In the Quiet – a Christmas Day sermon

For all the pomp and circumstance of Christmas Eve, I have to think that maybe these quiet Christmas morning services are really what it’s all about.  Like Linus, standing alone in the spotlight, reciting the Christmas story, this morning’s service eschews all the glitz and glamor that has come to be associated with Christmas simply to focus on what is important – what is real.

“For unto us is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”  Amidst the twinkling lights, the torn paper, and the Carpenter’s Christmas album on repeat, this morning we pause to give thanks for a rather inauspicious birth that forever changed the world.  Mary and Joseph were nobody folk from a nowhere town.  They were forced to travel, against their will and despite Mary’s being great with child, in order to be counted in a census that was meant only to add to their tax burden.  They were late to arrive, and left to spend that most important night in a feel stall.  Lo and behold, it was time for the baby to be born.  As Jan Funk so wisely suggested in her Advent Devotion from a week or so ago, last night was anything but quiet.  Birth suites, no matter how finely appointed or carefully named by marketing experts, are still places filled with struggle, pain, noise, and of course, blood, sweat, and tears.

Now, we find ourselves in the morning after.  Mom and Dad, worn out from the long day that is past, are likely doing as little as possible.  Sleep when the baby sleeps, is as good advice now as it would have been back then.  As they try to rest and take stock of what is next for this little bundle of joy that came without an instruction manual, I’m guessing there were long periods of silence, interrupted only by Jesus’ need to eat or the cattle’s desire to move about.  In the silence of this morning’s service, perhaps we can find ourselves in that feed stall, alongside the holy family, in awe of what God is up to in this tiny, fragile, child who, in eight days, will be named Jesus, Hebrew for God saves.

Last night, as the Shepherds watched over their flocks, God entered the world.  In the darkness, on the margins, in the midst of turmoil, God showed up to save the world.  Today, and every day that follows, we are invited to live into that salvation.  We are invited to sit in the quietness of the morning after and to listen for the still small voice of God.  We are welcome to sit beside Mary as she ponders all of what has transpired over the last nine months in her heart.

As we sit with Mary, it seems to me that our reading from Isaiah comes into focus.  As we look upon the newborn child who will grow up to show us the way of justice and righteousness, it would behoove us not to get too lost in the fragility of this baby boy.  Rather, we who know the fullness of the story of Jesus who will be called the Christ, should use this moment of quiet reflection as an opportunity to remember our call as his disciples to be about the work of the Prince of Peace.  In this time of refreshment and renewal, we should be steeling ourselves for another year of working toward the dream of God.  The zeal of the Lord brought our Savior into this world on Christmas night, and that same zeal calls us ever forward, striving ever toward the Kingdom of Heaven, where every human being is treated with dignity and respect, where love never fails, and where joy is freely given to all.  The zeal of the Lord bring with it good news of great joy, my friends, for unto us is born this day, in the city of David, a Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

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Joyful Expectation

Audio and video of this will be available on the Christ Church website.


On the afternoon of April 23, 2017, Dennis Dickey and his pregnant wife journeyed out into the desert near Green Valley, Arizona with some family and friends excited to reveal whether the baby she was carrying was a boy or a girl.  This gender reveal party, and gosh am I glad my girls were born before these became a thing, was going to be unique.  Dennis Dickey was a US Border Patrol agent who used his skills to pack a small package full of a target practice material called tannerite.  From a safe distance away, Dickey shot the small package which exploded with a puff of blue  smoke.  For a moment, there must have been excitement and joy at the thought of welcoming a new baby boy into the family, but that quickly dissipated as the target’s fireball set the surrounding brush ablaze.  In a video made available by the US Forest Service, you can hear the tone quickly change to panic as they pack up their belongings and hit the road.  That small brush fire rapidly spread into the Coronado National Forest, and became known as the Sawmill Fire, burning almost forty-seven thousand acres.   For almost a week, firefighters from some 20 agencies fought the fire, which caused more than eight million dollars in damage.[1]  This September, Dennis Dickey plead guilty to a misdemeanor, was sentenced to five years’ probation, and has to pay almost $8.2 million in restitution.  So much for the joyful moment of expectation.

To me, Advent 1 kind of feels like that gender reveal party that went terribly wrong.  The whole world outside these walls is decorated for Christmas.  Trees, lights, and pictures with Santa, the season of joy and giving is upon us.  Yet, here in church on Sunday morning, we’re stuck listening to Jesus, once again, predicting the end of the world and warning of signs in the heavens, distress among the nations, and people literally fainting from fear and foreboding of what is to come.  As Becca said when we heard an almost identical lesson from Mark two weeks ago, where is the good news?  Where’s the hope?  Where’s the joy?  After another week of wars and rumors of wars, images of children running away from tear gas grenades, and an innocent black man who was the proverbial good guy with a gun being killed by police, can’t we just put up a tree, sing Joy to the World, click our heels together, and wish our way to Christmas?

Unfortunately, we cannot.  We are called to wait.  When Jesus told the crowd that “this generation” would not pass away before all these things came to pass, he wasn’t so much talking about the generation of Peter, Mary Magdalene, Nathaniel, and Salome.  The Greek is more generic than simply meaning a 20-year period in which people are born.  This generation is an epoch, an era, or a season.  We are stuck here because here is where God is.  In the muck and mire, in the time in-between Jesus’ first coming – his incarnation, birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension – and his second coming in a cloud with power and great glory to, as Billy reminded us last week, restore all things to their perfect state in God.  What defines this generation is our call to wait, not as idle observers, but as participants in the preparation: co-creators of the Kingdom of God.

Important things in life take time to plan, prepare, and bring to fruition.  Rome was not built in a day, and neither is Thanksgiving dinner.  It requires us to make a menu, develop a grocery list, and to know how long things take to cook.  You can’t pull a turkey out of the freezer at 9am on Thanksgiving Day and expect to sit down to a feast at 2.  The important things in life almost always take time, and then they are over in mere minutes.  Christmas takes at least a month of planning, shopping, and wrapping, and by 8am, the bags are filled with ripped paper and everybody is ready for a nap.  So too with the Kingdom of God.  Its arrival isn’t something that happens overnight.  Its preparation has taken two-thousand years.  It could take twenty-thousand more.

In the meantime, this generation, of which we are called to be a part, is one of waiting and preparation.  We are invited by Jesus to join with God in building the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven.  “When you see these things begin to take place,” Jesus says, “stand up, and raise your hands.”  In the 2,000 or so years since Jesus said these words, there hasn’t been a time without war, famine, fear, and foreboding.  If one were watching out the window for the signs of the times, it might always look like Jesus is getting ready to hop on that cloud and enter with power and might.  Many have been made to shrink in fear that the end is nigh, but that’s not what Jesus calls us to.

Disciples of Jesus are not able to sit idly by, fearfully waiting for the day of judgment.  Disciples of Jesus are called to lives of loving service while we wait.  We are called to avoid the causal anesthetics of this life.  Jesus calls them dissipation and drunkenness.  We might call them iPhones, Facebook arguments, cable news, or retail therapy.  Jesus warns us not to get so caught up in the here and now, be it the evil that we see around us, or the pacifiers we use to numb our fear-filled minds, that we lose sight of the bigger plan of restoration, renewal, and redemption.  It is easy to become numb to the bigger picture when all we see on a day-to-day basis are the painful realities of sin, but to get caught in the cycle of anger and fear or to allow ourselves to get drunk on groupthink and the comfort of being right is to lose focus on the signs that point to something larger, something more hopeful.

Just as the signs that Jesus talked about: wars, fear, and distress; have been around since the beginning, there have also always been signs of hope.  Even when things seem to be at their worst, we see people caring for those in need through acts of compassion and charity, strangers willing to love their unknown neighbor as themselves.  To borrow from Jesus’ metaphor, the fig tree has been coming into leaf for quite some time.  The Kingdom of God, even in our most godforsaken moments, is near at hand.  It has broken in through the birth of our Savior on Christmas and it will come to full fruit when Jesus returns with power and might.  In the meantime, as we long for moments of joy and hope amidst what can feel like the brushfire of everyday life, we are invited by Jesus to stand up, raise up our heads, roll up our sleeves, and get about the work of God: restoring all of humanity to right relationship with God and one another.  Are we willing to do that work? Will we be able to see that the great revealing that will take place isn’t meant to harm and destroy, but rather, to build and to restore?  Be on guard.  Be alert.  Get to work.  As we prepare for the coming of Christ, both as an infant born of Mary and as the King of kings on judgment day, we are invited to a season of joyful expectation, of hope for the future, and of God’s great gift for the world.  Amen.

[1] https://www.cnn.com/2018/11/27/us/arizona-gender-reveal-party-sawmill-wildfire-trnd/index.html

God looks us in the eye and says, “I love you.”

Today’s sermon can be heard on the Christ Church website, or read here.


There is something vitally important about being looked in the eye.  We’ve all been in those conversations where it feels like the other person can’t wait to get away from you.  While they may be talking in your general direction, their eyes are scanning the room, searching for an escape route or perhaps someone more important to talk to.  It can be disheartening to be talking to someone while they look around for anything else to do.  In my pastoral care training, they shared with us that the most overlooked people in the hallways of hospitals are the patients.  Rolling around in wheelchairs and on gurneys, their eyes are well below the eyeline of others walking the halls.  While any number of people may say hello to the person pushing a patient down the hall, very rarely does the patient actually get acknowledged.

The same is true of children.  The world seems to exist above their heads, literally and figuratively, as adults discuss things three feet higher than they are.  I was reminded of this over this past week after Lainey received a pretend ice cream and hot dog stand for Christmas.  The stand has an awning at the top, that is maybe three feet off the ground, so when I approached it to order a delicious ice cream sandwich, I found myself talking to the awning rather than the eager five-year-old who was ready to take my order.  It is only when I crouch down to her level that she and I can really enjoy the experience.  Over this past week, we must have played ice-cream-hot-dog cart a hundred times, and everybody got in on the action.  I noticed the power of making eye contact especially when my sister engaged Shopkeeper Lainey.  Lisa is a special education administrator in Philadelphia.  For more than a decade now, she has been dealing with children who are often overlooked.  As Lisa crouched down to buy another Philly soft pretzel from Lainey’s Snack Stand, I could see that this was her standard posture.  While most of us looked around for something to sit on, Lisa was perfectly comfortable crouching down to look a child in the eye, making Lainey feel special, loved, and cared for.

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I can’t help but see my sister crouching down to engage a child with special needs when I read the Prologue to John’s Gospel.  The language is certainly lofty, but the story it conveys is earthy and raw.  It is the story of how the God of all Creation stooped down to look humanity in the eye and share with us that we are special, loved, and cared for.  The story begins when all that existed was God.  In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.  God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were in a perfect relationship of love with one another.  The Word was with God and the Word was God, and as God spoke, the Word went forth and created.  The Word created the sun, moon, and stars, the earth and all that walks, creeps, and crawls upon it, the ocean and all that swims therein.  Finally, from the voice of God the Word created humanity, and the Breath gave us life, and the Triune God looked upon all that Creator, Word, and Breath had made and declared it very good.

From then on, God could have stayed far away and simply watched creation like a science experiment, but God didn’t do that.  God loves creation too much to leave us to our own devices, and so, throughout history, God has intervened in the hopes of keeping us in right relationship with God and with one another.  Through Abraham, he made a covenant that God would bless the whole earth.  Through Moses, he gave the law, by which we were to live in peace with one another.  Again and again, we failed to maintain those perfect relationships.  Again and again, we fell into sin.  Again and again, we proved that we needed extra help.  Through the prophets, God called us to return, but in time, it became clear that God was speaking above our heads.  The only way God could really get our attention was by crouching down, looking humanity in the eye, and saying, beyond the shadow of a doubt, “I love you.”  And so, in the fullness of time, the Word who is the light of the world, took on flesh and lived among us.  In his translation of the Bible called The Message, Eugene Peterson puts this powerful verse like this, “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.”  The good news of Christmas is that God’s very self was born for us. God took on flesh to live as one of us. He entered the messiness of this world, to the point of being born in a barn and laid in a feed trough. God didn’t stand aside, watching creation uncreate itself through the screen of his divine iPad. Instead, God stooped down from heaven and moved into the neighborhood so that he could look us in the eye and affirm that we are loved beyond all measure.

Over the course of our new liturgical year, we’ll journey through Mark’s Gospel and find out what it means for the Divine to stoop down to engage humanity face-to-face; for the Word that John speaks of in such lofty language to move into the neighborhood. In his haste to bring us the Good News, Mark will make us run through the details of Jesus’ life.  He will carefully focus our attention on Jesus’ ministry of service, beginning with Jesus being baptized by his cousin John in the Jordan River and being declared as “beloved Son” by both a voice from heaven and the descending of the Spirit as a dove. Many miraculous events will follow: he will drive out evil spirits, heal the sick, give sight to the blind, make the paralyzed to stand up and walk, and even raise the dead to new life.  By way of several parables, Jesus will teach us what it means to live in the Kingdom of God.  Over the course of his active ministry, Jesus will have no place to lay his head, and yet, out of an abundance of compassion, he will feed thousands upon thousands with scarce resources. He’ll find comfort in friends, be anointed by a stranger, terrorized by enemies, and tempted by the devil. Finally, he’ll be handed over by a traitor, spit upon by his enemies, tried by a coward, and killed at the hand of Rome, only to rise again on the third day. Jesus, the Word of God who took on flesh and blood, will not stand idly by while real life goes on around him, but instead he will experience the roller coaster nature of human life, taking it all into himself, redeeming the good and bad, highs and lows, joys and sorrows.

As we heard on Christmas Eve, to us is born a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This is the Good News of Mega Joy of Christmas. God, who could have very easily sat back and watched as the creation he spoke into being destroy itself by selfishness and jealousy, instead came to earth and lived and died as one of us so that we might know how much God loves us.  Two thousand years later, the Incarnation still means that God is present in our joys and in our sorrows. God is present as we come to the end of 2017, whether we think back on it with fondness, or hope to forget it ever happened. God is present as we prepare for what 2018 has to offer, whether it is the joy of a child or grandchild, the promise of a new career, or the cold diagnosis of disease. God is present in the joy-filled songs at 10 o’clock and in the simple recitation of the liturgy at 8am. God is present in traffic on Scottsville Road, in the waiting room, in the shopping mall, and in school. No matter where we are or what we are feeling, the good news of Christmas is that God moved into the neighborhood in order to look humanity in the eye, to look you in the eye, and make sure you know that you are special, you are cared for, and God loves you.  Amen.

The Mega Joy of Christmas – a sermon

You can listen to the audio on the Christ Church website, or read it here.

Merry Christmas!


​        I’m not sure there is anything that Saint Luke can’t do. He might be history’s first renaissance man. He was a physician, a theologian, an evangelist, and at times, a historian. Above all else, however, Luke was a storyteller: one of the best storytellers the world has ever known, and his skill is on full display in tonight’s Gospel lesson, the greatest story ever told.

Luke begins the Christmas story the way so many great stories begin, with political intrigue.  The powers-that-be in Rome had decided that it was once again time to raise taxes beyond their already crippling rate, and so they called for a census. Now, the Romans were as ruthless as they were smart. They knew that the best way to show their might it to treat people like they were nothing, and so, they put the onus of the census on their subjects, moving them around like pawns at their whim.  Every man was required to close his business, pack up his family, and travel to his ancestral hometown.  For Joseph, this meant he and his nine-months-pregnant wife, Mary, had to embark on an 80-mile journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem.  Under the best circumstances, this would have been a four-day trek.  Heaven only knows how long it would take with Mary great with child.

From political intrigue, Luke transitions to family drama.  As Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem, word of Mary’s… condition… had preceded them.  Joseph’s kinfolk had done the math.  Mary is way too pregnant for how long they’ve been married.  One door after another is shut in Joseph’s face.  “Sorry, there is no room for you here.”  It was late, and Mary was beginning to feel the impending reality.  The baby is coming, and family dynamics or not, Mary needed a place to lie down so that she could have the baby in safety, and she needed to find it quickly.  Desperate, Joseph tried one last place, the inn on the edge of town.  This too was a non-starter, but out back, there was a barn.  It wasn’t much, but it would protect the young mother and her child from the elements.

Wisely, Luke skips over the details of the birth, but soon enough, we are witnesses to the child that Gabriel promised would be called the Son of the Most High who will reign over the house of Jacob forever.  Suddenly, the scene shifts, and we find ourselves well out of town with some shepherds gathered around an evening fire.  We might have quaint images of children in shepherd costumes tending their flocks by night, but Luke certainly did not.  In the first century, shepherds were universally despised; a necessary evil in a world that was still transitioning away from nomadic farming.  They were hired hands, sent off into the wilderness to tend the sheep of rich cattle owners.  They didn’t count as people, so they didn’t have to make the journey to their ancestral homes to be counted in the census.  Out for months at a time, doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where, shepherds were considered so unclean that most towns had laws forbidding them from entering the city gates.  It was a well-established belief that shepherds were dishonest cheats.  Way out there, nobody could know how many lambs were born each spring, and so, maybe they sold a few lambs each season to line their own pockets.[1]  Shepherds were considered so deceitful that they were not allowed to testify in court.

It is way out there, with the smelly, untrustworthy, not-even-qualified-to-be-called-a-person shepherds, that the Good News of Jesus’ birth is first made known.  Now, if you had been told your whole adult life that you were of no value and that God couldn’t even love you, when the darkness of the night was suddenly torn open with heavenly glory and an angel looked you square in the eyes, the proper response would certainly be one of fear.  Some might say terrified, but I prefer the King James Translation.  “They were sore afraid.”  This fear was something beyond what you might experience on the Tower of Terror ride at Hollywood Studios or the fear some might feel walking around the Nave all alone, late at night.  In the Greek, Luke, the great storyteller, writes that the shepherds “epho-batha-san phobon megan,” they “feared a mega fear.”

The angel, knowing as angels always do that a human’s initial reaction to them will be fear, quickly tries to calm the situation.  “Fear not!” the angel says, “for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”  Again, turning to the Greek, we see the beauty of Luke’s storytelling skills, the angels tells the shepherds “euanggelion umin caran megalen,” literally, “I bring you good news of mega joy!”  God steps into the depths of mega fear, appearing to a crowd of shepherds who had been convinced they were worthless liars, and shares with them the good news of mega joy that on this night, in the city of David is born a Savior who is Christ the Lord.  It is to those who were never to be trusted that God entrusted the Good News.

Like I said, Luke is a phenomenal storyteller, but his greatest gift is including each of us in the story.  The good news of mega joy is given to the shepherds, but it is intended to be shared with all people, which, in case you were unsure, definitely includes you and me.  The unbelievable witnesses will tell the unbelievable story of God’s unbelievable love for all of humanity.  There is something comforting about all that disbelief.  It makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I might be qualified to tell the story.  It makes me sure that you too have what it takes to spread the Good News of great joy for all the people.  And so, tonight, despite whatever else we might have going on in our lives: no matter how mega the fear might be, how profound the sadness, how stressful the situation, we join with two thousand years of Christians in hearing the words of the angel, “Fear Not!”  And maybe, even just for a moment, we allow the mega joy to take hold, and join our voices to the heavenly chorus, shepherds, apostles, prophets, and martyrs in singing, “Glory to God in the highest!”  We join with two thousand years of Christians who have given thanks for the good news of mega joy that Jesus was born to give us hope and courage in the face of fear and sadness.

Luke’s ability to include us in this amazing story is what keeps Christmas relevant in a world that is increasingly suspicious of the religion that follows Jesus.  Seeking out hope in the midst of fear is something we can all understand, something we all desire. There is something universal about trying to set aside the frustrations of everyday life in order to have 24 hours of uninterrupted joy.  Christmas is the one time each year where everybody gets the chance to smile in the face of a thousand things that would cause you to frown.  To quote my favorite Christmas movie, “That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”  Not gifts or lights or food or family, but the good news of mega joy that God so loved the world that he sent his only Son into a world full of mega fear to save it.

Luke’s great story continues, with the shepherds running off to find the baby, and when they saw him, just as the angels had told them, they returned to the fields, with hearts full of joy, praising and glorifying God as they went.  Let’s follow in their example.  Christmas is here, my friends.  Thanks be to God!  Now, let’s get to celebrating the good news of mega joy for all people: Jesus Christ is born!  Amen.

[1] Thanks Frank Logue http://aplm2013.blogspot.ca/2013/12/preachers-study-christmas-2013.html

Merry Christmas

With Advent 4 and Christmas Eve falling on the same day this year, there isn’t much time to switch gears.  This is true in the life of the parish.  The greenery is already hung, candles are in the windows, and the remote control for the battery powered pillars has been located.  It is beginning to look a lot like Christmas, but only beginning.  The poinsettias and magnolia won’t show up until after the morning services are complete.  The Christ candle, lit twice this season in celebration of the Resurrection of the Dead, won’t get lit until Sunday night.  The decorations have only begun, but we know there won’t be much time to make the transition.  The same it true for preachers.  I’m grateful for the blessing of a staff.  This means that unlike many of my colleagues, I won’t be preaching Advent IV in the morning, Christmas Eve that night, and Christmas Day early the next morning.  While this blog has been focused on Advent IV, my exegetical life has been already focused on Christmas Eve.  This also means there isn’t much time to make the switch here either.  So, with apologies to the Advent Police, today, with the O Antiphons still on our lips, I take a moment to consider the joy that comes on Christmas.

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It seems that every Christmas, my interest is drawn to the same place.  Having twice been in a labor and delivery room, I’m not real interested in hanging out with Mary and her midwife for the delivery of the Christ child.  Instead, since it isn’t my child, I’ll act like a 1950s dad and hang out on the greens.  I’m always glad for the shepherds in the Christmas story.  I’m grateful that it is to them that the Good News of Great Joy is first delivered.  There, out on the margins, is where the heavenly hosts arrive to sing praise to the God of our salvation.

Nobody liked shepherds.  They were a necessary evil in a world still transitioning from nomadic farming.  They were smelly and suspect in character.  They were not to be trusted, and yet, it is to them that the Good News has been entrusted.  The unbelievable witnesses will tell the unbelievable story of God’s unbelievable love for all of humanity.  There is something comforting about all that disbelief.  It makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I too might be qualified to tell the story.  It makes me sure that you, dear reader, have what it takes to spread the Good News of Great Joy for all the people.

As you make the quick transition from Advent to Christmas this year, my prayers are with you.  May God bless you with the words necessary to share the unbelievable joy that comes in a manger on the outskirts of Bethlehem.  Merry Christmas, dear reader, I will see you in the new year.

The importance of proclamation

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I wish there was a YouTube video I could share with you, but as of yet, there is not.  You’ll have to just trust me that the Betty Carr Pulkingham setting of the Mary’s Magnificat is legit and that if your congregation isn’t singing Mary’s Song this week, your worship will be sorely lacking.  If you have a hymnal handy, you should pull it out and open it to S247.  If you do, you’ll not that Pulkingham uses the opening verse of Mary’s famous hymn of joyful hope as an antiphon, which is just a fancy church word for a refrain.  It is set as a canon in two parts.  The way the setting is written, there is a certain highlight on the opening words of Mary in the ICET translation of the original Greek text.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.

The focus of Pulkingham’s antiphon is on Mary’s proclamation, which is interesting, given that the title Magnificat is Latin for the Greek word that Luke’s gives Mary’s Song, that is better translated at “magnify.”  I haven’t been able to locate the ICET’s working documents on the Magnificat translation, so I cannot be sure why they made the switch from magnify to proclaim, but I’m certain they didn’t do it without careful consideration.

While I take great delight in the old version, “My soul doth magnify the Lord,” there seems to be something important about this newer version’s attention to proclamation.  Mary’s intent, it seems, isn’t simply to shine a light on the greatness of God so that she and Elizabeth can experience it, but rather, her ministry as the God bearer is to show forth the greatness of God for all the world to see.  By proclaiming that God has looked with favor on an unwed mother and that God is already in the process of turning the world upside down: casting down the mighty, scattering the proud, lifting up the lowly, and filling the hungry with good things; Mary is shouting from the rooftops the Good News that will come to completion in the life, death, and resurrection of her Son.

As we read and/or sing the Song of Mary this Sunday, mere hours before we light the Christ candle and rejoice in the birth of our Lord and King, it might be worthwhile to spend a few moments pondering the importance of proclamation, both in Mary’s Magnificat and in our own lives as disciples of the soon-to-be newborn King.

Thankfulness Doublecheck

When State Farm signed Aaron Rodgers to be a celebrity endorser, they brought along his touchdown celebration as well.  Rodgers was known to do a championship-belt-wrestler-type move which is now better known for the Discount Doublecheck than it is for the star quarterback’s touchdown dance.  They even did a humorous spoof on his confusion for one of their 30 second ads.

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While I am not a State Farm customer, I do appreciate the doublecheck idea as the downhill slide toward Christmas begins.  With mere hours between Advent 4 and Christmas Eve, Advent 2 means you best be on the ball when it comes to Christmas preparations.  In the world, that means gifts should be purchased, cards mailed, parties planned, and above all, money must be spent.  In the church it means bulletins should be prepared, special music practiced, pageants rehearsed, and above all, money must be spent.  Unfortunately, the differences between how the world and the church celebrate Christmas can be difficult to discern.  The number of faithful Christians who flock to Black Friday sales on the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day are a clear indicator of that.

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Must spend money!!!!

This is why I’m digging the idea of a thankfulness doublecheck as we begin preparations for Advent 3.  In what seems like an oddly timed lesson from 1 Thessalonians, Paul admonishes his readers, and, by extension, us, to “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”  In the midst of a season predicated on spending money to buy stuff that people don’t need and likely don’t even want, this advice should catch us short.  Advent 3 is a time for a thankfulness doublecheck.

Am I so caught up in the Christmas Industrial Complex that I have forgotten to find joy in the gifts that God has given me?  Am I so busy running around like a chicken with my head cut off getting all my secular plans in place that I’ve forgotten to pray today?  Am I so obsessed with more that I am incapable of being thankful for what I already have?

I’m not trying to be a Scrooge about Christmas, just inviting us to gain some perspective on what this season has become for many.  Rather than it being about stress and debt, Paul invites us to make this Christmas about joy, prayer, and thanksgiving.  Today seems like as good a day as any for a Thanksgiving Doublecheck.  Won’t you join me?