year to arise, and shine, and with God’s help, we can do it.

“You Need a New Wardrobe”

Christmas Eve 2015
Psalm 96; Luke 2:1-20

(Or watch here: https://youtu.be/5ki6WfDpSew)

            Many of you learned this past fall that I am a lifelong Kansas City Royals fan.  I was born in Kansas City, and even though my family moved away when I was five years old, I stayed loyal to the team.  When the Royals won the World Series this year, the best quote I saw on social media was one the Royals posted themselves.  It said, “It’s been 30 years, you need a new wardrobe.”  The last time the Royals won the World Series was exactly 30 years ago, in 1985, and even if any Royals fan had any World Series shirts leftover from then, there’s no way they could be in good condition; you need a new wardrobe.  (Now, as a side note, I realize it’s been thirty-two years since the Orioles won the World Series, and some of you learned this past summer that I will root for the O’s, as long as they’re not playing my team.)  Either way, whether it’s 30 years or 32 years, the point is you shouldn’t be wearing the same clothes now that you did then.  I realize there are may be a few timeless pieces, or perhaps a wool sweater that holds up against the test of time.  And I realize that some items from the 80’s have made a come-back, like leggings and big glasses.  However, the bulk of your wardrobe should not be the same as it was 30 years ago.  It’s been 30 years, you need a new wardrobe.
            The psalm that was chosen for Christmas Eve by the wise people who created the lectionary begins by telling us to “Sing to the Lord a new song!” And yet, then we read Luke 2:1-20, every year.  It’s not like we ever change things up and read Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth one year, and well, neither Mark nor John really have a birth narrative.  Every Christmas we read Luke 2, just like every Christmas we sing the same carols and we decorate the sanctuary in the same way.  Christmas is a time when we like things to stay the same.  We want to see the same ornaments on our trees, we want to bake our holiday cookies, I want to hear John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album.  The one year I was in Nicaragua a friend advised me to make Christmas really different, since it was already going to be different.  But I didn’t want to make Christmas drastically different, and so I stayed with a local family, instead, and joined in their family gathering and festivities.  At Christmas we like things to stay the same.  Our Christmas Eve service has to end with singing “Silent Night” while juggling a candle and a hymnal. 
            And yet our psalm tells us to sing to the Lord a new song.  It’s an old, familiar story, and yet we’re supposed to sing a new song.  We sing a new song because the truth is that there have been changes since last year.  You may have new ornaments on your tree this year or bought a Christmas present for someone you never bought one for before.  You may have changed your Christmas decorations slightly from previous year.  I remember the year my mom stopped putting garland on our Christmas tree.  After the lights and before the ornaments every year growing up we put on silver garland.  And then mom decided the garland needed to be retired.  It hadn’t been 30 years, but maybe 15 or 20, and that was long enough for a life span of garland.  It was time to decorate the tree in a new way, without garland.  There are other changes since last year that may not be so trivial, like the absence of someone who has passed.  You sing a different song, or the same song in a different way, after you lose someone you love.  In the past two months I have presided at three funerals and attended two more viewings of folks in our community who have passed.  Those families are experiencing Christmas in a different way this year.  It’s the same holiday, but this year it’s different. 
            In addition to external changes, there are also internal ones within each of us.  We sing a new song because we are not who we were last year.   I now have a year under my belt of serving here.  My son, who was an infant last Christmas, is now walking and starting to talk!  You are not the same person you were last Christmas, and others have changed as well.  That’s one of the hardest parts of being a pastor, actually, in that I’m only here for a season.  I only know you as you are now, whether it’s an early season or a late-in-life season.  It’s one of the things that’s been strangest for my mom with her pastor; she only knows my mom as an empty nester, and not as a mom when any of us kids were home.  Who we are now is not who we used to be.  I was five the last time the Royals won the World Series.  That’s why it’s time for a new wardrobe, one that’s appropriate for this season of life.  Our church is not the same as a year ago, either, and that’s okay.  Either we change and we grow, or we don’t change and we stagnate and wither away and die. 
God, however, God chooses change and new life instead of death, and that’s why we sing a new song.  A professor in seminary once pointed the irony of complaining about materialism at Christmastime.  Commercialism, yes.  Consumerism, yes.  But materialism, God becoming material, taking on flesh and blood and bone, is what Christmas is all about.  Yes, the Bible tells us that “God is the same yesterday, today, and forever,”[1] and yet, there are also instances of where God changes his mind and places where God does a new thing.  Jesus Christ, God taking human form, was one of those new things.  God wanted to offer life to his people, a way out of death, and so he sent his only son into the world.  God doesn’t change, who he is, the substance of who God is, doesn’t change.  Yet God became human, he changed his form, in order to save his people from stagnation and death.  The angel tells the shepherds, “I bring you good news of great joy, your savior is born today.”  God doesn’t change, yet God is still speaking and revealing himself to us in new ways.  As God reveals himself in new ways, we sing new songs.  Your understanding of God should not be the same as it was thirty years ago.  Your faith is something that should also grow and change over time.  A stagnant faith is one that’s going to fade.  So, perhaps a better question to ask while looking back on this year isn’t what’s changed, but what is your new song?  How has God been at work in your life this year?  What new thing has God done?  How has God changed you?  Not how has life changed you, or how have your circumstances changed you, or how have you changed yourself, but which changes were the ones that were brought about by God’s hand?  And have you sung your new song yet? 
Sometimes we miss who we were, and we grieve for who we used to be.  Other times we don’t, because it’s been a good, needed change, like rehab or weight loss or new marriage or new baby.  We’re not who we used to be, and Christmas, a time when we like things to stay the same, throws into sharp relief what is different.  Luke 2, the story of Jesus’ birth is the same.  It hasn’t changed.  But you have changed since the last time you heard it.  And so rather than us reading Scripture, we let God’s Word read us, and interpret us, and it tells us to sing a new song, along with the angels and the shepherds.  Nostalgia is normal, but if it’s been 30 years, or even 5 years, you need a new wardrobe.  Grieve and remember for a time the changes, just don’t stay there – there’s a baby to welcome! God changed, “the Word took on flesh”[2], and so we are to sing a new song.  

(P.S. Go Royals!)



[1] Hebrews 13:8
[2] John 1:14