In the Name of the Living God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
The great and enduring question of Advent is this: what are we going to do when the Master comes?
And this question is the same whether we are referring to His first advent in a manger, which we remember every Christmastide, or to His second advent, when, as the great hymn puts it, “Lo, he comes with clouds descending…Christ our Lord returns to reign.”
What are we going to do when the Master comes?
In the opening lines of St. Mark’s gospel today, we encounter the same thing: St. John the Baptist is also beseeching us to consider this “Advent question,” if you will.
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,” he cries.
Advent, you see, is all about preparing the way of the Master so we may receive again – or even for the first time – the one who first loved us and gave himself for us.
So, what will we do when the Master comes?
As we think about our preparations, I’d like us to stretch our imaginations [this evening/morning] and consider a little scenario.
I’d like you to pretend that you have just received word from a messenger – maybe even St. John the Baptist – that Jesus is coming to Sarasota in a few weeks and wants to come by your house this advent just to say hello and check-in. Yeah, the king of kings and lord of lords is coming over to see you!
I’m assuming our preparations would include following the proper protocols for when someone important comes over: we’d clean up the house, spruce up the yard, buy some nice wine, vacuum the living room, do some dusting and get some flowers. We’d run down to Morton’s to buy some smoked salmon or something. We’d bring out the crystal and china – the best of the best – to make everything look and feel just right for such a special occasion. No detail would be overlooked.
As the evening approached, we’d probably even begin to feel really good about the fact that Jesus was coming to visit, and we’d begin to gloat a bit. We might start imagining the visit more as an event – one worthy of inclusion alongside other holiday parties in Sarasota Magazine or even Town & Country.
But what if the evening didn’t work out that way at all?
What if the Master came over as planned, walked in, greeted you and said, “Oh this is very nice indeed. Thank you so very much for going to all this trouble. While I do love nice wine and salmon in the parlor, I’d really like to have a look around.
So, much to our chagrin Jesus begins poking around, looking in all the rooms along the hallway; he peeks into all the nooks and crannies, finding a few areas that we didn’t think he’d notice.
Finally, he finds that one room that we don’t allow guests to enter. Call it a basement – call it what you will – but it’s a wreck in there, it smells of dirty laundry and feet, and nobody – and certainly not Jesus – is allowed to behold it!
So, although He wishes to enter, we simply steer Him past the locked door, hoping he’ll be content to gaze elsewhere. The evening is suddenly and seemingly ruined when Jesus says, “If you won’t let me into that locked door you’re trying to hide, I will not force myself. I’ll leave and I’ll only return when you’re ready to let me in.” And so he quietly leaves the house.
And that, my brothers and sisters, is the true story of how Advent most often works.
Each year Advent rolls around, and you and I do a bit of window dressing, you see. We move the confession to the front of the liturgy, give a little lip service about our deep yearning to receive the Prince of Peace – the Christ-Child all wrapped in swaddling clothes – and we get all warm and fuzzy inside. We even say we’re going to examine our consciences and take up some acts of charity. But lip service is often where my – where our – preparations end. Then, before you know it, time runs out; Christmastide arrives and we’ve simply moved on, missing once again the absolute treasure that Advent can bring into our lives.
If you – if I – really want Advent to be more meaningful this year, you and I have to consider unlocking that closed off room in the innermost depth of our hearts – that place of my secret shame, my horrible hurt and my suffocating sin – and then opening wide the door so that His love, His healing and His grace can begin to move in and take up residence.
You see, the Master isn’t really interested in coming to change the curtains and put on some new paint. Look out: He’s coming to tear the house down and do a total re-model!
And, in order to be totally remodeled – to really receive Him – we have to
unlock and open up, admitting once and for all our utter and absolute dependence on His love, forgiveness, mercy and grace. Getting in touch with that is what Advent is all about.
Evelyn Underhill, that great Anglican mystic of the twentieth century, says it best: “The true relation between the soul and God is one of childlike dependence.” “Well, then,” she continues, “be simple and dependent, acknowledge once for all the plain fact that you have nothing of your own, offer your life to God and trust Him with the ins and outs of your soul as well as everything else.”
That’s why the Church gives us these few weeks leading up to Christmas, my sisters and brothers – so that we can become dependent like a little child, trusting God with our souls – with every little inch and every nook and cranny.
Sorrow looks back, worry looks all around, but Christians open up and look up – we look up to the One upon whom we depend for light and life and health and peace.
“Born Thy people to deliver, Born a child and yet a King, Born to reign in us forever, Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.”
What are we going to do when the Master comes?
Sermon preached by the Reverend Charleston. D. Wilson
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota, Florida
The second Sunday of Advent
7 De
cember 2014