The Rituals of Worship

Rev. Debbie Cato
Fairfield Community Church
Luke 2:1-20 and Matthew 3:13-16
First Sunday of Christmas December 31, 2023 

Gracious God, When our world turns upside down or when the road ahead is unclear, we return to ritual. We come to the sanctuary. We break bread at the table. We pour water. We greet one another as family. And we listen to your Word. Today we pray—meet us in this moment. Meet us in these rituals that anchor us and speak a word of hope. We are listening. We are drawing near. We are seeking you. Amen.

 

The Ritual of Worship

 

This year the preaching lectionary is a bit odd.  Last Sunday was both the 4^th Sunday of Advent and Christmas Eve.  That doesn’t happen very often. Today, a week later, we are celebrating Jesus’ baptism – when he is 30 years old!  Time flies, doesn’t it?  Next week, we will celebrate Epiphany.  The Magi visited Jesus when he was a toddler – probably about two years old.  Seems a bit backwards, doesn’t it?!  But that’s what we have.  That’s what the lectionary gives us. 

We’ve talked about Zechariah and Elizabeth’s miraculous conception and their child’s call to prepare the way for the Son of God.  Mary visits her cousin Elizabeth when she first learns she is pregnant with God’s Son and Elizabeth – barren all her life is six months pregnant.  They spend three months together, likely talking about what God has done for them and how it will change their lives. 

To say John is a bit odd is speaking lghtly.  He lives in the wilderness, wears clothes of camel hair, and eats locusts.  He calls people to “repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”  He even calls the pharisees and Sadducees a brood of vipers!  And yet people come from near and far to confess their sins and be baptized by John in the Jordan River. 

People think that John might be the Messiah, but he tells them, “I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

Then Jesus shows up and wants John to baptize him.  John resists – after all, who is he to baptize the Son of God?  Yet Jesus insists and John baptizes him.  After Jesus rises from the waters, a voice from heaven speaks and says, “This is my Son, whom I love.  With him I am well pleased.”

Thus, the sacrament of baptism is instituted by Jesus.  Baptism is one of two sacraments or rituals we practice in the protestant church;  communion is the other. Both are ordained by God and instituted by the Lord Jesus Christ. In Baptism we are united to Christ as members of his body, the church. In Baptism we are washed and welcomed by the grace of God. Baptism is a confession of faith and as Lutherans and Presbyterians we believe that the faith of parents is sufficient for God’s grace to wash over an infant or young child and therefore we baptize babies and young children.

Christ instituted communion at the Last Supper with his disciples on the night of his arrest.  At Communion we join with the church in every time and place to give thanks for our salvation in Christ. At Communion we are nourished and strengthened by that same grace.

Alongside the proclamation of the Word, the Sacraments are “marks of the church”—vital signs of the church’s identity, mission, and ministry. They help to identify the church as a covenant community — the people of God and the body of Christ, joined in a committed relationship to God and to one another through Christ. The Sacraments are signs of God’s gracious promise and seals of God’s life-giving Word. They show us who God is and what God has done for us and for our salvation in Jesus Christ, expressing God’s claim upon our lives and confirming Christ’s calling to be faithful disciples. At the same time, the Sacraments provide a way for us to respond to God’s grace and goodness with our gratitude and praise, offering our lives in joyful service.

 We have rituals in almost everything we do.  Most of us have rituals in our morning routines.  Things we do in a certain order or in a certain way.  Parents always hear how important it is for kids to have routines – or rituals in their lives.  It helps them know what to expect.  I don’t know this for sure, but I imagine there are rituals in farming – when it’s time to plant and when it’s time to harvest.  Ritual is an act that is instilled with meaning. The result of rituals produces something memorable, something meaningful.

Consider all the rituals we are familiar with and participate in weddings, baptisms, funerals, dedications, graduations, etc. We hold retirement parties, we celebrate when someone is declared “cancer-free,” and we hold going away parties when people move.

Every year at Christmas we read the same scripture passage; we hear the same story of the birth of Christ.  Every year at Easter we read the same scripture passage and hear the same story of the resurrection of Christ. These are important seasonal rituals in the church.

Besides making things memorable and meaningful, rituals help us know what to expect.  That’s why our worship services are full of rituals – elements we repeat Sunday after Sunday. That’s why we call it “An Order of Worship.” Elements that you come to expect in a Sunday morning worship service.  Things you probably don’t even think about – until they are missing.  A Call to worship, a Prayer of Confession, reading of Scripture and a sermon – which is an interpretation of scripture, Prayers of the People, Affirmation of Faith, Offering, Benediction.  The elements of worship help us be aware of our humanity and God’s sovereignty. 

The two sacraments we practice – baptism and communion are holy rituals, meant to be treated as such and held in awe.  When you watch a baptism are you reminded of your own baptismal vows or the vows your parents made on your behalf?  Do you remember that you belong to Christ?  When you take communion, are you reminded of the night Christ first shared bread and cup with his disciples?  The night he was arrested, tortured, and later crucified?  Are you in awe that he did this for you?  Do you pray after you take communion and while you are waiting for others to partake? 

Everything about our worship service is meant to glorify God and help us connect deeper to our Lord and Savior.  How do the rituals we practice give meaning to our Sunday worship services?  How do they connect us more deeply to one another and to the wider church? Do  you have a favorite part of worship? Can these regular rituals help us grow more deeply in our faith?  Are there parts of the service you would miss if we stopped doing them?  May all that we do bring glory to God.  Amen.

We Make Room

 

Rev. Debbie Cato
Luke 2:1-20
Fairfield Community Church
December 24, 2023 – Christmas Eve

Loving God, We have heard this story before—the story of a star in the sky and a baby who was laid in a manger. We have heard this story before— passed down in hopeful whispers through the generations.

So this night, as we lean our hearts and our ears closer to you, we ask that you would make room in our souls to hear this story again. Make room in us for awe. Make room in us for wonder. Make room for heartache and compassion. Make room in our hearts for you. Pull us into the narrative, that we might hear the truths in this ancient Word as if it were the first time. For we know that you are still speaking. So speak to us again tonight. We are listening. We are already making room. Amen.

We Make Room

 

Every year we come to church on Christmas Eve to hear this story.  It’s always the same; nothing changes.  We read how Joseph and Mary make the long trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem  because they have to register for the census so that Ceasar Augustus can properly assess taxes.  When they arrive, all the inns are full – or all the guest rooms as Luke tells us, so tradition tells us that they made themselves comfortable in a stable and when Mary gave birth, they wrapped Jesus in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger. 

 We love hearing over and over again, year after year, how the Son of God, Christ the King was not born in a palace fit for a king, or even in an inn with a clean bed and sheets for Mary to give birth in.  The very Son of God was born in a barn and laid in a feeding trough for the animals.  The Messiah would not be a Lord for royalty but a Lord for the humble and the meek.  He would be a Lord for the ordinary people – people like you and me.

But the story doesn’t stop here.  Ordinary, simple shepherds working the nightshift are out minding their own business.  They are on high-alert watching for wild animals who might try to attack their sheep or thieves who might try to steal them.  Their work is dangerous.  Suddenly, an angle appears in the sky – imagine!  An angle appearing in the sky!  The glory of the Lord shone all around them and they were terrified.  But the angel said, “Do not be afraid!”  The angel tells them about the birth of the Christ child.  Then the sky filled with a heavenly host praising God, saying: “Glory to God in the highest heaven,  and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

When the angels disappear and go back to heaven, the shepherds leave for Bethlehem where they find the Christ child just as the angels said.  After seeing him, they were so amazed, they spread the word to everyone they saw about what they had seen and been told. 

 This is amazing, friends!  These simple, ordinary, nobody shepherds were the first to see the baby Jesus.  Not religious leaders or important rulers or community leaders.  Dirty laborers.  Ordinary people like you and me.  God had come to earth for people like us.  For you.  For me.  And after they saw for themselves, they told people!  They became evangelists!

So the question for us on this Christmas Eve is this.  Will this just be a wonderful story that we come to church on Christmas Eve to hear that makes us feel good?  Or, will we make room for Christ in our lives each and every day of the year?

It wasn’t just Christ’s birth that was humble.  Jesus’ whole life and ministry modeled humility.  Jesus taught us how to love one another.  He taught us to take care of one another – especially those who have less than we do.  He taught us to work for justice and mercy.  He taught us to  work for peace.  He taught us to accept one another.  If we follow Christ, if we love Christ, then we must make room for what He taught and modeled in his life.

Our task during this Christmas season and every day after, is to make room. We must acknowledge that the world is weary from grief, war, a pandemic, political strife, personal crises, and the list goes on.  Although these weary acts take place, our joy happens when we encounter life together. When we change the story as it might seem to be and make room for shared moments to rejoice. Let’s not lean on our own understanding but in all our ways trust God to direct our paths—offering God our best by making room for others. The room we make will allow a weary world to rejoice.[1]

Let’s be a Christmas people who love to hear the story, told but then every day let’s make room for Christ to live out in our lives.  Let’s be a community that makes room for kindness and love, for acceptance and justice.  Let’s be a community of service to one another.  Let’s make room to be the  hands and feet of Christ each and every day and live out this beautiful story we love to hear every year.

Have a blessed Christmas.  Amen.

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[1] Sanctified Art,  A Weary World Rejoices.  Christmas Eve.  “We Make Room.”  Commentary.  Cecelia Armstrong.

We Sing Stories of Hope

 

Rev. Debbie Cato
Luke 1:46-55; 67-80
Fairfield Community Church
December 24, 2023 – 4th Sunday of Advent

Loving God, Scripture tells us that the grass withers and the flowers fade, but your Word stands forever. So today we pray— help us to truly hear it. Allow your words to sink deep into the marrow of our bones. Allow your words to lift our hearts in hope, that we might feel one day closer to your promised day. With hopeful and grateful hearts we pray, amen.

 

We Sing Stories of Hope

 

Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent.  We’ve waited four long weeks and tonight, at last, we will sing Christmas carols and celebrate the long-awaited birth of the Messiah.

This Advent our over-arching sermon theme has been “How does a weary world rejoice”.  We have acknowledged that we are living in a time of weariness.  There is much conflict in the world.  A long, drawn-out war in Ukraine and renewed conflict in Israel and Gaza. There are tensions between the United States and other countries. There are tensions within the United States. Listening to our prayer concerns each week there are many people we care about fighting cancer right now and others with equally serious health concerns.  People are struggling. Yes, we are weary.

We discovered that in the midst of weariness, we can find joy in connection;  joy in our relationships with one another.  Joy right here when we gather together to worship. We need one another.  Through one another, we can find joy in the midst of our weariness. 

We talked about how awe and amazement are all around us if we just pay attention; if we just look.  Awe and amazement can break up our weariness and bring joy into our lives.  It’s the small moments – a sunrise or sunset, the laughter of children, an unexpected phone call from a friend that can fill us with awe and a sense of joy.  We can feel joy while still being weary.

Connection and awe and amazement have something in common.  They give us hope.  In an age when weariness surrounds us, when weariness can swallow us up, we need hope more than ever.  Hope gets us through the darkness.  Without hope, there is only despair. Hope reminds us that things will get better. So today, on this last Sunday of Advent, we look at “singing stories of hope.” This idea that when we are swallowed up with weariness, we must grab a hold of hope and remind each other of stories of hope becoming reality.  Times when our hopes came to fruition and the weariness gave way to better times.

After Elizabeth proclaims blessings upon Mary when she arrives at her house pregnant with the Son of God, Mary sings: “My soul magnifies God; my spirit rejoices in God.” Mary sings about a God of liberation who pulls the powerful from their thrones and lifts up the lowly. Mary sings a story of hope, one in which justice and joy are interwoven. As we prepare to celebrate Christ’s birth, we can also sing stories of hope, justice, and joy.[1]

Mary sings of a new world order based on past experiences with God. Her joy is found in remembering what the world has the potential to be based on the presence of God in all things. God has shown strength. God has scattered the proud. God has brought down the powerful. God has lifted the lowly. God has filled the hungry. God has helped those who have served Him according to the promise made to Abraham. God has already done things that should allow a weary world to rejoice. Mary proclaims this in her song of hope and in the story of justice, joy, and a righteous peace.[2]

As soon as Zechariah’s voice returns, his first words are gratitude and blessing. He sings a story of praise for God’s protection and promise, and then he showers a blessing on his newborn son. He sings a story of hope.[3]

Zechariah’s song is a song of hope for the future. His song ignites the thrill of hope that awaits us after a long silence. He bursts into thanksgiving for God’s favor. He acknowledges that God has something better for those who await the future. Zechariah speaks over the life of the one who will be the prophet of the Most High.  Zechariah tells of the blessings for John and speaks into John’s task for the future. It is a song and story of hope.

Consider how the act of singing was important—perhaps even necessary—for Mary and for Zechariah. Imagine how it changed them, how it transformed their experience, how it prepared them for a new chapter. Many preachers will admit that their own sermons are directed at themselves just as much as anyone else. Likewise, were Mary and Zechariah singing the words they needed to hear? Were the words sung by Mary and Zechariah giving them hope as much as those that heard them?

We know that many of the psalms were meant to be sung.  The Israelites knew how to praise God through music.  They knew that song inspired hope.  There are 19 psalms of thanksgiving – thanksgiving and gratitude and inspire hope.  They remind us of what God has done for us in the past. They are assurances of what he will do for us in the future.  There are also 10 psalms of hope.  Psalm 63:7-8 says:  “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love be with us, Lord, even as we put our hope in you.”

Are there songs that inspire hope in you?  Are there songs we sing in church that fill your heart with joy and hope when we sing them?  Perhaps there are songs on the radio that naturally fill you with joy.  Give you energy.  Songs that you just have to sing along with.  Songs that even if you are in the depths of weariness, they lift up your soul.  If only for the length of the song, you are brought to another level outside your weariness, outside your darkness.  The music lifts you up. 

Have you ever considered the possibility that you can be a song of hope in someone’s life?  The importance of that connection; that relationship that can turn weariness into joy can bring hope where there is only despair.  Whether it’s a phone call, a visit, words of encouragement, reminders that they are loved, by you and by God … many ways without much effort that we can be a song of hope for someone. Hope changes everything. It’s what keeps us going.

 Rev. Sara Speed wrote a poem about “The Sound of Hope.”  She writes:

The Sound of Hope
Rev. Sara Speed

 

We’ve been singing a sad song

for quite some time,

the melody syncing with our heartbeats,

the lyrics stamped to the front of our minds.

You say, sad songs are honest.

It’s hard to disagree,

for sad songs tap us on the shoulder.

Sad songs remind us

of the 100 different corners

heartbreak could be behind.

 

But I don’t have it in me

to sing a sad song forever.

So despite the news,

despite the aches in my body,

despite the phone call last night

that says she’s waiting for the test results,

despite yesterday’s shooting,

despite the unknown and unchanged,

I am going to sing a song of hope.

 

Like a canary in a snowstorm,

I don’t need another song of what is;

I need a song of what could be.

So sing with me.

Our voices may get drowned out by the wind,

but surely someone will ask:

Was that a flash of yellow in the snow? A Canary.

Was that the sound of hope?

How do we combat the weariness the world brings our way?  Through connection with one another.  By recognizing the awe and amazement all around us.  And by singing stories of hope to remind ourselves, and one another, that what God has done in the past, He will do again.  Amen.

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[1] Sanctified Art.  Theme/Commentary.  Fourth Sunday of Advent.  “We Sing Stories of Hope.”
[2] Sanctified Art.  Theme/Commentary.  Fourth Sunday of Advent.  Rev. Cecilia Armstrong.
[3] Sanctified Art.  Theme/Commentary.  Fourth Sunday of Advent.  “We Sing Stories of Hope.”

The Terrifying Loss in Christmas - A Homily for the Weary

Rev. Debbie Cato
Blue Christmas Homily
Luke 2:8-18
December 21, 2023 

 

The Terrifying Loss in Christmas
A Homily for the Weary

 

For anyone who has experienced a loss; for anyone who is struggling with a crisis of any kind – a medical diagnosis, loss of employment, financial problems, relationship problems, depression and isolation – anything that this time of year is hard. 

There is Christmas cheer all around us.  You cannot go into a store, turn on the radio or TV, you cannot go anywhere for that matter, without being reminded that it’s Christmas.  It’s the holidays and you should be happy.  But thousands and thousands of people dread this time of year.  But society does not allow much room for sadness at Christmas.  This feeling that you must be happy and there is something wrong if you are not, is very isolating.  It can fill you with dread and even make you fearful of being in public, being around people.

The Christmas narrative, the story of the birth of Jesus, is a serene scene.  A “silent night” experience.  But the story of the shepherds and who they are and the work they did bring fear and terror into the story.  They have intense emotions that aren’t just from the angels surprising them on Christmas night.  Their intense emotions come from their work.

 Shepherding was a job reserved for slaves, underpaid servants or the youngest sons – people deemed “expendable” given the danger of the job. It was not uncommon for shepherds to have to defend their flocks of sheep from wild animals or thieves.  It was not uncommon for shepherds to die on the job.[1]

 The shepherds in the nativity story do not live a serene life.  They were not laying around, relaxed and comfortable when the angels showed up.  They were waiting, listening to the night, bracing for danger to spring out from the dark.

And that night near Bethlehem, that’s exactly what happens.  A scare of cosmic proportions happens.  Angels appear in the sky and the shepherds are terrified.  An angel exclaims, “Fear not!”  The news of Jesus’ birth is delivered and the shepherds leave their flocks and begin a journey into the night to find the Christ child.

Grieving during Advent feels a lot like this part of the Christmas narrative – anticipating danger lurking in the darkness.  While the rest of the world is singing carols and decorating trees, those who are grieving are facing a Christmas without someone they love and dreading it’s arrival.  Those who are grieving have something “off” in their lives.  The weight of isolation is overwhelming and can make it seem as though grief belongs nowhere near celebrations, Advent services, or even Christ himself.  But the shepherds story proves to us that God believes the opposite.[2] 

An angel found the shepherds at night and an invitation to meet the baby Jesus was offered to the fearful, the outcast, the expendable.  After the angels left, the shepherds traveled through the night to meet their Savior. The danger was still there, the fear still lurked, but they took steps that led them closer to Christ.  In fact, the shepherds were the first to see the baby Christ child. 

If you are grieving this Advent; if you are struggling, embrace what the shepherds teach us and what the candles we will light in a bit help us remember: Grief does not disqualify us from Advent.  Grief highlights what Advent is all about. It is O.K. to feel.  To feel both grief and gratefulness.  To feel both sadness and joy.  To feel both loss and hope.  The emotion makes us real.  And this holiday, there is truly space for both.[3]

Peace comes from knowing that God can still find us, even in the midst of our darkest nights.  God saw humanities suffering and chose to experience it firsthand and come to earth.  Joy can show up unexpectedly, not in the form of happiness, but with gratitude that our grief is seen and felt by God.  On Christmas, hope was born into flesh in the form of a baby whose life, death, and resurrection would bring life to all.[4]

 I pray you will find peace, joy, and hope this season.  Amen.

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[1] Faith & Leadership.  Leadership Education at Duke Divinity.  Kalina Carlson.  December 2023. 
[2] Ibid.
[3] Rachel Marie Martin.  Findingjoy.net.
[4] Faith & Leadership.  Leadership Education at Duke Divinity.  Kalina Carlson.  December 2023. 

We Allow Ourselves to Be Amazed

Rev. Debbie Cato
Luke 1:57-66
Fairfield Community Church @ PCAL
December 17, 2023 – 3rd Sunday of Advent

God of the universe, make our hearts porous. Open our eyes, as if for the first time, so that we might see your world with awe and wonder once again. Help us greet this text with awe and gratitude, so that in doing so, we will not only find you in the hallways of our thoughts, but in the pathways of our hearts. With gratitude we pray: keep us open. Amen.

 

We Allow Ourselves to Be Amazed

 

When was the last time you were amazed?  Not surprised – there is much about our world that should shock us; surprise us.  But when were you last amazed – wrapped up in wonder, absorbed in an unexpected delight?[1]

On Thursday morning we had the most beautiful sunrise.  I was actually up early on Thursday – something unusual for me, so I saw the sunrise.  It was stunning.  The sky was purple and pink.  My daughter Jessica, sent me a picture of Clara, who is 5, and Caleb, who is 3, sitting in their  camping chairs in the driveway watching the sunrise.  She said that she went outside, ready to get the kids in the truck and get them off to daycare and school and there they were, sitting and watching the sun rise.  She said they were in awe of the colors.  Amazed with the sunrise.  She said it caused her to slow down, pull up a chair, and watch it with them.  She would have missed it if the kids awe had not caught her attention.  Ask me after church and I’ll be happy to show you the picture! 

If you want to understand what awe, and amazement, and delight are – watch a child.  They are good at it!  They always have time to be amazed. They freely accept and express awe and delight.  Whether it’s a baby seeing Mom or Dad walk into a room or seeing Christmas tree lights for the first time or a child opening up presents or seeing a sky full of stars – the delight in their eyes and on their faces makes the rest of us smile, take notice, and fills us with awe.     

After Elizabeth gives birth, her neighbors and family celebrate with her. When it comes time to name the child, Elizabeth calls him John. Everyone is shocked!  He should be named Zechariah, after his father.  That is the tradition.  Where does the name John come from anyway? Elizabeth must be wrong!  But Zechariah affirms the name given by the both the angel Elizabeth. He writes it down because he can’t speak. The child’s name is John. In that moment of affirming the promise made to God; the promise that the surprised name of the child is indeed John, Zechariah’s speech is restored. Everyone is filled with awe. They celebrate with delight. Surely the hand of the Lord will be on this child named John.

God had done a wonderous thing.  Elizabeth in her old age had conceived a son; a son who would prepare the way for the Son of God.  Zechariah, struck mute because of his disbelief could speak once they fulfilled the promise to God to name their son John.  I can imagine the awe and wonder of Elizabeth and Zechariah gazing into the eyes of their newborn son.  Counting his fingers and toes.  Smelling his newborn scent.  This child was their long-awaited family.  A family they never thought they would have. 

How often do you allow yourself to be amazed? Wonder is all around us—do we recognize it? As we learn how to rejoice in a weary world, can we live in a way that allows amazement and wonder to surprise us often?

The shepherds were awed when the angels unexpectedly greeted them in the dark of the night.  They were amazed enough that they left their flocks of sheep to find the newborn baby.  They were awed when they found the baby lying in the manager and they worshiped him.

The magi were amazed when they noticed a never-before seen star in the sky.  So amazed, that they traveled more than 900 miles to find the Christ child.  Though they were foreigners and not Jews, they knew who this baby was; the Son of God.  Their awe caused them too to worship the Son of God.

The awe and amazement of the shepherds and the magi allowed these unlikely characters to be the first visitors to see the Messiah. They weren’t the powerful or religious leaders.  They weren’t even followers of the faith.  But it was the shepherds and the magi that God chose to travel and find his newborn son.  It was these unlikely characters who got the first word; the first look at the baby Jesus.

Psalm 126, says:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

    we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter,

    our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations,

    “The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us,

    and we are filled with joy.

Those who expected to reap tears are granted a surprise: shouts of joy. Amazement is a balm for the weary.

After having serious health problems this year and being sick with no energy for 10 months, I wake up every day in awe of how good I feel and the energy I have.  The weariness I felt for so long is gone.  God has replaced it with joy.  Can anyone relate?

But even when we are weary; even when we are in the depths of darkness, God puts things in our path that can bring us awe, things that can amaze us.  The voice of a good friend on the other end of the phone.  A beautiful sunrise or sunset.  Unexpected fresh snow in the morning.  A child’s laughter at a simple delight.  The awe of a new day.

Mary Oliver, a wonderful poet, said this about awe:  she says,

          Instructions for living a life.

          Pay attention.

          Be astonished.   

          Tell about it.

I think sometimes us adults take life too seriously.  We are busy.  We move from one task to the next and we don’t take time to pay attention.  To look.  To see.  To listen.  To hear.  God’s amazing creation surrounds us.  God’s diverse humanity is everywhere.  What is around us that is astonishing?  That is unexpected?  That is amazing?  It’s there.  We just have to notice.  And then as Mary Oliver suggests, we should tell about it.  Share it with one another.  Did you see the beautiful sunrise this morning?  Today my friend called me. I haven’t heard from her for a long time and it was so good to hear her voice.  It was such a wonderful surprise. 

There is  much to be weary about.  We don’t have to look for it.  It seems to find us. Whether it’s something in our personal life or something in our community or the world, weariness surrounds us and it can suck us in.  We need to look for the awe.  We need to be open to be amazed.  To find joy.  It’s all around us too. It’s waiting to be noticed; to be found.  To be taken in and held and digested and shared. 

Like Elizabeth and Zechariah, God is blessing us all the time.  If we take time to notice, we will be amazed with how He works in our lives.  It will fill us with awe and wonder and joy.  It will help ease the weariness. 

Rev. Sara Speed from Sanctified Art wrote a poem about awe and joy.  It’s called:

All the Way to Joy
Rev. Sara Speed

 We could play hard and fast,

not let anything touch us at all,

keep composure,

have all the answers.

Or we could crack ourselves open

and let everything in.

 

We could feel everything,

every touch, every marvel.

We could stand gaping

at the beauty of the world,

mouths wide open (because sometimes

a mouth wide open is the very best gratitude).

We could laugh so loudly

that the whole restaurant looks,

and err on the side of goofy

whenever possible.

We could put our defenses down.

We could grow soft.

We could choose awe.

We could take her by the arm.

We could let her lead us all the way to joy.

 

I like the end –

We could put our defenses down. We could grow soft. We could choose awe. We could take her by the arm. We could let her lead us all the way to joy.

Perhaps as adults it’s hard for us to feel awe because we have our defenses up. We think awe is for the children.  Our role is to take life seriously.  But, let’s challenge that.  God created us to feel awe and wonder; to laugh and be filled with joy.  He created an amazing world around us filled with wonders – things waiting to fill us with awe.  Fill us with joy.  He created people and put them in our lives to share our weariness and share our delights.  To laugh and cry together.  To be in relationship with. 

Even though we know the nativity story by heart, will we be prepared to be amazed by the birth of Christ?  Amazed that God uses ordinary people to achieve His plan?  Will we allow ourselves to once again be amazed that God took on flesh and moved into the neighborhood?

Next week is a busy week.  What will bring you awe?  Will you be open to what God has waiting for you?  If so, prepare to be amazed.  Amen.

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[1] Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity.  From the Artist.  The Third Week of Advent.  Sanctified Art.  How Does a Weary World Rejoice?  We allow ourselves to be amazed.