Prepare Him Room, Part Two

Luke 3:1-11
Second Sunday of Advent 

First of all, heartfelt apologies to Judy for the start of that Scripture lesson.  My advice to any liturgist is: “Just go with it.  They don’t know how to pronounce those names either.”  

Frankly, I came pretty close, for the sake of my friend Judy, to leaving out the first verse entirely.  But then I thought: there’s a reason why Luke put it in there; a reason that matters.  It matters because this is history.  This event is date-stamped by the reigns of Tiberius, Pilate, Herod, Philip, and Lysanias (whoever that is).  We need to know that, at the moment in history when Annas and Caiaphas were priests in the Temple, John was out in the wilderness.  

The names themselves are hard to pronounce and don’t mean much to us; what matters is that it makes this is a true story.  There is no “once upon a time” here.  You might make allegory of other parts of the Bible, but not our reading today.  This is no parable.  This is no fable.  This happened.  It happened for a reason.  And it’s a reason we need to remember at this point in our history as well.  

Advent is, of course, about preparation.  There is an irony for me this year: in that I wasn’t exactly prepared for Advent this year.  If you think about it, what is the most iconic symbol of the Advent season?  Even more symbolic than the symbols of Christmas like trees and carols, the central symbol of Advent is candles, right?  The choir even sang a song about Advent candles last Sunday.  Hopefully, as we sang that song, you didn’t notice the sad state of our candles last week.  Because it wasn’t until the day before—last Saturday when we were decorating—that I realized we had no fresh, unused Advent candles.  So while you were decorating, I was calling around frantically to every store in the vicinity that I thought might have them; and got nothing. I got a lot of: “Wow, we’re getting a lot of calls for Advent candles today, but no, we don’t carry those.”  On the one hand, it’s a little comforting to know that I’m not the only one who was unprepared for this season of preparation; I am now prepared for at least next Advent too [show big box of purple candles]; thank you Amazon.  But on the other hand, they do call it a season of preparation, not a season of being prepared; a bit like how they call it fishing and not catching, right?  

That’s really the point: you don’t need to be prepared for the coming of our Savior; you need be preparing for the coming of our Savor; there’s a difference.  Being prepared is a destination and this season—and perhaps our entire life of faith—is more about the journey.  

So we prepare.  The Baptist’s central message is, of course, to prepare; prepare the way of the Lord!  God's choice of John, the locust-eating wilderness-dweller, to proclaim that message is important in itself.  Luke draws us to notice that this profoundly important Word comes neither to the Emperor nor to the governors, and not even to the high priests.  It comes through simple John, son of Zechariah, who Luke introduces in the first chapter.  John the Baptist is to us a great prophet who prepared the way for Jesus, but compared with the political and religious leaders of his day, John was a nobody—and yet, God chose him to be the messenger.  And notice where God sent this message: into the wilderness; not Rome, not Jerusalem; the wilderness.  That often scary and confusing place where God sometimes speaks—perhaps because when we’re scared and confused, that’s when we’ll listen.  God's choice of who and where perhaps indicates what God then expects from us. 

So what, according to the Baptist, does God expect of us?  Well, the short answer is, repentance. The short answer is that we are expected to turn back to God.  It means hearing the brash voice of John and the brasher voice of the Spirit and knowing in our hearts that they are right.  It means we turn from notions of power, prestige, and even place and seek the God who meets and seeks after us where we are.  And yes, it can get uncomfortable; as well as it should be.  It’s hard to get one’s head around the fact that the guy who calls us a “brood of vipers” is trying to help; but John is trying to help.  Repentance is ultimately good for us; it is good because it returns us to the God who loves us beyond measure.  

Our theme this Advent season is relationships.  I’ve invited you to join me in a spiritual practice.  I don’t do that very often.  Maybe after ten and a half years as your pastor I’m getting sassy.  Maybe I think I’ve built up enough credit between us that I can be trusted to try something new.  Maybe I might even know what I’m talking about.  I’ve invited you to build relationships between you and other folks from this church.  I don’t much care how or when, just that you intentionally get to know one person here per week better than you did before.  Full disclosure: I’m having a blast.  This is my happy-place.  Building and deepening relationships is what I’m made for.  This is one of those things that I can’t believe I get paid to do.  If this isn’t exactly your skillset, don’t quit; I promise it will grow on you.  

But in a way, that’s a bit beside the point for today, isn’t it?  There is a relationship we are called to build and deepen today, but it isn’t exactly with a person near you.  This relationship, at least at first, is with the fierce and terrifying God of Israel.  Luke quotes the Prophet Isaiah today.  John is the voice crying out in the wilderness.  Get ready, people!  Here comes God!  There is infrastructure work to be done when God is on the way, right?  Fill up every valley, lower every mountain and hill; straighten where it’s crooked, smooth where it’s rough; God is coming!  

Note the imagery here: God is coming, but our response is not fear of judgment.  We want and welcome the coming of our God; our roadwork is to make it easier for God to get here.  Repentance is a good thing; repentance is to welcome and receive our God with joy.  

I’ve been crying a lot lately.  The work that God has done on my spirit lately has rubbed me raw.  If we meet together to deepen our relationship, I will probably cry; don’t be afraid.  As far as I know, it’s not contagious.  And even if it is, it is wonderful.  My tears are all about the transformational and redemptive work of God in my life.  My tears are about joy.  

There is joy in our repentance.  The opening of the chapter from Isaiah that Luke quotes goes like this: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”  God longs for us.  God is merciful to us.  God’s discipline is not final.  The last word is relationship.  

Do you get it yet?  What God wants for you is renewed relationship.  It’s what Jesus came into this world to finish.  John calls us to prepare.  And sure, his words are brash.  But sometimes the words of passionate love are not carefully chosen; so get with it brood of vipers; God loves you; let’s find out what God wants of us.  

It’s a good question.  Even with the knowledge that the end is love, it’s still good question: the people ask of John, “What should we do?”  If the axe is at our root, if family ties don’t mean a thing, what should we do?  The answer, at this point, shouldn’t surprise us: love.  Love like God loves.  Care for those God cares for.  If you have, say, an extra coat, give that coat to someone who doesn’t even have one.  If you’ve got, say, more food you need, give that extra food to someone who doesn’t have enough.  Love.  Love those God loves.  Love as God loves.  As you deepen your relationship with your Savior, don’t be surprised to find yourself deepening relationships with those he loves.  Care for those that God cares for.  Simple.  

As we continue to prepare for the coming of our Lord, let us seek to know him more.  In our repentance, let us joyfully turn our hearts and lives to our coming King; and as we do, may we learn to love as he loves.