Three Kings & a Baby

The story is famous.

But, those Kings, did they really show up the same night of Jesus’ birth?
Why only three of them? Or was there really more?
Who were they?
Where did they travel from?

And, they were traveling from afar, according to the infamous hymn–so that must take a really long time to travel thousands of miles, on camels (or on foot, ouch!). So  when they saw the star, it might take some time to get there, right?

Let’s read the story of their arrival, according to the Gospel of Matthew 2:1-12:

2 In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men^[a] from the East came to Jerusalem, ² asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising,^[b] and have come to pay him homage.” ³ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; ⁴ and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah^[c] was to be born.⁵ They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

⁶ ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd^[d] my people Israel.’”

⁷ Then Herod secretly called for the wise men^[e] and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. ⁸ Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” ⁹ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising,^[f] until it stopped over the place where the child was.¹⁰ When they saw that the star had stopped,^[g] they were overwhelmed with joy. ¹¹ On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. ¹² And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Let’s first consider all the players involved.

Imagine some intriguing people, with perhaps large entourages, showing up in Jerusalem, asking about the location of a newborn “king of the Jews”, and a star that had led the way.

Well, it indeed got attention–the not good kind. Just enough to lead the fearful to King Herod himself, who was very interested, for obvious reasons. But Matthew’s overt critique of Jerusalem unilaterally puts the Jews and Jerusalem in with King Herod and Rome.  Yikes?

Herod connects the Magi’s quest to the Christ. So knowing who the Magi seek, Herod needs now the whereabouts of this Christ, asking his priest buddies those details on the obviously well-known prophesy.

So the delicately imagined Nativity becomes so much more.

Long before Jesus, the man, ever utters “the kingdom of God is at hand”, Jesus, the infant, has turned upside down several man-made kingdoms. And he hasn’t even said a word yet.

So this story of the Magi tells of a Savior that had come, for the entire world. Not just the kings. Not just the astronomers. Not just the shepherds.  And not just the Jews.

He came, for the entire world, to see him, to hear his voice, feel his healing touch, and to be made whole again.

But first they came to see him. And give him gifts.

Have you seen him?

Advent 3: Waiting well?

The service was over and a line of folks waited patiently to thank me. It still surprises me that folks take the time to thank me for preaching. Like any preacher, I get nervous and I go to my neutral sometimes (theater training and all–“fake it till you make it” does NOT work well in preaching!). But each time I get a little bit better.

So there I was shaking hands and smiling. I was content to just receive their words. Then a sweet woman gently whispered to me, “Your sermon sounded like it could be in a book. You should compile your sermons into a book.”

I was thrown off. Preparing a sermon, I consider every angle–historical, contextual, linguistic, and then I dive into wrestling out, with God’s help, a way to make it applicable and relevant to today.

I never once thought this sermon book-worthy. And then I heard the whisper again–that voice that stays with me, “See, you are a writer and you don’t even see it. So I’ll just keep reminding you.”

Anyway, I thought it through and resolved to post the sermon here. Maybe it is book-worthy, but I’ll start with the blog.

Enjoy,

Heather

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How well do we wait? I mean, really, to just wait for whatever it is we’re waiting for.

• A phone call from the doctor about an ambiguous test result.
• A text from your teenager, 15 minutes after curfew.
• An email reply from the boss about a sticky issue with a co-worker.
• A conversation with your spouse after getting a note that says “we need to talk tonight.”

How well do we wait?

The answer surprises me because we might know better, given this is Advent. This is like the Piez de la resistance of “waiting”.

But if we get gut-level honest with ourselves—we don’t like waiting. We get anxious, nervous, wrestling with emotion, and probably just trying to keep busy.

For there seems much to be anxious about.

The world out there—news headlines of terrorism and shootings—and then there’s our inner being “in here” where struggles live—relationships, illness, pain, grief, jobs worries, and on and on…

Because there seems much to be anxious about, right?

Yet this is Advent. Calling us to Hope. Pursue peace.

Wait well?

Because when the faith-filled fires of hope and peace aren’t as easy to keep lit as they once were. When “out there” begins to invade “in here”, we want answers. Answers to help us heal—to re-fill us—to find perspective, to re-gain balance, to wait well.

And then we arrive at Advent 3—where even the PINK COLOR of the candle seems astonishing, perhaps ridiculous.

PINK, of all colors. Imagine PINK frontals, Fr. Rob all decked out in PINK. It is this ridiculous PINK that seems to want to sweet-talk us into living with joy.

Living with JOY? Waiting with JOY? What could it be like to wait with JOY?

The waiting ITSELF seems to produce anxiety! I just want someone to come and fix it for me, tell me, “What should I do?!”

Maybe that’s not the problem.

It is our struggle with sin. This thing in us that drives us to worry, to anxiety, to fretting, to desperately wanting a fix. Even judgment, or blaming, hiding my own flaws, because maybe, just maybe, I like my sin.

And the crowds came to old, weird, John out of self-interest.

John sees them, he knows them and he tells them so without judgment, without THIS *fingerpointing*. And so, the momentum of the moment transforms—the tone of the scene changes.

And the crowd asks—what should we do?

Be kind. Share with each other.

The tax collectors—the loan sharks of the day—ask, “what should WE do?”.

Be kind. Don’t steal from others.

The soldiers—the paid mercenaries—ask, “What should we do?”

Be kind. Don’t bully others.

What about us, today? What question would we have for John?

We might ask. “What do we do to live through this? (to survive this?)”  Head down, eyes closed, lead us out of the darkness to a safe place.

And John’s begs us to consider, “how might we live in this?” Head up, eyes open, the tougher task of waiting in the darkness, in the pain, in the struggle, in the frustration.

To be kind is to be present to be with people—wherever they are, wherever we are.

I sat with a friend, whose marriage was in the throes of bitter division. And I was just listening, neither trying to fix nor make her feel happier; it was hard, but I simply was with her, in her pain. And somehow just my being there, to her, meant everything.

Or even when 12 year old, very talkative daughter wants to tell the same story about a friend at school—for the 200^th time that day—and I know the ending by heart. Practicing kindness—being with her, in her story. Because, to her, that story means everything.

Kindness may seems naïve and simplistic, but it’s just hard. We are weary and overwhelmed and tired.

“Being KIND requires a lot of me! Can’t I just get the five step process to fix this? What DO I do?”

John sees us, knows us and tells us by pulling out, not a sword, but a brightly lit PINK candle. Be kind.

Kindness is not warm fuzzies, fake smiles and a friendly “hi there” at the church potluck.

Kindness is seeing a viper (fill in the name of the difficult person in your life) and loving them anyway.

Kindness is sharing our stuff with people.

Kindness is being careful how we speak to people.

Kindness is letting someone else go first.

Kindness is seeing people as people, with dreams, fears, hopes and hurts. Kindness is being with people in their stories.

John’s practice of kindness is a blinking neon sign that points to the answer. Jesus Christ.

Maya Angelou wrote, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

SO this Advent, seek joy in hardship.

Wait–here and now—in the tension of our sin, in the struggle of anxiety and worry, in a broken, desperate world, then pick up that PINK CANDLE and light it.

Light it trusting that the journey of Advent is not over—that we are heading toward the biggest, brightest candle of all—the Christ candle.

For the answer has been, is now and always will be Christ. The source of hope, peace and, yes, joy.

Amen.

Love is all you need? 1 Corinthians 12-13

I think that statement depends on how we each define “love”.

I mean, in our culture, love is a very broad definition and has an even broader usage in the English language.

I love my husband.

I love cats.

I love my job.

I love chick fil a waffle fries.

I love that vase.

I love God.

I love that hair color.

I love people.

We love objects, and we use “love” to identify the objects value for us.

We love human beings, and we use “love” to identify their value to us as well.

The problem is that sometimes we forget that the humans we love aren’t objects designed for our benefit.

To love humans, we may need to remember that human love has limitations. Why? Because we tend to make people objects to fill voids in our emotional lives.

When I first got married, I wrongly idealized marriage on an emotional level. I expected my husband would make ME happy. Affirm me. Agree with me. Rescue me. Do for me. Talk to me. Meet my needs. Read my mind.  Which word is repeated there? Yeah, “me, mine and my”.  So human love is very ego-centrally focused. It’s all about me!

But here’s how my marriage works in real life. I spend an inordinate amount of time adjusting my expectations of another human being, who has his own opinions, desires, thoughts and needs.  He does not exist for me. He exists because God created him. And God continues to see fit to help me and him, and every other human, learn that loving each other, and all those other people, requires a different kind of love.

Enter our text today: 1 Corinthians 12:27-13:3

²⁷ Now you are Christ’s body, and individually members of it. ²⁸ And God has^[a]appointed in the church, first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then^[b]miracles, then gifts of healings, helps, administrations, various kinds of tongues. ²⁹ All are not apostles, are they? All are not prophets, are they? All are not teachers, are they? All are not workers of ^[c]miracles, are they? ³⁰ All do not have gifts of healings, do they? All do not speak with tongues, do they? All do not interpret, do they? ³¹ But earnestly desire the greater gifts.

And I show you a still more excellent way.

13 If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. ² If I have the gift ofprophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ³ And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body ^[d]to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.

Okay.  I love Paul’s directness. He knows humans are egocentric. So he’s hoping to help this church in Corinth.  He goes on to describe love in chp 13, but I want to stay here.

I hear this saying:  it doesn’t matter how awesome you think you are,  even if you do super cool stuff. What matters is how you see people.  Objects or humans created by God, bearing the image of God?

This requires divine love.

Divine love does not require defending itself, justifying its existence, or declaring its power. Divine love doesn’t need to prove itself by making you feel accepted, or valued. Divine love doesn’t have to blame, scapegoat or point fingers. Divine love doesn’t need to prove itself to others. Divine love is Divine, perfect.  And God has given us a way to love one another, in Christ.

Human love has all of the above needs and more.

I’m choosing divine love.

Demons & Pigs (A reflection on Matthew 8:28-34)

There is a song that plays on the radio sometimes. The first few verses follow:

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale
I wanna hide the truth
I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside
There’s nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

The song is almost too raw. I mean do I really want to acknowledge my failures, or the failures of those who I have looked up to? I mean those people who had it all together, or at least I thought they did. But they didn’t. They failed too. Some grander than others. And then I know deep down the truth of this song–demons prefer to be hidden. It’s where they do the worst work. 

I am in a phase of life, nearing the end of my 43rd year, when I am growing into my weaknesses and strengths. This whole vulnerable thing is honestly whipping me. 

Most often in my life, I’ve run hot or cold, or mediocre warm. 

An old country song tape begins in my head, “My give a d*** got broke!” It’s so much easier, that little girl thinks, just to climb into a corner, away from the world, lick her wounds and play Coldplay for hours. But then this too is not the answer, she knows. She’s done that before, and it didn’t work then so I hear Dr. Phil’s voice in my head too (a child of our culture, right?), “How’s that working for ya?”  So the victim, who licks her wounds, declaring the world is against her–she’s inside me.

 

Or in the heated moments, I am astonished to see the kind of horrible person I can become. I have witnessed her. She is dangerous. Her tongue can slice a person in half, if given an millimeter of opening. She learned that from her upbringing; a household filled with verbal debates that trained a young child that the way of winning in this world is to be the loudest and the rightest. Exaggeration is fair. The more dramatic it sounds, even better.  And with a proper facial expression you can quiet a room. It’s all in delivery; words can cut when they’re properly sharpened. Words are far worse than actions sometimes; only sometimes though. Because honestly that actions of others is what trained me to hide behind this girl; the times I was ignored, set aside, or simply left to my own devices.  But that horrible loudmouth, demanding truth despite the cost, wants to be the winner, “don’t you dare say I’m weak”, girl–yeah, she’s inside me too.

But the worst moments, are in mediocre warmth, when I desperately want to be valued, to be seen as okay enough. That’s when the fake girl shows up. Pretending. Acting like she’s impervious to pain. She’s suddenly someone else. She’ll do whatever it takes to keep control of the situation. To appease. To rescue. To make the situation better. She’s inside me too. I really don’t like her. But she’s inside me too. 

These are my demons inside. Their nourishment? Shame. (Brene Brown nails it again and again!)

I’ve identified all of those “me’s” with the help of a darn good therapist and some circumstances that have happened (I call them Divine Intersections) to help me apply my learning. 

Therapist calls it “reparative work”. I call it being punched in the stomach, over and over. Whoever tells you that therapy is about encouragement is only telling you half the story; it’s tough, internal work. 

It’s like every coping mechanism I learned to survive this time on planet earth (the three “me’s” I shared above) was being deconstructed. And well coping mechanisms are cool; our brains learn how to feel better by leaning too far into those roles. 

Therapist called it the triangle.  And I needed to get out of mine. 

 

Enter today’s reading from Matthew 8:28-34: (this version is from the paraphrase, The Message)

 

The Madmen and the Pigs

They landed in the country of the Gadarenes and were met by two madmen, victims of demons, coming out of the cemetery. The men had terrorized the region for so long that no one considered it safe to walk down that stretch of road anymore. 

Seeing Jesus, the madmen screamed out, “What business do you have giving us a hard time? You’re the Son of God! You weren’t supposed to show up here yet!” 

Off in the distance a herd of pigs was browsing and rooting. The evil spirits begged Jesus, “If you kick us out of these men, let us live in the pigs.”

Jesus said, “Go ahead, but get out of here!” Crazed, the pigs stampeded over a cliff into the sea and drowned. Scared to death, the swineherds bolted. They told everyone back in town what had happened to the madmen and the pigs. Those who heard about it were angry about the drowned pigs. 

A mob formed and demanded that Jesus get out and not come back.

I love Eugene Peterson’s translation of the “madmen” being “victims of demons”.  In many ways, I was unable to travel into the deepest parts of me–the true me–because of the demons. Yet, I also supported their existence, in the sense that I never really knew they were there. Demons hide, remember? 

 

Until Jesus. And then the story shifts. The demons recognize Jesus–and know exactly who he is. And the weirdest part of the story for me is the “pigs”.  I mean, what did those pigs do to you, demons? And Jesus, for real?! You’re going to let them go into the pigs?!

 

But here’s the irony for me. The madmen had survived with these demons. Had lived. Had also been a great harm to the people around them because of these demons. The pigs chose to go over the cliff, rather than live with that version of crazy. 

 

This is not saying that we should all go over cliffs because of our crazy. Not what I’m saying. 

But it seems to be that we live with demons that Jesus simply did not come to earth, live amongst us and die on the cross, and then be resurrected for us to have! Jesus came, lived and died so that we would have life. 

Jesus invites you and I to consider another way. And he provides Divine opportunities to look within and begin to navigate through the brokenness and shame of our souls.

 

So my triangle–the three me’s inside of me. They’re still there. But what’s different is that the demon of shame is being dealt with. Like Brene Brown says, shame hates being called out. So I’m calling it out.

 

By living wholehearted. By living vulnerable.