A Carpenter’s Tale

a Christmas Eve story by Roger Lynn
(click here for the audio for this story)

It is difficult to comprehend the changes that a year can bring. My life is surprising, and amazing, and overwhelming, and terrifying, and wonderful, all at the same time. You just never know where life will take you.

But I get ahead of myself. Let me back up and start again. My name is Joseph, and I am a carpenter from the village of Nazareth. Nine month ago I was just a simple man, working everyday and looking forward to marrying my beloved Mary. And then things got crazy. When Mary told me she was pregnant it was unexpected and confusing. I felt lost, and hurt, and betrayed. She told me a story about an angel and being chosen to carry God’s child. It seemed such an outlandish tale, and I was still reeling from the news. At first I didn’t believe her. And then I made what could have been the biggest mistake of my life. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I stormed off. My beloved was in the most vulnerable situation of her life, and I just walked away. It was not my finest hour. But fortunately, for me, and for Mary, and for the baby, God did not give up on me or abandon me to my own momentary weakness. Thank God that we do not have to be defined by such moments. 

After I stormed off I found myself sitting alone in my room, empty and numb and completely bewildered. And that’s when it happened. The best way I’ve been able to describe the experience is that I was enveloped by a presence. If you had there I don’t know if you would have seen or heard or felt anything, except, perhaps, what you saw reflected in my face, which must have been glowing with surprise and wonder and awe. There were no words, at least not in the usual way we talk about words, but the experience was powerful and life-changing. And the message was profoundly clear. I was loved. Mary was loved. Something extraordinary was happening. And I was invited to be a part of it. Please hear me, because this is important. It was an invitation. Not a command. Not a demand. I was invited to step out in faith and trust in something larger than myself. It seemed to me then, and seems to me still, that my life hung in the balance. I could accept this strange and bewildering gift, and my life would open up in one direction. Or I could reject the gift, and my life would close down in another direction. I know it sounds melodramatic, but that’s how it felt as I sat there surrounded by the light of sacred presence. Somehow I found the strength to accept the gift which was being offered, and I am convinced that even the strength was a part of the gift. And then the experience was over. What remained, however, was the absolute certainty that my life had changed forever.

Here Am I (Advent 4)

Luke 1: 26-38

Roger Lynn

December 23, 2018

4th Sunday in Advent

(click here for the audio for this sermon)
(click here for the video for this sermon)

It must have been an overwhelming experience. Some might even say terrifying. A young woman from a simple, rural culture, finds herself suddenly faced with a direct and personal experience of the presence of God, in the form of an angel. It is worth noting that under almost any circumstances, encountering angels is apparently a frightening experience. Almost every time they show up, the first thing they have to say is, “Don’t be afraid!” I am quite confident that those will be the words they have to say should they ever decide to visit me. But, in the case of Mary, her encounter carried with it additional reasons for dread. She was to become pregnant in a most unconventional way, which could easily be misunderstood by the world in general and her betrothed in particular. In short, the angel brought Mary a message which had the power to upend her entire life. Regardless of how you understand this story, whether you take it literally or figuratively, the message is clear – this was very unsettling news.

Which is precisely what makes Mary’s response so powerful. When the angel has finished explaining this overwhelming and unsettling plan, Mary says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38) And with those simple words she steps out in trusting faith on a journey which would forever change not only her life, but the very course of history itself. She joins the likes of Samuel, Isaiah, and even her own son who is yet to be, in responding to God’s call by offering nothing less than her life. “Here am I!” She could not have known all that such a response would mean, any more than any of us can look into the future and foresee how our lives will unfold. Her response was not based on certainty, or guarantees, or proof, and it certainly wasn’t based on a reasonable request. Her courageous response is rooted in an experience of God as One who can be trusted. “Here am I – work through me!”

Rejoice Always? (Advent 3)

Isaiah 12: 2-6 & Philippians 4: 4-7

Roger Lynn

December 16, 2018

3rd Sunday in Advent

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(click here for the video for this sermon)

It all sounds so wonderful. It is the way we want life to be. Paul tells the people in Philippi to rejoice in the Lord always! And then, just in case they didn’t believe him the first time, he tells them again. Isaiah proclaims to the Hebrew people that God has brought salvation and new life upon them. With joy they will draw from those wells, Isaiah tells them. And it all sounds so wonderful. Who wouldn’t want joy in their life all the time? But it also sounds a bit naive and unrealistic. Surely Paul and Isaiah didn’t understand what they were asking. How are we supposed to live like that in the real world?

It gets even more difficult to comprehend when you begin to understand the circumstances in which Paul and Isaiah delivered these proclamations of joy. In the church at Philippi there has been a fight between two of the strong leaders in the congregation. Where once there was unity there is now discord. People who had helped preach the Gospel are no longer even talking to each other. And Isaiah is addressing his message to the Hebrew people in a time when the Northern Kingdom had been annexed by neighboring Syria and the people of Judah and Jerusalem are living with the threat of a similar fate. Tensions are running high and anxiety is dominating every aspect of life. Neither of these situations seem like rejoicing would be a reasonable response. And yet, that is what is being called for.

Seeking Peace In Hostile Times (Advent 2)

Luke 1: 67-79 & Luke 3: 1-6

Roger Lynn

December 9, 2018

2nd Sunday in Advent

(Click here for the audio for this sermon)
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You have only to listen to the news for a few minutes or scan the headlines of the daily paper to reach the conclusion that we live in hostile and dangerous times. Mass shootings occurring more often than we can even keep track of. Wars raging across the planet. Repressive governments violating basic human rights of their citizens. Famine and drought and wildfires and the growing effects of climate change devastating countless people’s lives. If we are paying attention at all it is easy to reach the conclusion that this is a frightening time to be alive. 

And yet, it is in the very midst of such times that we have the audacity to gather together here this morning and light the Advent candle of peace. We dare to declare that God’s peace is actually a reality which is, even now, breaking into our world. Such bold claims represent either a strong undergirding of faith or else something resembling insanity. And the line between those two positions is often difficult to distinguish.

Hopeful Anticipation (Advent 1)

Jeremiah 33: 12-16

Roger Lynn

December 2, 2018

1st Sunday in Advent

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(click here for the video for this sermon)

Today the season of Advent begins. It is a time for watching and waiting and anticipating and preparing. All of our spiritual senses are strained to catch a glimpse of God’s light coming into the world. It is no accident that this season occurs at the darkest time of the year. It is is these days when the darkness threatens to surround us completely that we most need to remind ourselves that it will not always be this way. God is at work, even now, restoring wholeness to the world. God is among us, even now, seeking to heal the brokenness of our lives and our world. 

Advent is a paradoxical season. We watch for that which is already here. We wait for that which is already true. We anticipate that which has already occurred. But in the watching and waiting and anticipating we make room for it to become real in our lives. If it were possible for us to be fully aware of, and fully in sync with, all of God’s activity around us, then we wouldn’t need seasons and rituals and symbols and traditions in the Church. We would just know and understand and appreciate and live in harmony with what God is doing among us. But one of the defining things about what it means to be human is that we forget. We need to be reminded, over and over again, before we can slowly begin to integrate our lives into the larger reality of God. So we catch glimpses of the truth that God has come to be among us and we tell stories of a baby being born. We keep telling the stories and we build up a variety of traditions around those stories. And we continue to do all of this with the hope that we will remember, deep down in the core of our being, that God’s light really has illuminated our darkness and continues to do so even now. And, we also know that this is not how we experience the world much of the time. If God’s light is right here, right now, then why does it still seem so dark? Why are we still fighting wars? Why are we still being cruel to each other? Why are there still so many people starving? So we tell more stories and create more traditions to help us deal honestly with these questions. We develop a season which is dedicated to themes of watching and waiting and anticipating and preparing. Not because God is somehow absent and needs to show up soon. But because until we practice being alert and watchful, we will continue to miss what is already true.