Advent 1 (A)
November 27, 2022
Matthew 24:36-44
INTRODUCTION
Always on this first Sunday of Advent and the new church year, we get a lot of, “Pay attention, and look at this new thing that God is doing! Don’t miss it!” We’ll see that theme very strongly in both Paul’s letter to the Romans and in the Gospel reading. In Isaiah, we get a glimpse of what that new thing might mean for our broken world – it could be a world in which all people will gather on God’s holy mountain, and there will be no more weapons or war. This comes as good news to a nation that is, in the 8th century BCE, being pummeled by the army of the Assyrian Empire; Isaiah speaks these words of hope and new life into a context of suffering, anxiety, and imminent imperial conquest.
The Psalm also reflects on this world of peace. And in all four readings, we’ll see bits of the persistent Advent themes we think about every year: we wait, we watch, we hope, even as we anticipate the light of God breaking into the darkness of our lives.
This year, our Advent theme is “Out of the Blue,” about the ways God shows up, sometimes where we least expect it, and pulls us into the future of hope and promise – even if it wasn’t a part of our original plan. So as you listen today, watch for those surprising moments in the texts, words or themes of the unexpected – and think about the ways God has shown up in your life in unexpected ways. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace form the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.
Several years ago now, when our kids were babies, we had an apparent break-in at our home. It was winter, and we had noticed as we were sitting in the living room that it felt very drafty. Sure enough we found a window open that leads into the back porch. The window frame was slightly bent, and upon further exploration, we also saw footsteps out in the snow leading to the porch door. We were surprised – nothing seemed amiss other than this, and we hadn’t noticed anything missing, but now we went to take a look. Michael had had a wad of cash in his dresser drawer from some recent Craigslist sales that was gone, as well as a jewelry box in that same drawer that had some cufflinks, and also a single laptop we seldom used was missing – though not my MacBook or any of my far more valuable jewelry. We had had a young man who we knew and was looking to earn some money painting our bedroom that week. He would have had easy access to the house and our bedroom – had he stolen these things while on the job, and then staged a break-in as a cover? He swore his innocence. The police were no help. To this day, we don’t know what happened, or when the theft even occurred – though we are pretty sure it was someone we know. But whether it was an unknown intruder, or this young man, or someone else who had access to our home, the fact remains: we felt violated. Both our space and our trust had been invaded and taken.
This incident came to mind this week as I read our Gospel lesson. “Keep awake therefore,” Jesus advises, “for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into.” It is such an unsettling image, isn’t it – thinking of God breaking into our homes, our safe havens that hold our memories, our photos, our cherished possessions, and creeping about in stocking feet without us even knowing. It’s creepy, but it’s also, like my story, violating. Right? Our homes are our safe place, where there are plenty of things, stories, and behaviors we might like to keep hidden from the outside world. But without warning to first clean up our act, God comes right on in and sees the sink full of dishes, the stack of unopened mail, the stains on the carpet. He sees the empty wine bottles, and the candy wrappers. He sees the piles of clutter, things you never should have bought in the first place, and the embarrassing prescription drugs you take. He sees it all, and just when your defenses are down. He creepily comes like a thief in the night, and sees all those things you would rather have kept hidden – from God, and from the world.
Yup, it is definitely an unsettling image for God. I don’t like it nearly so much as say, the mother hen, who promises to gather and protect her chicks. Because protection – now that is something we very much like, isn’t it? It’s why we spend so much energy seeking it out. Certainly in physical ways, like our homes and our super safe cars, but also emotionally and spiritually. We don’t let people too far into our hearts, lest we get hurt. We don’t let down our guard, lest we get judged. We don’t let go of the illusion that we can do it ourselves, lest we dare trust another person or even God, and are disappointed once again.
And yet, if the season of Advent tells us anything, it is that God doesn’t want to be removed from our mess – the one in our homes nor the one in our hearts. God wants to be in it with us, so much that God chooses to come to earth, even in the least expected way imaginable. And so, given that, is it any surprise that the Lord comes to us like a thief in the night? If God sent us a letter saying, “Hello, beloved child of mine, I have intentions to arrive at your home on Thursday at 3pm. I have some life-changing matters to discuss with you,” then what would be our response?
I can think of two possible responses. One is that I would be too darn busy. “Oo, Thursday at 3 isn’t great for me. I have a haircut scheduled then. Could we look at the following week? I think I can squeeze you in there.” Squeezing God in, especially during this busy season, is all too often our reality, is it not?
The other possible response, assuming I can indeed squeeze it in, is I would for sure clean the house, at least shove the clutter in a closet and tidy the couch cushions. I’d make sure all my ducks were in a row. I’d make sure my hair was combed, teeth brushed, clean dress on. I would definitely not want God to see the mess that I am behind closed doors! And so, I would put my best face forward to prepare for God’s arrival!
This doesn’t sound so bad, right? We talk a lot about bringing our best to God – and we should do that! But if God only ever wanted to see us at our best, then why would God come to us at an unexpected hour, when we don’t have the notice we need to prepare, to wash our faces and clean the house? I think it is because while we do want to bring our best to God, we also need to be willing to let God see us at our not-best. Are we willing to let God see us exactly where and how we are when we are not trying to present to the world something that is polished and put-together?
Preacher and author Barbara Brown Taylor has a wonderful sermon on this text called “The Beloved Thief.” In it, she describes Jesus as a thief who sneaks into our homes at night, when we are least prepared, when our defenses are down, when he can truly come in and see us and be with us at our most vulnerable. She writes, “Like any other thief, this one is after your valuables, but unlike any other, this one knows what they really are: not your silver and your stereo but your heart, your soul, your mind. Those are the treasures this thief’s own heart is set on, at no small risk to his life.”
You see, if we, the homeowner, had known what time the thief was coming, we would not have let the house be broken into – and then that beloved thief, Jesus himself, would not have had access to our hearts, souls and minds. Jesus would have been kept out. We would have guarded those things, kept them hidden, kept them safe, and put forward only what we want the world and even God to see.
But that’s not all that God wants to see. God wants all of us, our true selves. That is what this Advent season of waiting and watching, and the joyous gift we celebrate at the end of it, is all about: It is about God wanting so badly to be let in, let into our truest, least protected, messiest, and most vulnerable selves, that God becomes one of us, becomes vulnerable and powerless like us. If we will not let down our guard enough to receive him, then he will still find a way – by coming as a thief in the night, without warning so that we can’t make sure the security alarm is set. We can’t keep him out. He will come to us. He will come at an unexpected hour, probably when we most need it. He is not an adversary or a villain, but he will come to steal our hearts, souls and minds, to make them his.
So prepare yours hearts, dear friends, for his unexpected entry. Prepare them by leaving the door unlocked, so that the beloved thief may enter freely. For by entering our waiting hearts, he is coming to set us free.
Let us pray… Unexpected God, our hearts and our homes are messy as all get out. We would rather keep our mess protected, even from you. Unlock the doors that would try to keep you out – and enter in, bringing your love, your peace, your grace, and the hope of your promise. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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