“Stir up your power, O Lord…” Dear friends always referred to 3rd Advent as “stirrup” Sunday, harkening back to their Texas cowboy roots. Others prefer the baking metaphor, so prominent in these late Advent days, as the flour is flying, butter is melting and sugarplums dance in our heads. But a metaphor is, after all, something that points us toward a larger truth. Today for this family gathered together, that truth is that God is always at work in us, hoisting us back in the saddle, creating a new recipe of life, forgiveness, service, faith and love. Will we participate?
This is the Sunday when we light the pink Advent candle and sing the Mary’s song. The lighter shade of the pink candle was meant to both honor Mother Mary and also to give us a little breather in the darkness that surrounds us. Christ’s coming is not very far away; we haven’t much longer to wait. Are we ready? Are we allowing God to use us to help lighten the burdens of others, to spread some hope where there is despair, to fill the hungry with good things?
The bookends of our readings today present two vastly different perspectives. Isaiah’s words are words of hope and transformation, of dreams coming true, of a future in God. There is no danger here, no one limps or aches; there are no predators. It is spring for Isaiah and God’s people are walking in harmony together along the Holy Way.
Matthew, however offers a bleaker perspective through Jesus’ words to and about John the Baptizer. Jesus cautions those who are expecting to wear the purple clothing of royal luxury without first enduring and learning from the trials and tests of faith. John has been imprisoned by Herod and his voice has been silenced in the wilderness but Jesus still recognizes and acknowledges him as a great prophet who is pointing the way for others.
The pairing of these two very different messages creates a tension within us that is quite familiar. We are waiting for the arrival of the Christ child, the return of our Lord Jesus Christ in glory and for the coming of the Kingdom of God that, at times, feel so near. We are children of the Light. We have died with Christ. We see God’s hand at work in the world around us. Yet, simultaneously we see and feel our own hurts and incompleteness, we feel powerless over the sophisticated troubles of our world, and we struggle to see and feel the hope we have been promised.
Good old Advent brings this paradox right home to us every year and each year we must discover new ways to be in this world but not of this world. Perhaps it is James who gives us the most practical advice on this subject.
Across the state of Vermont, from Quebec to Massachusetts, lies a hiking path called The Long Trail. Heading north from just east of Williamstown, The Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail converge. Somewhere just east of Rutland, the AT heads toward New Hampshire and The Long Trail winds its way through the Green Mountain National Forest, past ski resorts with names like Sugarbush and Mad River. It misses the home of Ben and Jerry’s by about five miles and heads relentlessly north, scaling Mt. Mansfield. It rarely goes directly through a town. In Vermont, we have the Long Trail and in Christianity we have the Long View.
Our brother James calls this patient endurance. Is it a virtue? A survival tactic? A cop out? It can be. For us, it is the spiritual fortitude, the muscles of faith that show us how to live in the hope that is God’s promise. We are to tame our hunger and thirst for immediate gratification.
And finding ourselves, as we do, living and worshiping in Christian communities, our patience gets put to work among one another. We are a living laboratory right here in beautiful Berkshire County! How we live together reflects Christ to all those around us. James tells us straightforwardly what to do: “strengthen our hearts.”
As we gather this morning we represent the Body of Christ in three states and at least ten different towns and villages and in at least two denominations. The reason for our gathering is to strengthen our bonds as brothers and sisters in Christ, to rejoice together in the light of 3rd Advent, to raise our communal voices in proclaiming the greatness of the Lord and to get to know one another a little better: to remember a name, to greet a child, to inquire about a friend, to pray, confess, and receive the bread of life together.
When I arrived in Sheffield almost seven years ago, this gathering would not have occurred to our lay or clergy leadership. Our coming together today is also the result of regional and national trends in our churches that include fewer members and increased costs of maintaining our buildings. Loren Meade, noted Episcopal author and priest, explains all this in detail in an article called Ministering in an Out-Going Tide. I think some of his points will prove helpful to all of us.
He writes, “It’s not our fault. Something big is going on. Work on your own faith (James would agree!) Find the things that feed your spirit---what are they? Whatever it is, be sure to make time for it, and do it. Don’t let anything get in the way of it. Get busy with some stuff you can do. Stand steady, no matter what happens. Remember our story. It’s not your denomination or your congregation. It’s a story that begins with Abraham, called out of Ur. It’s a story of a God who promises and keeps his promises. Live that story. You are not alone. You may not win out. Prepare for the long run. We’ve been called into a marathon, not a sprint. Don’t expect anything to be quick or easy. It doesn’t work that way.” [1]
Lest we despair, take heart. In our own Berkshires miracles are happening. Witness the one this month in Adams and North Adams, where two churches, St. Mark’s and St. John’s have voted to combine their churches into All Saints Episcopal Church. Ellen White, the former priest-in-charge at St. Mark’s wrote this on her Facebook page: “When I left St. Mark’s this was just a “twinkle in God’s eye” of a possibility. I know how much of a miracle this is: truly a work of the Spirit being manifested.!”
Not that their work is now finished. In many ways it is just beginning. That’s how God works. We never arrive, at least not for long, before we are pushed out in a new direction for the glory of God. The funny thing is that we never know where God is going to pop out at us and it probably won’t be where we are looking. “If you want to hear God laugh”, goes the old joke, “tell him your plans!”
We are gathered here together today to encourage one another, to worship together, to huddle in the winter darkness for the warmth and hope we know in Jesus Christ and in our imperfect communities of faith. Take heart!
There was a woman who had, in spite of a hard life and virtually no resources except her stamina and the strength of her faith, raised six fine children and sent them all to college. Asked how she did it, she replied, “I saw a new world coming.” Do you see it too?
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