Messiah Church - ELCA

Twenty Years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones that you did do. So throw off the bow lines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

                                                Mark Twain

            Every year when I sit down to write a Christmas message I usually turn to the birth of Jesus and highlight the miracle that it is – the entrance of God into the ordinariness of the world. I often write of the mystery of Emmanuel, that is, God-with-us, and I always point to God’s plan, and God’s action, and God’s love for us. Still, as in every event of scripture, while God does the inviting, there needs to be a response. This past week as I discovered the above quotation from Mark Twain, I began to reflect a bit more on the response to God in the lives of Joseph and Mary.

            Joseph is the central character of Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth. Joseph is the one to whom dreams are given. Joseph is the one who is instructed not to fear, to take Mary as his wife, to name the child Jesus, to flee to Egypt, and to return to Nazareth. Joseph is the one given the invitation by God in Matthew’s Gospel. And certainly Luke the Evangelist places Mary at the center of his story. The announcement of the pregnancy, the visitation to Elizabeth, the journey to Bethlehem and the birth in a stable all revolve around the young girl from Nazareth named Mary. And while there is so much in each Christmas story that is unique, there is also a common thread that moves through each – that to follow the call of God demands risk!

            Each year as I recall the infancy stories of Matthew and Luke, I am always surprised at the amount of risk involved. How much safer it might have been for Joseph and Mary had they chosen to ignore the call of God. How much more comfortable their lives might have been had they played it safe and done what their families expected of them. How much more ordinary their lives might have been if they had simply walked away. And yet the reason why we read these Gospel stories two thousand years later is that they are incredible stories of risking everything in the name of love, in the name of life, and in the name of God. Joseph and Mary chose to take the great risks of faith and they were rewarded with a wonderful adventure, the adventure of God in Jesus.

            How often in our own lives we are tempted to play it safe and to turn from the risks of real love? How often we want to walk away from change and turn from the invitation to love? Still, I believe that our God calls us to take the risks of love every day. I believe that God invites us to throw ourselves into relationships of love and risk being vulnerable. I believe that God calls us to get up from our dead-end jobs, entrenched routines, and safe habits to strike out on a new paths, and risk being little insecure. I believe that God calls us to drop old hurts and wounds, challenge our prejudiced opinions, forgive old enemies, and risk being more than just a bit uncomfortable. All life, or rather, all real life demands risk.

            In the end, the Christmas stories are stories of invitation and risk - risks that lead to wonderful adventures. God invites us every day to enter ever more deeply into the journey of love. It is usually uncomfortable, often times unsettling, and always frightening but the reward is great. What is God calling you to risk this Christmas? Take heart from the Gospel; remember Joseph and Mary’s response; take the risks of love!

Twenty Years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones that you did do. So throw off the bow lines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

            So often I return to a wonderful poem by Mary Rita Shilke Korzan entitled When You Thought I Wasn’t Looking. As Melissa and I continue learning what it means to parent children - to teach them and raise them to know what is right and wrong – this poem reminded me of the importance of what I do each day. Perhaps it’s also a poem about what it means to proclaim Good News.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you hung my first painting on the refrigerator, and I wanted to paint another.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you fed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn’t looking, you baked a birthday cake just for me, and I knew that little things were special things.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you said a prayer, and I believed there was a God that I could always talk to.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you kissed me good-night, and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn’t looking I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt–but that it’s all right to cry.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you smiled, and it made me want to look that pretty, too.

When you thought I wasn’t looking you cared, and I wanted to be everything I could be.

When you thought I wasn’t looking–I looked . . . and wanted to say thanks for all those things you did when you thought I wasn’t looking.

As I mentioned before, perhaps this poem is more than a simple reflection on parenting and raising children to know right from wrong. Maybe this is the core of evangelism and our work as church.

Every day I receive literature through the mail that is trying to sell me a product that will help our congregation better evangelize. Every month the South Central Synod office reminds me that our primary focus for the years to come will be evangelism. And every so often the church wide office in Chicago will send a mailing to every ELCA pastor reminding them of the mission of the ELCA – to proclaim the gospel by making Christ known to others. Still, I sometimes wonder if we have forgotten the primary way that we do evangelism, that is, by the way we live our lives. After all, I truly believe that if we continue coming together each Sunday with energy and joy, if we laugh heartily and sing boldly and share deeply, then people who see us will want to know the source of our joy and laughter, our singing and sharing - a source that is Christ. If we continue giving generously to support the work of this congregation and the wider church, if we support the food pantry, the homeless shelter, domestic abuse services and all the other charities that we believe in, then people who see us will want to know the source of our generosity - a source that is Christ. If we live with each other in peace without ‘sweating the small stuff’ and try to love each other and enjoy each other, then people who see us will want to know the source of that peace - a source that is Christ.

The bottom line is this. People are watching us even when we think they’re not looking. The way we live teaches our children more than anything we can ever say. The way we love one another here at Messiah will proclaim to world better than any sermon, the source of our life and love, a source that is Christ. If we are people of love, life, laughter and generosity, then and only then, will we be great, great evangelizers!

When I was growing up outside of Neenah, because we had a lot of land, and not a whole lot of neighbors, we always seemed to have plenty of animals around.  My family raised chickens, geese, and ducks for awhile.  For a few seasons we raised rabbits but for the most part, throughout many years, we had dogs, hunting dogs.  You see my Grandfather, my Dad and my older brothers were hunters and so it seemed natural that they would spend a good part of their free time training good hunting dogs.  Now although I wasn’t a hunter, I always enjoyed the dogs.  In fact, when I was ten my Dad allowed me to take the coins I saved all year long and buy myself a young beagle pup.  Since most of the coins I saved were nickels, that’s what I called him…Nickels.  I remember the day we went to pick him out.  His Father was a field champion and had won many awards.  Nickels however was a little too big and his tail a bit strange looking so the owner was willing to let him go cheaply.  Anyway, for me he was just the right color, the right shape, and the right size.  Beagles are hunting dogs, still it made no difference that I wasn’t a hunter, it was the right animal for me.

            I loved the dog as anyone might love a pet.  I fed it, nurtured it, played with it and cared for it.  Nickels never lacked for food or comfort.  At times however, Nickels seemed restless and unfulfilled.  Whenever I would throw a ball or a stick out into the field, Nickels would stand near the object confused as to fetch it or sniff around.  Whenever I would walk out into the woods, Nickels would run around barking frantically and searching in circles, always returning panting, winded and obviously frustrated with a scent he didn’t recognize.

            Slowly I came to realize that Nickels was not meant to be a house pet - soon I came to see that I was stopping him from being what he was meant to be - a hunter.  I gave him to my Uncle Wally who trained him how to follow a scent, how to break off a trail when called, and how to kick up animals without killing.  He lived for a number of years.  Nickels always seemed happier after that - I guess he finally came to know the thrill for which he was born.

            There comes a point in all of our lives when we need to let someone go in order that they might learn who or what they truly are.  Whether its a young mother who must send her first child off to kindergarten, or a middle-aged man who must give away his only daughter in a wedding ceremony, or an elderly woman who kisses her husband one last time before he dies - there comes a point when all of us need to let someone go in order that they might grow and discover who they truly are.

            I sometimes think that Jesus ministry was one of preparing his apostles for the moment he was to leave them. And perhaps this was the greatest miracle of Jesus life – that he entrusted the mission and ministry of the Kingdom to ordinary people in their ordinary lives. Still, Jesus knew that he needed to let go of the Apostles in order that they might grow and discover themselves as the key preachers of the Kingdom of God.  I am sure that Jesus must have felt a tremendous desire to hold on to his friends.  Certainly Jesus must have been filled with nostalgia and memories of the good times - the times when they laughed together, sang together, slept under the stars together, worked miracles together, even suffered together.  Yet Jesus knew that if they were to grow and become what they were meant to become then he must let them go and return to the Father.  It was only after Jesus left, that the Apostles came to know the thrill for which they were born.

            So many times in our Christian lives and in our prayer, we feel as though God is so far away.  So many times we wonder where Jesus is.  So often we have feelings of abandonment, and yet at some point we come to realize that perhaps these are the times when we grow most of all.  Perhaps it is in these moments, when Jesus seems to have left us behind, that we grow to become what we were always meant to become.  Jesus left his mission in the hands of the Apostles, and that mission is the thrill for which they were born, to proclaim love and peace and a new Kingdom to the world.  It is that mission which we have inherited today and the thrill for which we were born.  Like the Apostles so long ago, Jesus knows what we can be, he knows what we are able to do, and he is never far from us, the mission is in our hands.