December 9, 2007

Advent 2 A

Romans 15:4-13

Hope. It's a major theme of the Advent season, The name of the second candle on the Advent wreath. Hope is a word that gets used a lot outside of church, too, at this time of year as we get into the swing of the festivities: "I hope I get an I-Phone for Christmas." "I hope there won't be any fights when the family gets together this year." Hopefully, I'll get the Christmas cards done this weekend."

When we use the word "hope" in these ways, what we really mean is "I wish."

The kind of hope that the Apostle Paul is talking about in his letter to the Roman Christians is more than optimism and wishful thinking.

It is more than our wants, more than our timid dreams and tentative expectations.

It is more than a psychological necessity to help us cope with the ups and downs of life. Biblical hope appeals to a deeper reality, a reality beyond what we can see. Hope is not a kite, buffeted about by the winds that turn it to and fro, but an anchor that secures our life line to the Living God, who is willing and able to keep all the divine promises.

It isn't Scripture, but Emily Dickinson's poem about hope points to this deeper reality.

"HOPE [she writes] is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul-
And sings the tune without the words-
And never stops - at all."

These words, taped to my computer monitor, kept my hope alive during the two long years I was interviewing for my first call as a pastor. As I struggled with disappointment and self-doubt, finishing in the runner-up spot six times, I wondered what God was up to. Had I misread the signs, misheard God's call? The thing with feathers in my heart just kept singing up a storm; I couldn't turn off the soundtrack even when I wanted to. That song was the sound of hope. In God's good time, Family of Christ was ready for me and I for you, and our shared hope and God's steadfastness came to roost on the same perch.

Today the children of this Family presented the Advent-Christmas gospel in Word and song. Children are special conveyers of hope: their lives are filled with it. They beckon us to draw near, let down our guard, listen, and live in hope.

Our animal friends can do the same thing.

Mary Lou Redding tells a story about a dog friend of hers, a golden retriever named Luther, who has given her an imag

e of hope. "Luther [she writes] is a very large dog, well over 100 pounds. He walks his owner every day in a park-like area near my home. Retrievers are hunting dogs, of course, and Luther enthusiastically embodies his heritage. He hunts moles, chipmunks, and squirrels with great joy, occasionally catching one if he lunges when his human is not expecting Luther's powerful tug on the leash. One autumn morning, Luther and his owner were walking near a stand of trees that is home to many squirrels. On this particular morning, something wonderful, rare and totally unexpected happened:

A squirrel fell out of a tree, right in front of Luther. He had only to pounce. He was astounded - and overjoyed. From that moment on, Luther has believed that squirrels fall out of trees. The next morning, and for many mornings after, Luther approached that stand of trees with his eyes lifted, a-quiver with anticipation. He would stop every few feet and look up with eager attention, waiting for a squirrel to fall in front of him.

"What if you and I [Redding wonders] walked through life with that kind of expectation, waiting for God to show up in the midst of our daily activities, for gifts of grace and healing to fall into our lives so close we can reach out and touch them? What would be different if we lived that way? Living in hope and expectation does not mean that we do nothing...Luther has not given up chasing squirrels...But he...still pauses from time to time to gaze longingly at the branches overhead. Who knows? It could happen again. And when it does, Luther will be ready, because he knows that sometimes squirrels do fall out of trees. He knows and appreciates with all the energy of his nature that wonderful, unexpected, and totally undeserved gifts can come into our lives.

Wonderful things happen, [Redding continues]. Most of the time, they come after we've done a lot of work; but sometimes, like Luther's squirrel or like the coming of the baby at Christmas, they are pure gift...In this season of hope, we are invited to look for the wonders that show us God is still at work in our world and in us. "What will you give me?" we ask. Hope holds with it the promise that God always answers our questions by showing up, not necessarily with what we ask for but with remarkable gifts that change our lives and the world."

May the God of hope fill us with all joy and peace in believing, so that we may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Rev. Kristie Hennig
Chanhassen, Minnesota

Mary Lou Redding, While We Wait: Living the Questions of Advent, 24-25.