Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., marked the beginning of the Church year on the First Sunday of Advent, Nov. 28, 2010.

+ + +

Readings

Isaiah 2:1–5
Psalm 122 (antiphon v. 1)
Romans 13:11–14
Matthew 24:36–44

+ + +

Prayer

Prepare us, heavenly Father, for the day that is coming, so that we may stand ready to welcome your Son when he comes in glory and the power of your Holy Spirit. Amen.

+ + +

Message

I wonder, sometimes,
where I will be, what I’ll be doing,
when the Lord comes.
I even wonder whether I will live to see that day.
Of the hundreds of generations, the billions who have lived and died
in the last two millennia
since the days of our Lord’s earthly ministry,
Could we be the ones to see him
“come again in glory to judge the living and the dead?” (Nicene Creed, LBW, p. 84)

But to be honest with you,
I only really ever give Christ’s coming some serious thought
when I read passages from the Scriptures
like the ones we have heard today,
or if life’s circumstances remind me
of the inconvenient and inescapable truth of our deaths.

Most days, most of the times,
I just go about my life,
acting as if the river of days will flow on and on—
predictable, dependable, plannable.

But then someone I know dies,
maybe old and full of years,
or perhaps not so old, not quite so full as we had hoped.
Someone I know and love dies,
with places still to go and people yet to see.

Those are the hardest,
because then death leads me to stewing,
to thinking, “That could have been me.
What would I have done then?”

But even such thoughts about dying
don’t really lead me to giving my full attention
to the kinds of messages that God shares
with his people—both Israel and the Church—
in the readings for today.

Listen to a few verses from the lectionary.
Isaiah prophesies to the people:
“In days to come the mountain of the LORD’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains….
Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD….” (Isaiah 2:2a, 3b, NRSV)

The Psalmist sings out:
“I was glad when they said to me,
‘Let us go to the house of the LORD!’” (Psalm 122:1, NRSV)

St. Paul writes to the Church at Rome:
“Besides this, you know what time it is,
how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.” (Romans 13:11a, NRSV)

And finally, Jesus speaks to his disciples
in this passage from Matthew’s Gospel:
“Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know
on what day the Lord is coming. …
Therefore you also must be ready,
for the Son of Man is coming
at an unexpected hour.” (Matthew 24:42, 44, NRSV)

Well, that’s pretty clear.
The LORD calls his faithful people to gather around him,
to climb his holy mountain,
to come to his house.
And he blesses us with admonitions,
words to remind us of our task to watch and to wait:
after all, now’s the time to wake up;
now is the moment to be ready,
because the day is coming.

I remember, as a little child,
how much wonderful, aching anticipation I felt
as the season of Advent slowly made its way into our lives.

We lighted one candle, just one, that first week
and saw the Christmas decorations go up,
at home, throughout the neighborhood, and across town.
My brothers and I suspected secrets might kept from us.
But we weren’t sure.
We did know, though, that the waiting would be worth it
when we would finally celebrate Christmas.

Maybe we were just naïve, innocent, and inexperienced children,
but the simple things that filled us with awe and expectation
as little boys don’t seem, really, to work anymore when we are grown up.

I don’t want to be so jaded,
so worn and faded,
so stuck in the ruts of my routine
that I cannot feel that gnawing hunger
to have the wait be over
so that I can celebrate the day of joy.

Of course, as kids we all had those feelings about Christmas.
But what would it take for us
to feel the same way about the invitation
to go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to enter his house with cries of wonder and joy on our lips,
with our hearts just bursting within us,
filled so full of anticipation of that day
that we can not contain ourselves,
that we just exclaim uncontrollably,
“O my God, my LORD, Hallelujah!
Thank you for bringing me to your house.
It’s so good to be at home with you!”?

What would it take?
What could give us that faith like a child’s simple trust?

Partly that gift comes to us
when we get ready for it to come.
That’s why Saint Paul reminds the Church at Rome,
and through it, the whole Church, you and me,
that salvation is coming, and coming soon:
“The night is far gone, the day is near.”

And so he counsels us to get ready,
to be dressed for the day of the Lord,
to be busy doing our Lord’s work,
to be living in ways that please him:
“…put on the armor of light…
live honorably…
put on the Lord Jesus Christ,
and make no provisions for the flesh,
to gratify its desires.” (Romans 13:12–14, NRSV)

That helps.
Because if I dress myself in the Lord each day when I wake up,
and make no provisions for the flesh,
then my days will go altogether differently.

If I am clothed in him,
then the goal of my life
is not the perpetuation of my existence no matter what.
The point of our living is not, at all costs, to postpone dying,
to live as if we can perpetually sidestep our own God-given mortality.

No, but rather, the calling we hear
is to embrace the promise of life eternal,
to take on the task of getting ready for the Lord’s day.
After all, he reminds us,
“Keep awake therefore,
for you do not know on what day
your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42, NRSV)

There’s still time. It’s early.
He may bless us yet today with his coming.
And if he does, then we shall know
that he has heard and answered
the prayer we offer to him in his Meal:
“Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.” Amen.