Dr. Bice with pseudophone

As a grad student at UVa, I studied under a lot of wonderful and powerful teachers.  Ironically, one of the most amazing teachers I met at UVa was a professor from whom I did not take a single course.  I got to know Dr. Raymond Bice, Jr., not as one of his students, but as his deacon at University Baptist Church.  By the time I got to Charlottesville, Dr. Bice had already retired from teaching, but around the church and around UVa’s lawn, stories of his prowess as a teacher continued to circulate.  Dr. Bice taught Psychology 101 for ninety-one consecutive semesters at UVa.  His 500-seat lecture class at times had a waiting list of more than a hundred students, some of whom sent flowers, poems and other treats to attempt to gain entrance to his course.  So what was the secret to his success?  An inventor and self-described tinkerer, Bice developed a gadget, a “Bice device,” for every lecture in his course.  He combined household items and off-the-shelf parts to illustrate some of the more difficult psychological concepts.  One such “Bice device” demonstrated how the human pupil responds to stimuli.  Bice focused a magnifying glass on the eye of one of his female students.  First, he showed her an inanimate object. Next he had a male student remove his jacket and saunter in front of the young woman. “Her pupil opened 200 percent,” Bice said, in a Richmond Times-Dispatch article in 1994.[1]  In a lecture about how the brain localizes sound, Bice made an “electronic pseudophone” concocted from a pair of rubber plungers and headphones, which altered the location from which noise seemed to originate.  As Bice described it: “It’s what would happen if you could place your right ear on the left side of your head.”  Dr. Bice made psychology come alive and memorable to some 27,000 students during the span of his teaching career because he believed that “a demonstration is worth a thousand words.”[2]

I would not have been surprised if Dr. Bice, who passed away this past December, had adopted his belief in the power of demonstration by taking a page right out of Jesus’ teaching method.  In all four Gospels, we see that Jesus almost always accompanied his teaching with a demonstration, especially at the beginning of his ministry.  In the opening chapters of the Gospels, Jesus did not give complicated lectures or drawn-out explanations of what it meant that the Kingdom of God was near.  He demonstrated the nearness of the Kingdom of God by healing disease, relieving suffering, and turning water into wine at a wedding feast.  In our reading from the Gospel of Mark, we see Jesus beginning his ministry by taking his disciples to the local synagogue in Capernaum to teach.  Right in the middle of his teaching, a man possessed by an evil spirit interrupts his Sabbath School lesson, and Jesus used that occasion to give a demonstration of His authority and power.

At first glance, it is hard to see how this incident has any application to our lives today.  I imagine you won’t find many worship gatherings this morning that have scheduled a service of exorcism–accompanied by voices, convulsions and shrieks–as depicted in this morning’s scripture.  I’m very grateful that in this sanctuary today, we don’t have people (who I know of) rotating their heads three hundred and sixty degrees and spewing out green vomit like the character Linda Blair played in the movie The Exorcist.  I certainly don’t claim to have either the authority or power to cast out evil spirits.  So what’s a preacher to do with a passage like this?

As I wrestled with this conundrum, I reflected on the times when I was in the presence of powerful teaching.  Powerful teaching is always challenging, sometimes threatening, and on rare occasions, it is downright anger-producing.  That’s because powerful teaching delves straight into the heart of the matter.  It cuts to the quick; it steps on toes.  When that happens, I often find myself reacting with defensiveness and with resistance.  My heart rate goes up and I get all tense and convoluted as I argue with the teacher, almost always just in my head, but sometimes verbally, and on rare occasions, I want to argue physically . . . if you know what I mean!  Powerful teaching challenges my most cherished assumptions, and in so doing, it challenges my identity, my values, and my sense of self.  So when I am confronted by powerful teaching, I often mentally ask the teacher, “What do you want from me?  Have you come to destroy me?”

Several months ago, I was personally confronted with powerful teaching.  Alan Hirsch was main teacher at the Virginia Baptist General Assembly meeting last November.  Hirsch is a missiologist, and he noted that churches are declining all over western societies.  He argued that most of the problems in the church today are a result of a failure in discipleship.  As we study the scriptures, we see that a big part of Jesus’ earthly mission was spent making disciples.  Jesus then gave the Great Commission for his disciples to make disciples.  And out of this mission of disciples-making, the church came into existence.  In the Gospels and the book of Acts, the mission of disciple-making set the agenda for the church.  But today, we’ve got it backwards.  Today, the church (its programs, buildings, and staff) has pre-eminence over following Jesus, and “mission” is not something that the whole church does, but it is relegated to a committee who do these things in a few places.  Hirsch looked at us pastors and said, “Your leadership in church is proportional to your ability to make disciples.”  Making disciples means inviting others to come and see your life up close and personal, and investing in their lives.  It means teaching the scriptures and living the scriptures in community.  It means trusting in God’s Spirit to do the convicting and converting.  Jesus’ disciples were converted on the journey when they heard Jesus’ teachings and saw what Jesus did and then imitated Jesus.  When it comes to discipleship, here’s the six million dollar question: “When people see your life, will they see anything Christ-like worth imitating?”

At this point, I was squirming in my seat and getting resistant and defensive.  Parts of me became agitated.  The professional part of me was threatened because my salary package is one-third of the total church budget, while last year, the church contributed less than five percent of that budget toward missions.  Was Hirsch saying that I’m part of the problem?  The intellectual part of me was angry because all my life, I thought I knew what it meant to be a good pastor: fill the pews, increase the budget and add exciting programs to draw more people into church.  But Hirsch was telling me that I had it all backwards: leading like Jesus was about making disciples first, participating in God’s mission second, and then letting God’s Spirit build God’s church.  The emotional part of me was getting scared.  All my life I’ve kept people at arm’s length, and now Hirsch is telling me that I have to open up my life?  Why can’t I just tell church members to “Do as I say, not as I do?”  The people-pleasing part of me was getting depressed, because recruiting disciples the way Jesus did it would open me up for criticism that I’m just playing favorites and choosing my cronies to be part of my discipleship group and rejecting others.  Those voices were shrieking in my head like evil spirits, and they were all screaming, “What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?  Have you come to destroy us?”

In that kairos moment, I realized that I was possessed.  I was possessed by the power of professional ambition, by the power of intellectual pride, and by the power of approval-seeking from others.  I realized that I needed a Teacher with the power and authority to perform an exorcism on me.  Walter Wink once said: “Exorcism . . . [is] the indispensable prerequisite for getting a “new mind.”  Jesus’ teaching is itself a kind of exorcism, a cleansing of the mind of the misinformation that enslaves people to the Powers.”[3]  I needed that kind of exorcism, a cleansing of the mind, which is another way of describing repentance.  I needed to unlearn old ways and habits so that I can be freed to learn from and imitate the Holy One of God.

On that day, I believe that Jesus did exorcise me from those evil spirits.  Now, I would love to say that I’m totally free of them, but the truth is, I am not willing to totally let them go.  I like to think that they have less of a grip in my life, and I hope naming them in front of you today is another step for me toward complete freedom.  But here’s the truth: the more Jesus’ powerful teaching penetrates my life and my identity, the less power those other spirits will have over me.  The more I actually live out Jesus’ teachings, the more authority I will have when I teach them.  The Greek word for “authority” is exousia.  Ex meaning “out” (like “exit”) and ousia meaning “essence.”  Jesus taught with a power that came out of his very essence, instead of relying on outward credentials, reputation, and status.  A person’s authority comes from living out their message, living an authentic life, people like Mother Theresa and Martin Luther King, Jr.  I pray that the power of the Gospel will not only be communicated by the words I say, but just as importantly, it will be demonstrated by the life I live.  As Dr. Bice says, “A demonstration is worth a thousand words.”

So enough about me.  I’m eager to get to the fun part of the sermon.  I’m going to stop talking about my life and briefly start meddling in yours!  What would it look like if Jesus were to show up this morning and interrupt my ramblings, in order to speak a word of power and authority into your life, today, right now?

What would Jesus address in your life that has a grip on you like an evil spirit?

What voices need to be quieted and silenced?

What damaging behaviors need to come out?

What needs to be exorcised from your life today?

May the words and demonstration of Jesus’ powerful teaching release us out of our bondage and into the freedom of God’s glorious grace!  Amen.

On a balmy spring afternoon at the University of Virginia, I was walking to my seminar class when I heard a voice echoing across the lawn, “Repent and Believe!”  Ahead of me was a preacher carrying a big sign that said, “Repent!” and he was shouting at the top of his lungs that all of us students were going to hell for getting an education, because “the Word of God was all that’s needed.”  Most of the students paid little attention to the commotion and hurriedly walked on to their class.  Others shook their heads and made comments among themselves.  I paused for a second, wondering how his proclamation was going to attract students to the cause of Christ.

It is interesting that in today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus himself also proclaimed “repent and believe” as he began his earthly ministry.  It seems to me that in today’s society, no one wants to be told that they need to repent.  “Repent” is a “four-letter” word (yes, I’m mathematically challenged!).  It has negative connotations and people who tell others to repent are often seen as judgmental, negative, and condemnatory.  That’s not how you win friends and influence people these days.  As a pastor, I’m tempted to believe that if I want to successfully recruit disciples and followers, I should stay positive and not step on people’s toes.  I should stick with the “come and see” strategy recorded in the Gospel of John that we saw Jesus used last Sunday, and ditch the “repent and believe” strategy that we see Jesus use today in the Gospel of Mark.

But before Jesus called for repentance and belief, He made this proclamation: “The time has come, the kingdom of God is near.”  The word Jesus used for “time” is kairos, a Greek word used to describe not chronological time, but an opportune or right time.  One could say that in the Bible, kairos is the term used for God’s time, a decisive time ushering the in-breaking of God’s presence into our lives and our world.  Kairos moments can be positive, like the first day of school, the day you got married, or the birth day of a child.  But kairos moments can also be negative, like the day when Pearl Harbor or the Twin Towers were attacked, the day you failed a test, lost a job, got divorced, or the day your parent passed away. Kairos moments occur when you have the opportunity to take stock and make a change that will affect the rest of your life.

One such event took place during my senior year in high school.  As I told you last week, I went to a small, private high school, and during my senior year, I was the editor of the yearbook.  The administration trusted me enough to give me a key to the school so that the yearbook staff and I could work before or after school or during the weekends without having the custodian come and open up the school for us.  During the spring semester, several of my senior classmates approached me about “borrowing” the school key so that they could execute the traditional, annual senior class prank.  One of my best friends was Ginny, the daughter of the headmaster of the school, and she begged me not to do it.  I struggled with the decision, but in the end, I decided that while I wouldn’t let my classmates borrow the key, I would use it myself to open the door for them.   I succumbed to peer pressure because I didn’t want to be seen as a killjoy.  I thought that my presence during the night of the prank would help moderate what my classmates wanted to do.  I was wrong.  We made a mess of the school, and the headmaster called our parents and we all got into deep trouble.  I made Ginny so disappointed and mad that she wouldn’t talk to me for a week afterwards.

That event was a big kairos moment for me and it led me to repentance.  The word repentance in the Greek is metanoia, which literally means “to change one’s mind for the better.”  The senior prank caused me to change my mind about how much value I should place on just going along with the crowd.  No one had to tell me I needed to repent.  I knew that I had experienced a decisive moment, and I had a choice as to whether I was going to use it as a positive turning point in my life or not.  Seen in the context of a kairos moment, repentance became a positive opportunity for God to change my mind for the better, to help turn my life around.

So, what does repentance look like?  For many, repentance is merely feeling sorry for the wrong things one has done.  But according to Mike Breen, repentance also involves three other steps: observation of the kairos moment, reflection on one’s actions, and discussion with others about it.[1]  In other words, repentance requires not just a feeling, but reflection and confession within a spiritual community.  Dr. Larry Crabb writes, “A spiritual community consists of people who have the integrity to come clean. It is comprised of those who own their shortcomings and failures because they hate them more than they hate the shortcomings and failures of others.”[2]  Therefore, disciples in a true spiritual community do not point fingers of judgment at others, instead they allow the Spirit of God to do the convicting in their own lives through observing, reflecting and discussing their own struggles and failings. In other words, repentance is not just for non-believers and the unchurched.

Repentance is necessary for discipleship.  But according to Jesus, it is not enough to repent, to have a change of mind by observing, reflecting and discussing.  According to Jesus, one must also believe.  Now, we often think of belief as having right thoughts.  But in the Bible, “belief” is more than just intellectual assent; it also involves a corresponding change in behavior.  A story is told about the tightrope walker who asked the crowd whether they believed that he could walk across Niagara Falls on a rope while pushing a wheelbarrow.  The crowds enthusiastically replied: “Yes, we believe! We believe you can do it!”  The tightrope walker then asked, “So, which one of you is willing to sit in the wheelbarrow while I push you across the falls?”  After several seconds of awkward silence, one little boy replied, “We believe, . . . but not that much!”

How often in our lives, do we believe, but not so much as to actually stake our lives and change our behavior based on those beliefs?  I believe in exercise, but not so much as to actually go to the Y and hit the weights.  How many of us believe that a habit is not good for us, but we don’t believe in it enough to actually quit the habit?  How many of us have repented of a sin, only to backslide and stumble again and again?  According to psychologist Carl Jung, “We seldom get rid of an evil merely by understanding its causes . . . and for all our insight, obstinate habits do not disappear until replaced by other habits.  But habits are won only by exercise, and appropriate education is the sole means to this end.”[3]  So, how can we truly believe by changing our behavior and exercising a new habit?  According to Mike Breen, belief consists of three steps.  The first step is to have a plan to enact a new behavior as a result of repentance.  Then make sure that someone keeps you accountable to your plan.  The third step is to act on that plan.[4]  Once that action becomes a new habit, then you have made progress in growing as a disciple by taking on more of the character of Jesus, our divine Teacher.  And when that happens, there will be a greater chance for someone to see Christ in us when we invite them to come and see our lives.  Seen in this way, “repent and believe” is no longer an off-putting accusation of condemnation, but a challenging invitation to discipleship attractive enough for Andrew and Peter, James and John to drop what they were doing in order to follow Jesus.

In order to illustrate this dynamic in a more concrete way, I would like now to give a live demonstration of what repentance and belief looks like in a spiritual community.  A student who has been involved in our collegiate huddle will now come to share a kairos moment in her life. . .

* * * * * *

This is what goes on in our huddle discipleship groups.  As you can see, I don’t tell her what areas of her life need repentance or a change of mind.  We trust God’s Holy Spirit to convict her as she observes and reflects on her life.  I also don’t tell her how she needs to change her behavior.  We trust God’s Holy Spirit to show her that path and to help her plan her next steps.  What we do is to create an accountability structure for her to make sure that she acts on what she is sensing from God.  And she does this with a group of other people who are just as vulnerable and honest in examining and sharing their own lives.  As a result, a safe, caring and supportive spiritual community is formed among the participants, and we all help each other to grow as disciples and followers of Jesus Christ.

Repent and believe.  That is the invitation that Jesus gave to His would-be followers at the beginning of His earthly ministry.  That is the invitation that Jesus gives to His would-be followers today.  Will we accept this invitation?  Amen.

In 1954, psychologist Abraham Maslow wrote a book called Motivation and Psychology, in which he argued that human beings have a hierarchy of needs.  According to Maslow, the most basic and fundamental human need is physiological: the need for food, water, air, sleep.  Then we need safety and security: personal security, financial security, health and well-being and safety against accidents and personal harm.  After that, humans need to feel a sense of belonging and acceptance, whether it comes from a large social group, such as clubs, office culture, religious groups, professional organizations, sports teams, gangs, or small social connections (family members, intimate partners, colleagues, confidants).  They need to love and be loved by others.  In the absence of these elements, many people become susceptible to loneliness, social anxiety, and clinical depression.[1]  Maslow also identified the need for esteem and the need for self-actualization to complete his hierarchy, but for my purpose this morning, I just want to note that the need to belong, the need to be loved is a basic human need. 

But in order to be loved—truly loved—one has to be known by others.  But somehow, in the society and culture in which we live, it is hard to truly know one another.  In many cases, we’re just too busy to invest the time.  Oftentimes, we’re so busy with work, school, and other obligations, we don’t have time to fully know even our own spouses and children. 

Other times, we make quick judgments about people, and we assume that we know them already.  Back in 2005, when we told our friends in Charlottesville that we were moving to Farmville, one of our acquaintances asked us in a concerned tone: “Have you ever been to Farmville?”   I told her, “Of course we visited Farmville and the church before deciding to move there.”  I’ve come to learn that outside assumptions about Farmville does not reflect reality.

I think yet another reason why we don’t really know one another is because of fear.  It takes vulnerability to open up our lives for others to see the good, the bad and the ugly.  In doing so, we risk being rejected.  After all, if people truly know us, they may decide that they don’t like us.  Throughout all my years growing up in Shreveport, I kept all my friends at arms’ length.  It had nothing to do with them.  It had everything to do with me.  As a first-generation immigrant family, we were poor, and I was embarrassed about the neighborhood I lived in.  I went to a private high school on scholarship, and we were members of First Baptist Church, a wealthy church located in a rich part of town.  All my friends lived in nice homes in nice neighborhoods, and I was afraid that if I let them see where I lived, they might not want to associate with me anymore.  I remember one day at school, one of my classmates asked if my family had a yardman come to mow and landscape our lawn.  I lied and answered, “Yes, we did,” but I thought to myself, “and that yardman would be me.”  And so, I never invited anyone over to the house.  I was willing to suffer through the pain of loneliness because that pain seemed less than the possible pain of being rejected. 

Now maybe you’ve never had that particular struggle, but I imagine that you all have your own struggles in balancing your need for belonging and your need for emotional safety.  I imagine that at one time or another, we’ve chosen the path of shutting people out instead of inviting them into the depths of our lives.  Even in church . . . wait, perhaps especially in church, we are reluctant to risk becoming truly known because we are anxious to maintain our “good” public image.  But in doing so, we close ourselves off to the possibility of true belonging and unconditional love.  And so we sit in church, wanting to be known but at the same time fearful of the consequences.  We ask ourselves of those sitting next to us in the pews on Sunday mornings: 

Would you still accept me … if you knew about my past?

… if you knew about my present?

… if you knew about my deepest thoughts, desires and fears?

… if you knew about my deepest failures and struggles?

In the course of our anniversary interviews, we identified ourselves as a “friendly church,” and I wholeheartedly agree.  But I’ve also repeatedly heard this comment from members: “I’ve been coming to this church for years, but I still don’t know so and so.”  Could the scenario depicted by the Ann Weem’s skit this morning[2] be true of us also?  As you look around at those here in the sanctuary, are they just persons in the pew that you’ll never know? 

When Jesus began his ministry by recruiting disciples, His invitation to them was “follow me.”  Philip, fresh from that invitation, went to his friend Nathaniel and shared with him information about Jesus: “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote–Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”  But while that information about Jesus might have been correct, it was not sufficient to convince Nathaniel to follow, because Nathaniel had already made a quick judgment about this Jesus of Nazareth.  “Nazareth!  Have you even been to Nazareth?  Can anything good come from there?” Nathanael asked.  Philip could have argued with Nathaniel about the merits of Nazareth, but his only reply was, “Come and see.”  Philip did not answer Nathaniel’s question with more information.  Philip’s answer came by means of an invitation.  Come and see up close how Jesus lives his life.  Come and see His relationship with God the Father.  Come and see for yourself whether there is anything in His life worth learning, worth following, worth imitating. 

When Nathaniel decided to check Jesus out, he found out that Jesus already knew everything about him.  As the Psalm writer proclaimed, “O LORD, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.”  Before we can know and follow Christ, we are already fully known by him.  He is familiar with all our ways, because He created our inmost being and formed us in our mother’s womb.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made.  He knows our fears, our deepest thoughts, our struggles, and our failures.  Before we can even follow Christ, we are known and loved by Christ.  And He loves us enough to invite us to follow Him, to come and see a better way to live our lives. 

When we truly believe that we are fully known and loved by Christ, it gives us the freedom and the courage to open up our lives and let others in.  Because of Christ’s forgiveness, we believe that we are not determined by our past.  Because of Christ’s mercy, we have hope that our present does not dictate our future.  Because of Christ’s grace, we have faith that our deepest failings do not make us a failure.  Because of Christ’s love, we have joy that our greatest fears need not enslave us.  As Christians, we believe that when we are baptized, the Spirit of Christ comes to dwell within us.  This means that, in our present day, people should also be able to see Christ in us, as the Word becomes flesh in those who call themselves Christians.  What?  Can anything good come from sinful human beings?  Well, come and see.  No, we are not perfect like Jesus.  But come and see up close how Jesus is revealed in our lives even in the midst of our struggles.  Come and see our relationship with God the Father even in the midst of our doubts.  Come and see for yourself whether there is anything Christ-like in our life worth learning, worth following, worth imitating even in the midst of our shortcomings. 

When we look at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, Jesus’ call of Philip and Nathaniel was not so much a transfer of information, nor was it a call to mission.  It was an invitation to an epiphany, an invitation to come and see a revelation of the Son of God.  Just like Jacob received an epiphany when, in Genesis 28:12, he had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it.  There, Jacob saw the LORD God, and he called the place Bethel, “the house of God.”  Jesus mentioned this incident to Philip and Nathaniel in order to reveal that He is now the way to God, spanning heaven and earth.  And when they see Jesus, they see the house of God. 

In today’s culture, if we want more people to follow Christ, it will also have to begin with an invitation to an epiphany, to come and see the house of God, not in the brick and mortar, but to see Christ in the people of God.  If we want to make more disciples, it will have to begin with an invitation for others to know and be known, to love and be loved—both by Christ and by us.  This applies to both newcomers and to long-time members.  Everyone in our congregation needs another person in the pew who knows them and loves them. 

As I told you earlier, when I was young, I had always kept people in arm’s length.  The first person I invited to my house was Beth, and it took a lot of courage and risk for me to ask her to come visit my home.  But by the grace of God, I took the risk, and boy, was I glad I did!  As I risked opening up of myself, I also found out that Beth didn’t reject me because of the size of my house or the quality of my neighborhood.  My fears of rejection were unfounded and it freed me to love her more.  That began a journey for me to allow more people into my life, to open up myself to be known and loved by others even as I have been known and loved by God.  And as I continue to promote new discipleship groups within the church, my prayer is that more and more people here at Farmville Baptist will also have an opportunity to make this kind of journey.  A journey of discipleship that begins with an invitation to be known and loved.  Amen.  

It is so good to see you here this Christmas morning!  Isn’t it nice to be home for Christmas?  This morning, I’ve complied my “Top Ten Reasons to Stay Home for Christmas” this year.  Why don’t you count down with me?

10        High gas prices
9          Not having to pack
8          No hauling gifts around
7          No fighting holiday traffic
6          No fighting kids while fighting holiday traffic
5          No one asking every ten minutes: “Are we there yet?”
4          Being able to sleep in your own bed
3          Being able to use your own remote control while watching football
2          Making other family members jealous because they have to travel
1          The number one reason to stay home for Christmas this year: so that you can attend the Christmas morning worship service at Farmville Baptist Church!

For those of you who stayed home and are here this morning for worship, I’m so glad you’re here.  For those of you who traveled to visit family and friends in Farmville, I’m sorry that you’ve had to travel, but I’m so very glad that you’re here!

Home for Christmas.  There’s something attractive about being home for Christmas.  Perhaps it is fueled by the songs that express this longing:

“I’ll be home for Christmas”
“I’ll have a blue, blue Christmas without you . . .”
“There’s no place like home for the holidays, for the holidays you can’t beat home sweet home”

But as wonderful as it is to be home for Christmas, did you realize that almost none of the main people involved in the first Christmas were home?  Almost all of them traveled long distances to get to where they needed to be.

Mary and Joseph traveled over seventy miles of winding mountain trails from Nazareth to Bethlehem in order to register for the census.  The shepherds traveled from the outlying fields back into Bethlehem to see the baby in the manger.  Much later, the Magi, the wise men, traveled more than 1000 miles to bring gifts to the holy family.  But the one who traveled the greatest distance was God Himself.

Hear again what our Gospel Lesson from John has to say about this:

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning.”  The God who spoke time into being, this same God traveled in time in order to appear at a time when Augustus was Caesar of the Roman Empire and Quirinius was governor of Syria.

“Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.  In him was life, and that life was the light of men.”  The God who spoke the universe into being traveled great distances to enter into that creation as one life among many.

“The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.”  The God who uttered, “Let there be light!” traveled to a people living in darkness to shine His light into that darkness.

“And the Word became flesh . . .”  God who is infinite Spirit came in flesh and blood.  It reminds me of Robin Williams as the genie in the movie “Aladdin,” commenting on the irony of his life: “Infinite power – itty-bitty living space!”  How else to portray the divine irony and unlikelihood of the cosmic swirl of the creative word, smacking into the flesh of a baby?

“The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”  The word “lived” literally means “to fix one’s tabernacle.”  If you remember, the tabernacle was a tent that God told the Hebrews to set up so that His presence could live among them while they were wandering in the desert on their way to the Promised Land.  And now John was saying that this same God was pitching a tent in Bethlehem in the form of a child called “Emmanuel,” “God with us.”

On that Christmas, God spanned time and space, light and darkness, spirit and flesh in order to travel and come to us.  On that Christmas, God left his heavenly mansion with many rooms to make his home in a pup tent of frail humanity in order to be with us.

And yet, despite this enormous effort, John tells us that “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.”  How devastating that must have been, to have traveled all that distance to visit those whom he created, only to be rejected by his own people!  Will we receive him, welcome him and provide him a home for Christ in our hearts and in our lives?

“Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”  Christmas is a celebration of God’s Son leaving his home and coming in order to bring true home to us.  God desires to adopt us into his home, to welcome us into his family.

I heard about a story about Jerry, a businessman flying from LA to Chicago a few days before Christmas.  He had just completed an important business trip, and he was bone-tired.

On the flight home, he sat next to a 6-year-old boy named Michael, flying alone.  He even wore a big red tag around his neck proclaiming:  Michael Wilson.  Unaccompanied minor.”  The man wasn’t really interested in chatting with a kid, but the boy was clearly nervous – in fact, Jerry learned that the boy’s mother had recently died.  Since he had never known his father, Michael was flying to Chicago to live with his grandmother.  He carried two things with him: a manila envelope that contained his custody papers, and a grocery paper sack that contained all his earthly belongings.

As they traveled across the country, the two kept chatting, and the boy grew increasingly nervous.  As they neared Chicago, the boy grew quieter and quieter, and after the plane landed, his little mouth quivered.  His eyes brimmed with tears.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” asked Jerry.

“What if she’s not there?”  Michael asked, starting to cry.  “I never even remember meeting my grandmother before.  What if she doesn’t even want me?”

Jerry told the little boy, “Don’t worry.  I won’t leave you until your grandmother is here.”

They walked hand-in-hand off the plane, as just as they walked off the plane, they heard a warm voice.  “Is that you, baby?  Come here, Michael!  Grandma loves you so much!  Let go of that nice man, and let me give you a hug, baby!”  Michael’s grandmother knelt down and patted his skinny shoulders and started humming.  Then she lifted her head and sang.  Her strong, clear voice filled the passageway, “Jesus loves me—this I know.”

Michael’s gasps quieted as he let go of Jerry’s hand and reached for his grandma, who wrapped him in her arms.

As soon as she walked across the threshold into the terminal, cheers erupted.  From the size of the crowd, Jerry figured family, friends, pastors, elders, deacons, choir members and most of the neighbors had come to meet Michael.  They were clapping.  They held signs that read “Welcome Home.”  A tall man pulled off the red sign around Michael’s neck.  It no longer applied.

As Jerry made his way to the luggage claim, he had a spring in his step and he barely noticed the weight of his overstuffed briefcase and laptop.  A little boy was going home for Christmas.  And so was he.

Home for Christmas.  At Christmas and in life, we are looking for home and hearth and a place of belonging. But the only way that we can truly be Home for Christmas, is when Jesus the Christ has a home in us.  Will you welcome him, a visitor, yet familiar?  Will you receive him, from a place impossibly far, yet tantalizingly close?  He is the light that illuminates a vision of our true home in our real family.  He is the spark that touches in all of us the deep core of our need, our need for God, for salvation, for restoration.  This spark is a glimmer that will grow to a bright incandescence in the glorious resurrection at Easter.  But it starts here, at Christmas, in this story, at this time, in us.  “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

He came so far to be with us, to touch us all, to know and be known.  Full of grace and truth.  Welcome home, Lord Jesus!  Amen.

“Congratulations!” said the doctor to Beth and me. “Beth, you are pregnant!”

You. Are. Pregnant.  Three simple words, and yet, how they’ve changed our lives!  Beth and I had been trying to conceive for several years and after having gone through the first round of fertility treatments, we finally heard the news that we had been waiting for.  Now, I don’t know about Beth, but after the elation of those glad tidings wore off, a wave of panic began to flood my mind.  “Oh my goodness!” I thought.  “My life will never be the same!”

Well, I had no idea!  There is something about having a baby that totally rocks your world.  Rebecca Woolf has written that when you have a baby, a lot of things change.  You finally stop to smell the roses, because your baby is in your arms.  The sacrifices you thought you made to have a child no longer seem like sacrifices. Bodily functions are no longer repulsive; in fact, they please you. (Hooray for poop!)  Others mentioned that once you have a baby, you give parents with a screaming child an “I-know-the-feeling” look instead of a “Can’t-they-shut-him-up?” one.  You also start to appreciate Sesame Street for its intellectual contribution.[1]

But let’s be honest, in addition to wonderful changes, having a baby can also make disruptive changes to your life.  In having a baby, parents have to let go of some things.  They have to let go of some independence.  As a parent, I came to realize that I can’t just do what I want, or go someplace on a whim . . . well, not if I wanted to stay married.  With a baby, it takes at least five times longer just to get out the door, because along with the baby, you’re also bringing diapers, wipes, the snugli, the burping cloth, and the car seat.  By the time you pack all that, sometimes you forget where you were going in the first place!  Furthermore, as a parent, I had to learn to let go of what some things I was used to doing in the past.  Before babies, I was used to sleeping uninterrupted all night.  With babies, parents, especially mothers, no longer take sleep for granted.

As new parents, Beth and I struggled for sleep, whether Thea and Wes were crying at night (we wondered, why can’t they fall asleep?) or whether they were sleeping peacefully (we wondered, are they still breathing?!).  Perhaps the worst time for our sleep came after Wesley’s birth.   If it wasn’t Wesley waking up crying, it was Thea crawling in bed with us.  It’s almost as if our kids had a system worked out before they went to bed.  Thea might say, “Wes, it’s your turn tonight to wake Mom and Dad up, because I’m exhausted.”

So let’s face it, welcoming a baby can disrupt your life.  Mary knew all about that.  Engaged to be married to Joseph, this teenage girl’s world was rocked upside down when a divine messenger appeared before her and told her that she was going to have a baby.  Yes, we are all aware of Mary’s problem of being an out-of-wedlock mother bearing a child that wasn’t Joseph’s.  But have you ever considered what a challenge it would be to raise a child who was going to be called the Son of the Most High and expected to rule from the throne of David?  Sure, that sounds good on the surface, but think about the pressure.  Many parents today struggle under the expectation for their kids to make good grades and be accepted to a good college.  We remind our kids, “Go do your homework!”  We nag, “How’s that project coming?”  We cajole, “If you keep slacking off, you won’t get accepted at UVa, and you’ll end up at Tech!”  Now, can you imagine the added pressure if you were trying to groom your child to be the President of the United States?  “Start working on your policy toward Libya!”  “Now repeat after me, the Department of Commerce, Education, and . . . Energy!”

Mary was told that she would bear a child who was going to rule a kingdom in the midst of the Roman Empire, the greatest, most powerful earthly kingdom the world had ever seen to date.  Caesar called himself “the Son of God” and he was ruthless in getting rid of anyone who dared to claim that title.  When the angel pronounced to Mary that she would give birth to a son and he would be given the throne of his father David, what Mary most likely heard was not a life of status and ease as queen mother.  What Mary most likely heard was a death sentence on Jesus.  Caesar would tolerate no challengers to this throne, and if the angel’s pronouncement were true, Mary would have to prepare herself for a time when her baby will experience great pain and rejection.  She would have to brace herself for a future that would include the execution of her son.  And any mother will tell you that her baby’s pain feels much worse than her own.  Can you imagine what Mary must have felt when she heard the prophecy of Simeon in Luke 2:34-35?  After Simeon blessed Mary and Jesus, he said to Mary: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.  And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

“Greetings,” proclaimed the angel, “you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”  It is hard to miss the irony of such a greeting.  There are not a lot of us who would consider ourselves highly favored by the Lord when such “favor” would include a future of pain and loss as a result of the premature loss of one’s child.  Now we understand why Mary was greatly troubled at the angel’s words, because we know how a mother’s instinct can sense what is going to happen.  Now we also understand why the angel said, “Do not be afraid,” because God knows how fearful we become when the future is out of our control, even when that future is something we highly desire.  Consider this: who wants a future that does not saddle future generations with debt?  But so far, our country’s leaders have been unwilling to forge a solution to this problem for fear of losing power.  Our leaders, our corporations, our political system, and our citizens are unwilling to let go of some of our benefits and privileges for the sake of the common good.  It’s OK to cut the benefits of others, but not ours.  It’s OK to tax others, but not us.  Let someone else bear the burden for our prosperity.  Let someone else labor for our comfort.  Let someone else’s lives be disrupted for our safety.

Similarly, God’s people had been praying for the restoration of David’s throne for centuries, and their prayers were never so fervent as in Mary’s day when the people of God were subjugated by the Roman Empire.  This restoration was to come through a baby within the lineage of David.  This redemption of humanity was being birthed in an infant.  This salvation of the world was to come through a child born of a mother.  And yet, when asked to receive this child, I wonder if Mary was ever tempted to say: “Let someone else bear the burden of our restoration,” “Let someone else labor for our redemption,” and “Let someone else’s life be disrupted for our salvation”?  And are we ever tempted to say: “Sure, let Jesus reign . . . as long as he does not disrupt my life and my plans for my future,” and “Sure, may Jesus’ kingdom never end . . . as long as he does not interfere with the way we do things in our country and in our church”?

Come to think about it, it is really we who first disrupted Jesus’ life of joyful communion with his heavenly Father.  Because of our sin and disobedience, Jesus interrupted the life that he had known in order to be born as a human baby to a peasant couple in a little village.  As the apostle Paul so powerfully pronounced in Romans 5:8, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”  Jesus Christ let go of his privilege and comfort in order to enter fully into our human condition full of suffering and sorrow and death.  But not all received him as the Gospel writer wrote so eloquently about Jesus in John 1:11-14: “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.  Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God–children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.  The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

When Jesus first came, his own did not receive him.  Will we receive this Christ child and allow Him to make his dwelling among us?  If so, He will disrupt our lives.  Even as Christians, many of us are comfortable in our daily patterns, and we are reluctant to change.  And even when we are no longer comfortable with certain areas of our lives, we find it hard to allow Jesus to disrupt our harmful habits, our addictions, our patterns of worry and anxiety.   We are fearful of letting go of things that worked well for us in the past, even though they do not work so well for us in the present.  But it is precisely in these situations that we desperately need the baby Jesus to disrupt our lives, to disrupt our complacency, to disrupt the places where we are stuck.  Like a farmer who tills the earth and disrupts the soil hardened by the cold of winter, the Spirit of God comes to disrupt and loosen the soil of our hearts so that the seed of God’s Word might take root and grow and bear fruit.  What is at stake here is a barren future versus a fruitful future.  A barren future is based on fear.  A fruitful future is based on faith.  Faith means letting go of our independence and putting our trust and dependence on God.  Do not be afraid.

In the months leading up to our anniversary celebration, Jay Lynn conducted a series of interviews to ask various groups within the church about our past and our present.  The answers have been published in a graphical format in this month’s newsletter, and they are also posted on our website.  And for those of you who were at the church’s anniversary celebration, you also saw a video of some of the interviews and answers.  In the coming year, as part of our on-going anniversary year celebration, Jay will schedule more gathering and listening sessions to help us prayerfully consider and discern the future direction that God has for us.  God is always doing a new thing in the life of God’s people.

However, welcoming God’s future into our lives is not for the timid or the faint of heart.  Instead of unthinkingly saying “yes,” it’s probably better to consider the cost and to ask questions.  Mary herself asked the angel, “How will this be, since I am a virgin?”  For us, we might ask, “How will this be, since we’ve never done it this way before?”  But when we put our faith and trust in God, God has proven over and over again that when things seem to come to a dead end, God specializes in preparing a way that leads to life.  For nothing is impossible with God.  In Christ, all things are possible, from a virgin birth to the birth of new ministries the likes of which this community has never seen before.  This Sunday, God is announcing that the Holy Spirit will come upon Farmville Baptist and the power of the Most High will overshadow us so that a new future is birthed into our lives.  The question for us is “Will we provide a loving reception for God’s plan of salvation for our community through the lives of the members of this church?”

On this last Sunday in Advent, we are reminded that Christians do not celebrate a romanticized notion of a cuddly, adorable, harmless baby Jesus.   Even as a baby, Jesus came to disrupt the lives of Mary, of Joseph, of Caesar Augustus.  Ultimately, Jesus came to disrupt even the evil powers and principalities of this world.  This Sunday, we hear the announcement that the baby Jesus is coming, and as babies are wont to do, the Christ child will come to disrupt our lives.  When Mary heard that announcement, she responded with a loving reception, “I am the Lord’s servant.  May it be to me as you have said.”

How will we respond?

Amen.

Today is the third Sunday of Advent, a Sunday that is focused on joy.  Joy seems to be a rare commodity in our world these days.  In fact, it seems everywhere we turn, enemies of joy are lurking in every corner.   On Thursday, the Washington Post reported that Americans’ wealth last summer suffered its biggest quarterly loss in more than two years as stocks, pension funds, and home values lost value.  On that same day, there was another shooting at Virginia Tech.  In a world such as this, where is there a place for joy?

Thousands of years ago, our spiritual ancestors faced a similar situation.  The Israelites, who were exiled in a hostile and foreign land, were finally able to return home.  But going home to Jerusalem wasn’t all that was cracked up to be.  For them, going home meant being confronted with the ruins of that once-great city.  It meant being overwhelmed by the devastation of the city walls, their security.  It meant the heart-ache of seeing the charred remains of the Temple, their beloved place of worship known as the house of God.  What remained were the rubble of rocks strewn like dried bones, jagged stumps of once-proud trees, and the picked-over remains of pottery and utensils that even looters didn’t want.  In their exile, and now, in their return, they experienced the loss of their homes, imprisonment, death, broken hearts, fear and anxiety.  In a world such as theirs, where was there a place for joy?

It was precisely in the middle of the ruins of Jerusalem that the divine messenger announced the good news.  This word from God spoke into being a vision of an alternate reality, one that was not based on the constraints of a fallen and broken world, but one that announced the coming of God’s peaceable kingdom.  In this place of despair and loss, this alternate vision showed to the mourners a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.  In the wasteland of burnt and charred trees surrounding Jerusalem, these returnees will be called oaks of righteousness.  In the aftermath of the destruction of war, they will rebuild the city, restore the wall, and renew the Temple that have been devastated for generations.  In giving a vision of a restored Jerusalem, the divine messenger gave an alternate vision of hope, and joyful expectation of a brighter future.

However, God’s alternate vision was not limited to the physical restoration of Jerusalem.  God’s vision was much deeper and bigger than that.  “For I love justice; I hate robbery and iniquity,” declared the Lord in verse 8.  In addition to a physical restoration, of His city, God envisioned nothing less than the moral restoration and the spiritual renewal of the hearts, the minds and the society of His people.  Any kind of physical restoration in the house of God would not be complete without the moral restoration of the people of God.  Renewal in the city of God would not only include the restoring of the wall and the infrastructure, but also the rebuilding of the fabric of society so that the poor were cared for, the captives freed, the grieving comforted, and injustice made right.  And when that kind of renewal occurred among the Israelites, then all nations would see and acknowledge that they were indeed God’s covenant people, a people chosen and blessed by God so that they can bless others.

We often assume that joy comes only when things go our way and we get what we want.  But let me tell you a secret: joy cannot be pursued for its own sake.  Those who chase after joy or happiness are sure to miss it.  Joy is not the product of outward circumstances; it is the by-product of inner transformation.  For followers of Jesus, joy comes from the inner transformation of delighting in the Lord, sometimes even in spite of our external circumstances.  Joy is not dependent on what we have or don’t have.  Joy is dependent on who has us.  When the Lord Jesus has us, we are clothed with God’s garments of salvation and God’s robe of righteousness.  When Jesus is our Lord, we trust that, even in the seasons of winter in our lives, the joy of spring is surely coming.  Isaiah says, “For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.”

On this third Sunday of Advent, we see signs of the physical transformation of Main Street with the garland, lights and bows.  We see the physical renewal of our sanctuary with the hanging of the greens and the setting up of the Chrismon tree.  We see the outward transformation of our homes with Christmas trees, lights, nativity sets, and stockings hung with care.  As beautiful as these things are, these decorations will not go very far in causing righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

But what if this physical renewal is accompanied by the spiritual renewal of our hearts, minds and hands?  What if God’s covenant people pronounce and work for an alternate vision for those in our community who cannot afford to pay their utilities and buy their children presents at the same time.  One small way to do that is to buy presents for a child on our Christmas Angel tree.  Also, what if God’s covenant people envision and work for a homeless shelter in our community?  A group in town is doing just that, and on January 5, there’s a meeting at the Methodist church to see how local churches can help in this endeavor.  Additionally, what if God’s covenant people envision and work to release those who are captive to a vicious cycle of poor diet and poor health?  Volunteering for Meals on Wheels or FACES is one step toward this alternative vision.  Another is supporting the Heart of Virginia Free Clinic that is housed at the former Daily Grind building.  They will have an open house this Monday afternoon.  An alternate reality for the renewal and restoration of our community is coming, and if God’s covenant people would proclaim and work for this alternate reality, I truly believe that this would bring a sense of joyful expectation from the poor, the exiled and homeless, the brokenhearted and the captives.  As the people of God are spiritually renewed to proclaim and make real the good news of God, I truly believe righteousness and praise will spring up before all the nations.

When there is inner transformation based on our delight in God, the by-product is joy, in others and in ourselves.  This joy is like being invited to join a wedding feast, where the bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and the bride adorns herself with jewels.  When Katie Hosking decided to break up with her fiancé in June of 2005, it was only 12 days before the wedding.  Along with her parents, Katie had reserved a country club for the reception. With 150 invited guests, the cost was $6,200.  Club policy required 60 days notice for any cancellation, meaning the Hoskings were required to pay the full amount.  So when Katie finally cancelled the wedding, the family decided to have a party anyway.  In place of wedding guests, Katie and her parents invited the residents of the Interfaith Family Shelter to a country club banquet.  More than 50 close family friends joined 40 homeless people, and together they had a joyous time dancing and feasting on beef, salmon, shrimp cocktail, fettuccine, and fruit.  Strawberry shortcake replaced the wedding cake.  Afterwards they packed up the leftover food and sent it back to the shelter.  It was enough to feed the homeless for several more days.

In the midst of a ruined wedding, Katie was able to see an alternate vision that looked beyond herself and her current situation. And a failed wedding feast was transformed into a festive jubilee for the poor, the downtrodden and the outcast.  As a result of that feast, joy returned to Katie and redeemed her own situation, while at the same time, it brought blessing and joy to many where both were in short supply.

And this morning, Jesus Christ, the bridegroom of the church, invites us to a similar feast.  In the midst of his suffering and pending death, Jesus was able to see an alternate vision of how his broken body and shed blood can be transformed into a feast of forgiveness, and as a result, Jesus was able to bring blessing and joy to us when both were in short supply.  Therefore, the Lord’s Supper can also be celebrative and joyful — not because of our circumstance, not because of what we’ve done, but because of what Christ has already accomplished on the cross.   At the communion table, we are told we are no longer exiles, but we have a home in Christ.  At the last supper, we are reminded that the ruined rubble of our lives can be redeemed, and that suffering and death are overcome in Christ.  At this feast of forgiveness, we are nourished to proclaim the good news and participate in God’s alternate reality that joyfully anticipates the restoration and the renewal of God’s good creation.

O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here– until the Son of God appear.  Rejoice! Rejoice!  Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Come, Lord Jesus!  Amen.

On this first Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of hope. It seems that we all need a measure of hope these days. The economy is still struggling, not just in America, but throughout the world. People are getting restless about the growing disparity between the rich and the poor. There’s instability in many governments throughout the globe. We are not certain about the kind of future that our children will face when they grow into adulthood. Many are mired in the depths of an economic recession, while others are struggling in the depths of a psychological depression. These are unstable times that we’re living in, and we hope that better days are ahead.

In our Old Testament Lesson today, the psalm writer was crying out to the Lord from out of the depths. We don’t know the exact circumstance that is causing him to feel like he is in the depths, but the psalm writer is crying out because of his sin, crying out because of a need for forgiveness and mercy, because of a need to be made whole and to be redeemed. Yet, even in this state, the psalm writer makes this proclamation: “I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” In dire straights, the psalmist is engaged in hopeful waiting.

When we use the word “hope,” we often mean our desire for something good to happen in the future, but we’re uncertain whether it will take place or not. For example: “I hope the Washington Redskins will have a winning season,” means, “I desire that the Redskins will win more games than they lose this season, but I don’t have any certainty that they will achieve that.” I also hoped that UVa would beat Tech yesterday in football . . . and, as we all now know, my uncertainty regarding that outcome was well-founded! I guess there’s always next year!

You see, in everyday conversations, we use the word “hope” to express our desire for a certain outcome in the face of uncertainty. But in the Bible, when the word “hope” is used in relationship to God, there is an expectation, a confidence that it will happen, as confident as a watchman looking for signs that the sun is about to rise in the morning. As Pastor John Piper puts it: “Biblical hope is never based on what is possible with man. Biblical hope looks away from man to the promise of God.” Therefore, “whenever faith in God looks to the future, it can be called hope.”

As Christians, we have hope in our future because we have faith that our future is secured and fulfilled in God. But that future is not yet a present reality. Just like the hour before sunrise, when it is darkest before the dawn, there is still a gap in time between our current dark situation and the bright future that is promised to us by God. And this is where waiting comes in. In our culture, waiting is a bad thing. We are almost trained to want fast food, one-click shopping, instant streaming of movies, and no-wait customer service. I was at the grocery store earlier this week getting several things for our Thanksgiving meal, and of course, I got behind a really slow customer. While she was counting out her change, I found myself getting impatient, looking over at other aisles only to see customers who were about the same place in other lines already checked out and out the door. I had to remind myself to take several deep breaths and remember that everything was going to be OK, and that it wasn’t the end of the world. But I wondered why waiting a couple more minutes was getting me all irritated.

The Bible depicts many people who waited a long time in order to live into the future that God had for them. Jacob waited seven years before he was able to marry the girl he loved. Joseph waited for years in a prison before he was finally freed to become a high official in Egypt. Mary waited for nine months before she gave birth to Jesus. Jacob, Joseph and Mary all had to wait. But they did not just sit there, arms crossed, twiddling their thumbs, passively waiting for God to do God’s thing. No, they spent that time of waiting preparing for the future that God had promised. Jacob labored for seven years under his uncle Laban in order to win Rachel’s hand in marriage. Joseph’s time in prison was a graduate course in humility to prepare him to rule with compassion. Mary’s pregnancy was a time for the son of God to literally grow inside her so that Jesus could be birthed in the fullness of time.

I think a pregnancy is a wonderful image of what it means to engage in hopeful waiting. When a woman is pregnant, she doesn’t just lounge around watching TV and eating potato chips while passively waiting for the baby to pop out. The waiting that takes place is usually active in preparation for the birth. She may change her diet to eat healthier foods. She may quit habits like smoking and drinking alcohol. She may exercise more to strengthen her body. She may renovate a guest room to turn it into a nursery. She may begin to envision what a future would look like with this new child.

But while there are many things that a mother-to-be can do during her time of pregnant waiting, there are also many things that she cannot do. She cannot speed up the process or take a short-cut; she can’t decide to deliver the baby in four months. There are no quick-fixes for morning sickness or late-term fatigue. Instead, this period of waiting invites a woman to be present in her pregnancy, to “be here now,” to notice the changes in her body, the development and movement of the fetus. During this time of gestation, there are many things that are beyond a mother’s control, and she has to learn to trust her body and the growth of the fetus. And most of all, this time of waiting is an invitation to pray, to ask for and trust in God’s grace and care for that child. In a healthy pregnancy, there is hope in the sense of expectation and anticipation that a baby will be born, but even then, there is waiting for the fullness of time for the birth to take place. I think these are all reminders to us parents that our children were never ours to possess in the first place. While we play a crucial and important part in bringing children into the world and raising them up, they are, in the final analysis, gifts from God, and they belong to God and not to us.

While I find the image of pregnancy to be a wonderful image of what it means to engage in hopeful waiting, about half of you in this sanctuary may not see how this could apply to your life. Perhaps all of us, then, might consider these questions that come at the idea a little differently. What do you think God is wanting to birth in your life? As you reflect on your life, how do you bridge the gap between where you are right now and where God wants you to be?

Some of us this morning are probably feeling OK about ourselves . . . our lives are not in turmoil, we feel like we have our future pretty much under control. We have pretty much what we want, and we don’t feel like we need to wait on anything. That’s not necessarily a bad place to be, but this current situation may mask our true spiritual condition. It is easy to trust in God when things are going our way. But what happens when things go south, when our business dwindles, when our health fails? Can we still trust God for our future without being excessively anxious, fearful and controlling? Can we continue to be generous toward others without obsessing over our future and our problems? Might our comfort and ease make us less open to the new thing that God is trying to birth in our lives? Might we be guilty of the sin of self-sufficiency?

Some of us this morning know exactly what the psalm writer is experiencing. We are in the depths. For some, it is due to situations we can’t control, but for others, it is because of our mistakes, our failures and our sins. We are crying out to God for help, and God seems awfully slow to respond. Can we hope in God, trusting that in the fullness of time, an answer will come? Can we let go of our need to control God’s timing, and let God shepherd us through a time of hopeful waiting?

Some of us this morning are neither feeling OK about ourselves, nor are we crying out. We are just going through the motions. We are bored and we’re looking for things to entertain and amuse us. Walter Benjamin once recounted the story of a 19th century Paris neurologist whose patient was complaining of boredom. The physician performed a thorough physical examination. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” pronounced the doctor. “Just try to relax—find something to entertain you. Go see Deburau some evening, and life will look different to you,” said the physician, referring to a popular French comic and mime.
“Ah, dear sir,” responded the patient, “I am Deburau.”
“We are bored,” said Benjamin, “when we don’t know what we are waiting for.”

On this first Sunday of Advent, we know that we are waiting for Jesus, God’s promised One, to come into our world and into our lives, to mend our brokenness by his unfailing love, to forgive us of the sin of our self-sufficiency and boredom, and to redeem us for a mission no less audacious than the redemption of the world. We are waiting for the birth of Christ and for the birth of our full humanity in Christ.

In our hopeful waiting, let us ask ourselves these questions:
What are some things we need to change?
What bad habits do we need to drop?
What do we need to exercise more?
What do we need to set up to receive Jesus?
What future do we envision with this Christ child?

We are hopeful, not as in wishful thinking, but we hope in God, because we expect and trust that God’s future will be done on earth as it is in heaven, in our lives and in our church. And we are waiting, not passively, but actively in preparation for God’s coming. In our hopeful waiting, may we be ready when Christ comes. Come, Lord Jesus. Come! Amen.

“No one ever steps into the same river twice,” said the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who believed that change is ever-present in the universe. Others throughout history have agreed with him, and we’ve probably heard people say “Change is the only constant,” and “nothing is permanent except change.”  As we look out in our world today, we can literally see and feel change in the air.  Autumn is upon us.  Daylight is growing shorter, the temperature is getting cooler, and the leaves are turning colors.  The changing of the seasons is part of the cycle of life we live in, and we see that not only in nature, but also in our individual lives.  I visited with one of our church members at Holly Manor this past week and the first thing she told me was that, it’s been a long time since I’ve come by to visit her!  But as she got to talking, she recalled the changes that took place in her life that led her to Holly Manor.  She said that while living alone in a nursing home was not her first choice, she is at peace with it and is making the best out of it for her sake and for the sake of her family members.  There was a lot of letting go and some grieving that had to take place before she could get to the place where she is now.

The seasons of life change not only in our weather or in our individual lives, but also in the life of a people.  In this morning’s Old Testament lesson, the people of Israel were facing a season of change.  Moses, their strong leader for over forty years had died, and like it or not, changes were about to take place.  I wonder what kinds of memories the people of Israel had as they closed out one chapter of their life in preparation for a new beginning and a new future? 

As you know, we’ve just celebrated our 175^th anniversary last Sunday, and that occasion brought a lot of opportunities for many of us to reflect and reminisce on our past.  One of things I enjoyed most was the opportunity to reconnect with many of our former pastors and staff members and hearing their stories and their memories.  Many of them wrote letters of congratulations to the church.  I’ve posted them on our website, but this morning, I want to share excerpts from those letters.

From Everette Chapman, former pastor, 1967-1969 – I have many wonderful memories of my brief ministry there during some of the truly-exciting years of ministry to town and gown.  So very many of those faces no longer appear in the congregation on Sundays there, having joined the Church above.  I recall them with tenderness and joy.  Many of your church leaders now were youngsters when I was there.  I even coached Gene Watson as a junior varsity basketball player at Prince Edward Academy.  He was the best defensive player we had.

From Jason Thrower, former pastor, 1997-2004 – As a former pastor of Farmville Baptist, this great family of faith, I am grateful to have played a small part in your history.  I have fond memories of serving FBC.  FBC has a proud history and tradition of being a light for Christ for your community.

From Susan Joyce, former associate pastor, 1999-2005 – Greetings in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and best wishes on this celebration of your 175th anniversary. While I was a student at BTSR I had the privilege of doing a project on the history of Farmville Baptist for my Baptist Tradition class. Yours is a rich heritage, and your foundation is strong. The spirit of revival and awakening is what started Farmville Baptist, and that spirit continues today. You were leaders in the movement that saw the discrepancies in the Southern Baptist Convention and sought to form a more unified and inclusive organization, the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, that upheld the fundamental Baptist traditions of the priesthood of the believer, soul freedom, separation of church and state, and of the Bible as the living and breathing and fluid word of God. Because you stood firm on those principles you were willing to accept the fact that God can and does call women to gospel ministry, and were willing to affirm that calling in me. I will always be grateful for your support and encouragement in giving me the opportunity to live out my calling in tangible ways. Yours were not empty words, but rather words backed by action. I am grateful to Dr. Thrower, and to his mentor, Dr. Molly Marshall, who impressed upon Jason as a young student at Southern Seminary the urgency and necessity of recognizing and supporting the call of women. Dr. Thrower embraced Molly’s words as his own, and his actions in leading you to call me are a testimony to his willingness to stand behind his beliefs.

From Bill Wilson, former pastor, 1987-1992 – I count it as a great honor to be among those who have had the privilege of serving you as one of your ministers. Those five years (1987-1992) were pivotal ones for me and for my family. You were such a gracious, generous, and supportive congregation to us. You allowed me to learn to pastor “on the job”, you helped us raise our children, you blessed us with your affection, and you accepted the challenge of God’s call and dream as a people. We did some amazing things and had such a memorable time. Our family was forever blessed by you and by our time among you. When we speak of you, a smile always breaks across our face and we hold fond memories of those special days among you.

Each one of these individuals reflects a different season in the history of Farmville Baptist Church, but despite the changes in leadership, changes in membership, changes in denominational association, changes in ministry emphasis, one thing did not change.  Jesus Christ was and continues to be the unchanging Lord of Farmville Baptist.  Of course, we did not follow our Lord perfectly, just as the people of Israel or even Moses could not follow the Lord perfectly.  But just as the Lord was with the Israelites, the Lord was with Farmville Baptist Church, and continues to be with us as we look toward our future.  God is bigger than any human leader of any church.  God’s mission is bigger than the lifetime of any church member or even the lifetime of any one church.  After Moses passed away, God raised up a new leader in Joshua to lead a new generation of Israelites into the Promised Land.  Moses himself laid hands on Joshua to bless him in this leadership task.  And God himself encouraged Joshua to “Be strong and courageous.  Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

As we go through changing seasons in our lives, let us be reminded of our unchanging Lord.  As we ordain and install new deacons to minister among us today, let us lay our hands and bless them and encourage them in their service.  As we look toward the future that God has for us as a church, may our Lord grant us strength and courage to be the unchanging presence of Christ in the midst of a changing world.  Amen.

Today, we celebrate the 175^th anniversary of Farmville Baptist Church.  What a wonderful occasion to have all of you here—church members, former ministers and staff, representatives from our Baptist associations and the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, friends and neighbors.  What an honor it is to have you here with us to commemorate this significant event in the life of Farmville Baptist.  In Old Testament days, the Israelites commemorated significant events in their lives by erecting memorial stones as a way to give thanks to the glory of God.  Jacob set up a stone and called it “house of God” after he had a vision of a ladder to heaven and realized that God was with him even as he ran for his life.[1]  Joshua commanded that twelve memorial stones be set up at the Jordan River, marking the significant event of the Israelites finally crossing over to the Promised Land.[2]  In our Old Testament lesson today, the prophet Samuel erected a memorial stone after the Israelites defeated the Philistines in a significant battle.  Samuel named the stone “Ebenezer” which literally means “the stone of help.”  This stone was huge; it was erected like a monument raised upright standing twenty to thirty feet tall.  It could be seen for miles and from that time on through succeeding generations, every time the Israelites saw it, it would remind them of how God has helped them thus far.

Earlier this morning, we sang the hymn, “Come Thou Found of Every Blessing” in which the second verse says: “Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I’m come.”  And so this morning, like the ancient Israelites, we come raising our Ebenezer acknowledging and celebrating the ways in which God has helped us thus far in the victories we’ve achieved and the significant events we’ve experienced in our one hundred and seventy-five years of existence as a church. 

We come thanking God for the three individuals who founded Farmville Baptist Church: Rev. Elijah Roach,[3] Rev. Daniel Witt, pastor of our mother church Sharon Baptist, and Rev. William Moore, our founding pastor from 1836 to 1840.  We come acknowledging the twenty-three pioneers who were the charter members of this church, and we note that two of them, Samuel and Phil White, were African-American.  We come remembering former pastor James Nelson who appeared before the governor and legislature of Virginia in 1884 to lobby successfully for the establishment of the Female Normal School, which would later become Longwood College and University.  We come to show gratitude to Rev. Willis Wayts, who pastored Farmville Baptist from 1912 to 1915, when this present building was erected.  Rev. Wayts wrote letters to philanthropist Andrew Carnegie on twenty five consecutive Monday mornings asking for his help in purchasing an organ.  The twenty-fifth letter brought a reply, in which Carnegie agreed to give an Estey Pipe Organ to the church provided that the church raise $980, which was fifty-percent of the price.  This amount was soon raised, and the dedication of the new church building – along with the organ — took place on November 1, 1914.

As we look around this beautiful sanctuary, we realize we are the beneficiaries of the sacrifices of preceding generations.  In some ways, this building is their Ebenezer stone to us, as they erected, brick by brick, stone by stone, organ pipe by organ pipe, this house of God.  But as those saints who raised this Ebenezer would quickly remind us, today is not about them nor about this building.  Memorial stones were never meant to draw attention to themselves.  They were raised to point beyond themselves, to the presence and the help of our loving and faithful God.

The Ebenezer stone that Samuel raised was not meant to show succeeding generations just how powerful the Israelites were in defeating their enemies.  In fact, when you look up the word “Ebenezer” in the Bible, you’ll see that it shows up two other times earlier in 1 Samuel.  And in both, Ebenezer was the place where the Israelites suffered brutal, agonizing defeats at the hands of the Philistines.  I find it instructive that after this victory, Samuel would name the memorial stone “Ebenezer,” not only as a way to commemorate a decisive victory, but also as a way to remember two devastating losses.  I believe Samuel was saying that God’s help was not only present in their victory, but also in their defeats.  God did not abandon God’s people.  There was no triumphalism in raising the Ebenezer stone that day; there was only a joyful acknowledgement of the faithfulness and mercy and the power of God.

The same can be said today.  We come today, not to pat ourselves on the back to say how great we are.  We come today to praise God and to proclaim how great God is.  God’s faithfulness is ever sure and his mercy is everlasting in the midst of both our victories and our losses.  If these walls could talk, they might tell us not only of the heyday of pews filled past capacity, but they might also remind us of darker days, times when the church struggled over issues such as race or power.  These situations and eras led to the exclusion of some and the departure of others.  These walls might talk to us about times of questioning and loss, whether we were contemplating events that were hard to understand, or whether we were mourning the passing of some of the many saints this church has raised and equipped.  Every church is marked by both victory and challenge.  The Bible itself tells the story of how God’s people, and even the leaders of God’s people, are flawed even as they strain for faithfulness.

So, like the Israelites of long ago, we do not raise an Ebenezer simply to celebrate our triumphs!  Instead, we raise our Ebenezer to joyfully acknowledge the abiding help of God, the saving grace of Christ, and the powerful presence of the Holy Spirit.  We no longer erect giant stones to commemorate God’s faithfulness.  Instead, according to 1 Peter 2:4-5, God himself has raised a “living stone” for us in Jesus Christ, who was “rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him.”  Therefore, continues Peter, “you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.”

And so today, we give thanks for living stones like former pastor Les Giles, who, during his time here, assisted the Foreign Mission Board with evangelistic crusades in India and started a daily devotional program made available to people dialing in by telephone.  We give thanks for the holy priesthood of women in this church, including Peggy Cave, Emma Lee Patteson and Rose Ingram, who were elected as our first female deacons during the pastorate of Steve Teague.  We give thanks to former associate pastor Charles Miller, who made a lasting impact upon the youth of our church.  We give thanks for the spiritual sacrifices of those who led the church on numerous mission trips and spearheaded the last major church building renovation under the pastorate of Bill Wilson.  We give thanks to those living stones who, under the leadership of Dave Ramsey, participated in a “unity walk” among the churches in town in response to a rash of church burnings in 1995.  We give thanks to former pastor Jason Thrower, who started a Mothers for Preschoolers Program and supported Susan Joyce’s calling into the pastoral ministry.  And aside from our previous pastors, we give overflowing thanks for the holy priesthood who have cooked meals to share with the sick or the grieving; who have welcomed college students into their families; who have brought hope to the Piedmont Regional Jail; who have filled grocery bags for the hungry; who have stooped to pick up highway trash; who have prayed and written prayer cards; who have traveled to offer assistance after natural disasters; who have given faithfully to support the church and our missions partners; who have dedicated years, even decades, to teaching Sunday School or singing in the choir or serving in ways that we might never fully know.

I can go on and on, for you see, when I look out at this congregation, I see living stones being transformed into a holy priesthood, and I say, “Here we raise our Ebenezer.  Hither by Thy help we’ve come.”

Thanks be to God for the first 175 years in the history of Farmville Baptist! May God be our help as God leads us into our future!  Amen.

There was a man who was born into a good religious family.  At an early age, he displayed great intelligence and a deep faith.  His family, at a great cost, sent him to study under a world famous teacher at the best theological school of the day.  After graduation, his career was on the fast-track up, and he was making a name for himself.  But one day, inexplicably, he notified his parents that he had joined a new religious cult.  His parents couldn’t believe it, and they disowned him.  His former friends and colleagues now called him a traitor and rejected him.  And as he constantly went about traveling to distant lands, he was exposed to danger everywhere, and often in hunger and in thirst.  Several times, he was beaten, stoned, flogged, and jailed for his zeal in spreading the ideas of this new faith.

This man’s name was Paul, formerly Saul of Tarsus, and now, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for his trial before the Emperor Nero, who would determine whether he would live or die.  He had lost everything that was once of value to him—the privileges of his upbringing, his impeccable credentials, and his accomplishments.  Now, he’s even separated from his friends and supporters, and his future is in doubt.  By all rights, Paul would be justified for being a little down in the dumps.  But as Paul sits down to write a letter to his friends at the church in Philippi, he finishes his epistle by telling them: “Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!”

How can one be joyful in such a situation?  How can one be joyful when one has lost and suffered so much?  There is a “Peanuts” cartoon in which Lucy asks Charlie Brown, “Did you ever know anyone who was really happy . . .” And before she can finish the question, Snoopy comes dancing into the next frame – feet pitter-pattering, ears flopping, with a smile spread wide across his face – and he dances his merry way in front of Lucy and Charlie Brown while they watch in amazement.  In the last frame, Lucy finishes her question, “Did you ever know anyone who was really happy . . .  and was still in their right mind?”

Lucy the psychiatrist has a point.  We don’t expect people who are joyful, who are really happy in all circumstances, to be in their right mind.  Somehow, most of us are conditioned to believe that it is NOT normal and right to be joyful all the time.  That’s because, in our own lives, we think about the bad things and we focus on the negatives even when things are going relatively well.  Many of you can probably remember the times when you were having a great day, or getting good feedback from your boss and co-workers about your job performance, or making pretty good grades at school . . . and then someone comes along and points out a mistake you’ve made, or says something critical about you.  Suddenly, no matter how good your day has been, you’re in a funk.  You’re no longer thinking about how well things are going.  All you can think about is that one negative comment, and it starts to lead you on a downward spiral.

Many of us have scripts that we play in the back of our minds in reaction to life’s situations.  Many of those scripts are negative and they tell us: “You’re no good.  You’re worthless.  You’ll never succeed.  People are out to get you.”  I find that dynamic to be true in some of the clients that I coach.  Oftentimes, they dwell on the negatives, either in their past or in their present.  They focus on how far away they still are from their goals.  Sometimes, they obsess about the times they’ve fallen short.  In those cases, I try to bring into their minds just how far they’ve progressed, to celebrate their successes, to highlight the true, the noble, the lovely, the admirable, the excellent and the praiseworthy in their lives, and I ask them to think about those things.  I’ve found that what we think can lead to how we feel and act.

Someone once said: When the Methodist minister falls down the stairs, she picks herself up and thinks, “That was an experience, how do I learn from it?”  When the Catholic priest falls down the stairs, he shakes his head and thinks, “I must have done something really bad to deserve that.”  When the Presbyterian minister falls down the stairs, she stays down for a moment and thinks, “That was predestined, I’m glad it’s over.” When the Baptist minister falls down the stairs, he frantically looks around and thinks, “Which one of the deacons pushed me?”

What we think can lead to how we feel and act.

One key to joyous living is to focus on the positives.  That’s why Paul encouraged the church in Philippi to think about whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, anything that is excellent or praiseworthy.  As we prepare for our church’s anniversary, that’s what we’ve been trying to do, as we look back on our history and especially as we reflect on our present.  In our video interviews, Eloise Tucker, a 90-year-old, mentioned how praiseworthy it is to have college students in our midst.  Nancy Vick and Doris Weaver identified our prayer ministry as true and right about our church.  Several brought up how lovely and excellent our Christmas Eve worship services are.  And John Slade commented on how admirably diverse and talented this church is.  While we have to be careful about prideful self-congratulation, it is appropriate to recognize the positive things that are happening instead of focusing on the negatives regarding whatever we are anxious about.

Whenever we are not able to manage our own anxiety, it robs us of joy and peace.  Anxiety is a manifestation of our insecurities, a product of believing the negative scripts that play in our minds, a result of our wanting to control things over which we have no power.  The best way to manage our anxiety is to turn it over to God.  That’s why Paul exhorts, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  Whenever you’re anxious, pray: “God, I have anxiety over this.  Help me to remember that I’m secure in your love.  Replace my negative scripts so that I can hear your positive words, “You are my beloved child, with whom I’m well pleased.”  Thank you for being in control of this situation so that I don’t have to.”

Pause and breathe in deeply the presence of the Holy Spirit.  When I’ve done that, I’ve experience the peace of God in a way that I don’t fully understand.  But in some mysterious way, I feel closer to the heart of Christ, and I like to believe that I’m thinking more like the mind of Christ.  Therefore, I don’t take myself so seriously anymore, and I’m able to laugh at myself more often.

Can anyone be really happy and still be in their right mind?  Yes, I believe they can, if they have the mind of Christ.  The same Christ, who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant.  The same Christ who prayed “thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  The same Christ who led Paul to affirm, “whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.”  Joy and peace in the present begins with the presence of the living Christ within us that transforms us into the image of Christ.  To a disciple who was forever complaining about others the Master said, “If it is peace you want, seek to change yourself, not other people.  It is easier to protect your feet with slippers than to carpet the whole of the earth.”[1]

What is robbing you of joy and peace today?  As we come to the communion table this morning, may we receive the presence of Christ, so that we might be strengthened to put into practice all that we’ve learned from Christ and experience a joy and divine peace that transcends all understanding.  Amen.