“Embodying God’s Spirit”
Luke 1:26-45 (December 22, 2024)
Lindsay and I are expecting the imminent arrival of our fourth grandchild. Which is hard to believe because, when I first came three years ago, we had none, zero. Since then, however, things have changed.
If you happened to see our daughter Katie, last Sunday, you may have noticed. She’s certainly not small! The due date is December 28th – for what it’s worth. Really, it could happen any time. We’ll keep you posted.
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Our scripture reading for today features two pregnant women – Elizabeth and Mary.
Elizabeth’s husband, Zechariah, had been serving in the temple when an angel of the Lord appeared to him. For years, they’d been praying, waiting, hoping for a child. Now this angel announces their prayers have been heard! When he goes home, Elizabeth gets pregnant, and the story of John the Baptist begins.
Mary’s story also starts with a visiting angel, who greets her and tells her she is favoured. The Lord is with her!
The angel explains that she’s been chosen to have a special child. And that her relative, Elizabeth, is already six months pregnant. “Nothing,” said the angel, “will be impossible with God.”
Mary hi-tails it to the hill country. She knocks on the door of Elizabeth’s home, and when it opens she sees one very pregnant woman standing there before her.
It’s true, what the angel said. This God is working in the lives of two ordinary women in a very extra-ordinary way!
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Two women, Elizabeth and Mary. They share a special bond. I’m reminded of our first pregnancy. Lindsay and I were a young couple. My long-time friend and his wife were also expecting.
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I remember them visiting in our home. And these two women standing in front of each other, bellies protruding, faces smiling. It was a happy time for all of us!
The women shared their challenges of being pregnant, their hopes for how and when these children would be born. It was a point of connection.
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Any shared experience can be like that. When you first move into a place, maybe there’s another newcomer, and you discover you have some things in common.
I remember being in hospital, several years ago. It was a worrying time. I’d just had surgery for cancer. My doctor was not only a skilled surgeon, but a caring human being.
One day he came into my room. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said. He walked me down the hall, and introduced me to another man, a little older, who’d just had the same operation.
The next few days we visited back and forth, talking about what we knew and what we didn’t know, and finding encouragement and strength in our growing friendship.
I’m thankful for that connection. Whatever we’re going through in life, companionship with others makes it so much easier.
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https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=49490 [retrieved November 29, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pontormo-visitation-after-restorationRGB.jpg." width="324" height="90" />
At first glance, Mary and her kinswomen Elizabeth, appear as two very different people. Mary is quite young. Probably a teenager. Elizabeth is much older. Her hair is grey and wrinkles mark her face.
Elizabeth, for years, had borne the shame of being barren. In that particular time and place, having children was expected. And when it didn’t happen, people wondered why. “It must be the women’s fault,” they said. “Cursed by God,” they assumed.
Mary, on the other hand, is scandalously pregnant! It’s something completely unplanned, and not by the one she’s betrothed to. Her trouble is of a different sort. If word ever got out, well … talk about shame! She could be stoned to death.
Two different women. Two very different circumstances. Both pregnant. In both of them, the mysterious power of God is at work! That’s the key! The Holy Spirit moving in their lives. New life, given by God, coming to be.
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I think there are two miracles to celebrate this morning. The first is what Christmas is all about: The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.
The second person of the Holy Trinity, which is to say God’s own self, found a place in the life of Mary. God entered our world, fully and completely. The Creator of all became part of creation!
There’s a great mystery here, as we ponder how this could ever be. That divinity would clothe itself with human flesh and blood! That the Almighty would set aside power and might, accepting the limitations of earthly time and space. Walking with us. Entering into our joys and sorrows. Emptying self to become servant of all!
Now that’s a miracle, if ever there was one!
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Emmanuel, God with us. Whatever we go through, God is neither distant nor far away. Jesus reveals the presence of God among us, bringing down to earth the love of our Creator. Healing our brokenness and division and hostility. Embracing and reconciling. Redeeming us from sin. Loving us – just as we are!
It begins with Mary being open to the angel of God, offering her consent, saying “Yes! … Let it be with me according to your word.”
Thank goodness for Mary. Thank goodness for Jesus. Thank goodness for the Spirit that brings new life.
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That’s one miracle, the most important one, by far. Christmas celebrates the incarnation of God.
But there’s a second miracle. Can you see it? It’s right there in front of us … in the person of Elizabeth. The Holy Spirit is working in her life too! Her child will bear witness to Jesus.
I love that place in the story, when Elizabeth opens the door of her home and Mary is standing there. And suddenly the child within Elizabeth leaps for joy!
I guess all mothers feel their babies kicking and moving around. But the timing of this is uncanny! Just as Jesus appears, tiny, unborn, John gives an extra-urgent push against the womb.
Then, Spirit-filled Elizabeth prophecies: “Blessed are you, Mary! And blessed is the fruit of your womb.”
She opens the door and welcomes Mary in. Elderly Elizabeth, who couldn’t have a baby (or so it was said), opens her dwelling to this young woman who is pregnant (much too early, before her marriage is complete).
Elizabeth shelters Mary from the gossip of her home-town neighbours, who may be wagging their chins and pointing fingers.
There’s a bond between these two. Borne of pregnancy, and family relationship. And the Spirit! They lived together for three months. That’s a lot of time! Rising in the morning, doing household chores throughout the day, spending long evenings together. Talking, sharing, wondering, hoping.
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Tell me this? Who walks with you on your journey of faith? Who is your spiritual companion?
Is this easier for women, than for men? Some of us do tend to keep things more to ourselves. All I know is that every one of us needs a friend. None of us are meant to walk through life alone.
Who helps you make sense of strange things? Whose door do you knock on? Whose door could you knock on? With whom do you share your secrets? Who would you trust with precious things?
Companionship is a great and wondrous gift! I think it’s the second miracle in the story. Just as the life of God came to dwell in the womb of Mary. So the Spirit indwells Elizabeth. The love of God seeks to becomes embodied in our human flesh and blood.
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The church, we say, is the “body of Christ.” Something like a second incarnation. We are all baptized, says the apostle Paul, by the Spirit of God, into one body. (1 Corinthians 12:13)
And this body is amazing in all its diversity! No more Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free. These parochial identities we cling to, slowly disappear. We are one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:28)
The church is no mere social club. The Church is a community created by God. Birthed anew. Spirit-filled, we’re called to follow Jesus.
In our story today, older Elizabeth embraces younger Mary. I love this intergenerational mingling. Young and old together. Two different women. Yet both are bursting with new life. Both have allowed the Spirit of God to work within them.
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Two miracles! The incarnation of God in Jesus. And the ongoing embodiment of God’s Spirit in the wider community of faith.
One of our home-grown Saskatchewan theologians, Ron Rolheiser, has written of our need for “a God with skin on,” that is, a God who is physically real and touchable. This is such an important part of what it means to be human.
As members of the body of Christ, we ourselves have a part to play in presenting God to the world. Made in his image, “we are entrusted to reflect all that he is: love, grace, peace, joy, kindness, mercy, justice, hope, acceptance, inclusion, healing, goodness.”[1]
A listening ear, a caring touch, a hot casserole, a plate of cookies, a phone call, a visit, a card, a prayer, a ride to an appointment, a simple smile. In all these ways, we can represent the “God with skin on.”
Like Elizabeth and Mary, we are companions on the journey of faith. The Spirit of God is working in them … and in us!
Thanks be to God for these wondrous gifts we receive and celebrate at Christmas!
[1] Mandy Bayton, “‘God with skin on’: Learning to live as the body of Christ,” https://www.christiantoday.com/article/god-with-skin-on-learning-to-live-as-the-body-of-christ/131062.htm, Accessed December 19, 2024.
“Consider the lilies”
Matthew 6:25-33 (October 13, 2024)
Thanksgiving is one of my favourite times of year! I love this season of autumn, with its cooler temperatures and bright-coloured leaves. I love being thankful for the gifts of God.
I have fond memories around this celebration. On Thanksgiving weekend, three things happened in our family. First, my Dad put the storm windows on the house, preparing it for winter. Second, we went to the Erin Fall Fair, where my Dad met up with friends and neighbours, and my brother and I spent hard-earned savings on rides in the midway. It was very exciting!
The third thing we did was attend the Anniversary Service at Hillsburgh Baptist Church. That’s the village church where some of my ancestors worshipped. The anniversary service was always at Thanksgiving, which seems appropriate to me. I grew up in the city but there, in rural Ontario, in a sanctuary decorated with corn stalks and sheaves of wheat, there was a different feeling: a greater sense of connection with the land and nature.
The windows of the church were clear panes of glass. As the service went on, I could see the branches on trees outside blowing in the wind, the sky and clouds beyond them. It felt like God had set us smack-dab in the garden of Eden.
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“Consider the lilies,” says Jesus to his disciples. He asks us to look around and notice things that God has made. Read them like a book. See if you can discern their message.
Christian theologians sometimes speak of two sources of revelation. There is a general revealing of God that comes to us in creation all around. And there is a more specific revealing of God that comes to us in the history of God’s people. Both are important.
Sometimes Jesus quotes from the sacred scriptures he has inherited from his ancestors: the Torah, the Prophets and the wisdom Writings. But in today’s passage we hear him refer to that larger book of revelation, the scripture which is creation itself. “Look at the birds of the air. … Consider the lilies of the field.” Can you discern their gospel message?
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On a day when we celebrate sowing, reaping and gathering into barns, it may come as a surprise for us to hear that the birds of the air do none of this! “They neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns,” says Jesus, “and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.”
They are not as consumed with their activity as we may be. They still have to gather material for nests, and search for food, and look after their young. But most of the time it all just seems to work out!
“Don’t be so worried,” says Jesus. We have a heavenly Father who cares for us.
Same with the lilies. These wild flowers are not planted by human hands. They need no earthly gardener. They seed themselves and miraculously grow.
They neither toil, nor spin threads to be woven into fancy garments. “Yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.” Yes, the richest, most powerful monarch of Israel’s storied past was no better attired than a common butter-cup or daisy.
Wildflowers are indeed beautiful. They often grow in inhospitable places. Meanwhile, in our carefully manicured gardens, we struggle to supply the right amount of nutrients and water. We work hard to prevent the infestation of predators and disease. The dreaded “lily-beetle” is the bane of Lindsay’s gardening existence. She was so frustrated by the end of this summer that she pulled most of her lilies out, vowing to never grow them again!
“If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown in the oven, will he not much more clothe you – you of little faith?”
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“Don’t worry what you will eat or what you will drink or about your body, what you will wear.”
There’s a kind of idyllic poetry to these words and images. I find them beautiful! They calm my anxiety. They sooth my restless spirit.
But part of wonders, can this be true? Can I really just relax and allow my life to rest in the loving hands of God?
Worry is part of our human condition. If we didn’t plan or think ahead and try to arrange our lives just so, well, where would we be?
One of our much-appreciated handy-persons was working around the church on Friday. Holes were patched, windows closed, outside water taps turned off before the temperature drops and freezes them. That kind of “toiling” is important. Some kind of worry – and the scurrying about that goes with it – seems prudent to me.
But can we worry too much? Can we get our “knickers in a knot” about the silliest of things? Can our fears, sometimes, be overblown? Can the stomach-churning worry we feel inside us make us sick?
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These are anxious times we live in. We worry about all kinds of things, large and small. We imagine huge disasters: the possibility of nuclear war, environmental catastrophes. We fear the kind of world we may be leaving for our grandchildren. We worry about even the most ordinary things: the clothes we wear, the things we say, the food we serve.
“Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? … Can any of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your span of life?” asks Jesus.
The answer is “no, we can’t.” Not one single minute! In fact, worry can have the opposite effect. It can shorten our lives and take away our joy. Anxiety causes us to retreat from life instead of embracing it.
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Don’t worry. Look at the birds. Consider the lilies. When we look outside ourselves and see the big book of God’s creation, the holy scripture of this world that God has made, we find ourselves in awe and reverence.
An exchange was overheard on day, when our then-teenage son invited two of his friends to come over and hang out. They were sitting on the deck in our back yard. And you’ll never guess the conversation they were having!
They were discussing among themselves which was their favourite flower. Pointing to this one or that and praising its particular beauty.
This is not the usual conversation of teenage boys! But there they were, set in the midst of a garden, transported for a few moments to another realm.
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Viktor Frankl was a holocaust survivor, who later wrote a book about his experience. He tells about one afternoon when the men had tramped back several miles from their work site and were lying exhausted and sick and hungry in their barracks. It was winter, and they had marched through a cold, dispiriting rain.
Suddenly one of them burst in and shouted for the others to come outside. Sensing the urgency in his voice, they stirred themselves and staggered into the courtyard.
The rain had stopped, and a bit of sunlight was breaking through under the leaden clouds. It was reflecting on the little pools of water standing about on the concrete pavement.
“We stood there,” said Frankl, “marveling at the goodness of the creation. We were tired and cold and sick, we were starving to death, we had lost our loved ones and never expected to see them again, yet there we stood, feeling a sense of reverence as old and formidable as the world itself!”[1]
Even when things are really dark, there can be light.
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The word in our text which we translate as “worry” means to be “preoccupied with” or “to be absorbed by” something.[2]
When Jesus says “don’t be worried” he’s telling us not to be consumed with the many cares of our earthly existence. Don’t worry so much! Don’t let all these things take over your life.
There is one thing that needs to come first, one matter that deserves our full and undivided attention: “Strive first for the kingdom of God.” Seek to know the realm of God’s providence and loving care. Immerse yourself in that.
“Do not worry saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’” Folks who don’t know God are preoccupied with such things. But not you!
God feeds the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field. Will not this loving, heavenly Father also care for you?
And the answer is, of course! God already knows your every need. Don’t be so obsessed with worry. Turn your attention to the one thing that can save your life and make it whole.
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Strive to live within the reign of God. Love God. Love your neighbour. Be kind and generous. Share what you’ve been given. Look after each other – especially those who are most vulnerable. Aim for peace and justice. Live in right relationship with God and others.
This is the kingdom way. When we do that, everyone benefits. We are all the better for it! Seek first the kingdom of God … and these other things will be yours as well!
This Thanksgiving Sunday, I’m asking you to consider the lilies. Or the birds. Or the … leaves. Or … the northern lights – which have been spectacular these last few nights.
This is a picture of the sky over our neighbourhood park when Lindsay and I were out on our evening walk. We weren’t expecting to see them. But there they were, available to all. They surprised us! One more gift from our gracious heavenly Father.
I wonder what will God reveal to you today from the world of God’s creation?
Don’t worry. Instead, consider all the beauty and blessing that God has put into your life. And whatever else you do today, take a moment to be thankful. Amen.
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[1] Viktor E. Frankl, “Man’s Search for Meaning,” quoted by John Killinger, “Of Rainbows, Geese and Wildflowers,” http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/killinger_3816.htm.
[2] Chris Haslam, http://montreal.anglican.org/comments/archive/btksgm.shtml, Accessed October 12, 2024.
“In the context of eternity”
Revelation 1:1-8 (November 24, 2024)
This sermon was intended for Eternity Sunday. I pray we will hear it this week, in light of all who’ve had a special place in our lives. We grieve when they are gone. We also give thanks for the life we’ve shared.
We listen for God to speak to us – a word that comes from beyond our living. A word that speaks to us of unseen things, bringing healing and hope. Can we hear it?
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Our scripture reading introduces the book of Revelation. In Greek, the title is “apocalypse.” We sometimes think of that as another way of saying “disaster.” We might call a deluge of rain an “apocalyptic” weather event.
The death of a loved one can be a disaster. But apocalypse is not that. Instead, the word means revelation. When all seems lost – God gifts us with a revelation.
Apocalyptic literature in the Bible arises in a time of crisis. This writing is meant not to scare us, or confuse us, or send us down long roads of speculation about its strange symbolic language. No, none of those things! For the early Christian community, the book of Revelation was meant to rekindle hope!
“Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of the prophecy. And blessed are those who hear and who keep what is written in it. For the time is near,” the writer says. It’s not about something far off and far away. It’s about finding the courage to live faithfully in a dangerous time.
And make no mistake, those early years of the church’s life were dangerous! The fledgling communities of Christ-followers faced all kinds of trial and tribulation.
By confessing that Jesus is Lord, Christians implied that the emperor was not. By refusing to participate in the worship of false gods, they alienated themselves from others in powerful places. I guess you’ve heard what they did to Christians in the Colosseum. It was a terrifying time!
Yet the book of Revelation brought hope, and still does, that all beastly powers, even death, will be defeated. Darkness will not prevail. There is one Lord who is sovereign over all.
And the saints of God – those who remain faithful – will emerge victorious. The loving sacrifice of Jesus will, ultimately, win the day.
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This passage brings us back to where we need to be: In the presence of God, whose authority knows no limit. Whose love will never end.
“Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come …”
The words remind me of an encounter that Moses had in the wilderness, years before, when he came across a blazing bush. It was the strangest thing – the bush was aflame yet not consumed! Out of the bush, came the voice of the LORD, calling to him.
When Moses asked who was speaking, this is what God said: “I am who I am.” Tell the Israelites, “I am has sent me to you.” (Exodus 3:14)
That’s a wonderfully cryptic name, don’t you think? “I am” – the power of sheer existence, standing outside of human time and space. We can hardly get our minds around it. Everything, for us, has a past, a present, and a future. But in God’s realm it’s one and the same. “I am who I am. I will be who I will be.”
Faith pulls us into a bigger world, beyond the clouds that darken our temporal sky. Beyond the present moment of hardship or pain or sorrow. The book of Revelation sets the trials of our time against the broader landscape of God’s eternity.
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“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”
I guess you know that Alpha and Omega are letters from the Greek alphabet. One is at the very beginning, like our letter A. And the other comes at the very end, like our letter Z.
I picture it this way: like a pair of bookends, with all the chapters of our human lives gathered in between.
God is with us, at our beginning. From the beginning of creation, when God said “Let there be light.” And the beginning of each individual life, as we are born into the world.
And this life-giving God will never leave us!
“Where can I go from your spirit?” writes the Psalmist. “Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. …If I say, ‘Surely, the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you …” (Psalm 139: 7-12)
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God is there at the beginning of life. And God will be there at the end of all our days. This is the hope we cling to as people of faith. The great specter of death does not mean the end of life with God.
Our lives have many beginnings and endings. All through life we start new things. A new program, a new residence, a new job, a new relationship. After a time, many of these run their course. And so we let them go.
But those endings always open doors to new beginnings. We are invited to walk through those doors and experience what waits for us on the other side. Why should death be any different?
Our scripture passage names Jesus as the faithful witness and the first-born of the dead. The power of God’s love raises Jesus from the grave. Jesus has entered a new reality beyond anything we can ever experience in this life. And he invites us to come with him.
This is a classic Easter Icon, a religious image that depicts the resurrection. Notice that the tomb is smashed, the floorboards broken. The risen Christ is pictured grabbing the hand of the original man, Adam. And what is he doing? Jesus is pulling him up, out of the grave, to share his resurrection life.
Jesus is the firstborn from the dead. He is the beginning of a new humanity. Easter is a promise given to us all.
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“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord. The beginning and the end.
And also – listen now – the God who is with us in the messy middle. God at our beginning, God at our ending. And this is crucial: God in the hard and difficult days that fall between those two poles.
Grief can be an isolating experience. When we lose a loved one who is close to us, we feel very much alone. Not only do we miss that person, but we sense that no one else in all the world can be feeling the things that we are feeling. And it’s true.
But God is with us in that grief. God knows, as no other human can ever know, the deepest, most secret corners of our heart. God is with us. Everywhere, all the time. There is no place we can be where God is not!
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The Australian theologian, William Loader, writes, “In the beginning: God; in the end: God;
in the midst of life: God.” And then he goes on to observe something: he writes, “These are less statements about time and place as they are statements of hope and trust.” [1]
Remember, I said the book of Revelation is meant to give us hope and trust. In a falling-down world, it invites us to put our faith in a God of never-failing love. A God whose purpose will prevail.
That invitation is always with us, but somehow it becomes even more meaningful when you’re treading a difficult path. “Let me take hold of you.” says the Lord. “Let me be your saviour. Let me lead you to new life.”
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This last Sunday of the church year is sometimes called “Reign of Christ Sunday,” or the feast of Christ the King. Have you heard of that?
It’s a relatively recent innovation. By recent, I mean 1925. The first world war was over but nothing seemed to be resolved. Tensions abounded. Secularism and nationalistic movements were on the rise. Authoritarian leaders were taking hold. In light of all that, Pope Pius XI called the church of his day to direct their attention to the Lord of all lords and King of every king. Worldly leaders may have their time. Politicians come and go, but they do not last forever.
I don’t know how you’re feeling about your life, or the state of the world today. John Pavlovitz suggests that many of us are grieving loss.
“It may be your idea of God or country or family.
It may be your belief in the inherent goodness of people.
It may be a relationship with someone you once felt fully at home around.
It may be your sense of optimism about the future.
It may be the lightness you used to feel when you woke up in the morning.
It may be every single one of these things, and more that you can’t quite name right now.
You are in good company,” he writes.[2]
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Here and now, in the messy middle between the alpha and omega, the beginning of creation and the consummation of all things, we are invited to put our trust and hope in the risen Lord, who sits at the right hand of God, his heavenly father.
He is with us – over all, in all and through all. And of his kingdom there will be no end. On Eternity Sunday we’re called to put our hope in him. And to live each day in the light of his love. Amen.
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[1] "First Thoughts on Epistle Passages in the Lectionary," Easter 2, William Loader, Murdoch University, Uniting Church in Australia.
[2] Quoted in email from John Pavlovitz, Copyright © 2024 The Christian Century, All rights reserved.
