Sermon: Tell me about the light (Dec. 14, 2014)

Advent 3B

December 14, 2014

John 1:6-8, 19-28

            My parents like to tell a story from my childhood that reflects how my call to be a pastor was a long time in the making. It happened at Christmastime when I was probably about 6 years old. I had a new friend who had come over to my house to play, and we were looking at the beautiful, wooden, hand-painted Advent wreath that dons my parents’ dining room table, which has all the characters of the Christmas story, marching their way around the wreath toward the manger. We discussed, as 6-

year-olds might, all the different characters, and their roles in the story. My friend looked thoughtful, then asked, “Where’s God?” I pointed and said, “He’s right there on the hay.”

            Now, at 6 years old I certainly didn’t understand such theological concepts as the incarnation or the two natures of Christ, but it turns out my 6-year-old explanation revealed something John the Baptist and I have in common: John, too, points to Christ, saying, “There is your God. There is your Christ, right there among you.” We think of John as the Baptizer, but in John’s Gospel, John the Baptist’s role is not primarily to baptize, but rather to witness, or testify: “He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.”

            I don’t know about you, but I think that this Advent, the world could really use some more people testifying to the light. This Advent has felt to me especially dark – difficult losses among people dear to me has caused that darkness on a personal level, but also the national scene in which cries of brutality and racism and torture and budget cuts on programs helping those in the most need have blanketed the news. I have found it difficult to go about my merry Christmas way when I imagine how people of color feel watching the news these days, or the experience of those starting or joining riots because they feel so desperately helpless and unheard by the powers that be that they feel that rioting is the only way they can get their voice heard, or those who once were filled with hope but are now filled with a great big empty hole in their lives. Where is the light in the lives of these people and so many more who live in darkness, and who will testify to that light?

            Could it be you? Could you be the one God is calling to testify to the light, just as John did 2000 years ago? After all, we were all called to this vocation in our baptism, when we were handed a

lighted candle and told, “Let your light shine before others,” and we all have that light that is Christ inside us. Why shouldn’t we be the ones to testify to it? What would that testimony look like in today’s world, with the particular darkness we are facing now?

            I know what you’re thinking: “I don’t want to because I don’t want to offend people.” Or, “I never find myself with the opportunity to do that.” Or maybe, “I can’t because I don’t know how.” Well here’s what I have to say about that: First, you won’t offend people if you first listen, truly listen to their story without judgment. Sometimes listening with authenticity is the best way to testify to the light, the most compassionate and Christ-like thing you can do. But sometimes, like in the case of injustice, something needs to be said. In that case, being honest about own story of how the light has been present in your life need not offend – it is your story, not a story you are trying to foist upon someone else, so tell it that way. As far as opportunities to testify go, every day is an opportunity to testify to the light because every day people are longing to hear a word of hope spoken into their darkness, or whatever wilderness they happen to find themselves in.

Then there’s the question of not knowing how to testify to the light. Okay, so let’s address that: how do we do it? Let’s look at how John the Baptist does it: notice that his statement of faith isn’t all that eloquent; he says simply, “I’m just a voice crying out in the wilderness.” We talked

about that last week – we all have had wilderness experiences, and sometimes it is in those times that we experience God the most profoundly. At least it is the place where we most need and crave God. John knows about the wilderness, and he knows others do, too. And so John calls out from that shared, human, wilderness experience, “I know it is dark out here, and hopeless, but guess what? God is coming! In fact, he is already among you.” His testimony is as simple as that. He identifies with those around him, and then tells his own experience.

            Now, I know you all have experiences of God, or you have experiences in which you sought God, or experiences in which you craved God. I find it hard to believe that you would come here week after week if you had no experience, nor any interest in experiencing God. But I also know that many of you haven’t talked too much about that, at least not with people outside of the church. How do I know this? You remember back in September we took the Congregational Vitality Assessment? One of the areas that you scored yourselves the lowest was in the category, “This congregation equips members to share their faith with others.” Well! You better believe I’m not going to see that and let is slide! This church should be equipping you to share your faith – to testify and to witness – to others, because the world needs that voice of one crying out in the wilderness to an aching world. You should be able to articulate why your faith matters to you, where you find light when the world is dark, and to be able to articulate that to others who too often find themselves in the wilderness, with nowhere to find hope.

            And so today we will take a step toward equipping you to testify to the light. In your bulletin you will find a small insert. On one side it says, “Why does your faith matter to you?” Perhaps you have never really thought about this question. Why do you keep coming back to church? Why do you

John the Baptist from Isenheim Altarpiece

hope your kids and grandkids stay with the church and keep involved into their adulthood? What does this faith, or your relationship with Jesus, provide for you? Why does it matter?  

Or, if you’d prefer something more seasonal, on the other side you will find another question: “Why do you celebrate Christmas?” I’m not looking for, “Because I like Frosty the Snowman,” or, “Christmas lights are so pretty.” I mean, what difference does this holiday, this holy-day, make to you and your relationship with God? In your mind, why come to church that night, and what is there to celebrate, and why does that make a difference to you?

            Write your testimony on that little slip of paper, and consider it a good answer if anyone ever asks you, “Why do you go to church?” If you would be willing to share your answers with me, put them in the offering plate; I’d love to share some of your testimony (anonymously!) in our next newsletter, to give inspiration to others in the new year. Or if you’d rather, you can think about it and email me or call me with a response later.

            And because I won’t ever ask you to do something I wouldn’t do, I’ll go first: Why does my faith matter to me? In my life, I have faced my share of difficult moments, both mundane and severe. I have been mad at God, and delighted by God. I have been devout and I have been apathetic. But at the end of each day, I find my hope in the fact that God loves me – and everyone, no matter their skin color, nationality, gender, or sexual orientation – so much that he decided to dwell among us and take on our lot, for better or worse. I find hope in the fact that I am forgiven each and every day for my many mistakes, a gift that also encourages me to try harder next time. I find hope in the fact that God turned death into life on that first Easter morning, and continually does this in my life in little ways and in huge ways, showing me what new life can look like all the time. That is why I come to church; that is why I celebrate Christmas; that is why my faith matters to me.

            Okay, your turn. I’ll give you a few minutes, then close us in prayer. May the Holy Spirit provide you with the words to articulate what you know to be true…..

            Let us pray… God of hope and fulfillment, your servant John pointed toward Christ, testifying to the light that is Christ. Give us the courage to do the same, to be a voice crying out in the wilderness, to tell the world why our relationship with you matters so deeply. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.