The world is unsafe for all the creation, so God enters it, risks all that is unsafe, to bring healing through the creation, as we learn to risk, to be unsafe, for the sake of all.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Eve of the Nativity of Our Lord
Text: Luke 2:1-20

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

This is not a safe world.

And you know it. We gather tonight and sing “all is calm, all is bright,” “glory to the newborn King,” knowing very little is calm, or bright, or glorious in our hearts, our society, our city, our culture, our world.

This is not a safe world, and you know it. Even worshipping here in this place tonight, something we missed so dearly last year, we can’t be one hundred percent sure we’re safe. We vaccinate, wear masks, keep distance. But even with these best protections, over two years of pandemic uncertainty have taught us any decisions to leave our homes for any reason are judgment calls with risks.

This is not a safe world, but God knows it, too. So God entered this unsafe world as one of us. The Incarnate God is already out there, in the unsafe world. That’s the wonder of this night.

And tonight that Incarnate One calls you out into the darkness and cold, into the noise and fear, into the sickness and pain. Where God-with-us truly is. Where God-with-us, Emmanuel, hopes you will be, too.

The birth of this child shows God’s willingness to risk everything, to be unsafe.

This is a story that begins at creation, a story of the eternal God who desperately loves this God-made world of beauty and life but is pained beyond belief at the destruction we, God’s own children, have made of it by our own actions, our own lives.

This is a story of the Triune God who answers that brokenness and destruction by risking everything to draw the creation back into God’s life and love. God enters an unsafe, cold, hateful, sick, broken world to transform it from within. To become completely vulnerable to it, rather than destroy it. To say to us, to all God’s children, “I’m in your hands,” hoping that from that vulnerable love we might also learn to love.

This child is meant to draw us into this story of God’s unsafe love for the world.

Babies are born without power and protection, at risk from any number of dangers. This baby, born into a world which already had no room for him, was at risk from the moment of his conception. In this birth God says, “I come to you without any power or might, so that you can hear me, know me, love me. Follow me.”

But beginning as a vulnerable, weak baby, God also is saying, “Know me, follow me . . . or kill me if you have to. Reject me. Walk away. But I will come to you in this way. It’s the only way to life for this world.”

Which means, on this holy night, you’re faced with a decision.

What will you do with this baby? You can love the story, the idea of a baby in a manger, and imagine this is all sweetness and light. But then you’ll go out into that unsafe world with little more than a lie. Because if this beauty, this quiet, this peace in here has nothing to do with reality out there, what’s the point? If God is actually doing something for this unsafe world in this birth, loving this story does nothing.

But if you can see that this vulnerability, this risk of God is the whole point, this baby becomes very important. Then you see that this baby is the beginning of God’s answer to this broken, cold, unsafe world.

Without power, without weapons, without defenses; without strategy, without plan of attack, without manipulation; this is how God enters the pain of this world. The Triune God’s wisdom is at once astounding and troubling, that the only way to make this world safe and whole is to risk being broken and unsafe, even though God has the power to make and unmake universes.

This baby is only the beginning of God’s answer to an unsafe world, though.

The cross and empty tomb continue that answer, showing how God’s life rises from sacrificial love. But this God-with-us, Emmanuel whose birth we celebrate, made it clear: you and I and God’s children are the rest of the answer. We are called to embrace God’s way of healing the world and no other.

God’s unsafe way is now offered as your way. It’s kind of easy to think you go into this world powerless and defenseless, since you’re not the eternal God of creation. You probably feel powerless often enough. But you and I still have power, still cling to our self-built protections, build barriers, try to pretend we can be safe. There’s enough risk in following God’s unsafe path that we need to hear what Christ taught us in his words, in this birth, in that death and resurrection.

That the only way to healing, to light, to warmth, to wholeness, to peace, is for you to enter the pain, the darkness, the cold, the brokenness, the struggle and be willing to put yourself wholly into it. For me to do that. For all who hear God’s voice to do that. In that risking, the world will be healed.

God’s path goes straight into the unsafe.

But it’s the only way for God. So it can be the only way for us.

So keep your eyes tonight on this baby who is the God of all creation, heaven and earth contained in such a little space, such a vulnerable place. This baby means God is already walking in this unsafe world, walking the path Christ now calls you to. So you are never alone on this path, even when it leads into danger and cold, into unsafe places.

And if you are with such a God on this path, then you are also given the courage and strength to risk as God has risked and be a part of God’s healing of all.

And that is truly tidings of comfort and joy.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Joy is found both in receiving God’s promised restoration and healing and in being a part of that healing by repenting as John calls.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

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

Today is Gaudete Sunday – “Rejoice” Sunday.

Historically today’s Introit in Western Christianity was Paul’s words to the Philippians we just heard: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice!” In the current lectionary, Zephaniah joins Paul today and urges the faithful to “rejoice and exult with all your heart,” for God has come to bring them hope and healing. Today we pause in our Advent waiting to rejoice in what God has done and is doing in Christ for the world.

Two things make this challenging. First, John’s second appearance in two weeks is not the most joyful Gospel reading one could add to the others’ urgings of joy.

But, more deeply, if you listened carefully to Zephaniah, you might have grasped that perhaps you’re not the one being comforted. That someone else needs Zephaniah in ways you do not.

Zephaniah’s call for rejoicing is specifically for those oppressed, outcast.

“I will remove disaster from you,” God declares, “and I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. I will bring you home.”

From my privileged place in this culture, I know I’m not the one offered joy here. But there are many for whom this would be good news. If God really will deal with oppressors and restore the outcast, then for our neighbors of color who deal with systemic oppression daily, that’s something to hear, maybe even find hope in. For our indigenous neighbors whose voices are constantly ignored in our society and who’ve been systemically excluded, marginalized, their culture and lives and homes intentionally demolished for four centuries, perhaps God’s promise brings joy. If they see God is doing it.

Many, many more, including some here today, know oppression and marginalization. Rejoice, then, Zephaniah proclaims: God is with you.

But if you’re more like me, you might find yourself elsewhere in today’s readings.

Some of us are more at home on the Jordan’s banks today.

Whatever you feel about John’s harsh tone and unflinching words, people flocked to him. Maybe they saw in him the signs of a true prophet of Israel. Maybe, like some of us, they recognized a need to find their way back to God.

But John insists that repentance – turning to God – isn’t real if it doesn’t bear fruit worthy of it. Something visible, tangible, effective in the world. So we join the earnest seekers by the river – setting aside Rejoice Sunday for now – and ask John, “what does that look like? What should we do?”

John gives very practical and world-changing answers.

He answers by implying a question, one he hopes you and I will ask ourselves.

Do you have two coats? John asks. Well, you can’t wear both at once, and some have no coats. Give one of yours to one of them.

Do you have enough food? John asks. More than enough? Well, you can’t eat all you have, and some have no food. Give some of your food to some of them.

John speaks directly to those of us who are not in need, who often realize one of our biggest problems is we’ve accumulated too much and need to simplify. Who look at our organics bin at so much more food than we need just thrown out after sitting in our refrigerators too long.

John gives a blueprint for a society where all are blessed to have enough to eat, to wear, to be safe and healthy. But the blueprint is only followed when we who have far more than enough find the satisfying grace of enough.

To the inquiring tax collectors and soldiers, John gives another answer deeply relevant to our lives.

John’s replies to these two groups are relatively simple for them to understand. Tax collectors are asked to do their jobs without cheating others, effectively stealing from their neighbors. The soldiers are asked not to threaten others and steal from them, and to be satisfied with their pay.

Here John also speaks directly to those of us who find it difficult to live ethically in our complex world. Our changes are much more complicated and challenging than theirs, but just as critical. Live ethically and compassionately in all your behavior, John says, lest you steal from your neighbor. All our participation in the harmful systems of our world, whether it’s what and where we buy, how we vote, whether we work for change that benefits others, to all of this John says, “stop doing things that steal from others, that threaten others, that hurt your neighbor.”

John gives a blueprint for a society where all are blessed with justice and true peace, where all livelihoods are respected and cared for by all, where all our life choices are made for the common good. But the blueprint is only followed when we who are involved in these systems to our benefit discern and change our behaviors for the sake of our neighbor.

After John, for many of us, Rejoice Sunday feels anything but.

It feels that the gift of a day to simply rejoice in God’s goodness for us is more than some of us can ask. But that is not true. Paul’s encouragement clearly is for all, especially any who have anxiety. “Don’t worry about anything,” Paul says. Rejoice in God. That’s for you, too.

But Luke thinks even John’s whole episode today is reason for joy for you and me. After all this challenging encounter that brings a lot of us anxiety over our own lives and behavior, Luke adds a tagline none of the other Evangelists say: “So, with many other exhortations,” Luke writes, “John proclaimed the good news to the people.”

John’s preaching is Good News. Gospel. Good news for the fearful middle class people on the riverbank. Good news for the cheating tax collector and the extorting soldier.

That’s the secret of Advent you want to find today.

Somehow, all of this blueprint for God’s reign, this asking a great deal of you and me is Good News. Gospel.

It’s definitely good news for others when we live John’s fruits. When you are satisfied with enough and share all the rest, you fulfill Zephaniah’s promise. Those in deep need can rejoice because Christ has changed you from a hoarder into a joyful fellow participant in God’s abundance for all. Those who suffer from oppression and injustice can rejoice in God’s Gospel when you carefully change your behaviors that harm your neighbors. When people like us bear such fruit it is Good News to many.

But it is also Good News, Gospel, for you. Living a life sharing God’s abundance is a life of joy and hope for you. Living a life ethically and compassionately is a life of joy and hope for you.

Look for that joy. Luke’s let you in on the secret that living as John asks, as Christ models and teaches, is the surest way of living joy and hope you will ever know. It is Good News. Gospel.

 And it will certainly bring joy and hope to many, many more through you.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

The One who began a good work in you will complete it in time, for your sake, and the sake of the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Advent, year C
Texts: Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6; Malachi 3:1-4

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

Advent’s messages are very familiar to us. But they’re really hard to sort out.

Every year John the Baptist preaches on two Advent Sundays, and we know the message by heart: Repent. Prepare for God’s coming. Then the Evangelists always link John back to Isaiah: straight paths in the wilderness, flattened mountains and filled-up valleys, rough roads made smooth. Today, we’re also told we’ll be refined, purified, like ore.

These are powerful yearly messages, but we have multiple difficulties with them. It’s hard to know what we’re preparing for, what it will mean to our lives, and who’s doing what. And they’re pretty threatening sounding, too. They make Advent feel daunting, even dispiriting.

So first, which coming of Christ are we preparing for?

Our celebration of Christmas? The calendar placement of these four weeks makes it feel that way. But putting up a Christmas tree and getting an Advent wreath doesn’t require metaphors of massive landscaping projects or being heated in a nearly 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit refining forge.

Are we preparing for Christ’s coming at the end of time? If we trust Jesus, and we do, he told us repeatedly our preparation for that time is to be ready always. We’re not to worry about when it will happen, just be ready every day, faithful in our service. Again, it doesn’t sound comparable to smashing mountains to sea level.

Are we preparing for Christ to come into our lives right now? Well, John’s call to “prepare” and “repent” seems to fit that coming best. So does refining ore and re-ordering wilderness. Is your heart ready for Christ to dwell within you? Advent asks. Do you need cleaning up, refining, purifying? Do you need things rooted out of your heart’s wilderness, your rough ways smoothed out? John and the prophets make the most sense for our lives right now.

But who actually works this Advent preparation we’re hearing about?

John seems to think we do. He says directly, “Repent. Prepare.” As if you should do that.

But gold ore doesn’t refine itself. Malachi says God’s Messiah will put you through fire and refine you. And mountains and valleys don’t drive the big machines. Isaiah sounds like someone else is doing it: every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain and hill be made low. Like it’s not our work.

Clearly, we’re called to be changed for Christ’s coming into our hearts and lives. But much of today’s Advent calling doesn’t seem like something we can do for ourselves.

And we know we have failures to account for, things in us that aren’t God-pleasing. We know we’re not always like Christ. But all of these calls to prepare and repent, and the frightening thoughts of fiery furnaces and road graders can fill us with dread and shame that we’re not enough for God and never will be.

Thank God for Paul’s gift today.

In this beautiful letter to the congregation he unabashedly loves, Paul begins with pure joy: “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you.”

The Philippians weren’t perfect. They were as flawed as the people of Galatia or Corinth or Rome, whom Paul also loved. But when Paul prays for Lydia and her people, it all begins with joy.

That’s the overwhelming promise of Scripture, and Paul’s Advent gift to you: God’s first and constant thought of you is joy. There will be time to talk about challenging things, even for the Philippians in this letter. But this is your beginning and constant truth: you are beloved to God and bring joy to the heart of God.

You probably need refining, purifying. But you are precious gold. You probably need some landscaping work. But God created your landscape and sees beauty and promise in it.

And here’s the next gift: the very next line.

Paul says, “I am confident of this, that the One who began a good work in you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”

Can you hear that? God in Christ has already begun this good work in you, from your baptism till now. Christ is already living in your heart, making adjustments, doing remodeling, cooking away impurities. And Paul is confident that the refining, the landscaping, will all be completed by deadline.

This is Advent’s joy: whatever preparation your heart needs for Christ to live in you, the Triune God is already doing it, and Christ has already come to you. Even your repentance, turning to God from your sin into the life of God’s love, is empowered by God’s Spirit living in you.

Hold this promise: God in Christ has begun a good work in you and will complete it.

What remains is to trust that the Refiner sees your precious metal and is working to bring it out with love and gentle, firm correction. It might even get pretty hot inside as Christ refines you. But the Artisan won’t destroy what is beloved in the process.

What remains is to trust that the Landscaper sees your potential with some grading or shifting of priorities, loves who you are and what you can be, and carefully crafts you into Christ for the world. It might feel like the Spirit’s driving a bulldozer sometimes. But this Operator has a deft, skilled touch, and will leave the garden better than before.

And remember that God in Christ has a lot more at stake than just you. The Triune God is trying to refine the precious metal of this creation, re-shape the landscape of this world, one child of God at a time. You. And me. And on and on.

This is how the inner beauty God sees in creation will finally be seen by all and all nations will be healed. That’s when Advent’s true work will be finished, when “all flesh sees the salvation of God.”

In the name of Jesus.  Amen