My favorite way to start a sermon is with a song. Let’s see if you know this one, it’s a little more recent than the one I used last Sunday. “Me and all my friends / We’re all misunderstood / They say we stand for nothing and / There’s no way we ever could / Now we see everything that’s going wrong / With the world and those who lead it / We just feel like we don’t have the means / To rise above and beat it / So we keep waiting / Waiting on the world to change.”
Yes, you can add John Mayer to your Advent playlist because this season is all about waiting. John Mayer isn’t the only one waiting for the world to be different. John the Baptist says, “Prepare the way for the Lord’s coming!” He’s looking forward to something that has not happened yet. He’s looking forward with anticipation and excitement to the moment when God breaks onto the scene in the coming of Jesus.
I remember when Rachel was pregnant with Ella, people would ask, “Are you ready?” And I would say something like, “I hope so” or “As ready as we can be.” Those of you who had kids would just smile knowing there’s no way to really prepare and anticipate how your life is going to be different when you have a child.
Maybe it’s because I inherited my mother’s inclination to worry, but anytime someone asks if I’m ready, it’s like my anxiety pops up to the surface like the cork on a fishing line.
It can be Saturday, and I have a sermon all typed up (between 1,500 to 1,800 words) and it can one that has transitions and flows. But if someone asks, “Are you ready?” All the wind gets knocked out of my sails. I start wondering if anyone is going to recognize that song. I worry that no one is going to get my joke. And I just become scared that what I have prepared is not good enough.
You’re not looking at me like I’m crazy, so you’ve also realized that question, “Are you ready?” has the potential to undo us, to put us in a panic, and to make us scramble for whatever it is we think we need. The question, “Are you ready?” can make us fear that there’s not enough time or that whatever we do just won’t be good enough.
Advent is a season that tells us to wait, and it forces us to reflect on the fact that we’re not good at waiting. Let’s face it: we have to wait for things all the time—wait for school to get out, wait for the car to get fixed, wait on her to say “Yes,” wait for baby to arrive, wait to retire, wait to see the doctor . . .
Jeff Goins wrote a book called The In-Between and the point he makes is that we tend to rush through life looking for the next big thing, but most of life is lived in-between the major moments of our lives. Life is full of waiting. And you know what? Waiting is okay. It’s good to have to wait for some things.
And you’ve been waiting for me to get to the point and you’re hoping there’s good news in it for you. This Sunday is about the messengers, the prophets who preach repentance to prepare the way for our salvation. John the Baptist comes out of nowhere and preaches repentance and he says, “Someone else is coming.”
The Baptist tells the people to “bear good fruit.” Your first thought when you hear this is that you have to get it together and start working so you earn your place. Please hear this: Fruit comes about by the Spirit, from God working in us—not from us climbing up to God. Because the amazing thing is, God has come down to us. You don’t work to bring about the kingdom, Jesus brings the kingdom to you.
One of the things I never understood about English history was why the Puritans destroyed some stained-glass windows. Historians say they did that because of the iconoclastic imagery, which some thought was idolatry. I dug into this and found out that, theologically, they did that because those stained-glass windows showed Jesus as judge—and it was terrifying. People would walk out of a service and instead of taking home the message that they are loved and forgiven, they saw a terrifying image. So the first generation of Reformers destroyed those stained-glass windows because they wanted to flip that image on it’s head.
And it does sound scary when we hear the Baptist say the “winnowing fork is in his hands” and he will burn the chaff “with unquenchable fire.” We know the way the Baptist uses fire here is as a symbol of judgement. And it sounds like this is that “turn or burn” message. But is it?
If you’ve been on Facebook this week, you’ve probably seen the return of the Elf on the Shelf. If you don’t know about the elf, there’s a popular children’s book that says Santa sends elves to help him keep an eye on everyone. It takes the line from the song “he knows if you’ve been bad or good” and runs with it. These elves serve as spies and report to Santa if a kid does something wrong. Some elementary teachers have these elves in their room with an ornament that says “camera” on it—to drive home the idea that they are always being watched.
That sounds like the judgement some of you associate with God. Some of you grew up thinking about God as an accountant in the sky, keeping track of all the good and bad things you did.
But it’s almost Christmas, so remember this—any gift premised on deserving is not much of a gift at all. Jesus represents pure gift. We don’t become worthy of Jesus. We don’t earn salvation by getting ourselves right. Salvation is a gift.
In the late 4th century, a British monk named Pelagius thought perfection was achievable. He thought our free-will meant we could choose to always obey God, and we could choose to be good enough to deserve to actually get into heaven. Here’s some church history and theology for you: Pelagius and Augustine had this huge debate where Augustine said, “That’s not right. There’s nothing we can do. We are completely sinful. We are only saved by grace.”
Before Augustine became the most influential thinker in Christian history, he was a womanizer. He had this prayer he would pray: “God make me chaste (pure) but not yet.” He was well-aware of his own sinful nature. He looked around and saw that everyone was flawed. So to make a long story short, there was a church council and Pelagius lost.
I tell you that because the early church said Pelagianism is a heresy, but you see it everywhere. Full-on Pelagianism is when you believe it’s all up to you to get yourself right. God has told you what to do, and he’s given you free-will, so go and do it, then you’ll get into heaven. That is full Pelagianism. Semi-Pelagianism is “you do your part and God does his.” It’s this just do your best and God will handle the rest. That’s Semi-Pelagianism. And Christianity says God does everything for you to be saved.
Do you remember the story in Ezekiel, the valley of the dry bones? You are the dry bones The Spirit of God comes and gives life to that which was dead. God saves you. He creates life where there was none. He has done what needs to be done.
But what the Baptist didn’t know, what he didn’t see coming, was that the fire—the judgement—fell on Jesus. He became chaff for us so we might be made wheat and gathered into the granary of eternal life. He makes you right by what he did for you. And this is good news because many of us had lives that looked like a lost cause, headed for judgement where nothing good would happen. But out of nowhere, hope comes. Hope often comes out of things that look dead.
This is so unbelievable that Jesus sees us. He sees our self-absorbed sinfulness and he still loves us. So do you know what that means? It means God, in Christ, delights in you. He knows you. He sees you. He loves you. And because God is for you, you can have joy and hope and peace. It is a miracle that Jesus is for all of us. God, in Jesus, comes to you to save you. God is able to love, save, forgive.
The great surprise in this story is that when Jesus comes, we’re expecting judgement. But what do we get? We get mercy. Because the judgement for our sins, he takes on himself. He takes that judgement to the cross, and he leaves it there.
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