My homily for December 15, 2018
The Scripture Verses were:
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Isaiah 12:2-6
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:7-18
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One of my all-time favorite Christmas movies Bridgett Jones Diary. My friend, Katie, and I try to watch it every year. Bridget is this woman turned thirty who can’t seem to catch a break on life. Mark Darcy is the anti-love interest who turns out to be the love interest. It’s kind of a modern day re-telling of Pride and Prejudice.
There’s this scene about half way through that becomes the turning point. She goes to a dinner party and is the only single woman there. Feels terrible, and on her way out, Mark Darcy come to the entry stairs to say good-bye. He says a few things that are horribly offensive, and she finally cuts him off. She knows she’s flawed, she recognizes her faults, and doesn’t need someone to remind her of them. But Mark Darcy continues. He recognizes her faults, he knows she’s not perfect, but he wants to tell her… He likes her. “I like you. Very much. Just as you are.”
She leaves the house, stunned. Later, she talks it over with her friends, and they say, “Just as you are? Not if only you could be more skinny, or more pretty, or if you talked less?”
Bridgett shakes her head. “Just as I am.”
“And this is the one we hate, right?”
“Right.”
I watch that scene every year and think, this nails how many of us feel most of the time. I really don’t need a person to point out all of my flaws. I’m almost always aware of them already. In fact, if you asked me to list the top five things I feel badly about just this week, I could name them without hardly thinking.
I feel bad that I snapped at John when he took the cup holder out the car. I said, “You’re always taking things apart.” It’s not true, and it really wasn’t a big deal. I hurt his feelings and there was really no need to.
I feel terrible that I snapped at a student the other day, and didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. In hindsight, I wish I’d been more generous.
I lost my patience with my own children, and instead of using kindness to woo them into compliance, I used anger, and I regret it.
I yelled at a driver on the road. I ignored a homeless person’s request for help. I worried too much about finances. I spent too much time on my phone.
I know many of my failings. I’m quiet aware that I am a sinner. I’m aware, every day that I need help outside of my own strength to be the kind of person I ache to be.
When we talk of repentance, we often talk about turning away from our sin, don’t we? When we mention repentance it’s common to immediately think of all the negative things we’ve done and how we need to quit doing them. And this, quite frankly gets exhausting. To always know you never measure up and that you’re always supposed to feel bad about yourself.
We don’t often think of repentance as coming home.
Yet, we all have a deep longing for home. I’ve had several moments in my life when I’ve suffered extreme homesickness. When I’ve ached for home so deeply, my very bones hurt. I’ve been so far from home, metaphorically and physcically, that I’ve wondered if I’d ever belong anywhere again. I have spent several Christmas eve’s weeping, longing to go home. Once, in the middle of Balboa Panama, living on a ship. It was hot and tropical and I wanted my mother.
Several years ago now, my first Christmas in Chile, I cried myself to sleep so homesick I thought I might die. I wanted to go back to my people, to my church. I wanted to be with the ones who knew me and loved me, just as I was.
Which is exactly what home is, isn’t it? The place where you belong, just as you are. The place where there is a spot at the table just for you, flaws and all. Where you are known, and accepted just as you are.
Coming home.
Home means you have a place, that you belong, where you are not a stranger or a guest, and especially not a servant.
At Advent we celebrate the announcement of Emmanuel, of God with us.
Galatians says,
For when the time had fully come, God sent his son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those under the law that we might receive the full rights of children.
At Advent, we are reminded that in the house of God, you are not merely tolerated, the Good News is that the One, the Ancient of Days invites you to come home. Not only does God invite you to come to God, but God comes and makes God’s home among us. In this mysterious way, Jesus himself becomes your home. This Jesus came and dwelt among us.
Repentance is, of course, a time when we look at our life and ask God if we’ve been offensive and ask forgiveness. Where we confess our sins.
But the whole of repentance is much bigger than that. It’s far more comprehensive than that.
Repentance is also a willingness to receive God’s good, strong love.God’s extravagant love that says … Come, just as you are. Come.
Here in Zephaniah, we are told that God delights over us, and sings over us like in a Festival. There is even a connotation of spinning over us in love. Zephaniah speaks of extravagent, unabashed, reckless love.
I have this dog. Her name is Olive. Every time after I’m away, when I walk in the front door, the back door, or the garage door, Olive jumps and spins and dances around the kitchen, so glad that I’ve come home.
Is it right to compare God’s love for you to the way that Olive dances over me when I come home? Sure it is. God uses all kinds of metaphors in scripture to help us see how much God love us. The shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one. The Prodigal Son. The widow who looks for a lost coin, is the way God searches for you when you’ve gone too far from home.
God delights over you with singing and dancing. And welcomes you home with love and hope, with forgiveness and a place that is just for you.
I’ve been a Christian for many years, and still, it is so easy to forget how much God loves me. That God loves me with an extravagent love, that God breaks into song over me, particularly when I come home. Repentance, therefore, is not simply deciding to stop doing the bad things and confess our sins to God. That’s not enough. Repentance is also the remembering. It’s when we catch the sound of God’s whisper reminding you to come home , that it’s safe to come home. That you are loved, and that you haven’t wandered too far. There is still a place for you in the house of God.
Now, you might dare to ask, “In light of that kind of love, what do I do?”
Many people asked John the Baptist the same thing. The kingdom of God is upon us, what should we do?
His answer was simple, “If you have two cloaks, give one away.” Be generous.
If you are an accountant for the Government, don’t take more money than you should and pocket a bunch in secret. Be fair. Do justly.
If you are a soldier, and your life is not your own. You deserve a good wage, but don’t complain about the wages you’re given. Be content.
In light of the extravagent love of God that welcomes you home, Be generous with your life. Do justly. Seek to be content.
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