Enlightenment is seeing God’s light of hope in the baby, at the cross, not in spite of them, and then radiating that light into the world yourself.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Epiphany of Our Lord
Texts: Matthew 2:1-12; Isaiah 60:1-6 (with reference to John 1)

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Are you here seeking enlightenment tonight?

Light is a powerful image for humanity. Every part of this globe every day is partially covered in darkness. Even those on the equator have half their days in darkness, and even though those near the poles have times when the sun barely sets, they still have moments where there isn’t enough light to see by.

So we have learned to use light to help us see. To overcome our fear of the darkness, where things invisibly threaten us. We learned to burn wood, we learned to put a piece of string in the wax bees make and light it, we eventually harnessed God’s electricity for light whenever and wherever we needed it. So we don’t stumble in the dark, bruise our shins, break our legs. So we aren’t afraid.

But we also learned this about light: it’s a helpful way to describe understanding. When we are confused, lost, afraid, and come to understand hope, or direction, or clarity, we say we are enlightened. Our minds now have light in them, we say, shining so we can see – not with our eyes but with our hearts and our minds and our spirits.

So I ask you again, are you hoping for enlightenment tonight? Is that why you came?

Maybe the Magi were seeking enlightenment, too.

They famously read the skies and interpreted the movement of planets and suns millions of miles away as indicating truth of something on earth. We’ve long since abandoned that idea. How can the rotation of our solar system, let alone distant galaxies, say anything about who we are, what God is doing?

But even in the Magi’s day, astrology was pretty subjective. Different cultures believed different things about what they saw in the skies, and it wasn’t like the star they followed came with an instruction guide. Somehow, they came to believe it was important that they go in a certain direction and see what they believed this heavenly body was indicating. But even as they arrived in Jerusalem, they didn’t know where to go.

Maybe they were looking to be enlightened as much as we are. So, they showed up at a house and saw a baby in the night, just as we’ve showed up in this house and heard about a baby in the night.

And Matthew says they were enlightened. They were overwhelmed with joy. What they saw opened their eyes, their hearts, their minds, to God’s grace coming into a dark and frightening world.

That’s an enlightenment we’d love to have.

Where is God in a world where children are killed by wicked rulers who feel their power threatened, 2,000 years ago and today? Where people are permitted to destroy the climate and wreak havoc on innocent humans, animals, landscapes? Where so many of God’s children are homeless and starving? Where powers that work evil and suffering seem nearly invincible?

We truly are here once again, as we always are, to ask of God: where is the beauty of your light in the darkness of the world? Where is the One whom we seek to be found, we ask like the Magi, and how will that One bring light?

And here is the light that John tells us shines in the darkness and cannot be overcome: God comes in a human child.

But anyone who saw the baby Jesus might not find it obvious that God was in this child for the healing of the world. Our Christmas movies always have a glowing light surrounding the Holy Family, presumably so the shepherds knew where to look, and the Magi knew where to kneel and set their presents.

But God’s truth is hard to grasp in this baby. If Matthew said a great warrior hero was God-with-us, maybe that’d be easier. Where is John’s promised light in this poor little family, this poor little baby?

But Matthew and John know the truth. The light of God, the heart of God the Son came to reveal, God-with-us, is only seen in this humility, this vulnerability.

That’s the enlightenment you need: not believing God is with us in spite of looking like a baby, but believing God-with-us can only be known in this little baby. You can’t understand God-with-us if you don’t understand this baby.

You see, God’s light is the humility, the vulnerability. God’s light is the suffering and death on the cross. Whatever the Magi saw, whatever the centurion on Golgotha saw, look for that: God isn’t known in spite of vulnerability and humility, but because of it.

See this and be radiant, Isaiah says, and then your heart shall thrill and rejoice.

You can be overwhelmed with joy at God’s coming this way, like the Magi, when you see this is the only light that makes sense in the world’s darkness. That this vulnerable baby and this dying Jesus on a cross is  the true light that actually can conquer evil. God’s plan of healing starts with vulnerability and always remains vulnerable, to reveal how evil can be dismantled forever. Not with power and might, our human approach. But with radical, self-giving love, modeled by the Creator of the universe.

You see that when you see this vulnerable child. When you look at the cross, and then at the empty tomb. That’s where you find enlightenment, when you finally understand the power of power-releasing love, the light of self-giving that cannot be extinguished by the worst evil.

And then, Isaiah says, you will also become light for the world.

See and be radiant, Isaiah says. Go be light.

You might not get the attention of whole nations and kings, as Isaiah promises, but what if you imagined that God meant that promise for you? What if you trusted that the light of Christ shining in you, the enlightenment you have received in God’s epiphany that this path of vulnerable love is the only light that can pierce all darkness and end it, what if you trusted that God would make that light shine from you? From your eyes, your face, your words, your actions?

This is the enlightenment to pray for: that God helps you see not only God’s light in this baby, in all that Jesus is and does, but also God’s light in you until you, too, are burning brightly as a candle in the night. Showing God’s hope, God’s love. And lighting others. Until eventually the promised dawn of God’s healing and life brightens for all the creation.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The creation is good. You are good. That’s God’s word from the beginning, in Christ’s Incarnation, and now incarnated in you.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Christmas, year ABC
Texts: John 1:1-18 (with Genesis 1); Ephesians 1:3-14

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

In the beginning, God said, “This is good.”

The holy and eternal God spoke a Word into the chaos and called a universe into being. Incarnated a creation in the heart of the life of the Triune God, within God’s inner dance.

And on this planet God made water and seas, plants and creatures of all sizes, heavenly bodies to give light and hope, land and mountains and valleys and deserts and gifts abundant. Minerals, fruits and vegetables, sunlight and grass, beautiful breezes, all for God’s creatures to dance and play and thrive. And God said, “This is good.”

And God made human beings, too, in the beginning. In God’s own image these creatures were made. And God said, “This is good, too.” You are good. God said so.

You may not have heard that message often from people of faith.

Somehow that song of God was waylaid. People were told they were not good, not beloved, sinful from before birth. But in this time of celebration of the Incarnation of that creating Word of God, where God’s Word took on our human body, gave us a face and a voice to know God’s own Triune heart, this is the only song that makes sense: God said humanity was good in the beginning, and in taking on our own body, God said, “This is still good.”

“Did you not hear me in the creation?” God asks at Jesus’ incarnation. “I meant it then, and I still mean it. You are good enough for me. Good enough for my life to live within you, to be born as one of you.”

John says this Word in our flesh, whom we know as Jesus, reveals God’s true heart to us. Not our view of what God must think. God’s true heart. And God’s true heart is that you, and this whole creation, is and always will be good.

Paul sings this song with joy and gladness today.

Did you hear it? You were chosen in Christ before the foundation of the world, Paul sings, in the beginning, to be holy and blameless before God in love. You are destined for adoption as God’s own child, Paul delights.

Take a moment to absorb that: before the foundation of the world – you were chosen. Your destiny has always been to be God’s child. You are good, in God’s heart, from before you even were, you have always been God’s hope and dream. Your adoption has been God’s plan from the beginning, to draw you, along with the whole creation, into the Triune God’s heart and life.

I call you good, God says in Christ’s coming. Beloved. My child.

But you say, “what about sin? Am I not sinful?”

Of course you have sinned, and sin grips your life at times. You can and do feel stuck and unable to change. You can and do feel guilt and shame over thoughts, actions, inaction. But the Incarnation of Christ Jesus tells you this truth: sin is not your core identity. At your core, you are God’s beloved, God’s child. And God says, “you are good.”

Maybe as Lutherans we got waylaid by Martin’s own experience. Luther felt deep pain at his sinfulness. He had a voice inside him – and some of us hear this voice, too – a voice that said, “You’ll never be good enough for God, you deserve punishment now and in eternity.” And the Church repeated that Word to him. And when he discovered that the Word of God in Scripture said something completely different to him, it changed him forever, changed the Church. He found God’s grace, God’s welcome, God’s love. Whatever was broken and flawed in him was covered by God’s wholeness and completion. Nothing could separate him from God’s love in Christ.

Our problem is we’ve developed a theology that tries to get everyone to feel what Martin felt, the shame, the guilt, the fear, before declaring to them that God loves them anyway. That was a mistake. For centuries we’ve focused on making everyone believe their core identity is sin, that they are worthless and bad. And then somehow trying to move from that to saying, “But good news – God loves you!”

A friend of mine who’s struggled with pastors and other Christians telling her this for years put it this way to me recently: “It’s like a parent putting their child to bed, and every night giving them a kiss, tucking them in, and saying, ‘Good night. The most important thing you need to know is that I love you and you don’t deserve it.’” Even we human parents know that sounds like abuse. But how often have you been told that’s God’s view of you?

Jesus and Paul speak of sin, but not as your core identity.

They speak of it much more as we might use modern language of addiction. It’s not your true self, but it does stick to you. Sin can be life-long habits that are extremely hard to break. Addictive behaviors, where you keep repeating your sins over and over again, and seemingly can’t break free. Paul called this living by the way of the flesh, and somehow we misunderstood and said, “our very humanity is sin, and hateful, and bad.”

But that’s not the heart of God Jesus showed you. That’s not the rich grace Paul talks about in Ephesians today, a grace that gives us, gives me, forgiveness of sins, but in the context of being chosen from before the foundation of the world to be God’s beloved.

Do you sin? Yes. Are you stuck in sin at times, like an addiction? Yes. But sin is, as many wise believers have said for centuries, a disease. And disease is not the core reality. Disease is what you want to get rid of, cure, heal. So that you can be your true self.

And God’s Incarnation in our human life is exactly that healing.

In Greek, the word “salvation” also means “healing.” So Jesus says to you, always: “God loves you. I, God-with you, see you as beloved. I forgive all that needs it. Now come, follow me.” Entering into God’s life that Jesus reveals heals you so you can be who God truly sees in you.

And God means the whole world to know this joy. True salvation for God, true healing, happens when all God’s children hear “you are good, you are beloved,” and believe it and live into it. As Paul says today, this is mystery, but it is God’s will, and God’s good pleasure – it pleases God, Paul says – “to gather in Christ all things in heaven and all things in earth – all things – in the fullness of time.” To draw all things into God’s life of love, and heal all things, transforming suffering and pain, forgiving sin, giving hope. And God will only be satisfied when the whole creation is gathered in.

Good. That’s what God said in the beginning.

That’s what God said again in Christ’s Incarnation. That’s what God proved in the cross and resurrection of Jesus. And that’s God’s message to you today in this season of celebrating the Incarnation.

And God is still incarnate, but now in you. Because you are good enough for God to live in. Good now. Good always. So you incarnate God’s love in your life, and God’s love and life heals your sin, breaks you free when you’re stuck. To be what God says you are: good.

And then you get to join Paul’s song and reveal this hope and joy to the rest of God’s beloved creatures, and to God’s precious creation.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

Mary smuggled God, smuggled Love Incarnate, into the world in her own body. Now you can, too, until Love has brought all things into God’s heart.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eve of the Nativity of Our Lord
Texts: Luke 2:1-20; but using 1 Corinthians 13 and John 1 and Genesis 1 as the core.

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Love is patient. love is kind.

Love is not envious . . . or boastful . . . or arrogant . . . or rude.

Love does not insist on its own way; love isn’t irritable or resentful.

Love doesn’t rejoice in wrongdoing – love rejoices in the truth.

Love bears all things, trusts all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. (1 Corinthians 13:4-8a)

But that means:

Love is extremely vulnerable. Love gets taken advantage of.

Love will not fight fire with fire, so love will get burned.

Love will not use force against force, power against power, so love will be hurt, sometimes even killed.

So: if you are the Triune God, a being whose identity is relationship, whose breath is love within yourself, between Father, Son, and Spirit, whose life together is one and yet three, lived in a dance of love, and you long to share that love, what do you do?

You take a great risk and open a space within your life, your dance, your love, for a universe.

In creating all things, God made room within the Triune dance for a rich, diverse, ancient, and awesome beauty, room for stars and galaxies, creatures and dark matter, planets and comets, water and earth and fire and air, a universe beyond our imagining.

And God said, “this is good.” And the plan we have heard is that all along, from that first “this is good,” the Triune God hoped to draw this universe, this creation, even this tiny planet, into the life of God, into the dance.

Love, patient, kind, never-ending, would be the song the universe would sing in harmony with the Creator.

But in this, another great risk couldn’t be avoided.

For love to be what it is in God’s heart, it must be freely given and received, chosen and lived. If Love at its center will not force its own way, then this universe must be given freedom to be. To choose. To live.

Even if that universe, or even just one species on one tiny planet on the edge, decided not to love, not to join the song, not to enter the dance, this was the only way love as the Triune God lives it could be truly love for the creation, too. The dance is what it is, and must be freely chosen.

So, as witnesses of faith have spoken for millennia, have written in our holy Scripture, God continues to reach out to draw all creation, all things, into God’s heart, God’s life. To join the dance of love.

But – and this is really important for you tonight – what will God do with those who refuse the dance, who turn from the love? Who put up walls of hatred and division against their own people? Who build systems to crush some of God’s children while benefiting others? Who live lives that seem only interested in themselves, not in joining the dance of God, the dance of creation, the dance of love?

How could the Triune God, not willing to break the way of love, break through walls, and dismantle systems, and draw back into God’s heart a species that seemingly doesn’t want to be there?

Well, God does what we humans have learned to do in the same situation: God sneaks in.

Even in our broken world, life finds a way in where it seems blocked. People sneak things across borders, sneak people across. Things are hidden, brought in, and revealed. We learned this from God.

Because from the beginning of our human existence, when it was clear we were not going to love each other or God, God started sneaking in. Talking to individual people and revealing love and mercy. Abraham and Sarah, Moses, the prophets. God found ways to get the word into the world.

But tonight we rejoice at the fullness of God’s plan here. If we would not be drawn into God’s heart, God would have to enter our world in person. To show Love’s goodness by sharing our existence. To be a face, a voice, a Love we could follow back to God.

In short, as a wise theologian has said, “Mary smuggled God into the world in her own body.” ¹

Mary smuggled God in. And God, as we have said, is love. Patience, kindness, joy, endurance, hopefulness, truth, without ending. Mary smuggled the Triune Love into the world in her own body. And that changed everything.

Because if you are the Triune God who made all things, you know how those things work.

You know that single drops of water can wear great canyons out of the hardest stone. That a tiny seed stuck in the crack of the greatest wall will grow a plant that will break that wall apart. That if even the life and love of God were absorbed in the power of death, that heart of life and love would break death itself apart into nothing.

So, Mary smuggled God into the world in her own body. And suddenly love’s inside the wall, a part of the system, sneaking into hearts and minds, and changing them. Being that seed growing inside the wall and eventually breaking it apart, that bug in the system that eventually brings it to its knees. Even ending death.

In this baby, God, Love Incarnate, smuggled never-ending patience, kindness, joy, truth, endurance, hope, humility, into a world to plant those seeds. So that such love would grow and eventually win over this species of God’s children, and bring this planet into the great dance of the universe in God.

So, my friends, what do you want to do with this grace?

Our brother Paul of Tarsus heard the song and sang us the shape of this Triune Love in words we can understand. And even live. Patience. Kindness. Joy. No arrogance, no boasting. Just truth, and trust, and never-ending, enduring, love.

Might you be willing to smuggle God into the world in your own body yourself?

It’s risky, of course. Love is vulnerable, can be hurt. You might get taken advantage of. But your holy and Triune God says, “join the club – that’s what happens for me, and will for you.”

But in this mystery of God, when you smuggle God in, Love becomes Incarnate, embodied, in you, and starts cracking everything open in this world that seeks to crush it. You become part of God’s underground, God’s secret, hidden, work, that keeps popping up in all sorts of inconvenient ways for the powers that seek to stop it.

Until even this planet, and this species of God’s children, join the great dance of God’s Love.

Like Mary, all God needs from you is a yes.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

¹ A profound line borrowed with thanks from my dear friend, the Rev. Dr. Will Healy, whose wisdom has blessed me for years, and with thanks to God for his forty years of faithful ministry as he retires this Christmastide.

You are needed by God for the Incarnation of God’s love into the world, maybe in ways that seem small, but are still challenging to you: don’t be afraid, then. God is with you.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Advent, year A
Texts: Matthew 1:18-25; Isaiah 7:10-16

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Maybe . . . maybe you also need to take Joseph of Nazareth seriously. ¹

It’s not obvious that you should. Joseph is barely in the Gospels. Only Matthew gives any part of his point of view, and after the escape to Egypt, Joseph disappears. Except for when his twelve-year old son says, “you’re not my real father” after being absent for three days.

Joseph isn’t the one Mary’s first-born son called the greatest ever to be born of a woman. That’s the great forerunner of the Messiah, John the Baptist. Joseph isn’t asked to carry the Savior of the world in his own body, and become beloved to two millennia of people. That would be Mary, the Theotokos, the one who bears God into the world.

But Joseph is worthy of your serious attention, nonetheless.

Hear again the greeting from God’s angelic messenger in Joseph’s dream.

“Do not be afraid,” the angel said. Pretty common greeting. God’s angels often say this. Mary heard it at the beginning. So did the Bethlehem shepherds. Jesus essentially said “don’t be afraid” to John the Baptist last week. But Mary and John had critical jobs they were asked to do for God’s mission, big jobs that certainly could frighten. The shepherds were about to see a terrifying mass of angels in the sky.

What fear did the angel want Joseph to put aside? “Don’t be afraid to get married,” the angel said. That’s it. Go ahead and take Mary as your wife. It’s an anti-climactic mission compared to the others. Marry this woman, and don’t be afraid of that.

Joseph’s job in the Triune God’s entering human life is to be a husband. To provide for this mother and this child. To protect them, even from hateful kings. Over the years, the Church has called Joseph of Nazareth “the guardian.” That was the job.

And yet, and this is what you need to notice, he still was told not to be afraid of this calling.

That’s not as easy as it sounds.

Trusting God enough to follow God’s call, trusting that all will be well, even in your confusion or fear, isn’t easy. King Ahaz of Judah couldn’t do it. Or didn’t want to. As we heard a couple weeks ago, he was wicked, and didn’t worship the God of Israel. But Isaiah still told the king, as he trembled in fear under the threat of Assyria and anxiety over the northern alliance, “ask the God Who Is for a sign. Trust God will be with you. Don’t be afraid.” Ahaz refuses.

Isaiah gives him a sign anyway. “Immanuel,” Isaiah says. A child will be born with a name which means “God-with-us.” God is with you, Ahaz, even though you’re a terrible king and a wicked person. God will protect Judah, and before a child can be born and weaned, this political crisis will be over.

Joseph was also asked to set aside his fear and trust God.

Marriage wasn’t what he was really afraid of. He was engaged to Mary, after all.

But in light of Mary’s pregnancy, he faced shame and scandal and humiliation among his fellow townspeople. He faced the loss of his hopes and expectations that he would have a quiet life, working his trade, raising children to carry his name and his bloodline to the next generation. There was plenty to fear.

And even if they had more children, which Scripture says they did, he would never have a first-born son with Mary, and with this particular child he’d always be in a supporting role. A side player. Just there to protect and keep safe, and, we hope, to love. Mary would be called Mother of God. “Father of God” wasn’t Joseph’s call.

Joseph’s call diminished his expected role as father and head of the family, and, hardest of all, required him to believe Mary’s story about the pregnancy. That great pain hovered behind all this.

But of course, his role was critical. Mary needed to give birth safely. This child, God-with-us, would be vulnerable for years and needed to be fed and clothed and cared for and kept safe until he could do what he needed to do. A poor, single mother, without means of support, fending for herself and her child in the world is never a safe reality. Joseph’s role, small as it was, was absolutely necessary for God.

That’s what Joseph needed to trust. To set aside his fear about.

That’s why Joseph of Nazareth is so important to you.

Here’s what Joseph is for you: someone who does a critical job for God, only it’s one that’s barely noticed, that to the world looks unimportant, that might even cause embarrassment or sadness, that needs a change of expectations.

But it was also a job only Joseph could do. In this whole story, only one person was engaged to Mary, chosen for him by his family and hers. No one on this planet was in Joseph’s position to be guardian for her and for this baby.

Joseph asks you a simple question: what if you’re like me, and there’s something that only you are suited for, something God needs for only you to be and do as God’s Christ in the world? And what if it’s not very important? What if it seems insignificant? What if it means sacrifices for you? What if it’s being the person in your family and among your friends who guards the love of God, makes sure it’s revealed and lived in your life? Would you be willing to do that?

Now can you understand the angel’s greeting: “Don’t be afraid”?

God will ask you to do something today, or tomorrow, that will cost you in some way, but that only you can do. Maybe your expectations about how your life will go, or what you deserve will have to change. Maybe it will be inconvenient, or make you fear embarrassment, or be really challenging.

Maybe you won’t ever get an angel visit – or even an angel in a dream – though some certainly have experienced that, even to this day, and perhaps even in this community. But God gets the message through, always, and the call, always.

And always, God’s message to you is: “don’t be afraid to do this. To be this.” God’s message to Joseph (and to Ahaz, if he’d have listened), and to you, is “I am with you.” Emmanuel. My Spirit is in you, giving you courage and hope, to do what I need you to do.

And therefore, all will be well. Even if it’s sometimes hard to see that can be true.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

¹ Borrowed from the opening line of Vicar Bristol Reading’s powerful sermon from last week, 3 Advent A, with thanks. Go read it. Better yet, watch the video at the link below. – J. C.
https://www.mountolivechurch.org/2019/12/15/impossible/ 

You are filled with the Spirit, anointed by God, filled with wisdom, understanding, and all those gifts of the Spirit, so that you might live as Christ and bring about God’s reign of peace.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Advent, year A
Texts: Isaiah 11:1-10; Matthew 3:1-12; Romans 15:4-13

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Judah was in a terrible situation.

Now nearly three hundred years after David’s great kingdom split in two, the northern kingdom, Israel, was pressuring Judah to join an alliance to resist the great empire Assyria, an empire which eventually destroyed the northern kingdom. The heir to David’s throne, Ahaz, was wicked, didn’t worship the true God, even burned up one of his sons as a sacrifice, and wasn’t capable of leading well in this crisis. David’s family, the tree of Jesse, had seemingly come to an end, at least in terms of worthy kings. The tree looked about to be cut off, left as a stump.

But Isaiah declared a dead stump isn’t always dead. A shoot, a new growth, would grow out of that stump, a faithful and righteous ruler in David’s line was coming. One filled with God’s Spirit, like David. The spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of God, the spirit of delight, would be in this Davidic ruler.

And peace would come from this ruler’s reign. Natural enemies would live in peace and quietness together. The poor would receive justice. The meek would receive fair and equal treatment.

Now, Ahaz’ son, Hezekiah, was faithful and righteous, and a good ruler, and perhaps Judah saw him as the fulfillment of this prophetic promise. David’s tree wasn’t fully rotten and dead, after all.

But about 700 years later, the disciples of Jesus of Nazareth, risen from the dead after his brutal execution, did a bold thing with these words.

They said: Jesus is the shoot from the stump. The Davidic kingship had completely died out by Jesus’ day, a true dead stump. Jesus, of David’s family, was humiliated and crucified. Truly dead. Yet now he was and is alive, raised. Life from death, just like the green shoot.

And the Spirit of God was clearly upon him. If anyone had the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of God, the spirit of joy, it was Jesus.

Isaiah’s peaceable kingdom lived in him, too. He lived non-violently, preached peace, and even let his own people kill him rather than lift a weapon. He proclaimed God’s love and mercy, and showed it in his own suffering and death for the sake of the world. In Jesus they saw a glimpse of this new reign of God. Just as David and all his line were anointed God’s servants, literally God’s Christs, God’s Messiahs, so too was Jesus, they believed. It all made sense. So the Church boldly claimed these verses for the Christ, the Son of God, and so we still do.

But pay attention, because we’re about to do something even more wondrously audacious.

This morning we will take an eight-month old baby girl and claim this Messianic promise applies to her. That she’s our sign of God’s new life in a dying world.

We’ll first baptize her with water in the Triune Name, as Jesus commanded. That’s not as shocking.

But then we will lay hands on her head and pray, “Sustain her with the gift of your Holy Spirit: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence.” Yes. We will claim those words are hers.

We’ll then anoint her head with olive oil, just like King David himself. She will become an anointed one of God, just like King David. Just like Jesus. Literally a Messiah. A Christ.

We claim this whole prophecy for Isla today. As God’s anointed, she’ll be filled with God’s Spirit, be a messenger of peace, justice, mercy. Her life will be a sign, a glimpse, of God’s reign of peace and love.

This is a world changing claim we’re making on this little girl, saying, “She is now Christ for us and for this world, God’s anointed.” Little wonder we ask her parents to raise her in the faith, teach her about God, bring her to this worshipping community, give her God’s Scriptures. We need them to, because we also declare that our hope for Isla is that she’ll learn to “trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made, and work for justice and peace.” She’ll also need her sponsors’ prayers and support, and the love and prayers of all of you for what we claim on her.

But here’s a blessing for Isla: she’s not the only Christ. Not by a long shot.

I can’t begin to count how many heads I’ve laid my hands upon and prayed this prayer at baptism, how many heads I’ve laid my hands upon and prayed this prayer at confirmation. And every time we do the liturgy of affirmation of baptism, we pray this prophetic promise onto ourselves.

Isla joins you in the great community of the anointed ones of God, the Christs God sends into the world. Because, as John the Baptist said today, the baptism Jesus came to bring is a baptism of the Holy Spirit and of fire. Jesus’ Baptism is Pentecost.

At Pentecost, you see that Jesus is just the first step. Now the Spirit of God is upon you, too, and the fire of God’s breath and life in your heart, just as at the beginning. Not John’s destroying fire, but a purifying, cleansing fire that makes you new, and a soul-igniting fire that sends you out as Christ into the world yourself.

Now Isla joins the Pentecost people. We won’t send her out just yet. She needs to live under the promises and care of her parents and sponsors and of us, her community in faith.

But you, and I, we’re sent out now. What does that mean for you?

To claim Isaiah’s Messianic promise as your own means to trust that God’s Spirit is actually in you, as promised. As given in your baptism. It is to trust that you are, in fact, God’s Anointed.

Can you look into your heart and your life for signs that the Spirit of God has come to you? Moments where God’s wisdom gave you clarity, where understanding of who you were and what God was calling you to do came? Moments where you were able to give wise counsel to others as God’s anointed? Where you felt the might of God’s powerful love, the strength of grace and forgiveness within you?

Consider what you know now about God, God’s love, God’s call to you, Spirit-knowledge, that you didn’t know last year. Or ten years ago. Can you see moments when the Holy Spirit has lifted up your heart to God, filled you with joy and delight?

Sometimes you can’t see these gifts at the time, but you can look back on the path and notice what God has done. You can hold Isaiah’s words in your heart and keep watch. Now that you know you’ve had this claimed as a promise for you, you can see it better.

And then you can also live it better.

The Spirit comes, Isaiah says, and John the Baptist agrees, to turn God’s people into people of peace, and justice, and mercy. To change predators into compassionate companions. To create a world where those who are poor finally find justice, and those who are not powerful find equity and fairness.

That’s what the wisdom and understanding, the counsel and might, the knowledge and fear of God, the joy in God’s presence, is for: that you actually live as Christ Jesus lived, and bear this peaceable reign of God in your very body, your voice, your hands, your heart, your life.

Oh, but you say, that can’t be me. I’m really not that important.

I don’t think I have any of those attributes. I certainly can’t do all the things Jesus did. Changing all that’s wrong with this world seems just as impossible as, I don’t know, a baby playing with a venomous snake and being safe, or . . . a wolf napping with a lamb.

But did you not hear? Even if something is as dead as an old stump, God can bring a shoot of new life and nourish the world. Even if the Son of God is dead and gone on a cross, God can raise him up to a glorious life that pours healing into the world.

Stumps can still live. Death can’t stop God’s life. God’s Spirit can do all this in you, and more. And Paul promises you this today: the power of the Holy Spirit will fill you with joy, and peace, and an abundance of hope. Along with all of Isaiah’s promises.

Be audacious, as audacious as we are with little Isla today, and claim this as your truth. Because it already has been declared about you, the Holy Spirit has already been given you, and as we prayed to begin this liturgy, God is about to stir up your heart to live as God’s Christ.

So, as Jesus said last week, wake up. Things are going to start getting interesting for you. And the world is going to be saved along with it.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen