Advent 2 2007
Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-7,18-19
Romans 15:4-13
Matthew 3:1-12
So, what do you want for Christmas? Something simple like new socks or a new
sweater? Or something a bit more
complicated like a new computer or world peace?
Maybe we could talk about
wanting the right politician saying the things we want to hear…the right leader
stepping forward and winning the
After all, there is only 25 days until caucus time!
The people of
The people following John
around were wanting to find the right leader.
One who would come and overthrow the Roman tyrants. One who would be glorious and brave.
All these folks wanted
peace, prosperity, a better life for themselves.
As do we.
All these folks thought they
could find it in the right king, the
right prophet, the right leader. As do we?
Or are we pretty cynical about that anymore?
So cynical, perhaps, that we
don’t even bother to look. We don’t
even bother to take the time to see, we
don’t even bother to bother with our longings anymore.
For beneath the desire for a
might King, one that Isaiah speaks about,
beneath the desire for a powerful leader, on that John is looking for, beneath the desire for the perfect politican…
Is the desire for
wholeness, peace, hope.
For Advent isn’t about
wanting. Wanting to give and receive the
perfect presents, wanting to have the
perfect family gathering, wanting the
Hallmark holiday…
Advent is about
longing. A deeper emotion than “want”
or “need”
Longing is the desire of the
heart to be made whole.
Longing is the desire of the
heart to be made whole.
What do you really long
for? What is it that will bring true
peace to our lives? What is it that will
bring true hope for the future?
We try so hard to be
fulfilled. We work hard and play hard
and keep so so busy.
We go from one thing to the
next, lives filled with the noise of
expectations, of demands, of our own business.
And yet, and yet,
we come to this place and seek this stillness because we know there is
something more. There is something
outside our selves and our business.
There is something greater than ourselves at work in the world.
We come to this place and in
coming we admit that we long for more than the world can give. We long for more than other humans can
provide us, we long for more meaning
than we can find on tv.
Admitting this can be
painful. Admitting that we can’t do it
ourselves, that we can’t save
ourselves, that we can’t center
ourselves.
We need something greater to
rely on, to trust in, to hang onto.
The images of John are
painful ones. The ax the root of the
tree, the baptism with the Holy Spirit
and with fire….
Even Jesse must be a stump
before the new shoot can grow. Jesse
was the grandson of Boaz and Ruth, the
father of King David. Another King David
was longed for! And all these folks are
in the lineage of Jesus.
But to make room for
Jesus, the field must be cleared. The chaff blown off the wheat, the fire clears the forest.
Painful? Yes.
Admitting our longing means we admit we can’t do it all ourselves, we can’t lift ourselves up, even other human beings can’t fill that space
that needs God.
It can be painful to
acknowledge our deep need for someone/something greater than ourselves. Sometimes it takes time in the wilderness to
get to that point.
Sometimes it takes a dark
night of the soul. Sometimes it just
takes slowing down enough to see the power of God already at work in our
midst.
After all, God comes not with great power and might…but
as a baby born in the dark of the night in an out of the way little town…
The extraordinary cloaked in
the ordinary. The longing of the world
in the cry of a newborn.
The mighty King eating with
sinners, prostitutes, taxcollectors.
Our longing come to light
not in the decorations of the season or the newest version of windows.
But in the humble, human
form of a God who stoops to meet us where we are, as we are. In the wilderness of our lives.
God comes in Advent, to ease our longings with God’s simple
presence and promise of peace.
When we can’t do it
ourselves or solve it ourselves or lift ourselves up…
When the fire has burnt away
the distractions of life, when the chaff
has been blown away leaving only the wheat…
God is at work in our
lives, the cry of a tiny babe fills our
hearts. And then we know peace. Our restless longings can cease and find rest
in God’s presence.
The promise is already being
fulfilled, the new King has already
come, new life is already in our midst.
And we are free to leave the
desires and wants of the world behind…we are free to set aside the business and
distractions.
And here, in this place, if
only for an hour…we admit our longings and are filled with hope.
It is enough. Enough for the moment, enough for the day. Enough to take with us into the world. Enough to share with those we meet. Enough to see that the extraordinary is
found, everyday, in the ordinary things of this life…like bread and wine, water and word, the smile of a stranger and
the hug of a friend.
And the cry of a tiny babe
in the dark night of a Podunk town.
Come, Lord Jesus, see past the appearances and noise of this
world. See into our hearts and come.