Tuesday 18 December 2018

Christmas services information

SPECIAL SERVICES...

Sun 23 Dec. 10.30am:
'Looking forward to Christmas' -
all-age, less formal worship this morning, for the young and the young at heart.

Mon 24 Dec. 11pm:
'Winter warm up' -

In the bleak midwinter, preparing for Watchnight,
warm yourself up with a hot cuppa and mince pies in the church hall, Abington...
and then:
11.30pm-12.10am: Watchnight service in the church featuring friends from
Leadhills Silver Band. Join us as we welcome in the Christ-child and sing in
Christmas morning.

Sun 30 Dec. 10.30am:
A service of lessons and carols - 

the traditional re-telling of the Christmas story through readings and songs

Sunday 16 December 2018

Sunday 16 Dec, Advent 3: Important births - 'John the Baptist'

READINGS: Luke 1:5-25; Luke 1:57-66; Luke 1:67-80

SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer, amen.

A little earlier we lit our third Advent candle thinking of the theme ‘joy’ ...
Joy.
It’s a word that, for me, has an immediate link to the comedian,
Rikky Fulton and his great creation, the Rev. I. M. Jolly who is anything but jolly and joyful in look and in attitude.
And so friends, today, I get to say his immortal words:
‘Hullo...  today we’re thinking about...   ‘joy’'
It’s such an old sketch, but it still gives me the giggles – because it was so beautifully done.
So, today, we’re going to think about joy – joy and John the Baptist.
And rather than a long, depressed, I. M. Jolly reflection, let’s begin with some really
diabolically bad... I mean, fabulous, John the Baptist jokes –
because, yes, there are some floating about.
Are you ready?
Then here we go:
What do Winnie the Pooh and John the Baptist have in common?
A/ They have the same middle name.

Why did John the Baptist take his shoes off before going into the water?
A/ He wanted to save soles!

Thinking about the young John:
Little Johnny's mother looked out the window and noticed him
"playing church" with their cat.
He had the cat sitting quietly and he was preaching to it.
She smiled and went about her work.
A while later she heard loud meowing and hissing
and ran back to the open window to see Johnny baptizing the cat in a tub of water.
She called out,
"Johnny, stop that! The cat is afraid of water!"
Johnny looked up at her and said,
"He should have thought about that before he joined my church."

And the last one, this when John was older:
John the Baptist used to walk through the desert in his bare feet.
This left his feet tough, which is understandable –
the hot sand and rough terrain would leave anyone's feet tough.
He was known to receive signs from God and occasionally perform mystical feats.
He subsisted on a diet of locusts and honey.
Without access to dental hygiene at the time, this left him with somewhat bad breath.
It also left him frail, as the diet wasn't varied and would have required an immense
intake of food to be remotely sustained.
I guess that you could say that he was...
okay, are you ready it...I'm really, really, sorry...:
a super-callused fragile mystic vexed with halitosis.

I could keep telling jokes, but you might just stone me.
So, joy, and John the Baptist:
In our first reading, we meet Zechariah, John’s dad.
He’s a priest, and when we meet him, it’s his turn to serve in the Temple.
There he is, going about his job in this most holy of places when God shows up:
or, more precisely, God’s messenger, the angel, Gabriel.
It’s occasionally amused me that Zechariah, a servant of God,
is actually surprised to have an experience of God in what is the house of prayer,
but, nevertheless, he is.
On the other hand, if we're being generous, perhaps it’s a lesson in not taking God for granted.
The angel tells Zechariah that he and his wife, though now quite elderly,
shall have a child, a son.
And there are conditions placed upon the way this child is to live out his life:
he is never to touch wine, or fermented drink of any kind...
Now, for those of you here last week, does this story not rather have
very strong echoes of the birth story of Samson?
In this case, however, the son will not be a deliverer of God’s people,
rather, he’ll prepare them for the coming of God’s deliverer – the Messiah long foretold.
Further, Zechariah is told by the angel what name to give to the child –
and, as we discover later, it’s not a name that has ever done the rounds
of that particular family group.
This new child will have a new name – marking him out as special.
The angel also tells Zechariah that John will be
‘a joy and a delight’ to Zechariah and Elizabeth,
but the joy doesn’t stop there:
many will rejoice because of John’s birth.
What amazing news.

So, there Zechariah stands:
in the temple,
in the holiest place in the temple,
faced with God’s messenger, the angel, Gabriel, hearing this incredible message.
Now, remember, when angels tend to appear to folk in the bible,
the first thing they often say is:
‘Do not be afraid...’
Angels, clearly, are pretty imposing beings.
But there's no real indication that Zechariah actually *is* afraid.
Instead, having seen the angel and heard the news, Zechariah says:
‘How can I be sure this is true?’
Seriously??
A plaguey great angel is standing there in front of him and he asks this?
And, as we heard in our reading, Gabriel pretty much responds with:
‘Okay, how about this – I’ll cause you not to be able to speak for a while.’
Effectively an angelic ‘time-out’ for Zechariah to use to do a little deeper reflecting.
Eventually, he emerges from the Temple –
and, because he’s been in there so long,
and he’s suddenly lost his ability to speak,
everyone there knows something’s happened.
Despite his speech problems, he still manages to communicate
to Elizabeth what’s gone on
and, what’s going to happen.
She accepts the news, and, in a little foreshadowing of Mary’s story shortly after,
Elizabeth says, as Mary will also:
‘The Lord has shown his favour to me.’

At the right time, this special child is born –
and again we have this theme of joy coming in:
it’s not just Zechariah and Elizabeth who are joyful – the whole community shares the joy.
But what to name the child?
All sorts of family names are suggested by family and friends –
so, when Zechariah affirms Elizabeth in the choice of the name ‘John’ everyone is surprised.
It’s at that point when Zechariah’s long silence is broken.
And his first words?
A wonderful song of joy:
from ‘how can I be sure’ to a joy-filled affirmation of faith.
To a nation under Roman captivity, Zechariah’s song declares God’s faithfulness:
that God will come and save his people,
that God has not forgotten them,
that God has chosen them to serve him without fear –
unlike having to kow-tow to their Roman masters for fear of retribution.

Zechariah then sings of his son, and the role that John will have in God’s plan:
he will be a prophet,
he will prepare the way for the Lord –
by teaching God’s people of God’s mercy and forgiveness;
by pointing them to the light that shines even in the darkest places,
even in the shadow of death.
John, the prophet,
will guide them to the way –
Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life;
Jesus, upon whom the hope of  all God’s people is founded;
Jesus, the Prince of peace, who will lead God’s people to the path of peace –
where there will be no more war,
no more being crushed under the heel of earthly Emperors and empires,
where there will be no ‘other’ only brothers, and sisters.
John, the one who will be a joy and a delight to Zechariah and Elizabeth,
and be a cause of rejoicing to many,
will lead God’s people to joy –
to Jesus,
the One who is the joy of all God’s people:
for in him there is freedom, life, liberation.

In this season of Advent, John still points the way for us,
the way to Jesus, the Way –
John beckons us, as God’s people
to follow the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life;
he calls us to prepare our hearts,
to make room,
to let in ...not just... a happy feeling, for feelings come and go...
but that great, deep, profound joy that only Jesus can give:
a joy based upon God’s great faithfulness,
a joy that shines not just in the good times,
but shines in the hard places we find ourselves;
a joy that comes from serving God not out of fear, but from being loved.
This is the good news, which causes us to not only love and serve God,
but the whole of creation, and all humankind –
not for our own gain, but for sheer love’s sake.
It’s a joy that has at its heart the knowledge that
we are God’s and that we are not forgotten.
As you continue to watch and wait and prepare once more
to remember the coming of the Christ-child,
may you hear John’s message of joy,
may his message unsettle you in a good and curious way
so that you seek to know more of the deep, profound, and real joy of the God
who casts away fear
and calls us all to transform the world in love. Amen.

Tuesday 11 December 2018

Special services over the Christmas period....

SPECIAL SERVICES...

Sat 15 Dec. 2pm:
'Tidings of comfort and joy'
-
a quiet service in the church at Abington, where we remember loved ones who, for whatever reason, won't be home for Christmas.
Refreshments in the hall after.

Sun 16 Dec. 6.30pm:
'Scotland's highest carol service' -
Join us this year in Leadhills Village Hall. Featuring music from our friends in the Leadhills Silver Band.
Sing along to your favourite carols in Scotand's 2nd highest village [we alternate!]

Sun 23 Dec. 10.30am:
'Looking forward to Christmas' -
all-age, less formal worship this morning, for the young and the young at heart.

Mon 24 Dec. 11pm:
'Winter warm up' -

In the bleak midwinter, preparing for Watchnight,
warm yourself up with a hot cuppa and mince pies in the church hall, Abington...
and then:
11.30pm-12.10am: Watchnight service in the church featuring friends from
Leadhills Silver Band. Join us as we welcome in the Christ-child and sing in
Christmas morning.

Sun 30 Dec. 10.30am:
A service of lessons and carols - 

the traditional re-telling of the Christmas story through readings and songs

Sunday 9 December 2018

Advent 2: Sun 9 Dec - 'Important births, wk2: Samson'

The second in our Advent series on the theme of important births.
This week, some thoughts on the story of Samson.
Like Moses before him, Samson is destined to be a leader of God's people.
But what kind of a man, and what kind of a deliverer is he?
In the story, it's also interesting to see who and what is named, or not named.
Who is given value by the writer of the text, through the power of naming,
and who is deemed unvalued? And then, there's the power of names in and of themselves...
Below, our readings, a brief reflection, and then today's sermon.

READINGS: Judges 13:2-24; Judges 16:4-17; Judges 16:18-31

REFLECTION ‘Her name means “night”’ 
She is dark of night
to his blazing sun;
schemer, and betrayer
to his strength and heroic status.
She is called to cause his fall;
he is called to bring deliverance.
Seems so simple,
so very black and white.
Delilah, the bad
to Samson’s good.
But this is not some Hollywood Western:
bad girls in black hats,
the good guys in white.
Her name means ‘night’,
forever a creature of darkness,
but when men hold all the power
and she is fighting to survive,
she’ll use what she can.
And when the men in power
see the Champion of their enemies
in her company
what is she to do?
Oh, they’ll pay her well,
but if she refuses,
they know where her family live.
His name means ‘sun’
and he believes the world revolves around
him,
sees nothing but his own need.
A flawed hero
who’s already left his first wife
to the world’s tender mercies.
She makes the meal,
pours the wine,
uses her power
to live.
© N Macdonald

SERMON ‘The sun child’
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen

Sometimes when people name their children,
they don’t realise what a burden they are
placing on that child for the rest of its life.
For example, it would be pretty hard getting through life with a name like:
Ben Dover
There’s a biblical scholar named Eugene Boring...
who, incidentally, isn’t.
It might be a tad tricky being a political candidate with the name Oliver Loser –
or the political analyst rejoicing in the name Krystal Ball...
actually, I think we could use her here in the UK at the moment with all this Brexit stuff.
Would you buy property from a real estate agent called Wendy Whacko?

Now, if you’ve escaped a tricky birth name,
what happens when, due to life circumstances, your name changes?
In the unfortunate double-barrelled married name department,
meet Joe McDonald who married his sweetheart, Catherine Berger,
so becaming the McDonald-Bergers... this is true, honest!
Or, in the ‘I’ve got a new title to put in front of my name’ category
we remember the now-deceased Bishop Jaime Sin, who became a Cardinal...
thus becoming Cardinal Sin.
Names can be a very difficult and tricky business
and, as we see in our Bible reading this morning,
names can be carried down through the centuries and become weighed down with meaning.
It would be hard to live up to a name such as Samson if you were just a wee, frail laddie
– or, for that matter, if as a girl, you had to try live down being given the name Delilah,
with some of the less than savoury overtones that’s gathered over the years.
Some of those old Hollywood Biblical epics have a lot to answer for, I think.
However, both names come with quite a reputation.

Let’s think about Samson’s story –
and truly, I’ve never really quite known what to make of it –
there are so many contradictions and moral ambiguities.
Perhaps this is an example of God's community learning together,
so I look forward to conversations over coffee after worship!
Anyway, Samson’s story –
There’s a few names in the beginning:
We have a place name: our story begins in Zorah.
And we zoom in on a chap called Manoah.
He belongs to the clan called the Danites.
His wife... oh, wait.
All these names, and yet, when we get to her – she is unnamed.
But, it’s to this unnamed woman that the angel of the Lord appears and says:
‘You will conceive and have a son’
I suspect we may be hearing similar words spoken
by an angel to a woman in upcoming weeks...
The angel, having told the woman that she'll have a baby
proceeds to give some strict instructions:
this is going to be a very special child –
while she is pregnant she must not drink alcohol or eat unclean food.
When she’s had the child, who will be a boy,
the child must never drink alcohol,
must never eat prohibited food,
and must on no account cut his hair.
Why?
He is to become a Nazirite.
What's that?
Basically, a person set aside for God’s work, in this case, to deliver Israel from her enemies.
Incidentally, even the enemies are named:
the Philistines.

As we heard in the story, the woman with no name heads off to tell her husband.
Eventually the husband meets with the Angel,
and, in conversation, asks the name of the angel.
No name is given – the Angel declares that it’s beyond human understanding.
Eventually, the child is born and we learn that his name is Samson.
Now the general rule of thumb when telling a story is that,
you tend to know who the important people are – they get a name.
The ones deemed unimportant, well, why waste time and effort giving them
a name, after all, to the teller of the tale, who cares?

But of everyone and everything that is named so far
- apart from Samson - 
it’s the two who don’t have names that matter the most.
Let’s be blunt, there’s nothing insignificant about the angel of the Lord:
this is God’s messenger, sent from the very heavens to earth to deliver huge news –
God has seen the plight of Israel and will rescue them.
And then, there’s the woman:
without her, there can be no special child, no deliverer to come to Israel’s aid.
Behind the story, we find that, whether named or unnamed by fellow human beings,
nevertheless, all are known to God,
all have their place, and purpose,
for all are God’s children,
and all are called,
and all are important to God's story overall.

But let’s think about this special child, Samson.
His name means ‘sun’.
He will rule as a Judge in the time when Israel has no kings.
It’s a pretty chaotic time, a time when good leadership is needed.
So, in a sense, the light of Samson’s rule as a Judge should bring relief to
the beleaguered Israelites suffering constant attack by those pesky Philistines.
Just as the planets revolve around the sun, so the people look to Samson.
But he’s a flawed hero:
he’s utterly self-absorbed.
He lives up to his name in so far as in his own mind,
everything revolved around him and his needs.
Sure, he’ll go and kill a bunch of Philistines every now and then,
but... he is not a wise leader.
He deliberately provokes and enjoys causing trouble –
a seeker of peace he is not.
And, remember those conditions placed upon him as a baby?
Yeah, he’s cheerfully not bothered much about them at all.
Samson is obsessed with violence and women.
He may be physically strong,
but his mentally and morally puny.
There’s a dark side to Samson – the ‘sun’ child.

And what of Delilah?
Her name means ‘night’.
She is the night to his sun...
and she’ll be the one who will cause him to finally succumb to his
enemies because of his lack of inner strength.
Samson, the ‘sun’, will be captured,
his purpose as a deliverer seemingly snuffed out.
His power, his purpose, even his sight, will fail
and he will fall into the darkness of captivity –
he too, will become like night.

The ironic thing about Samson is that,
it’s only at the end of his life when he has lost everything,
and, when he’s had time to reflect - for that is all that’s left to him -
it’s only then, that he seems able to look beyond himself and cry out to God:
the God, who has always been with him,
but who Samson had pretty much ignored up to this point.
As he thinks of God,
Samson remembers he is special,
that longed-for child foretold by an angel;
the one who would deliver Israel.
Here, in the temple of another God,
chained to the central pillars,
blinded, shamed, enslaved,
Samson remembers God’s call upon his life.
And yet, he has always been a violent man, self-centred man.
Even as he remembers that call, he finds a way to make this about him:
so he seeks revenge and a death by violence.
The writer of Samson’s story tells us that he finds his strength and, in one last act,
this flawed hero of Israel manages to kill more Philistines as he dies,
than in all of the time he lives.

What do we make of Samson?
I suspect that, despite some of the old Sunday School resource material
I used to see around the place, Samson’s probably not the best
role model for your children... or perhaps any of us.
Perhaps this is less a story about a hero,
and more a story about potential wasted?
Perhaps it’s also a story about how we define strength and power.
Samson ruled by physical might – his sheer, brute strength.
His fists bought peace for a time,
delivering Israel from the attacks of Philistines,
but in no lasting way.
Violence brought more violence –
an endless cycle:
again, he was no man of peace.

His life begins seemingly so favourably:
this is God’s special child;
this child is given particular gifts;
he grows up and becomes a leader –
but one more interested in looking out for himself,
not looking out for the people...
sometimes those interests coincide,
at times they don’t.
He has been given a good start in life,
and he has been given much during his life –
as well as taking much.
In the end, after a lifetime of suiting himself,
when he finds he no longer has any power
at all, he rediscovers God.

Deliverer or destroyer?
Hero or anti-hero?
Perhaps he’s a useful warning:
of what happens when you squander your God-given gifts and potential?
It’s a very mixed tale with Samson.
Having led the people for twenty chaotic years, he dies.
There will be others that God raises up to help deliver the Israelites –
some will be a whole lot better than Samson,
yet all are flawed and fallible humans.
Even the great King David is guilty of murder.
Who can the people of God turn to?
Who will be the one deliverer
who won’t fall, or fail?

In this season of Advent, when thinking of God’s promise of deliverance,
it’s not to Samson we turn –
even though an angel proclaimed his birth.
In the end, God sends Jesus:
the only one able to truly, fully deliver God’s people –
each of whom are known and named:
for in God’s story,
whether weak or strong,
high profile or barely visible by the standards of the world...
we are all important and our names matter,
and all of us worth rescuing. Amen.

Wednesday 5 December 2018

Advent 1: Sun 2 Dec: Important births, wk 1 - Moses

Communion Sunday, in which we shared bread and wine at the table of the Lord.
Having been fed, so in our giving of thanks, we look beyond ourselves to the needs of others.
The food bank box has reappeared and will be in the vestibule until after worship on Sun 16 Dec.

Huge thanks to those who already filled the box prior to morning worship - that's excellent!
And many thanks to those outwith the congregation who have been so generous with donations.

Our Advent series this year reflects on important births. This week, we thought about Moses.

READINGS: Exodus 1:1-22; Ex 2:1-10;
Acts 7:17-34

SERMON
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our deliverer. Amen.

As I was looking at our texts for this morning,
and thinking of the Advent theme of hope,
I was reminded of Nina Simone’s classic song:
‘I wish I knew how it would feel to be free’
and of a particular event in the 20th century.
First, the opening verse of the song:
I wish I knew how
It would feel to be free
I wish I could break
All the chains holding me
I wish I could say
All the things that I should say
Say 'em loud say 'em clear
For the whole round world to hear

And the event?
It’s the evening of the 1st of December.
She’s had a long day at work.
Her shift over, she leaves, and heads for the bus stop.
The bus arrives, she gets on board,
walks along the aisle past empty rows of seats,
and settles herself just behind the 10th row.
Several stops later, the rows in front of her are now completely full.
More people get on board, but, are now all standing up the front.
The driver comes down to the 10th row,
takes a sign from its place on the back of the seat, and moves it a few rows back.
He looks at her, and those sitting in the several rows
that have suddenly changed their designation and orders them to move back
behind that sign – to give up their seats to the folk standing at the front of the bus.
One by one they get up and move...
except one.
She is not moving.
She’s tired – not physically –
she’s tired of giving in,
giving in to a system designed to beat her down:
to treat people like her as less than fully human.

The police are called.
She’s arrested and taken off to the police station for having broken the law.
The law that requires her to only sit in specially designated places,
the law that requires her to give up her seat on a bus, when asked,
to someone else deemed more worthy solely because of the colour of their skin, someone...white.

63 years ago, Rosa Parks made a stand for justice by the act of sitting down –
and, as the news of what happened that night on the bus in Montgomery, Alabama, spread,
hope for change began to spark, and light up the hearts
of those others who, like Rosa, were oppressed by racism deep, deep within
the structures of the society they lived in.

90 years before, the Civil War had seen the end of slavery;
even so, freedom was a long time coming for those in the South –
and while in law freedom has been won,
in practice, there are still those who continue to deny people of colour basic human rights.
However, on that night in December, Rosa, in a spontaneous act of refusing to move,
became a symbol of the Civil Rights Movement,
a symbol of hope.
Later, she would say:
'I would like to be remembered as a person who wanted to be free...
so other people would be also free.'
One, seemingly ordinary woman,
a woman of courage and conviction,
with a strong desire for freedom,
and with hope in her heart and in her God,
accomplished great change.

In the story of Moses that we heard earlier,
the desire for freedom is a key theme,
and underlying that freedom are acts by individuals, who,
despite the most dire of circumstances, manage to hold on to hope.
Let’s go back a little, however, before Moses is born.
Several weeks ago, we journeyed with Joseph –
son of Jacob;
Joseph the dreamer with the fancy coat;
Joseph the favourite;
Joseph the annoying little brother
who is eventually so loathed by his brothers
that he is sold into slavery by them and ends up in Egypt.
We know that in Joseph’s case, he prospers, and, in the end,
not only has found favour with Pharaoh,
not only has he rescued Egypt from famine,
he is also, eventually reconciled to his family –
they are welcomed by Pharaoh to join Joseph,
to settle in Egypt,
to live off the fat of the land,
and to prosper.

Time passed.
Joseph and his generation died.
Pharaoh also died.
The descendants of Joseph and his family had indeed prospered –
Egypt had been good to them and for them.
But Joseph’s story had somehow been forgotten.
A new pharaoh looked at these ‘foreigners’ and wanted them out:
and, isn’t that a recurring theme all down through history?
‘We don’t like them. They’re different.
They’re taking over. Time they went home’...
forgetting that for many, the UK...
sorry, I mean Egypt...
had been their home all their lives.

And so new laws came into force –
life became hard for the Hebrew people in Egypt.
Any rights or privileges were stripped away –
their freedoms were curtailed and they became slaves.
A system of genetic selection is put in place:
Pharaoh instructs the two Hebrew midwives – Shiprah and Puah –
to kill all baby boys.
With no men of their own to marry,
the baby girls when grown, would have no choice
but to intermarry, and eventually assimilate.
Into this time of dire darkness, then, we have a small story of hope,
hope held in the hearts of two women
of courage and conviction and compassion,
who chose to subvert the system:
who quietly disobeyed the orders of the most powerful man in the land.

Eventually, a crack down occurs –
and, it’s at this particular time that a couple marry, conceive,
and have a baby son, who they hide.
Now, this seems to be a second marriage:
for it appears there’s a sister on the scene.
Like the midwives, she’s pretty canny.
With it getting more difficult to hide the child,
the only seeming hope of survival is to put him into a reed basket
and, strategically, push that basket a little way downriver,
just at the time when Pharaoh’s daughter is bathing.
The sister looks on to see what will happen.
The baby happily drifts into view of the princess and before you can say:
‘perhaps I can find a wet nurse for you’
this seemingly insignificant baby is saved...
a baby, who we discover, in our reading from Acts, is ‘no ordinary man’.
This rather important baby is raised in Pharaoh’s palace, and later,
when seeing the treatment of his people, tries to do something about it:
admittedly, he makes a mess of it.
He’s forced to flee – where he marries, has children,
loses the ‘softness’ of palace living and toughens up.

It’s when forty years have passed,
that God calls him –
that God sees within him that man from long ago who wanted to help his people...
and God draws this out once more –
God has seen the oppression of his people and has come to set them free...
and it is within God’s call that this ordinary,
but not ordinary man, effectively becomes the symbol of hope for his people.

We’ve looked back at the story of the
birth of Moses and we look forward.
At Advent, and at Christmas, so often you’ll hear from scripture the words
‘as the time drew near.’
In the case of Moses:
‘as the time drew near for God to fulfil his promise to Abraham.’
In the case of the Christ-child, we wait, with hope,
as the time draws near to remember once again,
God’s promise to the whole of humanity,
fulfilled in the birth of one small child.
Like Moses, that child was born
at a time when things seemed darkest for God’s people,
living as they did under Roman occupation;
living under the rule of a puppet king –
Herod, the Great, who was so paranoid about losing power, that he, like Pharaoh,
issued an order to kill all boy babies.

Both have a time of waiting and preparation –
although Moses doesn’t realise that’s what it is until God calls him.
Jesus quietly prepares for his life’s work and before embarking upon it,
he spends time in the Wilderness.

God has seen the oppression of his people.
In Jesus, he comes to set them free...
Jesus becomes a symbol of liberating hope –
and the torch is lit,
and hope spreads –
not just to those under the yoke of Roman oppression,
but down through the ages,
to all people:
wherever the darkness looms and threatens to crush life,
there we find Jesus bringing hope:
fully human, yet, fully God –
God on the side of those chained into debt
by unscrupulous lenders and crippling borrowing fees;
God on the side of those seeking freedom
and finding themselves chained at the hands of human traffickers;
God on the side of all who are singled out and
bullied, or systematically brutalised for being somehow different;
God on the side of families fleeing unjust governments -
who long for asylum and safety, only to be met by tear gas canisters.
God on the side of all people who no longer need fear death,
for in Christ, even death has been defeated.

This first Sunday of Advent, we think of hope.
We think of seemingly insignificant people,
just getting on with their lives,
people who held hope in their hearts,
and, with that hope, were able to stand up for others –
by sitting down on a bus, like Rosa Parks;
or by subverting powerful kings, like Shiprah and Pruah -
ordinary people who trusted in God.
We think of all those following God’s call for freedom from oppression,
hope holders, hope givers:
even... people like us –
who can use our hands, our hearts, our voices, and anything else we have,
to let that hope shine in the darkness,
so that others may see it,
and take courage,
and know that God has seen their oppression and has come to set them free.

We, as God’s ordinary, extraordinary people,
continue the work that God began way back near the beginning of all things,
we continue the work as shown in the life of Jesus:
for we are now his body in the world –
the work of hope,
the work of justice,
the work of bringing in God’s kingdom,
where all know true freedom in God.
It is a work that is mix of the wondrous,
and the everyday, of sorrow and of joy;
it is our life’s work as Christians and may seem daunting...
but, if even the power of death has been defeated what have we to fear?
We need nothing more than to hold firmly on to hope in the One who calls us. Amen.