Be not afraid Advent 3C 12.16.12
Melissa
Campbell-Langdell
All Saints
12.16.12
+ Advent 3C
(Zeph.
3:14-20; First Song of Isaiah; Phil. 4: 4-7; Luke 3: 7-18)
When I came in the
office on Wednesday, there was a cartoon on the table that Mabel had printed
out. On it was a priest during one
Sunday of Advent and one Monday of Advent.
On Sunday, the priest is calm, saying “Be calm, be Quiet, it’s Advent”
or something along those lines. And on
Monday, the priest is frazzled, saying—“who ordered poinsettias? Do we have bulletins? Get to work people, it’s Advent!” J The concept is that we talk a great game about
being calm and peaceful at Advent and then we in the church realize how much
work we actually have to do to put it all together and we get a bit frayed if
we aren’t careful. As if to mirror this,
in the lectionary, we have calm, peaceful restoration stories from Zephaniah
and Isaiah and Philippians and then, wham!
John the Baptist reminds us all that we all have some work to do.
Yet at the same time, my daily life is actually quite calm and peaceful and stable, compared to those of some of the people that come into our office needing assistance.
Yet at the same time, my daily life is actually quite calm and peaceful and stable, compared to those of some of the people that come into our office needing assistance.
This week, just
while I was in the office, at least four people came in needing assistance, and
there may have been more while I wasn’t there.
So many people come into our office with tenuous housing situations or
other genuinely scary life events and it’s my job to help where I can and to
tell them, “be not afraid,” as the scripture says today in Zephaniah.
Yet, who am I to
offer such assurance? Neither I, nor
this small but mighty church can pay our way out of the majority of these
folks’ crises. We do not have the
breadth to be able to save everyone from their problems. But God does.
And sometimes I say “Don’t be afraid” and even I wonder how on earth it
will all come together and, somehow, it tends to when we trust and pray. Because those words, “Don’t be afraid” aren’t
mine. They were God’s first. Here in Zephaniah today the prophet uses
these words from God to comfort those still under the Assyrian domination, but
looking forward to going home.[1] Redemption and renewal will happen, God
assures us. And we will hear these words
again, in Luke, at Christmastime, when the Angel Gabriel speaks to Mary.[2]
These words, “do
not fear,” are God’s, not mine, so when I share them, they are not a casual and
baseless assurance, but they are a promise from God to each and every one of
us.
I see this over
and over—yes, the world is scary, and we face real, material problems now, many
of us—problems of housing, of family and other social acceptance, of finding
love, of finding economic security. We
are prone to sin, the brood of vipers, according to John the Baptist (he’s so
flattering!) But all silliness aside,
John the Baptist does have a point. There
are big problems in our world, as we were reminded so viscerally at the
massacre in Connecticut on Friday. There
are no easy answers to why and how God allows that kind of violence and how we
respond. But, we are still told, “Be not
afraid.” Which doesn’t mean “be naïve”
or “keep your blinders on.” But over and
over, I see God providing to those who trust in God. A friend had a ridiculously short time frame
in which to sell a house and buy a new one.
She asked for prayer, and it not only happened, but the house she found
is perfect for her family! Others have found housing when they thought there
was no way it could happen in their price range. And usually, it’s even better than they could
have imagined!
God does provide,
renew and restore us to a sense of home, but it often takes a lot more patience
than we ever thought we could muster.
And because of
that patience, it is so much easier said than done to “be not afraid.” How on earth to we hold onto that promise
during those moments when all reason tells us to freak out? How do we help others in such moments find
peace amidst transition and loose ends?
I suggest we look
to the reading from the letter to the Philippians today. It is very brief, saying:
“Rejoice in the
Lord always; again I say, Rejoice. Let
your gentleness to be known to everyone.
The Lord is near. Do not worry
about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving
let your requests be made known to God.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your
hearts and minds in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:4-7 NRSV).”
Short and sweet,
this might be a personal mission statement for individual Christians. This passage, written mind you by Paul who
was in prison at the time (!) mentions rejoicing.
I don’t know about
you, but I wouldn’t be too joyful in prison.
But one commentator rightly pointed out that this rejoicing is actually vital
to living the Christian life. Because
when we rejoice in God, we can remain patient about those things that are not
yet right in our lives, we can counter the anxiety that so easily crops up when
we let worldly fears in about our situation, and in doing so, we find peace in
the meantime, peace before perfection.[3] And perhaps peace before perfection is how we
live as Christians. Because life before
the Kingdom has come is never going to be perfect, and we are never fully home,
but we can still find peace in relying on God and rejoicing in God’s goodness.
And note: this
passage mentions gentleness, which is an odd contrast to John the Baptist’s
manner this week. Gentleness is actually
a part being Christian, although gentleness is not the same as being too nice. So perhaps there isn’t as much contrast as we
might think, as John the Baptist spouts some wisdom that could as easily be in
this Philippians passage. Be content.
Here it is about
contentment with the wages if you are a soldier, but it seems like it could go
for us, too. Because, as a commentator
puts it, contentment is vital to us as Christians “for it reveals a steadfast
trust in God and God’s work and will.”[4] When we can find contentment in our lives,
even as we strive to right those things that still are not right, we can
rejoice in the big things when they come.
This is part of
lifting up everything in prayer, that we are reminded to be thankful about the
good things and also to dedicate the worries to God. This week, I lift up those families in
Connecticut for a healing that passes all understanding. And I lift up my worries and fears about gun
violence and ask God’s guidance about how we as a nation can respond better to
those who are hurting before they hurt others.
And slowly, the pain receding, it is my prayer that we can return to
find joy in God’s small mercies despite the pain.
And in rejoicing over the small mercies and in that stable contentment, even as we strive to right our lives to God’s will and better our lives where we need to; we practice opening our eyes to God’s blessings in our lives.
And in rejoicing over the small mercies and in that stable contentment, even as we strive to right our lives to God’s will and better our lives where we need to; we practice opening our eyes to God’s blessings in our lives.
So, my mission
statement this remainder of Advent will be to remember to rejoice, even as I
remain aware of my flaws and fears and lift them to God, and even as I continue
to lift up those in Connecticut and pray on what I can do to end this
violence. And maybe you and I can hope
to glimpse some of that peace of God in the rest of Advent and even brighter in
the full flame of Christmas this year?
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