Dec. 6 sermon by Garrett

“The word of God came to John in the Wilderness.”

I am preaching this text in light of the horrible events that we witnessed this past week in San Bernardino, Ca. For so many there, life is a total Wilderness. And it is our prayer that, there in the midst of it all, God’s Word, and God’s presence would visit their communities.

A Word in the Wilderness of suffering and confusion.

And here’s the challenge for us on the other side of the country. To allow ourselves to enter into our own Wildernesses as best as we can, so that we can join arms with our sisters and brothers there, and collectively wait for God to come and fill us with his peace.

Entering our own wildernesses in the hopes that God’s word might come to us.

It’s really what Advent is about isn’t it: God showing up in the pain and confusion of our world.

The wilderness, in the idiom of the Bible, is exactly what you would expect. It’s dreadful, primitive, and without any of the comforts of civilization. Alas, there are no Bed and Breakfast’s there. No Wilderness Spas to check in to.

“Everything is going to be okay,” is not a phrase causally used in the Wilderness.

Think back to the Old Testament: The wilderness is that place where Israel wandered for 40 years; and its that place where they grumbled for entire time. “Anything is better than this: we’ll go back to Egypt, and lay bricks for the Pharaoh. At least back there we know what we are doing. We have a job; life made sense there.”

The wilderness is a place of vulnerability.

It’s a place that doesn’t make immediate sense to us.

One of the most troubling things to me about the California tragedy is how quick people have been to try and make sense of it all. I read this morning on the front page of the NY Times how this issue is going to change the landscape of the Presidential election.

A bunch of politicians using a tragedy to advance their own platform.

But as Christians we have a different story. We cannot rush too quickly to try and make sense of things. Advent is a season that challenges us to wait on God to show up. To relax our words, and to wait for God’s Word. To give space for God to give us a fresh Word.

This last week I had a conversation with a young man, maybe 20 or so, named Evan who is a new father. Evan had been dating a girl for 2 months, until he decided to break things off with her. 2 weeks later she texts him and says they need to talk. He knows it’s serious. And it is. She is pregnant.

Evan then went on to tell me about weeping there in the car with her. He wasn’t sure he wanted the baby, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her. He is speechless. After going back and forth, she makes the decision that she is keeping it. Evan now has to get a full-time job and figure out how he’s going to make it work. For about an hour this week I sat with this guy who could hardly stop from grinning. He showed me picture after picture of his baby girl Skylar.

An icon of Advent if I’ve ever come across one: new life given in the wilderness of confusion and pain; a baby transforming despair into joy.

“The word of God came to Evan in the Wilderness.”

I was in the 8th grade when my best friend John Hicks was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. John was the absolute most amazing guy at Oak Mountain Middle School, and he was my P.I.C. My partner in crime. I remember John walking in to basketball practice with a shaved head, preempting the chemo. I still remember the drill we were doing, and I still remember the pit in my stomach. My entire team cried. And two nights later John had the clippers out and was shaving all of our heads. Our mascot was the Eagles, but that year we were the Bald Eagles. We ended up going undefeated and winning the Metro Championship. But it isn’t what I remember most about the year. What I remember most is how a bunch of 8th grade jocks otherwise convinced of their immortality learned about human vulnerability and learned how to share their fear with one another. We even prayed together. It was one of the best years of my life.

The word of God came to the Oak Mountain (bald) Eagles in the wilderness.

And I have seen it here at St. Paul’s. 2 small examples. Lydia’s Circle: a group of ladies who offer a spread of delectables and English tea to those who are grieving. And in this service you will see us commission a Lay Eucharistic Visitor, Beth, to go to the home of someone who cannot make it to church. That's okay, she will take church to them. I don’t know who she is visiting but there is a good chance that it’s someone who is feeling their vulnerability in a very acute way. “The Body of Christ, the bread of Heaven.”

The Word in the Wilderness here at St. Paul’s.

Friends, the Word always comes to us in the Wilderness. No matter where we are, we can trust God to come and find us.

I know this to be true.

And the challenge of Advent is to let ourselves feel our vulnerabilities a little bit more than usual. For some of us, that’s easy: life and loss have left us hobbled.

For others of us, it may take a bit more intentionality. We may need to think about some of the ways in which we are trying to avoid our own vulnerability. Maybe we’ve convinced ourselves that we don’t need others; that we don’t need God. Needing others, needing God is scary business. And so maybe we need to work on needing others.

I'm not saying that we ought to revel in our infirmities for their own sake. Rather it's that we take a little inner inventory so that we might have a sense of where to expect God to show up.

When we heed John’s call into the wilderness, we encounter God.

And let me say, its not always clear how and when the Word comes. And I wish I could say how God is going to transform the madness that is the Wilderness of San Bernardino. And in some ways it's not my place to speak into their wilderness. It is theirs, and we have to leave it to people there to find the Word given. It will be them who will work out their own story and discern the ways in which, despite all the wreckage, they are being held. It may happen in the near future for them, that would be our hope, but it may take a life time.

But all we can do is join with them, opening our own vulnerabilities, and trusting that the God whose word came to John in the wilderness, is the same God who promises to come to us all.

Amen.