Waiting is a major theme of Advent. We remember that God's people waited for the promise of Messiah. They prayed and waited and waited and prayed until Christ came into the world. Jesus' birth was the fulfillment of God's promise and the waiting came to an end. But after Jesus resurrected and ascended into heaven, a new waiting began.
Now, God's people wait for the return of Christ. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Have you ever been so saddened and burdened by what's happening in the world that you've prayed for Christ to come back soon? If so, you've had a taste of how God's people waited and prayed before.
That's our faith's big-picture waiting. But we also have everyday life prayers we wait for. And learning to wait for Christ's return teaches us how to wait for those more personal promises.
There's a particular detail about Isaac you might miss in Genesis 25. The text says Isaac married Rebekah when he was forty years old. You don't read any details about their marriage or family except for one thing. The text says, "Isaac prayed to the Lord on behalf of his wife, because she was childless" (25:21). Barrenness had multiple interpretations, none of them positive. So, Isaac prayed and God heard.
Rebekah became pregnant and we get a first glimpse at the struggle her children will have later in life. But, notice, after we're told Isaac prayed, after Rebekah questioned her pregnancy and God answered her, the text tells us something else about Isaac. It's the detail we should pay attention to. "Isaac was sixty years old when Rebekah gave birth to them" (25:26).
Potentially, then, Isaac prayed and waited and waited and prayed for twenty years for the answer to his prayer.
Is that something you've had to do? Is that something you think you could do? You may have to. So, whatever you're praying for, waiting to hear from God on, learn to pray and wait with faith and patience.
Our Kelsey Kids came to the front so we could pray with them. That's what we do right before they go to a children's time designed for them. I asked Pam what they were learning today. She said they would hear about God's love. Then she said something about making a gingerbread house.
Well, they did.
And they made it for Gloria and me!
It was a nice gift. I joked about eating it one the way home. But I took the advice of the adults who witnessed how it was made. Let's just say too many hands and winter germs went into the gingerbread construction.
By the time the kids read this and find out I didn't eat it, they'll understand.
I've been thinking a lot about what church would be without church. That is to say, most of us can't imagine being a part of a church without a building to house us.
It almost seems impossible to have a church without a church facility.
And yet many Christians pull it off. Christians have long, long fulfilled the commission to make disciples without buildings. Many still do today. In my recent meandering, I've recognized I'm grateful every congregation I've served had an address. There were many meaningful and holy moments there. At the same time, there was always a struggle to extend our mission away from church. It's as if real ministry can only happen a that holy address.
When I visited other congregations, I began to notice something. A lot of churches love their church buildings. Guess what many of us put on the cover of our weekly bulletins, monthly newsletters and letterhead. Buildings. We even put them on our website and t-shirts. Oh, and don't forget all the pictures we hang in our hallways.
Not that a physical location can't be a blessing. It certainly can be and often is. But it can also be a hindrance. An escape, even. I used to think that constructing a new church building was the apex of ministry. No one ever told me that. It was just too hard to ignore how much we overvalued the effort.
I want to imagine more ministry away from the church so the church can be the church. So we can experience more incarnational ministry in the places where people are. Hebrews reminds its readers others once aligned them with insulted and afflicted people. The Hebrews community once were "partners" with those people. Theirs was a bold ministry because of it.
I suppose what I've been reflecting on is this question. How much do our buildings take us away from that kind of bold ministry?
The incarnation started in a manger. Whether it was at the inn like our Christmas plays illustrate or, more likely, in a room in someone's house, there was an address of some sort. But the incarnation didn't stay there. Does God want us to stay at our holy address?
From time to time, a conversation I had with a 90-year-old saint comes to mind. We had been at a church event one morning. It was one of those kind where everyone shows up. In the midst of the hurry of the event, I sat down to visit for a moment with my friend. We said how good is was to see everyone and that things were looking well. Then he said something I wasn't expecting. He said, "I hope we're actually teaching them about Jesus."
At first, I thought he might be talking about me and my preaching. But, no, he meant us. Me, him and the church. His tone seesawed. He was happy the event was a success. He worried we were merely filling calendars. People seemed to love being a part of their church. But was this a place they actually learned to experience the gospel?
To be sure, my friend wasn't just looking at other people. The last part of our conversation is what stands out to me most. He went on to talk about how he was still changing. There was much he was still learning about Jesus and his love. And that love was still working on him.
Wow!
That saint understood the power God demonstrated through Jesus. But he also knew the work the Holy Spirit was still doing. Even at 90 years old, he recognized where God still needed to transform his heart.
Though we didn't talk about Hebrews, my brother's point is there. Hebrews 10:10 affirms the sacrifice of Jesus that made us a holy people. Yes, you are holy--that's God's design. And Hebrews 10:14 reminds us that holiness is something the Lord continues to flesh out in our lives. The text says Jesus has done a work for "those who are being made holy."
That is, we're holy people and God is making us holier. What my friend recognized, though, was faith wasn't something you stumble upon. It's nothing you graduate from at a certain age. Faith in Jesus is something you continually pursue, even after 90 years.
There's a difference between child-like faith and childish faith. Child-like faith is Jesus centered. This faith forms out of humility, wonder and trust. Childish faith is self centered. It's the image of a child pouting for what they want or because of what they didn't get. No matter our age, either faith is a choice we make. The years you accumulate in church do not automatically equate to holiness and discipleship. You decide what faith you will pursue and nurture.
Jesus once addressed a crowd about the message they heard from John the Baptist. Parenthetically, Luke tells us even tax collectors "acknowledged the justice of God" (7:29). But the Pharisees and other religious teachers "rejected God's purpose for themselves"(7:30). Jesus responded by offering an illustration. What were the "people of this generation" like? They were like children playing in the marketplace. Now, they weren't having fun. Instead, they complained because they couldn't make people play by their rules.
Remember the kid growing up who changed the rules when he was losing? Jesus may have used one of Aesop's fables to accuse the religious leaders of being that kid. They criticized John the Baptist for "eating no bread and drinking no wine." That must mean you're supposed to be eating and drinking. But Jesus ate and drank, and they called him a "glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!"
Do this, but not like that. Don't do that, but why didn't you?
It's pointless to try to play by their rules. No matter what you do, they're going to pout about it.
Thankfully, God's wisdom doesn't play by religious rules. That's good because many of them are silly. Even today.
Jesus says, "wisdom is vindicated by all her children." That is, as we pursue a child-like faith, accepting God's purpose through Christ, we'll stop playing selfish games. We'll find our center more in God's grace. We'll discover the joy of God's kingdom as we welcome those otherwise pushed aside. Today's religious people might call us out for not following their ever-changing rules. But Jesus tells us "the least in the kingdom of God is greater" than even John the Baptist.