4th Sunday of Advent: Living Together in Peace

4^th Sunday of Advent 2012

“Living Together in Peace” 

Micah 5:2-5a; Luke 1:39-56

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.  

 Hear again the words of the prophet Micah:

And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace.

One Sunday morning about ten years ago, just as my family was heading home after worship at Central Lutheran Church in downtown Minneapolis, my cell phone rang. We had just gotten to the parking lot and were still chatting about lunch options with Robert’s parents, Cindy and Ed, who were visiting from Oklahoma, when that familiar ringtone interrupted the conversation. I knew instantly what it meant—a baby was about to be born.

At that time, my pre-pastoral profession was working as a doula, otherwise known as a labor and childbirth assistant. In this role, I had the great privilege of accompanying pregnant women throughout the entire labor and birth process. However, it should be noted that babies do not come on a predictable schedule. Sometimes they come after you’ve had a good night’s sleep and have all your bags packed. Sometimes they come in the middle of the night. And sometimes…they come two weeks earlier than expected. And so it happened that I would not be enjoying Sunday lunch with my family.

Aside from missing lunch, the problem of the moment was that we had brought two vehicles to church that morning: our family-sized sedan with room for the two car seats and the diaper bag and everything else a family of four might need; and my father-in-law Ed’s pickup. Since not everyone was interested in joining me at the hospital for the joys of childbirth, I was given the keys to the truck.

Ed seemed a bit skeptical about entrusting his beloved Ford F-150 to me, and he was sure to give me a quick lesson in how to drive and park it. And then he said, with much seriousness: “In case there’s any trouble, you’ve got a pistol under the driver’s seat. Do you know how to use it?”

His words took my breath away. The idea that I would need a handgun to attend the birth of a baby had never crossed my mind. I was driving off to the hospital to be with a couple for the most sacred event of their lives! Furthermore, they had enlisted me, a doula, to join them, to help ensure the experience was healthy and peaceful. I knew for a fact that guns had no place in their birth plan. 

But it was no use arguing with Ed. After a few more instructions, I drove off in my father-in-law’s truck, armed and ready to welcome a new life into the world.

Robert gave me permission to tell this story about his dad, who died not long after this took place. We both agreed, however, that in the telling, it’s important to acknowledge that Ed was acting out of a sense of duty to protect his family. He wanted to be sure I was safe. He wanted to be sure his whole family lived secure. 

But this story begs to be told today, as we prepare for the birth of another baby—Jesus, the Prince of Peace—and all around us the world is debating whether we should be armed for the occasion.

In the interest of security, some would like us to be armed for every occasion.

The NRA has called for “armed police officers in every school in this nation” before the kids return to class in January. 

Others have suggested we arm the teachers, or at least the principals.

Here in Illinois, a federal appeals court has just overturned the last state law banning citizens from carrying guns concealed on their bodies. 

And in Michigan, the governor has vetoed a law that would allow concealed weapons even in schools, daycare centers, and churches—but only after intense public pressure in the days following the Sandy Hook massacre.

Please understand: my job as pastor is to preach the Gospel, not politics, and I confess that I don’t know any easy policy answers to the problem of our culture of violence. But as a preacher, I most certainly have a responsibility to preach the truth. Micah chapter 3, which comes just before our reading for today, gives a harsh warning to prophets who would stand and preach “peace” to those who are hungry, when they themselves have enough to eat. And the prophet Jeremiah bemoans: “From prophet to priest, everyone deals falsely. They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying, ‘Peace, peace’, when there is no peace.” (Jeremiah 8:11, 6:14)

And so I cannot stand here, at the end of an Advent season in which our worship and prayer focus has been “Imagine: Peace”, and preach to you “peace” when there is no peace. I cannot, after the deaths of 20 children and 6 teachers, one mother and one disturbed young man, ignore the fact that we have a problem in our country. We are afraid. We have lots of guns. But we have no peace.  

In this morning’s lesson from Micah chapter 5, we heard that “the one of peace” shall come out of Bethlehem, and with his arrival Jerusalem “shall live secure.” Our reading starts with verse 2, but if we step back just one more verse, we learn more about the situation of those who were hearing those prophetic words:

“Now you are walled around with a wall; siege is laid against us; with a rod they strike the ruler of Israel upon the cheek.” (Micah 5:1)

This is a description of Jerusalem’s situation around 800 B.C.E, but when I hear these words, I think of how we, today, are walled around with a wall. We live behind a wall of weapons, nearly 90 guns for every 100 American citizens. And yet we are not secure, no matter how many guns we acquire, for we are under siege by our own fear. 

The Israelites had no reason to think tomorrow would be a better day, or that the future would bring anything new. Our predicament seems just as hopeless. Just one week after Sandy Hook, with the funerals nearly done and the news crews withdrawing their attention from Connecticut and on to the next top story, we have every reason to think tomorrow won’t be any better, either. More guns will be purchased. More shootings will happen. More children will die! And we will still be afraid.

But then, into our hopelessness, into our fear, and into our sinful idolatry of guns and might and power over others, comes a tiny baby. He is the one we’ve been waiting for. He’s the ruler the prophet Micah prophesied would come out of Bethlehem: a new kind of king, bringing a new kind of peace. His name is Jesus, and he comes carrying a cross, not a conceal carry permit.  

The Prince of Peace, the one the world’s been waiting for, has finally come! But instead of bringing his army with him, we find him in an animal’s feeding trough. Instead of being encircled by guns and guards, we find him surrounded by a ragtag bunch of farm animals, field workers, and foreigners. By coming near to us in Jesus, a defenseless human baby, God thwarts the plans of those who would attempt to bring peace and security through gunpowder and assault rifles and weapons of mass destruction. God has done a new thing! He “has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:49-53) The day God showed up in a manger, the world was given a new path to peace and security.

No longer do we find our security behind a wall, or in our ever-growing stash of weapons; nor do we find it in power over others. Now, we can beat our “swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks” (Micah 4:3) Micah chapter 4 even says we can “study war no more” because we’re no longer seeking our own defense. Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, who was born of a virgin and laid in a manger; who ultimately died on a cross only to be raised the third day, brings the peace that passes all understanding: Peace between us and the One who created us. 

My fellow Christians, we know this to be true, but we so easily forget. If you listen carefully, though, it’s there—even in our Christmas carols: "Peace on earth, and mercy mild. God and sinners reconciled." (Hark the Herald Angels sing) 

The Christian witness, especially at Christmas, is one the world desperately needs to hear: Guns do not bring peace. Arming ourselves will never make us live secure. The only chance at peace this world has is to live into the gift of peace given through Jesus Christ. Only when we fully receive the gift of being at peace with God will we be at peace with ourselves—and with each other.

My father-in-law, in his attempts to bring security and peace to his family, instead gave birth to more fear. No matter how many guns he bought, he was always afraid.  And the presence of so many weapons only made his family afraid, too. On the day he died, the last phone call we made before starting on the road to Oklahoma was to Robert’s mom. We had to ask her to remove the guns before we brought our toddlers into the house. “Move them all, Mom,” said Robert. “Yes, the one in the coffee table, and the one behind the recliner, and the one in the nightstand. And all the rest.” 

Today, poised as we are on this last day of Advent, with Christmas just hours away, we rejoice that Mary is in labor. God is about to do something new, and we have been invited to the birth! We have an open invitation to the stable tomorrow, to kneel at the manger where the newborn Jesus is laid. Are we going to welcome this new life with a gun under our seat? Will we approach the manger armed, or with open arms, ready to receive the gift of peace God has sent to the world? 

Come now, O Prince of Peace. In your mercy, forgive us, and show us your Way to live together in peace. Amen.

The Longest Night: A Service of Reflection during Advent

Reflection for the Longest Night Service
December 19, 2012

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from the One who is, who was, and who is to come. Amen.

The night I met my husband, I sat across a table with him at a party in Frankfurt, Germany. Mutual friends were determined to introduce us to each other, knowing we were both from Oklahoma. I was…uninterested. You see, I was in Germany for a year of studying music abroad. I couldn’t think of anything less interesting to do on my grand European adventure than to meet an Okie.

And so our conversation that night began with a quiz. I was clearly not trying to impress this stranger across the table, so I pestered him with questions—to be sure he was really from Oklahoma, you see.

What are the two major universities in Oklahoma? OU and OSU, he said.

What’s the state bird? Scissortail flycatcher.    

Where’s the best pizza? The Hideaway in Stillwater.

Hmmm…so far, so good.

But then I threw a zinger at him.

What is the state flower?

And he replied: Mistletoe.

Wow! He passed the test! I couldn’t believe it. And so we kept on talking. It’s been 18 years now, and we’re still testing each other daily.

But back to the point—in case you wondered what it was!—and the point is: Mistletoe is a mighty strange choice for a state flower.

The first reason it’s an odd choice is we rarely see mistletoe around these parts except when it’s hanging above kissing couples at Christmastime. But it sounds even odder if you happen to know the mistletoe is a parasitic (or, technically, hemi-parasitic) plant. This means mistletoe usually does not grow on its own, but instead survives by clinging to a tree.

Now, the story goes that mistletoe was adopted as the state flower of Oklahoma on February 11, 1893, after Chicago hosted the World Fair. Apparently all states or would-be-states, wanting to be part of the union, were requested to name their state flower at that time.

I’m not sure who chose mistletoe (or if it was chosen for them) but when residents of the Oklahoma territory found out, they were infuriated. There was much ado about a berry-bearing parasitic plant becoming their state flower. It took a while for them to get over it. Some still are not happy about it to this day! In fact, in 2004, they voted to officially adopt the Oklahoma Rose in its place.

This isn’t too surprising, really. After all, Okies—and Americans in general--are fiercely independent. Who wants to be associated with a parasite? We don’t need that kind of reputation! We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps! We survive the wild, wild, west, braving dust storms and locusts! We can do this on our own! 

So goes the American myth of independence. But if you are sitting here tonight, then I’m going to guess you have learned a thing or two about your ability to handle everything on your own. Some days—some weeks—some years—life knocks us off our high horse, and we realize how vulnerable we really are. When a spouse, a child, or a parent dies; when the doctor says “cancer”; when the boss says “laid off”; when the reporter says “26 dead, 20 of them children”; we are brought to the uncomfortable realization that we lack the strength to go it alone. This load is too heavy. This pain is too intense. This darkness will not be vanquished by my strength, my fortitude, or a positive attitude.

And so we gather here tonight, one of the longest nights of the year. We gather to acknowledge that we cannot do it alone. We need a light in the darkness. We need hope for tomorrow. We need a friend. We’ve been uprooted, and we need someplace to call home.

The poet Robert Herrick wrote:

“Lord, I am like to mistletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow
Or prosper but by that same tree
It clings about; so I by Thee.
What need I then to fear at all,
So long as I about Thee crawl?”

Sisters and brothers, tonight we come seeking the Tree of Life, Jesus Christ. We know, now more than ever, that we cannot live without Him. We, like the humble mistletoe plant, must be grafted into that tree in order to survive. We need His love, His grace, His forgiveness. We need the promise that this darkness is not all there is. We need the hope that one day, we will have the strength to bloom once again! We need to know we are not alone in the world.

Hear the words of beloved spiritual author Henri Nouwen:

“God came to us because he wanted to join us on the road, to listen to our story, and to help us realize that we are not walking in circles but moving towards the house of peace and joy. This is the great mystery of Christmas that continues to give us comfort and consolation: we are not alone on our journey. The God of love who gave us life sent us his only Son to be with us at all times and in all places, so that we never have to feel lost in our struggles but always can trust that he walks with us…
Christmas is the renewed invitation not to be afraid and let him—whose love is greater than our own hearts and minds can comprehend—be our companion.” (Henri Nouwen, “Gracias! A Latin American Journal”)

This year, my dear ones, amidst the lights and the trees, Santa and the elves, and all the other symbols of the season, perhaps the lowly mistletoe plant will be a Christmas symbol that brings you comfort.  When you leave tonight, I invite you to take a bit of it home with you--a gift from me. And over the next days, when you see it, remember that you, like the humble mistletoe, are never going it alone. You have an unshakable foundation. In Christ, you have a bottomless source of comfort and healing. Cling to Him, the One who became flesh and lived among us, and in whom we have life eternal. Amen.

2nd Sunday of Advent: December 9, 2012

 2nd Sunday of Advent: December 9, 2012

Luke 3:1-6

PREACHER: Pastor Paul Cannon

 Repent All Ye Sinners

 Repent all ye sinners!  The end is near! If you don’t repent, bad stuff is gonna happen to you!…oooooooh. We all know that the Mayan calendar ends on December 21^st, 2012.  So there’s that to be frightened of.  Then there was that one guy who predicted the end of the world back in May of 2011 and again in October. That preacher wasn’t wrong.  God is just late! If I can excuse myself for being late to a few meetings here and there I’m sure we can all excuse the Almighty showing up late for the apocalypse! There’s a lot of planning involved!  Anyways, you had better all repent right now … or else!

You all look very skeptical.

Isn’t that the sort of thing you think of when you hear that word – repent? Don’t we all automatically imagine the loud cries of the doomsayers?  Isn’t that what we’ve been conditioned to think of repentance as?  Turning from our sins so that we can make ourselves into holier people?  At least, that’s the kind of thing that most people hear when the word “repent” is thrown around.  We think of somebody giving a warning, or threatening us in some way, as if to say “You had better repent, or bad things are going to happen to you.”

Our text today speaks of John the Baptist who went about the region of Jordan declaring a “Baptism of Repentance.”  I want us to start thinking about repentance in the same sort of context that John the Baptist spoke in – that is –in the context of Advent.  John the Baptist spoke of repentance in the context of a Savior coming into a broken world – a world where sinners like you and me have tried and failed miserably time and time again, to be the people God created us to be. John the Baptist spoke of repentance in terms of hope for a salvation that we haven’t earned – not fear of salvation that we have to earn.

John is telling his followers that Emmanuel is coming.  The Savior is on his way!  His message is a message of hope.  He’s telling the people to repent because something amazing is about to happen and we all get to be a part of it!

Go ahead and take out your “Celebrate” inserts – that’s the one with the readings on it.  And I want you all to read with me what it says there under the Gospel section. Let’s all read the quoted verses together, starting where it says “The voice” in verse 4: “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.  Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.”

Does that sound like a threat?  Luke is using this verse to say that the road to God isn’t just going to be for the spiritually fit anymore.  It’s not just for those who can climb spiritual mountains. So When I read those verses, I hear good news.  “All flesh shall see the salvation of God,” Luke quotes.  Remember those huge mountains of sin that stood between you and God?  Those are gonna be bulldozed for you.  And those potholes that caused you to stumble and sin?  They are gonna be filled in.  And those windy crooked paths of following religious laws?  Well those paths are going to be made straight.

The journey to God isn’t going to be about rule following anymore.  It’s not about self-righteousness.  It’s about God coming to change you.  If fact, the word for repentance in Greek – metanoia (can you say that with me?) – really just means change.  A change of mind, a change of heart, a change of being.  And so, when the text says that John went about the Jordan proclaiming a baptism of “repentance,” he’s really proclaiming a baptism of change. In baptism, God doesn’t ask you if you want if you want to live a different way, he’s going about the work of changing you.  Making you new and different.

I want to leave you with a short story about what I think this means in real life.  At the congregation where I interned in Seminary, there was a young couple who had just joined the church.  Eric and Becky.  And these two had just had this cute little pudgy baby boy whom they named Brody.  And so, as you might expect, they started looking into getting Brody baptized when they joined the church. And at some point during this process, Eric started asking his mother about his own baptism because he had never heard any stories about it.

And as it turned out, Eric’s mother had never actually had him baptized as a baby. Though he had grown up assuming that he had been baptized like everybody else.  So he and Becky decided that he wanted to get baptized on the same day that they were going to baptize their son Brody.

I sat down with Eric one day – we actually went out to Applebee’s – and we talked about what baptism was all about, and during that conversation, I asked him about his faith and what it meant to him.  And to be honest, he had the same sort of look on his face as my confirmation students did after I assigned them “I Believe” essays – Deer in the headlights. It as if he had never tried to speak his beliefs out loud.

And so the day came for Eric and Brody to be baptized, and they went ahead and sprinkled some water on Brody and held him up for everybody to see.  Then came Eric’s turn.  He knelt down in front of the font, had cold clear water poured on his forehead, and was baptized alongside his son.  Weeks later he described the experience, and he said that when he knelt down and as the water was being poured over him, he felt an electricity in the air – or as he called it “a buzzing.” 

Call it what you will, but we called it the Holy Spirit.  And in that moment, something changed inside of him.  In the following weeks, you could really see that he really was a different person.  He started stepping up in church and taking leadership roles.  He opened up more in the congregation. He just had a different presence about him.

And a few months later, our head pastor, Pastor Deb, asked Eric – Yes, the very same deer-in-the-headlights-Eric, the very same guy who would have failed his “I Believe” essay – Deb asked him if he would like to describe his experience of baptism not just to his family, not to the church, but to the entire synod at their yearly gathering. 

Now, here was a guy who was uncomfortable talking about his faith to me – one-on-one at Applebee’s. It doesn’t get more relaxed than Applebee’s. If it had been the old Eric, I think he would have looked at Pastor Deb like most of you would look at me if I asked you to speak at a Synod Gathering – like get real Pastor.  But this new Eric – this changed/repented Eric – agreed to share his story in front of a couple hundred pastors and church leaders.

Brothers and sisters in Christ – that’s what repentance looks like.  It looks like change. And not the kind of change that we do, but the kind of change that God does to us.  It’s the kind of change that happens in our bones – at the very deepest levels of who we are.  It’s the kind of change that could come only from God.

As we prepare for the birth of Christ during this season of Advent, God is busy changing you.  That’s what repentance is really about – not merely changing your behaviors, but allowing yourself to be totally changed – down to your very bones – by the living God.  This God is preparing a new way for you to encounter the new-born king. He is bull dozing the mountains and filling in the valleys.  He’s straightening out the crooked roads and filling in the potholes.  When God is done changing you, encountering Jesus will be as easy as walking down a sidewalk, or holding a newborn baby in your arms or splashing cold clear water on your face. 

So go I say! Allow yourself to be totally changed by the living God. Repent all ye sinners!

Amen.

1st Sunday of Advent: December 2, 2012

1^st Sunday of Advent 2012: December 2, 2012

Jeremiah 33:14-16; Luke 21:25-36

 "Signs, signs, everywhere there's signs"

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from the one who is, who was, and who is to come. Amen.

Every year, a large box arrives on our doorstep just before the 1^st Sunday in Advent, and this year was no exception. My sons know this delivery is a sure sign that Christmas is coming. These boxes have been mailed to St. Paul, Minnesota; Lincoln, Nebraska; Waco, Texas; Chicago, Capron, and now Crystal Lake, Illinois, but the sender’s label is always the same: “from Mormor.”

Mormor—the Swedish name for grandmother, a.k.a. my mom—has put together these Advent boxes since the boys were tiny. The idea is simple: every day they each have a tiny gift to open, plus special ones for the Sundays in Advent. Matchbox cars, bouncy balls, tree ornaments, pencils, and chocolates are common fare. Over the years, the boys have perfected their abilities to shake, squeeze, smell, and identify these little packages, moving the PopTarts and marshmallow Santas to the top and the pencils and socks to the bottom of the pile. This year, Mormor called to ask if Caleb and Zion, now 11 and 14, still wanted an Advent box. “YES!” they cried, and with gusto! I think Mormor may have to send Advent boxes to their college dorms in a few years. 

The arrival of the Advent box is a sure sign in our house that “the days are surely coming” when school will be out, when the snow will fall, when the presents will be under the tree—oh, and when Jesus is born among us again on Christmas.

Unfortunately, the biblical texts we have for this first Sunday of Advent, though they are indeed about signs and the expectation of things to come, do not mention chocolates or Advent calendars or twinkling lights or any of the other wonderful signs that Christmas is on its way.

Instead, we hear the words of the prophet Jeremiah, promising to a Jerusalem lying in ruin that “the days are surely coming” when God’s justice and righteousness will rule and Jerusalem will live in peace.

And we hear Jesus’ own words, words spoken to his disciples just before the Last Supper, just before he entered Jerusalem, and just before his earthly ministry ended in a public crucifixion. In those last days, Jesus told those closest to him: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves…Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

It’s strange to hear Jesus speak like this, on a day when we are celebrating the beginning of the new church year, the beginning of Advent, and the beginning of the holiday season of peace, love, and light. These are verses which have been interpreted by many to be signs of the end of all things, and so we may hear these words and envision being “raptured” or, even worse, “left behind.”

But consider that Jesus, himself, was approaching the end. He knew the likely outcome of his radical preaching, healing, and teaching. And he spoke these things to a people who were about to experience the world as they knew it to fall apart around them. 

It may be hard to understand how these words could ever be signs of hope or a promise of peace. We, who live in relative comfort and privilege, feel understandably frightened to hear about the stars and moon and sun moving out of their orbits, or the waves crashing in on us, or nations around us warring with one another. 

But is it possible for us to look outside ourselves and imagine how others might hear these words? 

Imagining ourselves as disciples in the 1^st century may be a stretch—but how might you hear Jesus’ words if you were living in Breezy Point, New York, this holiday season: still without power, your neighbors’ homes flooded and destroyed, your car filled with mold, your business unable to open, the insurance check not yet arrived, your kids wondering if Christmas will happen this year?

And how might you hear these words from Jesus if you lived in Syria today: the bombs relentlessly coming, your children hungry, the priest of your church killed in the crossfire, internet and phone communications cut off for the last 4 days countrywide? 

And, if you can do this—if you can imagine yourself in Breezy Point or Syria—then can you imagine how might you hear these words from Jesus when you’ve been out of work for 2 years, when the foreclosure is nearly complete, when the next drink is your first thought in the morning, when the doctors say your 11 year old child’s cancer has spread, or when the marriage counseling just isn’t working? 

Of course, the truth is, in spite of the lights and the trees and the parties of the season, and in glaring contrast to our beautiful surroundings today, for many among us—for many sitting in these pews today—Advent is not a season of peace. For many of us, the heavens are shaking. The things we thought were as constant and permanent as the sun and moon and stars in the sky are falling down around us. Powers and principalities, systems and situations we cannot control are roaring like a tsunami through our lives. 

And if these are the signs you see in your life this December, then perhaps these verses do not sound so out of place this morning. Instead of a prediction of the end, you might hear a description of your current reality. Instead of looking to the skies and wondering when Jesus is coming and whether you will be “left behind”, you hear these words and know that you can hang on—not because Christmas is coming, but because Jesus is coming again. 

Theologian and poet Dom Helder Camara, in his poem “It’s Midnight, Lord”, speaks of the way Jesus comes when we need him the most: 

“In the middle of the night,

When stark night was darkest,

Then You chose to come.

It is true, Lord, it is midnight upon the earth,

Moonless night and starved of stars.

But can we forget that You,

The Son of God,

Chose to be born precisely at midnight?

If you had been afraid of shadow

You would have been born at noon.

But you preferred the night.

Lord, you were born in the

Middle of the night

Because midnight is

Pregnant with dawn....

The darker the night,

The more joyful the dance;

The deadly past is dead

When the sun is reborn--

Precious present, gift of now.” 

Sisters and brothers in Christ, we can all hear these words and find the strength to stand up and raise our heads, for Jesus, his kingdom, and his peace, are drawing near. 

Yes, I want you to stand up! Stand up, because you know that when the credit card bills are piling up, when the doctor’s report is terrible, when the news from the Middle East is ominous, when the fiscal cliff is looming before us, we can trust in the One who said: “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Stand up, because you may be in the midst of your bleak midwinter, but Jesus says spring is coming.

Stand up, because “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away” says the Lord.

And so, my dear people, on this first Sunday of Advent, as you prepare for that holy day when we, with all the choirs of angels, praise God for being born among us a baby, I hope you will also find strength, and courage, and peace, to stand in the promise that Christ will come again. 

Chiefly, I pray that you will know that you are not alone. Know that the Bethany community, and the worldwide community of Christians, stands with you today, and joins you in praying this Advent season: Come, Lord Jesus.

Come, O Prince of Peace, and set your people free.

Come, and set things straight in our community.

Come, and make peace between nations.

Come, and make peace in my household.

Come, Lord Jesus, and be born once again in my heart, in my community, and in my world. Amen.