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SERMON
I wonder as I wander out under the sky,
how Jesus the Savior did come for to die
For poor ornery sinners, like you and like I,
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.
I've always resonated with this Christmas hymn. I suppose it could
be because God has given me a mind that seems to wonder quite a bit,
and to wander just as much. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it is
the other part of the carol that hits so close to home… you know, that
part about poor, ornery sinners.
And I think if we were all to be honest with ourselves, the "ornery
sinner" part should connect with each one of us. I just had to look up
ornery in a couple of different dictionaries to see what they had to
say. I found a variety of words used to define it. Words like
"disagreeable, contrary, cantankerous, difficult, irritable, touchy,
crabby, stubborn, willful, disobedient." Have you ever found yourself
somewhere in that list? Well, if you haven't, I'd suggest asking someone
you know and trust to follow you around for awhile with a notebook. I
won't mince words… you're on that list… we're all on that list. In fact,
the word "ornery" is actually a corruption of the word "ordinary."
Normal, ordinary, every day, run of the mill, wandering, wondering
sinners, like you and like… I.
Look, the fact of the matter is that we are all sinners. It's as simple
as that. We have all fallen short, and continue to fall short, and each
one of us does so, at least on some level, by our own choices. Today is
not the time to go into detail about the nature of sin, but Jean Calvin,
the great Reformed theologian, said that, in effect, no one would ever
need to face judgment for the sins of Adam, because we seem to be all
too willing to take Original Sin and make it our own sin. We include sin
as a part of our daily lives. We choose sin. Every day, whether it is
acting wrongly or not acting rightly, whether it is in thought or word
or deed… we, ourselves, choose sin. Nobody chooses it for us. Even in
ancient Israel people knew this to be a fact. The prophet Isaiah writes,
"We all, like sheep, have gone astray." (53:6) And the psalmist
puts it in our passage this morning: "If you, O Lord, kept a record
of sins, O Lord, who could stand?"
Israel knew about sin. They were God's chosen people, but sin was a well
worn path in Israel, and Israel had often borne the consequences for
their sin. Their sin had led to invading armies and even, eventually, to
exile. And yet, again and again, even as they lived with the
consequences of their own sinful behavior, they also lived with a firm
faith that God would deliver them. God would forgive them. "But with
you is forgiveness," the psalmist says. "with the Lord is
unfailing love and with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem
Israel from all their sins." God's promise was a promise of
restoration and new life. God Himself would come to them.
You hear the promise every Advent… "For to us a child is born, to us
a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will
be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of
Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.
He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and
upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and
forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this."(9:6-7)
This is just one of the many prophecies and promises. The Old Testament
is full of them, from Genesis to Malachi… God will save! God will
redeem! God will uphold! God will judge! God will bring light and life!
God will COME! Israel knew these promises. They trusted these promises.
And they waited.
"I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope."
I wonder what the life situation was for the writer of this psalm. He is
obviously troubled… "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord…" As
a people, Israel had walked in the depths. I wonder, though, what was
going on in this particular person's life that propelled him to sit down
and pen these words. "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord…Let your
ears be attentive to my cry for mercy." One thing is certain. He
knew he needed God. He knew he needed God's help. He knew he needed God
to show up, to act, to save him. "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than
watchmen wait for morning, more than watchmen wait for morning." Can
you just feel the anguish there… "more than the watchmen wait for the
morning…" O LORD! in the darkness this man cries for the light! HEAR
US AND SHOW UP!!!
The people looked at themselves, they looked at their world, and they
knew that only God could make things right. And so they waited for the
Lord. And they waited. And they waited. And for hundreds and hundreds of
years they waited. And it seemed as if God was silent. I wonder how
weighty that silence must have been. The years passed, and no Messiah.
Army after army rolled through the streets of Jerusalem, and no Messiah.
The temple was destroyed and rebuilt, sacked and repaired… and still no
Messiah. I wonder how much the waiting, how much the silence weighed
upon them.
I can still remember a summer day up at Tall Timber Ranch in Leavenworth
Washington when a big storm hit. It was the day in between camps, and I
was walking with a friend down the dry, dusty road from the old lodge to
staff housing, or as it was more commonly called, "the ghetto." It was a
hot day, and in the bushes the insects were droning, the birds were
twittering, the little chipmunks were rustling in the leaves. And then
suddenly, it all stopped. It was as if the air thickened around us… it
felt heavy in our lungs. It was so still, as if the whole world had come
to a standstill. There was silence all around us, but a silence that
seemed to shout. I'd say that it was the proverbial ‘calm before the
storm,' but it was not calm. The atmosphere was charged with energy… and
though it was still, we just knew something was about to happen. And of
course, something did… the thunder split the silence, cracking the sky
overhead, and in just a few seconds the sky opened up and we were
running for cover as buckets of rain started to fall.
I wonder if that's the sort of silence Israel felt as it waited for the
coming of the Lord. A deafening silence! As if the entire world stood
stock still, patiently awaiting the coming of the one whose voice had
called it into existence. Did the silence shout, "Prepare the way!" Did
all creation hum with expectation energy?
I wonder... I wonder, because when Jesus did come, almost 2,000 years
ago, it seems that some people… most people… people who had been waiting
so eagerly… missed it. All the promises and expectation, but the event
found people profoundly un-ready. Who was there to welcome the king of
creation? A few shepherds and some foreigners? Where was everyone else?
I wonder if in a human attempt to fill the cosmic silence people just
got themselves too busy. I wonder if they lived loud and productive
lives, bustling here and there, building a heritage for themselves and
for their children. I wonder if they simply found ways of taking care of
themselves. I wonder if their lives grew louder and louder until,
finally, they could no longer hear well enough to tell when the silence
was broken… until, finally, they forgot to look for what was really
important.
But the silence WAS broken! Nearly 2,000 years ago, God DID show up in a
new and profound way. Nearly 2,000 years ago the angels split the
darkness, cracking the heavens with the sound of their halleluiahs.
Nearly 2,000 years ago the silence was broken as a little baby boy took
his first gasp of air. The sound of that breath must have shaken the
very foundations of the universe for it was the sound of God saying "I
am HERE… with you… here." My heart burns at the thought of it…Immanuel…
God with us… GOD WITH US!
How could people have missed it? How could they have not been ready? How
could God sneak up on people like that?
For some strange reason, a few weeks ago, as I was wondering about this
Advent stuff, my wayward mind wandered into marine biology, and I found
myself thinking about krill. You know what krill are? They're small
shrimp-like creatures ranging in size from microscopic to about 5inches.
They are also the primary food source for the blue whale, the largest
animal on the planet. Now, this is what I've been wondering… how in the
world could those little creatures NOT see a whale coming? A blue whale
is about 3,000 times as big as the larger krill. It is close to 100 ft
long and masses, on average, about 120 tons. It is also the loudest
animal on the planet, with a call that is 188db (that is 48db louder
than a jet airplane)… a call, incidentally, that it uses to find krill.
I wonder, how could they not see or hear or feel it coming? Or is it
that they just don't recognize what it is that approaches?
I know… it's a bizarre thought to have in connection with Advent. But I
wonder… because, you see, some people missed it when Jesus came that
first time. And Jesus said that he would be coming back. Once again, the
angels' voices will split the sky with their halleluiahs. Once again God
will act to save, to redeem, to uphold, to judge, to bring light and
life. God will COME!
It has been awhile, almost 2,000 years, since those promises were made,
and I wonder how much the waiting weighs upon us. Paul, writing just a
short few years after Jesus, recognized that it was not easy to wait.
"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of
childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves,
who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait
eagerly for our adoption as sons…" If it wasn't easy for Paul, way
back then, and it's not likely to be any easier for us a few thousand
years later. But I wonder, as we wait, what are we using to fill the
silence with?
I don't pretend to know when Jesus will return. I won't play with
prophecy and try to guess how many shopping days ‘til the coming of the
Lord. But I know that he will come. The silence is deafening. We are
ripe for a savior; He will come.
I also know that he has offered us a foolproof way of making sure we'll
be ready when he does. A way to practice our welcome. In Matthew 25,
Jesus says that if one wants to welcome him, one merely needs to welcome
those who are hungry, or thirsty, those who are strangers, or naked, or
in prison. Funny, isn't it, that the one who's birth the angels sang,
who will return again in power, chooses (in the meantime) to come to us
looking like a poor ornery sinner. It makes one wonder… Will we
hear him? Will we be ready to welcome him, when he comes?
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