Sunday, November 18, 2012

Sermon: My Lord, What a Morning! (Nov. 18, 2012)


Pentecost 25B
Mark 13:1-8

         My Lord, what a morning. My Lord, what a morning. Oh, my Lord, what a morning, when the stars begin to fall.
         Indeed, my Lord! What a morning! What a morning, when a “frankenstorm” devastates a city that never sleeps and its surrounding areas, leaving tens of thousands without power or water, and then another storm comes right on its tail. What a morning, when violence breaks out at the slightest provocation, leaving innocent people dead. What a morning, when we legally elect a president, and the next week is full of slander from both sides, threats of seceding from the union, and warnings that the man we elected is paving the way for the antichrist. What a morning when increasing numbers of people in the US list their religious affiliation as “none,” and the church can’t figure out how to turn that around. What a morning, when every 3.6 seconds, someone dies of hunger related causes. My Lord. What a morning!
         It’s hard not to think about these things when we hear these apocalyptic texts, these end times predictions that describe the hardship that is to come. Daniel seems to offer comfort, even as he terrifies. “This coming time is gonna be terrible,” he says. “But don’t worry. In the midst of it, God’s people will be delivered.” Uh, okay, Daniel, if you say so. Jesus is even worse, warning us of wars, famines, earthquakes, and strong buildings tumbling, adding that this is “but the beginning of the birth pangs,” with no promise, at least in this discourse, of anything good that might follow that. Excuse me, Jesus, was this supposed to offer us some hope?
         But sometimes, that’s how we feel, isn’t it? Sometimes it is actual famines, wars, and earthquakes that bring us distress, often without a glimpse of the hope that might follow. There are certainly enough of those in this world to go around – you can hear about them on the news every day. In our more day-to-day lives, these are more metaphoric. It is famines of the soul, when we find ourselves hungry for something missing in our lives – for companionship, for purpose, for meaning, for direction. It is our internal wars, when we are battling addiction, wrestling with difficult relationships, or discerning tough life decisions. It is earth-shaking developments, when we receive life-changing news, whether good or bad: a job lost, an illness diagnosed, a positive pregnancy test, a job promotion that causes you to pick up and move your family to a new city. It is Temples crumbling, our safety nets and sanctuaries no longer providing the comfort they once did: a divorce, a recognition of something in yourself that needs to change, a friend pointing out an unhealthy habit. To any of these, we might wake up and think, “My Lord, what a morning!”
         I implied a moment ago that Jesus’ words today in our Gospel don’t leave us with much hope. What if I told you that, to first century hearers, they did bring hope? Jesus tells them that the Temple will fall, “not one stone left upon another.” Devastating news at the time, I’m sure, but when the Temple did, in fact, fall, 40 years later, they were able to see that Jesus had anticipated that, that even this was in God’s hands. Shortly after Jesus’ death and resurrection, many did come and claim to be him, but his followers could say, “Yes, we knew about this. God knew about this. We will not be led astray.” And that knowledge that we remain in God’s hands, and in God’s awareness, did bring hope to those first century Christians.
         Do something with me for a second. I’m going to read once again these two apocalyptic texts, the one from Daniel and the one from Mark. As you listen, listen for the words or phrases that speak especially to your heart right now. Hold on to those words or phrases.
At that time Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. 2Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. 3Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. …..

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, "Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!" 2Then Jesus asked him, "Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down."
3When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, 4Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished? 5Then Jesus began to say to them, "Beware that no one leads you astray. 6Many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and they will lead many astray. 7When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. 8For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs. …

         What are some of those words and phrases that stuck with you? …

         My Lord, what a morning. Not too long ago, as many of you know, I had a major, “Lord, what a morning” experience. Actually, several in a row! Newly engaged and a year into a promising ministry, I got slapped with a cancer diagnosis. Yes, the statistics showed that for someone with my medical history, this was a possibility, and while that helped a little, it didn’t make the pain go away. It’s hard to see from that place what on earth God might have in mind. For my personal life, it was wars and famines and tumbling buildings, it was a potential end to dreams, it was a turning over of life plans.
One evening that was particularly hard, I was talking to my parents. I was lamenting that God seemed to have gifted me in so many ways, but now was putting this big road block in my way. “I have so much to offer!” I said. “Why should this happen right now?” In his pastor-dad way, my dad suggested, “So that you’ll have so much to offer.”
My diagnosis was “but the beginning of the birth pangs.” A beginning can seem like, can even be an end. But an end can also be a beginning. As the birth pangs begin, it isn’t always easy to remember that as a result of that pain, a new child will come into the world. Out of birth pangs comes a child. Out of a cancer diagnosis comes new perspective. Out of death on a cross comes a resurrection. That is our God. Ours is a God whose light shines so brightly that the darkness cannot overcome it. Ours is a God who wipes away tears. Ours is a God who delivers. …

The sermon isn’t complete. When have you thought, “My Lord, what a morning,” and seen God work in that? What word of hope do these texts speak to you?

[Some sort of closing/prayer that uses what people say, if anything. Something like:]

Lord God, we live through many nights in our lives, and awake to many surprising mornings. Grant us the courage and the hearts to see the undying hope that comes in your Son Jesus Christ, that we will have strength to see that in each end, there is also a beginning. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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