Andy James

wandering the web since 1997

Presbyterian minister in Atlanta.
Music lover.
Found beer in seminary.

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Light in the Darkness

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a sermon on Luke 2:1-20, Isaiah 9:2-7, and John 1:1-14
preached on December 24, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Sometimes it is hard to see the light. Even on these shortest days of the year, we are surrounded with more lights than we can every imagine. The bright lights of our city shine even more brightly surrounded by the festive bulbs of this season which seem to get brighter with each passing year. It turns out that our nation uses more electricity on Christmas lights than El Salvador, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Nepal, or Cambodia use in an entire year! Yet even with all these lights around us, the darkness of our world seems to prevail so easily.

As I look back over this year, I have seen so much of this pervasive darkness around us. In this darkness, we have been able to see refugees turned away in fear after putting their lives at risk to seek safety. In this darkness, we have been able to see war and strife escalate around the world as prayers and actions for peace seem to go unheard. In this darkness, we have been able to see people treated unfairly because of the color of their skin or the faith they choose to practice. In this darkness, we have been able to see countless people harmed by acts of terror, in startling acts of violence driven by perverted interpretations of faith, in the senseless and preventable tragedies of mass shootings, and in the deep hurt of violence perpetrated in the unseen recesses of homes far and near. And in this darkness, we have been able to see the politics of fear and hatred rise up with a new vengeance.

The darkness of our world is all too familiar, but there is plenty of darkness in our lives closer to home, too—maybe in the pain and hurt of divided families, perhaps in the midst of friendships challenged by change, maybe in distance of time or space that drives us apart from those we love, in illness and loneliness, in the search for meaningful work, in so many things that we can easily name, and in so many things that cannot so easily be named. Sometimes, oftentimes, it is hard to see the light.

When we look back to that first Christmas, it is easy to imagine that they had an easier time of seeing the light, but I think that the first Christmas had plenty of darkness, too. After all, the whole story began with an unexpected and unplanned child, conceived before the socially acceptable time. There was a special government edict that required a pregnant mother to put her health and life at risk to travel so close to her baby’s due date. There was a shortage of rooms in the inn that left this family with no place to stay other than in the manger out back. And a fear of the angel of the Lord left a bunch of shepherds cowering in the field.

Yet the events we celebrate tonight assure us that darkness is not the last word and that God is with us in all the darkness around us. “The glory of the Lord shone around them” when the shepherds were afraid, and they saw that there was light in their darkness. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined,” and they saw that there was light in their darkness. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it”—and so we too can see that there is light in our darkness.

Even so, this good news of the birth of Jesus that we celebrate tonight does not mean that all the darkness of our world is suddenly flooded with light. Rather, the birth of Jesus at Christmas assures us that this light shines in the darkness, that there will be enough light from the glory of God in our midst to show us the way through to the new day that Christ will bring into being. I think author and preacher Barbara Brown Taylor puts it well:

Even when light fades and darkness falls—as it does every single day, in every single life—God does not turn the world over to some other deity. Even when you cannot see where you are going and no one answers when you call, this is not sufficient proof that you are alone. There is a divine presence that transcends all your ideas about it, along with all your language for calling it to your aid… But whether you decide to trust the witness of those who have gone before you, or you decide to do whatever it takes to become a witness yourself, here is the witness of faith: darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day. (Learning to Walk in the Dark, p. 15-16)

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” So in this world where it is so often hard to see the light, may we be people of the light—people working to shine God’s light into our weary world, people seeking to be a light shining in the darkness, people watching and waiting and working for a new and greater light to come into our world—so that we might see the glory of God in Jesus Christ this Christmas and every day until he comes in even greater glory to make all things new. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

Joseph: The Last to Know

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a sermon on Matthew 1:18-25
preached on December 20, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Joseph must have been the last to know. They had been pledged to each other, all the steps toward marriage complete except for the final ceremony and celebration, when Mary figured out that something was going on in her body, that she was growing another human being inside her. Joseph would have had no clue about this for a while unless Mary told him what was going on, so I suspect she waited as long as she possibly could to tell him. Surely Mary knew that things would not go well when she did finally tell him—after all, modern attitudes about having children before marriage would not begin to kick in in most communities for two thousand years or so.

When he did find out, Joseph prepared to do exactly what you would expect—he decided to protect her reputation by “dismiss[ing] her quietly.” Except God had other plans. “Just when [Joseph] had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream.” Mary and her child would not be dismissed quietly so easily, for God was at work in her life. The angel told Joseph that he should take Mary as his wife after all, that there was no disgrace worth fearing from marrying her, for “the child conceived in her [was] from the Holy Spirit.” The next steps then became clear: Mary was to bear a son, whom he should name Jesus, “for he will save his people from their sins.”

When Joseph awoke from his dream, he set aside his plans to send Mary away. He followed the angel’s instructions and reaffirmed his commitment to her. Against all the cultural norms and expectations, Joseph took Mary as his wife and welcomed her son by the Holy Spirit as his own. In so doing, he took his place in the long line of his ancestors who had waited, watched, and worked for the coming of the Messiah. As Matthew puts it, “All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,’ which means, ‘God is with us.’” Even though his initial instincts suggested that he should do otherwise, Joseph would not get in the way of this new thing that God was doing in the world. Joseph may have been the last to know, but he was among the first to get out of the way of what God was doing in the life of Jesus.

As this season of Advent preparation draws to a close, as our look at some of the major personalities who mark these days comes to an end, Joseph gives us yet another perspective on how God calls us to wait in hope and respond in faith to the coming of Jesus into our world. Like Zechariah and Mary and Elizabeth before him, Joseph’s surprise at the events that unfolded around him cannot be duplicated in our own celebrations of the coming of Jesus at Christmas. When we enter these days of waiting, we generally know how things will turn out. The annual commemoration of Jesus’ birth will go forward as it always does. We will celebrate Christmas in the usual way at the usual time on the usual day. December 25th will come, and we will share this great feast that marks our lives and our world, and then we will return to the way things have been before until Christmas comes again next year.

But in that first Advent over two thousand years ago, these women and men found themselves in a much different place. They had varying levels of confidence in the proclamation offered to them by the angels, because the promises offered to them had not yet been fulfilled. They may have been told something about how the story of the birth of Jesus would go forward, but they certainly had no idea how this story would go on to end some thirty or so years later.

Like Zechariah, Mary, and Elizabeth, Joseph had to step out in faith. Doing what the angel told him to do would put his reputation on the line and risk his past, his present, and his future. Marrying this woman who became pregnant before she was married would risk being pulled away from his family. He could have been separated from his wife through her own punishment for this act that would be attributed to her. If they managed to stick together, everyone would have known what had happened to them, and the social capacity to shun such misbehavior was developed many centuries ago. Going forward as the angel instructed may have even left this new family without a way to get by—after all, who would hire a carpenter who married such a woman?

In the end, all these things would bring huge changes for them. In Matthew’s telling of the story, Joseph and Mary would be forced to leave their hometown of Bethlehem, first escaping to Egypt to elude the death squads of King Herod who came targeting all the infant boys of Jesus’ age, then finally settling in Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth to stay far, far away from this evil and jealous family. However, all this also meant that Joseph, Mary, and Jesus were able to begin a new life in a new town, separated from those who knew about this potentially disgraceful past by some 70 miles—maybe not all that far in our own time, but a long way in those days. Joseph may have been the last to know, but in the end he acted in confidence and hope that gave the space for Jesus to live out his call.

As we walk in our own Advent days, Joseph’s example can inspire and guide us in our own preparation. While we know what to expect in the days of Christmas that come so quickly before us, these Advent days still point us ahead to a time whose events are not so clear to us. So as we wait and watch and work for a different day to come, for the wonder of God’s kingdom to be unveiled in our midst, for the fullness of hope to be revealed among us, we can join with Joseph to trust God’s proclamation for our own world.

First, we can set aside our fears of being called out because we are different from others because of what we believe. Just as Joseph could stop worrying about what other people would say about his wife and child who might bear disgrace, we can stop worrying about whether other people will recognize our holidays, whether those we encounter will wish us a Merry Christmas, or whether we our way of life will be changed by people who think, believe, or practice their faith differently than we do. Whatever comes of these things, God’s presence will be with us, and that is what matters for us, just as it was what mattered for Joseph.

With Joseph as a witness for us, we can also think differently about the social assumptions we place upon people. If we act in the ways that God seemingly decrees for us, we would join the community—and Joseph himself—in rejecting the mother and child who brought salvation to our world! Instead, the witness of Joseph reminds us that God might be working beyond our expectations and usual pathways to bring something new into being around us. The people we so easily want to reject might just be the ones to show us a new way. God might just be working in ways beyond our comprehension to welcome a new thing into being. We are called to offer the kind of grace to all people that Joseph showed to Mary and Jesus, regardless of our fear, trusting that God is present in all these things in the transformation of our world through Jesus.

And Joseph’s witness reminds us that even when we do not know where the journey will lead us, God will go with us. Just as Joseph had no clue where he would end up as he welcomed this unexpected news and yet trusted the word of God offered to him by the angel, so we can trust the wondrous word that God offers us today, inviting us to set out on a different pathway, even if we cannot see where it will lead. Even though Joseph was the last to know what that road would look like, he was among the first to step out and follow, trusting that God would go with this holy family and guide them all along the way.

So as we walk these final Advent days, may we deeply trust that God is with us, setting aside our fears of how others might see the steps we take on this journey, welcoming others to join us along the way, and watching for signs of God’s presence on the journey until our greatest hope is fulfilled and all things are made new through Jesus Christ our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

Mary: Casting Aside Fear

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a sermon on Luke 1:26-55
preached on December 13, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

It had begun as an ordinary day in an ordinary town in Palestine for an ordinary hometown girl Mary, but by the time it was over everything was different for everyone. In the midst of this ordinary day, the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and gave her the surprise of a lifetime. She had to have been startled and afraid, to say the least. What did God want to do with her anyway? She was just a young girl, waiting for her day to come as she would move into full adulthood upon her marriage to Joseph, preparing for the journey of life that seemed to be clear before her—but not yet begun—in marriage and childbearing, watching for something new to take hold in her own world and in the world around her.

But the angel Gabriel explained that God could and would do amazing things in and through her. First, he assured Mary that there was nothing to fear in this surprising visit. She had “found favor with God” and would “conceive in [her] womb and bear a son,” who would “be great, and… called the Son of the Most High.” Even her virginity would not get in the way of all this, for she would bear this holy child by the power of the Holy Spirit. After all this, just to make it abundantly clear, he closed by assuring her, “Nothing will be impossible with God.” Mary responded with confidence beyond her young age: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” As the angel left her, she returned to her day, her life forever changed by this encounter on this ordinary day.

The days that change us usually start out looking pretty ordinary, too. Whether things change for the better or the worse, there is strangely little that distinguishes days of great change for us from others at first. The day we get a new job offer, the day we learn of the death of a good friend, the day the world around us seems to break down in yet another way—all these days begin in the same way even though they end with incredible shifts of life to bring us hope or cause us despair.

While our ordinary days are rarely if ever marked with the sort of direct encounter with an angel of the Lord as Mary experienced, we might find God in our midst in unexpected ways on our ordinary days. Maybe we will receive a surprising possibility that offers us a new and different way for the days ahead. Maybe a crisis will come that leaves us seeking God’s presence and hope as we respond. Or maybe our hopes and expectations for life have been upended, with no clear understandings of different possibilities for the days ahead even as we are challenged to set aside our fears and live in hope.

Amid all these unexpected encounters with God, the angel’s words to Mary should echo in our lives, too. The angel’s confident words “do not be afraid” and “nothing will be impossible with God” are addressed to us, too. In these fearful days, when even the most ordinary days seem filled with the possibilities of terror, when we wonder when, not if, when we will be victims of some dramatic tragedy, when we learn about disaster and crisis in every corner of the world almost instantaneously, when we are so easily turned against our common humanity because of our fears of things that are different or beyond our comprehension, when even the hopeful things of our lives can lead us to live in fear, the angel’s words to Mary should give us comfort. We do not have to be paralyzed by uncertainty, torn apart by anxiety, forced to live in fear and paranoia, or left wondering what will happen to us. In the light of Mary’s encounter with the angel, we can instead be confident that God’s presence will sustain us on our ordinary and extraordinary days. Even the transformation that we so desperately need and that seems so impossible to attain will not be impossible with God.

Mary’s changed life continued as she set out to meet her cousin Elizabeth. The angel had told her that Elizabeth was also experiencing the unexpected gift of a child, and so she set out to share these days with her relative. When she arrived, their joyous meeting reflected the new ordinary for both of them. They were filled with hope and wonder at the new lives that they were bearing into the world, and there was something incredible about sharing it together.

As their joy and hope met, they both broke into song. Elizabeth celebrated the gift of encountering this woman who would bear such a life into the world. Her son, still in her womb, leaped for joy as soon as Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, and they were all filled with the blessing of God as they shared this time.

Then Mary offered up her own words of praise in the incredible words that have come to be known as the Magnificat. Her rejoicing was directly addressed to God who made all these things possible, who lifted up this lowly, ordinary servant, showered great blessing upon her, and showed the wonder of God’s name in these acts. She rejoiced that God was doing a new thing in and through her to transform the world, showing strength and power and might over against the seemingly powerful persons of the world, lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry, sending the rich away empty, and helping God’s people by showing the depths of mercy and hope from generation to generation.

We can know these depths of mercy and hope in our own generation, too. We can walk together with our sisters and brothers in faith and life as Mary and Elizabeth did to find the hope that we need in our ordinary and extraordinary days. When we are overcome by fear and uncertainty, we can come together to find support for the journey. When we are tempted to retreat to our own corners of life and separate ourselves from others, we are reminded that we are better together. And when there is cause for rejoicing in our lives, there is no better way to do it than to share such a moment with others.

We can join Elizabeth and Mary in songs of praise to God of our own. When our world leaves us wondering how we might begin to offer thanks, we can still offer our cries for a different way. When we cry out in this way for God’s transformation to take hold, we praise God for the ways in which things have changed before and show the depth of our faith and hope that these things can and will take place again. And as our experiences bring songs of praise, we join our voices with Elizabeth and Mary and so many other generations, celebrating the ways that God has been at work in our midst even as we look for all things to be possible in God’s gift of the days ahead and work to set aside our fears so that we can fully participate in God’s new creation as it comes into our midst.

So as we journey through these Advent days, may we trust that the angel who spoke to Mary speaks also to us on our most ordinary and most extraordinary days, inviting us to set aside our fears and trust that nothing will be impossible with God, so that we might share in the wonder and hope that comes to us in the birth, life, death, resurrection, and reign of Jesus Christ until he comes again to make us and all things new. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

Zechariah: Waiting in Silence and Hope

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a sermon on Luke 1:5-25, 57-66
preached on November 29, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Advent is my favorite season of the church year. In the midst of the most commercialized, over-the-top, schmaltzy season of our broader culture, the church offers us a gift in Advent as we pull back and think about the process of preparation for the things ahead, remember the roots of our celebration of Christmas, and look for ways to embody the unique gift of being the people of God in this way in this time.

During these Advent days, we exist in a different sense of time. We set aside Christmas carols for a few weeks and gather around the new flame of this simple wreath. We step back from the hurried pace of these busy days to wait and watch and pray together. And we offer the world a reminder that we are always preparing for something more than just the next holiday—we are preparing for a new and different way of life that will come in the return of Jesus Christ.

The gospels of Matthew and Luke introduce us to several people who were a part of the first Advent, who were among the first to see this new way of life in its fullness. Matthew gives us the story of Jesus’ earthly father Joseph, and Luke tells us about Zechariah and Elizabeth, two of Jesus’ relatives who had their own son about the same time as Jesus,  and then of course Mary, the mother of Jesus. These rich stories of getting ready to welcome Jesus can be helpful guides for us as we journey our way through our own season of preparation. So over this season, we will look at Zechariah, Mary, and Joseph, hoping to learn from their examples of preparation as we live in the different understanding of time in these Advent days.

Zechariah has always been one of my favorite figures in the Advent and Christmas story. He might be one of the lesser-known characters in the run-up to Jesus’ birth, but I think he is one of the most real and honest of them all. Zechariah was a member of the priestly order, and he took this role and work seriously. He lived righteously and blamelessly before God in a day and age when this old order was not exactly known for such things. Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth were “getting on in years,” as our translation puts it gently, and they had no children, a mark of great disgrace in that time.

As Zechariah took up his place in the rotation of priests in the temple, he received the honor of going into the inner sanctuary to offer incense. He had no idea when he went in that everything would be different when he came out. It all began pretty normally—the people were gathered around outside praying, and Zechariah offered the incense—but then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, shattering the normalcy of the moment and offering a startling new word to him. As the crowd stood by waiting outside, Zechariah listened as the angel told him the new things that would be ahead for him and Elizabeth: she would bear a son, to be named John; he would bring them great joy and happiness, then go on to “turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God” and “make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

As exciting and hopeful as this news surely was, Zechariah was wary of becoming too hopeful. After all, he and Elizabeth had been praying and living faithfully for many years, hoping beyond hope that they would have a child, but their prayers had gone unanswered. Now, all of the sudden, how was he to believe all of this? Had he and Elizabeth suddenly gotten younger? What proof could he have that this might actually happen to them? His uncertainty was well-founded, but the angel would have nothing of it. The angel told Zechariah, “Because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.” And so Zechariah emerged from the temple, unable to describe his experience to anyone, longing for a way to make it clear that there was something new ahead for him, left to encounter the days of waiting and transformation in silence.

The months passed, and Elizabeth indeed became pregnant. She was visited by her cousin Mary, who was also expecting her first child in entirely unexpected circumstances. Zechariah remained mute throughout the birth of their son and even until they prepared to circumcise him on the eighth day. Elizabeth had insisted that they name the boy John, as the angel had instructed Zechariah, but the men in the family did not take her seriously since there was no other relative with that name. They were all ready to name the child Zechariah, after his father, until Zechariah wrote to them, “His name is John.”

Only then was Zechariah’s imposed silence ended. His questioning was now over, and he fully acknowledged the incredible gift that God had given them. He then offered an incredible song of praise that formed the basis for our last hymn, finally expressing all the emotions and joys that had been spinning in his head for nine months, giving voice to his praise for the history of faithful people and prophets in the life of Israel, naming God’s call to be a prophet for his son even from this early age, and claiming that his son’s birth was the beginning of a new day for God’s people as

the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Zechariah’s story and song are incredible gifts for us in this season of Advent as we prepare our hearts and minds to welcome Jesus and live in the different understanding of time that this season offers us. First, his example of patient yet hopeful waiting can set an example for us. In these days when so much seems to be in need of change, in our lives where we long for a new and different way, in our world where so many seem to sit in permanent darkness, we can join Zechariah in his patient, faithful waiting. We can listen carefully to God’s voice inviting us to trust that there is a different way ahead, that the seemingly-endless litany of woe before us will not go on forever, that the dawn from on high will break upon us and God will guide our feet into the way of peace. And we can do the big and little things that we know how to bring about change in our world. We can raise awareness of those places and people in our world who are in great need. We can encourage those in positions of power to act with wisdom and hope for the betterment of all people. And we can change our patterns of life so that we offer as much as we can to make the world more in the image of the kingdom that God is bringing into being even now around us.

But Zechariah’s example can also inspire us to take hope when we hear God speaking. Now we are certainly unlikely to encounter God in the voice and presence of an angel in the way that Zechariah did, but God still speaks among us. God still speaks among us in the gift of the Bible, giving us wisdom and guidance for the living of these days. God still speaks among us in the faithful proclamation of God’s servants, inviting us to live into this new sense of time and join in making way for the new life that comes among us at Christmas. And God still speaks among us in those who walk beside us along life’s journeys, guiding us through difficult days and supporting us as we seek to take new paths together.

And finally, Zechariah’s story and song remind us that we are called to sing our songs of praise to God loud and clear every day. Even when we might still be uncertain, we raise our songs of praise to God, not just for the things that we have seen with our own eyes but also for the promise that lies ahead. Even when we are still waiting, we join our voices with Zechariah’s for the wonder of God’s presence in our midst over so many ages, for the gift of those who call us to prepare the way of the Lord in these uncertain days, and for the gift of God in Jesus Christ, who comes among us to make all things new.

So as we enter these Advent days, may God strengthen us for this time of preparation by the witness of faithful servants like Zechariah, so that we might wait for this great celebration of Christmas with patience and hope, greet the voices of these days with expectation and joyful participation, and raise our songs of praise for all the gifts of God in our midst, even as we prepare our hearts and lives and world to welcome the great return of Christ, who is coming soon to make all things new. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

A Reign for the Ages

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a sermon on Revelation 1:4b-8 and John 18:33-37
preached on November 22, 2015, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

One of the things I was most excited about seeing on my trip to Greece last summer with the New Amsterdam Singers was the island of Patmos. This small island in the Aegean Sea is the place where John is understood to have written the book of Revelation that we heard read this morning. This was my first trip to a biblical place, the first time that I would experience for myself a place that I have studied in seminary and beyond, the first time I would see with my own eyes something like what these biblical writers saw for themselves.

By these standards, Patmos was a bit of a disappointment. We spent all of four hours on the island. After being shuttled back and forth to the island from our cruise ship on smaller boats, we were herded with hundreds of others to and through the different sights of the island, the chapel built on the spot where it is believed that the book of Revelation was written and the monastery higher up the island where Greek Orthodox monks have found a home for nearly one thousand years. The mystery of the writing of Revelation was stripped away as literally every crevice in the rock was explained to us, and the wonder of it all was difficult to find beneath the spectacle. The spiritual experience I wanted on this holy island barely emerged through this rushed and crowded time, and in the end I left Patmos a bit frustrated that I had built up my expectations and had them so badly shattered along the way.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised about this, though—our expectations about the things ahead and the kingdom of God in Christ have been shattered over and over again since those words were first written. Since Jesus’ own lifetime, Christians have been expecting him to come and make things different right now. From the earliest disciples, those who have followed Jesus have wanted him to show his power and change the world, to “claim the kingdom for thine own,” as our last hymn described it so well. Even though we have seen the powers of death and hell broken in the wonder of the resurrection, the powers of our world still seem very much in control, and the reign of peace and justice that we long for seems further and further away each and every day.

This reign of Christ that we celebrate on this Sunday at the end of the liturgical year was not even fully captured in Jesus’ own mind. In the words of our reading in the gospel of John, Jesus made it clear that his kingdom was not what anyone expected. While he came proclaiming a new kingdom, he made the strange nature of this kingdom clear in his words to the Roman governor Pilate: “My kingdom is not from this world.” Jesus had been accused of being “King of the Jews,” a preposterous and treasonous title in first-century Palestine, for in those days there was no king but Caesar.

But whatever others thought about him, Jesus knew that he would not measure up to the expectations that everyone had of this king. While earthly rulers would inevitably focus on some personal agenda and place the well-being of the ruling classes above the welfare of all, this king’s rule would be rooted in God’s truth. While the subjects of the earthly realm would rise up and fight to have this king recognized here and now, this king’s rule would be established not with weapons or even words but in the glory of death and resurrection. And while the politics of this world and the simple realities of life and death would demand that any and every rule would come to an end, this king’s rule would continue forever.

In this day and age, I think we need this kind of reign for the ages as much as ever. Our world is quite a mess, really. The rulers we have are struggling to guide us out of difficult days, care for the poor, and find a way toward peace—and the people who want to take their place aren’t likely to do much better or worse, really. The media bombard us with the latest news of violence and terror from around the world, leaving us to fear for our own safety in a day and age when we ourselves bear minute statistical risk even as we ignore the real danger faced by so many others. And our nation of immigrants fears so much for its safety that we want to slam the door on those who are trying to escape far more real danger than we can even imagine. Our expectations of good things have been shattered over and over and over again.

But the hope and promise of the gospel is that things will not be this way forever. Even when it is hard to see, we know and trust and believe that the reign of Christ has already begun. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we see that the kingdoms that seem to define our world no longer do so. In the light of the resurrection, we begin to understand that the kingdom that Jesus once described as not of this world is yet moving into our midst. And in the hopeful witness of Revelation, we gain a glimpse of the great kingdom that is ahead, with us as its members and Christ at the head.

With the fullness of this reign for the ages still to come, we still must figure out how to live in these in-between times. We can’t just sit around and let things get increasingly worse until Jesus comes. Instead, we are called to follow Jesus into a new and different way of life, showing care and concern for the poor and outcast, working to change the systems that make some lives matter more than others, and setting aside our fears of the other as we recognize that we are united into one kingdom under Christ.

But we do not just do all these things on our own, as individuals, in moments when we find it easy to do these things. As a community who follows Jesus, we are called to a different way of life together, listening closely to one another’s concerns, seeking a route to forgiveness when we find ourselves at odds with one another, and being a living witness as a congregation and broader church each and every day to the abundant freedom for life and mission that we find for ourselves in Christ. We do not approach these things with the goal of making everyone believe and act like us but rather with the hope that our world will witness the continuing life and hope of Jesus Christ in us.

So as we celebrate this reign for the ages today, may God guide us in these days as we join in the kingdom that is among us even as we wait, watch, and work for the greater joy that is ahead in the coming of Jesus Christ our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.