light — Andy James

Light on the Mountaintop

February 7, 2016 By Andy James

a sermon on Exodus 34:29-35 and Luke 9:28-36
preached on February 7, 2016, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Transfiguration Sunday is one of my favorite days of the church year. It is one of those church holidays that will almost certainly never get taken over by commercialism, in part because different parts of the church celebrate it at different times! It brings us to a story that seems to be incredibly important in the three synoptic gospels and that carried over into the celebrations of the church for many centuries in art and life. And it takes us to a mountaintop to see incredible and amazing light, helping us to see our faith and our world more clearly as we enter the season of Lent.

Our two readings this morning offer us two visions of this very clarity of sight because of God’s light on the mountaintop. First we hear of Moses’ strange shining face after encountering God on the mountaintop. After receiving the law from God on top of the mountain, Moses came down to meet with the people. The people were taken aback when they saw Moses. His face was shining with great light as it reflected the glory of God after his encounter on the mountaintop, and they were surprised and afraid. They knew their God as a fearful and vengeful God, as one whose glory they could not glimpse, as one who knew them and their foibles and flaws all too well, and when they saw Moses’ face aglow with even the reflection of that glory, they wondered and worried what might be coming next for them.

But this was not what Moses intended. He came down from the mountain hoping to engage the people in what God had shared with him. He wanted them to get a glimpse of the glory he had seen so that they might understand God’s presence better in the everyday. In sharing the light of his face, he hoped that they would join him in reflecting the incredible glory of God that had led them out of Egypt and would guide them into the Promised Land. But Moses’ shining face after his encounter with God on the mountain ended up being an incredible distraction for the people, so he covered his face with a veil when he was speaking with the people because they just weren’t ready to experience this light from the mountaintop quite yet.

Our second unique encounter with God and light on a mountaintop comes in our reading from the gospel according to Luke, where we hear of the transfiguration of Jesus that gives this Sunday in our liturgical calendar its name. As he prepared to begin the journey toward Jerusalem that would result in his trial and execution, Jesus took three of his disciples with him up on the mountain to pray, and suddenly “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” In the midst of this strange moment, Jesus was joined by two men, immediately recognizable as Moses and Elijah, and together these three “were speaking of [Jesus’] departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.”

As this light broke on this mountaintop, though, Peter, James, and John were barely able to keep their eyes open. Even amid their exhaustion, their glimpse of this glorious sight led Peter to utter one of the most bumbled lines of the New Testament: “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

As Peter was fumbling for words and actions to hold onto this moment of glory rather than to share it, a cloud overshadowed them, leaving the disciples filled with fear and trembling all the more, especially as a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” After this voice, the visitors disappeared, leaving Jesus alone with the disciples on the mountain, the strange radiance of the moment quickly dissipating as they all returned to the plain, recognizing all the more clearly that Jesus would soon be turning his face toward Jerusalem.

These two moments of light on the mountaintop give us glimpses of God’s glory shining into our world in incredible and surprising ways, but they also give us insight into the ways that we respond to this glory breaking into our midst. In both of these stories, the witnesses to this transfiguring light are taken aback. With Moses, the people shrink back when they see his face aglow and demand that he keep it covered up, and with Jesus, the disciples just want to find a way to hold on to the moment so that they do not lose it.

It seems that whenever we come close to the light of God, whether it be on the mountaintop or in the valley, we end up cowering in fear, seeking to avoid it and run away or to capture it and control it to limit its real effect on our lives. I suspect that this fear and anxiety around this light of God on the mountaintop probably comes less from it blinding us or showing us too much of God’s glory. Instead, it may be that this light illuminates us for who we are, showing that we are not the people God has made us to be, that we are not the people we claim to be, that we are unwilling and therefore unable to reflect the light of God’s glory into our dark and weary world.

All this may be what makes the story of the transfiguration so difficult for us. As much as we want God to change things in our world, we are so very deeply hesitant to change ourselves. As much as we want light to shine into the darkness, the glimpse of glory that comes from this light on the mountaintop leaves us speechless and fearful as it illumines our lives more than we might like. And as much as we want God’s glory to shine in us, we see in these stories that the reflections of God’s glory that can come in us might also require us to recognize the glory of God in others around us, to set aside our assumptions, stereotypes, and fears, to see our fellow humans as equal bearers of God’s image, regardless of the color of their skin, the understanding they carry of their gender, the form of their religious practice, the identity of those they love, or any other human characteristic.

Yet in spite of our fear, God’s glory still breaks into our midst, beginning with these encounters of light on the mountaintop, slowly but surely extending even into the dark valleys where things seem to be hidden but light slowly breaks in. The light of God’s glory shines upon our world in ways beyond our understanding, peeking through the clouds of hatred and anger that seem to overshadow the hopeful and joyous light of our lives, sending hope and life even into places where these seem to be so far away. And by God’s mercy, the wondrous light of God reflected in Moses’ shining face and Jesus’ changed appearance is reflected in us, for even when we resist God’s call to bear this light into our lives and our world, God guides us to overcome our fears and break through our uncertainty so that we can reflect the wonder and hope of this glory into our world.

The light on the mountaintop shines far and wide. This light begins in these incredible and beautiful places, illuminating faces with tremendous glory, glowing with wonder and hope for our weary world. This light shines on us and reflects through us into our broken and fearful world, giving us hope for all the difficult journeys of our lives and guiding us through the challenges of the Lent that lies ahead. And this light opens the pathway for us, showing us that even the darkest pathways will lead us to light, for even Jesus’ journey through death ended with an empty tomb.

So may God shine this light on us on this mountaintop, at this table where we gain another glimpse of this glory, and in every place on our journey, so that we might reflect the wonder and hope of God’s new life each and every day of the coming Lenten journey and beyond, until the joy of the resurrection is real for all as the whole creation is made new in Christ Jesus our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Alleluia! Amen.

The Bright Star

January 3, 2016 By Andy James

a sermon on Isaiah 60:1-6 and Matthew 2:1-12
preached on January 3, 2016, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

The light of Christmas is beginning to fade all around us. The discounts on Christmas decor are now up to 75 or 90 percent, if the stores haven’t given up on selling it altogether, and the unstoppable shift to Valentine’s Day has already begun. Tomorrow begins the inevitable return to the usual routine after two consecutive weeks of holidays for many people. Even the poinsettias here at the front of the sanctuary are wilting as we move beyond December 25.

But on this day when we celebrate Epiphany, the coming of the wise men as recounted in the gospel according to Matthew, the church calendar insists that we look at the bright star of Christ once more before we step away from it for another year. “Arise, shine, for your light has come!” the prophet declares. Isaiah almost certainly had another light in mind when he first wrote these words, but they nonetheless point beyond his immediate hope of new light in the returning exiles to the wondrous new light that broke into the world in Jesus Christ. And when the light comes, as it does in the appearance of a star in our gospel reading, it shines far beyond the places that we might expect, inviting even wise men from the East to respond with joy and hope to shine this light into the whole world.

In the light of this star, in the light of this season, we are called to bear forth this light into our world. This world is so weary, so much in need of new light. Violence strikes near and far, paralyzing us with fear. Hatred rises up from those who look like us and those who do not look like us, setting us against one another all the more. Uncertainty and fear hold us hostage, keeping us from following the light into new places and ways of living in hope. Our world needs the light of Christ, and we are called to let it shine in and through us each and every day.

There are so many ways that we can do this that it can sometimes be overwhelming! The darkness can be so great that we may have no idea where to begin shining our light. The light can shine from us in so many different ways that we may not know where we can offer our light best. And the gift of this light may overwhelm us, leaving us blinded and uncertain about how we can let it shine. So as we go out from the celebration of light to shine God’s light from our lives into the world, we may need a little help to sort out how we might shine in our world.

Toward that end, I offer you this star word to carry with you today.

This word speaks to one of the many ways that we can shine God’s light into our world. Think about how God is calling you to shine the light of this word into the world this year. If after a minute or two you just can’t see how you can make that word shine with God’s light in your life, then refresh this page and you will get another.

Friends, our light has come, and the glory of God has risen upon us, so may we shine God’s light into our weary world each and every day until all things are made new in the wondrous light of Jesus Christ our Lord. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Light in the Darkness

December 24, 2015 By Andy James

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.

Containing Christmas

January 4, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 2:1-12
preached on January 4, 2014, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

It feels like Christmas ought to be over by now. Sure, I still have my tree up at home, and our decorations are still up here in the church, but by next Sunday nearly all the visible signs of Christmas will be gone. Of course, that will be a good two weeks after our world has left Christmas behind. The old traditional twelve days of Christmas beginning on Christmas Day have instead become about two months of Christmas beginning as soon as the stores can shift Halloween candy and picked-over costumes into the clearance bins! But whether it be twelve days or two months, the time and seasons of this world can’t contain Christmas.

This uncontainable Christmas was the case from the very beginning. Even the four gospels that carry the stories of Jesus’ life to our own time tell us two somewhat different versions of the Christmas story, with different timetables for the parents’ travel and different visitors coming to pay homage to the newborn Jesus, not to mention different audiences for the news of his conception and birth. It is clear that a single telling of this story cannot capture all that this important event contains for us.

Matthew’s telling of it brings us several people who do everything they can to contain the meaning and message of this transformative event. First, the wise men from the East who have seen a star indicating the birth of the King of the Jews head directly to the capital city, Jerusalem, expecting that they would find a royal child there, never imagining that they might find him anywhere else. Everyone at the palace of King Herod has a similar response when these foreign visitors arrive, never thinking that God might be doing something outside the approved and endorsed channels of the puppet king placed in power by Roman authority. King Herod himself seeks to contain and control the meaning of this birth that might potentially undermine his very tenuous and limited authority by instructing the wise men to report back to him about the whereabouts of the child. Even beyond our story today, in the next few verses of Matthew, we hear the horrible story of how King Herod tried to contain the impact of the birth of Jesus by killing all the male children under age two in Bethlehem once he heard that some thought someone else had been born King of the Jews.

But all who would try to contain even this first Christmas were unsuccessful. The wise men were put back on their way to follow the star all the way to the place where it was guiding them by none other than King Herod. The halls of power in Jerusalem were released from their fear of the sinister King Herod by the wisdom of the chief priests and scribes as they sought the counsel of the prophets. And King Herod was thwarted in his attempts to destroy the child by dreams that sent the wise men home by another road and Jesus and his parents off to the safety of Egypt until they could safely settle back closer to their native land in their new hometown Nazareth. From the beginning, as hard as many might try, amidst so many misunderstandings and threats, the gift of Christmas simply could not be contained.

As this Christmas season comes to an end over the next few days, as we put away the decorations that mark this holiday for us, as we try to move on from the celebrations and holidays of this time of year and back into the normal pace of life, our temptation is to pack up the meaning of this season in those boxes alongside our ornaments and other marks of the season. But the deeper call of Christmas is not done once we pass the celebrations of Epiphany on Tuesday. We are not done with this season just because we have taken down the decorations from the church or our homes. And we must resist the temptation to contain Christmas to a brief season marked mostly by Christian attempts to co-opt pagan winter solstice festivals in late December. Poet Linda Felver puts the consequences of this beautifully, I think:

Let me not wrap, stack, box, bag, tie, tag, bundle, seal, keep Christmas.
Christmas kept is liable to mold.
Let me give Christmas away, unwrapped, by exuberant armfuls.
Let me share, dance, live Christmas unpretentiously, merrily, responsibly,
with overflowing hands, tireless steps and sparkling eyes.
Christmas given away will stay fresh—even until it comes again.

—“Let Me Not Keep Christmas,” from A Book of Christmas

When we try to contain Christmas to this brief season or limit the message that this birth brings to us, we always find that God has other ideas, suggesting that we must do more to live out God’s preference for the poor and oppressed, to stand with those who are hungry or in need, and to find Jesus among us where we would least expect to meet him. Pastor and activist Howard Thurman put this challenge of Christmas best, I think:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

—“The Work of Christmas,” in The Mood of Christmas & Other Celebrations

In his life among us that began that first Christmas, Jesus brings all these challenges into clearer view for us, reminding us that while we are not alone in doing this work, we are never excused from being the hands and feet and voice of Jesus in our world. In his birth amidst controversy and confusion, Jesus reminds us that the fullness of God’s presence is rarely found in the halls of power but far more often among the poor. In the myriad ways that he manages to avoid being contained by the ways of the world, Jesus reminds us that God’s power reaches far beyond our dreams and imagination. And in his message of a new way that begins to take hold at Christmas, he reminds us constantly that we are called to continue bearing this message of new life into the world, looking for openings to join in the transformation of those lost, broken, hungry, imprisoned, ruined, war-torn, and empty places where the light of Christ can shine into our world through people like us.

So when we finally give up on our attempts to contain Christmas, we find that we have no choice but to let the light of Christ shine through us. This light illumines our lives and makes us whole and complete, but when we are tempted to make this light our own and hoard it for ourselves and our own good feelings, we are called to let our light shine. We are called to share God’s glory with all those who come our way and to bear this transformative light into a world where darkness has far too often been allowed to rule the day. The work of Christmas for us beyond these days is to continue to bear this light into the world so that we can join in finding the lost, healing the broken, feeding the hungry, releasing the prisoner, rebuilding the nations, bringing peace among people, and making music in the heart.

So may we go forth from these Christmas days, not boxing it up for another year or containing it within a few days or weeks of this season, but instead bearing the epiphanies that burst forth into our world through the fullness of our lives, always shining the bright light of Christ into the world each and every day until all things are made new in Jesus Christ our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Light in the Darkness

December 24, 2014 By Andy James

a sermon on Isaiah 9:2-7
preached on Christmas Eve 2014 at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

These are strange days to be talking so much about light. We’ve just journeyed through the shortest day of the year, but there’s plenty of other darkness in our world, too. Turn on the television or radio any day and you can hear it right away—darkness is all around us. Wars and conflicts rage around the world, and there are refugees and displaced persons everywhere who have been forced out of their homes to live in refugee camps for years on end. Violence and injustice keep inching closer and closer to home, not to mention all of the people in need of a warm and dry place to sleep. Those chosen to lead us in so many different places and ways toss about harsh words of blame that ignore the way we all participate in the difficulties of our world and so get in the way of the possibilities of reconciliation and new life. Peace and light just seem far off, dreams surely not to be realized in our lifetime if ever at all. So when Isaiah talks about “the people who walk in darkness,” we have a pretty good idea of what the darkness he might be talking about.

But even amidst all the struggles and pain of our world, we have nonetheless seen a great light. The prophet speaks of three great marks of light shining in his own day: joy rising in the nation as it grows and reflects more and more the fullness of God’s mercy, freedom finding expression and hope as all the marks of oppression and pain are torn away, and the fullness of peace coming as the garments of war are burned up as fuel for the fire of hope.

These great marks of light find their greatest expression in the child born “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” His authority is taking hold to show new and different ways in all the world. He will reign with justice and righteousness “from this time onward and forevermore.” And God’s power and promise will bring all these things to fruition even in those times when it seems so completely impossible and improbable.

In our time, the light comes to us, too. Just as Jesus was born on that Christmas two millennia ago, so Jesus is born anew in us and in our world each year in this celebration. So on this night when we hear the familiar words of Jesus’ birth again, when we wonder with Mary and Joseph about the gift of this newborn Jesus, when we join our voices with the angels to proclaim the birth of a baby who changes the world, when we welcome the presence of God into human flesh as Jesus is born of Mary, when we experience the promise of light shining into the darkest corners of our world, we see the light coming to us.

But we cannot simply sit still—we must respond. How are we to live now that we are people who have walked in darkness but now seen a great light? This light shines so brightly that it not only illumines our lives but also guides us as we seek the transformation and renewal of all things and energizes us as we seek the peace and wholeness that can come only from the Prince of Peace. This light shines forth from the strange event we celebrate tonight. Writer and radio host Krista Tippett reminds us well of the mystery and wonder of this night:

There is something audacious and mysterious and reality-affirming in the assertion that has stayed alive for two thousand years that God took on eyes and ears and hands and feet, hunger and tears and laughter and the flu, joy and pain and gratitude and our terrible, redemptive human need for each other.

In the midst of all that troubles us and our world, Christmas shows us that God’s light shines through in the way that God comes to know our human condition so very personally and then seeks to transform it. And this light shines forth when we carry the light that we have shared in this gathering tonight into our lives, honoring the humanity of all as Jesus did in his life and ministry and working for justice, peace, and reconciliation in every corner of our world.

Who better can share the light of life than people who have known darkness all too well? Who better knows the depth of struggle that must be addressed in our world than the people who have faced it directly and emerged to bear even greater light? Who better to make God’s presence real in the everyday than the very people like us who have seen him here, who have shared this great feast and been fed in this holy meal? Who better than us to help bring God’s light into the darkness? And if we don’t join in this work, who will?

So as we go forth from this Christmas Eve, as we bear the light of this night into the darkness and uncertainty of our world, may God strengthen us to shine this light in the darkness each and every day until it shines so brightly that all things are made new in Jesus Christ our Lord. Thanks be to God! Amen.