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SERMON
Reading 1 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
Five-year-old Madeline climbed into her
father's lap.
"Did you have enough to eat?" he
asked her.
She smiled and patted her tummy. "I
can't eat any more."
"Did you have some of your Grandma's
pie?"
"A whole piece!"
Joe looked across the table at his mom.
"Looks like you filled us up. Don't think we'll be able to do
anything tonight but go to bed."
Madeline put her little hands on either side
of his big face. "Oh, but Poppa, this is Christmas Eve. You said
we could dance."
Joe feigned a poor memory. "Did I now?
Why, I don't remember saying anything about dancing."
Grandma smiled and shook her head as she
began clearing the table.
"But Poppa," Madeline pleaded,
"we always dance on Christmas Eve. Just you and me,
remember?"
A smile burst from beneath his thick
moustache, "Of course I remember, darling. How could I
forget?"
And with that he stood and took her hand in
his, and for a moment, just a moment, his wife was alive again, and
the two were walking into the den to spend another night before
Christmas as they had spent so many, dancing away the evening.
They would have danced the rest of their
lives, but then came the surprise pregnancy and the complications.
Madeline survived. But her mother did not. And Joe, the thick-handed
butcher from Minnesota, was left to raise his Madeline alone.
"Come on, Poppa," she tugged on his
hand, "let's dance before everyone arrives." She was right.
Soon the doorbell would ring and the relatives would fill the floor
and the night would be past.
But, for now, it was just Poppa and Madeline.
God's Amazing Love - For all its trials and challenges, parenthood is
an unspeakable privilege. I count among the greatest joys of my life
having been able to watch my children grow from squirming little new
creatures into remarkable adults. I love them more than I know how to
say. And now they, in turn, are learning the awesome responsibilities
and joys of parenthood themselves - and, in the process, they're
allowing me to see my grandchildren through their loving parent eyes.
Oh, we're not perfect as parents, of course. We all make mistakes.
Sometimes we're irritable. We act selfishly. Sometimes we push too hard
- or not hard enough. We forget some things and hold on too long to
others. But we love our kids, don't we? And if anything were to ever
threaten them, we'd want to be there for them - no matter what.
Jesus once asked, if we humans who are sinful have such love for our
children, how much more does God, the sinless and selfless Father, love
us? God our Father loves us perfectly. But what happens when the love
isn't returned? What happens to the heart of the father when his child
turns away?
Reading 2 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
Rebellion flew into Joe's world like a Minnesota blizzard. About the
time she was old enough to drive, Madeline decided she was old enough to
lead her life. And that life did not include her father.
"I should have seen it coming," Joe would later say,
"but for the life of me I didn't." He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know how to handle the pierced nose and the tight shirts. He
didn't understand the late nights and the poor grades. And, most of all,
he didn't know when to speak and when to be quiet.
She, on the other hand, had it all figured out. She knew when to
speak to her father: never. She knew when to be quiet: always. The
pattern was reversed, however, with the lanky, tattooed kid from down
the street. He was no good, and Joe knew it.
And there was no way he was going to allow his daughter to spend
Christmas Eve with that kid.
"You'll be with us tonight, young lady. You'll be at your
grandma's house eating your grandma's pie. You'll be with us on
Christmas Eve."
Though they were at the same table, they might as well have been on
different sides of town. Madeline played with her food and said nothing.
Grandma tried to talk to Joe, but he was in no mood to chat. Part of him
was angry, part of him was heart-broken. And the rest of him would give
anything to know how to talk to this girl who once sat on his lap.
Soon the relatives arrived, bringing with them a welcome end to the
awkward silence. As the room filled with noise and people, Joe stayed on
one side, Madeline sat sullenly on the other.
"Put on the music, Joe," reminded one of his brothers. And
so he did. Thinking she would be honored, he turned and walked toward
his daughter, "will you dance with your Poppa tonight?"
The way she huffed and turned, you would've thought he'd insulted
her. In full view of the family, she walked out the front door and
marched down the sidewalk. Leaving her father alone.
Very much alone.
God's Enemies - According to the Bible we have all done the same. We
have rejected the love of our Father. Isaiah says, "Each of us has
gone his own way." St. Paul is even more blunt. We've done more
than turn away. In his letter to the Romans he says, "we were God's
enemies." A harsh indictment, you might think - but isn't it true?
An enemy is one who offends knowingly. Does that describe us? Have we
been God's enemies? I have. Have you ever done something, knowing God
wouldn't want you to do it? Have you ever hurt one of his children or
abused part of his creation? Have you ever supported the work of his
adversary, the devil? Have you ever acted as though you didn't know your
heavenly Father in public? I have. We all have.
Folks, we are by nature God's enemies. It is not that we can't do good.
We do a lot of good. It's just that we can't keep from doing bad.
"There is none righteous, not even one," says Paul. "All
have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."
Some would take offense at such strong words. They look around and say,
"Compared to a lot of people I'm pretty good." That may be
true. But I wonder how that line will work come judgment day. If that's
the way you think of yourself, let me ask you this. Have you ever gone a
whole day and committed only one sin? I can't remember a day like that.
But for the sake of argument, let's say you have. In fact, let's say you
live an exemplary life in which you average only one sin a day. Do the
math. With an average life span of 72 years, that would mean 26,280 sins
to your discredit. (And you've always been a very good person.)
Now, envision the moment you stand before God and you're called on to
account for the way you've lived your life. That's like being summoned
to traffic court. You've heard rumors that the judge can be lenient, and
you know you're an upstanding citizen and a good person, so you think it
might turn out all right. But just then the clerk brings up the fact
that you have 26,280 outstanding citations. That is not a pretty picture
to think about. And that's what it would be like for the person who only
commits one sin a day. Brothers and sisters, we have a problem. We are
sinners, and God word says, "The wages of sin is death."
What's going to happen to us? The deeper question is: How does God react
when we become his enemies?
Reading 3 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
Madeline came back that night, but not for long. Joe never faulted
her for leaving. After all, what's it like being the daughter of a
butcher? In their last days together he tried so hard. He made her
favorite dinner; she didn't want to eat. He invited her to a movie; she
just stayed in her room. He bought her a new shirt; she didn't even say
thank you. And then there was that spring day he left work early to be
at the house when she arrived home from school.
Wouldn't you know that was the day she never came home.
A friend saw her and her boyfriend in the vicinity of the bus
station. The authorities confirmed the purchase of a ticket to Chicago;
where she went from there was anybody's guess.
The Way Home - What does God do with his runaway children? Does he say,
"Well that's one less headache - good riddance?" No, he loves
us so much that he goes after us. God our Father left home in search of
his erring children. Armed with nothing more than his passion to win our
hearts, God became one of us. Paul put it this way: Jesus didn't cling
to his prerogatives as God's equal, but stripped himself of all
privilege by consenting to be born as a mortal man and to live as a
servant.
This is the heart of the Christian message: that God became human. But
he didn't make his appearance as an emperor or king, a statesman or
investment banker. God showed up as the infant son of a Jewish
blue-collar worker. God our Creator chose to grow up rubbing shoulders
with the people he created. More than once he was rudely advised that he
should know his place and stay in it. But with a servant heart he taught
and fed and cared for and healed and helped obstinate, arrogant, sinful
people like you and me - most of whom hardly acknowledge him.
But the serving didn't end there. Paul says that, having this servant
heart, he humbled himself and became obedient to death - even death on a
cross! "The price of sin is death," it says. But Jesus came to
pay that price for our mistakes so we wouldn't have to. This Jesus who
breathed life into all that lives, who by his will sustains the life of
the universe, stood that day toe-to-toe with the power of death and said
with a quiet and controlled voice, "You win. This time you
win." The giver of life gave up his life for us. Why would he do
that? Max Lucado answers that question this way: Jesus loves us so much
that he would rather go to hell for us than spend eternity without us.
God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. He did all this to
bring his children home. That's how much God loves us. Yet most people
have spent their runaway lives oblivious to the gift. They never even
saw it coming.
Reading 4 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
The scrawny boy with the tattoos had a cousin. The cousin worked the
night shift at a convenience store south of Houston. For a few bucks a
month, he would let the runaways stay in his apartment at night, but
they had to be out during the day.
Which was fine with them. They had big plans. He was going to be a
mechanic and Madeline just knew she could get a job at a department
store. Of course he knew nothing about cars, and she knew even less
about getting a job,but you don't think of things like that when you're
intoxicated on freedom.
After a couple of weeks, the cousin changed his mind. And the day he
announced his decision, the boyfriend announced his. Madeline found
herself facing the night with no place to sleep or hand to hold.
It was just the first of many.
A woman in the park told her about the homeless shelter near the
bridge. For a couple of bucks she could get a bowl of soup and a cot. A
couple of bucks was about all she had. She used her backpack as a pillow
and jacket as a blanket. The room was so rowdy, it was hard to sleep.
Madeline turned her face to the wall and, for the first time in several
days, thought of the whiskered face of her father kissing her goodnight.
But as her eyes began to water, she refused to cry. She pushed the
memory deep inside and determined not to think about home.
She'd gone too far to go back.
The next morning, the girl in the cot next to hers showed her a
fistful of tips she'd made from dancing on tables."This the last
night I'll have to stay here," she said. "Now I can pay for my
own place. They told me they are looking for another girl. You should
come by." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a matchbook.
"Here's the address."
Madeline's stomach turned at the thought. All she could do was
mumble, "I'll think about it."
She spent the rest of the week on the streets looking for work. At
the end of the week when it was time to pay her bill at the shelter, she
reached into her pocket and pulled out the matchbook. It was all she had
left.
"I won't be staying tonight," she said, and walked out the
door.
Hunger has a way of softening convictions.
Pride and Shame - Pride and Shame. You'd never know they are sisters.
They appear so different. Pride puffs out her chest. Shame hangs her
head. Pride boasts. Shame hides. Pride seeks to be seen. Shame seeks to
be avoided. But don't be fooled, the emotions have the same parentage.
And the emotions have the same impact. They keep you from your Father.
Pride says, "You're too good for him." Shame says,
"You're too bad for him." Pride drives you away. Shame keeps
you away. If pride is what goes before a fall, shame is what keeps you
from getting up after one.
Reading 5 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
If Madeline knew anything, she knew how to dance. Her father had
taught her. Now men the age of her father watched her. She didn't
rationalize it, she just didn't think about it. Madeline simply did her
work and took their dollars.
She might have never thought about it, except for the letters. The
cousin brought them. Not one, or two, but a box full. All addressed to
her. All from her father.
"Your old boyfriend must have squealed on you. These come two or
three a week," complained the cousin. "Give him your
address." Oh, but she couldn't do that. He might find her.
Nor could she bear to open the envelopes. She knew what they said, he
wanted her home. But if he knew what she was doing, he would not be
writing.
It seemed less painful not to read them. So she didn't. Not that
week, nor the next when the cousin brought more, nor the next when he
did again. She kept them in the dressing room at the club, organized
according to postmark. She ran her finger over the top of each but
couldn't bear to open one.
Most days Madeline was able to numb the emotions. Thoughts of home
and thoughts of shame were shoved into the same part of her heart. But
there were occasions when the thoughts were too strong to resist.
Like the time she saw a dress in the clothing store window. A dress
the same color as the one her father had purchased for her. A dress that
had been far too plain for her. With much reluctance she had put it on
and stood with him before the mirror. "My, you are as tall as I
am," he had told her. She had stiffened at his touch.
Seeing her weary face reflected in the store window, Madeline
realized she'd give a thousand dresses to feel his arm again. She left
the store and resolved not to pass by it again.
Choices - We all make choices - some wise, some not. God gives eternal
choices, and those choices have eternal consequences. We've all made
some bad choices in life, haven't we? We've chosen the wrong friends,
maybe the wrong career, perhaps even the wrong spouse. We look back over
our lives and say, "If only I could make up for those bad
choices." We can. One good choice for eternity offsets a thousand
bad ones on earth. The choice is yours.
Since Jesus came to earth, this eternal choice has been available to us.
Yet we wonder how some can choose eternal life and some reject it. How
could two men see the same Jesus, and one choose to mock him and the
other choose to honor him? I don't know how, but they did. There were
two other crosses on that hill the day Jesus died - two criminals
suffering the same death. And those two crosses remind us of one of
God's greatest gifts: the gift of choice. One chose Jesus; the other
mocked him.
One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: "Aren't
you the Christ? Save yourself and us." But the other criminal
rebuked him. "Don't you fear God," he said, "since you
are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting
what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." Then
he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with
me in paradise."
When one dying criminal prayed, Jesus loved him enough to save him. And
when the other mocked, Jesus loved him enough to let him. He allowed
them the choice. He does the same for you.
Reading 6 from Max
Lucado's The Parable: God's Longing For You*
In time the leaves fell and the air chilled. The mail came and the
cousin complained and the stack of letters grew. Still she refused to
send him an address. And she refused to read a letter.
Then a few days before Christmas Eve another letter arrived. Same
shape. Same color. But this one had no postmark. And it was not
delivered by the cousin. It was sitting on her dressing room table.
"A couple of days ago a big man stopped by and asked me to give
this to you," explained one of the other dancers. "Said you'd
understand the message."
"He was here?" she asked anxiously.
The woman shrugged, "Suppose he had to be."
Madeline swallowed hard and looked at the envelope. She opened it and
removed the card. "I know where you are," it read. "I
know what you do. This doesn't change the way I feel. What I've said in
each letter is still true."
"But I don't know what you've said," Madeline declared. She
pulled a letter from the top of the stack, and read it. Then a second
and a third. Each letter had the same exact sentence. Each sentence
asked the same question.
In a matter of moments the floor was littered with paper, and her
face was streaked with tears.
Within an hour she was on a bus. "I just might make it in
time."
She barely did.
The relatives were starting to leave. Joe was helping his mother in
the kitchen when his brother called from the suddenly quiet den.
"Joe, someone is here to see you."
Joe stepped out of the kitchen and stopped. In one hand the girl held
a backpack. In the other she held a card. He saw the question in her
eyes.
"The answer is 'yes'," she said to her father. "If the
invitation is still good, the answer is 'yes'."
Joe swallowed hard. "Oh, my. The invitation is good."
And so the two danced again on Christmas Eve.
On the floor, near the door, rested a letter with Madeline's name and
her father's request.
"Will you come home and dance with your Poppa again?"
Epilogue - The Bible is the story of God's love for his wayward
children, and the Gospel is the heart of that story. The most important
story in the world is the riches-to-rags story of how our Savior emptied
himself of all but love and died to pay our way home to our waiting
Father. But his story doesn't end on the cross. St. Paul follows his
account of Christ's perfect sacrifice with two of the most majestic and
humbling statements ever written. Each begins with the word
"Therefore!"
"Therefore," says Paul, "God exalted him to the highest
place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name
of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the
earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory
of God the Father." I don't know how God did it, but very early in
the morning on the first day of the week, Jesus walked out of that tomb,
never to enter again. And in his perfect sacrifice, Jesus not only took
our sins to hell and left them there forever, he did the same to death -
and not only for himself, but for all God's wayward children. He did it
for you and for me.
"Therefore…" Paul goes on to say, "work out your
salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to
will and to act according to his good purpose." Work out your
salvation, says Paul. It's not enough to simply acknowledge what Christ
has done for you. It is not just "evidence that demands a
verdict." It's a gift that requires a response! Madeline always
knew her father loved her. But there came that point when she knew that
she had to stop running and turn toward home and be reconciled to him.
She had to work it out.
For every person there comes a time when we have to turn to our heavenly
Father and say, "I want to come home." Today can be that day.
And today can be the day you hear him say to you, "Oh my, yes, the
invitation is still good."
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