Sermon: How to have hope when the sky is falling (December 1, 2024)

Advent 1C: How to have hope when the sky is falling
December 1, 2024
Jeremiah 33:14-16
Luke 21:25-36

INTRODUCTION

If you were hoping to catch a glimpse of the babe in a manger today, on this first Sunday of Advent, I have bad news for you! Each year in Advent, we start not with the first coming, but with the second coming, and the scary signs that it may be upon us. We will see this in Luke, as Jesus warns his disciples to keep alert, to be on guard against all the things that would try to distract us from seeing God’s kingdom coming among us. Honestly, it is a helpful reminder, in a season full of busyness and distraction, to stay focused on what Christ actually came for: to give hope to a world in despair, and to draw our attention toward the God who saves.

And that is what we will see in our readings today. We’ll hear a bit from Jeremiah, normally known for his doom and gloom, but today he takes a break from that, in the part of the book known as the Book of Consolation. Even in the midst of the devastation of Jerusalem by Babylon, and Israel’s exile, Jeremiah promises here that this worst possible scenario does not last forever. Salvation and safety are coming, justice and righteousness are coming. 

Both the Psalm and Thessalonians are full of hope and joy in a God who keeps promises. 

And in Luke, Jesus does not shy away from naming the challenges ahead, but also gives some helpful guidance on staying focused on the God who saves. The original audiences of these texts were all enduring difficult times, and we know a thing or two about that, too. So as you listen, hear these words of hope and consolation both as being honest about reality, and drawing us ever toward seeing how God is breaking into our difficult realities all the time. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.

How do you respond when disaster strikes? 

Do you start breathing fast, heart racing? Do you cry? Do you get very calm and calculating, in order to get through the crisis at hand, and deal with the emotions later? Do you sink into a depression, unable to process all the emotion? 

Or maybe the better question is, what do you need when disaster strikes? We talked about this last week in our confirmation class. We had a guest speaker, who is a chaplain at Strong Hospital. He talked about how he cares for patients, families and staff when they are dealing with perhaps the worst thing that has ever happened to them. Mostly, he said, people don’t need platitudes or promises we can’t keep about how “everything will be okay.” What they do need is to know they aren’t alone, and to know that their feelings matter. The chaplain’s role is to give suffering people a space to name their feelings, and then to hold those feelings with them.

There is a sense of relief that comes from just naming a thing what it is, without rushing away from it. It is a real gift to have someone in our lives who can cry with us, who can name the pain and not be so afraid of it that they need to move us past it just as quickly as possible.

That is what we get, this first Sunday in Advent. Our Gospel reading does not shy away from naming the difficulty of this life, and the struggles that may very well lie ahead. It may seem a strange way to start this season, when the world around us has a literal sheen on it, all dressed up with holiday cheer, sparkling lights, and cheerful music. Is that why we love this holiday season so much? Because it masks so well all the things that are wrong, or at least takes our mind away from them for a while? Well, there is a certain an appeal to that, but we don’t get off so easy in the Church. No, we start the season instead by staring those things straight in the face: “Things are rough, and they are going to get rougher.” And the implied question, “So, what are you going to do about it?” What do you do, what do you need, when disaster strikes?

If naming the struggle is the challenge of Advent, the gift of Advent is its focus on hope, and living in the hope of what is to come. No matter how bad it looks, don't give up the faith. Hang in there, because God is in control. Fear happens; this is inevitable. Life is full of the unknown, the frustrating, the scary, the devastating, and things can turn for the worse in an instant. But in that, we have a hope we can cling to, an interruption that is louder and more powerful than anything life can serve us, and that is the hope that comes along with that babe in a manger. This is the salvation that Jeremiah promises in our first lesson today. It is the salvation we experience right now. And it is the salvation for which we still wait, as we await Christ’s second coming. That is why we call Jesus the one who is and who was and who is to come. He is God-with-us, every step of the way.

That’s all well and good, but how, with so many competing forces, do we keep our eyes and hearts focused on the possibility of that hopeful interruption? Jesus gives us three ideas. First, he says, “don’t let your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of life.” That can be a pretty tall order, because there are so very many worries of life! At our evening prayer service last week, we talked about finding ways to give thanks in everything, even if we don’t give thanks for everything. When we can do this, our hearts can be opened to seeing God working in those things. In all things, even the most annoying or frustrating, there is the possibility for a gift, for a glimpse of God’s grace. As for dissipation and drunkenness… well, think of these behaviors not only literally, but as representative of all the distractions of life in general, and this season in particular. One of my personal goals this Advent is to start each day with a moment of mindfulness, some quiet time for me to focus and not feel rushed, and be fully present in my body without getting carried away by my thoughts. What’s a practice that would help you to do that this season?

The next thing Jesus urges us to do is to “be alert at all times.” Even as we strive to find some time to ourselves for peace and focus, we never stop paying attention. Remember that Christ is the one who is and who was and who is to come – that means that Christ is already among us! He points us today toward a fig tree, how we see the leaves start to sprout and we know summer is near. So we, too, can see glimpses of Christ’s kingdom in such ordinary things – a kind smile from a stranger, a parent comforting their child, even in things that might normally have annoyed us! What if we shift our perspective, so that instead of looking for things that are wrong, we look for ways Christ is showing up? When we look for something, after all, we tend to find it. So, let’s look for glimpses of God’s kingdom, in all things! 

And finally, Jesus tells us to pray. Pray for strength, for endurance, for patience as we wait for salvation. Really, this should be the first thing – for how can we do anything without the power of prayer to fuel us? Maybe you can pray during that time you’ve set apart for yourself. Maybe in your car between errands, or at red lights. Maybe you could pray through setting up your nativity set, or whatever other Advent and Christmas themed décor you have in your house. Find God in these ordinary things, too, and let them inspire you to prayer.

We’re still several weeks away from the Peace that is born in a stable, that angels will sing and that will bring shepherds and kings alike to their knees. And while we wait – not only for our celebration of the first coming, but also for the second coming – we will encounter many things that are decidedly not peaceful. During this time, this Advent season, we are given a great gift: an interruption that at once acknowledges our fears, and promises that salvation is coming, an interruption that claims that hope is possible, and can be found even in the most ordinary of moments. Let us cling to this hope, this season, and every season, as we await the coming of our Lord.

Let us pray… Lord of Hope, you are the one who is and who was and who is to come. Help us to notice the blessings you bring, to be alert and ready for your presence among us, to pray for strength as we wait, and to live in the hope that is our Lord Jesus Christ. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.