This sermon was preached by Rachel Dachenbach, Grand View elementary education and music major, in chapel on November 29, 2011. It is based on Mark 13-24-37.
“Please wait to be seated.”
“If you have been waiting for more than fifteen minutes, please check in with the receptionist.”“Loading…40%...this may take a few minutes. Please wait.”
Either our world is full of very patient people, or we are so far from patient that we need to be reminded to sit quietly, open a magazine, and wait for our name to be called. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.
I personally fall into that second category. Since July, I’ve been waiting (somewhat nervously, I must confess) for my chance to speak here today. The cast of Twelfth Night is anxiously awaiting their upcoming production. Football fans are eagerly waiting for playoffs and the Super Bowl, expectant mothers prepare for the birth of their children, and all of us here are on the edge of our seats as we try to survive “dead week” and finals to arrive at our much needed Christmas break. We do so while tapping our foot or folding our arms, with sighs or throat clears as though to say, “Is it my turn yet?”
Today’s gospel talks about waiting: waiting for the Lord. “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come.” “But in these days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
Woah. When I first heard these verses, they hit me like a ton of bricks. “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light.” God is not dropping in like your sister-in-law from out of town, for an afternoon cup of coffee, but rather, he is coming like the family in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. For those of you who have not seen it, there is a part where all the grandparents of the family come to the door just before Christmas. The doorbell rings ominously, and as the door opens, in swarms a host of relatives, stories, and suitcases. God is coming. He’s brought his luggage, and he’ll be here to stay. We are waiting for all of these things to take place, but what we are waiting for is more than just relatives at Christmas. We are waiting for something that we can’t exactly feel, can’t exactly picture, and can’t really anticipate the power of the events that are to take place.
“But about that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the son, but only the Father.” These words, as often as I’ve heard them, have often been met with somber gazes and looks of deep thought across many different groups of people and church congregations. It’s scary. Why? Because of the unknown. Because God isn’t a guest we have often, and when he comes, we can welcome him as best as we can, but we still wonder whether or not he will feel at home, want to stay, or even accept the hospitality mere humans can offer.
This passage used to be very frightening for me, and I feel that it is God’s will that I speak on it today. I worried that I wouldn’t be ready, that I would be found unworthy, or that I wouldn’t be accepted by the one whom I had called Lord for so long. But God led me through his word, and through him I have been taken from gloom into promise. Let me show you how.
“So, also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.” What can this mean for us? Jesus is referring to trials and tribulations that come with the end times. Yes, but instead of fear that makes us say, “Oh man, God is coming and I’ve been found unprepared,” he is nearby, “at the very gates,” saying, “Hold on, Rachel. Hold on Keyla. Hold on, Dr. Jones. I’m right here beside you.”
The Lord says, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” These verses blew me out of the water. Even through all the junk life hands us, even through any sort of doubt and confusion, God gives us his promise that even if the very sky begins to fall as it one day will, his word says that he will pick up the pieces and put it all back together, no matter how shattered and broken it has become. God does this for us, too. When we are at rock bottom in the muck and the mire, God places his hand fast around us, and pulls us through every terrible thing all the way back up to cloud nine. People recover from illness. People grieve and eventually make it through the loss of a loved one. People rebound from crimes that have been committed against them and learn to forgive, and all this is God’s promise that “His words will not pass away.”
Advent is upon us. It is a time of waiting for the Lord, waiting for the Christ child to come, but it is also a time for us to remember that while we are waiting, God is right there. So, let us wait. And wait. And wait some more. But let us not wait in fear, but rather in the promise that the Lord will come to us in the meantime. God is coming in glory. Heaven and earth will pass away, but God’s promise never will die. His promise to hold us fast in the storms that come with our wait can give us hope in times of fear, and joy in times of sorrow.
Martin Luther, in his Small Catechism, addresses the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “your kingdom come,” and says this: “God’s kingdom comes when our heavenly Father gives us His Holy Spirit, so that by his grace we believe in his holy Word, and live a godly life on earth now and in heaven forever.”
So let us pray for God’s kingdom to come, and while we wait upon the Lord, let us be strengthened in Word and in love for one another, and in this meal that God has sent for us that we are about to share. May we all find God in our lives here and now, while we wait. Amen.
