Readings: Isaiah 12:2-6 Amos 6:1-8 2 Corinthians 8:1-15

Isaiah

Surely God is my salvation;
I will trust and not be afraid.
The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song;
he has become my salvation.”
With joy you will draw water
from the wells of salvation.

In that day you will say:

“Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name;
make known among the nations what he has done,
and proclaim that his name is exalted.
Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things;
let this be known to all the world.
Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion,
for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.”
This advent, let us use our voice to sing of His glory as we await the day of God’s peace on earth.

The Song of Isaiah, artist unknown

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Offered by Heidi Marcotte, congregational leader, listener, child of God.

Readings: Malachi 3:1-4 or Baruch 5:1-9, Philippians 1:3-11, Luke 3:1-6

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,
“The voice of the one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’” Luke 3:1-6

Main street in Wareham village looks good. New sidewalks and lights, gardens and trees make it a welcoming place – a federally funded facelift that encourages tourists and residents alike to spend time here. Riverside Cafe serves a tasty breakfast at a low price, Twigs & Tides offers the wares of local artists, Minerva’s has great pizza, and the post office staff is friendly and efficient. Bait and tackle, dog grooming, legal advice, haircuts, chiropractic adjustment, and gas for the car are all here in this half mile space.

The odd thing about Main Street: the businesses closest to the Agawam river face away from the water. Changing tides and graceful wildlife are blocked from view by walls, storage rooms, and dumpsters. Riverside Cafe’s customers see the insurance office, but not the river. The exception is Cafe Soleil; when it was Merchant’s Way Cafe years back, the owners built the dining room on the water side.

The Agawam has its own life, not limited to the needs and preferences of the people who currently live near it. It flows with fresh water and salty tides, swaddles fish and oysters and the diving birds that eat them; it hosts fisher cats and coyotes, and destroys homes and streets when it floods. I wonder if these buildings turn away from the river to avoid facing this fearfully and wonderfully made wilderness right in the middle of Wareham – and if they are aware that the road they crouch around leads to the wilderness at their backs.

The word of God didn’t come to Main street, with its town leaders and clergy. It didn’t come to those who stick to the paved streets and never give the wilderness in their sight (much less the wilderness beyond them) a second glance. It came to the radical son of a priest who left the safety of sidewalks and streetlights for the danger and beauty of a wilderness unmarked and unexplored by the tame and fearful. John brought this word of God to the Jordan, coming to the edge of civilization to preach and baptize. He traded the wilderness outside, made holy by the voice of God, for the wilderness of desperate human hearts and spirits. Those who heard God’s word repented, turning around to face the unknown and plunge into the river at its edge, preparing and waiting for the Lord.

It’s not easy to turn around and face the wilderness, and it offers little to gain in way of fame or fortune. I hope I have the courage and good sense to turn anyway: it’s the only way I’ll see the salvation of God in my broken, small, holy life.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Luke 1:68-79, Malachi 3:13-18, Philippians 1:18b-26

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us,

to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Luke 1:78-79

In my teens, I lived in a house on a pond, surrounded by trees, five miles away from the town’s small center. There were few streetlights on my road, and none within eyesight of my house. Late one summer night, I set out on foot for home from my friend’s house. Turning a corner, I lost sight of her porch light. There was no moon or other light. I was walking in a darkness so deep that even my body disappeared into it. Since it was only a short distance, I decided to walk it blind. I could tell if I went off the pavement by the change in sound and feel – the sandy roadside felt soft under my shoes and made a raspy sound when I wandered into it. Frogs croaked, crickets fiddled, and the sound of wings seemed everywhere in the trees. With eyes closed, I made my way down the road. I kept them closed until I stepped on my own driveway. When I opened them, the light by the door was a dazzling welcome home.

I’ve wondered many times why I didn’t keep my eyes open that night. I’d have seen the light many steps before reaching my driveway. I think I was trying to pretend that the darkness wasn’t really out there, that the simple act of closing my eyes could reduce it to something within my power to change. In the end, I held onto the dark longer than it held onto me.

Zechariah’s son John knew about darkness, and he didn’t close his eyes. When the light appeared, he welcomed it with eyes and heart open. Perhaps that’s why he spent his life telling anyone who would listen, “Open your eyes!”

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Luke 1:68-79, Malachi 3:5-12, Philippians 1:12-18a

“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,

because he has come to his people and redeemed them.

He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David

(as he said through his holy prophets long ago)

salvation from our enemies and from the had of all who hate us –

to show mercy to our ancestors

and to remember his holy covenant,

the oath he swore to our father Abraham:

to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,

and to enable us to serve him without fear

in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.

And you, my child, will be called to be a prophet of the Most High:

for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,

to give his people the knowledge of salvation

through the forgiveness of their sins,

because of the tender mercy of our God,

by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven

to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the path of peace.” Luke 1:68-79, NIV

My four children are the brightest, best behaved, hardest working, most wonderful children ever born.  And I’m sure that if you were to meet them you’d agree. Well, maybe you wouldn’t, especially if you have children yourself. If you do, I’m sure you would nominate them for top honors, right? After all, fathers are supposed to feel this way about their children. Imagine a normal father not thinking that his son was the greatest, most important child ever born. I don’t think there’s ever been a dad that didn’t feel this way about his #1 son. Oops, maybe I’m wrong.  Zechariah may be the one exception. The is passage from Luke’s gospel is called “Zechariah’s Song”. In this rhapsody, Zechariah reflects on what God is going to do in the world through the soon-to-be-born Messiah (verses 68-75). Then he rejoices in the supportive role that his own son, known to us as John the Baptist, will have in preparing the way for Jesus (verses 76-79).  In other words, old Zechariah’s #1 son is going to play second fiddle to Mary’s little boy. Playing second fiddle isn’t something that many of us relish. By nature we crave attention and the limelight. We want our efforts and accomplishments to be noticed and rewarded. Humility and servanthood aren’t things that come naturally to us. Zechariah’s boy, John, would grow up to show us another way, though—the way of self-denial. He would be quick to recognize that God always deserves first place. Remember his famous admission that “[Jesus] must become greater; I must become less.” (John 3:30) Or, as the Apostle Paul, writing from his persecution jail cell, would say—

I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel.  As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.  And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.  (Philippians 1:12-14 NIV)

There’s nothing wrong with second fiddle. Especially when we realize that this is the role for which we were created: “…prophets of the Most High… prepare the way for the Lord… give his people the knowledge of salvation…”  We are Christ’s ambassadors; not representing our own interests, nor satisfying our own desires, but representing Christ and doing his will. To God be the Glory!

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Offered by David Shaw, Pastor, Emmanuel Church of the Nazarene, Wareham, MA, and child of God.

Readings: Psalm 90, Isaiah 1:24-31, Luke 11:29-32

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth,

or ever you had formed the earth and the world,

from everlasting to everlasting you are God. Psalm 90:1-2

The world didn’t begin at my birth, and it won’t end when I take my last breath. All generations find their home in God, not just the ones right before and right after mine. Wherever and whenever this human family lives, there and then is God.

God didn’t begin at the birth of my planet, and God will be present when the earth breathes its last. God was present at the birth of space/time. If this universe is unmade in some distant millennium, if all possible worlds come to an end, God will hold even that fast. All wherevers and whenevers dwell in God.

But this is the time for me to dwell in God and on this earth. Finding myself in God and finding my place in the world aren’t two separate adventures, just two perspectives on a single journey. I know it’s a sacred journey because God walked it from beginning to end, birth through death to resurrection.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.