“Why me?”
Luke 1:26-38 (December 24, 2023)
It was a day like any other, the day an angel came to visit Mary. At least that’s how I imagine it: It was quite an ordinary day … with a very unexpected occurrence.
Here’s how one artist has portrayed the scene. Mary sits on the side of her bed, half-dressed. She is young and innocent, and a bit dishevelled.
She’s not entirely sure what is happening to her. How could she be, there, in the presence of a heavenly being? Before her stands Gabriel, sent from God.
“Greetings, favoured one!” the angel declares. “Are you talking to me?” she asks.
Notice the expression on her face. We’re told that Mary “was much perplexed by these words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.”
She may be perplexed, but she’s not frightened. The angel speaks to reassure her: “Do not be afraid, for you have found favour with God.”
And then the strangest words tumble out of the angel’s mouth. Mary tilts her head as she tries to take them in: “Conceive. A son. A kingdom.”
Wait, what? “How can this be? Since …”
Well, you know the situation. Mary has long been promised to a man named Joseph … but she knows nothing of either birth, or the human intimacy that must come before it.
“How?” she repeats, with genuine curiosity.
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Mary’s life is about to change, dramatically. That’s how it is when God decides to do something. One ordinary day, you’re minding your own business, pretending there’s nothing else that matters.
And then … it happens! Not usually because of an angel. But something catches hold of you. Something from the recess of memory, perhaps. A stirring in your heart. A glimmer of light, God’s light. A sudden awareness that you are not alone, and never have been. And it’s up to you – whether you deny or welcome it.
And that brings us to our question for today. All through Advent we’ve been wrestling with questions, each week a different one. And here is today’s: “Why me?”
It often comes as an expression of complaint. As in, “Why did this unfortunate, unwelcome, unappreciated thing have to happen?”
“Why did I get that parking ticket? Why was my house broken into? Why did my car stop working, leaving me stranded at the side of the road?
“Why did that deal fall through? Why did that relationship not work out? Why did I have to receive that dreaded medical diagnosis?”
“Why me?” Often the question is unanswerable. But we ask it anyway. “Why me?” expresses a feeling that something has come to us that we don’t deserve. And where, we ask, is the justice in that?
Why would God intrude upon Mary’s life, upsetting its order and stability, and sending her down a path that will change her life forever? It’s a path she hadn’t asked for. “Why me?”
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If you’ve had a child – any child – you know what a life-altering experience that is. And part of what we see in Mary is how much she shares in common with the rest of us.
Mary is not unusual. She’s an ordinary teenage girl. I say teenage, because that’s when most women married in first-century Palestine.
She had no particular qualities that we are told of. The angel mentions nothing about her character, or religious inclination. We can only speculate about that.
And, in a way, it doesn’t matter who you’ve been – whether good or bad, old or young, rich or poor, big or small. None of that will ever prevent God from reaching out to you, inviting you to be part of God’s plan.
This is God’s doing, God’s initiative through and through. We were reading this passage in our Advent Bible Study last week, and one of the participants remarked that Gabriel’s visit is more like announcement than request. God shows up and simply declares “This is what I am doing!”
Of course, Mary also agrees to it. Which is a beautiful thing: to willingly participate in the work of God. To be open to the Spirit’s gift of life! Whenever we do that, any one of us might become bearers of God’s love, and birthers of God’s kingdom!
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This is such good news! It’s what incarnation is all about: God entering into our flesh-and-blood world. Coming to live in the very midst of our humanity. So near to us! Immanuel, God with us.
We hear it every year in the season of Christmas. But can we still be amazed at the utter audacity of it? God values our earthiness! Honours it. Embraces it. Lifts it up and makes it holy.
If God’s own self will come and live in Mary’s womb, endure the messiness of birth, emerging to greet the world there amongst the animals, in the dust and smell of a stable … Well, God can be present anywhere, anytime. There is nowhere we can be where God is not!
God with us. With Mary and her people, ordinary folk. With you and me. With all the “nobody specials” of the world.
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“Why me?” I want you to consider this question again. Not as a complaint. But just the opposite! Consider it as Mary’s wonderment, and our wonderment, at the amazing grace of God.
Not “why me” because my life has been so inconvenienced. But “why me” that I should be shown God’s favour? That you, God, would send an angel to visit, here in this back-of-the-woods place?
Why should I, of all people, be included in your comings and goings? Why make me part of that company of saints who’ve been loved by you, and incorporated into your great kingdom? “Why me?”
Remember Elizabeth, Mary’s relative, whom she came to visit? Mary entered the house. And at the sound of her voice the child in Elizabeth’s womb leaped for joy.
Filled with the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth blessed Mary. And listen to what she has to say: “Why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” (Luke 1:43)
https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54191 [retrieved December 23, 2023]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/swperman/221074981/." width="238" height="114" />“Why me?” It’s not a complaint! It’s an expression of resounding joy! “Why am I so fortunate to be here in this place? Why should I be graced with your lovely presence? And the presence of my Lord!
Have you ever felt like you were the luckiest person in the whole wide world?
When you looked into the eyes of someone you loved? When you caught a glimpse of astonishing beauty in God’s creation? When you listened to a piece of music that sent shivers down your spine? When someone did something for you that was generous and good and completely undeserved?
“Why me?” I am so fortunate. Thank you!
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Listen to this poem, part of a collection of poems written by inmates in prison. The author looks through a mirror one day and sees only darkness in his life.
But then looks again, and discovers a glimmer of light. A voice that says:
“You have one more chance
What are you waiting for?
Try one more time
Don’t look at the past.
Because …
I am ready to shine through you the rest of your life.
thank you LORD
Jesu Cristo”[1]
“Why should any of us be graced with forgiveness and love and new beginnings? Why should we be given the gift of Jesus? God with us, here in our flesh and blood lives. The mystery of the incarnation! It’s startling, astounding. Completely unexpected. “Why me?”
What amazing grace is given to us at Christmas! And to think now that we too might become part of God’s working in the world! Just think of that! “Why me?” Why not me?
To you be glory, God who brings heaven to earth, through Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen!
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QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION:
- When have you said, “Why me?”
- How is God gifting you this Christmas?
- How might you be part of God’s kingdom way?
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[1] Poetry from Prison: Lifting Up the Lowly, By Liz Milner. Posted 17 December 2017. https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1595-poetry-from-prison-lifting-up-the-lowly, Accessed Dec. 19, 2023.
“What now?”
Isaiah 40:1-11; Mark 1:1-8 (December 10, 2023)
For several summers, way back when I was a student, I had a job with the Public Works Department of the city. Most of the time I worked alone, driving a tractor, cutting grass. But sometimes I worked with others.
We were always in full public view. On the job site, there were times we had to pause and wait for something to arrive. A truck to come with a load of asphalt or gravel, for example.
When that happened, we were keenly aware of the need to keep doing something. Not just laze about, leaning on our shovels, putting in time. That would not be a good look for municipal taxpayers.
So “look busy,” we said to one another. There was almost always something we could do, some kind of work to be completed, or preparation to be made, while we waited for whatever was going to happen next.
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And it got me thinking this week about the church, and what we might be doing together in this time of Advent waiting.
This year we’re asking a series of questions. Last week it was “How long?” How long must we wait? Of course there’s no easy answer to that. Soon, we’re told, but not yet. So don’t waste your energy in speculation. Instead, get on with your life of faith.
And what is that life of faith? What now are we meant to be doing? What now … in this Advent time of waiting?
Our scripture readings this morning offer some possibilities. I’d like to suggest three things. Three things we can be doing as we wait. Are you ready? Here they are.
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Consider, first of all, these words from Isaiah: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”
A great empire had laid siege to Jerusalem, overrun its defences, destroyed the house of God, and deported many of its citizens. But a voice from heaven gave instructions to God’s prophet: “Comfort my people.” Say to them, “Enough!” “God “will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom.”
“Comfort my people.” What a lovely message for those who suffer!
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There is so much suffering in our world today. It is part of our shared human experience. And following the prophet Isaiah, we too may bring God’s comfort.
When we ask the question, “What now?” … could that be part of our agenda? To comfort the afflicted, to bind up the broken-hearted? Who do you know that’s broken-hearted?
The comfort in this passage is not “comfort” – as in sit in your easy chair, rest your feet, have a cup of whatever you fancy, and pamper yourself. This comfort is meant as healing medicine for those who are wounded.
I had a call from a friend this week who is grieving the untimely death of her adult son, her only child. What words of comfort can I give? Somehow, any words in that setting sound callous and trite. How can I show her that I care?
The poet, Emily Dickenson, wrote:
“If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.”[1]
There is much suffering in the world. It seems overwhelming. What can we do about it?
I can’t provide housing for all those displaced refugees around the world. But I can pray for Lupuki Lukungu and the family we’re sponsoring as they wait to begin a new life here in Saskatoon.
I can’t help everyone in our society who finds life unaffordable. But I can contribute something to our local food bank, and encourage governments to be responsive and compassionate.
You probably can’t go to Israel or Gaza. But you can support the work of MCC, who have people on the ground ready to help.
We can’t fix all the post-Covid division. But we can listen better, and be a good neighbour, and try not be the cause of more of hostility and strife.
“Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.” A tender word from God’s people would surely be a welcome thing!
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“What now?” What now as we wait? We can offer comfort. That’s one thing. Here’s the second: Let me suggest we also become bearers of Good News pointing to the presence of God!
“Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good news; lift up your voice with strength … lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” Here is your God.
So where do you see God? I see plenty of darkness. Where can I see light?
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I’ll tell you one sign that appeared to me. And I know I’m not the only one who saw it. Tuesday, 8:40 in the morning, I looked out the window, and there it was: The most beautiful, bright red sky. 
The sun was at such an angle that it lit up the clouds.
We live in the “land of living skies.” So a scene like this was not unusual. But it was glorious! It lasted for about 10 minutes, then faded. Can we find God in that very ordinary thing?
It’s a skill we can practice, actually!
A few years ago I carried around with me a little blue notebook. A book of Kingdom Sightings. Every time I saw or heard or experienced God’s presence throughout the day, I would make myself a note. At the end of the day I’d say “thank you, Lord!”
“Say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God! With practice we can see more clearly. St. Bonaventure, who lived in the 13th century, “spoke of God as one “whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”[2]
Now stop and think about that. Centre everywhere, circumference stretching to infinity! God can be found in all things, everywhere, all the time. If we but open our eyes.
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Where have you found God this week? Was it something big or something small? In the glory of creation? In an act of kindness? A word of hope? A quiet moment? A piece of music? A verse of scripture? Frost on the trees? Someone who held your hand?
God is everywhere present in this world that God has made. So instead of pointing at the darkness, and shaking our heads with discouragement … let’s lean into the light and live each day more and more within its goodness.
And let’s not be afraid to bear witness to that. Instead of complaining, let’s be ready to share a word of gratitude.
Advent is all about God’s coming: God’s coming to the world in Jesus. God’s coming at the end of all things to establish a reign of justice and peace. And listen now …
It’s also about the coming of God each and every day to be present among us with love and healing grace. In this season of Advent, we practice attentiveness as we wait.
“What now?” you ask? Let’s be people who bring comfort to the world. Let’s be bearers of God’s Good News. God is with us!
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And finally, one more thing. This one from the Gospel of Mark. Let’s be people who live the way of Jesus – even before he arrives. Let’s prepare the way for him.
Our Gospel reading presents John the Baptizer. He prepares the way by calling people to repentance. And it tells us that “the whole Judean region and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him …” to be baptized in the Jordan river.
And I think, really? The whole Judean region, and all the people of Jerusalem? Well that may be a bit of exaggeration. The point is there were a lot of people attracted to John and his message!
And that’s amazing to me! Because I think, here’s this wild man from the wilderness. He wears rough clothing and eats strange food. And from everything we read about him, he seems to have an abrasive personality.
Yet people came to him. In droves, they came! Why?
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And all I can think of is this: Repentance is not the harsh, demanding, guilt-inducing thing we make it out to be. No, it’s not like that at all! Repentance is an opportunity. A chance for new beginning.
Repentance says we can turn our lives around. It doesn’t have to be more of the same old thing. A new way is possible.
When we think things will never change. John arrives to say, “Christ is coming with power to make all things new!” “I have baptized with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” The same Spirit that hovered over the waters at the beginning of time.
You think your life will never be any different. But it can be, and it will be! And that is such a hopeful thing!
God is coming. Even now, God is coming. And it can change your life. Point you in a new direction. Transform your heart and soul. Give fresh energy, a new vision. Take us all out of our self-centred ways. And give us love to live for God and neighbour. A new lease on life! That’s what repentance offers.
God is coming into the world. And we can live that new life God brings already, here and now. We can learn the way of Jesus. Inviting him to come and live within us, more and more, with every ruby-red sunrise.
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“What now?” we asked at the beginning of our sermon. As we wait for God’s arrival, what now?
Here’s what I’m suggesting. Three things: That we be people who bring comfort to others. That we become bearers of God’s good news, pointing to God’s presence everywhere. And that we live Jesus’ way, even as we wait for his arrival.
Here are some things for you to ponder as we reflect on today’s question: “What now?”
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QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION
- Where have you seen God this week?
- What hopeful change can you make in your life?
- In what concrete and tangible way can you care for others?
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[1] “I shall not live in vain.” https://dailypoetry.me/emily-dickinson/if-stop-heart-breaking/, Accessed December 9, 2023.
[2] Quoted by Richard Rohr, Center for Action and Contemplation, email meditation, November 13, 2016.
“How long?”
Isaiah 64:1-4; Mark 13:24-37 (December 3, 2023)
Something happened in our family this week. A joyful thing, but a little scary too. Our son, Adam, and his wife had been expecting twins. We knew that. We didn’t think they were coming quite this soon. Maybe sometime in the new year, we were told.
Babies have a habit of arriving on their own schedule. They’re not that predictable. And we’re not in charge of things either. So if you get a due date, please take it with a grain of salt.
These twins arrived early, and they are quite small. It’s amazing to see their tiny, perfectly formed, features. The important thing is they are healthy. And we are very thankful for that! We hope and pray it will continue to be so.
Advent is about a coming, an arrival. But it’s not here yet. In this way, Advent is quite different from Christmas, which is full-blown joy and celebration: Christ is born. God is with us!
Advent is different. A time to look forward with anticipation. Not only to the coming of a child long ago, but also to the coming of Christ at the end of all things. Advent is about God’s coming to be with us. And the terrible long wait that is part of our Christian journey of faith.
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During these next few Sundays, we’ll be asking some questions that arise from our reading of scripture. And this morning’s question is “How long?”
How long must we wait for God to be with us? How long must we wait for the reign of God to be established? How long have you been waiting? How long are you willing to wait?
Last week, on Eternity Sunday, we said that God is with us everywhere, all the time. Whether we see it or not. And that is true! With the church through the ages we confess that Jesus is Lord. And that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
But here’s the thing. I know this in my life, and maybe you do too: We don’t always see the lordship of Christ. It doesn’t always feel as though God is with us. Advent begins with emptiness and longing. Where is God, we want to know.
This morning we read the words of Isaiah arising from a nation in exile. This prophet pleads with God: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down.”
Come down from your dwelling place on high. Come and heal our brokenness here on earth. Come and make all things new. In this season of Advent, that is our prayer: That God would open the heavens and come down.
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In our Gospel reading, we hear some of Jesus’ last words to his disciples. Mark chapter 13 begins with them admiring the stones of the Jerusalem temple. But Jesus says that earthly temple will come tumbling down.
And it did. In the year 66, around the same time that the Gospel of Mark was being written, the Roman Army laid siege to Jerusalem. They sacked the city and destroyed the temple, the house of God.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Aelia_Capitolina_(15522086868).jpg" width="243" height="75" />Mark 13 is known as the “little apocalypse.” Like all apocalyptic writing it uses powerful symbolic language to describe a situation of crisis. When Jerusalem was destroyed, it must have seemed like the end of the world. Jesus speaks of cosmic upheaval. The stars in heaven falling, the powers that hold the universe shaken.
Where is God in the presence of such things? When does it end? When will God’s reign finally be established? “How long must we wait?” the church asks in every generation. “How long?”
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Waiting isn’t easy. A few days ago I was held up at a train crossing. It’s not unusual in our city. Don’t those trains seem to come through at the most inconvenient time?
I’d arranged with someone to meet them at a certain time and place. I was driving down Warman Road, coming toward the intersection at 33rd Street. Everything was going as it should. The light changed ahead of me. No problem. But then I saw it, coming around the corner, ever so slowly.
The red lights at the crossing began to flash. The barriers came down. My heart sunk.
Four big diesel engines rumbled across in front of me. This train was going to be a long one. Despondent, I turned off the key, folded my arms, and began to wait.
I wish I could say that I waited patiently. But I did not. I knew this train would make me late. And we are so driven by schedules and deadlines. “What a waste,” I fumed. “How long will it be?”
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When is the last time you had to wait? And what was it you were waiting for? And how did you wait? Patiently or impatiently? Angrily, anxiously, fearfully, calmly?
Waiting is part of our human lives. Waiting for a child to be born. Waiting for an appointment. Waiting to speak with a real live person, not just a recording on the other end of the line.
Waiting for test results. Waiting for treatment. Waiting for a parcel to arrive. Waiting for a visit, or a holiday. Or a day of release, a day of healing, a day of freedom.
Waiting for a promise to be kept. Waiting for prayer to be answered, all these years. Waiting for Jesus, for his presence, his peace, his comfort. His salvation.
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There’s a song by the band U2 that riffs on the words of Psalm 40. It’s from their album titled “War,” and it goes like this:
“I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He lifts me up out of the pit
Out of the miry clay
“I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song
“How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long, how long, how long
How long to sing this song?”[1]
They’d sometimes end their concerts this way: One-by-one, the band would leave the stage as the audience continued to sing the refrain “How long to sing this song?”[2]
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How long must we wait? I wish I could give you an answer.
In our reading from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus says the time is near. “When you see the branches of the fig tree become tender, and it puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near.” I love that image of a tree on the cusp of bearing fruit. In a dark winter world, it speaks of God’s new life coming to be!
Apocalyptic literature may sound frightening. But it’s intended to have the opposite effect. Not to frighten but to encourage. To give us hope and strength. To say that Jesus is Lord. Even if he seems very far away.
When those stars are falling, then “you will see the Son of Man coming in clouds with power and glory.” The fig tree will blossom and bear fruit. The world will be put right.
But now, listen to this: “About that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” So don’t bother with predictions. They’ll probably be wrong. Over the course of history, they mostly have been.
Some things are simply not ours to know. But take hope, nevertheless. Know that Christ is coming. Even in the darkest time he is near, very near. Near. But not yet. So we must wait.
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And how should we wait? Well, don’t fall asleep, says Jesus. Stay alert. Be on the watch. God is God of the unexpected.
Isaiah pleaded that God would “Come with fire. Make the mountains quake and the nations tremble,” as in days of old. But one starlit night, the Christ-child slipped into his earthly mother’s arms. And only a few lowly shepherds knew anything about it.
We think God acts in big, dramatic fashion. And that may be so. But God acts in small things too. Christmas is about things that almost went unnoticed. A tiny child was born. It will change the world.
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“How long must we wait?” I can’t answer that question for you. I can only encourage you to wait and see how God might show up unexpectedly in your life. For none of us know when the master of the house will come.
Jesus said the Son of Man is near, standing at the gate. We should note that He gave these words to the disciples just before he was crucified and the world, as they knew it, fell apart. In that great darkness, they must have been terrified.
How long? Three days? Three years? Three thousand years? Jesus tells us to watch and be alert, trusting that even in the darkest of our days something is happening! In a world of impatience and instant almost everything, we are called to watch and wait.
“How long, how long, how long
How long to sing this song?”
And then, suddenly, it happens!
QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION
I invite you to take a few moments now and ponder these questions.
- Can you remember a time when God was with you while you waited?
- What are you waiting for now?
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[1] https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/36798/, Accessed Dec. 3, 2023.
[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/40_(song)#Live_performances, Accessed Dec. 2, 2023.“How long?”
Isaiah 64:1-4; Mark 13:24-37 (December 3, 2023)
