Norah, the youngest grandchild, has
turned out to be the most adventurous of the grandchildren around the ripe old
age of a little over 18 months. This
child has not learned or earned the sense of fear. Braving all sorts of possible pain and
injury, this little spitball has increased the anxiety in her parents and
grandparents as she stalks her next daring adventure . . . adventure like
climbing the barstool, hopping onto the kitchen counter, and proceeding to
stroll around . . . climbing up the stairs unbeknownst to anyone else and then
getting to the top only to yell down to everyone else about her
accomplishment. Yes, little Norah is a
daredevil in which nothing is off-limits to her daringness.
But, she is a little over a
year-and-a-half year old. Whether she
wants to accept it or not, children at this age are not the most graceful . . .
they stumble, they fall, they run into things, and they are just plain old
clumsy . . . and, they get hurt. This,
too, comes with Norah.
On my last visit to Helena, Norah fell
and did a faceplant on the carpet. A
sudden eruption of tears and screaming came next. Being a good grandparent, I jumped up and
scooped her into my arms to begin consoling her; but, she wasn’t having any of
it. Instead she ramped up her wailing
and called out for “Momma!” As soon as
“Momma” came and took her, the crying slowed to a whimper, and life was good
once again.
Of course, this broke my heart that I
was unable to console my granddaughter in her moment of trauma. Yet the behavior that Norah displayed in
wanting “Momma” is natural and normal.
We all do it. We look for the
familiar to find comfort in our times of fear, pain, and need. We look for that assurance that the familiar
brings to us. That was exactly what
Norah was looking for and needed. We all
do.
As we begin the season of Advent and our
journey to the celebration of Christmas, it seems a little strange that our
scripture reading this morning has Jesus painting such a scary picture as the
end of time. An apocalyptic image. Jesus states: “There will be signs in the sun,
moon and stars. On the earth, nations
will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea. Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of
what is coming on the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.”
Those are scary words to kick off this
season of Advent as we are preparing for the birth of the child. They are not words that fit our mood or
thoughts as we begin this journey towards the town of Bethlehem and the promise
of God. They are frightening words that
conjure up images we would rather not even think about. No, we would rather think back on that first
Christmas, and not ahead to that fateful day of Jesus’ return. Yet, we need to remember that Advent is a
season of expecting the Christ to come . . . a three-tier expectation . . . as the
followers of Jesus we anticipate the coming of Christ from three different
perspectives--in the flesh at Bethlehem, in our hearts daily, and in the glory
at the end of time. Together these three
anticipations make up the whole of the Advent season. And, as much we revel in the baby Jesus, we
need to be reminded of the reality . . . things are eventually going to get out
of control and be scary. Or as they say
in Alcoholics Anonymous, “Poop happens!”
When it hits the fan . . . well, most of
us hope that we are not in the room. We
hope that when that day comes it will miss us.
That all this scary stuff will pass us by and we will miss it all. At least that is the illusion we
nurture. But we are reminded in our
reading this morning that the day will come . . . and, that it could happen to
any one of us, but will strike us all.
It will pull us all into the darkness of Jesus’ words.
And, how will we react? How will we respond in this time of
chaos? What will we do?
Panic sounds like a good start.
A little wailing and crying sounds good
too.
I can picture myself doing as my
granddaughter does when she falls and hurts herself . . . being scared, not
sure what is happening, and hurting . . . I’m going to scream out my lungs and
let the tears fly. That is the
implication that Jesus alludes to as he speaks his dark words of apocalypse . .
. people are going to be frightened, scared senseless. Jesus expects this, which does not make for
much “good news”. Yet, at the same time,
Jesus also expects those who are his followers to do something else in this
time of panic . . . he expects them to look for the familiar . . . to look for
that familiar face.
Of course, that face is the face of
Jesus. Jesus states: “At
that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great
glory.” When these end times
come, Jesus wants those who follow him to look up from all the chaos and panic
. . . to look up and see him. He tells
them, “When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your
heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” In this we will find the familiar . . . the
familiar that brings comfort in our times of fear, pain, and need. We find the assurance that the familiar
brings to us.
In our darkest times . . . in those
times when we feel lost . . . when we are frightened . . . we all reach out and
look for the familiar . . . that which we know.
We do so because we know that if we can just ground ourselves in that
which we know and trust, we can get through anything. Jesus tells his followers, in this passage,
that these are “signs” that point to the end time and his second coming. “Signs” just like we see as spring begins to
encroach on winter . . . when the trees begin to bud, and we know that summer
cannot be too far off. The “best” is yet
to come, we just need to make it through the tough and scary times. Sort of liking making it through the nine
months of winter in Montana. For the
followers of Jesus, it is possible through the familiar . . . the familiar face
of Jesus. He tells us that this morning.
I like what Jesus is saying in our
reading this morning. I like how he
grounds us in our times of fear and chaos . . . grounds us in the
familiar. In this season of Advent, as we
begin this journey, we do anticipate the coming of Jesus . . . yesterday,
today, and tomorrow. We celebrate his
presence in the child delivered . . . we hope for him in the one who is yet to
come . . . and, we work on him coming into our hearts right here and now.
Thus, it is that we are to do exactly as
he says. We are to lift our eyes and
look. To look at the world around us in
all its good and bad to find that familiar face . . . that face of Jesus. To find that familiar face in the world
around us because he is there. He is
there waiting to be acknowledged . . . in the good . . . in the bad . . . in
the scary . . . he is there. He is there
to keep us calm, to keep us safe, to be our constant companion on this journey
of faith through the season of Advent and beyond. I believe that those are good directions for
beginning this season of Advent.
And, that, is good news. Amen.
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