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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