December 17, 2006

The Third Sunday of Advent

WOW!

Philippians 4:4-8

The Reverend Richard E. Allen, Jr.

  

In a hospital in Brooklyn almost two years ago now, my little friend Lukas was born.  His mother, Jenn, and his father, Mike, dote on Lukas.   A tech-savvy mother, Jenn has a mother’s love and a journalist’s passion.  That’s good, because about a year ago, Mike, Jenn, and Lukas moved to Nashville, so the only way to stay in touch is via Jenn’s email reports.  In fact, every month since Lukas arrived, a number of us have received an update on his remarkable progress.  The first sentences of her email set the tone for the rest.  Jenn began,  “The word for the month is ‘Wow!’  That’s what Lukas says every time we drive by Christmas lights at night or turn on the lights on our tree.”

 

If you suspect that I use that story to remind us to use this Advent season to keep the “wow” in our lives of faith, and to use the observations of 21-month old Lukas to remind us to keep alert for the miracle of God’s hand in our daily meanderings, you’re partly right.  It’s a good thing to keep “wow” in Christmas, and it is true that doing so means staying open for signs of God’s presence.  Though it’s trite to say so, we can all use a little of the child’s heart at this season, lest we become cynical and dispirited at the time when we most need a joyful spirit.

 

With the wisdom of centuries of tradition, the church anticipates the need for a lift just now.  As Advent lingers and the sun dips in the sky so that even the shadows of mid-day stretch across the road when we drive, the church knows we need something of a lift.  So this week’s Advent word is synonymous with the one Lukas has recently found.  Our theme for today is “joy.”  This lightening of mood is even reflected on our Advent wreath, less a decoration than a discipline, for today we light the pink candle.  We are ready for joy.

 

The lesson from the obscure Hebrew prophet Zepahaniah continues the theme. 

 

“Sing aloud, O daughter Zion;” says the prophet, “shout, O Israel!

  “Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!

  “The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. …

   “he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love….”

 

Even God is rejoicing, says Zephaniah, as the people settle into a world of security, hope, and peace.

 

But the joy of our faith is about more than cheers in the darkness.  When the darkness is real, as real as the enemies haunting the shadows of the gates of Jerusalem, then the prophecy cannot be mere bravado in the face of gathering gloom.  When the darkness settles in; when our families get the call from the nursing home or the hospital; when our children need protection in a world full of entertainments and distractions of all kinds yet lacking in purpose or holiness; when our churches tremble because the glory days are gone, and pews once filled are empty and nearby church sanctuaries are sold to become antique shops; in those very times and countless other shadowy times like them, we might find ourselves needing more than childlike cheer to find a bit of joy. 

 

Perhaps that’s as it should be, for joy is not merely good cheer, not merely the happiness of parties, of eggnog and cider and favorite Christmas CD’s.  True joy, the joy of Christ, goes much deeper, to the very heart of the world.  So St. Paul says, writing the Philippians in today’s lesson.  “Rejoice in the Lord always,” says Paul.  And then he repeats himself, “again I will say, Rejoice.”  Though at the beginning of the letter he has spoken of his “imprisonment,” still he reminds this new congregation of newly formed Christians not to be dissuaded from their faith by either his dire circumstance or their own struggles as a community of believers.  “The Lord is near,” he reminds himself even as he reminds them.  “Do not worry about anything….  The peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (4:4-7)

 

Friends, here is the heart of the Christian message. It is not a message of prosperity, though some would make it so: “Send in your money, and God will reward your seed faith with prosperity and happiness and joy.”  Nor is the gospel merely an earlier way of singing “Don’t worry. Be happy.”  No.  There is more of substance here than mere advice, no matter how cheery or upbeat.  This word from Paul, and from the Lord trumps the trivial advice, “Just believe, and everything will be okay.” 

 

Ours is no easy gospel; not at all.  For Paul, some prison doors open, and some do not. He is ultimately bound for a Roman jail, our brother Paul, and bound for a Roman trial before a Roman judge, where, finally, in the “eternal” city he enters eternity through the portal of a Roman execution. 

 

Even as he writes this letter from prison, Paul knows something of what he faces.  His word is neither casual optimism nor pious neglect of very real problems.  Rather, for Paul (and for us, too) the joy of faith is not that all is well all the time, but that we are in God’s loving hands all the time, whether things around us are well or not.  And no matter what the circumstance, we have access to joy.  Yes, we live in God’s grace, whatever the circumstance.  Or, as Paul says elsewhere “whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” (Rom. 14:8)

 

Our joy, therefore, is not because of the incidental details of our current lives.  Rather, for us, joy is the gift of God to the faithful.  And it is a free gift, whatever the situation.  And here, even in chains, Paul reminds the church that “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (4:7)  Commenting on this section, New Testament scholar Fred Craddock notes that Paul is describing a militant peace, a quality that is more gift than decision.  He says, “The peace which the church can know, the sense that all is well, does not have its source within – there is dissension – nor without – there is opposition – but in God.  In a striking paradox, Paul describes this peace with a military term:  The peace of God ‘will stand sentry watch’ over your hearts and minds.” (Craddock, Philippians, page 72)  The gospel of the Lord, and the heart of our true joy in this and every season, is that God does keep watch for us all.

 

Whenever I begin to worry about our life together, I recall that God is keeping watch, and I remember a story of the hermit who planted a tree to the glory of God, then he forgot about it.  When a friend asked what he was doing to it, for it was obviously growing well, the hermit said, “Actually, I don’t do a thing.  But every day I tell the Lord, ‘It’s your tree now.  You take care of it.’  And God does.”  For me, that story is an admonition to accepting the grace of God as the free gift that it is.  We are to be engaged in life, but we ultimately do not control most of our lives.  But God does, the God who keeps watch for all.

 

At the beginning, I told you part of the story about Lukas, and his parents, Jenn and Mike.  Lukas, twenty-one months old now, is discovering Christmas lights for the first time, and his word is “Wow!”  Shortly after I received the email, I talked with Jenn on the phone, and I could hear Lukas in the background, obviously delighted.   Jenn explained, “I just turned on the lights on the tree.”

 

But there’s a bit more to the story of Lukas and his family.  That he delights in Christmas is joyful for all of us on Jenn and Mike’s distribution list.  We delight in the emails and the pictures that come with them, because we remember a time when we wondered if Lukas would ever see Christmas at all.  Either during or just after his birth, nearly two years ago now, while all around him celebrated the joy his arrival, Lukas had what amounted to a stroke, damaging a good part of the left side of his brain.  Less than 24 hours old, he was rushed into the neonatal intensive care unit.  He struggled to live.  Mike and Jenn and scores of people began to pray.  Lukas lived. 

 

And he has thrived. He has very little use of his right side, but slowly the part of his brain that survived its initial injury compensates for the damaged half.  And, to Lukas, even this challenged life, is a gift.  Thus his joy.  Lukas doesn’t know the names of all of us who are pulling for him, but he must know that he is surrounded by the love of a

 

God “keeping sentry watch” over his life.  Jenn’s aware of that presence, too, so after noting Lukas’ “wow” response to Christmas, her email continues:  “’Wow’ is a pretty fair statement of how we feel.  Most of the time it is, ‘wow, I can’t believe how much progress he’s made’, and sometimes [it is], ‘wow, this is a very long road.’”  I am confident that Jenn celebrates that the road is not lonely, but inhabited by strong friends and an even stronger God.

 

Our joy is not just about noticing the good things of life.  Our joy, in Christ, is founded on our trust that whatever life brings, we are in the hands of a God who loves us without reservation.  As individuals, as a church, as a world, when Paul the apostle invites us to stand and sing, with him, “Rejoice,” we do so not because our way is either simple or painless, but because our way is never alone, and the way leads to an eternally prepared table in a house not made with hands.

 

As you come to the table to receive the goodness of the Lord’s grace in our sacrament of communion, remember it is true that the bread and the wine are given for you.  Hear and remember.  This is the body of Christ.  Given for you.  For you.  God’s very self, given for you.  Receive this simple reminder of God’s goodness today.

 

And rejoice. Again I say, Rejoice! 

 

Or maybe the word is “Wow!”