God comes to us

The first reading is Deuteronomy 6:1-9.

The holy gospel according to Luke (2:8-14).

⁸In that region there were shepherds living in the fields,

       keeping watch over their flock by night.

       ⁹Then an angel of the Lord stood before them,

              and the glory of the Lord shone around them,

                     and they were terrified.

       ¹⁰But the angel said to them,

              “Do not be afraid;

                     for see—

                            I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people:

                                   ¹¹to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior,

                                          who is the Messiah,

                                          the Lord.

                     ¹²This will be a sign for you:

                            you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth

                                   and lying in a manger.”

       ¹³And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,

              praising God and saying,

                     ¹⁴“Glory to God in the highest heaven,

                            and on earth peace among those whom God favors!”

The gospel of the lord.

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What a day for these readings.  Over the last couple of months, I have enjoyed hearing about your favorite passages and verses from the Bible.  I have also been pleasantly surprised by the ways different passages work together.  The “shema,” the Hebrew word for hear, from verse 4 in Deuteronomy fits so well with today as we will spend today and the coming weeks continuing to make meaning out of our time together at Christ the King. 

Will we recite stories to our children from our time together—the bingo and silent auction fundraiser that raised money, yes, but more than that, it brought our community and friends of our congregation together to enjoy each other’s company and to support our youth.

When we are at home, will we talk about the homes comforted by Project Linus blankets, by children’s books donated to Family Promise, or beautiful images now covering abandoned buildings in Detroit? 

When we are away, will we tell people of the community of faith that gathered each week to worship the God of love and grace, to receive holy communion and be drowned in the waters of baptism?

How will we wear our faith, bound as a sign on our hands?  How will we do God’s work with those same hands? 

How will the sign of the cross, fixed as an emblem on our foreheads at our baptisms, shine for all to see?  Will our doorposts and gates be filled with words of welcome and hospitality learned and practiced so deeply here?

Will we “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone”?

What will we do as we go from here?  More importantly, though, the question I ask myself is what will God do?  Where will God be as we leave here?  How will God be present to me and to us?

And I think of the shepherds, perhaps wondering where God was in the loneliness of a night filled with sheep, or wondering at God in the stars scattered across the sky.  Because when God comes to us, and to the shepherds, in Jesus, God does the same thing that God has been doing throughout our whole human history.  God chooses once again to come to us in a new way.  God chooses to become us—to take on all of our human-ness and be with us in this new way—in Jesus the Christ.

God did it in the beginning, too.  God began with wind and spirit—Ruah, she was called.  Then God walked with Adam and Eve, the first humans, and when they left the garden, God was still with them.  God encountered Sarah and Abraham as strangers and angels, receiving hospitality.

As the Hebrews cried out in Egypt, God heard them, and came to Moses in a burning bush.  God brought the Hebrews out from captivity.  God led them in pillars of cloud by day and fire by night.

Throughout all of history, God has come to humans, to be with us and love us, to bring us to our best selves, to guide us in community, in service, and in justice.  To crowd us around a manger, a Table, a cross, and an empty tomb.

In all of these times that God comes to us, God comes with signs.  From pillars of cloud and fire to staffs that turn into serpents.  The prophets always have a sign that supports their claims against injustice.  What are our signs these days?  For the shepherds, the sign was a baby wrapped in scraps of cloth, lying in a feeding trough.  What are your signs of God’s presence with us?

As we go from here, God is coming to us again.  Not in cloud and fire, necessarily, but in love, in memories, and in new opportunities for community. 

Many of you have talked about finding a new faith community that is a small community, like Christ the King.  While I can fairly easily assure you that none will be quite as small as Christ the King, will your sign in a new community be as simple as a friendly face, a warm welcome?  Will that be enough?

Or will your sign of God’s presence come as you read the Bible, reading for whose voice is left out, reading for the questions that arise?  Will God’s presence come in continued gatherings—for fellowship or Project Linus?

How will you encounter God?  How will God encounter you?  Will a new faith community write itself on your heart?  Will Project Linus carry you forward into the unknown?  How will God yet again encounter you in a new way?

There are signs of God’s presence all around us.  I’m not always open to seeing them, but when I pay attention, I see God in the new life of babies.  I see God in the way the Wasatch Mountains climb into the sky, majestic and powerful.  I experience God in the hugs of friends and the late night conversations, solving the world’s problems with the optimism only found late at night in our God of hope.  The man I pass each week on my way to the Pride Center, who stands by Dunkin’ Donuts with a sign asking for money.  He is a sign of God’s presence for me as we greet each other with a familiarity built up over weekly encounters throughout this year.

One of my favorite quotes from the movie August Rush, a movie about the power of music, is, “Listen. Can you hear it? The music. I can hear it everywhere. In the wind… in the air… in the light. It’s all around us. All you have to do is open yourself up. All you have to do … is listen.”  That’s how I feel about signs of God’s presence.  They are everywhere—in the wind, in the air, in the light and the dark.  All you have to do … is listen, look, open yourself.  God is all around.

Thanks be to God.