We live in a violent and dark time. At
least that is how it feels. After watching Mankind: The Story of
All of Us, I am not
really convince it is more violent or darker than it was in years
past but it feels that is. Perhaps it is because our world has grown
smaller. It feels that when there is joy and love in the air,
something/someone comes along and wipes it away. It is as if our
broken world does not really ever truly want to live in peace and
with joy and love. We come up with reasons why our world is like
this. We blame poor gun laws and poor healthcare. We blame
politicians and the so called removal of God from society. We blame
violent video games and movies. We blame dark forces that inhabit our
world. We are good at finding reasons why the candles of hope, peace,
joy, and love are continually snuffed out just when they start to
burn brightest.
Yes, it is important during dark days
to ask ourselves why and to question our culture as a whole. It is
equally important to ask ourselves the very question we avoid: Am I a
child of love and joy or am I child of the dark and dejected? Do I
prefer to live in the light of the kingdom of heaven? Or do I prefer
to live in the darkness of my world?
John writes that the light came into
the world but the world refused it but the light could not be snuffed
out. The light of Christ shined in the midst of the darkness for the
world to see even when those who claimed to follow the light of God
hung God's light on a wooden cross. The light of God came into our
world and attempts to immediately have it removed from our world
began before Jesus ever had the chance to tell a story, change water
into wine, or preach of what the kingdom of heaven is like, the
world, the powers that be, did their best to keep us in the dark.
Now, in the not too distant future, we keep finding ways to snuff out
that light.
The light of God has come into our
world. It has shone in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome
it. Micah tells us that the messiah will come from Bethlehem, the
littlest of clans, the runt of the litter. From the littlest of
places our hope, our peace, our joy, our love will come into being,
God will come to us from the most unexpected place. The light shines
from the smallest of clans in Israel, it is a light that if it shone
today would shine out of the smallest of houses, the smallest of
ghettos, the smallest of towns, the smallest of villages. If the
light were to shine today it would shine brightly from the most of
unexpected places in the most unexpected ways. The light of God would
shine and we would deny that light to shine in our own lives and in
our own world. Why? Because it does not shine from our expected
places of power and prestige.
The breaking in of the kingdom of
heaven during this advent season shines the light of God so brightly
that it exposes all we hide in darkness. We see the imperfections in
our lives, we see the plank that sticks out of our eyes and so we
turn to see the speck of saw dust in our neighbors. We hold up our
mirrors that expose who we really are to deflect the light so it
might shine on others. We deny our own sins so we can cast our stones
and place the blame on the sins of the world. We blame “them” for
snuffing out the light when we have refused to allow the light shine
out of church basements, Sunday school classrooms, sanctuaries, and
from our homes. It is us who claim to love the light of God which
brings us hope, peace, joy, and love, who snuffs out this light. We
snuff it out because it did not come as we expected. It did not come
in the corrupted ways televangelists and politicians have said it
would come. The light shined out of the ghetto of Bethlehem,
surrounded by animals and filth, and the light shined brighter and
brighter as lowly shepherds ran into town, as wise men traveled
years, all to see this light of God. That night the light of God lit
up the heavens and the kingdom of heaven broke through.
I am drawn to Micah's words, “And he
shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the
majesty of the name of the Lord his god. And they shall live secure,
for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be
the one of peace” (Micah 5:4-5a). His words captivate my own self
and force me to ask myself this question: Have I snuffed out the
light of God? And the answer is yes.
Every time I have denied someone
something to eat, something to drink, something to wear, a place to
sleep, I have snuffed out the light of God. Every time I have denied
a child an encounter with Jesus because they have chosen to meet him
in their own way, I have snuffed out the light of God. Every time I
choose to respond in anger and in violence, I snuff out the light of
God. When I put my own selfish needs before others, I snuff out the
light of God.
Likewise, as I ask myself that
question, the church must ask if they have snuffed out the light of
God. Have we, as followers of Christ, extinguished the light of God?
Yes, we have. Every time we choose tradition and rituals over God's
call, we extinguish the light of God. Every time we choose power over
service, we extinguish the light of God. Every time we deny others a
place at God's table, at God's manger, we extinguish the light of
God. Yes, when we seek to take tweezers to remove the speck of saw
dust from our neighbor's eye before even touching the plank in our
own, we extinguish the light of God.
Fortunately, for us, by the grace of
God, the light does not go out. The light from these candles burn in
spite of us. Hope, peace, joy, and love find away into our dark world
no matter how many times we try to put out the flames. The light of
the kingdom of heaven breaks through our drapes and curtains and
shines brightly even when we wish it would not. The light of the
kingdom of heaven shines brightly even in places and at time we did
not think it could.
The beauty of the scriptures is God's
light finds a way to shine through the darkness. The poet tells us
that God spoke light into darkness. The gospels tell us that the
light of God was in the world and the darkness did not overcome it.
The light of God's hope, peace, joy, and love never leaves us or
escapes. Yes, we may extinguish these candles but the light they
produce is too great to not appear elsewhere.
Yes, the light burns us because we have
lived in the dark for so long. We have grown accustomed to believe
that peace requires war and bloodshed. We have grown accustomed to
mass shootings, and epidemics, and poverty, and hate, and oppression
that we fear the light because the light that John the Baptist speaks
to is a light that burns away all that keeps us from God. He is like
a refiner's fire and a fuller's soap and the pain of being made
whole, of having our world turned right side up, is too new, too
amazing, too real, too majestic so we bury ourselves in our hobbit
holes hoping the star of the angel does not appear at our door and
beckon us to the manger; for we know we will be changed inside and
out and we are accustomed to our nice warm beds. We prefer to walk
the crooked paths with our crooked backs than to walk straight and
upright.
Yes, the light of God burns us all. Our
imperfections are exposed but the light also exposes something
greater: God's eternal, majestic, amazing, unyielding, unrelenting,
omnipresence, captivating love. The light of God shines God's
greatest gift of love because love hopes in all things, believes in
all things, bears all things, and endures all things. Our human love
may fail one another but God's enduring love continues to light these
advent candles in the midst of the darkness.
Yes, I must admit to you these past few
weeks and month have slowly extinguished these candles in my own
life. I have felt the tears of the world drain the hope, peace, joy,
and love out of me; often it has been done by others who share my own
faith. I can attest to you that the darkness can be a very powerful
thing. It can encase you in a moment before you even realize that it
has happened. We have all been there before in some way. We have all
had those moments it feels like every ounce of our love and faith
have been wiped away. In those moments, like the psalmist, we cry
out, “Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a
flock! You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth before
Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh. Stir up your might, and come to
save us! Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be
saved.” (Psalm 80:1-3 NRSV).
But then something happens. A kind word
from a stranger; a note in the mailbox; a hug and a thank you; a
laugh or a kiss; something happens and slowly the light begins to
shine in the darkness. Slowly we see the light of the kingdom of
heaven breakthrough. Slowly our eyes begin to adjust and we see
laying in a manger the light of God, the Prince of Peace, the King of
Kings, the messiah, God's hope, peace, joy, and love. Slowly our
faith is renewed, our path made straight, and yes, we begin to desire
to bath in the light of God. Slowly the light makes its way into our
hearts and our lives and we are lifted on the wings of eagles. Yes,
slowly we are healed by this light and thank God almighty we are.
Yes, thank God almighty for the light
that shines in the darkness and for the darkness could not overcome
it. Yes, thank God almighty for this unexpected journey filled with
hope and to peace, joy, and love. Yes, we give thanks in the midst of
darkness for the light that shines from the manger. Yes, thank God
almighty that we, who have walked in darkness, have seen a great
light. Yes, thank God almighty for the star which shined so brightly
that dark night so long ago. Yes, thank God almighty for Christ's
unending, unfailing love. Yes, thank God almighty for the manger.
No comments:
Post a Comment