Jeremiah 14. 7-10, 19-22
Heroes don’t ride off into the sunset; they come and they stay!
It’s that time of the year, again. On one aisle are ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump. And on the next, Christmas decorations. Lights. Ornaments. Boughs of holly. And it’s only halfway through October. In fact, just two days ago, the Hallmark Channel began its Countdown-to-Christmas. Forty new holiday movies ticking off the days. So, I guess, it’s only fitting to read the passage we did, this morning. Even if Advent is still five weeks away. But maybe it’s not so much jumping the gun, as a heads up!
What I’m talking about are the verses from Jeremiah, chapter fourteen. In particular, verse eight … “O hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble, why should you be like a stranger in the land, like a traveler turning aside for the night?”
Babylon’s at the walls. It’s only a matter of time. Before Jerusalem falls. Before the temple’s destroyed. Before the movers and the shakers are carried off as trophies. But Jeremiah believed! Jeremiah still believed! In spite of it all! Looking to god for all good! Finding refuge in god in all need! Even there! Even then! “O hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble … why should you be like a stranger in the land, like a traveler turning aside for the night?” I read those words. Read them, again. And my mind jumped ahead! Forty movies! Sixty-three shopping days (give or take)! To another verse! Luke! Chapter two! Verse seven! “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”
For generations of kids who endured the annual Christmas pageant, those words have meant only one thing. No vacancy! Too many people; not enough rooms. So, Mary and Joseph settled. They made do with what was available. A place of last resort. Not a palace … or a temple … but a stable! A stall! Silent and holy! Tender and mild! Calm and bright! I remember the year I was Joseph in that play. Mary by my side, we walked down the center aisle. Toward a manger at the front of the congregation. Every other pew, I’d knock on the wood. And a voice at the back of the church would say, “Sorry.” On and on we went. Step by step. Pew by pew. Until we, finally, came to the stable. There was nothing else available.
But the manger was never about lack-of-space. That’s not why. He was born in a stable. Laid in a manger. Because of Jeremiah, chapter fourteen, verse eight. Born in a stable and laid in a manger because it was the only fitting, the only proper place for a deliverer, for a redeemer, to come! “O hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble, why should you be like a stranger in the land, like a traveler turning aside for the night?”
“You should be with us,” says Jeremiah, “You should become one of us!” “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger!” NOT because there was no place for them in the inn. But because the inn was no place for them! Jesus the hope of Israel! The hope of the world! It’s savior in time of trouble! And so, it isn’t right for him to be like a stranger! Appearing like a tourist! Like a traveler! On the way from here to there! Passing through! Just like the heroes we grew up with. Who save the day and, after all is said, all is done, ride off into the sunset. Never to be seen, again. That’s the kind of hero we’ve look for. The kind of hero we’ve come to expect. A stranger in the land. A traveler turning aside for a moment, maybe two. But eventually moving on to another adventure, to another episode. But that’s not the way it is for Jeremiah. And that’s not the way it is for god. When the hero comes, when the savior appears, he’s – or she’s – here for good! Here to stay!
For Jeremiah, we’re the ones going our own way. Proving ourselves. Charting our course. And getting lost in the process. If not lost, misplaced. But god finds us. Searches till we’re found. And at the end, there’s no sunset to ride off into. Instead, god stays. Stays and never, ever lets go. Of course, we’ll wander off, again. And again. And again. That’s what we do. And god does what god always does. Going after us. Over. And over. And over.
The stable wasn’t an accident. The manger wasn’t a mistake. It’s the way god does things. “O hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble, why should you be like a stranger in the land, like a traveler turning aside for the night?” Truth is, that hope, that savior, shouldn’t! Shouldn’t be like a stranger, a traveler. And it’s not that there’s no place for them in the inn. It’s that the inn is no place for them! The inn was no place for him! And so, he was born where god’s people live and move and have their being! In a stable! A manger! Not unplanned! Not unintended! But because that was the only place – the ONLY place – for a savior to appear!
There are only thirty-nine movies left. Thirty-nine movies or a couple months of shopping. And to tell the truth, I don’t expect to change the way children’s pageants will be in the future. I’m sure the ghosts of Christmas futures will imagine Joseph and Mary, pretty much like we do. Walking down the aisle. Knocking on pews. In the end, standing – and sitting – beside a manger at the front of the congregation. All because there wasn’t any other place to be. All because there, simply, wasn’t any room. But I hope – and pray – that as you watch the story unfold, you just might hear Jeremiah whisper. Whisper what, this morning, we spoke out loud. “O hope of Israel, its savior in time of trouble, why should you be like a stranger in the land, like a traveler turning aside for the night?” Because you see, my friends, it isn’t that the inn was full. It’s that the inn was no place for our hope! The inn was no place for our god!