Sermons for the Month
God's Winter Flowers
DATE: December 11th, 2005
SERVICE: Third Sunday In Advent
TEXT: Isaiah 61:1-3 and John 1:6-8, 19-28“To all of you Saints here this morning, grace and peace to you from God our Father, from His Son, Jesus Christ and His Holy Spirit. AMEN
A friend recently pointed out an inconsistency in my life. (I guess I should be thankful that it was only one.) It was Thanksgiving Day and I was keeping my friend company in the kitchen while she put the finishing touches on dinner. (She knew better than to ask me to help with the cooking.) So, as we talked I began playing with the magnets on her refrigerator. There were thousands of tiny words with which to create profound thoughts for all to read. I picked out four words and an exclamation point and positioned them right in the center, at eye level. My message was, "Good riddance to summer!" When my friend read it she challenged the strength of my statement. "Do you really feel that way?" Yes, it's true, I said, I dislike summer. I love fall and I like the short days and snow of December, but the heat of summer is not my favorite.
And that's when I was challenged about my consistency because one of the things I love the most - growing plants and flowers - occurs during the season I like the least. Every inch that I have available to plant outside has something growing in it, and there are 16 plants inside my condo occupying the places where the light is best.
So, I'll admit, it does seem odd that I would write, "Good riddance to summer!" I'll claim my inconsistency, but I also will defend myself by saying that it's not so odd when you realize that the thing about gardening that I really like is the fact that out of a tiny seed six-foot-tall flowers grow, and it's possible to make roses and hyacinth bloom inside when the snow is blowing outside. (And I have photos to prove it.)
In other words, it is the promise of hope, beauty and new life that grows out of nothingness that thrills me. That's why Advent is my favorite season of the church year; at this time we are reminded over and over again that God is at work in the world creating hope, beauty and new life in the midst of all that hopeless, ugly and dead. Consider if you will the words of the Prophet Isaiah that we read today, a message spoken to a despondent people. After centuries in exile in Babylon, the people of Israel have returned home. But their expectations of the homeland have not been met. The conditions there are awful, people are rebellious and the glorious kingdom of God that they expected would be established is a far off dream.
But, the Prophet says, God has descended upon him, urging and empowering him to proclaim a message of hope that is no longer a far off dream, but a present reality. This message is for those who are powerless, those whose lives - and hearts - are broken, those who are captive to the tragedies of their existence and who are bound up by their pain. To this hurting mass of humanity justice will come, and they will be comforted, the Prophet says.
The turn around will be so great that it will be as if one has moved from death to life. Did you notice the three images of sorrow contrasted with those of joy? Ashes, placed on the head as a sign of mourning, will be brushed off and replaced by a crown of beauty. (This was a headdress worn by a bridegroom in the midst of a wedding celebration.) The tears of grief will be dried, and the raw skin soothed by oil. (This was body ointment worn by women to attract and enhance; it was never worn during a period of mourning.) The cloak of despair will be replaced. It won't just be covered over, but like one garment is taken off and a new one is put on, despair will be replaced by praise.
And those who have been overwhelmed by sorrow will stand strong. Up from the dust of despair they will come, examples of stability and strength, a planting of the Lord. And, finally, most importantly, they will display not their own splendor, but God's. They will be the examples of God's graciousness, just as a perfect rose is a testimony to the wonder of creation.
What beautiful images! And, isn't it significant that the very one whose birth we will celebrate in a few weeks quotes a portion of this passage - Isaiah 61 - and says, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Jesus said, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." What can that possibly mean for we who are his disciples?
Are we, or do we know, anyone who feels powerless? Are there those whose lives - and hearts - are broken, who are captive to the tragedies of their existence and who are bound up by their pain? Is there yet a hurting mass of humanity who long for the comfort that comes with justice? Is it still possible that the turn around will be so great that it will be as if one has moved from death to life, from tears and despair to being dressed in finery, smelling good, singing songs of praise?
Can those who have suffered really become symbols of strength and stability, a planting of the Lord? I believe they can. But I confess to you my sisters and brothers that the state of the world, and of the people in it, sometimes makes it challenging to believe that such transformation is possible.
It is so tempting to become cynical, singing a refrain of "people are no darn good", or to become apathetic with a touch of "what's in it for me" thrown in for good measure, or to become a determined, but limited, superman or woman.
Maybe those realities are the reason I've always identified with these words of E.B. White. "If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But, I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world, and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan my day."
And that's the reason, I suppose, that we should do less planning (heaven forbid!) and be more open to the power and presence of God in our lives. As we do so, bit by bit, transformation will come. Or, perhaps it will be a sudden change. Whatever the case, just as that tiny seed produces those six-foot flowers, we too will become the planting of the Lord who display his splendor.
Remember, that's what John the Baptist was all about. How many of us would be so clear about what we are not? John was firm. "I am not the Messiah. I am not Elijah. I am not the prophet", he said. "It's not about me," I can imagine him explaining. "I have a light; it's important that you see it because it shines on the path to the true light." And only that true light offers us what we need to flourish.
As a gardener I get this. I've had plants that were absolutely pathetic and I've seen them transformed. My African Violets bloom like crazy because they are in the right light, in the right soil, and I water them consistently, in the right way, with what they need. (And a little tender talk cannot hurt.)
That's what Jesus offers us - the right light, the best grounding and nourishment - given in just the way we each need so that we may grow strong and stable we reflect God's splendor as plantings of the Lord.
Then, we have something to offer others, BUT like John we must never forget who we are not. However, who we are is not so shabby. Through us God is at work in the world creating hope, beauty and new life in the midst of all that hopeless, ugly and dead. Jesus shines through us as the light in the darkness. When the earth is cold and the snow flies, we are the rose or the hyacinth that blooms … in spite of it all. AMEN