Another Shepherd’s Story (a Christmas story)

a Christmas Eve story
by Roger Lynn
December 24, 2020

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From the time of the Beginning until now the world has always been filled with Wonder. Everything was called into being by the very Word of God, so how could it be otherwise. But it is also true that for all of that time from then until now we humans have often forgotten to notice. We get busy doing whatever it is that’s right in front of us, and we stop seeing the Wonder. Sometimes, however, usually when we least expect it and are busy not noticing, the Wonder shines through so brightly that we can’t help but pay attention. And on those occasions, when we are lucky enough to be present and awake, our lives are transformed and marked by the experience forevermore. I want to tell you about one night many years ago when that happened to me.

My name is Caleb, and I come from a family of shepherds. I am old now, and no longer spend my nights out in the field with the sheep, but in my younger years, now long past, that was often where you would find me. On one of those occasions, when I was a young man, there were several of us gathered around a fire to keep warm, for there was a chill in the air. The sheep were quiet, and we were talking among ourselves. It was one of those times when we weren’t particularly paying attention. Oh, we were mindful of the sheep, but the larger picture was not in our awareness. It was just a night like so many others before it. And then, suddenly, everything changed. Some of us noticed, and some of us didn’t. I’ve never been able to comprehend how anyone could fail to catch at least a hint of what was happening, but I guess we each have our own unique ways of experiencing the world. Even for those of us who did come awake to the wonder of it all there is no one way of telling the story. You may have heard my cousin, Jonas, tell his version of that night. He was there, just a kid though he was at the time. He talks about the air exploding with life, and being intoxicated with joy. And I can understand why he would describe it that way, but it felt different from where I stood. There really are not enough words to tell this story, at least not that I’ve been able to find. The closest I’ve ever come is to say that one moment the air was full of snow, and then next moment it was full of God.

Some folks talk about angels – manifestations of sacred presence. And maybe that’s what I’m trying to describe. There were no wings and halos, or trumpets and fiery swords. In fact, as far as my senses were concerned there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary at all. But whatever it is in us that senses what lies just beneath the surface of things knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that the air was full of something, and it sure felt like holiness to me. There is a Hebrew word, Emmanuel, that means “God with us”, and that’s what it felt like. God was with us! Not in some ethereal, out there somewhere sort of way. This was a right here, right now, filling every bit of everything kind of experience. Earlier, when I was talking about Wonder – this experience is what I was talking about. Even now, all these years later, I can still feel it.

Well, as I said, some of us noticed and some of us didn’t. And those of us who noticed couldn’t sit still a moment longer. Those who didn’t seemed perfectly content to stay with the sheep, so we let them. I don’t know why we headed into town. I don’t know how we ended up by the stable out behind the old inn. I don’t where the young couple came from. I don’t know when the child had been born. There is so much that I don’t know. And none of that matters. What matters is that we were there and we were awake and paying attention. The sense of God’s almost tangible presence had softened, but it was still very real. In fact, maybe it was even more real in the quiet of that moment. What I know is that it felt as if I had come face to face with God shining through the face of that newborn child, and my life has never been the same since. I was touched by Wonder, and I was paying enough attention to notice.

I have walked through all of the long years that brought me from then to now with my eyes and my heart wide open, always on the look out for another glimpse of that Wonder. And what I want to tell you, what I want you to know, is that I found it. Over and over again I found it. Every day I find it. Emmanuel – God with us – is the story of my life. In every moment it is the great story of the world. Wonder is everywhere. Pay attention.

Love That Stoops To Greatness (Advent 4)

Micah 5: 2-5a & Luke 1: 39-55
Roger Lynn
December 20, 2020
4th Sunday in Advent
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I think that sometimes we find understanding God to be a challenge, not because God is so big, but because God acts in such small and unexpected ways. We appreciate stories like the creation story. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” It has a certain grandeur and spectacle about it. Such stories fit with who we want God to be. We really want a Cecil B. DeMille/Charleton Heston kind of God. There is a certain comfort and security which comes with believing in such a God.

The problem comes when we begin to discover that much of Scripture is filled with a very different image of who God is and how God works. Over and over again we find God choosing backwater places, obscure situations, and ordinary people as the focus of God’s action and attention. Look at Abraham – a nomadic sheep herder. Look at Moses – a fugitive from the Egyptian government hiding out in the wilderness. Or David – the youngest son of an unknown family. Or, for that matter, look at the whole nation of Israel – a small collection of tribes who kept getting run over and conquered by their more powerful neighbors. None of these cases would appear to be likely candidates for providing a showcase for God’s divine action. But in every case they became defining pieces in the tapestry of God’s relationship with the world. It is not what we would expect. It is not even necessarily what we would choose. But it appears to be how God does things.

Which brings us to the scriptures for today. Again we find God working, and promising to continue working, in obscurity. “But you, O Bethlehem, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel.” (Micah 5: 2) Not from some major capital or trading center of the world. Not from some long-standing ruling dynasty. But from backwater Bethlehem. And when it happens, when God finally does bring forth this long-promised ruler from Bethlehem, it is the same story all over again. We find Mary (who?) and her kinswoman, Elizabeth (who?) about to have babies (babies?). In those days women often didn’t count for much in the large scheme of things, and babies counted for even less. So why in the world would God choose women and babies to serve as primary players in this auspicious undertaking? Because that is what God does.

There is a song which gets sung about this time of year that says, “Love came down at Christmas.” It certainly did! God’s Love is so great that God isn’t afraid to bring it down to where we live. I remember seeing an ad for a movie once which announced that it was “larger than life.” Such descriptions appeal to us. We like the big and the dramatic. But if God had chosen to be simply “larger than life” then most of us would be left out. The problem with a Cecil B. DeMille/Charleton Heston kind of God is that most of us don’t live in that kind of world. Most of us are ordinary folks living ordinary lives in backwater places. That is where the vast majority of life takes place. So it is a very good thing that God chooses to devote so much time and energy to just our kind of living. It is a good thing that God chooses places like Bethlehem, because we live in places like Bethlehem. And it is a good thing that God chooses unknown women like Mary and Elizabeth, because we have a lot more in common with them than we would have with someone like a Caesar or a Pharaoh. And it is a good thing that God chooses babies, because it reminds us that it isn’t how educated, or powerful, or famous, or attractive, or anything we are that matters. What matters is God choosing to love us no matter what. The truly remarkable message of the gospel is that there is no limit to how far God will go to love us. God’s love knows no bounds.

As we prepare to celebrate Christmas, the temptation is to make everything big and flashy and spectacular. Let us remember that the One whose birth we are preparing to celebrate once said, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” (Mark 9:35) God’s love stoops to greatness. May it be so for us as well.

Rejoice? (Advent 3)

Isaiah 35: 1-10
Roger Lynn
December 13, 2020
3rd Sunday in Advent
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“Everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” (Isaiah 35:10) That is the promise of Isaiah. To which we are tempted to respond, “Yeah, right!” Everlasting joy doesn’t seem to be a very likely possibility in these dark times in which we find ourselves. The list of things stacked against it would include: a global pandemic; massive unemployment; social and political upheaval; to say nothing of the personal challenges and disappointments we face on a seemingly daily basis. Everlasting joy, indeed!

But such an attitude, while understandable, would represent a significant failure to look at anything beyond the surface of our existence. It would be to forget that we are people of faith who, by definition, seek to grasp the bigger picture. I am reminded of what Frederick Buechner says about joy. “Happiness turns up more or less where you’d expect it to – a good marriage, a rewarding job, a pleasant vacation. Joy, on the other hand, is as notoriously unpredictable as the one who bequeaths it.” (Wishful Thinking) The kind of joy which Isaiah promise is not about what appears to be true when we look with just our eyes. Rather, it is about what is ultimately true because we dare to believe that God makes it so. “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God.’ ” (Isaiah 35:4) God is always bringing something new into our world and the promise of this ongoing renewal can serve to counter our exhaustion, our despair, and our hopelessness.

It doesn’t mean we ignore what is going on around us. It simply means that as we become aware of God’s presence in our lives and in our world, as we seek to allow that awareness to seep down into the core of our being, we gain a fresh, new perspective on reality. We discover it is possible to declare with confidence that, “Appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, God is at work even now healing the brokenness of our world and bringing new life into the midst of the death which surrounds us.” We can join with Isaiah in believing that a new age is dawning – an age which is defined by joy rather than sorrow, peace rather than conflict, wholeness rather than brokenness, community rather than isolation, love rather than hate, life rather than death. “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.” (Isaiah 35:6-7) And as this vision of divine extravagance begins to take root in us, rejoicing becomes not only possible but unavoidable. The exuberance of Isaiah begins to bubble to the surface of our lives, and we cannot contain it. “The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. . . For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water.” (Isaiah 35:1-2&6-7)

And, of course, once we become infused with this joyful perspective we also find ourselves both challenged and empowered to share such joy with the rest of the world. “Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees.” (Isaiah 35:3) God’s abundant work in our world is accomplished through our efforts on God’s behalf. How we live matters – we are the agents God chooses to use to reach the world and make a difference. Returning again to the words of Frederick Buechner, he says, “[Compassion] is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.” (Wishful Thinking) Faith always pushes us outward, beyond ourselves. When our connection with God leads us to discover a source of true joy, we also discover a prompting to share that joy with others. To ignore such prompting is to risk losing touch with the joy – not because God will take it away from us, but because sharing it is intrinsically woven into the very fabric of the experience.

And so we come again to where we started. Our faith still calls us to a life which is defined by rejoicing. And our experience in the world continues to challenge the very concept of joy as something irrelevant and contrary to the realities we face. The choice is stark and dramatic – choose joy or choose despair. Either God is working in the world towards the ultimate goal of a transformed and transforming creation, or God isn’t. Either we are called to participate in a vision of life defined by joy and peace and hope and love, or we aren’t. Isaiah chose joy. What will we choose?

God’s Uncomfortable Peace (Advent 2)

Isaiah 11: 1-9 & Matthew 3: 1-6
Roger Lynn
December 6, 2020
2nd Sunday in Advent

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“Prepare the way of the Lord!” John the Baptizer – the wild prophet in the wilderness – proclaims this challenge to the people around Jerusalem in the middle of the first century. And 2,000 years later the message still resonates with us. It is dramatic. It stirs the soul and gets the blood flowing. It urges us to do something. But what does it mean? What is the “way” we are being called to prepare? I suspect that much of the reason why we enjoy hearing “prepare the way of the Lord” in this season of Advent is because we are looking ahead to Christmas and thinking about the sweet little baby Jesus. This is a season which we often fill with warm, cozy feelings, and we like it that way. But if we are to take John’s message seriously, we must look beyond the manger. The voice of the Baptizer, crying out from the Jordan river, calls for a change in the very fabric of our world. He joins the likes of Isaiah in offering a new vision of hope, but it is hope which comes at a cost. We cannot continue “business as usual” because a new age is dawning. God is bringing something new into our lives, and nothing will remain unchanged.

The theme for this second week of Advent is “Peace.” It is a word which we love to hear and love to speak, particularly in times such as these which we now find ourselves facing. We long for peace to find its way into our lives and into our world. But as with most things associated with this season, we tend to reduce our understanding of peace to a simple message that will fit on the front of a Christmas card. We don’t want it to challenge us. We don’t want it to cost us anything. We just want it to feel good. Fortunately, for us and for the world, the peace of God is bigger than that. One of the word which Jesus would have used to speak of peace was the Hebrew word “Shalom,” which can also be translated as “wholeness.” I find that to be a helpful concept. True peace is founded upon and emerges out of regaining and restoring the sense of wholeness and unity which God intended for all of creation.

This is the vision which comes to us through prophets such as Isaiah and John. In a world filled with violence, destruction, and despair, they see God’s active presence moving us towards a bold, new future of hope and peace. There is a coming together of the broken pieces into a new wholeness. It is a powerful vision. But for many of us who would look to such a vision for comfort and security, we may well be in for a serious shock. The wholeness which forms the Shalom of God will require a new way of relating with each other. We will no longer be able to profit and benefit and enhance our own lives at the expense of others. Justice (in the Biblical sense of restorative justice) for all means exactly that. When God’s peace begins to find root in the world, our lives will change. And for those of us who are used to being on top and being in control, we may find the experience uncomfortable and challenging. In describing both the promise and the threat of this new vision of peace and wholeness, Isaiah uses some disturbingly strong language. I find myself wishing he had found some other ways to express himself, but at the very least it has the virtue of making it very clear that abusive imbalances of power have no place in God’s peace. What will have a place, indeed the central place, in such a vision of peace is a fundamental re-orientation towards harmony, community, and interdependence. “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” (Isaiah 11:6) The old ways of living in the world – ways based on power over and self-preservation – must give way to a basic awareness of the ways in which we are connected and interdependent. I invite you to spend a moment reflecting on all of the myriad ways in which our lives would be dramatically altered by such a radical new understanding of life.

So John comes along and calls for us to “prepare the way of the Lord.” In Matthew’s Gospel, the first word out of John’s mouth is, “Repent!” That word literally means to “turn around and go the other way.” “Carefully, and urgently, examine the ways in which you are living your life,” John is saying, “and look to see if it is consistent with a vision of God-centered wholeness, peace, and justice.” We are to “make the paths straight.” “Level the playing field” might be another way to put it. The “way” we are called to prepare for God involves making sure that everyone has an equal opportunity to experience the fullness of God’s presence in their lives. Everyone!

It is not the kind of peace we might have chosen, because it will require that we change in ways which will be uncomfortable and might even be perceived as threatening. But ultimately it is the only kind of genuine, lasting, meaningful peace which is possible. And it is only possible when we begin to let go of our need for power and control, and begin instead to trust in the God who is calling us to a new sense of wholeness with each other, with the world around us, and with God. God is always coming into our world in bold new ways. How are we preparing the way?