1st Sunday of Advent
December 2, 2018
Isaiah 2:1-4; 9:2, 6-7
(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TptRqsvGZHo )
(Or watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TptRqsvGZHo )
I don’t know about you, but my week felt full of things
outside of my control. A loved one called with the news that they have to
change how they treat their chronic disease. A member from my first
congregation that I served was deported back to Mexico. Mr. Al, as we know, is
getting closer and closer to seeing Jesus face to face. A kid on the school bus
said something mean to my daughter that she won’t talk about. My anxiety has
been higher this week and I have felt helpless in each of these situations that
pull on the heart strings. The truth is that I haven’t actually been helpless. I’ve prayed and I’ve
listened and I’ve cried and I’ve waited and I’ve journaled and I’ve said, “I
love you.” I’ve done what I can, the best I can. Yet I could not control the
outcome of any of these situations. All I could do was listen and pray and hug and
hope. And at least once this week, with each of these things, I felt anxious. I
know I’m supposed to be a calm presence as your pastor, but I will confess that
I am not always inwardly calm. I do my best to work out my anxiety on my own so
that I can be calm around you. But if you’d found me at certain moments this
past week, you would have found me in tears.
And then this morning’s theme is peace. That tends to be
how God works. A few years ago when I was getting ready to preach on Naaman and
his leprosy, I got my own skin rash, poison ivy. The week I’m supposed to
preach on peace, I was not inwardly at peace. We decided last summer to use this
Advent worship series commemorating the 200th anniversary of “Silent
Night.” The song first debuted on Christmas Eve of 1818 in Austria, although
Joseph Mohr had actually written the words two years earlier. Before Christmas
Eve 1818, Joseph Mohr, a priest, took the words to Franz Gruber, a schoolmaster
and organist in a neighboring town, and asked him to compose an accompaniment
so that they could use it for Christmas Eve mass. Churches around the world
sing this song at Christmastime, lighting candles, and somehow making a
sanctuary full of people feel like a close-knit family, somehow transforming
whatever else is going on into a time of peace. “All is calm, all is
bright.”
You heard me mention at the beginning of the service
about the Christmas Truce of World War I. Soldiers on the Western Front held a
ceasefire for the holiday. And in the quiet, in the silence, in the calm, they
could hear each other singing “Silent Night, Holy Night.” Recognizing from the
melody that they were each singing the same Christmas carol in their native
languages, they came out and met on the battlefield, not with weapons but with
soccer balls and small gifts to give each other. Soldiers from opposite sides
in the war came out and did this. Talk about a Christmas miracle, facilitated
by this hymn! Talk about a time of truly “heavenly peace,” when God managed to
bring about a peace that the soldiers could not.
Each week we’re going to focus on a different verse. This
being the first week of Advent, we’re looking at the first verse. First verses
are often more well-known than the rest, in just about any hymn. And the theme
for this morning is peace, as the verse ends by saying twice, “Sleep in heavenly peace.” Heavenly peace is different than
earthly peace. When Jesus tries to prepare his disciples for his leaving and
the coming of the Holy Spirit, an event around which the disciples have a lot
of anxiety and zero control, one of the things Jesus tells them is “Peace I
leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and
do not be afraid.”[1] Jesus
gives them his peace. Jesus’ peace is
different. Jesus’ peace isn’t defined by what’s lacking. It’s not the absence
of conflict. Jesus’ peace is known for what it is, by itself, regardless of
what’s going on. Jesus’ peace is calmness, quietness, and tranquility. And that
can happen even in the midst of conflict, even in the middle of a storm, even
in the middle of events going on around you that are outside your control. Jesus’
peace isn’t a lack of something; it
is something in its own right, all by itself.
When Jesus gives his peace to his disciples, they are not
at peace. They’re really worried about where Jesus is going. They’ve left everything to follow him, and now he
says he’s leaving them?? Sure, Jesus
says he’s going to prepare a place for them, and he’s going to send the Holy
Spirit, but they want Jesus here and now, in the flesh. This is the King
they’ve risked all to serve. Jesus says he’s not going to leave them orphans.
He’s going to send the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Comforter. And Jesus
gives them his peace.
Perhaps the most well-known description of Jesus’ peace
is what Paul writes to the Philippians. Among other instructions, Paul tells
them, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and
petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of
God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds
in Christ Jesus.”[2]
God’s peace is beyond our understanding. And we’ve seen people like this,
people who are calm even in the midst of the storm going on in their lives. They
say, “Yes, this is all going on. Yes, it is painful. Yes, it’s requiring a lot
of change. But, my faith isn’t in the storm or the wind or the waves. My faith
is in the God who created them. My faith is in the one who made the heavens and
the earth. And I will not be shaken. Yes, there is injustice and pain and
suffering and the world is not as it should be. That’s why I choose to join God
in the work of redeeming the world, and I can’t do that well if I’m freaking
out. I cannot enter this next season of my life well if I’m looking at the
wind. It’s easy to look at the water and pay attention to the feel of the wind
on your face. I love it on a good day. But in a storm I need to pay attention
to the feel of Jesus holding me safe, the feel of his arms around me, the feel
of the cup of his hand on my cheek. Jesus is my rock and I will not be moved.” That’s
the peace that passes understanding. That’s the peace that Jesus offers. That’s
the peace we so often feel when we sing “Silent Night” and hold our candles on
Christmas Eve. God’s got this. I’m not in control. My choice isn’t whether or
not to control a given situation; my choice is whether or not to join God in
the work of redeeming the situation. And there’s peace in that.
Jesus’ peace is different than the peace that others
offer. Others offer a ceasefire; Jesus offers a chance to build a bridge and
literally get to know the person you were shooting at yesterday. Jesus’ peace
isn’t about just putting down weapons and hurtful words; his peace is about
transformation. Look again at what we read from Isaiah 2. “Many peoples will
come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of
the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.’
The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He will
judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will
beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.”[3]
The swords and the spears, these instruments of destruction, don’t get destroyed. The weapons don’t
simply get laid down, or put away, either. They get changed. They are transformed. Weapons of killing and
destruction are not killed and destroyed. They’re changed from instruments of
death into instruments of life. They become plowshares, the main cutting blade
of a plow, and pruning hooks, both things that are necessary for new life.
Swords and spears become items that are used for growth and cultivation and
life. God redeems them and uses them for good. Rather than their original
purpose of cutting down, God uses them for building up. Jesus’ peace isn’t just
refraining from saying harsh words and putting away harmful things; it’s
changing them into kind words and helpful things.
So,
how can we transform our chaos and anxiety and divisions into calm and peace
and bridges? How do get there, even before we sing “Silent Night” on Christmas
Eve? More importantly, how can we do that all year long? Comfort items, like a baby
blanket, can be helpful. Be at least a little wary of comfort food, because it
tends to be full of carbs and sugar, but I get it, if that’s your thing. I
shared with some of you, the night after I got home from visiting Al when he
received the news about the terminal cancer, I baked brownies. That wasn’t just
for the carbs and the chocolate, though; baking is a stress reliever for me.
Know what your stress relievers are, and do them, especially the healthy ones. Also
know that relieving stress is different than escapism. Alcohol is an easy
example. One drink to take the edge off is different than drinking to the point
of blacking out. And for an alcoholic, one drink is one drink too many, period.
Know your limits, know your triggers. And more important than all this, know
Jesus and accept the peace he offers you. It’s peace that might bring you out
of your foxhole to go meet with the person in the foxhole on the other side.
It’s peace that might just say, come, rest in me, and you take every opportunity
you have to come to church and join in the community.
Where
I found it this past week was on Thursday. Being commissioned, but not fully
ordained, I’m required to go to monthly all day meetings for a program called
“Residency in Ministry.” The morning session is ideally on something helpful,
like leading a congregation through change, or better understanding the
ordination process. The afternoon session we break into small groups with a
leader who’s another pastor in the Conference and what’s shared is confidential.
My small group works well together, and we begin the afternoon by each checking
in. I went last this past week, and putting into words all that I had been
feeling during the week, the reasons for the anxiety, and then sharing all that
in a safe space, naming it out loud, was really helpful. Another thing that’s
helped is an Advent song that is about waiting for Jesus, and not anticipatory,
excited waiting, but a waiting that is longing. Waiting that has some lament to
it. I may share the song at the Longest Night service.
This Advent season, as we prepare for a baby who is born
a King, as we get ready for Jesus to be born anew, I invite you to spend more
intentional time with the one who is called the Prince of Peace. In Isaiah 9,
we read that “Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no
end.” One more way Jesus’ peace is different. There is endless peace in his
kingdom. It’s not going to run out. It’s not a temporary truce or time out.
It’s a permanent way of being in the world. Be at peace. With yourself, with
others, with the world around you. It doesn’t mean you agree with everyone or
condone what’s going on. It means you know it’s beyond your control but it’s
not beyond God’s. Pray for God to change the world. Pray for God to overcome
the divisions and the hatred and the name-calling. And then do you part in
helping God to redeem the world. When faced with the choice of acting in love
or in spite, choose love. And ask God for the strength to love when you’re not
sure you can, because you’ve found yourself face-to-face with the soldier in
the foxhole from the enemy side. Heavenly peace is not the same as earthly
peace. Thank heaven!
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