Why I Gave Up New Year's Resolutions

I'm sitting in my office at my desk and I just looked over to my right, and I suddenly realized: I need to get a new calendar. There are no days left on my calendar. It's December 31. And I'm going out for New Year's Eve tonight, and by the time I get home it will be 2015. (Note to self: before leaving office, thrown 2014 calendar in the garbage.)

January 1 seems so arbitrary to me. I'm thinking here of so-called New Year's Resolutions. Why "New Year's" Resolutions? Why not just "Resolutions"? I've often told people that long, long ago I set a New Year's Resolution that I have been able to keep for many years - I resolved to never again make a New Year's Resolution. So, far - so good! Mission accomplished. And now I'm wondering why we make New Year's Resolutions anyway? Yeah. I get the significance of the date. It IS a new year after all. So, sure, you want to start things off on the right foot, so to speak. But it still strikes me as arbitrary. And, spiritually, well - why? What's the point of deciding that all (or at least some) good things will start or all (or at least some) bad things will stop on January 1? Let me share my three biggest spiritual objections to New Year's Resolutions.

First, you're setting yourself up for failure. We all know that people who make New Year's Resolutions don't keep most of them. Often, it's only a matter of time before we break down. So, why set yourself up like that? Why make such a big thing out of deciding to do something or not do something that you actually give it a name and a date that ensures that when you fail you're going to remember? That doesn't make sense. That's very close to planning for failure - which is never a recipe for success, unless, of course, you want to fail, in which case you'll probably succeed. But if your goal is actually to do something positive or to stop doing something negative, then why start by setting yourself up so blatantly to fail? That doesn't make sense.

Second (and very much related to the first) is that the probability of failure is almost a denial of divine grace. Why do I say that? Because you're going to feel like a failure when you don't do the thing you pledged to do or stop the thing you pledged to stop. And it seems to me that the more you set yourself up for failure, the more you're going to fail, and the more you're going to fail at something you pledged to succeed at, the less likely it is that you're going to feel as if God wants to shower you with grace. He does. God wants to shower you with grace. So commit to doing your best in all things. Commit to living a life more fully reflecting the life of Jesus. Don't expect that it's going to happen all at once. Don't make it an all or nothing / success or failure sort of thing. Christianity is about ongoing transformation. If we get it into our heads that everything's going to be fine as of January 1 when our New Year's Resolution takes effect, then we're going to find ourselves pretty guilty when we wake up on January 1 and discover that we're not much different than we were on December 31. If you make it a "Resolution" then you have to do it or not do it and never slip up. If you make it a part of your ongoing walk of faith, you can let the Holy Spirit work on you gradually.

Finally, why procrastinate? Let me put it this way. If there's something in your life that really, really needs to change right away then why put it off? If there's something you're doing that you know you shouldn't be doing then why set a deadline? Jesus didn't say to the woman caught in adultery, "Go and sin no more beginning on January 1." He said "Go and sin no more." If there's something that you really should be doing but you've been putting off then why put it off some more. Jesus didn't say "love your neighbour starting on January 1." He just said "love your neighbour." Start making the changes you need to make right away (keeping in mind what I said above that there will always be slip ups along the way, and that God's grace will cover those.) But don't put off making positive changes for the sake of some arbitrary date on the calendar.

I understand the appeal of New Year's Resolutions. January 1 may be arbitrary, but it has a symbolic value - even from a spiritual point of view. Paul tells us that in Christ we are a new creation - that the old has passed away and the new has come. What better way to symbolize that then by connecting positive changes to January 1? Except for the three things I mentioned above!

Just change what you need to change. Don't wait for January 1. If the thought comes to you on September 16, and it seems good to the Holy Spirit and to you, then make the change then rather than waiting until January 1.

As for me, I'm still going to keep the one New Year's Resolution that I've never broken - no New Year's Resolutions for me this year. I'm just gonna take life as it comes, a day at a time, and try to remember that Jesus is walking the path with me every day.

A Thought For The Week Of December 29

"For all the gods of the nations are idols,  but the Lord made the heavens." (Psalm 96:5) The words "all the gods of the nations" strike home with me today. How easy it is for us to set up our own gods; to choose to devote our lives to something and to make that "something" the only thing that matters to us. There are, of course, all sorts of gods all around us. The phrase "the gods of the nations" is interesting. I'm taking this a wee bit out of context (it means the gods of all the different peoples) but there's still a connection here that works. One of the primary "gods of the nations" is the nation itself. Nation-states set themselves up as almost god-like entities. They demand absolute loyalty from their citizens, and they threaten punishment (or at least consequences) to those who don't offer absolute loyalty. And isn't that essentially what a "god" does? And I wonder how much of our faith as Christians has been impacted by this vision of what nations and gods do? We claim to believe in a God of love and grace, and yet too often we ourselves almost equate God with the nation, and we attribute to God the same qualities possessed by the nation - the demand for absolute loyalty and the threat of punishment or consequences for disloyalty. But is that really God? The God revealed by Jesus? To me, it's a warped image of God - warped by the entanglement of the church with the state and put in place by those (in both the nation and the church) who want to demand absolute loyalty from their people. Maybe that's why the Psalm tells us to "say among the nations, 'The Lord reigns.'" We're to constantly call people away from idolatry - away from the attempts of nation, church or anything else to draw us away from God. God - revealed by Jesus - is a God of love, grace, mercy and forgiveness. That God has the only real claim on our allegiance, our loyalty or our faith. As a new year beckons us to adventures unknown, my prayer is that we will give our allegiance to God, and leave all our other gods behind us.

December 24 (11pm) sermon: From Joseph's Perspective

 This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfil what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel”(which means “God with us”). When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.

(Matthew 1:18-25)

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     When I meet with couples who are preparing to be married, there's one piece of advice that I always give to the grooms – I tell them that they have to remember and accept that the wedding at least is all about the bride. Just nod your head and say, “yes, honey. I agree.” It's the easiest way. It really is. Because the bride will get her way anyway as the marriage is planned, and frankly planning a wedding is a bit of a headache anyway if you're a guy. Sit back, put your feet up, watch hockey and football and just say “yes.” Just agree. It makes life a lot simpler. I was thinking about that as I was looking ahead to Christmas Eve this year. I don't usually deal with either of the actual Christmas stories at the Communion service. I figure that I've done that at 7:00. Why go through it again. So I usually try to find something a little bit deeper – befitting Holy Communion. But I started thinking about the two Christmas stories – Luke's which we read at 7:00, and Matthew's, which we just read a moment ago. They're very different stories, and one thing that leaps out at me as I read them is that Joseph would probably understand my advice if he and Mary were asking me to conduct their wedding. Think about this. Eight verses. That's all Joseph gets. Eight pretty skimpy verses. In the entire New Testament, as far as I can tell, Joseph gets mentioned a paltry 15 times. Meanwhile, Mary's story takes up the better part of two entire chapters of Luke's Gospel, and she remains a part of the story until the very end, watching as Jesus is crucified. It's all about Mary, it seems.

     But I don't want us to forget about Joseph. There are a variety of reasons that people think might be the reason for the rather short shrift he gets. Some think that he was likely old and perhaps died not long after Jesus was born. That's possible, but others think there's a more reasonable explanation – the early Christians just didn't know what to make of Joseph, and they were perhaps a little embarrassed by him. After all, Jesus' father was God. The story is very clear about that. So what place does Joseph really have?

     Some would say that the important thing about Joseph is that he's Jesus' link (even if a bit of a tenuous one, since God is really Jesus' father) to the house of David – which was necessary for Jesus to be the Jewish Messiah. Some would say that Joseph teaches us to be kind and merciful and compassionate. After all, when Mary broke the news that she was pregnant, Joseph could perhaps have been excused if his reaction had been a little bit harsh. Instead, rather than humiliating her or even handing her over to be stoned (which he could have done) Joseph simply decides to handle the whole matter quietly. Some see Joseph as the protector of his family. When Herod resolved to kill all the baby boys of Bethlehem, Joseph took his family out of harm's way to Egypt. Those are all wonderful qualities of Joseph – qualities we should try to display in our own lives. But I think there's something more about Joseph that often gets overlooked: Joseph was a man of very deep faith.

     When you think about the story, it would have been very easy for Joseph not to believe. His fiance had come to him and told him that she was pregnant – and that no man was responsible; it was God's doing. Ready to walk out of the proposed marriage, Joseph is visited by an angel – and gets the impossible story shared with him again. And – somehow and in some way (and I'm not sure I'd have responded this way) Joseph believed. Joseph seemed to grasp that God could work in the most mysterious and unexpected of ways. When Joseph heard from God – no matter how unbelievable and even ridiculous the message may have seemed – Joseph believed, and Joseph acted.

     Joseph is a model of faith. Gathered here tonight, let's not forget his important place in the Christmas story.

December 24 (7pm) sermon: Christmas, Sir, Is A Humbug!

 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to their own town to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

(Luke 2:1-20)

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     I love Dickens. He is truly one of the great authors in the history of the English language. Ovet the course of his life, Dickens wrote 15 novels. The most famous were probably “Great Expectations” and “A Tale of Two Cities.” But he's probably best known for one work in particular: “A Christmas Carol.” It's the story of the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge – probably Dickens' most iconic character - whose sole goal in life seems to be to take the joy out of Christmas for everyone connected with him, but who, in the end, undergoes a monumental transformation of heart and soul as the result of visits from the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future. But while we applaud Scrooge's transformation, the image most people have of him is of the miser. In fact, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary includes the word “scrooge.” It's a noun, defined as “a miserly person.” Among the synonyms the dictionary offers for “scrooge” are cheapskate, skinflint, tightwad and penny-pincher. Well, sometimes I like to go against the grain, and I started wondering if poor old Ebenezer wasn't getting a bit of a bad rap. Maybe he understood something about Christmas that the rest of us don't. In the most famous movie version of the story, we first meet Ebenezer on Christmas Eve of 1843 – and we're outside the London Stock Exchange.

 BUSINESS MAN #1

Ah, Mister Scrooge...

SCROOGE 

Your servant, sir.

BUSINESS MAN #1

Are you off home to keep Christmas?

SCROOGE 

I am not in the habit of keeping Christmas, 

sir.

BUSINESS MAN #2

Then why are you leaving so early?

SCROOGE 

Christmas has a habit of keeping men from 

doing business.

BUSINESS MAN #2

Come, it's in the nature of things that ants 

toil and grasshoppers sing and play, Mister 

Scrooge.

SCROOGE 

An ant is what it is and a grasshopper is what 

it is and Christmas, sir, is a humbug. Good 

day.

     Poor Ebenezer. He sounds so miserable. Think of those words: “Christmas, sir, is a humbug.” A humbug! You know what? I didn't even know what a “humbug” was – but it's not an insect like ants or grasshoppers! So, what was Ebenezer saying? Well, I looked up “humbug” in my dictionary. In Britain, it's a mint-flavoured candy, but I don't think that's what Ebenezer was referring to. I think he was thinking more along the lines of this definition that Merriam-Webster includes: “ an attitude or spirit of pretense and deception.” Really? Christmas could be thought of in that way? But – but – Christmas is so wonderful. And, as we all know, people are so much happier and friendlier and more generous at Christmas. Which might actually be the problem. Is it possible that our friend Ebenezer might have been on to something. Could Christmas really be a humbug? Could it be filled with pretense and deception? Let's fast forward through the story a bit. It's later on Christmas Eve. At his office, Ebenezer is visited by two more businessmen, who are on a mission that Ebenezer is not going to think too kindly toward.

BUSINESSMAN # 1: This is Scrooge & Marley's, I believe. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?

SCROOGE: Mr. Marley has been dead these past seven years. In fact, he died seven years ago this very night.

BUSINESSMAN # 1: Well, we have no doubt that his generosity is well represented by his surviving partner.

BUSINESSMAN # 2: At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly. Many thousands are in want of the most basic necessities; many more thousands are in want of the most common comfort, sir.

SCROOGE: Really? Are there no prisons?

BUSINESSMAN # 2: There are plenty of prisons, Mr. Scrooge.

SCROOGE: And the Union workhouses? Are they still in operation?

BUSINESSMAN # 1: They are, sir. Still, I wish that I could say that they were not.

SCROOGE: The Treadmill and the Poor Law – they must be still in full vigour, then.

BUSINESSMAN # 2: They are both very busy, sir.

SCROOGE: Well, I am relieved. I was afraid, from what you had said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful courses. I'm very glad to hear otherwise.

BUSINESSMAN # 1: I don't think you understand, sir. Such things scarcely furnish Christian cheer of either mind or body to the multitudes, and so a few of us, who are more fortunate, are endeavouring to raise a fund to buy the poor some meat and drink and means of warmth.

SCROOGE: Why?

BUSINESSMAN # 2: We choose this time, Mr. Scrooge, because it is a time above all others when want is keenly felt. What shall I put you down for?

SCROOGE: Why, nothing of course.

BUSINESSMAN # 1: I see. You wish to remain anonymous.

SCROOGE: I wish to be left alone, gentlemen. You ask me what I wish – that is what I wish. I don't make myself merry at Christmas, and I can't afford to make the idle people merry. I help to support the establishments I mentioned through my taxes. They cost enough, and those who are badly off must take advantage of them.

BUSINESSMAN # 2: But many can't, Mr. Scrooge. And some would rather die.

SCROOGE: Well, if they would rather die, then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.

BUSINESSMAN # 1: But you're a wealthy man of business, sir. Surely you can have some pity?

SCROOGE: Pity is not my business. It's enough for a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with other people's. My business occupies me constantly. Good afternoon, gentlemen.

BUSINESSMAN # 2: But, Mr. Scrooge ...

SCROOGE: GOOD AFTERNOON, GENTLEMEN!

     Wow. The dictionary was right! What a cheapskate! What a tightwad! What a skinflint and penny-pincher this Mr. Scrooge was. I mean, all these poor businessmen wanted was to “ make some slight provision for the poor and destitute.” Oh. Wait a second. I wonder why they only want to make a “slight provision”? And why, only, at “this time.” Scrooge gets all the bad press – but I wonder if he didn't realize something about this Christmas spirit of generosity that these businessmen were so busy promoting. Were they really hoping to help the poor and destitute? Surely, if they had real concern for the poor and destitute, they'd be making more than a “slight provision” for them – and they'd be doing it more than simply once a year. I wonder if this might not be the sort of thing that convinced Ebenezer that “Christmas, sir, is a humbug.” Maybe Ebenezer realized that if Christmas only makes a difference for one day or a few days out of the year then it means nothing. If that's as seriously as we take the appearance of Jesus, the coming of God to earth, then maybe there is “an attitude or spirit of pretense and deception” around this thing we call Christmas. Because, as the Ghost of Christmas Present said to Ebenezer, “the child born in Bethlehem does not live just one day of the year, but all the days of the year.” Perhaps, Ebenezer realized, as he talked wit these businessmen, that they hadn't been touched by the spirit of Christmas and they hadn't been changed by the spirit of Christmas. They had, at most, been shamed by the spirit of Christmas into making “some slight provision for the poor and destitute” - perhaps a result of feeling guilty that they did nothing for the poor and destitute the rest of the year. Perhaps. And, if so – then, indeed, Christmas is a humbug.

     How do we make sure that Christmas isn't a humbug in our own lives? By realizing that God doesn't ask us to be generous and cheerful only for a few days out of the year – but for all the days of the year. Only by allowing the spirit of God to transform us completely, and not simply by letting the spirit of Christmas transform us for a few days.

     There came a point when Ebenezer realized that Christmas was not a humbug; when he realized that it actually meant something. Dickens makes that clear. Ebenezer

became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they shuld wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. ... And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge.

     Ebenezer knew how to keep Christmas well because he finally realized that Christmas had to make a difference to his entire life, and not just to a few days out of the year. And so, I leave you with the words of Charles Dickens: “May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, God Bless Us, Every One!”

A Thought For The Week Of December 22

"The angel went to her and said, 'Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.' Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be." (Luke 1:28-29) Sometimes when God calls us to do his work it is perplexing and troubling and maybe even frightening. Because, really, who are we to do God's work? That seems to have been Mary's reaction to the news that she was favoured by God. "Greetings, you who are highly favoured! The Lord is with you." I can imagine Mary's reaction. It would probably be something like, "Uh oh. What does he want?" Caution, suspicion, even fear. That would be a normal response. Let's face it. God generally calls us to do the things we'd really rather not do. If we really wanted to do them, after all, we'd be doing them already. And when God calls us, we say "Uh oh. What do you want? Really? You must want someone else. It couldn't be me." Because, really, why would it be me? Or you? Who are we that God should call us? And even in the Bible, so many of those called by God didn't want to be called by God and sometimes tried to avoid and escape from that divine call. Because God asks us to do tough things, not easy things. So we think - "there must be someone else." Even Mary was troubled and perplexed and frightened by God's call. But when you stop and think about it - who else is there? Who else will God call? And if it really is God calling, then surely God must see in us the ability to do what we feel called to do. We just have to listen for the call. We have to try to figure out who our "angel" is - who it is who speaks God's word to us and brings God's call to us - because, after all, an angel is a messenger, and not necessarily a spiritual being. Mary responded to her angel. She was troubled by it all, but she responded. I guess we should too, when we're convinced that God is calling. Have a great week, and a very merry Christmas!

December 21 sermon: Failure Is Not An Option

In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.” “I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her. 

(Luke 1:26-38)

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    It’s dangerous to assume anything, of course, but I have a high degree of suspicion that most people are familiar with Apollo 13. It was the mission to the moon that didn’t get to the moon. It launched on April 11, 1970, and two days later an oxygen tank on board exploded, crippling the ship. The crew had to deal with problems such as loss of electrical power, limited heat and a serious shortage of drinkable water. Most dangerous, though, was that the air filtration system - which removed carbon dioxide from the capsule and replaced it with oxygen - was severely damaged. The problems with trying to fix it were well documented by the 1995 movie “Apollo 13.” Trying to fix the system meant literally trying to find a way to fit a square peg into a round hole. The technicians at Mission Control were mystified. They were ordered by the head of Mission Control to look at every option available to find a solution. They were given only one restriction - “failure,” they were told, “is not an option.” And it wasn’t. A solution was found, and a jury-rigged air filtration system lasted long enough to get the three astronauts safely back to earth. Too many people, I think, look for reasons to fail rather than opportunities to succeed because, truth be told, it’s a lot easier to fail than it is to succeed. As I’ve sometimes said, if you really, really want to succeed - then plan to fail, because if you plan to fail, you’ll succeed at that plan every time.

    God never plans to fail. Somehow, and in some way, God’s plans will work out. It’s not always easy to see. The world doesn’t always make it easy to see - but it’s true. God doesn’t plan to fail, and God will not fail. God’s promises will not fail. As the angel said to Mary, “no word from God will ever fail.” But sometimes we wonder don’t we. “We hear the Christmas angels - their great glad tidings tell …” But the tidings are of peace on earth. The tidings are of good will and justice. We don’t have to look very far to see examples of places where there’s no peace. About 150 innocent children killed by terrorists at a school in Pakistan. That isn’t peace. A former Vice President of the United States saying that he doesn’t care if innocent people got picked up and tortured in the fight against terrorism. That isn’t good will and justice. And those are just two noteworthy examples from the news in the last few days. Peace? Good will? Justice? These are promised by God’s word. Has God’s word failed? I don’t think so. Because failure is not an option when it comes to God’s word.

    Think about Mary in this passage? How must she have felt about God’s word? Here she was, a young woman about to be married, almost certainly with children to come afterward - told that she’d be pregnant and giving birth before the marriage. Maybe that isn't such a big deal in 2014, but 2000 years ago it was a big deal! A very big deal! She’d be humiliated and probably cast aside by Joseph - quite possibly stoned. And none of it was her fault. Where was justice for Mary? Where could she go to find peace? How could she possibly expect to encounter good will? Fortunately, the Christmas story tells us that Joseph had a visit from the same angel to explain the situation to him, and he believed what the angel told him, but did life get that much easier for Mary?

    She watched her son grow up. She watched as he incurred the wrath of the religious leaders and the anger of local officials of the Roman Empire. For all we know, she may have been among the members of Jesus’ family referred to in Mark 3:21 who, concerned that he was angering so many people, thought that Jesus was “out of his mind.” She watched as he was put on trial, condemned and crucified - dying for proclaiming the love and grace of God. As she watched the baby she had given birth to in a manger taking his last agonizing breaths on the cross, I wonder what she thought about those words - “no word from God will ever fail.” It must have looked like failure to Mary.

    So, did the word of God fail? Let’s think for a moment. What is the word of God? From John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God and the word was God. … And the word became flesh and dwelt among us.” There’s a deep truth that John shares with us here. The true word of God isn’t the Bible. I honour the Bible. It has a cherished place in my heart. But the true word of God is Jesus. The Bible is made up of words on pages. Jesus was God’s word lived out, put into action, demonstrating God’s ways. So if we want to hold on to the words the angel offered to Mary - “No word from God will ever fail” - then the question we’re really asking is whether Jesus failed. The answer, to me, is clearly no.

    Jesus overcame. Jesus faced all that the powerful of his day could throw at him, and he overcame. He was born in humble circumstances - but he changed the world. His life was a short one, not much travelled - but he changed the world. His death was horrendous; even gruesome - but he changed the world. All because the child who was born in a manger and the man who died on a cross would rise from the dead and show us that God could triumph over even those things that seem to have the most power over us.

    You see, Christmas leads to Easter. You should never take one without the other, because if you do you only get a small part of the story, but you need the whole story to really understand what God is saying. This is what Christian faith is all about: Christmas leads to Easter; sorrow leads to joy; despair leads to hope; crucifixion leads to resurrection; death leads to life. “No word from God will ever fail.” That doesn’t mean it’s always going to be easy. That doesn’t mean there will never be troubles along the way. That doesn’t mean that we won’t sometimes suffer heart-wrenching sorrow and despair on the path. Mary did. So did Jesus. But they both knew this - “no word from God will ever fail.” God would see them through anything. God will see us through anything. Failure, indeed, is not an option.

A Thought For The Week Of December 15

"I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death." (Philippians 1:20) I hope that I will never be ashamed of Christ. One of the things that our society seems to try to do to us is shame us into not being open about our faith. Faith and religion we're told are private matters to be lived out at home or in church, but not publicly. That, of course, would be to fundamentally deny the gospel, which tells us to make disciples. You can't make disciples if you';re ashamed of your faith or if you're shamed into keeping your faith to yourself. So I think Christians need to be bolder  in speaking publicly about what we believe. Not aggressive or obnoxious or judgmental or arrogant - but bolder in proclaiming to all that the grace of God has come in Jesus. Things, of course, were much harder in Paul's day. Here in Canada, aside from the fact that some people won;t like it, there's really no risk involved in sharing our faith or talking about grace or Jesus. In Paul's day the risk was greater, so he writes that "Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death." He was willing to give his life for Christ - we're only called to live for Christ; to not be ashamed of letting the people around us know that Jesus is, in fact, our Lord. Christmas gives us an opportunity to do that - because it's the one time of year when people are expecting to hear the story, it's a little less threatening perhaps for us to tell the story. So, take advantage of this opportunity to tell people about Jesus. Have a great week!

I've Been Thinking About Christmas Carols

I sat down a few days ago and spent several hours trying to come up with a rotation of Christmas carols to be used in our church services this year. As I knew would happen (because it always happens) I ended up in a discussion about whether or not we should even be singing Christmas carols during Advent. For those of you in churches that don't follow the liturgical year, Advent is the four weeks of preparation before Christmas Day, and some folks are very adamant that Christmas carols not be used during Advent. Something about the church giving in to the Christmas excesses that start so early now (I've seen artificial Christmas trees on the shelves in August!) Maybe there's something to be said for that. When one of our local radio stations announced that it was playing Christmas music "24/7" (before November was even over) I did sigh a bit - and within a couple of weeks I was getting increasingly tired of "Feliz Navidad." It's a wonderful song - the first 25 times you hear it within a couple of weeks. But, even if I might be accused of contributing to the Christmas excesses, I still use Christmas carols during Advent - not to buy into the secular Christmas excess, and not just because I like many of them, but because I think there's some very important theology contained in Christmas carols.

If I see a problem in many corners of the church these days it's that even Christians have a very poor understanding of the importance of the incarnation. The incarnation refers to the belief that in the life of Jesus, God became flesh and experienced human life, with all its joys and all its sorrows. To me, incarnation is central to Christianity. It is the ultimate sign of divine love - that the God who created the universe would love what he created so much that he would choose to become a part of it. That, to me, is love. Incarnation speaks of love. Incarnation is vital, as far as I'm concerned. But lots of people don't get it. And it seems to me that Christmas carols are a potential part of the solution.

Over the years I've learned that many people get their basic theological ideas from the songs that they sing or that they've heard. Songs tend to stick in our memories. They influence how we think or how we feel. Some songs can bring tears to people's eyes because they touch our emotions. Some songs can  make us think because they challenge us. Christmas carols it seems to me have the opportunity to do both. They remind us of happy times in the past and they help usher us into a season of good cheer, but they also confront us with the reality of incarnation.

Christmas carols are the only songs we have in the church that really speak passionately and overtly about the divine incarnation in Jesus. If, as a church, we choose to restrict their use to a 2 or 3 week period during the year then it seems to me that we should hardly be surprised when increasing numbers of Christians doubt the incarnation or at least doubt its importance. If the songs of incarnation aren't important enough for the church to sing outside the narrow window of December 24 to January 6, then what is the church saying about the importance of the message they contain? And, in any event, would God really disapprove of singing Christmas carols during Advent? I don't think so. Which is why I spent that time working out a rotation of carols for seevral services and not just a couple.

A Thought For The Week Of December 8

"For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body- whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free - and we were all given the one Spirit to drink." 1 Corinthians 12:13 offers us a vision of unity within the church - the way it should be, you might say, but the way it rarely is. We divide ourselves up over so many different points - and so many of those points are things that really seem to have little to do with what Christ taught. I think, for example, of the issue of authority in the church: who has it, who gets to exercise it, and how does it get exercised - which seems  so meaningless when you consider that we are supposed to be following Jesus, who said of himself that he came not to be served but to serve. And, of course, we divide on the understanding of baptism and the Holy Spirit.I think this verse speaks very clearly to that. How we baptize with water (immersion, sprinkling, etc.) is really rather meaningless. Who we baptize (infants or adults) is really rather meaningless. It's the Holy Spirit who really baptizes us and incorporates us into the church - water or not. And when I say that the Holy Spirit baptizes us, I'm not thinking in the charismatic sense of the word - accompanied by so-called signs and wonders. What I'm suggesting is that the Holy Spirit baptizes us by simply sealing our relationship with Jesus - by making us one with him and a part of the church, with no signs or wonders required. You know that you've been baptized by the Holy Spirit not because you speak in tongues, for example, but because you feel yourself (in fact, you know yourself) to be one with Christ. That, after all, is the work of the Holy Spirit - to unify the body of Christ and bring us together, and not to drive another wedge between us. Have a great week!

December 7 sermon: Awaiting A Salvation That's Already Ours

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise,as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him. Bear in mind that our Lord’s patience means salvation …

(2 Peter 3:8-15a)

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     There’s a story of a young girl who was walking past a church one day not too long before Christmas. Outside the church was a bench, and a very grumpy looking older man was sitting on it, looking as if he was muttering something to himself. The little girl didn’t like seeing anyone looking so grumpy so close to Christmas, so she cautiously approached the man. “Are you OK, sir?” “I’m perfectly fine. I’d just like to be left alone if you don’t mind,” said the grumpy looking man. Well, the little girl was a little bit taken aback by the brusqueness of the man’s response, but she didn’t want to give up. After all, Christmas was coming, and that’s a time of good cheer. So she said to him, “Mister, you know you’re sitting outside a church. Do you know that Jesus came to love you and to save you.” The man got more irritated. “I don’t need a little girl telling me about Jesus,” he said. “I happen to have been an elder of this church for over 40 years. Did you know that?” The little girl gulped. “No, mister, I didn’t know that. But it’s OK. Jesus can forgive you for anything.”

     Forgiveness. More to the point - salvation. A few minutes ago the children’s Choir sang “S is for the star that shines so bright.” It could also be “S is for salvation that shines so bright.” It’s what we start to think about at this time of year. Salvation in the present and salvation to come. As one of the Advent hymns in Voices United says, “Tomorrow Christ is coming, as yesterday he came.” The “tomorrow” being referred to isn’t December 25 - it’s the end of time, when salvation covers the earth, and the “yesterday” isn’t last December 25 - it’s the actual birth of Jesus, when grace and salvation appeared in Bethlehem and lived among us for a little while, just giving us a glimpse of what God’s perfect Kingdom will be like, all contained in that one life. What you see in the life of Jesus is what the Kingdom of God will look like. No outsiders - everyone being welcomed in. If you are excluded, it’s only because you choose to exclude yourself, but thanks to Jesus the doors to that Kingdom are wide open. That’s salvation. But salvation is a tough concept for a lot of people. I think the word has acquired some baggage over the years with the way it’s been both used and abused. It means being lifted out of the things that trap us and hold us in bondage; being freed from the things that prevent us from truly seeing and experiencing God in our midst. That’s salvation. But it’s a difficult concept to grasp.

     Paul says in Philippians 2:12 that we’re to “work out [our] salvation with fear and trembling.” I’ve always been intrigued by that. Why fear and trembling? Is it because we don’t trust God? Maybe, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s because we’re all too aware of what you might call the baggage - the baggage we’re very conscious of in our own lives - the sins if you will that we need to be saved from - and many people just have a natural reluctance to believe that God could really save them or forgive them from things in their past. I’ve known many people (some on their deathbeds) who are very faithful but who are also still fearful - tormented by their past - and who can’t quite believe that God has forgiven them. Good news is sometimes tough to believe (the old “it’s too good to be true” notion) and sometimes we can’t grasp it. I know others who are in such despair about the state of the world (war, violence, potential environmental catastrophe, etc., etc.) that they can’t see any way out and they just live waiting for the end and planning to save themselves - like the so-called “preppers” you sometimes hear about who stockpile weapons and enough food to see themselves through years and to defend themselves against the pathetic folk who’ll try to take what they’ve got. Neither are showing trust in God. They’re either doubting God’s ability to save them, or they believe they have to save themselves. At best, they’re working out their salvation with fear and trembling. And I expect that there were variations of both types of people in Jesus’ day. That’s probably one reason that our passage today said that, “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness.” People who start to doubt God’s ability to do anything about the sin that’s so obviously present in the world (either within us or around us) are forgetting that God’s promises are certain. That’s why, instead of being slow, Jesus says that God is being “... patient ... not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”

     Perhaps that’s what Advent and Christmas are all about. They’re reminders to us. Advent reminds us that God has a plan to bring everything back to the way it should be, and the brief appearance of Jesus was to give us hope by giving us a vision (shown through his life) of how God wants us to live. 

     The wording of this passage sounds ominous, foreboding and even frightening, but I don’t think it’s meant to be. Perhaps everything will be destroyed by fire. Actually, even science tells us that will happen (although science tells us that day is about 5 billion years away, while Scripture tends to leave the date open!) but what is fire really? It’s a means of purification - it’s how things are refined and cleansed of their impurities and made to be the way they should be. We think of it as a frightening thing, but it’s actually a good image to speak about the fulfilment of God’s plan, of which we got a glimpse in the life of Jesus - a plan that’s the ultimate fulfilment of God’s desire for the salvation of the world. We’re simply called to be the bearers of good news - that for all its problems and faults, and as frightening as it may sometimes seem - God loves this world he created and God loves we who live in it, and God will save both it and us. In a hymn written in 1882, Priscilla Owens wrote:

We have heard the joyful sound:

Jesus saves! Jesus saves!

Spread the tidings all around:

Jesus saves! Jesus saves!

Bear the news to every land,

Climb the mountains, cross the waves;

Onward! ’tis our Lord’s command;

Jesus saves! Jesus saves!

     That really is good news!

A Thought For The Week Of December 1

"Altogether, Jared lived a total of 962 years, and then he died." (Genesis 5:20) I've always felt a little sympathy for runners-up. To finish second (to be the second best at anything) is actually pretty impressive in my opinion. But, for the most part, all the attention goes to the person who finishes first.  That's generally the way it is in the world. We notice those who win, and everyone who doesn't win is pretty much forgotten. The New York Islanders won 4 consecutive Stanley Cups between 1980 and 1983. How many people remember the teams they beat? For the record, it was the Philadelphia Flyers, the Minnesota North Stars, the Vancouver Canucks and the Edmonton Oilers - but who knew? All we really think about is who won, not who lost! Now I'm not part of that movement who thinks that we shouldn't have winners and losers; that no child should play a game where someone loses because it will hurt their self-esteem. Please. I've probably learned more from losing and failure over the years than I have from winning and success. Children need to know how to lose; how to react appropriately when things don't go their way. Because they won't always g their way. But I still feel sorry for the runners-up. That's all. According to the biblical account of creation, the oldest man who ever lived was Methusaleh. He is said to have lived 969 years! A lot of people still know that, or - if they don't know that he was the oldest person the Bible refers to - at least they're familiar with the name. But how many people would know who Jared was? He was the second longest living person in the story of creation. He lived 962 years! But who knew? I didn't. I only noticed it when reading through Genesis 5 the other morning. And believe it or not, that made me think of Advent, which started yesterday. Poor Advent. It's usually overlooked in the rush to get to Christmas. There's so much to do: gifts to buy, cards to send, family to visit, parties to attend. Do we even think about Advent? Probably not all that often. Like most other people, Christians just call this time of year the Christmas season. Advent, if marked at all, is in a distant second place. Take some time to think about Advent this week: remember, it's really about the promise of God that, in the end, whatever struggles we might face, Christ will be victorious. And that's pretty good news. Have a great week!

November 30 sermon: Signs Of The Season

 “But in those days, following that distress, ‘the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’ At that time people will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with great power and glory. And he will send his angels and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. “Now learn this lesson from the fig tree: As soon as its twigs get tender and its leaves come out, you know that summer is near. Even so, when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door. Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away. “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a man going away: He leaves his house and puts his servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tells the one at the door to keep watch. Therefore keep watch because you do not know when the owner of the house will come back - whether in the evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. If he comes suddenly, do not let him find you sleeping. What I say to you, I say to everyone: ‘Watch!’”

(Mark 13:24-37)

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     Last Monday night was quite a night. I’m sure you all remember the wind storm. Yeah. It was quite a night. In the midst of it I had to go out to Food Basics to pick up a couple of things we had run short on. Much to my surprise, as I turned into the parking lot I had to suddenly swerve - to miss a tree! Food Basics already has their Christmas trees out as you may have noticed, and on that particular night, one had actually been blown right off the sidewalk and into the parking lot! We’re talking about a tree! Yes - a Christmas tree, so it wasn’t a giant oak planted in the ground, but still - it was a tree! Blowing around the parking lot! You never know what to expect. It did, however, remind me of the power of the Holy Spirit - a sometimes unexpected and always uncontrollable power. The word we translate as “Spirit” means - in both Hebrew and Greek - “wind” or “breath.” So when the wind blows and howls, it always reminds me of how God’s Spirit is always present, and always working to bring God’s plans into effect. The wind is a sign of the presence of God.

     And this is the time of year when we start to look for signs - although most of us probably don’t look for the right signs. We start to think about the signs of Christmas. Actually, we start to see the signs of Christmas long before this. I’ve seen ads for Christmas music CDs in the United Church Observer as early as September, and I do remember seeing artificial Christmas trees on sale in Costco in August. But the signs of the approach of Christmas start to multiply around this time of year. We see trees in parking lots; we see lights on houses; see see ads on TVs - and the Christmas specials aren’t going to be too far behind them. Signs of Christmas are all around us. And it’s wonderful - but, sometimes I wonder, what ever happened to Advent?

     You remember Advent. It began today. I think that the church has become so inundated with the surrounding culture that many Christians just think of Advent as another sign that Christmas is on the horizon. But that’s really not it. Advent and its symbols are a sign - but not a sign of Christmas. Advent points us ahead to what you might call: “the end.” That has an ominous sound to it - and we’ll think about the concept a bit next week with a very typical Advent reading that will surely remind us that Advent isn’t about the warm fuzzies of getting ready to welcome a baby in a manger. Advent is a sign of the end - but not in an ominous sense. As Christians, we take the season of Advent to reflect on what will be the ultimate fulfilment of God’s plan; the ultimate establishment of God’s Kingdom. Perhaps we forget that our entire faith is based on providing hope to the world that for all the pain and suffering, for all the turmoil and chaos, for all the war and violence - God has a better way for us, and God’s better way will one day be established. Advent kicks off the church’s liturgical year. It’s the beginning - and the beginning points us not to Christmas, but to the end.

     Jesus understood the importance of signs. In today’s Gospel reading, for example: “when you see these things happening, you know that it is near, right at the door.” The “things” he was talking about I suppose are the words of the prophet Joel, that he quoted just before: “‘the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken.’” Honestly - I don’t know what to make of that, except that both Joel and Jesus seem to have expected something very dramatic to occur that would signify the establishment of God’s reign on earth. Watch for it; wait for it; be ready for it, Jesus seems to be saying.

     I’m not sure about the sun being darkened, or the moon refusing to shine, or the stars falling from the sky or the heavenly bodies being shaken. My discernment tells me that we’re not supposed to take this literally, but just as Jesus’ (and Joel’s) way of saying that the establishment of God’s reign will be accompanied by dramatic signs that won’t and can’t be missed. But - all the dramatic signs aside - I do find myself wondering if there aren’t supposed to be a few signs right now that are less dramatic, perhaps - but in some ways just as powerful - and I wonder if it’s these less dramatic signs that the season of Advent is challenging us to reveal to the world? Think of the primary symbol of Advent - the wreath, with its five candles: representing love, hope, joy, peace and, of course, Christ. Are these not the very things that we as followers of Jesus can take to the world, share with the world and use to point the world toward the God who wants such signs shared? What I’m saying is - is it not WE who are supposed to be the signs of the season? Not the season of Advent or the season of Christmas - but what you might call the season of God, whose presence is made obvious to us by that mighty wind that sometimes roars around us or by that gentle breeze that sometimes just brushes over us.  Are we not supposed to be the signs of God’s presence in the world?  The living out of love, peace, joy and hope? The ones who offer love, peace, joy and hope to the world? The ones who make sure that others know that our God is a God of love, peace, joy and hope? Is it not we who are supposed to be the embodiment of Jesus? And by living in ways that do that - are we not then the signs; the ones who point others to God?

     Maybe we get the wrong idea when we talk about signs. Maybe the signs aren’t just those things that point us to the promise of God’s Kingdom; maybe we’re the signs who are to point others to the presence of God.

A Thought For The Week Of November 24

"... his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night." (Psalm 1:2) That's an important thought about the law of God, and as I think about it, it transcends the polar opposites that so many perceive between the Old and New Testaments, or between law and grace. What really interests me is that Gin Psalm 1 God's people are never instructed that they must follow the law, or threatened with punishment if they can't. Perhaps there's a recognition here that the law of God can't be fully obeyed no matter how hard we try. But if that's true, then what is the relationship of God's people to God's law? The Psalm tells us that we're to delight in the law and to meditate on it day and night. To paraphrase, we're to recognize that the law is something good and positive  and that it isn't to be feared. We're to pay attention to the law, study it and learn from it - presumably learning from it about God's nature and God's will. I'd say that was the example set by Jesus. He didn't just take the words on the page and apply them letter by letter. He understood that the words on the page had a deeper and richer meaning - what I sometimes refer to as the spirit of the law rather than the letter of the law. Focused on the law, what Jesus nevertheless taught about God was far from the image of a tyrannical God looking for disobedience as an excuse to punish. Jesus saw love in the law. Jesus saw mercy in the law. So love and mercy aren't simply Christian concepts. They have their origins in the Old Testament portrayal of God - and in the very law of God that can seem so harsh. That's what we learn as we meditate upon the law day and night, as Psalm 1 says - as we take the law seriously and study it, mining it for ever deeper revelations about God. Have a great week!

November 23 sermon: Why We Serve Who We Serve

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’ They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’ He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’ Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

(Matthew 25:31-46)

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    Judgment is a hard thing to deal with from a Christian perspective. It’s hard for the most part because even most Christians I think struggle to understand the basis on which God judges - and, please remember that it’s always God who judges, and it’s never us. One of the great problems with people’s understanding of Christianity I think is the whole concept of reward and punishment. For some people, that’s the whole basis of faith: be good and you’ll get rewarded, be bad and you’ll get punished. The good ones will go to heaven with God and the bad ones will go to the other place with … well … you know who. I can understand why people latch on to that idea. It makes things rather simple doesn’t it. Just be good. Of course, we have to take some time to figure out what “being good” actually looks like. But is it all just about reward and punishment? Is our faith just about getting one and avoiding the other? Is that it? Nothing more? There’s no doubt that you could take Jesus’ words in this parable, for example, and make faith about just that. “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.” And I’m impressed by Jesus’ understanding of human nature here - because the ones being punished are always “they.” The basic problem with that understanding of faith is that it turns faith into a selfish thing - basically, we either turn to faith to get a reward or to avoid a punishment. It makes our faith all about us. Which is exactly where our focus should never be.

    If you read this parable, and put it in the context of all of Jesus’ teachings (and not just the last few words here) you get a different perspective than if you take this in its very narrow context. In this passage - looked at in the light of everything Jesus taught, and not just these few words - Jesus is talking about adopting a certain worldview; a certain way of life - and it’s not one that’s motivated out of either the fear of hell or the hope of heaven. Instead, it’s a life that’s motivated by an authentic love. For Jesus, showing compassion and mercy and love to those around you on a day by day basis seems so much more important than believing a certain set of doctrines; more important even than simply living a good life. This passage actually says something fascinating about judgment: it’s not based, according to this at least, on whether we believe all the right things or whether we do all the proper things to or for Jesus. The point of the parable seems to be that of course we’d do all the right things for Jesus - if we knew that it was Jesus. But Jesus is making the point here that he shows up in the most unexpected places and at the most unexpected times and through the most unexpected people - and the mark of our faith is how we respond to him when we don’t even realize that he’s there! The basis of judgment is apparently whether we act toward others the way we claim to act toward Jesus; if we love the poor and marginalized and outcast and dispossessed and all those who are tossed aside by society with the same love that we claim to have for Jesus. There’s the issue.

    I know a lot of Christians who take a remarkably negative view of good works. They come from an impressive lineage. After all, it was Martin Luther who thought the Book of James should be removed from the New Testament because it put too much emphasis on works. And I understand the objection. Works can’t save us because we can never do enough “works” to repay the God who has done and given everything for us. So we depend on grace; we believe in grace because of our faith. But let’s not toss aside works too quickly. They may not save us - but they may well be the sign of God being present and active in us; they may well be the sign of our openness to God and God’s ways. Luther might not like the book, but let’s not forget the words of James: “faith without works is dead.” And a dead faith isn’t much use to anybody. So our faith is shown and the judgment of God is based not merely on our piety in upholding the right doctrines and practicing the right rituals, but more importantly our faith is shown and God’s judgment of us is based on our willingness to do the right things for the lowest of our society.

     We don’t serve those in need because we get a reward for it - we serve those in need because it’s the right thing to do. John Wesley wrote that “supposing [good works] to spring from a right principle, they are the perfection of religion.” In fact, rather than seeking God’s approval or seeking reward for doing these things, we should be prepared to sacrifice in order to serve. Maybe we’d content ourselves by thinking that because we give to the local food bank, we’ve done our bit; we’ve helped to feed the hungry. But it’s easy to do a minimal amount of “good” without really giving up too much of ourselves in the process. My doctoral advisor, Gennifer Brooks, wrote this about the parable we’ve looked at today: “it is important that we focus on the notion of self-giving love, even self-sacrificing love that is represented in these actions. Christ calls us to love wholeheartedly - love God with heart, soul and mind, and love neighbor as self.” And, as we love in such a way, we ultimately find that we haven’t only loved those we’ve reached out to, we’ve actually loved Jesus, who spent so much of his own ministry among the poor and needy and outcast whom society looked down on. That’s why Jesus said that when you do these things (or when you fail to do them) you’ve done them for him, or you’ve failed him.

    You see, Jesus is always revealed to us primarily through the needs others, but too often we don’t realize it. In 1995, Joan Osborne wrote the song “One of Us.” The lyrics seem appropriate in the light of this parable. Among other things, they say:

What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us.

Just a stranger on the bus.

What if? Would we recognize God if that were the case? In the parable, both the sheep and the goats were surprised because they hadn’t recognized him. The sheep were doing what they were doing because they simply knew they had to do it. For them, there was a heart that had turned toward compassion and generosity. The goats, on the other hand, chose not to serve because I guess they didn’t think Jesus would be in such places and so he wouldn’t care. But what’s interesting is that both were surprised to discover - if I can put it this way - where and with whom Jesus chooses to hang out. People don’t really expect to see Jesus in the face of the disadvantaged or the poor or the imprisoned, or any of those who suffer great need. Maybe that’s understandable. When we think of God, we typically think in terms of power and might and glory and all the rest. But the whole point of the parable seems to be to undermine our tendency to look for God in places of power and prestige - and maybe that undermining might help us all to discover God’s presence in our lives more fully than we ever have. Maybe, if we want to experience God’s presence most fully, most deeply and most truly, we should look for God in need - in the need of those around us and even in our own times of need rather than simply looking for God in blessings. That understanding challenges the whole reward-punishment concept of faith.

    So, with Advent almost upon us just one week away, and with Christmas not far off, and with a new year beckoning when so many of us are going to commit ourselves to going deeper with God (because for Christians that’s a common New Year’s Resolution) let me give you a challenge: use all the holiday gratitude and thankfulness and joy and love that we speak of and sign about and feel at this time of year to seek out and serve the ones who find gratitude and thankfulness and joy and love difficult - and do it all year round. If you do that, you just might discover Jesus anew!

A Thought For The Week Of November 17

"But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." (Joshua 24:15) It's always about choices, isn't it. One of the things about a God who gives us free will is that we get to choose essentially everything - including what "god" we choose to follow. I suppose the only exception to that is that we don't get to choose our own eternal fate. Eternity belongs to God, so that we leave to God. But everything else we choose. Including what "god" we follow. I'm not equating that with what religion we follow. I'm not at all sure how God feels about religion. I am sure that God wants us to live in love. So, to some extent, we show what "god" we've chosen by whether or not we choose to live in love. Or do we choose as our "god" things that make us hateful or self-centred, unconcerned with those around us. I sour focus only on our own wants and our own desires and our own pleasures, and do we set ourselves to taking care of those things, no matter what we have to do to others to achieve them? Sadly, I suspect we do that far too often. If you're a person of sincere faith it's no different. You're still constantly tempted to satisfy yourself  rather than to serve God by serving others. That's why Joshua's question is such a good one. And, although it sounds like it in this passage, the question can't just be a one time thing - asked and answered and done with - because the temptation to serve myself (and, really, aren't "I" always the other “god” I might choose to serve?) is always there. So, I ask this day, whom will I serve? This day. And every day. I have to keep asking that question, and I have to keep re-committing myself to the answer - "as for me ... I will serve the Lord." Have a great week!

November 16 sermon: As Light's Children

Now, brothers and sisters, we do not need to write you about times and dates. You know very well that the day the Lord comes again will be a surprise, like a thief that comes in the night. While people are saying, “We have peace and we are safe,” they will be destroyed quickly. It is like pains that come quickly to a woman having a baby. Those people will not escape. But you, brothers and sisters, are not living in darkness, and so that day will not surprise you like a thief. You are all people who belong to the light and to the day. We do not belong to the night or to darkness. So we should not be like other people who are sleeping, but we should be alert and have self-control. Those who sleep, sleep at night. Those who get drunk, get drunk at night. But we belong to the day, so we should control ourselves. We should wear faith and love to protect us, and the hope of salvation should be our helmet. God did not choose us to suffer his anger but to have salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ. Jesus died for us so that we can live together with him, whether we are alive or dead when he comes. So encourage each other and give each other strength, just as you are doing now.

(1 Thessalonians 5:1-11)

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     The imagery is pretty familiar: light. From the beginning of the Bible to the end of the Bible the imagery is there, present, all around, all the time. Light. It was the first thing created. “Let there be light,” God said. And there was light. As the Israelites wandered in the wilderness, God was a pillar of fire before them at night to give them light. Psalm 18 tells us that God turns all our darkness into light, and Psalm 76 affirms for us that God is “radiant with light.” Jesus calls himself the light of the world (a light that John’s Gospel tells us “shines in the darkness” and cannot be overcome) and then Jesus turns around and surprises us by calling us the light of the world! And Proverbs 13 tells us that “the light of the righteous shines brightly,” so that, through us, “the people walking in darkness [will see] a great light.” After all, as Jesus said, we are to “let [our[ light shine before others.” As I said, the Bible is full of references to light as an image of God and as an image for our faith. And, to me, one of the more intriguing things the Bible has to say about our relationship to light comes from Paul’s words that we read this morning from 1 Thessalonians: “You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or to the darkness.” Why do I find that so intriguing? Because it puts a slightly different spin on the image. No longer are we referred to as light, but as  “children of light.” We’re fairly used to being called children of God, but I started to think about this phrase “children of light,” and I wondered - is it just another way of saying that we’re children of God? Is it the same thing? Or does it suggest something different still? What does it mean to be a “child of light?”

     As I reflected on that imagery I found myself thinking about family of origin issues. It’s a simple concept: everyone has a family of origin. We all have in our past the people who shaped us and influenced us, and in many cases we become a reflection of that family of origin. Sometimes it’s for the better and sometimes it’s for the worse. After all, there are healthy families and there are unhealthy families and there are dysfunctional families and there are abusive families. Not all families of origin are positive - but all of us are products of our upbringings; products of all our experiences; influenced to some extent by all those who have in some way or another, big or small, touched our lives. As people of faith, we understand that we’re bound together by a common family of origin, and the family tree if you will are all the Christians who have touched us and influenced us. The historical record of our family is the Bible. Ultimately, as people of faith, the one we’ve been touched by most powerfully (I hope) is God revealed in Jesus. We call ourselves children of God; we’re also children of light - light being the first thing God called into existence; light being wisdom; light being knowledge of God and of God’s ways. And we’re touched by that spiritual family of origin; influenced in a certain direction by the God who called us into being and who called us to faith. We’re children of the light - descendants in a way of that first created thing.

     What was going on in Thessalonica that Paul felt it was necessary to remind the Thessalonians Christians of their calling. I touched on it a bit last week. The Thessalonians (like many early Christians) were expecting the return of Christ in their own lifetime. And it hadn’t happened, and time was moving on, and people were beginning to wonder. Should we continue to wait. or should we give up on this and go back to our old ways before we knew Christ? And Paul’s instruction was that they should remember to live as children of light - always prepared, always observant, always watching and always watchful. Always believing that something better was coming. But Paul said that they were not just to be children of light; they were also to be children of the day. As children of light, Christians are to be watchful and prepared; as children of the day, Christians are to be aware that we’re being watched - we can’t hide in the darkness and live as if our faith makes no difference, because that will dishonour the Christ in whom we place our hope. We have to live this faith - not sit back and do nothing because Jesus will come back to set everything straight, and not give up because things aren’t being set straight fast enough to suit us. We are children of light and children of the day.

     As children of light, who have come to understand the ways of God, we have to reflect the ways of God - just as our human family of origin makes us to some extent a reflection of our upbringing. Sometimes, in some cases, our spiritual family of origin has to overcome our human family of origin and set us on the right track, sometimes our spiritual family of origin just re-inforces what we’ve been brought up to believe and how we’ve been brought up to live. But as children of light and children of the day, we’re called to witness to the call of God and to reflect the way of Jesus to the world.

     The way of Jesus is what brings light to those who walk in darkness of any kind: the darkness of sin, the darkness of loneliness, the darkness of grief, the darkness of abuse or violence, the darkness of rejection, the darkness of hatred or racism, the darkness of anything that tries to tell someone that they’re less important, less significant, less valuable and less loved by God than others. That’s the light Jesus brought to the lives of those he encountered. As children of light, we reflect that light into the dark corners of the world and the dark places in the lives of those we encounter.

     It’s a bit simplistic, but I’ve heard Christians be compared to the moon. The brightest full moon shining on a pitch black night nevertheless has no light of its own. It only reflects the light of the sun back toward us. That’s what we do. We reflect the light of God back wherever we find darkness, and we live by it - believing that the way of Jesus will one day be the way of the world. Meanwhile, we wait, we watch, we witness, and we work - all as children of the light of God.

Amazing Grace

Sometimes you get big surprises from the most common things. For example: Amazing Grace. I did a funeral this morning, and this hymn was requested. That's not a surprise. Amazing Grace is pretty commonly used at funerals. But in addition to the usual verses, there was this one, that I had never heard before:

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun refuse to shine,
But God, Who called me here below,

Will be forever mine.

I've never heard that verse before, but apparently they're from the original version, printed in 1779 in Olney Hymns.

I knew of course that what is often used as the last of the verses of Amazing Grace:

When we've been there ten thousand years,

Bright shining as the sun,

We've no less days to sing God's praise

Than when we'd first begun.

is a later addition to the hymn, written by an anonymous author. I still like that verse, especially for funerals, because it's the verse that, to me, speaks most powerfully of eternity.

In any event, today meant the discovery of a seven verse version of Amazing Grace. The longest I'd ever heard before was six verses.

It's a wonderful hymn, made especially wonderful by the powerful conversion story of its author, John Newton - the former slave ship captain turned abolitionist and Anglican priest.

Here are the original words (all SIX) verses, printed in Olney Hymns in 1779:

      Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)

      That saved a wretch like me!

      I once was lost, hut now am found,

      Was blind, but now I see.

      'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

      And grace my fears relieved;

      How precious did that grace appear,

      The hour I first believed!

      Through many dangers, toils and snares,

      I have already come;

      'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,

      And grace will lead me home.

      The LORD has promised good to me,

      His word my hope secures;

      He will my shield and portion be,

      As long as life endures.

      Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,

      And mortal life shall cease,

      I shall possess, within the veil,

      A life of joy and peace.

      The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,

      The sun forbear to shine;

      But GOD, who called me here below,

      Will be for ever mine.

A Thought For The Week Of November 10

“A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side.” (Luke 10:31) Maybe it's an occupational hazard, but when I read the parable of the Good Samaritan my focus tends to go to neither the Good Samaritan nor to the beaten man in the ditch. I think about the priest who passed by and did nothing to help. I think of how easy it is to get consumed by religious and vocational duty and to forget that being a disciple of Jesus  means to do the will of God and the work of Christ - and that these things aren't always the same as what we perceive our "religious duty) to be, whether we're clergy or lay people. But it is so tempting to set aside the will of God and the work of Christ and to busy ourselves with "duty, because our “duties” seem so immediate and so important. And so I feel some empathy for the priest in the parable - torn between doing the will of God and doing his religious duty. I know how easy it is to be tempted. I once faced an almost identical situation, in Newfoundland almost 20 years ago. I was on my way to church to do a morning service and I came across a man lying unconscious in the road. Should I stop to try to help? There were a couple of others who had stopped, and I had a service to conduct - a religious and vocational duty to perform; church work to do! The dilemma was real. In the end I overcame the temptation and I stopped and I stayed until the ambulance came, offering as much comfort as I could under the circumstances, and I was able to find a nearby phone to call ahead and say that I wouldn’t make it to church for the service. Strangely, the church survived. I’m not glorifying myself. The temptation to just drive by and let someone else handle the situation was very powerful and I could easily have made that choice. There are times when we believe that God is satisfied with us if we just perform our religious duties - showing up at church, serving on a committee. Those things take time. Surely that’s all God expects of us. But I’m sure that what God really wants from us is to see us demonstrating love, mercy and compassion. When doing our religious duty conflicts with showing love, mercy and compassion, the latter has to win out. Have a great week.

November 9 sermon: In Search Of Hope

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in

death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we

believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with

Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you

that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not

precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from

heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet

call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and

are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.

And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these

words.

(1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)

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    Not very long ago, two historians named Charles Philips and Alan Axelrod finished off years of research by publishing a massive book called “The Encyclopedia Of Warfare.” I haven't bought the book – yet – but I've read some reviews of it. The research sounds as if it was painstaking and detailed. Philips and Axelrod studied almost two thousand wars that have been fought in recorded human history. Now, that's a lot of wars. Two thousand! Especially when you consider that recorded human history goes back maybe six thousand years and that many of the wars fought were multi-year conflicts. So, what you've probably heard at some point in your life is probably true – there is almost always a war going on somewhere all the time. That's a sobering thought. It should be especially sobering for Christians who claim to follow a Lord who is known as the Prince of Peace and whose ethical teachings revolved primarily around love. I suppose that if there's good news that we as people of faith can take from Philips' and Axelrod's work it's that they also challenge one of the widely accepted myths of our society – which is that religion is at the root of most wars. In fact, their research established that less than 7% of the wars fought in human history have been religiously motivated. The myth probably arose because nations have a tendency to use religious language and to usurp religious symbols in order to justify their wars and call their people to arms, but religion itself isn't the cause of very many wars. Wars are fought over much more “earthy” matters like power and territory and resources. Many nations over the span of human history seem to have operated on the basis of “you have what I want, and I believe I have the right to take it – so I will.” That's what causes war. So, for me, their research includes a glimmer of something positive, but still – almost two thousand wars in about six thousand years of human history. I think of a line from one of our familiar Christmas carols (“and warring humankind hears not the love song which he brings”) and I find myself suspecting that God weeps more than we can possibly imagine. And I wonder – with this sad historical record, is there hope? Hope for peace? Or at least hope for something better?

Then I read Paul's words in 1 Thessalonians: we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.” I admit this morning that I'm doing something that often irritates me: I'm taking this verse totally out of its immediate context. Can I justify doing that by saying that the Holy Spirit led me to do it? In the context of the wider passage, it's clear that Paul is trying to address a word of hope to Christians who are starting to see their brothers and sisters pass away without Jesus having returned. They're grieving death, and they're losing hope. And Paul reminds them that while grieving is natural, hopelessness cannot be indulged in for those who truly believe in Jesus. Can there be any greater source of hope, after all, than to believe in and follow a Lord who died and was resurrected? If we believe that then how can we possibly fall into hopelessness? And regardless of the immediate context, I think it's all right to think of a broader principle involved here. That principle is that hopelessness can never be allowed to triumph; we can never give up hope. We always have to live with a belief that something better is not only possible but that something better is coming. Our faith demands it. Our faith should bring that hope forth from us. And let's think about grief. Paul is certainly talking about the grief we feel when people we know and love die. That saddens us. Maybe because it hurts us to be without them; maybe because we know that it hurts others who shared that person's life and love. Just a few days ago, I learned that a former parishioner from Newfoundland whose family Lynn and I were very close to for three years had died. I felt grief. I hadn't seen Percy in almost 20 years, but I know how much pain his death must have caused his family – and for three years they were our family in a very real and meaningful way. So I grieved. I grieved for Percy and I grieved for those who were dealing with grief far more powerful than I was feeling. But we feel grief for different reasons as well. How can we look at the world today and not feel a sense of grief?

    For the last few days, every time I watch the news I see that a regular note on the scroll at the bottom of the screen tells us that CF-18 fighters flew another combat mission – now against ISIS in Iraq. Once again, war hits home. It's reality. Its ugliness. Real people are risking their lives. Real people are dying. I don't propose to say whether it's right or wrong for us to be taking part in this newest outbreak of war. In our discussion group this past Tuesday, we talked about this in the light of two seemingly contradictory commandments from Jesus: love your neighbour (or love others) and love your enemy. ISIS is a nasty group. They do terrible things. They kill innocent people for no reason other than disagreeing with them. You can argue that if ISIS is our “enemy” then the people they're killing are our “neighbours.” How do we love them both? Can we love them both? Or does trying to protect our neighbour by trying to put an end to this group mean that loving our neighbour trumps loving our enemy? It's complicated. I don't have an answer to that. As followers of Jesus, we do the best we can to live in love, and sometimes we have to make tough choices, and sometimes those choices will be right and sometimes those choices will be wrong. I trust in God's grace. I trust that if our hearts are in the right place, God will honour that even if we make the wrong choice. But, still, we should grieve the fact that this is happening. And while our attention is on the Middle East and the battle against ISIS, it's not even counted as a “major war” by the United Nations. The United Nations defines a “major war” as one in which there are at least one thousand battlefield deaths per year. The most recent numbers tell us that there are currently, by this definition, eight “major wars” going on right now, and up to two dozen “lesser wars” being fought. And 75% of those who die in war in the modern world aren't soldiers who die on the battlefield, they're are civilians who get caught in the middle. It's sobering. It should fill us with grief.

    But - we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.” The reality of the world around us fills us with grief. The reality of how far the world is from what we know God would like it to be fills us with grief. If it doesn't, then there's something wrong with our faith. Even if we sometimes think that a particular war is necessary, or that we have no choice but to fight a particular war, the days of World War I, when people joined together to celebrate their nation's declaration of war on another nation are long gone. Today, we should only grieve when such things happen. And we should pray. We should pray because we “do not grieve like the rest of mankind who have no hope.”

    Our hope is in God. Our hope is in a God who is love. Our hope is in a God who sent Jesus to be the “Prince of Peace.” Our hope is in a God who gives his people visions like the one shared with us by the Prophet Isaiah: “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” That's a vision of a world at peace. That's a promise from God.

    The great German philosopher Immanuel Kant, who was no friend of religion but who did rather admire Jesus Christ, wrote that “perpetual peace is no empty idea, but a practical thing which, through its gradual solution, is coming always nearer its final realization...” I believe that, as aware as we are of war and violence in the world around us, that's true. I believe it's true because I believe in God, and I believe that God wants his children to live in peace. I believe it's true because I believe in Jesus, and I believe that Jesus is the Prince of Peace.

    So, I grieve. I grieve for those who have given their lives in times of war, and who have left behind broken-hearted loved ones and a country that remains strong and free for me to live in. I grieve for those who are called to fight wars today, because of the effect it must have on them. I grieve for those who are the civilian victims of war, who usually have no choice in the matter but who suffer greatly. I grieve for the world's loss of innocence. I grieve because violence and warfare have become such an everyday thing that we sometimes take them for granted. I grieve for all those reasons. But I do not grieve as do those who have no hope – because I believe in Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who died and who rose to life again. And I have hope because our Lord, who could overcome death, can surely overcome the human tragedy of war and create that world where “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” May that vision become a reality.