“Shaped Today by Tomorrow”

Scripture – Luke 21:25-36

Sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Randall T. Clayton

Sunday, December 1, 2024

For the past several weeks on my daily walks between my home and here, I’ve noticed signs of Christmas springing up – lights appearing on railings, decorated trees in windows, and wreaths beginning to be affixed to doors. Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, we are probably ready to jump headlong into Christmas joy. Right? Not so fast. In the church there’s still a journey ahead, a journey called Advent.

As the days are still getting shorter and the nights longer, we are not yet at the entrance to a stable in which a new-born king is cradled in a manger. And, goodness knows, we know all-too-well that everything is not calm and bright, not today, not tonight. So, on this first Sunday of Advent, we aren’t gustily singing “Joy to the Word,” but instead are making a passionate plea in minor tones, “O come, O come Emmanual, rescue us.”

Instead of kneeling by a manger, today we find ourselves smack-dab in the middle of fear and chaos, sitting with hopes dashed, nursing grief for longings unrequited, feeling the stinging effects of bullies, violence, and warfare, worrying what awaits us in the coming months. That being recognized, we turn to Jesus’ words as Luke records them in the 21^st chapter of his Gospel:

Luke 21:25-36

²⁵“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. ²⁶People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. ²⁷Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. ²⁸Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

²⁹Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; ³⁰as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. ³¹So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. ³²Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. ³³Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. ³⁴“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, ³⁵like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. ³⁶Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”[1]

So the story goes, well more than 220 years ago, the Connecticut House of Representatives was in session on a bright sunny day in May. It was so bright that the delegates were able to work by natural light; no candles needed. But then, in the middle of a debate, there was an eclipse of the sun. Without knowing there would be an eclipse and with everything suddenly dark and not understanding what had happened, many of the legislators thought that the second coming was arriving. In light of that, some wanted to adjourn to get home to family to prepare for the tumult to come. Others wanted to stop and pray. Few wanted to continue the deliberations, at least until the Speaker of the House rose and said, “We are all upset by the darkness, and some of us are afraid. But ‘the Day of the Lord’ is either approaching or it is not. If it is not, there is no cause for adjournment. And if the Lord is returning, I, for one, choose to be found doing my duty. I therefore ask that candles be brought.” Candles were brought, the debate continued, and instead of the return of Christ; they had only experienced a solar eclipse. [2]

Like those delegates, we still live between the first coming of Jesus and the second, and as someone once observed, “most of us feel a lot better about the first one. Christmas is about a baby, after all, and that makes everything easier. We know about babies, and so we know how to domesticate Christmas. We set up a creche, pin up a wreath, set out a poinsettia or two, maybe we sing ‘Away in a Manger’ with the alternate tune. Altogether we figure out how to manage Christmas so that the little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay won’t end up scaring anybody. But the second coming is something else.”[3]

Signs in the sun, moon, and stars. Distress among nations. Fear and foreboding. Who wants that? Not us. Nations being confused by the roaring of the sea. The powers of the heavens being shaken. Not something we yearn for or desire either.

Despite the fact that we pray each-and-every Sunday, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” we read a text such as the one I just read and want to pray, “Oh no Lord, don’t let your kingdom come…not now…not anytime soon.” It just sounds so awful, and so frightening…signs in the moon, distress, foreboding, heavens shaken.

However, I don’t think that Luke’s intent here was to instill fear, but rather, to give hope. These words and ideas weren’t meant to cause anxiety, but rather to provoke joy. They were not designed to make us want to cower in fear and trembling, but instead to shape the way we faithful people live.

Luke’s readers didn’t have to look into the future to know fear and foreboding. They lived with it, each-and-every day. They didn’t have to look into the future to see signs all around of a world being torn apart at the seams by prejudice, hatred, bullying, violence, and enmity between nations and people. They lived in that world, already. “Signs in the sun, the moon, the stars, and on earth distress among nations…” Jesus said. That wasn’t a prediction of the future, it was instead a metaphorical description of the present reality.

Life was hard. The beloved Temple had been torn down. Hostile powers threatened them, outsiders ruled them. Budgets were balanced on the backs of the poor, which Luke’s readers were. The vulnerable got trampled. And tomorrow? Thoughts of tomorrow must have filled them with fear that the bad could get a whole lot worse and there was little they could about it. Luke wasn’t so much telling them about what would happen at some unknown point in the future as he was metaphorically describing what they were experiencing then, there. In so doing he was offering them hope in the midst of scary, and frightening, and uncertain, and difficult times.

Biblical scholar Elizabeth Achtemeier says Luke was offering to his readers the good news that God is “working toward a goal. [that] God is on the move, constantly active, constantly pressing forward to the time when God’s kingdom has come in its fullness…In other words, [Jesus was saying] the present …state of the world is not going to last forever. Our wars and violence and hatreds, our sufferings and heartbreaks and fears – all will be abolished when the Son of Man comes to usher in the final rule of God…” [4]

As it was for Luke’s original audience, there are signs all around us today that things are way off kilter, signs everywhere that things are not the way God intends them to be. I mean, surely God does not intend that there be more unhoused people in Delaware now than there were a year ago, or two years ago. Surely God doesn’t desire that men, women, and children in Gaza, and Lebanon, and Syria, and Ukraine, live in fear or warfare. Surely it not OK with God that medical facilities get blown up in war, or that aid workers are killed trying to deliver food and medical supplies. And God’s heart must be shattered whenever long sought rights are taken away, whenever people are bullied, whenever someone is bashed, whenever a child dies. A God who loves us enough to come to earth cannot be pleased when our hope and health get ripped apart by Alzheimer’s, or cancer, or that we must experience gaping holes ripped into our fragile communities by gun violence or road rage. Our world says, “might makes right,” and “get even at all costs,” and most importantly, “look out for #1.” Surely this is not the world that God intends and ultimately it is not the world that God will have.

So, when we are feeling about as hopeless as we can feel about the enormity of problems in the present or feel as if we are deer in the headlights as we face tomorrow. Luke says, “Hold on. Hold on. Have hope, even now. Your redemption is near. Near. Near.”

The word “near” can refer to time, as in, the clock is ticking and it’s almost midnight. Or, “near” can also mean a location, as in, just outside the door, or here beside us in the sanctuary. It’s this second sense of “near” that I believe we find in today’s passage about our redemption. Indeed, in the birth of Jesus, Emannuel has come near, here. Already. Even now. Emmanual is here, reaching out to us, drawing us toward a tomorrow in God’s kin-dom that will not be like today. Emmanuel is near, and God has not stopped being involved in creation.

Yes, we can destroy creation by our actions, or lack thereof, and then die because our planet can no longer sustain life. Yes, we can drop devastating bombs and wipe out entire countries, if not the world itself. Yes, we can create and nurture divides among people that which will continue to have debilitating and death dealing results not just for the other side, but for our side as well. Yes, we can turn a blind eye to the poor, somehow believing if we just hold onto a bit more of what we have we  can somehow save ourselves or secure our future, only to discover at the end of the day to our dismay the reality that what we have in the bank, and what we hold in stocks and endowments, will not save us at all. And, no, I do not think that God will rescue us from the painful and tragic results of living that is less than faithful.

But God is near, even today, and God has not given up on us or on creation either. This is the stuff of real hope itself.

Luke, however, is not just offering hope in these words about a second coming, he is also giving us a roadmap for a faithful journey. Knowing the destination that God wants for creation, we can also know how to travel faithfully toward that destination. It’s as if the future can pull on us in the present.

Theologian Justo Gonzalez points out that the “future causes much of the present…” He illustrates this in an essay writing, “I am now writing down these words because they will be published; and they will be published because they will be read. Certainly such hopes may never be fulfilled; but still it is out of [the hope that the words will be read] that these words are written, and without that hope they would not be written. The other side of the same coin is that our faith in the future is either corroborated or belied by our present actions. If I say that I expect this book to be published, but do not write it, no one will believe that I really expect the book to be published. If I claim belief in the coming kingdom of peace, love, and justice, and meanwhile do not practice peace, love, and justice, all my protestations of faith will avail nothing.” [5]

Knowing the future God intends, we are invited to be pulled into it by living now in a way that shows God’s intent for all to see and all to experience. Knowing where we are now, and knowing the destination God has in mind for creation, the route between the two becomes clear: to love as Jesus loved, to serve as Jesus served, to give as Jesus gave.

Before we see the “no vacancy” sign on the inn this year, before we smell the straw on the floor beneath the manger cradling a new-born king, before we hear angels proclaiming peace on earth we fix our gaze toward the end. When we do, we can begin to clearly see God’s desire that all might know hope, and peace, joy, and love. And seeing that ever so clearly, perhaps we can find hope enough to make it through difficult times, hope enough to love as Jesus loved, to serve as Jesus served, to give as Jesus gave. And when we do, we share our hope with the world around us until that day when Christ returns in glory and day when hope, peace, joy, and love fill all of creation, everywhere and forever.

Please pray with me:

O Loving God, ever and always near, forgive us when we act as if our actions do not matter, for those times that we fail to look to your creative purposes and let those purposes mold our lives. Forgive us for those times when we have lost hope in you, and hope in the tomorrow that you call into being. Keep our eyes focused on your love, and your desires, so that tomorrow you envision might shape our lives today. And as we journey toward Advent, renew our hope in the salvation you offer, and in your nearness, always. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Prayers of the People

Gregory Knox Jones

Eternal God, we embark on the season of Advent with a grateful heart, mindful of the multitude of our blessings – all of which have their genesis in you.

Loving God, we give you thanks for expressing your love for us through Jesus of Nazareth, who walked this earth long ago and during his earthly journey experienced both the hardships and the happiness that come with human existence. He knew pain and laughter, struggle and comfort, sorrow and joy, hate and love.

Spirit of Life, the land where he walked knows too much sorrow today. The brutal killing of children and women continues and the death toll is staggering and difficult for us to absorb an ocean away. When will we learn to follow Jesus on the path to peace? Why is it so difficult to truly care about the well-being of our neighbor? More than ever, we need to focus on what Jesus has shown us is right and true and good.

Mighty God, as Christ came into the world long ago, we pray that he will break into our lives again and again, to shake us from our deadly ways and awaken us to your presence in our midst.

Come into our minds with whispers of wisdom to solve the problems we encounter. Penetrate our hearts so that we may feel your presence when days are depressing. Soothe our souls with a serenity that washes away anxiety when days are grueling.

Gracious God, during these days of Advent, may we be awake to the countless, sometimes hidden opportunities that arise so that we may work in partnership with you to forge a new future where lies are buried by truth, fears conquered by courage, strife surpassed by compassion, sadness blown away by joy, and despair swamped by hope. As we take our first steps into the season of hope, peace, joy, and love, we give thanks for these longings of the human heart and pray that we may do our part in giving birth to them in our world.

Now, hear us as we join our voices as one in the prayer Jesus hoped we would pray together, saying, Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever. Amen.

NOTES

[1] NRSV

[2] Platinga, Cornelius, Jr. “In The Interim: Between Two Advents,” Christian Century, December 6, 2000.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Achtemeier, Elizabeth, “Luke 21:25-36, Between Text and Sermon,” Interpretation, 1994.

[5] Gonzalez, Justo L., Luke, in Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, page 242.