Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from If God Is Love: Rediscovering Grace in an Ungracious World by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland

In his book, Beyond Words, Frederick Buechner writes, “The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work: (a) that you need most to do; and (b) that the world most needs to have done.” Much of the unhappiness we experience at work is because we’re not doing what fills us with joy and the world with goodness. This misery is obvious in many low-status jobs, but it also plagues boardrooms. We will inevitably be miserable, no matter how high the salary, exalted the title, or generous the benefits, if we are not doing something that makes the world a more gracious place.

To be full of the Spirit is to have your heart broken by the things that break the heart of God. To be miserable is to exchange the joy of healing the brokenhearted, whether as a doctor, lawyer, waitress, or janitor, for baubles and beads. We must find that place of joy for both us and the world.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 2, verses 21 through 40

After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him before God (as it is written in God’s law, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to God”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

“Teacher, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the God’s law, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

This Week's Sermon

Date: December 27, 2009

Title: Big Shoes for a Small Child

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

The following story is dedicated to Ed Flack and the MCC Resurrection choir:

A farmer went to the big city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was.

"Well," said the farmer, "it was good. They did something different, though. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns."

"Praise choruses?" said his wife. "What are those?"

"Well, they're OK. They’re sort of like hymns, only different," said the farmer.

"Well, what's the difference?" she asked.

The farmer said, "Well, it's like this: If I were to say to you, ‘Martha, the cows are in the corn,’ well, that would be a hymn. If on the other hand, I were to say to you:

‘Martha, Martha, Martha,
Oh Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA,
the cows, the big cows, the brown cows,
the black cows the white cows,
the black and white cows,
the COWS, COWS, COWS
are in the corn,
are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn,
the CORN, CORN, CORN.'

And then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well, that would be a praise chorus."

The next weekend, the farmer’s nephew, a young man from the big city came to visit, and attended the local church of the small town. He went home and his mother asked him how it was.

"Well," said the young man, "it was good. They did something different however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs."

"Hymns?" asked his mother. "What are those?"

"Well, they're OK. They’re sort of like regular songs, only different," said the young man.

"Well, what's the difference?" asked his mother.

The young man said, "Well, it's like this: If I were to say to you: 'Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well, that would be a regular song.

If on the other hand, I were to say to you:
'Oh Martha, dear Martha, hearest thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth
Turn thou thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.

For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense.
Hearkenest they in God's sun or God’s rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.

Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight
Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.

So look to the bright shining day by and by
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn
Where no vicious animals make my soul cry
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.'

And then, if I were to do only verses one, three and four, and do a key change on the last verse, well that would be a hymn.

Will you pray with me? Loving God, we have witnessed anew the coming of Jesus. We have sung the hymns and retold the stories. Help us now to keep alive the meaning of Christ’s birth, to keep hope for the world foremost in our hearts. Let us continue to strive for justice and peace as individuals and as a community. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.

Few of us, it seems, consider the life of Jesus as a “calling.” Many of us grew up theologically within a system of Trinitarian beliefs that already subscribed the personhood of Jesus as God. Even many scholars believe so completely in the Christology of Jesus that they leave little room for human imagination. They leave little room for the human side of Jesus to grow and develop emotionally, physically or spiritually.

In many cases, beliefs in the pre-destiny of Jesus’ life place him in a box—one that disallows there to be any personal or individual choices.
There is an assumption by some that Jesus knew everything that was to transpire in his life, and, in fact, allowed his own ultimate suffering and death to take place because it’s what was supposed to happen.

I prefer to allow a bit more wiggle room for Jesus during his time on earth. In doing so, Jesus has become a more personal figure to me; he has become more tangible, more reachable and more real. If Jesus was human, for example, to deny him all the emotions and conditions of his humanity makes him inaccessible to me; it makes it seem as though he really did not feel the things I feel, think the things I think, or fear the things I fear.

Many Christians believe what the gospels tell us: that Jesus’ coming was foretold in the Old Testament, particularly the Psalms and the writings of the Prophets. Again, this leaves us little room to imagine that one whose coming was predicted could in some way vary from the predictions themselves. And, once again, this means there would be little left to chance, or to human nature (which, as we know by its very nature, is unpredictable).

In fact, our gospel lesson offers a great example of what I’m trying to convey. In the encounter between the Holy Family and Simeon, who was described as righteous and devout (which means we can believe him), an expectation was spoken: “[M] y eyes have seen your salvation, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

Even Mary and Joseph, who had both been visited by angels, were still astonished at Simeon’s words as he spoke of Jesus’ destiny, and even predicted the pain Mary would encounter through Jesus’ death.

Then the prophet Anna, who never left the temple (and therefore another person to believe and to trust). Anna spoke of the child, indicating he would be instrumental in the lives of those seeking redemption—and would act on behalf of those who believed that their lives could be transformed.

The shoes of the Messiah, the one whose coming had been foretold for hundreds of years, were difficult shoes to be filled by anyone, let alone a child—even a child in whom such great expectations were predicted.

While it’s difficult for us, given what I’ve said previously about what we most likely have been taught and have believed about Jesus for most of our lives, it would serve us well, and I believe will serve our relationship with Jesus well, if we could imagine, even for a few brief moments, that Jesus had choices—that his ministry was a direct calling from God that he could have refused, but instead accepted—and that at any point in the midst of his “calling,” Jesus could have backed out—and said “no.”

Frederick Buechner describes a “calling” in this way: “The kind of work God usually calls you to is the kind of work: (a) that you need most to do; and (b) that the world most needs to have done.” Fulfilling our calling, he adds, directly contributes to and benefits the rest of the world.

This all sounds right to me. But I would add a few more things that Buechner may have left out, at least in this particular writing.

I believe, in many ways, that our calling may very well be something we may have previously and very vehemently resisted; our calling may be something that requires more from us than we thought we had, at least one time in our lives; and that our calling came to us as somewhat of an inconvenience—especially with regard to having to put aside other things we thought we wanted to do instead.

I can’t even count the number of times people had at one time said to me, “you know, you’d really be good” at this or that. I always pooh-poohed the idea. In fact, I’ve said the same to others many, many times. And all too often, it was usually received with a shrug or a shake of the head. The indication seemed to be that “it’s impossible—there’s no way something like that could ever happen.”

But this is exactly the sort of clue that makes a person’s “calling” so compelling—there is an initial resistance to it. Usually, it’s the things in life we are most hesitant to do that can bring us the best result (and included among those things is the grace of forgiveness). We should always look to the things we resist the most. There may be gold behind the resistance that could be mined and life-changing.

Also, for many years, I refused to believe that I had particular gifts necessary to accomplish certain things. I didn’t believe I could ever know enough, learn enough, or absorb enough to put the quality that was required into the task. We sell ourselves short way too much. We act as though we can never learn anything new; and as though we could never change. This is just not true. When we really want something badly enough, there are few things we will allow to stand in our way.

And finally, nobody said it would be easy. Often, the path of least resistance, when it comes to a “calling,” is not always the best path. Human life requires struggle. Most things we accomplish without having to work or think are not worth accomplishing. The inconvenience of learning, the challenge of gaining new experiences, the suffering we encounter when we endure rough times often make us tougher mentally and stronger spiritually. We should never allow bumps in the road to keep us from the journey of our calling.

Buechner does add that “To be full of the Spirit is to have your heart broken by the things that break the heart of God. To be miserable is to exchange the joy of healing the brokenhearted” for earthly riches and glory. These are not easy things. We call them sacrifice, and true sacrifice is never easy.

The expectations from Jesus were huge when he first came into the world, and even with the support of the prophets—Simeon and Anna, to foretell his greatness—he chose to fill those shoes.

May we choose to fill the shoes that God expects us to fill, accept the calling before us despite the reservations or the fear, and continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.