the SECOND SUNDAY of ADVENT

December 9, 2018

Luke 3. 1-6

God speaks in tones only the lowly hear!

Last Sunday, right after worship, we convened a special meeting of the congregation. The reason: to vote on a motion by the council to sell this building. Not the church, the building. The motion passed. First thing, Monday morning, the phone rang. It was a friend. A colleague I hadn’t talked to in almost four years. The voice on the line was compassionate. Concerned. He’d read the latest newsletter and wondered what was going on? I have to say, I’ve been asked that question a lot, over the past few months. From people – like my friend – who genuinely care. But also from others who aren’t all that interested in the story. There’s the thoughts-and-prayers group. And there’s the “grapevine” group. And it’s pretty easy to tell the difference between the two.

But for most – ourselves included – this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. When you plant a church, it’s supposed to be a forever thing. It’s supposed to sprout and grow and blossom and bear fruit. At least, if you do it right. And when it doesn’t work that way, well, it’s embarrassing. We figure we must have done something wrong. We must have made mistakes, somewhere along the way. Done things we shouldn’t have done. Not done things we should have. We thought we did our best. We believed we tried our hardest. But no matter what, it’s just all kinda petered out. And last Sunday, we voted to sell our building. The building, not the church. But questions still come. From others. From ourselves. And it’s the questions we keep asking ourselves that are hardest to answer.

This past Thursday, I had lunch, as I usually do, with my “Jesus friends!” That’s what Lanie calls them. Four or five Episcopal priests from the area. And I shared the latest. The next morning, one of those friends sent a link to an article from the Atlantic: “America’s Epidemic of Empty Churches!” I pulled it up. Read through it, right away. Shared it on our Facebook page. There was one line, in particular, that stood out. “Many of our nation’s churches,” it said, “can no longer afford to maintain their structures—6,000 to 10,000 churches die each year in America—and that number will likely grow.” Evidently, we’re far from unusual. Apparently, this is nothing new. But it’s still hard not to feel that somehow we’ve failed.

But we need to understand, we need to know, there’s a difference between failing as a people of god. . . and struggling to become that people for a new century! For a new time and a new place. But selling the building – not the church – and partnering with Christ’s Lutheran in Odessa gives us time to learn how to become what is needed! What is wanted!

What we’re doing here isn’t, merely, about avoiding debt. As of this moment, all the bills are paid. But this is a chance to step back, take a deep breath, and start over, again! Start over, again, and do things differently! This Sunday, contrary to popular opinion, we’re, actually, in a better position than we were, this time, last week. We’re still here! And like Gretchen said in the sermon a few weeks ago, God isn’t done with us! We voted to sell the building – not the church – but we’re still running the race! We’re still fighting the fight! Each and every Sunday, the word is proclaimed and heard! Each and every Sunday morning, the gospel’s administered and received! And thanks to your decision, it will be for years to come!

And if that isn’t enough, take a look, one more time, at the gospel reading for this morning. In particular, Luke, chapter three, verse 1. “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” Let me re-read that. “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pilate, and Herod, and Philip, and Lysanias and Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John in the wilderness.”

To us, those names mean nothing. Next to nothing. Just more dead men from long ago and far away. To us, they’re nothing more than a handful of scratches on a page. But to Luke, this is a list of who’s who in ancient Palestine! Of everybody-who’s-anybody in Jesus’ world! These were the rich and famous of the day! The mighty and high! Movers and shakers of the world! Men who held the fate, of the world in their hands! As Luke rattles off the names, he expects us to be overwhelmed, intimidated. They weren’t just the one percent. They were the one percent of the one percent.

And yet. . . and yet, when god speaks, god doesn’t speak to the ones we expect. The word of god. Comes to John. In the wilderness! The word of god comes to a no one! A nothing! Just as the word of god had come to Mary before that! God isn’t interested in the high and mighty! God doesn’t bother with the rich and famous! But like Bonhoeffer reminds us, only the humble believe! Only the helpless! The hopeless! The powerful don’t need a god! They need a savior, even less! They themselves are the ones to whom they look for all good, in which they find refuge in all need! In their own minds, they are god! Their word determines life and death! And whether “god” cares for them or not, isn’t their concern! Tiberius! Pilate! Herod! Philip and all the rest!

God loves the lowly! The overlooked! The forgotten! God isn’t embarrassed by our humanity! God isn’t ashamed of it! In fact, god draws near to it! Loving the lost! The neglected! The unseemly! The excluded! The weak and broken! For Luke, that’s why Jesus came! To bring down the powerful from their thrones. . . and to lift up the lowly! To fill the hungry with good things. . . and to send the rich away empty!

I read those word – the word of god came to John in the wilderness – and I saw god coming to the weak and powerless, to the unimportant and the inconsequential! And I couldn’t help but think about us. About last week’s vote. About the sale of this building, not the church. And I wondered. . . Wondered if god wasn’t preparing us, as god prepared John. To receive the word. In the wilderness. Nothing to confuse. Nothing to distract. Last Sunday, we voted to sell the building – not the church. And I wondered. Did we – for the first time – decide to be what we’ve always been? Did we – for the first time in a long time – decide to be god’s holy, Christian people?

Midland Lutheran Church
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