Blinding Light Or Illuminating Light?
Illustration
Stories
Object:
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Blinding Light or Illuminating Light?"
Shining Moments: "Joseph, Our Brother"
Good Stories: "Coloring a Faint Spirit Red" by Dallas A. Brauninger
"The Little Girl Who Didn't Like Christmas Presents" by John Sumwalt
Scrap Pile: "Turn On the Lights" by Paul E. Flesner
What's Up This Week
In our Gospel reading this week, John the Baptist testifies to the coming of the true Light of the World... and this edition of StoryShare offers some intriguing illustrations of what that means for us. In A Story to Live By Michael Ruffin ponders whether that Light blinds us or illuminates our path, while in the Scrap Pile Paul Flesner suggests that we are God's advance men and that we need to "turn on the lights" by reflecting God's Light in every aspect of our lives. And if you're preaching on this week's Isaiah passage, you'll find two charming stories highlighting different aspects of God's all-encompassing love.
A Story to Live By
Blinding Light or Illuminating Light?
He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
John 1:7-9
The Day of the Triffids is not typical Christmas fare; it's a science fiction film from the early 1960s. As the movie opens, a sailor is in a London hospital, his eyes completely covered by heavy bandages because he is recovering from eye surgery. It is sometime after dark. Radio news reports herald what everyone is seeing anyway: a spectacularly beautiful meteor shower. The hospital staff members marvel with the appropriate "oohs" and "ahs" as they witness the event. Sadly (or so it seems), the sailor can see none of it. Come the next morning, however, things have changed. The sailor awakens to the day that is supposed to bring the removal of his bandages and, hopefully, the restoration of his vision. But no one comes to remove the bandages. Finally, he removes them himself, only to discover that he is the only person around who can see. Everyone who had gazed on the meteor shower is blind; he, the lone sightless one the night before, is the only one who can see!
Light is supposed to help us see. In that old sci-fi film, the light caused blindness. Here between the Advents, between the first and second comings of Jesus Christ, we Christians are -- like John the Baptist -- to bear testimony to the light of the world with our lives and with our words. Having the servant mind of Christ become more and more our mind causes us to bear ever more accurate witness about who Jesus Christ really is. We dare not let our testimony become motivated by pride and self-centeredness, because then the light we offer might result in blindness rather than illumination.
(From Living Between the Advents by Michael Ruffin)
Shining Moments
Joseph, Our Brother
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Joseph Bernardin was the Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in Chicago. He became a bishop when he was only 38. After several years he became an archbishop, and became a cardinal six months later.
His father, a stonecutter, died when Joseph was six, and Joseph's mother became a seamstress. Joseph was proud that his mother made his first cassock.
Joseph grew to have a period of self-indulgence. One day he realized his mistake and gave away everything that would hinder his spiritual journey. He adopted new habits and began early morning devotions daily at 5 a.m.
In his first address to Chicago's priests, Joseph said, "We will work and play together, fast and pray together, mourn and rejoice together, despair and hope together, dispute and be reconciled together. You will know me as a friend, fellow priest, and bishop. You will also know that I love you. For I am Joseph -- your brother."
Cardinal Joseph Bernardin always addressed the people with "I am Joseph, your brother." It became his signature statement. Indeed, Joseph was like a brother to many: to priests, parishioners, church leaders, and the unchurched. He was not pretentious; he was direct. He was known for his honesty, forthrightness, and integrity.
He was also known for his faith in times of adversity. One fateful day, adversity came in the form of a diagnosis: Joseph had cancer. Joseph immediately sought out people; he refused to be cut off from people and would continue his ministry.
When he would go to Loyola University's Cancer Center, he politely refused the private entrance. Joseph, our brother, took the main entrance. While taking treatments, Joseph shared his pain, his fears, his joy, his love for his God with others in the Center. Joseph, our brother, prayed with them; Joseph, our brother, cried with them.
Seventeen months after his diagnosis -- three months since he learned it was inoperable -- Joseph succumbed to cancer. He died at 68, on his mother's 92nd birthday.
His funeral was a fitting tribute to Joseph. Flowers, cards, and tears were everywhere. And in the midst of it all stood Jewish memorial candles. A fitting tribute to a brother... a fitting tribute to one who prayed with others.
May Joseph, our brother, rest in peace.
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series II, Cycle B] by Constance Berg)
Good Stories
Coloring a Faint Spirit Red
by Dallas A. Brauninger
He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted... to comfort all who mourn... to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning...
Isaiah 61:1b, 2c, 3b
Strain and the absence of hope walled any smile from Karen McCarthy's face. When the young mother first brought her son to the swimming pool, her new neighbor's stiff, flat voice had haunted Jan. Karen agreed to bring Billy swimming when Jan offered to take turns holding him on the blue float board. Jan had a second motive. Maybe a few laps in the water would also relieve her friend's daily cresting of tension.
The cerebral palsy that caused the little boy's body to stiffen and flop had damaged most of his brain. The eight-year-old was incapable of speaking or walking. He had an aversion to touch and could barely see. However, he could hear and he could splash at the water.
Billy loved the relaxing water. Each time he kicked and splashed, Jan sang him a praise. She modulated her voice in non-stop talk, slipping into his ear an occasional quiet "I love you, Billy." She soon learned their pretending to be a tugboat, complete with toot-toot sound effects, unlocked his laugh. Gradually, the pool also released his mother's smile.
The daily swim became a habit that winter. As Jan gained Karen's trust, she often left the blue board by the side of the pool and supported Billy with her arms. After a time, the child's body answered by relaxing into her strength.
The three would play in the water until Billy's lips turned blue. Then his mother rolled her son into a beach towel before diapering and dressing him. One cool afternoon, Jan suggested they take turns changing back into their street clothes in the locker room. Jan could watch the child sitting on the pool chair across from her. "I'll just slip on his socks and tennies while you're getting dressed," she said.
Billy accepted her jostling his feet into the socks and shoes. Then he grew aware of his mother's absence. The last thing Jan wanted was tears. With calm talk, forgetting that Billy did not like to be touched, she lifted him onto her lap. His still swim-softened body also forgot. Billy leaned into her relaxed muscles.
"Well, Billy," Karen's surprised voice interrupted. "You look like you're enjoying that."
Karen reminded Jan that the child ordinarily stiffened at touch.
"Yes," Jan said, "I remembered that as I was lifting him into my arms. I guess we were both so relaxed we forgot."
Dallas A. Brauninger, a cum laude graduate of Albion College, holds M.Div. and honorary D.Div. degrees from Chicago Theological Seminary. She is the author of numerous CSS preaching and worship resources, including 3-year series on Preaching the Parables, Preaching the Miracles, and Lectionary Worship Aids. Brauninger is co-pastor with her husband Robert of a United Church of Christ congregation in Burwell, Nebraska. She has been honored by her denomination for outstanding ministry to persons with disabilities and their families, and she has been the editor of That All May Worship And Serve, the United Church of Christ's national disabilities ministry newsletter.
The Little Girl Who Didn't Like Christmas Presents
by John Sumwalt
...the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners...
Isaiah 61:1b
Once upon a time there was a little girl who didn't like to get Christmas presents. Her name was Marcie. Every year when it came time to open the presents under the Christmas tree, Marcie would go to her room and stay there until all of the presents were unwrapped and put away.
One year for Christmas Santa Claus brought Marcie a doll buggy and a baby doll that said "I love you" when you squeezed it. It was a wonderful gift, but of course Marcie didn't want it. She wouldn't even pick it up. She just went to her room and left the poor baby doll lying all alone under the tree.
Everyone in Marcie's family was getting pretty tired of her attitude toward presents. So finally, on Christmas Day after dinner, her grandmother took her aside for a heart-to-heart talk. She said, "Marcie, come here and sit on my lap." (Marcie's grandmother had a big, comfortable lap.) "Now Marcie," she said, "tell me why you don't like to get presents."
Marcie didn't say anything at first. She just snuggled in close to her grandmother until she was warm and cozy. Then she said, "Because I'm not good enough."
Marcie's grandmother was surprised. "Whatever made you think a thing like that?"
"Well," Marcie said, "people are always telling me to be good so that Santa Claus will come. And you know, Grandma, as hard as I try, I can't always be good. So I don't deserve any presents."
Marcie's grandmother smiled and gave her a big hug. And then she told her something that Marcie would never forget. "Marcie, people don't give you presents because you've been good. They give you presents because they love you. We all love you, Marcie, and we would give you presents no matter how good or bad you might have been."
Marcie smiled and gave her grandmother a big kiss. Then she climbed down from her grandmother's comfortable lap, went straight to the Christmas tree, picked up her baby doll, and gave it a squeeze. And do you know what the baby doll said?
Scrap Pile
Turn On the Lights
by Paul E. Flesner
John 1:6-8, 19-28
Many people don't realize the extent of the preparations involved when the President of the United States makes a visit to a local community. A raft of Secret Service personnel check out every building along the route he will travel and near the place he will be appearing. They go over each building from roof to basement with a fine-tooth comb in their efforts to prepare for his safety. We often refer to them as "advance persons." They work invisibly behind the scenes to make sure that everything is ready for the big event that is about to take place.
In today's Gospel we encounter such an "advance man." However, he's not a member of the Secret Service. He's not preparing for a visit from a head of state. He's not checking out parade routes to assure their safety. He is telling us to get ready for a visit from the most important person in human history. This man's name is John the Baptist, and we are told today that "he came as a witness to testify to the light."
That statement may not seem to mean as much 2,000 years later as it did back then. That's because we already know the ending to the story, which they didn't. Our world has already been visited by the Holy One from God. We don't need an "advance person" to prepare the way like they did. Or do we still need to listen to John the Baptist? Perhaps there is something in his message that we are taking for granted. That is a problem with the familiar -- we fall into a sense of complacency. As a result, Christmas can become simply a "festival of the familiar" rather than an "encounter with the Holy One."
Two words in this passage stand out: "witness" and "light." Last week we heard John call for repentance and change. Today we hear him calling us to prepare for Christmas by building a straight road in the desert for God to travel on. You'd think John had been watching a crew rebuild one of our streets rather than quoting the prophet Isaiah. "Fill up the low spots. Knock the tops off of the high spots. Level it out. Make it straight and smooth."
What does Isaiah say is the purpose of all this construction? "So that the glory of the Lord may be revealed for all the world to see!" Folks, John's message about Christmas is that God wants every person in the entire world to know the power and glory of God. In his oratorio Messiah, George Frederic Handel majestically captures these words of Isaiah in music: "And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it."
Getting ready for Christmas is not about decorated trees or office parties or even family gatherings. It is about a mission that God has placed upon every one of us: to open up a path to God for others who are in need of God's love and grace. If we really "hear" that, it will have an effect on both our preparation for and celebration of Christmas. John is telling us that God expects us to do something as a result of what God did at Christmas.
While that may seem like a trite statement, I have observed that there are any number of folks in our pews who have what I call an "armchair faith." To be sure, they come to church. But they seem to want to be spoon-fed, and after they leave the church building it's the end of it until the next time they come.
Our relationship to God is not a "consumer faith" in which everything is neatly packaged for us and all we have to do is pick it off the shelf when we need it. Nor is faith a "let George do it" affair in which we allow a dedicated few to burn themselves out doing the tasks which belong to all of us. John is saying that Christmas road-building requires the active involvement of every one of us year-round. He is saying we are to build these roads everywhere -- into our jobs, our schools, our communities, our neighborhoods -- anywhere and everywhere we go!
The second word that stands out is "light." I recently read about an experimental generator that runs on natural gas and can be set up in a home to provide for almost all of its electrical needs. It made me realize that we have come a long way technologically in providing light to see by. However, as I read the same newspapers and hear about shootings in schools and messy divorces and people dying of drug overdoses, I also realized that technology cannot generate light for our hearts and souls.
If actions speak louder than words (and they do), then at Christmas God has virtually shouted to the world that God cares enough to enter the place we live and bring light to the dark spots in our lives that we cannot seem to light on our own. Christmas light is about an end to isolation and despair that even our best efforts can't seem to fix. Christmas is about hope when the stage of life is the darkest. Christmas is about a future that God has provided for eternity when death appears to be the final word in life.
We need to hear this message again and again. Somehow the passage of time takes a subtle toll on our spirits. Because it happens little by little, even to the most dedicated people, we usually don't notice it. Then one day it suddenly gets dark and we wonder what happened.
Today we have heard from the "advance man." He reminds us that God has turned on the brightest light in the universe -- brighter than any sun or star or gas-powered electric generator. He also reminds us that we are the advance people of this generation. We are to tell everyone who will listen that the light has already come. To paraphrase John's Advent message of "Prepare the way of the Lord" for our times: "Turn on the lights."
Paul E. Flesner has served for nearly two decades as the pastor of Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Prospect Heights, Illinois. He is a graduate of Carthage College and Luther Seminary. This sermon appears in Sermons For The Gospel Readings [Series I, Cycle B].
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
**********************************************
StoryShare, December 11, 2005, issue.
Copyright 2005 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45802.
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Blinding Light or Illuminating Light?"
Shining Moments: "Joseph, Our Brother"
Good Stories: "Coloring a Faint Spirit Red" by Dallas A. Brauninger
"The Little Girl Who Didn't Like Christmas Presents" by John Sumwalt
Scrap Pile: "Turn On the Lights" by Paul E. Flesner
What's Up This Week
In our Gospel reading this week, John the Baptist testifies to the coming of the true Light of the World... and this edition of StoryShare offers some intriguing illustrations of what that means for us. In A Story to Live By Michael Ruffin ponders whether that Light blinds us or illuminates our path, while in the Scrap Pile Paul Flesner suggests that we are God's advance men and that we need to "turn on the lights" by reflecting God's Light in every aspect of our lives. And if you're preaching on this week's Isaiah passage, you'll find two charming stories highlighting different aspects of God's all-encompassing love.
A Story to Live By
Blinding Light or Illuminating Light?
He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
John 1:7-9
The Day of the Triffids is not typical Christmas fare; it's a science fiction film from the early 1960s. As the movie opens, a sailor is in a London hospital, his eyes completely covered by heavy bandages because he is recovering from eye surgery. It is sometime after dark. Radio news reports herald what everyone is seeing anyway: a spectacularly beautiful meteor shower. The hospital staff members marvel with the appropriate "oohs" and "ahs" as they witness the event. Sadly (or so it seems), the sailor can see none of it. Come the next morning, however, things have changed. The sailor awakens to the day that is supposed to bring the removal of his bandages and, hopefully, the restoration of his vision. But no one comes to remove the bandages. Finally, he removes them himself, only to discover that he is the only person around who can see. Everyone who had gazed on the meteor shower is blind; he, the lone sightless one the night before, is the only one who can see!
Light is supposed to help us see. In that old sci-fi film, the light caused blindness. Here between the Advents, between the first and second comings of Jesus Christ, we Christians are -- like John the Baptist -- to bear testimony to the light of the world with our lives and with our words. Having the servant mind of Christ become more and more our mind causes us to bear ever more accurate witness about who Jesus Christ really is. We dare not let our testimony become motivated by pride and self-centeredness, because then the light we offer might result in blindness rather than illumination.
(From Living Between the Advents by Michael Ruffin)
Shining Moments
Joseph, Our Brother
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Joseph Bernardin was the Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in Chicago. He became a bishop when he was only 38. After several years he became an archbishop, and became a cardinal six months later.
His father, a stonecutter, died when Joseph was six, and Joseph's mother became a seamstress. Joseph was proud that his mother made his first cassock.
Joseph grew to have a period of self-indulgence. One day he realized his mistake and gave away everything that would hinder his spiritual journey. He adopted new habits and began early morning devotions daily at 5 a.m.
In his first address to Chicago's priests, Joseph said, "We will work and play together, fast and pray together, mourn and rejoice together, despair and hope together, dispute and be reconciled together. You will know me as a friend, fellow priest, and bishop. You will also know that I love you. For I am Joseph -- your brother."
Cardinal Joseph Bernardin always addressed the people with "I am Joseph, your brother." It became his signature statement. Indeed, Joseph was like a brother to many: to priests, parishioners, church leaders, and the unchurched. He was not pretentious; he was direct. He was known for his honesty, forthrightness, and integrity.
He was also known for his faith in times of adversity. One fateful day, adversity came in the form of a diagnosis: Joseph had cancer. Joseph immediately sought out people; he refused to be cut off from people and would continue his ministry.
When he would go to Loyola University's Cancer Center, he politely refused the private entrance. Joseph, our brother, took the main entrance. While taking treatments, Joseph shared his pain, his fears, his joy, his love for his God with others in the Center. Joseph, our brother, prayed with them; Joseph, our brother, cried with them.
Seventeen months after his diagnosis -- three months since he learned it was inoperable -- Joseph succumbed to cancer. He died at 68, on his mother's 92nd birthday.
His funeral was a fitting tribute to Joseph. Flowers, cards, and tears were everywhere. And in the midst of it all stood Jewish memorial candles. A fitting tribute to a brother... a fitting tribute to one who prayed with others.
May Joseph, our brother, rest in peace.
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series II, Cycle B] by Constance Berg)
Good Stories
Coloring a Faint Spirit Red
by Dallas A. Brauninger
He has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted... to comfort all who mourn... to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning...
Isaiah 61:1b, 2c, 3b
Strain and the absence of hope walled any smile from Karen McCarthy's face. When the young mother first brought her son to the swimming pool, her new neighbor's stiff, flat voice had haunted Jan. Karen agreed to bring Billy swimming when Jan offered to take turns holding him on the blue float board. Jan had a second motive. Maybe a few laps in the water would also relieve her friend's daily cresting of tension.
The cerebral palsy that caused the little boy's body to stiffen and flop had damaged most of his brain. The eight-year-old was incapable of speaking or walking. He had an aversion to touch and could barely see. However, he could hear and he could splash at the water.
Billy loved the relaxing water. Each time he kicked and splashed, Jan sang him a praise. She modulated her voice in non-stop talk, slipping into his ear an occasional quiet "I love you, Billy." She soon learned their pretending to be a tugboat, complete with toot-toot sound effects, unlocked his laugh. Gradually, the pool also released his mother's smile.
The daily swim became a habit that winter. As Jan gained Karen's trust, she often left the blue board by the side of the pool and supported Billy with her arms. After a time, the child's body answered by relaxing into her strength.
The three would play in the water until Billy's lips turned blue. Then his mother rolled her son into a beach towel before diapering and dressing him. One cool afternoon, Jan suggested they take turns changing back into their street clothes in the locker room. Jan could watch the child sitting on the pool chair across from her. "I'll just slip on his socks and tennies while you're getting dressed," she said.
Billy accepted her jostling his feet into the socks and shoes. Then he grew aware of his mother's absence. The last thing Jan wanted was tears. With calm talk, forgetting that Billy did not like to be touched, she lifted him onto her lap. His still swim-softened body also forgot. Billy leaned into her relaxed muscles.
"Well, Billy," Karen's surprised voice interrupted. "You look like you're enjoying that."
Karen reminded Jan that the child ordinarily stiffened at touch.
"Yes," Jan said, "I remembered that as I was lifting him into my arms. I guess we were both so relaxed we forgot."
Dallas A. Brauninger, a cum laude graduate of Albion College, holds M.Div. and honorary D.Div. degrees from Chicago Theological Seminary. She is the author of numerous CSS preaching and worship resources, including 3-year series on Preaching the Parables, Preaching the Miracles, and Lectionary Worship Aids. Brauninger is co-pastor with her husband Robert of a United Church of Christ congregation in Burwell, Nebraska. She has been honored by her denomination for outstanding ministry to persons with disabilities and their families, and she has been the editor of That All May Worship And Serve, the United Church of Christ's national disabilities ministry newsletter.
The Little Girl Who Didn't Like Christmas Presents
by John Sumwalt
...the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners...
Isaiah 61:1b
Once upon a time there was a little girl who didn't like to get Christmas presents. Her name was Marcie. Every year when it came time to open the presents under the Christmas tree, Marcie would go to her room and stay there until all of the presents were unwrapped and put away.
One year for Christmas Santa Claus brought Marcie a doll buggy and a baby doll that said "I love you" when you squeezed it. It was a wonderful gift, but of course Marcie didn't want it. She wouldn't even pick it up. She just went to her room and left the poor baby doll lying all alone under the tree.
Everyone in Marcie's family was getting pretty tired of her attitude toward presents. So finally, on Christmas Day after dinner, her grandmother took her aside for a heart-to-heart talk. She said, "Marcie, come here and sit on my lap." (Marcie's grandmother had a big, comfortable lap.) "Now Marcie," she said, "tell me why you don't like to get presents."
Marcie didn't say anything at first. She just snuggled in close to her grandmother until she was warm and cozy. Then she said, "Because I'm not good enough."
Marcie's grandmother was surprised. "Whatever made you think a thing like that?"
"Well," Marcie said, "people are always telling me to be good so that Santa Claus will come. And you know, Grandma, as hard as I try, I can't always be good. So I don't deserve any presents."
Marcie's grandmother smiled and gave her a big hug. And then she told her something that Marcie would never forget. "Marcie, people don't give you presents because you've been good. They give you presents because they love you. We all love you, Marcie, and we would give you presents no matter how good or bad you might have been."
Marcie smiled and gave her grandmother a big kiss. Then she climbed down from her grandmother's comfortable lap, went straight to the Christmas tree, picked up her baby doll, and gave it a squeeze. And do you know what the baby doll said?
Scrap Pile
Turn On the Lights
by Paul E. Flesner
John 1:6-8, 19-28
Many people don't realize the extent of the preparations involved when the President of the United States makes a visit to a local community. A raft of Secret Service personnel check out every building along the route he will travel and near the place he will be appearing. They go over each building from roof to basement with a fine-tooth comb in their efforts to prepare for his safety. We often refer to them as "advance persons." They work invisibly behind the scenes to make sure that everything is ready for the big event that is about to take place.
In today's Gospel we encounter such an "advance man." However, he's not a member of the Secret Service. He's not preparing for a visit from a head of state. He's not checking out parade routes to assure their safety. He is telling us to get ready for a visit from the most important person in human history. This man's name is John the Baptist, and we are told today that "he came as a witness to testify to the light."
That statement may not seem to mean as much 2,000 years later as it did back then. That's because we already know the ending to the story, which they didn't. Our world has already been visited by the Holy One from God. We don't need an "advance person" to prepare the way like they did. Or do we still need to listen to John the Baptist? Perhaps there is something in his message that we are taking for granted. That is a problem with the familiar -- we fall into a sense of complacency. As a result, Christmas can become simply a "festival of the familiar" rather than an "encounter with the Holy One."
Two words in this passage stand out: "witness" and "light." Last week we heard John call for repentance and change. Today we hear him calling us to prepare for Christmas by building a straight road in the desert for God to travel on. You'd think John had been watching a crew rebuild one of our streets rather than quoting the prophet Isaiah. "Fill up the low spots. Knock the tops off of the high spots. Level it out. Make it straight and smooth."
What does Isaiah say is the purpose of all this construction? "So that the glory of the Lord may be revealed for all the world to see!" Folks, John's message about Christmas is that God wants every person in the entire world to know the power and glory of God. In his oratorio Messiah, George Frederic Handel majestically captures these words of Isaiah in music: "And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it."
Getting ready for Christmas is not about decorated trees or office parties or even family gatherings. It is about a mission that God has placed upon every one of us: to open up a path to God for others who are in need of God's love and grace. If we really "hear" that, it will have an effect on both our preparation for and celebration of Christmas. John is telling us that God expects us to do something as a result of what God did at Christmas.
While that may seem like a trite statement, I have observed that there are any number of folks in our pews who have what I call an "armchair faith." To be sure, they come to church. But they seem to want to be spoon-fed, and after they leave the church building it's the end of it until the next time they come.
Our relationship to God is not a "consumer faith" in which everything is neatly packaged for us and all we have to do is pick it off the shelf when we need it. Nor is faith a "let George do it" affair in which we allow a dedicated few to burn themselves out doing the tasks which belong to all of us. John is saying that Christmas road-building requires the active involvement of every one of us year-round. He is saying we are to build these roads everywhere -- into our jobs, our schools, our communities, our neighborhoods -- anywhere and everywhere we go!
The second word that stands out is "light." I recently read about an experimental generator that runs on natural gas and can be set up in a home to provide for almost all of its electrical needs. It made me realize that we have come a long way technologically in providing light to see by. However, as I read the same newspapers and hear about shootings in schools and messy divorces and people dying of drug overdoses, I also realized that technology cannot generate light for our hearts and souls.
If actions speak louder than words (and they do), then at Christmas God has virtually shouted to the world that God cares enough to enter the place we live and bring light to the dark spots in our lives that we cannot seem to light on our own. Christmas light is about an end to isolation and despair that even our best efforts can't seem to fix. Christmas is about hope when the stage of life is the darkest. Christmas is about a future that God has provided for eternity when death appears to be the final word in life.
We need to hear this message again and again. Somehow the passage of time takes a subtle toll on our spirits. Because it happens little by little, even to the most dedicated people, we usually don't notice it. Then one day it suddenly gets dark and we wonder what happened.
Today we have heard from the "advance man." He reminds us that God has turned on the brightest light in the universe -- brighter than any sun or star or gas-powered electric generator. He also reminds us that we are the advance people of this generation. We are to tell everyone who will listen that the light has already come. To paraphrase John's Advent message of "Prepare the way of the Lord" for our times: "Turn on the lights."
Paul E. Flesner has served for nearly two decades as the pastor of Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Prospect Heights, Illinois. He is a graduate of Carthage College and Luther Seminary. This sermon appears in Sermons For The Gospel Readings [Series I, Cycle B].
**********************************************
How to Share Stories
You have good stories to share, probably more than you know: personal stories as well as stories from others that you have used over the years. If you have a story you like, whether fictional or "really happened," authored by you or a brief excerpt from a favorite book, send it to StoryShare for review. Simply click here share-a-story@csspub.com and e-mail the story to us.
**********************************************
StoryShare, December 11, 2005, issue.
Copyright 2005 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45802.
