License Plates & Beggars

I pulled up to the line already in place at the stoplight, and immediately saw the older gentleman begging by the side of the road.

“Homeless, Need Help” read his plain sign, no explanation or details given to the reason for his presence outside the local shopping center.

I looked away, realizing that I didn’t have any food or water in the car that I could give him, reminded of my decade-old decision to not give money to strangers. Tangible goods, yes, but money? Money always seems problematic and often more trouble waiting to happen. I never want to enable a habit.

Then the license plate of the car in front of me came into focus. “Jesus Saves” (roughly) it read, reminding me of the driver’s understanding that Jesus of Nazareth was Savior, Lord, God, and King of the universe. Amen, right?

That driver was focused on their turn sure to be coming soon at the light, staring straight ahead, and now, so was I.

And then the words of I John 3:17 flashed roughly through my mind, like a gut punch. The words in my mind weren’t as poetic as the words of that epistle, but the meaning was the same: “If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?”

The narrow expectation of what I normally do were confronted by a verse brought to mind, in stark contrast to a license plate that I firmly believe to be true. Could I believe the license plate and not help this man? I actually had cash (a rarity)…

I got out of the car (yes, I put it in park) and dashed over to hand the man a few dollars. He seemed grateful, but in the moment we made contact, I was convicted of all the times I ignored the nudge. I think I needed to give up those bills more than that man needed them. Who really was the beggar?

I need my faith to be more than a slogan, or given how poorly I drive, a license plate.


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Stu Garrard’s Words From the Hill

Stu Garrard (or Stu G) was once the guitarist for a ‘little’ worship band called Delirious? for its twenty-year run from The Cutting Edge Band to Delirious? (circa 1992-2009). Now residing in Tennessee, the musician-turned-humanitarian finds himself musing on the teachings of Jesus and how they should intersect with his soul. In his debut book, he turns his attention to The Beatitudes Project, specifically called Words from the Hill.

In Words from Hill, Garrard recounts the stories of people he has met through the years who have struggled with some aspect of applying their beliefs and the love of God to real life. Tracking through the pattern of the Beatitudes, Garrard tackles the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. At times, he’s hitting on the orthodoxy of each verse from Matthew 5; at other times, he’s showing us a different side of Americana via his Englishman-in-Nashville perspective.

Some of the stories Garrard tells are parable-like in nature; some are practical. I’ll give examples of each from two of my favorite stories he tells. The first one comes from the chapter “Mourn: The Grief of Change,” where he shares the story of a village that has a communal reaction to mourning. On the night of a person’s death, every neighbor changes something about their house (externally) so that the next morning, when the mourning neighbor awakes, they can see that their loss has changed life for everyone else, too. It’s not mourning in isolation but recognizing that we’re in this together.

Later, in “Hunger or Thirst: Blessing or Requirement?” he talks about being an Acts 2 church (an aim of mine as a pastor), and how the church saw that making life for single mothers ‘doable,’ that rides were a must. Church of the City pastor Darren Whitehead (in Franklin, TN, but originally from Australia) saw that to tangibly support “widows and orphans,” that helping them have a car to get to work, the doctors, school, etc. was a necessity not a frivolous want. So his church has made that a specific ministry of their living out the Beatitudes.

Whether it’s practical or intellectually inspiration, Garrard’s book is full of stories like these that provoke us to see the Beatitudes differently, and to consider how we can engage that life Jesus talked about in the moments that we live.

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Steve Berry’s The Lost Order

In the nineteenth century, the Knights of the Golden Circle existed to bring wealth and power to southern, slave-holding states. When the abolitionist movement increased in power – and ultimately, the Civil War commenced – the KoGC sought to raise funds to overthrow the federal government. Having lain dormant for years, the Circle is drawn out by a fraction element who want to acquire their long forgotten cache for their own uses. This collision of the two sections of the Circle draws the attention of astute agents of the Justice Department, namely Cotton Malone, in Steve Berry’s twelfth novel in the series.

While Malone works with Cassiopeia Vitt, his longtime handler Stephanie Nelle is sidelined and ex-President Danny Daniels is given a more prominent role than in previous Berry novels. Here is where the book became slightly muddled for me: as an ‘a-political,’ I find the impact of the decisions made by secret societies more interesting than the way Berry wanted me to be engaged in the way the one side of the Circle would use the funds to change political operations of Congress. For me, the National Treasure aspects were always more interesting.

While we have grown accustomed to Berry’s principal characters, the fact that Nelle could be taken out opened up a more interesting, tense understanding of the action; it’s like watching Luke lose a hand in Empire Strikes Back and realizing that the good guys can actually get hurt and die (not just the old ones, Obi Wan). The stakes in The Lost Order are higher because of it, adding a level of suspense and danger that exceeded the previous books. Still, it ultimately seems to spin its wheels a few times (and certainly gives the impression that old, ex-presidents are stripped of their powers completely). If Malone and Daniels are who we have grown to believe they are, I imagine they’d have stopped the Circle long before the end of the novel.

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Christmas Eve Sermon: Don’t Be Afraid (Matthew 2:1-12) (7 p.m. Wesley)

Sometimes, Christmas can be less than God intended it to be. Sometimes, we fail to see the beauty of Jesus’ birth, God with flesh on incarnate in our world. Sometimes, all the stuff of Christmas can get in the way of actually celebrating Christmas.

In 2008, Jdimytai Damour was assigned to work the Black Friday morning shift. He was a part-time seasonal worker in Long Island, NY, whose job was to man the front door when the store opened in on that morning at 2008 at 4:55 a.m. But that morning, the door malfunctioned, the crowd become incensed,the people surged, and the door crashed down on Damour. While the majority of the crowd went over or around him, pinning him down, three of those nearly two thousand people tried to form a barricade around him. How many of them were good people? How many of them were Christians? Only three of them could see that their Christmas activities didn’t trump their Christian beliefs that day.

Hundreds of people missed the point, which is ironic, isn’t it?

In the Greek of the New Testament, the most frequent word used for sin is “hamartia,” which literally means “to miss the mark.” Like an archer setting out to shoot a target who fails to hit the bullseye, hamartia means that we have failed to follow what we should, that we have failed to follow the marks laid out before us by Jesus’ example and teaching. But sin isn’t just something we can put on someone else – we must recognize that sin is something we must wrestle with ourselves and together.

As Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote, “If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”

Following the path matters, but we must first identify the way.

In our Scripture today from Matthew 2:1-12, it says that Magi – or wise men, astrologers, or kings – showed up seeking a king they had heard about and pursued from the East. They naturally go to the resident king and ask about the new king – a bit too proactively, maybe. But they followed the star and they pursued the vision for the king they were seeking.

Herod sees the Magi’s arrival as the chance to smell out and destroy a would-be usurper, a potential rival. He thinks he can set these Magi up to do his dirty work, to get rid of an enemy. So the Magi keep following the star – and they come to a house with a child inside. While this is part of our Christmas story, we understand that it would truly have been several years after that first Christmas, as the Christmas story rolled into the experience of people even after the fact.

These wise men – three, thirty, three hundred? – come and present gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. These wise men celebrate the birth of a miracle child, of a king honored by the arrival of a star – not the typical happenings for a typical day. But having been warned in a dream – they avoid Herod and go home a different way.

Here, our three kings have an interaction similar to those individuals in the stories we’ve studied in our Do Not Be Afraid Series – Zechariah, Mary, Joseph, and the shepherds. The voice of God – here, called in a dream, while before it was via an angel – showed up and told the wise men to avoid the things which society (and maybe common sense) would have pushed for: to be afraid of Herod.

Instead, the wise men were inspired by God to move differently, to not be afraid. They were expected to do one thing, to succumb to power and privilege and fear, and instead, they obeyed God and went home by another way.

While the wise men went home having been moved by what they saw – and we assume, forever changed – the world around them wasn’t immediately different. Caesar Augustus still led the Roman infestation of Israel and Judah, the poor were still poor, the abandoned  didn’t even know that the God of the universe had come down as a newborn baby.

Fear still existed and evil still appeared to have the upper hand. And yet, we will sing, with candles lit,

“Silent night! Holy night!

All is calm, all is bright,

Round yon Virgin Mother and Child!

Holy Infant, so tender and mild,

Sleep in heavenly peace!

Sleep in heavenly peace!”

But all is not calm; all is not bright … yet.

Mary births the Son of God; Joseph accepts this son as his own; the angels pursue the good news that is delivered to them in the field that night. The wise men witness this Son of God and go home with the good news to tell others that Jesus has come.

It’s still dark out there, right? But something changed that night.

That first Christmas, people who were afraid stopped being afraid. People who were poor and powerless and struggling with their place in the world found that God cared, that there was purpose, that the future was bright.

This Christmas, all is still not calm – it is not bright for everyone. In the midst of this service, we will celebrate candlelight – the fact that it is dark around us but that we, the people of faith, represent millions of tiny points of light.

By ourselves, our single candles do not seem to do much to break into the darkness, to break apart the darkness, but together …

Together, our candles are strong. Together, our candles illuminate our own faces with light left over to shine onto the next person, to help them see a little better, to push back some of their darkness.

Together, we illuminate by community through the life of Christ.

Together, we are called to stand as one.

For peace.

For love.

For community.

Against the darkness, with our little bit of light.

Together, we can choose not to be afraid. Together, we can choose to seek God’s will above the will of the world, and the powers that threaten to derail us from being who God calls us to be.

We can be more. We can choose to live without fear. We can still follow the star.

We can do more than shake our hands and pray; we can move.

If we’re going to learn from the wise men’s search, we’re going to have to dig deep and remember that what we expect isn’t the same thing as what God’s looking for. We need to recognize that God is playing from a different set of rules; God is focused on different things.

When God sent Jesus to be born in a manger, to an unwed mother and a homeless carpenter, he set up for all of time that Jesus lived in the real world, not a fantasized picture of what life looked like.

When God sent Jesus, he reminded us that Immanuel, which means “God with us,” isn’t just a cute bumper sticker, it’s the reminder that God made himself like us and with us to understand what life is really like for us.

God wasn’t willing to let people say, “well, you don’t know what it’s like!”

God sent Jesus into a world of people who were seeking something, anything, to hold onto to show us that we are not alone, that God is here, and that God wants to be with us. Littered through the Scriptures are reminders:

The times that Jesus asks his audience, whether it’s an individual or a group, “what do you want me to do for you?”

The offering up of his body and blood on the cross, after sharing the Last Supper, when he says, “this is my body which is given for you” (Luke 22:19).

The reminders from the apostle Paul that “if God is for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31)”

Too often, we come to church and Christmas, and we’re expecting the wrong thing. We’re seeking temporary happiness or immediate financial security that seem to wear off before the Super Bowl; we’re looking for love and peace of mind in all the wrong places, like failed relationships and jobs we don’t really like. We’re not changing the things that matter but pursuing a difference by running after the wrong things.

And then the wise men show up, strangers in a strange land, who realize there’s something different here.

Sometimes, we have to recognize that what we’ve been looking for isn’t what we’ll find, but that it’s better. That the unexpected is actually exactly what we need.

We can either be the wise men or we can be Herods, we can be Scrooge or Bob Cratchit. We can be full of wonder and pursuit and purpose, or we can be stuck on ourselves, and our fears, lusts, and expectations. We can strive for the sacred or be stuck in the mundane. It’s not a pretty contrast, is it?

I encourage you to reflect on the story of Jesus’ birth. Maybe you’ve heard it a million times and it feels like the same old trite story. Maybe tonight is the first time you’ve heard about the baby Jesus in context. Either way, hear the good news:

The God who created the world, created a unique you for a unique purpose. Because we don’t always do what we should, we find ourselves separated from God and from who we are meant to be. Because God loves us so much, he sent his one and only Son to live our life, to teach us a better way, and to die on the cross so that all the things we shouldn’t have done are dead and gone. And we can be who we were meant to be, uniquely, as a blessing to others in relationship with God.

Somehow, the wise men figured out that their lives were different, that they met the sacred in the life of this young child. And they worshipped. We worship a lot of things, like money, and power, and beauty, and fame. We worship ourselves and put what we need high above everyone else. We worship getting by and getting ahead, instead of recognizing that the great God of the universe wants us to see ourselves as we really are.

Like a child. Like his child.

And he wants us to love him like a child loves a parent or grandparent, and knows that it is loved in return.

You matter to God. You are loved, redeemed, cleaned up, turned around, picked up, tested, saved, made whole, put right, and FORGIVEN.

All because of the sacred in the little child that the wise men went searching for. All because God wanted love to grow between you and him.

I don’t know what you came seeking tonight, but I hope you find more than you expected. I hope that you recognize, like the folks on the Westjet flight, that there’s more in store for you than you can imagine. That God wants to love you and make you whole, and give you what you need, right now.

This Christmas, I hope you recognize the path that God has called you to, the stars God puts in your life to follow. I hope that you can see in the midst of the turmoil you find yourself in, in whatever darkness you see in the world, that the light still shines.

That God still shows up in expected places.

That people who are wise still seek.

That the angel still shows up, with the voice of God whispering,

“Do not be afraid.”

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Christmas Eve Sermon (DNBA): Do You Wonder? (Matthew 2:1-12) (5 p.m. Wesley)

Do you wander? Do you wonder?

J.R.R. Tolkien wrote that “not all who wander are lost.” Think about that for a minute. Are you willing to wander or are you someone who has to know exactly where you’re going and exactly how to get there?

I admit that personally, I am most interested in the route from point A to point B. I don’t wander enough – and I think (unfortunately) it impacts my wondering.But – and this may surprise you coming from the pastor – I am still seeking. I still want to understand better what Christmas and Christianity are all about.

U2 wrote the following, and it speaks to my search for what is true, for where God is, in “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”:


I have climbed highest mountain; I have run through the fields, only to be with you.


I have run, I have crawled, I have scaled these city walls. Only to be with you.


I believe in the kingdom come, then all the colors will bleed into one. Well, yes, I’m still running.

You broke the bonds, and you loosed the chains, carried the cross, of my shame. You know I believed it.

But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…

Consider the wise men with me. Think about their importance to our story – what they add to the otherwise short birth narratives included – just narrowly – in the gospel story. Think about their wandering – and their wondering.

To be clear, I don’t mean what we popularly believe, that there were three of them because of the number of gifts (and because they’re commemorated in We Three Kings of Orient Are) or that they arrived at the same time as the shepherds. Sorry to burst anyone’s bubble, but we’re always getting our translations mixed up, aren’t we?

Reminds me of this story:

In a small southern town there was a “Nativity Scene” that showed great skill and talent had gone into creating it. One small feature bothered me. The three wise men were wearing fireman’s helmets.

Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, I left. At a “Quick Stop” on the edge of town, I asked the lady behind the counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me. “You Yankees never do read The Bible!”

I assured her that I did, but simply couldn’t recall anything about firemen in The Bible. She jerked her Bible from behind the counter and ruffled through some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a passage. Sticking it in my face, she said, “See, it says right here, ‘The three wise men came from afar.

Who or what occupationally they were isn’t as important to me. Maybe they were astrologers, or mystics, or some kind of combination of science and religion. Whatever their occupation was, they had seen a star that was of epic proportions and they knew that whoever the star shone for was important.

These were the best of the best of the East: the smartest, the brightest, the most intelligent, the most forward-thinking. Maybe they were traveling by camel, maybe not– we know the Cadillac hadn’t been invented yet, so what else could a bunch of wise guys be driving around in?

Speaking of wise-guys, A mafioso’s son sits at his desk writing a Christmas list to Jesus. He first writes, ‘Dear baby Jesus, I have been a good boy the whole year, so I want a new…’ He looks at it, then crumples it up into a ball and throws it away. He gets out a new piece of paper and writes again, ‘Dear baby Jesus, I have been a good boy for most of the year, so I want a new…’ He again looks at it with disgust and throws it away. He then gets an idea. He goes into his mother’s room, takes a statue of the Virgin Mary, puts it in the closet, and locks the door. He takes another piece of paper and writes, ‘Dear baby Jesus. If you ever want to see your mother again…’

Okay, let me stick to the script here. We know the wise men were looking, and we know they were willing to go. But what else?

We know that these men were not Jewish, not God-worshipping in the way that we or the Jews would’ve expected, and their travel was totally based on the signs they had seen and the star they had followed. They were scientifically, practically, searching, not out of religious fervor. Worship for them was human-to-human, honor and gift-giving, not holy religious wonder. These men were practical – not necessarily religious

The wise men travelled many miles from the east to track down this “king of the Jews,” to come and worship him. Many miles… to worship.

We can only definitively know that the wise men were:

1- Not Jewish because they didn’t know that Bethlehem was the place to look

2-From far away because they were from ‘the east.’

3-Not satisfied with the life they lived…

because if they had been, they would not have come. If they had everything they needed, everything they knew to be important, then why would they have travelled to Bethlehem to find this king of the Jews? If all of their questions could be answered where they were, then why would they go?

What were they missing in their lives that made them go searching, to go follow a star, to a place they’d never been with people they didn’t know?

While we bounce that question around for awhile, consider that they also say they’ve come to worship a king. Up until they arrive, we have an understanding that God has divinely caused Mary to be pregnant with a baby who will be full of the Holy Spirit, and we know from Joseph’s vision that he will save his people from their sins. But the wise men understood that this person, this Messiah, wasn’t just a prophet; he was a ruler.

Now, we might get it mixed all together, this Messiah-savior-king-prophet bit, but for a bunch of out-of-towners to show up in Jerusalem and ask where the “king of the Jews” was going to be, that was taking it to a whole new level. Because there had been heroes, and prophets, and miracles before, and the wise men would’ve heard of those people, maybe even met them. There was something different going on here.

So, these wise men show up and tell King Herod, the puppet king the Romans had in place, that there was a threat to his kingdom. But there wasn’t just a threat to Herod, there was a threat to the status quo. Because the people in Jerusalem are upset by this news, too. They don’t need another Messiah, they don’t need another king. Every person who steps up out of line causes the Romans to get angry, and kill some Jews. The people of Jerusalem would just as soon lie low. They are satisfied.

The people are satisfied with how things are– they have settled for oppression and less than. They have figured out how to survive, how to live the way they do, and the habits they have developed have gotten them this far. So why change? (Isn’t that how we are sometimes, settling for okay or mediocre rather than “the best”?)

Herod needs to figure out what the 411, the truth, the information, about this child-who-would-be-king is, because it’s a threat to his applecart, and he knows he could be dethroned and killed if the Romans get upset. Herod is challenged by a prophecy; he’s a Jew who should’ve known what was going on with the prophecy, but instead of being excited about galactic change, he’s worried about how it will affect him right now. So he puts the wise men up to being his spies, and tells them to track down the baby, and says he wants to go worship it, too.

We can see that the wise men keep going until they find the house where the child is, and that they are overjoyed. Their journey in searching is over. They have followed the directions to the end of the treasure map. They proceed to worship Jesus, and to present gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

The wise men have been seeking something that they couldn’t find anywhere else. They have been pursuing the truth and the sacred, and they find it here with Mary and with baby Jesus. And they recognize that they are not supposed to report back to Herod, and they go home without going back through Jerusalem.

They came from the east, and they followed the star, and they found the sacred in a place unexpected.

I believe the wise men came seeking the amazing, a once-in-a-lifetime experience that they knew would be unlike anything that they’d seen before. I believe they brought their best: the gold, frankincense, and myrrh were not cheap, Dollar Store gifts, but the best of the best. And I believe that what they experienced that night was so amazing that it caused a group of men who were trained to seek the kings and kingdoms of the world, to change their direction and defy King Herod.

I believe they encountered the sacred, and their worship came from commonplace gift exchange and status seeking, to a mind-blown, wonderful eye-opening experience of the divine.

I think that these wise men thought they were pursuing a king who would need some advisors, that they thought they were headed to a royal court. The wise men didn’t know exactly what they were looking for but when they found it, they knew it. I’m sure they were looking for a palace, something impressive, something spectacular, powerful, and intense.

And they found a baby. I don’t know what made them recognize that this was it but they knew it when they found it.

When they discovered Jesus and worshipped him, they knew that their previous expectations of Herod were faulty, and they literally changed direction. Their attitude and behavior was altered by the seeking and finding of the sacred.

The wise men wondered. Then they wandered. But as J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, “Not all who wander are lost.”

These wise men had purpose. They knew who they were. They didn’t let the evil king control them. They didn’t let their fears stop them. They let God transform them.

They joined a host of people who were changed by the arrival of Jesus. Mary, Jesus’ mother, who found out she was pregnant before she was married. Joseph, who discovered his fiancee was pregnant, but who was called to be her caregiver and the father of her child. The shepherds, who were called out of the fields to be the sharers of this good news (which we’ll get to next Sunday). And finally the wise men who came the farthest, sight unseen, to worship at the feet of this homeless king.

So, I’ll ask you, why did you come here tonight?

“What did you come here looking for?” “What are you looking for in life?” How will you know when you find it?

There’s no star hanging over the church to light the way. In fact, the parking lot isn’t even that well-lit! But you came because you thought you should be here or someone who is cooking your dinner brought you here, right?

I wonder what happens if when we go seeking, whether it’s money, or pleasure, or happiness, or fame, if we found Jesus instead, if that would make a difference. The world says that we should go looking for bigger and better and more impressive, and when the wise men came seeking the once-in-a-lifetime ruler to end all rulers, they found a poor carpenter’s son, a young child with nothing to his name.

I pray that you will engage your sense of Christmas wonder, of childlike desire, of spirit-filled generosity, and fully-engaged participation. I pray that you will seek God with all your heart because the great God of the universe wants to have a relationship with you.

And when you realize that, I hope you’ll choose to “go home a different way.”

I hope it will change what you think about, what you focus on, what you want for your life…

I pray that it will change the things you worry about and what you fear…

I challenge you to let it change how you face today and tomorrow.

I pray that you will take heart, in the words of the angels who came to Zechariah, to Mary, to Joseph, to the shepherds, and to the wise men, and now come to you and me, that you’ll embrace the best that God wants for your life.

Wonder. Have faith. Move forward in God’s love and purpose. Seek the truth. Make changes, be change. Love one another.

Even in the darkness – do not be afraid. Instead, wonder.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today (DNBA – Advent 4): No Longer in the Dark (Luke 2:8-20)

This is the fourth sermon in the DNBA Advent series

Think about the worst job you’ve ever had. The dirtiest, nastiest job. I’ll give you my top 2.

The first summer after my freshman year, I worked at McDonald’s. I wasn’t considered quick enough to work the register (that’s saying something, right?) so I was a cook. Cooks prepare your food, swab the floor, scrape the grill, clean the bathrooms, take out the trash. Ah, the life of a McDonald’s cook.

The second worst job I ever had was working for water & sewer in the small town where I went to seminary. Ever wonder how pastors pay for their education? It stinks! …. When we weren’t digging ditches, warding off water moccasins or brown recluses inside of water meter holes, we were processing waste. I will spare you MOST of the details, but one day, I threw out a whole outfit, from hat to shoes, after we shoveled … stuff … into the back of a dump truck.

Turn to your neighbor and tell them about your worst job.

Now, let me tell you about first century shepherds.

Check out Luke 2:8-20. Here are some brave folks. Folks who probably can’t get other jobs, because they settle for taking care of the livestock in the middle of a great open pasture outside of the walls of Bethlehem. Folks who were considered unclean in the eyes of the Jewish law, folks who couldn’t interact with their families because being with them would make them unclean, too.

But they’re brave. They have to be. It’s just a few men and boys, out in the middle of this wide open field with no protection from the wind and rain, and nothing, except each other, to defend themselves against wild animals and thieves.

And let’s face it, who’s not at least a little afraid of the dark? You don’t have to admit it if you’re a lot afraid, either.

So these shepherds, who are not just caring for the sheep that aren’t theirs, they are living out in the barrenness are staying up all night to watch these sheep. Seriously, can any of you relate? You work all day and all night, caring for someone else’s stuff, getting paid pennies on the dollar, and you’re still kept in the dark.

This is your life. This is your “deal.” There is no passing Go! and collecting $200. It’s minimum wage and communal ostracization with no hope of parole.

These are the ultimate outsiders. The least, the last, and the lost. And they are about to get a very big “but” that changes their projection of life worth, value, and joy. Not an immediate “but” because we have do the whole scary, crazy, shiny angels and terrified audience thing first:

“An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.”

And the angel said, “Do not be afraid.” (A personal favorite.) But then he dives in. Sure, the angel has already told Mary that her son will reign on a throne forever; Joseph has been told they’re having a child who will save the people from their sins.

But this angel message is broader. The good news he delivers will bring great joy to everyone, and he tells these shepherds, these bottom of the barrel, “why should we listen to them”-types, that the baby is Savior, Messiah, and Lord. This baby will fulfill a bunch of prophecies that the shepherds have heard as kids but probably haven’t had rehashed much because of that whole, not being allowed in the synagogue thing.

Kick in the Transiberian Orchestra heavenly host, because, sorry, this isn’t the choirboy, don’t rock-it-too-hard choir, this is the blazing glory, light-it-up choir. The concert ends, and the shepherds, antisocial by occupation and religious stature, say, “Let’s go check it out!”

The shepherds could have been afraid that God’s message didn’t include them, that all of the things others had told them about themselves were true. Instead, they chose to recognize God’s love and purpose for them. 

There’s no hesitation. They hurry to find the family, placing them in fine company with people like the father in the Prodigal Son parable who runs, rather unceremoniously, to meet his long lost son who has disowned him. They run to the Messiah, leaving their sheep, their livelihood, their charges behind. Their old life has been shelved, and they’re ready to see what happens next.

It can’t get any worse, right?

The shepherds see the baby and immediately begin to spread word about a) what the angel said and b) what they’ve seen. The people who hear from them are amazed at what the shepherds say and certainly at the fact that it’s the shepherds who are telling them.

Kind of like finding out that Jesus’ team of crack disciples are is made up of fisherman, tax collectors, and terrorists. Not exactly the team we’d put together to lead the church, is it?

But, there’s the but we’ve been waiting for, Luke tells us that “the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

It says that the shepherds returned. Returned from what? The manger? Bethlehem? Traveling around town telling people about Jesus?

Returned to what? Certainly not the 12 to 12 shift with no pay, someone else’s menial slave labor. Certainly not isolation and darkness.

There’s absolutely no way that the shepherds “saw the light,” were touched by the light, received the good news and then turned around and went back to the mundane.

No, their whole world had been reframed. Refocused.

Every year I go to the ophthalmologist and get the “is this better? what about this?” eye test. Seriously, I’m blind without my contacts so it’s basically a real mean test by a devious little man. But I digress…

The beauty of the test is that they can figure out exactly what focus the lenses need to be so that my vision is correct when they put the contacts in. But without the reframing, I’d be blind. In the dark. Isolated by my lack of vision. (You see where this is going, right?)

The shepherds are in the dark, alone, and ostracized. They are outsiders who have been outside for so long that they think it’s the only way to be. And then the angels bring the light to them, and they experience the light fully. And they are no longer in the dark.

And even though they’re outsiders, they recognize that what they have is so spectacular that it would be criminal not to share it. No matter what they cost.

They are like Scrooge after the visions of the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. He saw something that didn’t just change Christmas, but that changed his life! He was different, passionate, even idiotic to the people he interacted with that morning because he knew that there was good news to share and generosity to be applied. He could not keep it all in!

Are we that liberated? Are we that motivated? Have we been so touched by the light, so washed by grace that we have to share?

Or are we willing to settle for 25 days and out for another year?

Reflect on the last month. What did you do differently? Who did you make time for? What did you value less? Did your spending change, your habits, your focus?

Most of us can’t keep eating the way that we ate over Christmas, but what if we’re supposed to spend the kind of percentages on helping others that we have for December? What if we’re supposed to drink in grace and sweat out patience for our kids, our spouses, our fellow Walmart shoppers, the crazy neighbor two doors down?

What if we have received the good news for all people and there’s someone in our lives who won’t hear it unless they hear it from us? I’m not into a gospel that shames but where does our responsibility come into play? When do we recognize that we were outside of the will and grace of God, and that Jesus brought us in through his birth, life, and death, and that it’s our purpose to share the good news?

want to tell people about Jesus, but I hate that they might not meet him if I’m their best shot. I want people to meet Jesus but I hate that others have done and said things that are detrimental, and sometimes outright false, to the good news of Jesus Christ. But I recognize that the grace of Christmas makes them more open to seeing Jesus and hearing the good news…

So why don’t I act and speak with boldness like I do in Christmas from now until Epiphany, and see what that changes?

There are many people outside our community who need to hear the good news. Their darkness is great, in the brokenness of their relationships, their addictions, their financial struggles, their shame. They have resorted to living in the dark like that is what they were meant for. They have assumed that the darkness is more comfortable, more like what they need than the light.

What could possibly change that?

Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” I might add that hopelessness and despair cannot drive out each other; only hope can do that. That isolation cannot be driven out by more alone time, but only by community. That violence cannot be driven out by more violence, but by peace breaking the cycle of violence.

We can’t expect our own lives to change if we keep going back to the “normal,” back to the dark. And we can hope and pray and wish on a star for those we know and love that they would be changed and saved by the forces that hold them back, but until they experience the love and light of the Christ child, their darkness remains.

The darkness is intimidating, but that’s why we have night lights. That’s why we have candles, flashlights, spelunking helmets, torches, and electricity. But the dark of our souls is even worse when we fail to purge the darkness with the light.

You, friends, are the light. You have experienced it, and seen it, and felt it. And it now shines from you, and grows with you. It’s up to you to share it, to serve others that they might hear the good news and see the risen Christ in your caring for them.

The darkness can be deep – and seemingly endless – but the shepherds remind us that we can make a choice to be boldly proclaim the good news. We can run passionately, without abandon into the night, and gather souls to Christ. God’s plan includes you. Even in the face of the night, do not be afraid.

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Sunday’s Sermon Today (DNBA – Advent 3): The Other Important Yes (Matthew 1:18-25)

This is the third sermon in the DNBA Advent series.

Every year during Advent, I find myself wishing we could unlock the personal journal of Joseph. Not the coat-of-many-colors guy, but the one who became the earthly father of Jesus.

Joseph intrigues me because he was a man who became a father – a man who potentially had the same questions about fatherhood I did but going into his marriage, he knew his wife would have a kid who wasn’t his! Let’s be honest – if you’ve had a child, and you have no apprehensions about being a dad or a mum, well, let’s just say I won’t hook you up to a lie detector.

Joseph has to deal with the ‘normal’ concerns – like how will he provide, what will change about his schedule, can he really get to know his wife while waking up at 2 a.m. to change a diaper … and what will the world his son grow up in look like, thanks to Roman oppression?

Some of these questions we might relate to – and some we might not. Just like the set up between Mary and Joseph.

See, Joseph and Mary are not married yet but they are contractually joined. They don’t live in the same house, they aren’t joined together yet, but they might as well be married.

Matthew tells us that Mary was “found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.” We don’t know exactly how, but the news got to Joseph somehow, the way that spectacular (or dangerous!) gossip travels through small towns. So, Joseph found out.

Think about that for a minute – on top of Jesus not being Joseph’s, it wasn’t even Mary he told him!

But it says that Joseph was “faithful to the law,” that is, he obeyed the Ten Commandments, he followed the rules. By law, Joseph could’ve exposed Mary’s pregnancy, and she would’ve been stoned in the streets per the laws of the Old Testament.

But it says that Joseph “did not want to expose her to public grace,” and intended to quietly divorce her. While everyone else seems to be abuzz about her pregnancy, Joseph uses his own soul, his own innate goodness, to absorb the criticism for Mary. He doesn’t yet understand what is going on but he still wants what is best for Mary. Joseph puts Mary first.

What is going through Joseph’s mind?

I can’t imagine having been in Joseph’s situation. You are about to get married, and suddenly, the gossip around town is that your fiancee is having someone else’s baby. And it’s your fiancee by an arranged marriage, so it’s not like you and this woman can just fall back on your longstanding courtship, or your mutual admiration for each other. No, this stranger you are supposed to love and cherish as your very own appears to have betrayed your trust, your contract.

And the letter of the law says that Mary has to die because it’s what your society does, and frankly, it’s the only way for you to save face.

But on top of that, Mary, you’ve heard, has told her closest friends that God appeared to her, and that the baby is actually God’s, and that he will be the Messiah who will save his people from their sins.

Seriously, where does she get the idea that spinning that wild tale makes it better?

Still, you’re a classy guy. You follow the law, but you were raised in a home that emphasized grace. You know what you can do, but you don’t want to live with the truth that you condemned a woman to death. So you decide to tell her father that the wedding is off, and move on with your life, even if that brings you more ridicule, even if you never get engaged again. Because that’s the kind of guy you are.

But, and it’s a big but, Matthew 1:20 says that when Joseph had considered all of these things, that an angel of the Lord also appeared to him. The angel quickly connects the dots: Joseph is called “son of David,” highlighting the historical line from Israel’s highest king to the king who was to come. He tells Joseph “don’t be afraid,” which seems to potentially care a different type of weight to it here, like “don’t be offended.” And he tells Joseph, as Zechariah was told, what they will name their baby, breaking the historical pattern of a father choosing the name. (Or actually letting the Father choose the name…)

And the angel tells Joseph that he (Joseph) carries a higher purpose: he will now raise up a young man who will “save [God’s] people from their sins.” No pressure, right? Joseph just went from a “what was Mary thinking?” moment to a “what was God thinking?” moment. And the author of Matthew quotes Isaiah 7:14, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” Which the God-fearing, rule-abiding, Old Testament-literate Joseph would have known.

For Joseph to be the kind of guy who knew what should happen to Mary and be the kind of guy who chose not to fulfill the letter of the law, Joseph was just the kind of man God wanted teaching his/His son Jesus what it meant to be human. What it meant to be a man.

Joseph could have been afraid of how things might look or what people might say, but he chose to trust God. 

Because when Joseph woke up from his dream, he did what God had told him to, implying that he immediately went and claimed Mary. That he immediately went and took responsibility from her parents for caring for her. That he did not consummate their marriage, but that from a public perception situation, he claimed her as his wife. No more gossip. No more rumors. End of story.

I wonder if God would find us to be “that kind of guy” or “that kind of gal” who would answer the call. We still have “what was God thinking?” kinds of moments, right? But do we respond the way that Joseph did? Are we obedient?

I recently asked my Facebook world to answer the question, “what rule or law do you have the most trouble following?” The answers ranged from forgiveness to abstinence to the speed limit. My best friend from high school highlighted the rule that governed the “Holy Lawn” outside of the school’s Catholic church that stated we must not walk on the grass. But most of the responses centered around forgiveness and “loving one another.”

For me, as I explore Advent, I recognize that there’s no Nativity Scene without Joseph. That there’s no holy family without Joseph saying yes, too, that Jesus couldn’t have been raised by a single mother in those days, and that while Mary did the heavy lifting (and she was obedient, too!), that Mary and Jesus needed Joseph to be “that kind of guy.”

Joseph was the man. He was the husband Mary needed, the father Jesus needed. He was faithful to the laws God had given his people, but he understood that grace overrode the letter of the law. He chose, even before the angel, to put his own desire and his own status and reputation below Mary’s; he chose to take the brunt of the community’s gossip on himself by claiming Mary obediently after the message from the angel.

So, after we’ve recognized that God is speaking to us, we must choose whether or not we will obey. Whether we will obey the Ten Commandments, like the one that instructs us to only worship God and nothing else before him; whether we will obey the greatest commandment to “love the Lord our God and love our neighbor as ourselves”; whether we will follow the instruction of Jesus based on both his teaching and his self-sacrificial example, to “lay our lives down for our friends.”

That would make us “that kind of person.”

From hearing or experiencing, to obeying. Somehow, this seems tougher, doesn’t it?

If we struggle to keep our speed under control on the road, how can we change our deeper psyche, our deeper love of self and instead put others first?

Will you obey this year? Will you hear the voices of the angels speaking to you… and be the angel this year for someone else? Will you recognize that what seems crazy to you is beautiful to God, that God continues to move?

It doesn’t matter what you think you have. Someone else has less. Less confidence, less faith, less time, less money. How will you obey God’s command to love, to give, to be like a brother or a sister to someone in need?

I wonder what Joseph was thinking. Michael Card put it this way in “Joseph’s Song”:

How could it be this baby in my arms
Sleeping now, so peacefully
The Son of God, the angel said
How could it be?

Lord, I know He’s not my own
Not of my flesh, not of my bone
Still Father let this baby be
The son of my love

Father show me where I fit into this plan of yours
How can a man be father to the Son of God
Lord for all my life I’ve been a simple carpenter
How can I raise a king, how can I raise a king?

He looks so small, His face and hands so fair
And when He cries the sun just seems to disappear
But when He laughs it shines again
How could it be?

Father show me where I fit into this plan of yours
How can a man be father to the Son of God
Lord for all my life I’ve been a simple carpenter
How can I raise a king, how can I raise a king?

How could it be this baby in my arms
Sleeping now, so peacefully
The Son of God, the angel said
How could it be? How could it be?

Joseph knew Jesus wasn’t his son, but he still was. God knew what Jesus needed to be when he grew up, and he knew that Joseph was the kind of person who could teach Jesus how to be a man.

Sounds mysterious, ridiculous, and otherworldly. With God, it often is.

How will you be “that kind of person”… right now?

Step up – follow Jesus unabashedly. Say yes. Do not be afraid. 

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