A Christmas Transformation - Isaiah

Read Isaiah 52.7-10

We gather tonight as a broken people, a city laid bare and left in ruin. Our Advent preparations began with just a glimmer of hope. A candle, a small flicker of light perched on a far away hill in the darkness of a moonless night, was all the hope we had. But we held fast to our hope. We kept our eyes on the light. The candle-light got brighter and nearer. Our hope drew closer. The darkness of night began to fade as the sun began its ascent in the eastern skies. The black of night yielded way to the vivid purples and blues of the early pre-dawn hours. The purples and blues made way for dawn’s brilliant shades of pink smeared across the sky.

Now as the sun rises, we see the candle. A messenger carries it. He is close, very close. We can see his face. We can see his feet. O how we have waited for news. But look… look at his feet! They are not stumbling clumsily. No! They are swiftly and gently striding ever closer. The news. It must be good! And look his face it is not filled with pain and exhaustion as we expect. No! It is filled with awe and with joy. In fact, look closer, that is not a messenger – it is the Lord! Toll the bells! Sound the alarms! Break into joyful song! The Lord is here! The king for whom we so anxiously waited is here! Pass on the news. The city will be rebuilt! We will be restored! Life can now return! The Lord has come – the Lord has won our peace, our redemption, and our victory!

No more watching. No more waiting. No more preparing. Today is the day of celebration! With this image, we bring to a close our Advent with Isaiah. After four long weeks of hope, our hope is now fulfilled. After four weeks of longing for peace, peace is now ours. After four weeks of loving and joyous preparation, it is now time to celebrate!

Often, when we think of things like redemption and salvation, we jump straight to Easter. It’s almost like a game of theological monopoly. Go straight to Easter. Do not pass Christmas. Do not give much attention to Christ’s coming at Christmas. This idea, however, is quite foreign to Old Testament prophets, New Testament evangelists, and Early Church fathers alike.

Consider Isaiah. It is at the Lord’s coming that he brings good news of peace and salvation. Consider the Christmas story according to St. John. “The word became flesh and dwelt among us… From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace. The law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.” Consider St. Athanasius, who told us, “he became what we are, that we might become what he is,” or St. John of Damascus who vehemently fought to make sure it is clear that Christ, in his coming, made our transformation possible. Salvation, Sanctification, Holiness, real life transformation has everything to do with the coming of Christ at Christmas.

Christmas is not warm fuzzies, hot chocolate, gifts, and family. None of those really has anything to do with Christmas. Christmas, or Christ’s mass, has everything to do with our worship of the one who made possible the transformation of the ordinary into the holy. Christmas has every to do with worshipping the one who made possible our sanctification. Christ came. The divine became flesh. The night became day. The lame walked, the deaf heard, the blind saw, the speechless shouted “Glory to God,” and the dead were brought to life. The sinner became saint, as the flesh became divine.

How beautiful indeed, are the feet of him who brings peace, proclaims good news, and provides salvation. Did you catch the transformation? How beautiful are the feet. If Christ’s coming can transform those dirty, sweaty, dusty, stinky feet into things of sheer beauty, imagine what his coming can do in our world and in your life. And that, my friends, is the reason for the season... And that my friends is reason to celebrate! To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Advent: A Season of Joy - Isaiah 7.10-17

One of my favorite places on earth is Virginia Beach. I don’t know why I like it so much. I think maybe because it is closer, cheaper and much less crowded than some other beaches I’ve been to. Antonina and I went there for our honeymoon and had a wonderful time. We returned this past year on our 5th anniversary, so it has many fond memories for us. This year was a first for both of us. We got flooded out of our campsite!

Since we were tent camping, we didn’t watch a lot of news or hear a lot of weather. The morning was bright and sunny, so we hopped the trolley and headed off to the beach. We played in the surf, and baked in the sand. We played in the surf some more and then we heard the whistles. It was the lifeguards. They were calling everyone out of the water. When we looked back at shore, we saw a dark black sky directly to our west. We hurried to get dried off. We scurried about trying to pack up our bag. We rushed back up to the trolley trying to make it back to camp before the rain because I left the tent windows open!

Before we got to the trolley however, the skies burst forth in the most torrential downpour I’ve ever witnessed. The rain was coming in sideways as the winds howled. The sky was mostly dark, but was brightened by the frequent lightning. It was raining so hard, in fact, that the trolleys quit running because they couldn’t see to drive. The problem was that none of them stopped at the pick up point. There we were, standing in the rain, soaked through our skin and down to our bones.

A trolley finally arrived, and when it did, everyone pushed to get on. I am fairly sure it was fuller than is safe, and I am quite certain it was fuller than was comfortable. We got on toward the front, but as people kept piling on, it got fuller and fuller, until I just wanted off the trolley all together.

Do you ever feel too crowded? So crowded it might just be easier to jump off the trolley all together? So crowded it might just be easier to give in? So crowded you just want to throw your hands up and say, “fine…you win”? As I look around at our world today, it seems like this time of the year is one of those times where we feel pushed from every direction. Consider Advent. Advent really has all the makings of a truly spectacular season. It is my personal favorite. It has all the beauty Christmas celebration, yet it is quiet and serene. I liken Advent to the first big snow where all is quiet and still, and all is well in the world and in our souls.

But when was the last time you could really embrace the quiet of Advent? It never happens. It seems that Advent is usually skipped altogether. We are pushed right into Christmas. The Christmas sales make their debut on Thanksgiving, and these days, it seems the music and decorations start even before that. The pressure is so early, and so intense that by the time we get to the 25th we are ready for it to be over and we still have almost two weeks of Christmas celebration left to go. We’ve got so much to do that the silence, the serenity, and the beauty of Advent preparation just seem to get pushed right out by the busyness of Christmas.

And speaking of things getting pushed out, I’m sure you’ve noticed how it seems Christ can so easily be pushed out of Christmas. If it weren’t bad enough that we push Advent right out the way to get to Christmas earlier than we ought, we are pressured even more to push the Christ-child out of the season that bears his name. Parades, Santa, Jingle bells, reindeer, snowmen, family and if I hear “Happy Holidays” one more time I think I’m going to explode. Not that I don’t understand, not that I’m unsympathetic and not even that I really mind so much. It’s just the pressure. All the pressure. Everything builds up, and pushes me over the edge sometimes. It just gets to me. Sometimes I just want to give in and celebrate the holidays from Thanksgiving to December 25. Enjoy Rudolf, Santa and all the elves, eat lots of candy, drink lots of eggnog, travel to see family and wish everyone a hearty “Happy Holidays!” Maybe then I’ll not get so tightly strung. Wouldn’t it just be easier to get off the trolley?

Then I come to Advent passages like today’s reading from Isaiah 7.10-17.

Now to really get the impact of Isaiah’s words, we must understand a little of the geography and a little of the politics. Israel is now a divided kingdom. There is the southern kingdom and the northern kingdom. The southern kingdom is known as Judah. The northern kingdom is Israel, although it is also often referred to (as it is in this passage) as Ephraim. Each kingdom is independent and each kingdom has its own king. The king of Judah is Ahaz and the king of Ephraim, we are told, is the son of Remaliah. Two kingdoms, two kings.

Now, lets just say that Judah is represented by Belmont County, and Ephraim, or Israel, is represented by Jefferson County. There are a couple other players in our story. The first is Aram. Aram was just to the north of Ephraim, and their king was Rezin. They will be represented by Columbiana County. So now we have Belmont, Jefferson and Columbiana Counties: all independent, all with their own kings. The final player is Assyria. Assyria is a mighty empire. It is not a single nation like Judah, Ephraim and Aram. It is a mighty Empire. It is not a small county like Belmont, Jefferson and Columbiana. It is more like a state, like Western Pennsylvania.

So now, you have a rough picture of the geography in the region. Next, we need to imagine the political pressure in the area. Assyria is trying to strengthen and enlarge its empire. It is moving south and west. It has its eyes set on the valley. Particularly, it is moving in on Aram and Ephraim. Jefferson and Columbiana have no chance alone so they join forces. They realize their chances are still slim against the force of Western PA so they come down to Belmont to see if Belmont will join the cause. It seems like a good idea, but there is one hitch. YHWH told Ahaz, the king of Belmont to keep out of it.

And so scene is set for the filling of the trolley. The kings from Aram and Ephraim are threatening Ahaz if he refuses to join them. He doesn’t want to join them. He knows he shouldn’t join them. But he is afraid not to join them. All the pressure from Aram and Ephraim is filling the trolley where Ahaz is being smushed. On top of that, times are tough. Judah is facing economic and agricultural shortage. The land of milk and honey has dried up. Perhaps joining Aram and Ephraim would get his people some food. Perhaps the land could flow with milk and honey again. The pressure builds. The trolley fills. Ahaz just wants to get off.

Just as the trolley is getting too full, and Ahaz is about to push open the doors and jump off, the prophet comes with a message. Ahaz is to ask the Lord for a sign. But Ahaz knows no one should test the Lord and so he refuses. The situation is so dire that the Lord gives Ahaz a sign anyway. What was that sign? The sign was a child. There is a young woman, we are told, who is presumably known to both Isaiah and Ahaz and who is pregnant. She will very soon give birth to a son. It will be known that the son is a sign from God, and before the son knows right from wrong he will be eating milk and honey in the land. And before the son knows right from wrong, the kings of Aram and Ephraim will both be gone. And before the son knows right from wrong Aram and Ephraim will be exiled to Assyria.

The boy is a sign of God’s presence in Judah. Ahaz must not align Judah with Ephraim. Ahaz must not give in to the pressure. Ahaz must not jump off the trolley. If he does, Judah will suffer the same fate as Aram and Ephraim. If he resists, however, the land will once again prosper. Ahaz must not feel the pressure; he must watch the baby! He must watch the baby and find hope and peace, and love and joy! He must watch the baby!

Watch the baby! What a profound sign. In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Matthew quoted from Isaiah. He took the sign that was given to Ahaz and reinterpreted it as a sign to the world. To a world mired in sin, to a world pressured by evil, to a world where hope is in short supply, where peace is not to be found, where people need love more than ever, God promises a sign. It is a sign of joy. We need not live in sin. We need not be overcome by evil. We do have hope, we can have peace, we are all loved! It is found in watching the baby.

As I reflect on the season Advent, and what it means, and all the pressure we feel to push Advent out early to celebrate Christmas prematurely, I think of the baby Antonina and I have been blessed with. I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago after our last ultrasound. He asked me how much our baby weighed and I told him. He said to me, “your baby is already 6 oz heavier than my son weighed when he was born at 32 weeks.” They had alot of difficulties with their pregnancy, and the baby was born very earth. It occurred to me that we could have our baby any time. It could come early just like Brennan did. I am glad though that I get to wait. Every day I grow even more excited. Every day I feel the baby do things I could never have imagined. Every day that goes by is a better chance that both Antonina and the baby will be healthy. Every day that goes by is another day to prepare our home for the coming of the baby. Every day that goes by my joy is increased. I could jump the gun and wish the baby was here now, but then I think of all the joy I’d miss…the joy that only comes with waiting, and anticipating, and watching the baby.

When I reflect on Christmas, and what it means, and all the pressure we feel to push Christ out of Christmas, I am given a sign: watch the baby. Keep firmly focused on the child. Christmas is a time for worship. All the food, all the presence, all the parades, and reindeer and snowmen are nice. St. Nicholas is wonderful, and we all love to get home for the holidays. But amidst all that we must watch the baby. Christmas, before anything else, is a day – a season – of worshipping the baby in the manger. God’s gift of love to us. Christmas is all about the family of God gathering for a celebration of incarnation. Christmas is about the Church gathering to proclaim to the world that they don’t have to get off the trolley. They don’t have to be overcome by the pressures of life. It is about gathering as God’s family, proclaiming with one voice that there was once a virgin who gave birth to a son, and he is known as Immanuel, which means, “God is with us.” It is about gathering as Christ’s Church, proclaiming with one voice that there is hope – that there is peace – that God is love – and that in him is joy…if only we will watch the baby. To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Advent: A Season of Love - Isaiah 35.1-10

our choir cantata was this Sunday so the sermon was a bit brief

READ ISAIAH 35.1-10

Did you hear the wondrous way Isaiah communicated Judah’s hope? “There will be an abundance of flowers and singing for joy.” Hasn’t the singing being a tremendous source of worship this morning? And if you were perceptive, you also noticed our new decorations this week. Poinsettias! We have a few here on the steps. We have a few in the window sills. Now we just need some in our trees. You know, I bet our kids can help us with that…

We have seen it over and over again in our Advent readings. The first week we looked at swords and spears melted down and remade into plows and pruning shears. The second week we watched as the lion and the lamb laid down together. This week the transforming work of God continues. We cannot miss it. Isaiah wastes no time getting to the point. To make sure we don’t miss it, he repeats himself – not once, not twice, but three times in the first two verses. He tells us of wilderness, and desert, and wasteland. Three clear images of dustiness, dryness, and overall lifelessness. Like last week’s dead and rotten stump, hope streams forth. In the midst of death and decay, in the land of dryness and desolation, the Messiah shall come and shall spring forth life. Flowers will begin to sprout and the hills will come alive with the sound of music – joyful songs of praise. To drive home the point, Isaiah matches the three places of lifelessness with three places full of abundant life: Lebanon, Mt Caramel, and Sharon. The wilderness will become green like Lebanon. The desert will become as lovely as Mt Caramel. The wasteland will become as fruitful as the plane of Sharon. Yet again, the prophet casts a vision of restoration and life in broken and dying world.

This week’s lesson, however, goes a bit further. Whereas in weeks past the emphasis has been upon God’s transforming work in the world, Isaiah brings it home to tell of God’s transforming work in persons…just normal people like you and me. The tired will be strengthened! The weak will be encouraged! The blind will see! The deaf will hear! The lame will walk! And the speechless will burst out and join the hills in their songs of praise!

Jesus was asked, “Are you the Messiah – the one we’ve been expecting – or should we keep looking for someone else?” Jesus replied, quoting Isaiah, “Go back and tell him what you have seen and heard – the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor.” Yes, Jesus – the little child whose birth we so eagerly await – is the Messiah. And yes, He is coming to save you!

A charming story is told of Pepita, a poor Mexican girl who had no gift to present the Christ Child at Christmas Eve Services. As Pepita walked slowly to the chapel with her cousin Pedro, her heart was filled with sadness rather than joy.

"I am sure, Pepita, that even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes," said Pedro consolingly. Not knowing what else to do, Pepita knelt by the roadside and gathered a handful of common weeds, and fashioned them into a small bouquet. Looking at the scraggly bunch of weeds, she felt more saddened and embarrassed than ever by the humbleness of her offering. She fought back a tear as she entered the small village chapel.

As she approached the altar, she remembered Pedro's kind words: "Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes." She felt her spirit lift as she knelt to lay the bouquet at the foot of the nativity scene. Suddenly, the bouquet of weeds burst into blooms of brilliant red, and all who saw them were certain that they had witnessed a Christmas miracle right before their eyes.

From that day on, the bright red flowers were known as the Flores de Noche Buena, or Flowers of the Holy Night, for they bloomed each year during the Christmas season. Today, the common name for this plant is the poinsettia!

Many suggest that the red of the poinsettia is the red of the blood of Christ, and both remind us of God’s love for us. All this transformation we have been talking about is not some kind mysterious coincidence. It is a product of God’s love for each and every one of us. Kids, come and decorate our trees with poinsettias of God’s love. May each of your lives be transformed by the love of God that comes to us at Christmas, and may your homes be filled with an abundance of flowers and singing for joy this Advent season. To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Our hearts are strangely stirred this week as we our preparation continues this Advent, this season of peace. It is closely linked to our preparation in last week’s look at hope. Our hearts truly long for peace on earth, yet it has been an anything but peaceful week in our world. Perhaps your life was touched by the tragic news of our neighbor Nate loosing his legs in Iraq, or perhaps you’ve been moved by the national scene where the search for Stacy Peterson is eclipsed by a 19 year old’s act of desperation, killing several in an Omaha mall before taking his own life. We are daily reminded of our world’s desperate need for hope, and our short supply of peace.

Hear the Word of the Lord as we continue our “Advent with Isaiah.” Isaiah 11.1-10. Hear the Word of the Lord.

READ TEXT

This is one of the most vivid images of the kingdom of God given to us in all of scripture. It is also one of my favorites. How could you not like it? New life springing from a rotten stump; wisdom and righteousness and justice; and O, the peace! The wolf and the lamb live together; the leopard and goat rest together; the lion and the calf are friends; the cow and the bear graze together; the baby plays safely with the most feared snake; nothing will hurt or destroy on God’s holy mountain. It is so vivid and so beautiful. It is full of hope for a world of perfect peace. It is so idealistic – so surreal… perhaps even unreal.

We look back from our 21st century perspective and read Isaiah’s oracle as a foreshadowing of the coming of Christ. It might do us some good to take a look at life in Judah, where Isaiah lived, as we try to understand Isaiah’s oracle of peace. Judah has been around for a while. It has seen its share of kings. With each king comes a new sense of hope for a good world. The new king is anointed as God’s chosen leader. The new king is exalted as the one the Lord has anointed to lead his people. But, with each king comes just another disappointment. King after king, after king, fails to live up to the hope Judah had in their new kings reign. With every new king, the hopes that maybe this one will be different are rekindled. But soon those hopes are dashed, as the royal line of David looks less and less like a tree trunk that give life to all the twigs and leaves and nuts. Instead it increasingly looks like a dead and rotting stump, with no sign of life at all.

Does that sound at all familiar to any of us? Of course it does. It happens every four years here in America. We are smack in the middle of it right now. Women and men of every persuasion gather on stages across the country to convince us that they are the one who will bring change. They are the one who can restore American trust in the government. They are the one we should elect. We all buy it. We all line up behind the one we believe will return America to whatever it is we think it ought to be. We get all excited, our hope is renewed that this new president will finally be the one to bring peace to the middle east, the one who will finally bring the jobs back home, the one who will restore the educational system, reform the tax system, and repair the broken bureaucracy. Then our candidate wins, we are excited. Time wears on, the reality of our system take over, and this president, who was the ONE, is just another in the long line of disappointments. Our world and theirs are not so far apart.

It is in the midst of this cycle that Isaiah pens this oracle of peace. Many suggest that this oracle was a song of anointing used at the coronation of King Hezekiah. The line of David, that has grown to look like nothing more than a dead stump, is giving life yet again. A new branch has grown. The oracle then is seen as a song, a prayer, that this king, who God raised up, who God called out, and who God set apart might be the kind of leader the world really needs. This vision, this song, this prayer that at first glance seemed so idealistic, so surreal, even so unreal and impossible now seems much closer. Isaiah is not proclaiming, “Someday we believe God will do this.” Quite the contrary. Isaiah is suggesting that this is what God expects out of this king that is being crowned. It was not to be a distant hope; it was to be a divine expectation. It was not out there; it was right there.

The expectation was that God-raised leaders would be marked by the Spirit of the Lord. They would have notable gifts of the Spirit: wisdom… understanding… counsel… might… knowledge of the Lord… fear of the Lord. It was expected that those God chose to lead his world, God would also equip with the gifts necessary for being the king.

The expectation was that God-raised leaders would use their giftedness to reign according to God’s values. They would be obedient to God’s direction. They would be just as God is just, seeking first the wellbeing of the poor and the oppressed, the widow and the orphan. They would speak and act with the authority of God against all evil. They would be known for truthfulness and righteousness. It was expected that the divinely given gifts of the Spirit would be used to rule in God’s place, with God’s character, according to God’s values.

The expectation was that divinely gifted kings, ruling as God would rule, would lead Judah into a golden era of peace where all types of natural enemies would live together in peace. Wolves, leopards, lions, bears, O My! Those are pretty mean characters. They make a quick snack out of little things like baby sheep, baby goats, and baby cows. Yet, here they are living together, resting together, eating with each other, befriending each other. The most natural of opponents become the most natural of allies. Even people and snakes (which –if you remember the creation story - are divinely made enemies) are safe from one another. It was expected that the result of divine gifting and just ruling would initiate a peaceful reign.

So, how’d that work out for Judah? How’d that work out for Israel? Never did that divine expectation come to pass. The stump just got larger and deader, and the hope of a peaceful world died with it. Some unfortunate soul had the task of keeping an eye on the stump. The only life ever seen on the stump of the tree of Jesse was a bunch of moss covering one side of it like a velvet burbur, and the occasional creepy-crawler scurrying from one hole to the next.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the moss parted. Could it be? Could the impossible be once again possible? At Christmas, we celebrate the coming of God to earth in the person of Jesus Christ. The coming of Christ brought hope to the world. Hope for peace. The good news for today’s world is that God sent us a king who fulfills all the messianic expectations. The challenge is that Christ came and passed on his rule to us.

At the beginning, we noted the similarity of the despair and hopelessness Judah felt with their kings and that we often feel with our presidents. There is a glaring difference. God raised up Judah’s kings to carry out his rule, he did not however, raise up the American Presidents to carry out his rule. God raised up his church to lead the world to him. Christ was divinely gifted by the Spirit of God, at Pentecost that gifting was passed on to us. Christ revealed to us God’s plan for leading: with obedience, justice, righteousness. Those same mandates are passed on to us. In Christ, we, like all of Judah’s kings of old, have each been raised up and called out and set apart to do Christ’s work bringing reconciliation and peace to the world.

During this season of peace, the degree to which Isaiah’s vision of peace becomes reality is largely dependent on us. How will we lead the world?

Will we lead with obedience? Total obedience? Remember, obedience cost Christ his life. To what extent will we obey?

Will we lead with justice? Not the justice of this world that seeks vengeance and revenge? Christ showed us that justice means leveling the playing field: giving a voice to the voiceless, giving hope to the hopeless, caring for those the world has forgotten, and lifting up those the world beats down. Whose justice will we seek?

Will we lead with righteousness? Not self-righteousness, not works’ righteousness. Christ showed us the way of righteousness is faithfulness, humility, sacrifice, service. We are righteous only because he is righteous. We are righteous only as we are in him? Whose righteousness will we embody?

We all long for peace, but are we willing to work for it? We all long for peace, but what are we willing to sacrifice for it? The good news this morning is that Christ came, and made the supreme sacrifice that we might have peace. The challenge this morning is going and being agents of Christ’s peace in the world. Some say that peace is impossible. I say God becoming human is impossible. I say virgin births are impossible. I say living a 100% sinless life is impossible. I say resurrection is impossible. But I also say in Christ the impossible becomes very possible. So let us join, this season of peace, join with all Christ’s people all around the world and with all the angels of heaven in the age old song of “peace on earth, good will to all the people of the earth!” To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Advent...A Season of Hope

They say that survival is part physical, but mostly mental. First, you must imagine yourself surviving. What will life be like? What will you do when you get home? Make a picture in your mind. Once you have survived, what will you do? See? Smell? Taste? Feel? Hear? You must create an alternative reality. You must find hope. Our Old Testament Lesson, this morning, begins a several week look at Advent in Isaiah. Today we will be reading Isaiah 2.1-5. Hear the Word of the Lord.

READ TEXT

Did you see the story in the news this week about the cruise ship that sank in the Antarctic waters?

Can you even begin to imagine being aboard that cruise liner as it began navigating the iceberg infested waters of Antarctica like a crumb floating atop a glass of ice-water? The jolt from the ship striking a submerged iceberg hard enough to put a massive hole in the hull must have rattled the passengers’ bones as well. The sound of the bilge pumps working overtime…the sensation of rocking and sinking…the urgency of getting all 91 passengers fitted with life jackets, into life boats, and evacuated the ship must have been just a little stressful! We made it off the boat, but now we find ourselves afloat, not in a luxury liner with all the amenities of home and shelter from the elements, but rather aboard small rowboats with only bare necessities and no protection from the Antarctic weather. How do you survive? You keep hope. Aboard those tiny dinghies, the passengers found hope. It took the shape of another cruise liner on the horizon. They saw hope, and they kept their eyes fixed on their hope. And O the joy of finally being rescued…finally being plucked out of the grip of an otherwise sure death.

This morning we celebrate “Advent: a season of hope.” If survival requires a vivid, hope-giving, mental image, then the prophet Isaiah is presenting it here. His oracle tells of a day when the Lord’s house will be built upon the tallest mountain. When the mountain will be a crowded highway filled with people from every nation coming up to worship the Lord. All the people coming up will be sharing the mountain with the Word of the Lord that is streaming down the mountain to nourish and instruct all the peoples of the earth. God will be a wise and just judge, not a mighty warrior or a divine executioner. And because of God’s mercy and wisdom, because of God’s word that flows down the mountain, the people of the earth will begin learning the ways of the Lord instead of the warring ways their world taught them. They will put away their swords. They will melt down their weapons that once brought death and destruction to the face of the earth. They will forge from them instruments of life and health and growth.

I suspect this is the kind of image that might just give a people hope. A small, war-torn, oppressed nation like Israel would have heard this and broke out in song: What a day that will be, when our Jesus we shall see, when we look upon His face, the one who saved us by his grace. When he takes us by the hand and leads us to the Promised Land, what a day, glorious day that will be! Is that hope or what?

Israel had hope that one day the Messiah would come, that the Messiah would make all things right, that the Messiah would restore the world, and that all would be as it ought to be. But here is the rub for us, as it was for many Jews of His day: Jesus has come, but there is no high mountain; people are not streaming upward to worship; it seems the Word of the Lord falls on deaf ears; our world is as violent and evil as ever.

Enter Advent. Yes, the season of Advent is directly aimed at preparing our lives for the coming of Christ, a lowly baby in a manger, at Christmas. It is also aimed, however at making preparations for the coming of Christ, a majestic king upon his throne, at the second coming. Advent serves us as both a beginning and an end. It is the beginning of our yearly journey through the life of Christ as we echo the words of John the Baptist, the voice calling out in the wilderness, “Prepare a way for the Lord.” It is also the end of our yearly journey through the life of Christ as we echo the words of John the Revelator calling, “Look! He is coming on the clouds every eye will see him!” Advent reminds us that the Kingdom of God is already here. It was inaugurated by Christ in his first coming. Advent also reminds us that the Kingdom of God is not yet here. It will only be fulfilled by Christ in his second coming. There is hope for our world yet!

So often, we read the pages of Holy Scripture and have a hard time identifying with context. We are so far removed from biblical times that it is nearly impossible for us to see ourselves in the text. They were nomadic; we are settled. They were agrarian; we are industrial. They spent days walking from one town to the next, we hop in the car and drive across the state and back in a few hours. The cultural differences are so vast it sometimes seems impossible to bridge the wide divide between their world and ours, but Advent is a season where the ground is leveled. Many of the issues Israel faced, are still faced today by the church. All the same things that ailed Israel’s word, still ail ours.

Thou times and culture have changed, two things remain the same. We live in an evil world. Sin abounds. God is ignored. The poor are oppressed. The widows and orphans are neglected. People build false gods made in their own image. Violent wars are waged. Their world was full of evil. So too is ours. Their hope was Christ, so too is ours. I have often wondered why Christ has come and yet the world seems largely unchanged. The lesson of hope we must embrace this advent, is not so much the image of hope itself that is given to us, but rather what we must do with that image…how that image must change the way we live.

The image is vividly painted in verses 2-4, but the lesson is found in verse 5. “Come, descendants of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord!” What is the light they are to walk in? The light is that which was revealed in the image of hope. Israel was given a picture of hope. Though it was not reality at that moment, Isaiah tells the people to live as if it were reality. They were to live in world shown to them, not the world they saw around them,

Imagine those stranded cruisers bobbing in the Antarctic seas. They were shipwrecked. They were lost, but they had hope in the form of another ship on the horizon. How did they survive? They did not survive because they saw the other ship and said, “It is to difficult.” “There is no way they can see us.” “They will not get here in time.” “It is a good idea, but look around, that is not where we’re at.” No, they survived because they saw the shipped. They had hope; they kept warm thinking about being warm on that ship. They lived every minute on those lifeboats as if they were aboard the big ship. They probably even did everything within their power to make sure their hope became reality.

Our hope is Christ. In Christ, God revealed his kingdom. In Christ, we have an image of hope. The question this Advent is, what will we do with that image of hope. Will we discard it or will we embrace it? Will we stream up the mountain to worship? Will we flow out into the world with the Good News of Christ? Will we continue building swords and spears or will begin melting them down and transforming them into plows and pruning shears. I often wonder why Christ came and yet the world is largely unchanged. But then I wonder why we expect the world to change when we continue living in, endorsing, promoting, and perpetuating the ways of the world instead embracing and living according to our hope in Christ Jesus. This advent, let us covenant together and with God to let the ways of the world die within us. Let us covenant together to embrace Christ, our hope, and begin living in his kingdom, following his way, and partnering with his mission. As we pray “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” Let us also proclaim together, “O Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!” To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Prayer: conversation or communion?

Those who don’t learn from their history, it is said, are doomed to repeat it. This is certainly the case for the Israelites of old. Life is great, but then they drift away from God. They lose sight of God. They begin forgetting God. They begin living more and more like earthly citizens than the called out and set apart citizens of the Kingdom of God they are. As they drift farther and farther away, they seem to always find themselves in some kind of oppression. Whether exiled, bonded into slavery, or just always living in fear from the constant attacks of their neighbors, leaving God always ends up for them in oppression. When they can take the oppression no more, a voice is heard calling them to repent. Because life is so bad, that call is heard and it is embraced. Their repentance moves them from oppression and slavery into the promised land of deliverance and freedom. Then the whole thing repeats itself. The God life, the drift, the oppression, the revival, the deliverance, the God life. Over and over the cycle just seems to repeat itself. Our text puts us right in the middle of one of these cycles. It also puts us in the midst of a series called, “Could I Ask You For a Favor?” It is a study on 1 Samuel looking at the characteristics God desires of his people that open the door for Him to graciously favor us. Hear the Word of the Lord, from 1 Samuel 7.3-17.

As is usually the case, the walk away from God is neither sudden nor intentional. It is often very difficult to pinpoint exactly why, or where, or when the outward drift began. While at Virginia Beach, I ventured out into the ocean. I love the smell of the saltwater, the sound of the waves crashing, the power of the tide surging. The ocean seems to capture in my imagination all the best life has to offer. So, with the sun beating down, I ventured out into the surf. I thought I was just hanging out relaxing. I pushed my way through the break line and just bobbed as the waves rolled by. The beauty of the moment was interrupted by a screeching whistle. It was being blown at me. I thought I was safe, but after being called back, I realize how far I was from the safety of the beach from which I’d drifted.

So it was for Israel. If we back up to verse 2, we find that some twenty years had passed. It has been twenty years of drift. Certainly the “ministry” of Eli, and Hophni and Phineas played some part in the drift away from God. They had certainly drifted far from the white sands of God’s beach. Where goes the head, so goes the body. Those corrupt priests carry the ark of God before Israel’s army as they go into battle. Perhaps they think the God who is enthroned upon the ark will deliver them despite their corruption. They were wrong! They were soundly defeated and the ark of God was captured. It wasn’t Israel who went into captivity. It wasn’t Israel who became oppressed. This time, it was their God who was captured and enslaved. What have they done?

Despite the ark’s miraculous return (a story you will want to read for yourself in chapters 4-6), Israel continues in their drift. We find in Samuel’s address that the people have turned away from worshiping the Lord their God alone. They have incorporated idol worship into their worship. They obviously should have known better, but again, the drift is seldom intentional or sudden. Imagine coming to a new land. Life had been nomadic, but now life was sustained through agriculture. You have no idea how to grow things or about agronomics. It is all so strange and foreign to you. You decide to ask for help.

The people of Canaan teach you about soil and water, seedtime and harvest. They even show you the tools of the trade. Primitive plows, hoes, rakes, forks, and O yes, we can’t forget Ashtaroth and Baal. You ask who they are and you find out that Ashtaroth is the female god of love and fertility and Baal is the male god of storm. When you combine the fertility of the soil, and the rain of the storm, you get conditions prime for growing! It all makes sense, and your farming is surprisingly fruitful. So that’s what the Israelites did.

Crops, however, were not the only seeds being planted. Samuel has been faithfully planting the seed of God’s word into the hearts of the people. Not surprisingly then, crops are not the only things growing. A sense of lament and mourning has been growing in the hearts of the people as they have recently become aware of their drift away from God. There has been a growing sense of repentance as Samuel continues calling the people back to God. Finally, in today’s text, the people respond. They repent. They cleanse the land of the pagan gods. They return to the one true God. As they do, revival breaks out in the hearts and in their land. They all gather together, they make sacrifices, they fast, they cry out to God. All of Israel is in attendance as they repent and seek God.

But, as they are repenting and seeking God, the Philistines begin to mount an attack against them. Israel is faced with a choice. Will they turn their attention toward the approaching army, or will they continue praying to God? We are quite surprised by their answer. They call out to Samuel, “Do not cease to cry out to the Lord our God for us, and pray that he may save us from the hand of the Philistines.” Prayer becomes their priority. God hears them as he graciously favors those who pray. God’s voice thunders through the land and the Philistines are confused as they are driven away. The cycle is now complete: they drifted, they were oppressed, they were repentant and they were delivered.

A couple of things stand out in our story. In many ways Israel’s story is our story. It is not just the story of Israel, but it’s the story of the church. To some degree we all understand the cycle first hand. Life is going great. We just got out back from camp meeting. We have had a fresh vision of God. We feel closer than ever and we are so ready to share our experience with others. But real life always sets in. We begin to drift away. The mountaintop becomes smaller and smaller as time makes it vanish on the horizon of life. At some point, we turn around and realize we can no longer see the mountain. We are awakened to our drift, and so we do the only logical thing we can do. We repent. We turn around. We change direction. We begin the journey toward the mountain. By the grace of God we find ourselves delivered from the shadowy valley as we once again bask in the sunlight of the mountain. Yes, the cycle is all too familiar.

Another thing stands out in the story. It is the way God graciously favors those who pray. Prayer has a central role in their turn back to God and the deliverance, freedom, and holiness God creates. At the very heart of Israel’s turn to God was prayer – a prayer of repentance. In that prayer they made a confession of their sin, an acknowledgement of God as the one true god, and a statement of priority. When evil came in the form of the Philistine army, their reaction was to not to quit, to pick up swords and to get back to God later, their priority was to make sure that the prayer did not cease. Prayer was central to the deliverance experienced by Israel. This too is something we fully understand. When we are confronted by the reality of our drift away from God, usually by some sort of “oppression,” our response, too, is prayer.

I would, however, ask us to push a bit farther this morning and ask not how prayer gets us back on track with God, but rather how prayer can keep us on the right track with God? In most of my life growing up in the Church of the Nazarene, attending many different Churches, being educated in a Nazarene University and Seminary, and then serving in a couple of Nazarene churches, prayer has always been understood as the way we communicate with God. We see this quite clearly in both of our scripture readings this morning. The people of Israel asked Samuel to pray to God…to give Him a message…to communicate with Him. Likewise, the disciples wanted Jesus to teach them how to pray, because John taught his disciples to pray. Surprisingly, Jesus response was a very beautiful, but brief and simple “prayer.”

In both cases, prayer is about communicating with God – expressing ourselves to God. But is that all prayer is? I would suggest that our lessons today also teaches us prayer is not just communication. Communication certainly is a part of prayer, but scripture seems clear that prayer is much broader than just communication. Imagine if you will, the life you live with your family – perhaps with siblings, perhaps with parents, perhaps with a spouse, perhaps with a roommate. I image for life to be smooth there must be a fair bit of communication. But is it really possible to communicate all the time? Is it really necessary to communicate all the time? Is it really beneficial to communicate all the time? The answer is obviously no.

We must communicate, but more than that we must commune – we must live together. We must enjoy one another’s presence. I love when Antonina comes home from work and we get to talk about our day. Very seldom do we just sit and talk. We talk while we cook. We talk while we eat. We talk while we do dishes. We communicate as we commune, but often we commune without communicating. We go for an evening boat ride up the river. The evening breeze blows through our hair. The mist of the river sprays us in the face. It would be must too difficult to talk over the rushing wind and the roaring motor, so we just enjoy one another’s company – we commune – as we course down the river. We drive down to Steubenville to catch an afternoon matinee. Though we do not talk, we enjoy sharing the story with one another as we watch it unfold before our eyes on the silver screen. Even when we are not together, we are enjoying one another by remembering our past together and looking forward to the end of the day when we will be together again. No, we do not always talk, but we do always enjoy one another’s presence. We do not always communicate, but we always commune. There is not always communication, but there is always communion.

Prayer is not just the things we say, but rather it is the way we approach living life. Samuel challenged Israel, “If you are truly repentant, then clear your lives of all the false Gods, direct your hearts to the Lord, and serve Him only.” Here is a good definition of the life of prayer to which we are all called. At the center is our communication with God as we regularly direct our hearts to the Lord, but that is lived out in the everyday decisions we make to keep our lives pure and holy, and to serve God only. Prayer is what we say, but it is also how we live.

In the Gospel, Jesus moves us beyond the mere communication aspect of prayer into the realms of seeking and knocking. It is not enough that we simply ask God questions. It is not enough that we communicate with Him. We must also seek Him. We must search for Him. It is not enough that we seek Him on occasion, or when we need Him most urgently. Jesus urges us to approach Him with perseverance. Paul urges us to pray without ceasing. Prayer then, becomes for us an issue of communion rather than mere communication. It becomes the very fabric of our lives.

The good news is abundant for us this morning. Prayer is not what we do when we get to a certain point in the cycle of life, it is what we do at every point of our life. It is how we live our life every day. Had Israel approached life this way, communing with God at every turn, one might fairly ask if the cycle would have been broken? If every day were spent in determined seeking, in dogged pursuit, in adoring communion, would there have been any drift at all? The lesson for us is to be constantly communing with God, endlessly enjoying His presence, and ceaselessly seeking His face. The really good news is that seeking God is not like a game of hide and seek; it is not like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Seeking God is looking for a God who is running to us. God sent Jesus into the world, so that we might enjoy life in His world. Jesus came into this earthly kingdom that we might live daily in God’s eternal kingdom. We need not look too hard to find God, for God has already come to the world, in Christ, to seek us. We need only to enjoy His eternal presence in our life as God graciously favors those who pray, with communication but more importantly in communion. To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Problem of Evil, and a Christian Response

This morning we are beginning a 6 week journey through the book of 1 Samuel called “Could I ask you for a favor?” During this time, we will be looking at some of the stories that shaped Israel’s national identity. Each story is one of God pouring his favor lavishly and graciously in response to the virtuous lives of his people. This morning’s scripture lesson is from chapter 1, verses 1-20. 1 Samuel 1.1-20: Hear the Word of the Lord.

The author is clear. This is no once upon a time story. This is a real story with real people and happens in real time in a real place. The man’s name is Elkanah. Elkanah has two wives. One is Peninnah. She is a very good wife. She bears many children. She is quite the homemaker. The other wife is Hannah. Hannah is a very good wife too. She is picturesque and beautiful. She is the one Elkanah really and truly loves.

It hits us like a ton of bricks. “Hannah had no children.” In a time when survival meant having children, and not having children meant not surviving, having no children was a very bad thing. In a culture whose understanding of life after death did not mean an eternal life as we think of it today, but rather experience life after death through the continued existence of their name via offspring, having no children was a very bad thing. In a society where status, wealth and power were largely determined by the number of children one had, having no children was a very bad thing. And so it comes as quite a punch in the gut when we are introduced to Hannah and then are told she “had no children.” You can almost hear the reader gasp with horror as she read of the curse that weighs so heavy in the life of Hannah.

It’s bad enough that she is unable to have children. She surely has to deal with the self-inflicted mental effects and stresses that come along with such a stigma, but we also find that she has to deal with ridicule and jealousy from the other wife. Day in and day out, Hannah must endure such pain. Even when they make their yearly pilgrimage to sacrifice to YHWH the provocation does not cease. In fact, it becomes worse. It goes on like this day after day and year after year.

One year, Hannah’s pot boiled over. The irritation was just too much to handle any more. Elkanah was sensitive to Hannah’s needs and at the feast gave her a double portion because he loved her so much. But she couldn’t take it. She was so upset she couldn’t eat. Again, Elkanah affirmed his love for her. It didn’t matter to him. He loved her for who she was, not for what she could produce for him. But this still didn’t help, the torment just continued. She got up from the table and went to the temple. She stormed past Eli, the Priest, ignored all the formalities of worship and began pouring her heart out to God. And then Eli piled on too. “What are you? Drunk?” he asked. Hannah just continued sobbing, opening her heart to God. “Why?” she asked. “Why God? Why do such terrible and evil things happen? Why?”

The news this week spread through the valley like wildfire. Tragedy stuck yet again. This time it hit too close to home – right here in Toronto. It was news of a mother – a mother who now has no child. Baby Jake, a wonderful child from all accounts, is dead. His father is in jail, charged with murdering 16-month-old Jake. A broken mother weeps. Friends and family grieve. A small town community mourns. Numbness – denial – sadness – anger – outrage – confusion. They cry. They question. “Why?” they ask. “Why God? Why do such terrible and evil things happen? Why? He was a baby! He was innocent? What did he do to deserve that? What did we do to deserve that? Why did you let him be killed? Why did you take him? Why? Why? Why?”

These questions have plagued us since the beginning of time. Perhaps no other question has been more problematic than this question of theodicy. Perhaps no other question is as difficult as this question of evil. Why do people suffer? Why do bad things happen to good people? It is all just so evil. It is such a difficult question because there is no easy, or remotely adequate answer. I wish I could stand here this morning and give you a nice neat sermon, answering all of these questions with three straightforward points. I wish I could address these things in a way that you would say, “Ah, that makes since, now I won’t have to wrestle with that one any more.” However, these are just wishes. There are no easy answers. There are no simple solutions. There is no magical remedy to the problem of evil in life. Instead, I’d like to reflect, for just a moment on this problem of evil.

Evil is a consequence of free choice. Evil is the absence of God. Many of us believe that every person is free to make choices in one’s life. One is free to eat hotdogs or hamburgers. Watch sports or drama. One can choose to love God and participate in his holiness or reject God and participate in evil. If one is free to choose God, then one must also be free to reject God. Evil is the absence of God’s holiness in the world.

Evil is real, evil is personal, and no one is immune from it. In the last year a twelve-year-old little girl, Antonina and I worked with at St. Paul’s died in a house fire. Another 7 year old that we taught in Sunday School when she was three was raped by her father. And now a 16-month-old baby in our community was murdered by his father. Evil is absolutely real. The man who raped the little girl is my friend. We worked together. We studied together. We are friends. I have replayed the two years I spent with him over and over again in my mind. Did I miss something? Was he crying out for help? Could I have prevented this? How does such a good man become so evil? How? Why? Where are you God?

While the question of evil is about as clear as the Ohio River after a rainstorm, Scripture is very clear about how we are to respond in the midst of evil. We are not called to understand evil. We are not called to explain evil. We are not called to conquer evil. These things only God can do. We are called, however, to be faithful to God, even in the midst of such evil. Perhaps this sounds no easier than explaining evil, but consider Christ. He wanted out. “Take this cup from me,” he begged as he sobbed drops of blood. “Daddy! Daddy! Why have you forsaken me?” he pleaded in the agony of the cross. “But that is Christ!” Sure, then consider Job – David – Paul – consider Hannah. In the midst of such evil and such personal hardships, Hannah remained faithful.

I’d like to suggest three things that allowed Hannah to remain faithful. The first is her endurance. We see in the story that she endures Peninnah’s incessant ridicule, irritation and provocation. She endures it year after year. There is no telling how long this went on. In the midst of such evil situations in life, we have no answers. There seems to be no end. There seems to be no timetable for withdraw. It seems that the evil and the suffering go on forever. Paul exhorts us to endure such hardship as discipline. The old saying is “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” So it is with evil and our faith.

Paul goes so far as to encourage us to endure, “knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Hannah is able to endure Peninnah’s harshness because of Elkanah’s undying love for her. A double portion of the feast, and unconditional love because of who she was spurred her on to endure. We can endure evil because we have hope. We have hope because of God’s great love that has been poured out to us.

Second, Hannah’s faithfulness in the face of evil is made possible by her continuing worship. Year after year, she endured hardship yet remained faithful. Year after year, she journeyed to Shiloh to worship the Lord. Worship is simply our focused attention and our intentional adoration of the Triune God who created us, who redeemed us, and who calls us to share in his holiness. The way we approach life is a matter of perspective. My truck seems large. Next to a semi, however, it seems not so big. Next to a train, a semi seems small, and next to the barges that plow up and down the river the train even seems small. So too, the evil in the world looms so large. When we see it next to the greatness of God, however, our present suffering tends to fade.

Worship, too, is an activity of the community. True worship is when the community of faith gathers to adore God. We never worship alone. Paul encourages us to never cease meeting together as many have done. Why? Because faithfulness requires the community of the faithful. None of us can walk through the valley of the shadow of death faithfully on our own. In the community, our pain is shared and our faith is strengthened. When we cannot continue our brothers and sisters can carry our load. Evil can be endured faithfully, but only when live is lived in worshipfully adoring God together with the entire communion of the saints.

Finally, faithfulness in the face of evil requires the utmost open and honest prayer before God our Father. Hannah got up from the table and went to the temple. She knelt before YHWH, opening her heart and sharing her pain. Eli thought she was drunk because such behavior was just not proper. A woman should not have gone where she went. Prayer was not silent, it was aloud. People didn’t just go to God, they went to the priest. There are rituals and forms that must be followed. Hannah wasn’t concerned with any of that. She simply bowed her life at the feet or her Father and emptied herself in his lap.

There is no shame in questioning God. How many of the psalms question God? How often do we hear David asking where God is, or when God is planning to deliver on his promises? Job is most famous. He questioned God constantly, but the key is he never cursed God. God desires to know us. To know us requires us to be open and honest. Only when we are open and honest, sharing with God our heart: our hurts, our questions, and our anger, is there room in our heart for his favor to be poured. Only after Hannah was able to open up in prayer to God was she able to leave uplifted and encouraged. “She went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was no longer sad.”

Faithfulness in the face of evil, by endurance, worship and prayer opens the door for God to favor us in the midst of evil. Eventually, Hannah did conceive a son and she named him Samuel. We don’t know how much time elapsed between her prayer and God’s answer, but by God’s grace the darkest of nights was transformed into the brightest of mornings. In so doing, God showed the world he pours out his favor upon those who remain faithful. To the glory of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Kingdom of God: A(n?) Hospitable Kingdom

Exodus 2:1-10 & Luke 18:15-17


Every year in the Church of the Nazarene, each church is called to have an annual meeting at which the annual reports of the pastor and the various ministry groups present their reports. I have seen many ways of presenting the pastor’s annual report, but the one seeming most appropriate is the sermon. A sort of “state of the local church” if you will, where the highlights of the past year are remembered and a vision for the coming year is laid out. My report to you this year, is titled: “The Kingdom of God: An Hospitable Kingdom.” The text for my report this year will be Luke 18:15-17. Hear the Word of the Lord.

If there is one word that can sum up the last year, it is the word “change.” It was nearly 9 months ago that two people packed up a moving truck, just like they had done four years prior to that. The first move was on the heels of their wedding. During the course of the four years between moves, they had gained a new identity as a married couple. They had become part of a church that they were deeply in love with. They had built deep and lasting friendships. They began fulfilling their lives’ calls, one to pastor and one to teach. They were mentored by the very best pastors and teachers they knew. They could not have wished or prayed for a better life. But all good things must come to an end. Four years later they found themselves driving into the sunrise, as they headed east on I70, catching one last glimpse of the life they loved as it faded in the rear view mirror.

When they arrived, they found themselves living in a community that very much shared their story. That community had a long history. It was a long history of very short pastorates. Just recently, however, the relationship between pastor and people began to solidify. After having pastors for about two years at a time, one young pastor came to be their pastor. He stayed beyond the two-year mark. Two years became five, and five years became ten. Ten years became fifteen, and fifteen years became almost twenty. During those years, the two became one. Many exciting things became part of life: a live nativity, complete with swimming livestock; an outreach ministry to people the pastor grew to love. Life was good for a while, but all good things must come to an end.

Both the couple and the community were forced to grieve the loss of a past life that they loved so dearly. But more than that, both the couple and the community shared an excitement about the new lives that spring forth from the old ones. Every ending means a new beginning and that excitement was shared. Both knew that transitions can be very difficult, but both welcomed the challenge. And when the couple arrived to join their new community they found a community that welcomed them and loved them just as if they’d been one of them all along.

The house they found when they arrived looked nothing like the one they’d seen when they visited. They learned that the whole church chipped in and worked together to get things ready. Everyone worked hard right up until the move in day, when paint was still sticky! They found a brand new stove, which they expected to have to buy when they arrived. For months after, they regularly found little tokens of love that were left anonymously: a lasagna in the refrigerator, a Toronto football shirt, a Ford Racing hat. They left a community they loved. They found a community that welcomed them and loved them, even thought the community didn’t yet know them. That is good old fashioned, biblical, hospitality. And for that hospitality, this couple thanks you all.

Our scripture lessons today were lessons of hospitality. The first lesson is set in ancient Egypt. It was there that the Israelites were enslaved. It was there that they quickly grew stronger as a people. Pharaoh felt threatened, so he issued a decree that said every Hebrew boy that was born was to be thrown into the river. When Moses was born, he was thrown first into a basket and then into the river where Pharaoh’s daughter found him. She made sure he was taken care of. She found an Israelite woman who could nurture him. It just so happens that Moses’ mother was chosen. When Moses was old enough Pharaoh’s daughter took Moses as her son, and eventually even Pharaoh took him as his own.

The second lesson also concerns infants. Jesus was busy teaching when a group of young mothers began to approach him. They were carrying their own babies. Jesus was busy and the disciples tried to turn them away. Jesus, however, turned this confrontation into an opportunity to teach about the Kingdom of God. He welcomed the little children. He suggested Kingdom of God belonged to them. Accordingly, the Kingdom of God was a place where even they are welcome, and no one who fails to welcome them will enter the Kingdom of God. Jesus showed hospitality and defined his Kingdom in terms of hospitality.

In our Faith Promise service, Rev. Shmidt told a story that happened to him in the African wilderness. They were driving through the desert looking for one of remote villages that pepper the landscape there. They drove and drove but could not find the house they were looking for. As night fell on them they saw a house. They knew it would not be a good thing to be lost in the dark and so they stopped. They knocked on the door, and when it was answered they told the man at the door they were seeking hospitality. It was granted – with food and shelter and much conversation. At the very heart of the Kingdom of God lies hospitality. At the very heart of hospitality lies the idea of welcome. To be a Kingdom of God type of church, we must be a welcoming church.


Our stories this morning however, push us beyond simple welcome. Welcome is one thing. Kingdom hospitality is another. Kingdom hospitality is not just granting welcome, but it is granting a hero’s welcome to all – even if they have done nothing to deserve any welcome at all.


The catch is made apparent in Luke’s story when we consider who the children are. We often have difficulty understanding just who these children are. Today, infants are many things. They are sweet. They are so cute. They are innocent. They represent purity and all the best of life. We have no problems welcoming in the sweet and innocent. We have no problems being hospitable toward the pure and nice looking. However, this image of children that we hold onto so dearly, and rightfully so, keeps us from seeing the radical nature of Jesus’ hospitality.

Consider baby Moses. Baby Moses wasn’t just any baby. He was a Hebrew. He was an Israelite. Baby Moses was condemned and was sentenced to die. He was an outsider and a slave. When the Kings daughter found little Moses, she could have been furious that someone had tried to save him. She could have hunted down his parents who disobeyed the law and had them killed. She could have thrown him back into the river to drown. Perhaps, if she were in a good mood she could have taken him home as her slave! She did none of this. She loved him, who was a worthless Israelite, as her own. She adopted him, who was a slave, as her son. She showed hospitality to one who no one in her position should have been hospitable to. “Whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

Consider Luke’s story. In Jesus’ day, people were valued based on their status. Status was largely reflective of their productivity. Children were at the bottom of the social ladder. Older children could contribute a little, but infant contribute nothing. They consume more than anyone else – food, time, energy – and they contribute absolutely nothing. Infants are the lowest rung on the ladder. Perhaps this is why the disciples reacted as they did. There were so many lives to touch and Jesus was supposed to make time for the infants. Real people with real needs needed him. These kids were taking more of Jesus’ time that was already in short supply. Perhaps they thought they were doing him a favor, but Jesus says the kingdom is for exactly these children – these lowly, worthless children.

The disciples shouldn’t be surprised should they? Jesus has been perfectly clear since the very beginning. You remember the words he read when he returned to Nazareth: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon be, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” To this list, Jesus adds the infants. He has pretty well included all of the untouchables, all those who were outside of the bounds of “civilized” society. “The Kingdom of God belongs to such as these…whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as [such] will never enter it.”

Antonina and I are very grateful for the welcome that you have given us. We appreciate it very much. However, being a Kingdom of God type of church is to give that same welcome to every person that walks through our doors. That is quite a tall order to fill. It is one that all churches have a difficult time filling. While I am very grateful for the hospitality shown to us, I am concerned because more than once I have seen examples of denying hospitality to those seeking it. I’ve heard some under the breath comments and attitudes that seem to say, “It’s a good thing people like that don’t come here” or, “We really don’t want that kind of person here.” I heard of people who don’t really like to come because we act so cliquish and snobbish. I wonder where that fits in with our message of holiness. I wonder where that fits in the Kingdom of God.

Most of all though, I don’t wonder…I dream. I dream about a community that people flock to because they know they will be welcomed. I dream about a church that takes the Kingdom of God seriously enough to welcome it with all the “little children,” and all “oppressed,” and all the “captives.” I dream about a church where hospitality means giving a hero’s welcome to all the neglected children, all the abused wives, all the addicted husbands. I dream of a place where hospitality means that the neglected can find love, the abused can find refuge, and the addicted can find freedom. I dream about the Kingdom of God being an hospitable kingdom.

I dream knowing that dreams are a long way away. But I dream knowing that dreams come true step by step by step. You all know that our big task for the year is to begin to define our mission. Who are we called to reach out to? Who is missing from our community? Who are we well gifted to minister to? No matter how that discussion is resolved – no matter how that mission is defined – we must begin by making this an hospitable kingdom. I want to challenge you to start dreaming this dream. I want to invite you back this evening as we ask what it would take for every person that God sends to feel as welcomed as you have made Antonina and me feel. Last year was one of welcoming a new pastor. Lets make this year a year of showing hospitality to a community, “for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. And truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, or a crippled beggar, or a wandering stranger, or an abused wife or an addicted husband will never enter it.” To the glory of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS

MON: Ps 32; 2 Cor 5:11-21
TUES: Jos 5:9-12; 2 Cor 5:11-21
WED: Lk 15:1-7; 2 Cor 5:11-21
THURS: Ps 126; John 12:1-8
FRI: Is 43:16-21; John 12:1-8
SAT: Php 3:4b-14; John 12:1-8

MISSIONARY MOMENT

Please take a moment each day to pray for the Church of the Nazarene in the following world districts:

Brazil Curitiba

Canada Central - http://www.nazcentral.ca/

THE PULPIT: reconciliation - 2 Cor 5:11-21

The story is told of a young Jewish boy – the youngest of his father’s sons. They were a happy family, but something arose. There grew a conflict between the boy and his father. As is so often the case, the conflict began to fester. It festered until it could fester no more and then it popped. “Father, give me what is mine and I will be gone. I won’t stay here…I won’t put up with this…I just can’t stand it. I wish you would just die, so I could get something out of our relationship. But give me my inheritance now and we will never have to deal with this anymore.”

The father gave the son his share and the son left home as he promised. It was fun for a while. He traveled the world, he spent many nights partying until late into the night. He bought the finest things money could buy. Finally he was enjoying life. No overbearing father…no silly rules…no clouds on the horizon, just clear blue skies. And he loved every minute. But the clear blue skies grew cloudy. Money began to dwindle. He couldn’t afford the late night parties anymore. He couldn’t afford the good life anymore. Slowly he began selling what he had to support the habits he developed. Soon he was left with nothing. No money, no stuff, no friends, no food or roof over his head.

He began looking for work. He spent many days inquiring about employment. He spoke to many people looking for anything that might help him get the things he needs. The best he found was a job on a farm. Now farming is noble work, but the boy found himself doing the grunt work…feeding the pigs. Good Jews have nothing to do with pigs. They are unclean. They are forbidden, but he had to do what he had to do. It paid him next to nothing, and every day he grew hungrier and hungrier. Finally one day he found himself daydreaming of eating the slop he was feeding to the pigs. He just couldn’t sink any lower.

We all understand conflict. We all know first hand what this kind of separation can do. We all know…and so did Paul. This morning’s text is 2 Corinthians 5:11-21. Hear the word of the Lord.

Paul’s experience with the church at Corinth certainly made him painfully aware of the damage these rifts can cause. The relationship between Paul and the Corinthians had been a very good one. He lived with them for 18 months. He gave the church a good start and a solid foundation. They were his pride and joy. He sent Timothy to oversee a collection for the ministry of the church in Jerusalem, but Timothy returns with bad news.

The Corinthians were being influenced by itinerant preachers. These preachers seem to have been somewhat questionable in their teaching. What’s worse though, they began planting seeds of division between Paul and the Corinthians. They questioned his authority. They questioned his credentials. They questioned whether he was the real deal – and the people began to buy into it.

Paul, not wanting to let this thing fester, decided to make an emergency visit to Corinth. We don’t really know what exactly happened on this visit, but Paul described it as a “painful” visit (2:1, 7:2). It would seem that part of the visit included some pretty harsh slandering of Paul (2:5-6, 7:12). Rather than staying, Paul left – hurt, angry, disgraced, and enraged. What had been festering was brought to a head. Paul wrote 2 Corinthians in the context of this broken relationship. He wrote to his beloved trying to make sense of what has happened. For Paul, what happened only made sense in the light of the cross.

These rifts – these broken relationships – are not unique to persons. Before there was ever a broken relationship between persons, there was a broken relationship between persons and God. We all remember the story of Adam and Eve. They were created in the image of God. They were put in a beautiful garden where they enjoyed and cared for all creation. They lived in a place where God walked among them. It seems like such a regular, unspectacular occurrence. Our minds lead us to images of early morning walks through dew-covered grasses, sharing the new day with God. We think of afternoon respites from the hot sun, with God under a shade tree. We think of evening strolls and saying our good nights to God who walks with us and shares life with us in the garden.

The only rule for living in the garden was to avoid eating the fruit of one particular tree. But Adam and Eve were tempted and ate of the fruit of the forbidden tree. Then they heard God coming and they tried to hide. Like little kids with mouths full of cookies when they hear Mom walking down the hall, they duck for cover. They found a place to hide. The rift had begun –

But they could not hide from God. No one can. God began questioning them. They began pointing fingers. The man at the woman – the woman at the snake. No one took responsibility for one’s own actions. Each tried to look for excuses, each wanted to blame someone else. The more they tried to cover it up – the more they tried to explain it away – the deeper and wider the rift grew.

God could not let them stay in the garden and so God sent them away. An angel was placed at the entrance of the garden to keep them out. No longer would life be a walk in the garden, but it would be one of hard work, of blood, sweat and tears. The rift was uncrossable. Life went from walking with God in the cool of the night, to one lived unable to even gaze upon the face of God without the fear of dying. We once were so close, but sin has made us so very far apart.

God loved us too much to let life go on this way, so he sent Christ. Paul really begins preaching: “We believe that Christ died for all,” and the church all responded…AMEN!

“We also believe that we all have died to our old life,” and the church all responded…AMEN!

“He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves,” … AMEN!

“Instead they will live for Christ” …AMEN!

“Anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person…the old life is gone; a new life has begun” …AMEN!

“And all this is a gift from God, who brought us back to himself through Christ” …AMEN!

“For God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” …AMEN!

No doubt the church was eating this stuff up. This is good stuff. This is the stuff of the gospel. God made people. People sinned. Sin created a barrier between God and God’s people. God tore down that wall by Christ. That is called reconciliation. Reconciliation is when people who do not have relationship with one another are brought back into relationship with one another.

In the Gospel story this morning, the boy realized that even his father’s slaves were taken care of better than he was. He decided to swallow his pride. He decided to return home. Maybe his father would hire him and he would at least have some food to eat. But the father did much more than that. The father had been waiting. He had done nothing but wait and watch since the day the son left. When he saw the son coming up the road he ran out to meet his boy. He wrapped his arms tightly around his son. He threw a huge party because his son had returned. They were reconciled.

In the same way, God reconciled the world to himself through Christ. “For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ.” This is the message Paul preached to the Corinthians, and they loved it. They were with Paul all the way. But then Paul sprung the trap door on them. “God has given us this task of reconciliation” …the amen’s aren’t so enthusiastic. “God gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” …the amen’s are almost non-existent. Paul does not stop with Christ’s reconciling work, he goes on to explain our reconciling work. God desire’s that we are reconciled to him. God also desire’s that we are reconciled to one another. It’s a low blow. It is like punching the Corinthians in the gut!

Paul was deeply pained that there was a deep rift between the church and himself. God was deeply pained that there was a deep rift between God’s Church and Godself. Both rifts are only healed in Christ. God has provided a means for all our rifts to be reconciled, and sets us to the work of being reconcilers.

This work of reconciliation must take place in three places. First, we must be reconciled to God. We’ve already retold the story. We stand with Adam and Eve as sinners separated from God. Especially during Lent, we acknowledge this. We look deeply at our own lives. We look deep into our own hearts. We remember who we are. We recognize our own sinfulness, we recognize the rift that sin causes. We remember who Christ is. We recognize the reconciling work of Christ in our life. We refocus our life on Christ and on his reconciling work. In Christ we are new. The old us is gone. He has recreated us anew in his image. We have been made right with God!

Second, Paul understood if we are to be reconcilers in the world, it is not enough that we are reconciled with God. We must also be reconciled with one another. Jesus seems to teach that this is at least as important as the first. “If you are coming to worship and you remember that there is something between you and someone else, leave your worship. Go and be reconciled to that person. Then come back and worship” (Matt 5:23-24, my paraphrase). How can we be agents of reconciliation if we are not reconciled ourselves? How can we be an ambassador of Christ if we refuse to embody that which he came to achieve? “You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say, ‘Love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven” (Matt 5:43-45). Be active in seeking to reconcile your relationships…for in that way you will be proclaiming Christ’s message of reconciliation.

Last, just as Christ was sent to the world to reconcile it with the Father, so too have we been sent into the world to reconcile it to the Father. Christ is the reconciliation we preach. Paul goes so far as to call us Christ’s ambassadors. An ambassador is one who is given the authority and power of another. For instance, the President cannot be in every country dealing with business. That poses quite a problem, so he appoints ambassadors. The ambassadors speak for the President with the full power and authority of the President. We are Christ’s ambassador. Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father and will come again. But he has left his Spirit who works through his Church. We are to speak Christ’s words and we are to do Christ’s work in the world. And it is all to be done as Christ would do it. Loving and forgiving.

Reconciliation is not an easy thing. It only happens by Christ. And the lengths to which Christ went is the measure of the cost of reconciliation. Our reconciliation was only by his persecution, his suffering, his death. He became the sin of man that we may become the righteousness of God. If people are to know this love of the Father, it is going to start by knowing the love of Christ in the love of His Church. To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

MISSIONARY MOMENT

Please take a moment to pray for the following disticts of the Church of the Nazarene:

Bolivia La Paz

Canada Atlantic (http://www.atnazarene.org)

DAILY SCRIPTURE READINGS

MON: Ps 27; Lk 13:31-35
TUES: Gn 15:1-18; Lk 13:31-35
WED: Pp 3:17-4:1; Lk 13:31-35
THUR: Ps 32; 2 Cor 5:16-21
FRI: Jos 5:9-12; 2 Cor 5:16-21
SAT: Lk 15:1-7; 2 Cor 5:16-21

THE PULPIT: one fox, one hen, a mess of chicks - Luke 13:31-35

This morning’s gospel lesson is from Luke 13:31-35. Hear the word of the Lord.

I am so amazed at the image Jesus draws in this story. Apparently, I am not the only one. One preacher, after visiting the Holy Land wrote these words: “On the western slope of the Mount of Olives, just across the Kidron Valley from Jerusalem, sits a small chapel called Dominus Flevit. The name comes from Luke’s Gospel, which contains not one but two accounts of Jesus’ grief over the loss of Jerusalem. According to tradition, it was here that Jesus wept over the city that had refused his ministrations.

“Inside the chapel, the altar is centered before a high arched window that looks out over the city. Iron grillwork divides the view into sections, so that on a sunny day the effect is that of a stained-glass window. The difference is that this subject is alive. It is not some artist’s rendering of the holy city but the city itself, with the Dome of the Rock in the bottom left corner and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in the middle. Two-thirds of the view is the cloudless sky above the city which the grillwork turns into a quilt of blue squares. Perhaps this is where the heavenly Jerusalem hovers over the earthly one, until the time comes for the two to meet?

“Down below, on the front of the altar, is a picture of what never happened in that city. It is a mosaic medallion of a white hen with a golden halo around her head. Her red comb resembles a crown, and her wings are spread wide to shelter the pale yellow chicks that crowd around her feet. There are seven of them, with black dots for eyes and orange dots for beaks. They look happy to be there. The hen looks ready to spit fire if anyone comes near her babies.

“But like I said, it never happened, and the picture does not pretend that it did. The medallion is rimmed with red words in Latin. Translated into English they read, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!" The last phrase is set outside the circle, in a pool of red underneath the chicks’ feet: you were not willing” (Barbara Brown Taylor. “As A Hen Gathers Her Brood.” The Christian Century, February 25, 1986, page 201).

The image is really set up in the first half of the passage where we meet all the key characters: Jesus (the hen), Herod (the fox), and Jerusalem (the city and the people of God). The Pharisees are just peripheral players. They kind of get the story going, but then fade away into the background. They come to Jesus with a warning: “You’d better get out of here! Herod is looking to finish what he started when he had John beheaded…you’re next!” Jesus responds by calling Herod a fox...a sneaky, conniving, dirty, plotting fox. He says to tell the fox to be patient. For now he is about his work, but soon – very soon – he will be finished. Then he introduces the third character: Jerusalem. It is both the destination where he will be killed, and the people for whom he weeps.

The problem is, in the words of an old saying, there is a fox loose in the hen house. The Pharisees say that Jesus is in danger because of the threat Herod represents. But Jesus turns the table and suggests that while Herod might be a threat to him, the cunning fox is more of a threat to them – his beloved people. We all know foxes love to stir up trouble, and they truly love little, tender, vulnerable chicks.

Jesus knew quite well the power and attractiveness of temptation. His was still fairly fresh in his mind. And here lies Jerusalem, the city – the people – that God chose as his own, constantly being assaulted by the fox. Though Herod had no real “authority” over Jerusalem since it was outside his “kingdom,” he, and the kingdom of the world he represents, certainly exuded clear influence in Jerusalem’s life. If it weren’t for the influences of the world, then why would Jerusalem have such a reputation for stoning and killing those God sent to speak his truth? Why would Jerusalem have had such a hard time being faithful to the God who was always faithful to them? It is very hard to live as chicks when the world of foxes is constantly circling.

That much has never changed. Paul wrote to the early church of the difficulties that arise in being in the world but not of it. We still today feel so often like chicks in a world of foxes. Jerusalem now stands in the story in our place – in the place of the Church which God ordained in Christ to be His holy people. It stands in the place of a church that struggles to live the Holiness of Christ. The Church stands today, like the Jerusalem of old, as a people with a reputation. Our reputation is not good.

This week in the news, one church filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy protection stemming from a long list of sexual abuse lawsuits. Last week in the news one church laid down an ultimatum to some of its constituent churches threatening excommunication. The George Barna survey we mentioned a couple weeks ago confirmed that public opinion of the Church is not very high. Perhaps we have been influenced too much by the fox and his ways.

Jerusalem was known for killing its prophets. Being a prophet is inherently risky business, but I wonder how many others the Church stones…or drives away…or kills. When I was involved with an outreach program at one church, the unbearable frustration was that the kids we were working with felt more alone and rejected at church than anywhere else. The people were polite, but our kids were never welcomed. Our kids were never invited to truly be a part of the church. “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem. How many of my people, that I have sent to you, have you driven away?” Perhaps it is over his Church that Jesus this morning weeps.

I was involved with planting a church in an area of town most people wanted nothing to do with, and for people that most people wanted nothing to do with. The common sentiment from the church people we were recruiting to plant with us was “we don’t want our kids growing up around those kids … Those kids are always in trouble … They will be a bad influence on our kids … we just can’t help.” “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem. How many of my people that I have sent to you have you driven away?” Perhaps it is over his Church that Jesus this morning weeps.

No wonder the church has a bad reputation! Jerusalem killed the prophets whom God sent, and today’s church is often known for sending away any that don’t fit in. That is nothing but the influence of the fox! The fox says people should fit a certain mold. The fox says people have to look a certain way. The fox says people have to act a certain way. The fox makes us so uncomfortable that we feel safer driving anyone who is not one of us away. Perhaps the church has become so influenced and infiltrated by the world and the ways of the world that it has almost become indistinguishable from the world. And Jesus weeps.

Lent is a season of taking a long, hard deep look into the mirror. Do we fall into this trap? Do new people who come to us leave because they don’t feel comfortable here? Do new people come, look around and think we are just a bunch of cliquish snobs? Do we secretly think “we don’t want that kind of people here”? And Jesus weeps.

While Lent is a season of taking a long, hard, deep look into the mirror, it is also a season of peering deeply into the eyes of a loving God. We have to remember and recognize our shortcomings, and faults. We have to repent of our sin. But we also have to refocus our lives on the cross. When we return to the text, we find Jesus weeping, not because things are hopeless. Jesus is not weeping because all is lost. Jesus weeps because he desires to protect Jerusalem from the foxes that lurk. He desires to gather all his chicks beneath his wing. He desires to protect, but Jerusalem won’t let him. Jesus weeps.

Jesus weeps but he is not stopped. As we follow the journey of Lent we find that it ends in Jerusalem. Though he is rejected – though his protection is refused, he goes anyway like a loving hen. Of all the animals he could have gone as, the hen seems the most unlikely. What ever happened to the Lion of Judah? He could have come roaring into Jerusalem, ate the foxes and all the people would be free. He didn’t. Jesus came as a lamb to be slaughtered. Jesus came as a hen…as a loving mother standing precariously between an attacker and her children.

Though his children had been disobedient…though his bride had been unfaithful…though he was rejected by them, still he came. And in a final twist of irony, Jesus hung, wings extended and breast exposed on the cross dying to protect those who didn’t want it. Where sin abounded, grace abounded all more.

So Jesus hung for his people – Jerusalem – then. So Jesus hung for his people – the church – now. The good news for us is that though Jesus weeps, he still desires to protect his chicks from the fox. Though the Church has a bad reputation in the world, the gospel message is that we are still Christ’s Church. Though the Church often stones and drives away those whom God sends to it, the good news is that we are still Christ’s Church. Though we stumble and fall and make messes, we are still Christ’s church that he loves, and that he longs to protect. We are still Christ’s church that he desires to gather together under his wing. The question, this morning, is whether we will be like Jerusalem and deny His protection, or if we will accept it.

To accept his protection is to fall in line behind him. To accept his protection is to trust in the power of his blood. To accept his protection is to choose to be more like a hen and less like a fox…more like the kingdom of God and less like the kingdom of the world. To accept his protection is to be more like him. As we become more like him, we need his protection more. For to be like him is to be vulnerable. It is to be OK with being different. It is to be humble and meek. It is to be patient and gentle and generous. The world is a fox, always lurking, always scheming. We are to be a hen, opening our wings and exposing our necks for those who God sends us to, though they might reject us. Christ knew what was coming and went willingly anyway. We are called to do the same. We see what may lie ahead if we take this call to Christ-likeness and perfect love seriously, and are called to willingly following. We know the danger and the uncomfortability, but our call is to trust solely in Christ’s mighty and widespread arms of protection. Our call is to accept our cross for God glory: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.