Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri

Morning Worship · January 4, 2009

Second Sunday After Christmas

Prayer of the Day

Gracious and loving God, as we enter the new year and celebrate the birth of your Son, we pray that you will be our guiding light. Help us live our lives in response to you. Through Christ, we say together, Amen.

Scripture

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

Are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

For from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my   people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Message

Nine More Miles to Go

Jacob Thorne

I want to begin this morning by sharing with you a story about Elaine Pagels. Some of you, I know, are familiar with her works. Elaine is an influential church historian. Her research focuses primarily on the various Christian movements of the ancient world and what caused these movements to either succeed or fail. In one of her most popular books, Beyond Belief, Elaine also shares some of her personal story and her call to faith. 

As she grew up and entered adulthood, Elaine described herself as a secular, fairly-agnostic individual who never participated in a community of faith. Elaine was a scholar. She would analyze the history of a religion – its texts, its movements, and its settings. Essentially, Elaine kept Christianity, what she would term, at an academic distance.

But all this changed when Elaine experienced a terrible life-shattering and life-changing experience. In 1982, her only child, a son, was diagnosed with terminal lung disease. When Elaine asked how long her son had to live, the doctors could not or would not give her an answer. So, two days later, after the diagnoses, on a Sunday morning, after a sleepless night that consisted only of fear and worry, Elaine decided to go for an early-morning jog. It was a chilly February morning, and Elaine soon realized that she was underdressed. In an effort to warm up, Elaine decided, on a whim, to enter an Episcopal church in downtown Manhattan. She was startled by her response to the worship that was taking place. She heard the choir singing. She heard the prayers being said. Even though her rational, scholarly, and academic mind told her self to be skeptical, she knew, at that very moment, that she was on some sort of journey.

Elaine said, “I was aware that something very powerful had engaged me. I asked the question, ‘What is so powerful about it?’”

You see… Elaine was moving, both consciously and subconsciously, to that great power of the universe, the Spirit of the Living God. Elaine was on a journey that would engulf her, transform her, and change her life forever. Elaine wandered toward an experience of faith.

Five years later, in 1987, her son died. Then a year later, in a climbing accident, her husband was killed. Despite the tragedies, Elaine talks about how she continued on her spiritual journey, not yet aware of what she was seeking. Eventually, she remarried and had a daughter, Sarah. One night she came to rest where the star was shining. Listen to what she says.

 Last Christmas Eve, I went to the midnight service with my 16-year-old daughter. I found myself whole-heartedly singing the carols and listening to the stories of the child born in Bethlehem. On that night, my own associations with those stories seemed to be embraced in the joy of the festival. Attending to the sounds and the silence, the candlelight and the darkness, I felt celebration take us in and break over us like the sea. When it receded, it left me no longer clinging to particular movements in the past, but borne upon rays of love and gratitude that moved me toward Sarah, toward the whole community gathered there, at home or everywhere, the dead and the living. 

That night, on Christmas Eve, Elaine had arrived at her destination. She found what she was searching for. 

Perhaps you, too, are on a journey. Perhaps you are searching for something that you are not even aware of. Perhaps you are on the road to a discovery. There comes a time for all of us, when we search for that bright star that shines overhead. 

Today, in the Church calendar, we celebrate the day of Epiphany. This is the day that the three wise men, the Magi, conclude their search for the baby Jesus. As we listened to our Scripture this morning, we heard the story of the Magi told from the perspective of Matthew. But Matthew really wasn’t the first person to record the story of the three wise men coming from the East to Jerusalem. If you read Matthew closely, you will become aware that he was a lover of the ancient texts. He was aware there was a story before – a story that took place in Isaiah 60. It is a story of the wise men coming from the East.

In 580 B.C.E., 500 years before the story of Matthew and his story of the Magi, Jews, who had been living in exile in Iraq for several generations, were preparing to return to the land of their ancestors in Jerusalem. These grandchildren and great-grandchildren had heard stories of how glorious the city had been. Their expectations were high. But when they finally returned home, they must have been terribly disappointed. The entire city of Jerusalem lay in ruins. The temple had been destroyed. Homes no longer rested on their foundations.

But the prophet Isaiah did not tell his people to put their hopes elsewhere. Isaiah said, “Rise and shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has shone upon you. Nations shall come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn. They shall bring forth gold, and frankincense, and they shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.”

Jerusalem was to be the center of activity. The Jews from the East had reached their destination. So 500 years later, when Matthew tells the story of the Magi, repeating the prophet Isaiah, we, too, expect that once the wise men from the East arrive in Jerusalem, they will find their final destination. The wise men, like Matthew, know they are to take rare spices – gold, frankincense, and myrrh – and most importantly, the wise men know that they will find the new king of peace, Jesus, in Jerusalem.

But when King Herod, the current king of Jerusalem, hears the plan of the Magi, Matthew tells us that he is frightened. Herod responds by arranging a meeting. He asks the priests and the scribes, “Tell me about Isaiah 60. What is all this business about gold, frankincense, and myrrh? What can I expect?” 

Do you remember the response of the priests and the scribes? They told King Herod something like this: “Well, essentially, King Herod, you have the wrong text. The wise men that are here also have the wrong text. It’s not about Isaiah 60, King Herod. You don’t want Isaiah 60, because under Isaiah 60, Jerusalem will be restored with a new king.” 

Under a new king, of course, Herod wouldn’t exist. So, he asked the scholars, “Well, what should I do?”

Here the scholars, made up of the priests and the scribes, tell King Herod the correct text, actually, is Micah 5, which reads: “But you, O Bethlehem… from you shall come forth… the one who is to rule in Israel.”

During the time of King Herod, Bethlehem was a city that was located nine miles down the road from Jerusalem. Bethlehem was a city that was rough, and mean, and dirty. It probably wasn’t a city that you would want to visit. It was the complete opposite of Jerusalem, but the perfect place for a king, who was to be born among us, his people.

So, once Herod learns all of this, the story really becomes strange. Herod has a meeting with the Magi. He tells the Magi the truth. The Magi decide to listen to King Herod and to follow his advice. 

But when you think about it, this is really strange, because King Herod was known for persecuting the Jews. King Herod would brag about how many people he had executed. King Herod was not a person who could be trusted. King Herod was known to be a person who would dress as a peasant and walk the streets of Jerusalem. If he heard you slandering him or talking bad about him, he would go back to his palace, tell his guards, and have you executed the next day. All of the scholars of the ancient world say that King Herod was paranoid and could not be trusted. But for some reason, the wise men listened to King Herod. They headed to Bethlehem unsure of what they would find. 

The wise men had missed their destination by nine miles. Isn’t it strange that the wise men had to keep searching? After all, we would expect the wise men from the East would be the last people who would have to stop and reorient themselves and their lives.

Epiphany is a time when we, as individuals and as a community of faith, take the time to reorient ourselves and decide where we are headed. Sometimes we avoid that next step of faith, because we are afraid. We’re afraid of what we will find. We are afraid of what comes next. Some individuals will give up their dreams and settle for something a little less than what they expected, because they are uncomfortable with the risk they have to take. The fear of the unknown can cause you to be paralyzed.

Have you ever found yourself in that situation? Have you ever found yourself afraid and unsure of what next to do? Have you ever found yourself forced to go a little farther than you expected?

What I like so much about Elaine Pagels is that when she found herself enshrouded in the mystery of the Holy Spirit, she didn’t run. She didn’t stop. She didn’t reject what was taking place. She simply accepted that she was in a state of mystery, and that she had to continue searching for whatever it was that would lead her to the next destination.

The journey of the wise men was in part, no doubt, a geographical journey. But it was also a journey of the heart. It was a journey in which they were led by God. 

In her book, Firstlight, Sue Monk Kidd tells a story of visiting a nursing home at the age of 12 with her youth group. She writes:

Frankly, I was there under duress. My mother had not heard my pleas that I should be spared the unjust sentence of visiting a nursing home when my friends were enjoying the last day of summer vacation at the summer swimming pool. Smarting from inequity, I stood before this ancient-looking woman, holding a bouquet of paper flowers. Everything about her saddened me: the worn-down face, the lop-sided grin, the tendrils of gray hair protruding from a crocheted lavender gap. I thrust the bouquet at her, and she looked at me with a look that pierced me to the marrow of my 12-year-old bones. Then she spoke the words that I haven’t forgotten in all of these years, “You didn’t want to come. Did you, child?” The words stunned me. They were too painful, too powerful, too naked in their honesty. 

“Oh, yes, I wanted to come,” I protested. 

A smile lifted one side of her mouth. “It’s OK,” she said. “You can’t force the human heart.”

I hated her for the rebuke. Then I passed it off as a harmless twittering of an old woman. Years later, though, as I began to follow the labyrinth of my spiritual journey, I discovered the truth in her words. “You can’t force the heart.”

How often do we set out to love the world, to travel boldly, to try new adventures, only to give up, feeling exasperated, unappreciated, and unwanted? A journey of the heart is a journey full of rugged battles. Sometimes we have to go nine more miles. We have to turn to God and be enshrouded in a mystery that we might not even understand. There are difficulties and obstacles that we have to overcome. 

The heart is the place where we are most human. The heart contains our moods, our feelings, our emotions, our passions, and also our intuitions, insights, and visions. Sometimes, in our heart, we hear the competing voices. One voice tells us to do whatever it takes to get ahead, to be the best, to stop at nothing. Another voice tells us to slow down, to pay attention to our surroundings, to be still and listen to the voice of God. In order to have an open heart and to move to new places, we have to stand open to God with all of our questions, with all that we are, and all that we have. To do so requires a great act of trust and confidence. We must be willing to admit that we may be forced to reorient ourselves and start out for a new direction. At first, we may not understand what is taking place. The word “epiphany” literally means to see something new for the first time – to see a great light.

As we enter the new year, I invite you to be intentional about creating space for God in this new year. Begin a new journey. Awaken yourself to the God who lives within you. Follow the bright light that leads you to God no matter where it may be.  Let God enter into your heartbeat and your breathing. Let God enter into your thoughts and your emotions, into your hearing, seeing, touching, and tasting. Let God transform your life and lead you to places you didn’t even expect to visit. When we say “yes” to that great Spirit of the Living God, we acknowledge that our lives may never, ever be the same.

Through Christ, we say together… “Amen.”

Benediction

God of the Journey, let the very year, ending in 9 – 2009 – remind us daily that we are your people! We are here because of you and for you. As we journey together, give us the insight and stamina to go the extra 9 years and even 9 miles, to fully enter into your presence. Amen.