Give Him Your Heart. Christmas 2017

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In the bleak midwinter, right here and right now.Christmas 2017

+For years I dismissed the hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter.” The title itself turned me off---bleak midwinter? Forget it! But then I heard Annie Lennox’ version on her album Christmas Cornucopia. Lennox’ rendition is haunting, and the words hit me as being so honest, that I now listen to “In the Bleak Mid-Winter” year ‘round and have even used it as part of a Holy Week meditation. I am grateful to Christina Rosetti, the English poet who penned the words to the hymn in the 19th century and to Annie Lennox who got me to listen to it anew in the 21st.
My favorite line, and the one that summarizes my theology of Christmas well is this:  
“Our God, Heaven cannot hold “Him” nor earth sustain.”
God is so huge, so massive, so untamed that God’s… well God’s “Godness…” God’s Divinity…cannot be held in check. The Love and Light of all that is good in heaven and on earth cannot be contained, secured or held back. 

On this most Holy of Nights, God erupts out of heaven and pours out onto the earth.
In a barn.
In Bethlehem.
To a human mother.
Born. In the regular way---with the pain and the muck and the terror and the unspeakable, incomprehensible joy.
In the bleak midwinter…right here, and right now GOD has come to dwell among us.
In the bleak midwinter, right here and right now, God has arrived as a squawking, hungry, maybe even colicky baby.
In the bleak midwinter, right here and right now, in Attica New York, [in Buffalo New York], God has, once again arrived…as a vulnerable little being, in need of nurture. In need of care. In need of Love.
In the bleak midwinter, right here and right now, on this Holy night, God has descended from the heavenly throne to meet us right where weare.
In the Bleak Midwinter.
In Western New York.
In our hearts and throughout our souls,
God has arrived.
Here and Now, JUST AS WE ARE, God has come.
You who may only be here because your grandmother, grandfather, parent, sibling, spouse expects that you will , at least once or twice a year, attend church…

God has come for you and because of you.
You who may be a faithful attendee of church but who, if you’re honest, doesn’t even know what you believe anymore, God has come. For you, because of you, with you.
You who have so much fear, so much loss, so much doubt, God has come. Here and Now.
To be with you.
To be for you,
To be in you
To Be.
Here and Now
In the bleak midwinter of our lives, God, as God does again and again and again, God has come to be with us.
In the bleak midwinter our God, OUR GOD, the God for you, the God for me, the God for everyone everywhere, always and forever, has come because neither Heaven can hold this God, nor can Earth sustain. So this
 God, our God bridges the here and now with the always and forever.
     On this Holy Night, in this Bleak mid-winter, during our regular lives, full of hope and joy, full of doubt and despair, full of wonder and wander, God has come.
Not to judge.
Or to destroy
Or to terrorize.
No, on this Holy Night, in this mid-winter and in this place, God has broken into the world because God cannot stay away.
For God so loved the world that God came to be among us as Jesus the Christ.
God has broken free of heaven to roam this earth because God needs us.
And God knows, we need God.
    Perhaps you’re shocked that God needs us.
Perhaps you’re uncomfortable with the idea that you need God.
It’s why this night is so amazing, because it’s so very real:
We’re in this together, God and us. We both have our parts in bringing the Love, Light and Peace of God to this world. Right here and right now, on this Holy Night,  as we welcome the infant Jesus, we must remember that this birth, this baby, this gift is given to us and for us.

As the hymn states,
“What can I give him,
poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb;
if I were a wise man,
I would do my part;
yet what I can I give him-
give my heart.”
    It’s so easy to dismiss the arrival of God incarnate as a gift for someone else. Someone more worthy, someone more holy, someone more devoted.
It’s so easy to dismiss the arrival of God in the person of the Baby Jesus as something much too big for us to fathom, for us to earn, for us to understand. And you know what? It is. It’s too big, we can never earn it, and we certainly can never understand it.
Perhaps if we were wiser, we would do our part, perhaps if we were shepherds we would bring a lamb but we, you and me here and now on this Holy Night, what can we possibly do with the greatest gift ever given? 

                            We can accept it.

We can open our hearts and invite God in. My friends, here. Now, on this Holy Night I invite you to give this baby, our baby, our Lord, and our Savior, your heart.
Amen.Give

Soothing is temporary. Comfort is forever. St Luke’s Attica Advent 2B 2017

+”Comfort O Comfort my people, says the prophet Isaiah.
I don’t know about you, but I like to be comfortable. After a cold walk out to the barn, I love to change into flannel pants and a cozy sweatshirt.
We speak of comfort a lot---when someone seems really self-assured we say, “They’re so comfortable in their own skin.” Or when we eat a big old pot roast, or make a nice steaming stew, we call it comfort food.
This morning Isaiah is expressing a common refrain---we like to be comfortable…we long to be comfortable.
    The Israelites have just come out of exile; returning to the land their parents and grandparents had been forced to leave behind. A land the current generation had never lived in. For them, “home” was simply a fantasy, a place where problems never existed, where, if they could just get back, everything would be fine.
    I know the feeling. How many of us have said, “everything will be ok, just as soon as I make a little more money, or just as soon as the kids get a bit older, or as soon as my parent’s health problems stabilize, or as soon as my boss gives me a break.”
The Israelites thought, “everything will be ok, once we get home.”
But Isaiah is saying that while returning home was certainly soothing, it wouldn’t provide the comfort the Israelites longed for…because…
Only God can do that.
There’s only one source of true comfort: God.
We mistake all sorts of things for comfort. Often, what we think is comforting is, simply, soothing.
And soothing is qualitatively different than comforting.
To soothe is to alleviate, placate, relieve.
To comfort is to give strength and hope even in the most challenging of circumstances.
Soothing is temporary. Comfort is forever.
    Now, there’s nothing wrong with being soothed---there’s an awful lot of discomfort in our daily lives which is alleviated through soothing….and, even though when the soothing ends the discomfort returns, that little respite gives us the energy to fight through the disappointments and worries of daily life.
But, sometimes really bad things happen to us: Death, illness, abuse, heartbreak and hopelessness. Things that make us feel fragile, vulnerable, at risk. When that happens, we don’t need soothing, we need comfort.
As most of you know, a month ago I lost my wife to cancer. What gives more comfort than anything else in these dark days are those who’ve responded with cursing, laments and tears. I find this reaction honest and true. What really drives me nuts are those people who say, “oh you’ll be fine, every day will get easier.” Now, I know they’re just trying to soothe me…to give me a little relief…but I don’t want soothing I don’t want distraction. I CAN’T be distracted. Because-- and those of you who’ve dealt with deep hurt, fear and heartache know what I mean--when experiencing such gut-wrenching, life-changing events, nothing distracts.  You never forget what you’re going through. You can’t.
Soothing may distract, but it does not comfort. And comfort is what I long for.
Comfort is what I find through tears and laments.  Because when I fall apart, when I lose control, I am letting go and letting God. I’m making room for God’s comfort to envelope me.
      Isaiah knew that only by letting go of control, of the “what ifs”, the “if onlys,” the “whens” and the “one days,” do we allow God room to comfort us.
     Today I’m reminded of an inescapable reality—our resilience, our faith, our strength, our hope will, at times, wither and fade…at times life can just become TOO MUCH for us. And that’s ok.
Because we have God.
And God’s comfort is the one thing that will NEVER wither or fade.
     As our life unfolds, things happen: our paths get crooked, our valleys deepen, the mountains of despair grow higher and our spirit? It suffers. Soothing may take our mind off of the bumpy road, the deep valleys and the treacherous mountains of life, but when the soothing ends—and soothing always ends—we’re left with the crooked, the deep and the tall troubles of life. But when we focus on comfort, when we diligently and deliberately seek comfort in our lives, the road will straighten, the valley will rise, the mountains will lower and our spirit will renew.
So, my friends, focus not on what soothes, but rather focus on the One who comforts.
   Advent is a time to prepare for the coming of the Great Comforter, to ready ourselves for accepting the presence of God in our very lives and into our very beings. It’s a time when we accept that life is not always easy, and that fixes are not always quick. It’s a time when we accept that soothing, while less risky to pursue will, in time, wither and fade. It’s a time when we, each and every one of us, must prepare ourselves to accept the greatest comfort God has ever given us: a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. +