Monday, December 10, 2018

What If - 2nd Sunday of Advent


9 December 2018 – 2nd Sunday of Advent

Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 3:1-6

The idea of a “rapture” is fascinating to me even if I don’t completely agree with the 18th-century concept.  Paul’s words to the Thessalonians seem to leave no ambiguity (“We who are alive … will be caught up in the clouds together [with the dead] to meet The Lord in the air”, 1 Thess 4:17), but Jesus’ words in Matthew’s Gospel seem to suggest something not quite consistent with “being spirited away” – as if taken by force (“The one on the housetop must not go down to take what is in the house; the one in the field must not turn back to get a coat”, 24:17, 18).  I’ve wondered if this idea is more like making our last choice – and that choice according to how we had previously ordered our lives.

Think about Lot’s wife who had been warned, along with her family, not to look back as they were fleeing.  And when Lot’s wife turned back as though she were longing for what she was leaving behind, she turned into a pillar of salt – virtually trapped in the past she had longed for; “left behind” by her own choice, her own desires.

The original “Left Behind” movie was equally fascinating in that so many just up and disappeared without a trace.  Those who had been left behind were caught completely by surprise.  They had not been given a choice; the choice had been made without them.  Or we may possibly say their choices prior to this moment had determined the outcome.

But what has long stood out for me was one character in particular, a pastor.  He had been “left behind”.  His wife and kids and congregation were gone, but he was still around.  Once he got next to the idea of what had happened, he was alone in the sanctuary, not quite praying but questioning The Lord, wondering why he was still there.

While he was trying to work it all out, maybe arguing with himself more than with The Lord, it occurred to him that even though he preached it and taught it and “they all bought it” (his words), he never really believed it himself. 

I wonder, though, if there was at least some hope within him as he preached it and taught it.  Given that his entire congregation was gone, I tend to think he had certainly preached it with profound hope!  St. Paul wrote to the Romans that “hope does not disappoint” (5:5), so can there be a difference between belief and hope?

I suppose it may all depend on what exactly we really hope for.  Do we, for instance, hope our will be done?  Or do we earnestly pray The Lord’s will be done?  We’ve sufficiently memorized The Lord’s Prayer to that end.  We say it, but do we mean it?

And when preachers (or prophets) show up and call upon us to repent, do we listen and respond with a measure of sincere hope?  Or do we write them off as though they are talking to “them” but not to “us”?  The Baptizer was telling his audiences The Lord was coming, so they needed to prepare themselves.  They needed to look ahead with hope, not look behind with longing.

These are hard questions we must answer for ourselves.  We say we hope in Christ, we sing as hoping in Christ … but is that really what we hope for?  Eventually, I’m sure, we get around to that idea, but what does tomorrow hold for us immediately?  A raise?  A promotion?  A new car? 

These are, for many, the things we genuinely hope for.  These are the things that preoccupy many of us, maybe most of us.  But as Advent teaches us to expect Christ to return, do we dare hope?  Or do we hope more for daily living to go our way?

The Baptizer had a message of hope, and people responded in droves.  Yet his message does not resonate well today even in the Church, and I’m not really sure why.  Could it be that a call to “repent” does not go over very well?  Do we not believe we need to “flee the wrath that is to come”?  That was the Baptizer’s message, and it was John Wesley’s fundamental requirement for all who wanted to be a part of his classes.  It is the basis upon which Methodism took root.

Here’s the thing about repentance, though, and I think it is the reason the word does not play well.  We know that to “repent” means we have to change the direction and the order of our lives.  To “repent” quite possibly will mean we give up portions of our lives that have us weighed down.  To “repent” may mean some persons in our lives will have to go. 

In other words, to “repent” may well mean our lives will no longer be our own.  Our will can no longer be ours to determine.  Our choices are not really ours to make – not if we earnestly hope for the return of Messiah.

The Baptizer’s being, his very life, was not nearly as important to him as The Lord’s purpose in his life.  What if you and I were more tuned into The Lord’s purposes than our own being?  What if we were more concerned with The Lord’s work than with our own life’s work?  What if we were more concerned with growing the Faith of the Church rather than the size of our paychecks?  Or even the size of our congregation? 

What if The Lord shows up tomorrow, and we are fully prepared and conditioned NOT to “go back” for things we’ve become far too attached to? 

As we continue through the journey that is Advent, let us further condition ourselves to “judge (and test) ourselves so we may not come under judgement” (1 Cor 11:31).  Let us learn to be a little harder and a little more honest with ourselves according to His Word and not according to our culture. 

Let us dare to hope for salvation that is to come much more likely to those who least expect it rather than to those who think they are entitled.  What if what St. Peter wrote is true:If you address as Father the One who impartially judges according to each one's work, conduct yourselves in fear during the time of your stay on earth” (1 Peter 1:17)?

What if He is even more merciful than we dared to hope?  I think He must be … if that is truly what we hope for above all else.  Amen.

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