A Talent Filled Christmas

Sermon text from the 8:15 and 9 services.

Luke 1:46-56. Concerning Mary’s Joyful Song of Rebellion

We were expecting our first child. Kate and I had read countless blogs and pregnancy books, and talked to friends and family. I’ve loved Kate for over half my life. She is my favorite person in the world. Shouldn’t her genetics be replicated in the form of a baby? That sounds too clinical, doesn’t it?

But a baby?! What do I know about babies? I’ve had limited experience with them. Growing up, I was given toy guns, not dolls. The message was that men are to fight, not be dads. It’s weird the messages we receive without ever meaning to. Plus, I didn’t have a consistent male role model in my life. I wasn’t raised with a father, so I began to realize as the pregnancy progressed that I lacked in that area. I started to follow various dad bloggers and twitter accounts. Yet something was off for me.

I fretted. I asked the dads I’ve most respected in my life, whose work I have witnessed firsthand. I asked Kate’s dad and her brothers in-law about being fathers. They were gracious and wise and funny. They had faith that I was up to the task. Their words and mentoring mean the world to me to this day. Yet it still hadn’t sunk in.

I am doubtful by nature. I like to test things. And it’s especially hard to test things about yourself because… well… you’re biased toward yourself. I don’t trust this bias. I would lie awake at night with all these questions I couldn’t verbalize. I would stare at the ceiling while Kate slept soundly with our child silently growing beside me. Those nights were long and while they weren’t met with existential dread, there was a sense of low level anxiety around them… until one night.

Now I’ve had vivid dreams all my life. Good dreams and nightmares… all are very vivid. When I was around 7 years old, I had this recurring nightmare that I kept waking my mom up with. She told me that I could change my dreams. That when things started to get scary, I could change it. I just had to realize it was a dream. I’ve been doing this ever since. Apparently, this has a name: Lucid Dreaming.

This one night though… I was in this bright house. It was old and there were oil paintings hanging everywhere, going all the way to the ceiling of the high-walled room. The light was golden, everything seemed lit from within. I walked around, and I was at peace. Then I saw my grandma. She had died 4 years before yet here she was sitting and holding a pink bundle.

I approached and said, “Hi, Grandma!” and then I noticed her hands. My grandma’s hands all her life were gnarled things; twisted by rheumatoid arthritis. But her hands here were fine. “Grandma! Your hands!”

“Yeah, they are better here.” She calmly replied. “Step closer. I have someone I want you to meet.”

And she handed me the bundle. It was a baby. Wrapped in a pink blanket.

“This is your daughter. You’re going to be a great dad. I think Ann Elizabeth is a good name, but you can pick whatever you want.”

I then realized it was a dream. I had to be dreaming. Maybe I could change something in this dream yet as soon as I thought that, my grandma said, “You can’t do that here.” And I knew what she meant.

I noticed an old woman next to my grandma. My grandma kept reading my mind, “This… This is the owner of the house. She’s just great.” I looked around at all the pictures, and they were all portraits of people. “These are her works of art. Now you’ll have to give Ann back to me. You’ll meet her soon enough.”

Then I woke up. I immediately wrote down this dream. I couldn’t believe it. After that… I never worried about what sort of father I would be. I had faith that I would be up to the task.

There are things that being a parent… you just can’t explain. You can only learn by being a parent. There’s a whole new level of joy that surrounds you. Sometimes it happens right away, sometimes it’s not immediate. The joy of holding this little human that you made. The joy of the first smile. The joy and agony of changing diapers. There are things they don’t tell you about being a parent because no one can.

Mary is visiting her cousin Elizabeth. She’s pregnant and unmarried, a scandal. Mary hides out for her first trimester. Upon greeting one another, Elizabeth’s child leaps in her womb. That child will be John the Baptist. And Mary sings a song of praise. It is a joyful song, yet it’s a song that has political connotations.

The mighty one has done great things for me! Amen! That is so true. God created someone like Kate and my family and friends. God has given my two wonderful kids. The joy of children, of new life, of learning and the excitement that children bring. Not only in our lives but in the life of our church! A noisy church is a growing church, and today our children will take center stage at 10:30! And what better time to feature children than in Advent? For they are what’s coming… they are our future and the future of the Kingdom of God.

Yet this good news is not for the proud, they will be scattered. Not for the powerful, they will be brought down. The lowly will be lifted up and the hungry filled with good things and the rich will be sent away empty. Mary gives us an upside-down world. God’s economy doesn’t start at the top, it starts at the bottom and goes up. Any who want to be great, serve. Any who wish to enter God’s kingdom, become a child.

God doesn’t start with the proud, powerful rich types. God starts with an unwed pregnant teenager singing a song of revolution on the porch of her cousin. God starts with each of us, right where we are… not in the things we are good at but often in the places where we are lacking. If we are too proud, we are not open to teaching or transformation. If we are too powerful, we can think we got there on our own accord. If we are too rich, we can forget about others and live in our protective little bubble within a gated community… never sensing that gates have also formed around our hearts.

I am nothing without others. I don’t know where I would be if not here. If not filled with the love and guidance of my family, mentors, and friends. Kids keep us humble in many ways. Kids don’t have a filter and they tell the truth about what they see and experience. It can be shocking at first, but there’s great joy to be had as well.

There is joy in life. Lots of it! It doesn’t look like a Hallmark card or an advertisement. It looks like a child being handed by a doctor to two big kids who are shocked that two people walked into a room and three walk out. It looks like long grocery-lists to feed our loved ones who are visiting. It looks like a baby’s first steps or the encouragement of a cousin or the commiseration of someone who has been there before. It looks like a couple who couldn’t bear children becoming foster parents or adoptive parents. It looks like a couple who lost a child remembering them and talking openly about their loss. It looks like those who aren’t called to have kids mentoring the next generation and raising them up. True joy is different than being happy, it’s deeper. Happiness is a thing with wings, it comes and goes. Joy has weight, more staying power. Happiness is contextual, it comes and goes in various situations we find ourselves in. Joy is something deeper, something that we operate out of no matter the circumstance.

Joy looks like the opposite of pride, power, and possessions. When we are truly joyful, we just… are. We aren’t our titles, our stuff, our jobs, we’re just in the moment smiling, our hearts growing three times their size. In those times of joy, we just are. We are truly human beings, not human doings.

I think back to that dream often. Anytime I’m struggling to be a good parent who’s more patient and understanding. I think that’s what grace is. God knows I’m going to mess up in parenting, but I’m willing to learn and get better. I think that’s what discipleship looks like too. We all yearn for those moments when all our doubts and cares that keep us up at night staring at the ceiling… those just melt away and we just find ourselves… loved and somehow complete. We are surprised to find ourselves perfectly imperfect. And our souls magnify the Lord and our spirit rejoices in God, our savior, for She looks upon each of us with favor in our lowliness. Thanks be to God!

 

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