Springwood Presbyterian Church: Whitsett, NC

Tom Long has spent most of his ministry teaching preachers to preach, first at Princeton Theological Seminary, and now at Candler School of Theology at Emory University.  He also often leads workshops around the country on preaching and worship.  At the end of one such workshop, after two days of talking about interesting ways to approach a sermon and make worship a truly spiritual experience, he invited questions.  One man’s concern wasn’t about the merits of various forms for a sermon, nor whether the offering should come before or after the sermon, nor how often communion should be celebrated.  Rather, he wanted Dr. Long’s opinion on announcements—including prayer requests--during the worship service.  The questioner believed such mundane matters distract from the focus we should have on God—that they bring worshippers down from a spiritual “high” of “Holy, Holy, Holy!  Lord God Almighty!” to the “lowly, lowly, lowly” of budgets and times for circle meetings and calls for volunteers and who had what surgery.

Long disagreed, and cited this morning’s Gospel text as his reason.  The Christian faith is grounded and centered in our belief that, in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…And the Word became flesh and lived among us.  God came into human history as a human being because God cares about us and the dayliness of our world—and expects us to do the same: to care about, and to care for trees, and cows, and especially people—in all our beauty and ugliness, our joy and sorrows, our very ordinariness.

Having seen how, over the centuries, the people disregarded God’s message spoken by the prophets and written in the scriptures, God decided to communicate with us in person.  Indeed, isn’t communication best in person rather than by letter or email or even reaching out to touch by telephone?

Jesus is the way God speaks to us: God’s Word to the world—God’s Word in the world—God’s Word for the world, in person: in the flesh, living here on earth, among us.  The Greek word we translate “dwells” or “lives” literally means he pitched his tent by ours—he moved in next door, and there’s not even a fence between our yards.  We are neighbors with Jesus.  Not only do we see God’s glory in him; but, even more important to us on a day-to-day basis, we see God’s mind and heart and hands reaching out, by trusting God’s Word: Jesus Christ.

The thought of trusting someone’s words might make you raise an eyebrow and smirk.  We live in a world where words are cheap.  Marriage vows don’t last.  Promises are easily broken.  Politicians write speeches for maximum flexibility and maximum deniability.  Advertisers boast of new and improved versions of the same old things.  Legal contracts become longer and more complicated, trying to find ways to make people stand by their words. 

We can, however, trust God’s Word in flesh, because we can identify with Jesus: person just like us in most ways.  He experienced joy and sadness and anger.  He lived with some success, and much failure.  He knew the good and the bad in each of us.  The difference between him and us is, through it all, he remained faithful to God, to be the expression of God’s great love for us: to assure us that God is always with us in ways we can understand. 

You may have heard the tale of the little girl who woke up from a nightmare crying.  Her mother comforted her and then told her to go back to sleep.  The child asked, “But what if the bad dream comes back?”  Mother assured her God would be with her and keep her safe.  The little girl’s bottom lip trembled as she said, “But I need somebody here with skin on!”  God’s Word comes to us with skin on, to keep at bay the darkness of fear and evil, of sorrow and confusion. 

God’s Word in Jesus also shows us our own potential for great faithfulness, for God asks us to speak to the world the same way God speaks to us: personally and lovingly--to be present for others--to try to see the world through their eyes, just as Jesus did for us--to demonstrate by our relationship with them that God is present in the midst of their suffering--to love our enemies and become instruments of justice and peace.  Dr. Long’s point was that announcements in church are a way we become aware of the woes and joys of the world, and give us a means to bear Christ into the places and to the people who need him.

One day between Christmas and New Year’s, a friend took her daughter out to breakfast at a bagel shop.  They waited in line at the counter, ordered orange juice and a bagel each (toasted, with cream cheese, please.)  When their order was ready, my friend handed the clerk her credit card, only to be told, “Cash only.”

          “Oh, I thought everybody took plastic,” she said.  “I’ve only got fifty cents on me.  Could I bring the money back?”

          Well, when would she come back?  The food would have to stay at the shop.  She should have known the store policies before she ordered.

          The morning, which had begun as a pleasant holiday outing for mother and daughter, had become an uncomfortable, embarrassing failure.  My friend was ready to slink out the door when the man behind her reached forward, handed her five dollars, and said, “Merry Christmas!”

          “Oh, no,” she protested.  “You don’t have to do that.  We’re not going to go hungry.  We can always go home and eat.”

          He continued to smile, hand outstretched, and repeated, “Merry Christmas!”  She reports that never has a bagel tasted so good, never has the sun shone so brightly.  The Word in flesh pushed back the darkness with a simple act of kindness.  

Church of the Cross in Greensboro, where I served before beginning interim ministry, had a daycare center for low-income families.  For several years, a young med student asked me to choose a family she could help with some Christmas gifts.  The year she was a resident in emergency medicine at NC Memorial—working 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. for days on end—she turned up at my house on Christmas Eve morning at 6:30, her backseat filled with beautifully wrapped gifts for the 3 children and their mother. 

Kimberly looked exhausted: dark circles under her eyes, skin gray.  I invited her in for coffee before she headed back for her shift, but, no, she barely had time to make the drive to Chapel Hill, because she was going to cover the end of a fellow resident’s shift so that doctor could catch a flight home for Christmas. 

I thanked her for giving so much of her little money and less time to make Christmas special for this family.  She broke into a smile and her weary eyes brightened.  “This,” she said, “is what makes Christmas special for me.  Thank you for letting me do it!”  The Word in person pushes back the darkness.

A few years ago, Y Bler Buonya died of cancer.  He was young—somewhere in his 20’s—no one knew for sure.  He had lived in Greensboro for 6 years, a refugee from the war in Southeast Asia.  Y Bler’s parents, members of the Montagnard Central Highland resistance movement which was allied with the US during the wars in Vietnam and Cambodia, died when he was a toddler, and for the next 15 years—his entire youth—Y Bler lived in the jungle with other Montagnard rebels, fighting the Vietnamese government that had overrun their homeland.  Amid war and hunger and moving constantly from place to place, some of the adult Montagnards passed on their Christian faith to him, and taught him to read and write, using a Bible as his text book, both in the jungle and in a series of refugee camps in Thailand. 

Shortly after moving to Greensboro, he met Gray and Janet Clark—Gray’s a Presbyterian minister there.  Y Bler and the Clarks fell in love with each other, and he ended up living with the Clarks.  During his year-long struggle with cancer, he was embraced with love and support from Gray and Janet and their children, numerous other Americans who came to know him, as well as the many Montagnards who now live in Greensboro. 

Death is sad, especially of one so young.  But after living his early years in the gloom of war and loss, Y Bler spent his last years in light, surrounded by people who loved him and who gave him of themselves.  For those years, the Word in flesh pushed back the darkness.  

Because the Word became flesh and dwells among us, our own lives have powerful new possibilities—as does this congregation.  Can you envision them?  You become the Word of God with skin on each time you reach out in Christ’s name in ways large or small.  This is a Word you can trust, for underneath are the everlasting arms …  the Word in flesh [who] lives among us.