This is a special musical presentation of A Carol for Advent by the Faith Lutheran Church Chancel Choir.

On this first Sunday in Advent as we usher in a new church year, we begin a time of waiting.  Waiting is something all of us experience.  In many ways, one could say our whole life is spent waiting. We wait for all kinds of things.  A recorded voice puts us on hold as we wait on the phone while our ears are pumped with thin, irritating music. Our order hasn't come yet and we are hungry.  The driver in front of you is going so slowly and you cannot pass because of oncoming traffic. Certain circumstances cause us to ask questions like:  Will the rain or snow ever stop?  When will the paint finally dry? Will anyone ever understand? Will I ever change? Our kids ask, “How long is it until we get there?” or “How many days until Christmas?”  Life is simply a series of hopes, times of waiting, and only partial fulfillments.  Quite honestly, the human condition does seem to be a state of living with constantly unsatisfied desire as we wait for something that is truly fulfilling.  Advent invites us to understand with new patience that condition, that very difficult state of being.  Advent means coming, and so we wait for God’s coming.  We wait as we prepare for God’s greatest event.  And, as we begin this time of waiting, the first words given to us are from the prophet Isaiah.

Isaiah’s world was a chaotic, unjust, broken, hurting, warring world.  Israel was a storm-tossed nation that was threatened by the powerful Assyrians to the north and east and menaced by the Egyptians to the south and west.  The king and his advisors were occupied with what they needed to do to protect themselves.  Events were out of control and fear was running rampant.  The people were waiting for God to reveal a word concerning their situation.  And, into that turmoil and storm-tossed world a voice stood out, the voice of Isaiah.  Through the prophet Isaiah, God did speak, does speak, and continues to speak.  The prophet Isaiah speaks of seeing a reality that is deeper than the reality the people were living.  He proclaims God’s vision for the world, holding up a vision of God’s future, the One to whom the future belongs.  He proclaims:

“Look!  Focus your eyes upon the mountain of the house of the Lord…For it shall rise up and be established as the highest of the mountains…And people of all races will come and say:  ‘Come, let’s climb God’s Mountain, go to the House of the God of Jacob.  He’ll show us the way he works so we can live the way we’re made.’  God’s message comes from Jerusalem.  God will settle things fairly between nations.  God will make things right between many peoples so that they will turn their swords into shovels, their spears into hoes.  No more will nation fight nations; they won’t play war anymore. Come, let’s live in the light of God.” (The Message)

Into that chaotic, warring world, Isaiah speaks a word of hope and a word of peace.  Centered on God’s dream for the world, Isaiah’s vision involves more than a geographical location:  it is a place of light and truth, of justice and judgment, where God’s supreme power and authority are honored and enacted.  It is a vision place, a place of no more war.  Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggemann, has compared these words from Isaiah to the “I have a dream” speech from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Like Dr. King, Isaiah provided words of hope and peace as the people waited for that future God promised, a future that was very different from what was visible to them at the present moment. 

We are living in a chaotic, unjust, broken, hurting, warring world.  World leaders and their advisors are occupied with what they need to do to protect themselves. We have again experienced more gun violence and multiple mass shootings. Fear is running rampant in many places within our culture.  And, into this turmoil and storm-tossed world a voice stands out, the voice of Isaiah.  As we begin a new church year by intentionally waiting, Isaiah speaks and promises us a time when God’s ways will fully shape how all of us live.  Every single person – “all nations….all peoples” will be streaming toward the bright light of peace, and there is enough, for all.  It may not look like that right now, but Advent is about taking the long view of things and seeing where the arc of justice bends as we look to the future.  And, as we wait for that time of God’s fulfillment, God invites us not just to imagine and dream but to make God’s dream a priority in our everyday lives by living into that dream.  As people of faith, we live holding up a vision of God’s future for this world.  God’s vision for the world is not yet fulfilled but, if we believe that God has brought justice to the world, we live that justice and share in the work of making the world more just. We have been instructed in the Lord’s ways; now is the time to walk in them and take the Word of the Lord forth into the world – caring for the poor, feeding the hungry, working for peace, unity, and enduring justice for all people, especially those most in need of hope.  That is the work of the church. 

Many of you probably remember the story of Ruby Bridges, the little six-year-old who was one of the first African American children to integrate the New Orleans public schools. If you remember her story, every morning the federal marshals would escort Ruby through the lines of angry parents hurling insults, racial slurs, and violent words.  Then the same thing happened every afternoon when school got out.  This went on for weeks and then months, until finally virtually every white family had withdrawn their children from the school.  So, Ruby went to school all by herself for the better part of the semester. The situation caught the attention of Harvard child psychologist, Robert Coles.  Coles decided to go to New Orleans where he interviewed and spent time with Ruby and her parents. He interviewed her teacher, asked how she thought Ruby could tolerate such continual adversity and abuse.   Just listen to the verbatim from that teacher.  She said:

I was standing in the classroom looking out the window. I saw Ruby coming down the street with the federal marshals on both sides of her. The crowd was there shouting as usual. A woman spat at Ruby but missed. Ruby smiled at her. A man shook his fist at her. Ruby smiled. And then she walked up the steps, and she stopped and turned around and smiled one more time. You know what she told one of those marshals? She told him she prays for those people, the ones in that mob. She prays for them every night before going to sleep.

The interview prompted Coles to speak directly to Ruby about her prayers. "Yes," Ruby said, "I do pray for them." Coles asked, "Why? Why would you pray for people who are so mean to you and say such bad things about you?"  Ruby answered, "Because Mama said I should." Coles pressed on with questions. Ruby said, "I go to church. I go to church every Sunday, and we're told to pray for people, even bad people. Mama says it's true. My minister says the same thing. 'We don't have to worry,' he says. He came to our house, and he say, 'God is watching over us.'  He say, 'If I forgive the people and smile at them and pray for them, God will keep a good eye on everything and he'll protect us.'" Coles asked if she thought the minister was on the right track. "Oh, yes," Ruby said. And then in a way of explanation, "I'm sure God knows what is happening. God's got a lot to worry about, but there's bad trouble here. God can't help but notice. He may not do anything right now, but there will come a day, like they say in church, there will come a day. You can count on it. That's what they say in church."

Yes, there will come a day.  You can count on it.  That’s what the church says.  Ruby Bridges lived that as a child.  And, if Isaiah and Dr. King and Ruby Bridges could dream of peace and lift up that vision for us, we too can dream the dream of peace and re-arrange our individual lives and the life of our communities, large and small, to be peace-making communities of generosity, justice, and joy.  We can work to develop communities where people listen to each other, communities of self-examination, of acceptance, of welcome and hospitality, of change – even if that change is not easy or fast. 

Advent is about dreams and visions, the dream of God for this world, and how God’s dream comes true in flesh and blood, in the person of Jesus, and in and through the Church.  As we continue to wait for God’s coming in fullness, the promise of Advent is that what is coming is an unimaginable invasion, an invasion of holiness, an invasion of God in this world.  So, stay awake, and be alert, and wait. God is on the way.  And, as we wait, we do so by living God’s dream for this world in this present moment.  Come!  It is time to live in the light of God!

Over the past few months, I have been thinking a great deal about leadership and the personal characteristics we look for and value in good leaders.  Leadership is something many of us think about as we look to the future. In fact, as I along with Council members are presently looking for leaders who will be willing to serve within the life of the faith community over the next few years, I realize how important it is for us to understand what leadership means in the life of the church.  So, it very interesting that as we come to this last Sunday of the church year, that Sunday when we proclaim the reign of Christ as all in all, we receive scripture readings that force us to really grapple with what meaningful leadership looks like.  On this day we are essentially confronted with the question, “What does it mean for us to name Christ as our leader?  What can it mean for us to name Christ as our King?”

It is truly difficult for most Americans to understand living under royal rule.  After all, our identity as a nation was borne out of the experience of breaking away from royal rule and kingship.  When we think of a king, we tend to think of a ruler with authoritarian power.  When we think of kings and leaders with power, we think of those who oversee the work and bureaucracy of a nation. And we hope for a leader who is honest, has integrity, grants citizens a measure of security and affirms the values of the majority of the people.  We look to leaders who promise a better tomorrow for all people.  We tend to think of kings and rulers as people who hold positions of honor, people who are looked up to.  When we picture a king, we think of looking up to one who has power, to one who has been exalted. 

So on this last day of the church year, as we think about leadership, we look to Christ as our leader and ask what it means for us to name Christ as our king and Lord. Theologian, Robert Capon, in Hunting the Divine Fox, presents an interesting assessment of what American popular religion perceives Christ to be like, and I have to say it doesn't look much like Jesus.  He writes:

. . . almost nobody resists the temptation to jazz up the humanity of Christ. The true paradigm of the ordinary American view of Jesus is Superman: "Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. It's Superman! Strange visitor from another planet, who came to earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American Way." If that isn't popular christology, I'll eat my hat. Jesus -- gentle, meek and mild, but with secret, souped-up, more-than‑human insides -- bumbles around for thirty-three years, nearly gets himself done in for good by the Kryptonite Kross, but at the last minute, struggles into the phone booth of the Empty Tomb, changes into his Easter suit and, with a single bound, leaps back up to the planet Heaven. It's got it all -- including, just so you shouldn't miss the lesson, kiddies: He never once touches Lois Lane.

You think that's funny? Don't laugh. The human race is, was and probably always will be deeply unwilling to accept a human messiah. We don't want to be saved in our humanity; we want to be fished out of it. We crucified Jesus, not because he was God, but because he blasphemed: He claimed to be God and then failed to come up to our standards for assessing the claim. It's not that we weren't looking for the Messiah; it's just that he wasn't what we were looking for. Our kind of Messiah [our kind of king] would come down from a cross. He would carry a folding phone booth in his back pocket. He wouldn't do a stupid thing like rising from the dead. He would do a smart thing like never dying.

Well, today we are given a picture of Christ the King, this one we call “Lord.”  And, in the picture we are given, this King is not revealed to us by looking up, but by looking down.  The royal face God reveals to us through the person of Jesus does not aspire to the heights of glory, power, wealth or fame.  No, to see the kingship revealed in Jesus the Christ, we must look down to the lowly life Jesus chose to walk.

So, what can it mean for us to name Christ as our King?  On this day, the writer of Luke’s gospel gives us an answer as he completely shatters our perceptions of what a king or ruler should look like. Our gospel reading is one in which Jesus, our King, is being derided, mocked and taunted.  Luke gives us the picture of one who has been falsely charged with fomenting rebellion against Rome.  He gives us a picture of Jesus on the cross, insulted, mocked and killed.  Today, we see Jesus, our King, as one who hangs there dying.   And what is revealed in this passage is miserable, deeply moving and shocking.  Quite frankly, we would prefer to hide our face rather than watch someone who is truly honorable be tortured, because even our compassion is not able to help this one who hangs there, this one we call “Lord.” 

The last moments of Jesus’ life all seem to be in stark contrast to what is valued as great in our world, to what we think kingship and leadership look like.  Jesus did not and does not come in power.  In fact, he refuses to come in power but instead appears in wretched vulnerability, humility, and love.  And, in doing so, he breaks a law, the law of death.  He breaks this law by ushering in God’s law of love.  You see, Jesus does not come vowing retribution even on those who crucify him.  Instead, he comes as one who is vulnerable and offers forgiveness and suffering love.  This Jesus does not come down off the cross to prove that he is a king with power.  Instead, he remains on that instrument of torture, humiliated, and representing all who suffer unjustly. 

This King we see hanging on a cross rules by pouring out redemption, forgiveness, and suffering love upon the entire world.  As Jesus hangs on a cross, we see a King who does not lord his greatness over all others, but instead forgives enemies and offers redemption to criminals.  And, in Jesus’ crucifixion and death, we discover that this leader, this King, is one who is numbered with the criminals.  This leader is counted as one of the transgressors.  This innocent One does not hang out with those in power but with the sinners, with the criminals, with the weak and the vulnerable, living and dying in solidarity with all those the powerful despise.  And, as this King is ruling from a cross, he calls us to follow his example by serving, forgiving, and loving all those in our lives, loving all those we consider “other.” 

So, what does it mean for us to name Christ as our King?  Well, for any who call Jesus “Lord,” it means we are called to join God’s “insistent, consistent, and persistent solidarity with the weak, the oppressed, and the forgotten of this world.  In short, the church of Jesus Christ reveals itself as faithful to its Lord only in so far as it stands with those who are most vulnerable.” (David Lose)  Whatever our desire for strength and security happens to be, the leader to whom we look is the one who leaves behind all strength and power and status, emptying himself and taking the form of a servant (Phil 2:7) in order to redeem those who are weak, vulnerable and lost.  And, guess what?  That includes us!   This one whom we call “Lord” is the one who redeems us today, forgives us always, showers and bathes us in suffering love, and sets us free to stand with those in need around us as we see in them the very presence of the God who always takes the side of the vulnerable.  That is what good leadership, true servant leadership, looks like.

This is a special musical presentation of Sing to the Lord by the Faith Lutheran Church Chancel Choir.

Today, Tammy Heilman gets what she purchased at our Raise the Roof Silent Auction.  Today, she, and all of you, get a five-minute sermon!!  So, because I only have five minutes, I am going to get right to the point.  Today’s gospel was not written to predict the end of time! It is an apocalyptic reading and it was written to help people stay faithful and live with a sense of courage, hope, and comfort when they were facing times of great anguish. These gospel words were written in the late 80s for early Gentile Christian communities facing persecution and times of great suffering.

In this reading, Jesus seems to be communicating a message that says suffering becomes an opportunity for testimony, and God will supply the words that need to be said. He says suffering provides an opportunity for those who have been changed to really tell of their hope in the depth of their struggle.  Such hope bears witness to the God who is deeply present in the depth of suffering and pain.

So, today I share a story, just one example of such testimony and reliance on hope and God’s presence in the depth of great suffering. This story tells of the witness of African American musician, Thomas Dorsey, who was the composer of the well-loved hymn, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” Through this hymn that has become a gift to the world, Dorsey shares remarkable testimony that was born out of loss, grief, and chaos.  Born in Georgia in 1899, Dorsey was the son of a Baptist minister and he became a prolific African American songwriter and gospel and blues musician.  As an adult, he moved to Chicago where he found work as a piano player in churches, theaters, and clubs.  He struggled to support his family by balancing his work between playing in clubs and churches.  But, he ultimately devoted his work exclusively to the church.

In August of 1932, Dorsey left his pregnant wife in Chicago and traveled to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting in St. Louis.  After the first night of the revival, Dorsey received a telegram that simply said, “Your wife just died.”  Dorsey raced home and learned that his wife had given birth to their son before dying in childbirth.  The next day his son died as well.  Dorsey buried his wife and son in the same casket and withdrew in sorrow and agony from his family and friends.  He refused to compose or play any music for quite some time.

While still in the depth of despair, Dorsey said that one day as he sat in front of a piano, a feeling of peace washed through him.  The following words just came to Dorsey as gift as he sat there:

Precious Lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, let me stand;

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;

Through the storm, through the night,

Lead me on to the light;

Take my hand, precious Lord,

Lead me home.

In the depth of his suffering, Dorsey’s words were honest testimony about his experience, yet words that communicated a trust and hope in the One who walks with us, even through the most difficult and chaotic times of life.  These words came to him as gift and they became a testimony and gift to the world. 

As we presently face various forms of natural disaster, climate change, political uncertainty, personal struggles, and a deeply troubled and warring world, we can remember and trust that, no, these things do not necessarily mean the world is coming to an end anytime soon.  What we can trust is this:  Jesus tells us God is always with us and gives us the strength to endure and remain faithful.  We can remember that the words we speak in times of trial and challenge will come to us as gift.  Christ possesses a wisdom our troubled world and Christ’s troubling opponents cannot calculate or even begin to comprehend.  Christ will speak the Word of God’s kingdom through Christ’s church, of which we are a part.  And, that Word is the creative and redeeming Word that created all things in the beginning and continues to create in its speaking as we allow God to work through us, the Body of Christ in this place.