Author: Pastor Aleese Kenitzer

Christmas is almost here! In five days we’ll gather to hear the story of Christ’s birth, sing carols, light our candles while singing Silent Night, and receive the holy sacrament of Christ’s body and blood. 

But that’s in five days. And not until the evening of December 24. 

At Shepherd, we’re intentionally marking the last Sunday of Advent during our typical Sunday morning (9:00 am) worship service. Together, we’ll keep vigil for the coming of Emmanuel – waiting, watching, praying, and singing songs of hope for the coming of God’s Kingdom among us. To embody that waiting, we will not celebrate communion at our morning service. Rest assured: to refrain from the sacrament in the morning was not simply a decision for convenience and simplicity. Instead, it’s a discipline as we wait to receive Christ’s presence in his birth, and in the sacrament of communion during our Christmas service. 

Then, after keeping watch in the morning, we’ll return for Christmas Eve worship. It may seem strange to be in two different seasons of the church year on the same day. But the truth is that “technically” the season of Christmas does not begin until Christmas Day. But following the tradition of Shepherd, together we’ll fully enter into the Christmas season on Christmas Eve as we hear the angels herald the shepherds in the fields. 

So though it might seem strange to consider coming to worship twice this coming Sunday, I encourage you to do so. Come in the morning to prepare yourself for the coming of God’s light into our weariness and into our darkness. And then, come back in the evening as we celebrate Jesus Christ – the Light of the world – who takes on flesh for you.

This past Sunday we sang the beloved Advent carol, “Comfort, Comfort, Now My People.” It’s a hymn based on our Old Testament reading from Sunday, Isaiah 40:1-11. As the prophet Isaiah heralds the Israelite people, he brings them good news that their exile away from their homeland is finally over. God, in God’s faithfulness, is going to deliver them! God is going to save them! God is going to rescue them, just as God had done before for their ancestors in their exodus from Egypt. 

But first, the people are given a job by Isaiah: they are to be the road construction crew, working to ensure that the pathway for God to come to them would be a smooth one. 

It’s a joke in WI that there are two seasons of the year: winter and road construction season. Having lived in IA as long as I have now, I’d say the same is true here as well. We all know what a mess road construction makes. But the point of it is to create safer pathways, to repair holes, and to fill in spots where holes have developed. 

In the same way, Isaiah urges the Israelite people to take up this work. Since the beginning of the book, the prophet has made it abundantly clear that they had been putting up roadblock after roadblock, disconnecting themselves from God, from themselves, from those around them, and from creation. And all those roadblocks, all those obstacles, would need to be torn down for the Israelites to find joy in connection with God once again. 

So as we move into this week, focused on our second sub-theme of finding joy in connection, I urge you to consider the roadblocks that you’ve put up, keeping you from being connected from God, from yourself, from those around you, and from God’s beloved creation. Consider these questions: 

1. What barriers have you erected keeping you from God? Busy-ness? Fear? Independence? Your own agenda/desires?
2. What walls have you built between yourself and others? Apathy? Judgment? Anger? Jealousy? 
3. How have you disconnected yourself from God’s beloved creation? Have you treated it as something disposable? Have you not honored the life-blood from which you came? 

This week, bring your reflections to God in confession. And as an Advent practice, repent of these obstacles: picking up the sledgehammer to make room for God to come to us, once again, or adding a little extra asphalt to fill a hole so that not only you, but all the world might experience joy.

Thankfully, even if our road construction is not complete (let’s face it, road construction is never done, is it?!), our God promises to come to us. That promise has been given. But how smoothly we, and the world, may connect in joy with Christ and with one another? That takes some work from us, too. 

Already, communities are a-buzz with Christmas festivities. Lights are up, trees are decorated, and carols are resounding at concerts. In some ways, it’s as if society has fast-forwarded through the month of December and we’re already at Christmas Eve. 

But in the church, first, we observe Advent – a season that’s easily skipped as we rush toward Christmas. And, a season that is actually more uncomfortable than might meet the eye. Why? Because Advent is a season that forces us to pause. 

Now, “pausing” might sound like a pretty sweet thing in the midst of so many obligations. But think about what happens when we finally stop after having been racing around at a rat’s-race pace, after we finally get that last project done, after all the funeral details are attended to, after we get home from family gatherings, or after we recognize that we’ve been filling our calendars with this-that-and-the-other-thing just to keep busy. What happens when all that stops? Often, everything else that we’ve been pushing to the side creeps to the surface: the restlessness, the uncertainty, the doubt, the questions, the weariness. Basically, everything that we try to keep suppressed with a “happy face.” 

Which, I get it, none of that is “fun” to face head-on. So when we think about a season that forces us to pause, and to wait, this season of Advent can actually be very, very uncomfortable because it pushes us to acknowledge things that we’ve been pushing aside for far too long. 

But at the same time that Advent pushes us to recognize these harsh realities, the space and silence of waiting also prompts us to pay attention to something else as well: to watch, and to wait, for what God is doing (even in our weariness) to transform us, preparing us to receive God’s promises with joy. In our Gospel lesson this past Sunday, we heard that Zechariah was forced into this period of silence after he was deemed mute by the angel Gabriel. Which, in many respects, might seem like a punishment. But in light of what silence has the capacity to do: 1) to acknowledge what is going on within us and around us, and 2) to watch, and to wait, for what God is already doing, I wonder if the time of silence that Zechariah experienced was actually given as a gift. 

So in the coming weeks of Advent, my encouragement to you is to carve out space. And, to make time for silence. That silence will likely be uncomfortable at first. But, that silence has the potential to be a gift for you as it challenges you to acknowledge where you’re at, and as it transforms you to receive with joy a promise that, though it might seem too good to be true, is God’s very promise for you. 

After celebrating Thanksgiving last week, in short order our attention will turn to the Advent season beginning Sunday, December 3. 

At Shepherd this year, our Advent focus will zero in on the first two chapters of the Gospel of Luke. We’ll hear the stories of the angel appearing to Zechariah in the temple, Mary visiting Elizabeth, and the birth of John the Baptist before hearing again the timeless story of Christ’s advent (aka: Christ’s coming) into the world in a stable outside Bethlehem. 

In each of these stories, we’ll witness the full scope of human emotion: isolation, fear, disbelief, as well as connection, trust, and joy. All of these emotions are emotions that we, too, have experienced. And, as we experience the holiday season once again, it very well may be that we experience several of these emotions – all at once. 

So honoring the complexity of the stories that we will hear, and honoring our own stories of faith and life, this Advent season we’re going to intentionally hold joy and weariness together. The two might seem to be polar opposites. And yet, we’ll find that the two belong together as we acknowledge our weariness, and the weariness of the world, and as we practice rejoicing. 

So this season, join us: as we seek a “thrill of hope” in our hurting world; as we welcome joy – even and especially if, like the prophet Isaiah, we cry out for comfort (Isaiah 40:1); and as we discover the multitude of ways to rejoice, even amid our weary world. 

As we look to the coming Thanksgiving holiday, some families might bring out special dishes for the occasion. For years, I’ve had fine china from my Grandma Kenitzer stored in a hutch. Occasionally, a few pieces of silverware will come out when I need a few extra place settings. But on the whole, that fine china is just sitting there, collecting dust. 

In contrast to my use of china, my Grandma Gilray would routinely use her china. Just about every Sunday, as a family, we’d have dinner together after church. And during those meals, even when it wasn’t a holiday, it would be my brother’s and my job to get the table set with her fine china. 

Grandma chose to use her china, even though it was valuable. She chose to share it, and she chose to entrust it into the hands of young grandchildren (even at 4-years-old!). 

Much in the same way, God has also entrusted us with something quite valuable. Yes, our time, our treasures, and our talents. But even more so, God has given us the valuable gift of God’s grace, God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, and the mission of Christ in the world today. 

It’s ridiculous for God to trust us with such gifts. Just as much as my brother and I were bound to chip one of Grandma’s dishes, we’re bound to abuse God’s grace. And, we’re bound to fall short of doing – and being – what God intends us to be as we carry on the mission of Christ in the world. And yet, God lavishly entrusts us with these gifts. 

So this Thanksgiving, whether you use your everyday dishes, fancy china, or even paper plates, give thanks for the incredible, enormous gift of Christ’s love, mercy, and grace that’s been graciously given to you – something that unites you with all the family of Jesus in joy. And having received that gift, receive the incredible, enormous call to be an ambassador of Christ and Christ’s mission in the world. For the china that we’ve received from God isn’t meant to sit on a shelf. It’s meant to be used, and shared…with joy. 

This past Sunday, as we began our worship, I referenced a phrase from St. Bernard of Clairvaux who spoke of “three Advents.” It might seem strange to think of three Advents; Advent only comes once a year! But, in the words of St. Bernard, these three advents refer to very distinctive “advents” (or, “comings”) of Christ:

1. First, we anticipate the incarnation of Christ (aka: the coming of God through Emmanuel, God with us) at Christmas. 
2. And last, we look in hope for the coming (aka: the “advent”) of Christ at the end of the age. 
3. And in between these “advents,” St. Bernard asserts that we are to keep alert for the everyday arrival of Jesus: the knock at the door, or the still small voice, or the weary refugee, or the encounter with Christ through one another, through the Word, or through the sacrament. 

Truth is, even as we look back to the time when Christ came, and even as we look ahead to the time when Christ will come, we also profess that Christ is coming to us now. Logically, in the span of time, it doesn’t make sense. And yet, this is the mystery of faith: the very mystery that we profess as we join in our communion liturgy as we give thanks for Christ’s death and resurrection, as we plead for Christ’s coming again, and as we partake of Christ’s body and blood within the sacrament. 

So this week, as we inch closer and closer to the season of Advent in the church year, I invite you to consider: Where have you already encountered Christ’s coming to you? How have you experienced Christ’s presence in your everyday life? Give thanks for Christ’s advent in your life, and within the world. And then, pray for Christ to come again into your life, into our congregation, into the greater church, and into the world. Consider imagining a specific situation, place, or group of people and imagine Christ coming to that space. Ask God to come and fill that space with Christ’s presence, and ask Christ to come and fill you. 

As many of you likely learned early on, we do believe that God is always with us. But an invitation for Christ to come, and to take up residence within us, and within our world, never hurts anything. So ask, and keep alert, this week. For Christ is coming.