November 27, 2011
Gift of Presence - First Sunday of Advent
- Isaiah 64:1-9
- Dr. Teri Thomas
Happy New Year! Today is the first Sunday of the new church year. The first Sunday of Advent. There is no other time in the calendar of the church when I feel the separation of sacred and secular so strongly. This is the time of year when what happens in here and what happens out there feel the most disconnected.
Now granted there are some strong similarities between the church and the world in this season. In both arenas it is a time of preparation and a time of waiting. But out there we prepare with shopping, baking, wrapping, decorating, spending, and partying. In here we prepare with worship, prayer, reflection, and longing. Out there everything is adorned with bright lights and tinsel and glitz. In here we recognize the darkness and light small candles. Out there we wait for presents- as in gifts. In here we wait for presence- as in being there. We wait for God- as in Immanuel- God with us.
So in Advent, we wait. Even though Costco had Christmas wrapping paper out in October,
Christmas is still a ways off. We still have the winter solstice, the longest night and the shortest day to get through. Leaves are still falling, grass is still dying, and the weather is still getting colder and grayer. And we enter a season of waiting, and God, according to the prophet Isaiah,
"acts on behalf of those who wait for him" (64:4).
But Isaiah says that in the midst of a heartfelt lament. The prophet expresses the frustration of his people. They've been in exile and are finally returning home. They expect everything to be as it was- their lives, their faith, the temple. Don't we always want it the way it was?
But the temple is gone and their faith is waning and they cannot find God.
God, who acted to create the world.
God, who promised to make a great nation from Abraham and Sara.
God, who led the Israelites from bondage in Egypt.
God, who led them to the Promised Land.
God, who acted in fire and in water and in wind.
God, who spoke in clouds and burning bushes.
Where is this God now, when we really need him? God had been powerful and present and real
over and over again. So the prophet cries-
O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
so that the mountains would quake at your presence—
God, are you there?
It is as if he is saying, "Come on God, we want results – and we want them now!"
When life throws us a curve and returning to what was normal is taking longer than expected,
our patience wears thin and the intensity of our anxiety takes over. We want results – and we want them now!
The waiting room is like that at the hospital.
The marriage counseling office is like that.
The parlor at the funeral home.
The cell of the jail.
The chair outside the principal's office is like that.
So is the chair beside the deathbed.
If only God would come down
and replace our despair with hope,
change our fear to anticipation,
move us from cynicism to faith.
Come on God where are you?
Could you come out of retirement please?
Have you left the building?
Have you left the world?
Have you left us?
Have you left me?
Surely, some of you must know what that feels like? Did you ever try to pray and feel nothing, see nothing, sense nothing? Have you ever really needed God to act in your life and felt no response? Ever searched desperately to feel God's presence and leading and found nothing? Instead of the heavens being torn open- our hearts are torn apart and God's promises seem to hover just out of reach. So we feel like Isaiah we beg God to tear open the heavens and come down;
God, just do something to end the hurt."
"Do something, God, to bring peace."
"Do something, God, to heal my family's brokenness."
"God, do something to let me keep my job."
"Do something to get my child out of Afghanistan."
"Do something to take away the anger that is consuming me."
"Do something to break the hold grief has on me."
"God, where are you?"
Just over three weeks ago we received word that one of our youngest members, 3 month old Elena Hinton, had been taken by ambulance to Riley hospital. She was not breathing and unconscious. Ruth went to pray with the family. The next day I went to visit. The family happened to be at lunch when I arrived and I was alone in Elena's dimly lit room. She had tubes and wires and machines. It all looked so horrifying, so frightening, so alone and so sad.
Then I saw, hanging from the foot of her crib a small white baptismal banner. It had her name carefully cross stitched by one of our members. It had the date of her baptism, September 25th. When I saw that banner I remembered standing here in this chancel holding her in my arms and promising her that God would be with her forever. I remember walking her down the aisle- along with Tom Duncan and all of you laughing and smiling and promising to help her parents raise her in the faith.
That banner reminded me that Elena was not alone in that room. It reminded me of God's presence with her. It reminded me of your presence with Elena and her parents even there in ICU.
Last week Elena's mom, Emmalee agreed saying "Honestly, there hasn't been a day we haven't felt God's presence the entire time. Whether it's from the messages, calls, texts, cards and prayers, we have never felt alone."
Elena is home now. She still has a long way to go in her recovery. Her parents still need our love and support and our prayers, but God is present. God is present in the hope.
Hope is what is left when your worst fears have been realized. Hope is what comes with a broken heart willing to be mended. (Patricia E. DeJong, Daily Feast, Year B)
God is with us in our waiting. Even when it doesn't feel that way. Paul reminded the Christians in Corinth that even in their waiting they were not alone. He said to them- and to us- "you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ". Paul invites us to consider that our ultimate hope is nurtured not so much by waiting anxiously for the future coming of Christ but by looking backward gratefully at the gifts we have already been given.
Hope comes not from longing for God to do something in the future but from remembering what God has already done in the past and is still doing now. And that's why when our world crumbles around us, we call to God, because we're convinced that God can do something to set things right.
God has. God is. God will.
Just wait.
Thanks be to God.
Amen