ADVENT 4

Is Anything Too Wonderful For the Lord

A Sermon inspired by William Willemon – Duke Chapel - 1997

Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?

A couple of thousand years ago there was this writer named Luke who certainly thought that nothing was. Each of the gospel writers has their own slant on what was happening. Matthew for example sets the context in terms of making sure we understand that Jesus is descended from King David. John wants to begin by telling us that Jesus is and always has been related to God.
Luke uses historical information to set Jesus’ birth in political time – Jesus was born when Herod the Great was King of Judea and Augustus was Emperor. This is not just any political situation; but a violent time of constant insurrection, of torture and foreign rule.

But what Luke really wants us to see, is that this is a story of the imagination. Imagine what it would be like if God visited us? Imagine what it would be like to be caught up in the story of God’s creation of all of this that surrounds us. Imagine what it means that Angels are always asking “is anything too wonderful for the Lord?”

But here is the thing about us. We are becoming less and less imaginative all the time. We live in a world that is more and more concerned with facts, with data, all of the time. Even our entertainment has become more about “reality” and less about imagining things to be different.

Can you imagine what we are giving up if we limit the world to that of what we can actually touch, taste, or feel? If everything becomes about facts and figures how limited are we becoming?

And so we have no real way of contending with the imaginative writing of the Bible. What are we to do with all the writings that speak of extraordinary events, supernatural occurrences, and unexpected things?

We say we are suspicious of claims of Christmas angels, expectant virgins, and songs in the night because we are rational, analytical, sceptical, people. But I’m wondering if it’s more truthful to say that we are limited.

So – here is the question. What unexpected thing could happen this Christmas to remind you?
I’m sure some of you have heard this story; but a couple of years ago we went to Kings Landing for Christmas Dinner. It was getting closer to Christmas – but it sure didn’t feel like it. Emily was just wee and we were still experiencing sleepless nights and still filled with the worries of being new parents. Plus evening was stressful, trying to convince a 9 month old that King’s Landing Christmas dinner was the perfect place to be – she wasn’t convinced. There wasn’t a flake of snow to be found and it certainly didn’t feel like Christmas at all.

But we went; and we ate; and it was wonderful in the Inn all decorated with popcorn strings and cranberries lit by candlelight. Finally, it was time to go – our Christmas spirit a bit revived we stepped out into the night... and there was snow. Magically, unexpectedly, the snow had been falling the whole time we were there and all of a sudden it WAS Christmas.

The imaginative part of me was sure that God had restored our souls.

“Faith,” says theologian James Whitehead, “is the enduring ability to imagine life in a certain way.”

I love that. What did Luke imagine life was like when he told the story of Jesus birth? What are we supposed to think Mary is imagining while the Angel Gabriel is whispering in her ear?
In our world, poor, unmarried moms and their babies face bleak prospects. The December heavens seem dark and silent. Christmas carols arrive via FM radio, not by angels. And God seems to be safely aloof from the world.

But here in church, in December, our otherwise week imaginations get strengthened, stoked, poetically pushed by rich stories. Advent is meant to be a time when our stories fill us with metaphors, enrich our thought, broaden the possibilities of what can and can’t be.

They make it possible to imagine, to believe that God just might be at work in the dark and humble stables around the world this week. (pause)

Losing some of that openness to the unexplained is probably the worst thing about growing up. Far too many adults get jaded, stop believing in Santa, and get caught up with facts.

But children, man, Christmas are so different for them. It isn’t because children are ignorant or haven’t yet got clear in their young brains what is “real” and what is not. It’s because children are not yet confined within the narrow restraints of officially sanctioned “reality.” For them, the world is a backdrop for their imagination, a stage on which they can be queens or kings, if they have a towel to drape as a royal robe over their shoulders. They are Mario Andretti if someone will loan them a cardboard box.

If you are a child – the world still has room for wonder. (Remember Jesus once cautioned us that to ‘get’ God we had to become like little children) Everything — a box, a towel, another person — is packed with possibility.

I’m saying all this because I expect that there are a number of you here this morning who are asking yourself questions like, Will my cancer heal? Will this Christmas be a time to be vividly reminded of the painful divisions within my own family, or might it be a time to heal those divisions? You’ve got some difficult decision to make which is on hold until after the holidays. There is a change which you need to make in your life but that move is so risky, so tough, you are paralyzed by fear.

People tell you to “face facts,” but you wonder. People reassure you, “This is the only thing that can be done,” but you’re not sure. A poor woman named Mary breaks into song. A baby cries in the barn out back. Herod the King gets nervous.

Imagine, a whole new world. Imagine, tomorrow not closed but open to the in breaking of a living God. Imagine your life caught up in something bigger than you. Imagine.

Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?