Labels & Boxes - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 11:16-30 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

16 “But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,

17 ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;
    we wailed, and you did not mourn.’

18 For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; 19 the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

25 At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

28 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

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I preached this sermon for our pre-recorded Morning Prayer for July 5, 2020 at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida. It is preached to a specific people in a specific time and place, but I believe that God can transcend that and I hope it might also speak to you. You can listen to the raw recording of the sermon here.

If you are one of my friends who forced me to go to Chick-fil-A that day in seminary, then I'm still kind of mad at you because Chick-fil-A has trash politics. And also lol, I was so pretentious back then (still am). 

One of my favorite stories from seminary was one of the first times my husband and I spent time off campus. We went to a fast food restaurant with a few other people we barely knew, and started chatting like new friends do. Everyone was asking different questions rapid fire about each other’s lives: are you a liberal or conservative, where are you from, what denomination are you, were you a camp counselor, did you attend campus ministry? 

These were all questions that were seemingly innocuous, but had a very specific purpose. They would put each of us in a certain “box.” Each question said enough about the one answering to allow everyone else to make broad assumptions about them. I got quiet during parts of the conversation and Daniel asked why. “I don’t like labels,” I said, “I’d rather people just get to know me instead of putting me in some kind of box.” 

It has been seven or so years since that conversation, but Daniel, my husband, brings it up every so often when I label myself in some way. “I thought you hated labels” he’ll say. “No,” I reply, “I hate the box.” 

Right before the gospel text we hear this morning, Jesus has instructed his twelve disciples and sent them on their way. Then John the Baptizer, who is in jail, sends word that Jesus is out preaching and sends all of his followers to go listen to him. John’s disciples question Jesus and Jesus sends them back to John, telling them to tell John everything they’d heard and seen: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.

Then Jesus begins speaking to the crowds that had gathered around him. This is where our reading for this morning picks up: right in the middle of Jesus’ teaching. He seems annoyed that people continue to question him and John the Baptizer, even though the people had seen great signs being performed by these men. Still they doubted. But why? 

It’s easy for us to see, 2000 years removed, that Jesus was fulfilling all sorts of prophecies, so it’s unfathomable that the people wouldn’t believe that he was the Son of God. But people had… expectations of the messiah. When someone came with the label “messiah,” there was a box that people put him in. 

“What is the messiah supposed to look like?” Jesus asks. John came and lives an austere lifestyle: he didn’t eat or drink like an old-school prophet and people doubted him— more than that, they said he had a demon!

Then on the other hand, Jesus came and ate and drank and gathered with sinners and people called him a glutton and a drunkard. 

What then, was the messiah supposed to look like? Jesus asks. 

Jesus seems a bit frustrated by being forced into box because of who he associates with and people’s pre-judgements about who the messiah is. He calls the crowd foolish children playing in the market. 

They cannot see the truth that is right in front of them. The truth of Jesus’ true identity. 

I think about all of the ways people are misunderstood today due to stereotypes. We assume we know something based on a tiny detail, like where she grew up or where they went to school, or their gender or his age or the color of his skin— any number of things that do not capture the complexity of how we are as individuals. And these stereotypes that we assign to people, these boxes that we put them into based on these small aspects of their lives, can be dangerous. At the very least, it takes away from the unique child that God knit as an individual. And in some cases it leads to discrimination and violence, it has even led to the genocide of entire peoples. 

In Jesus’ case, the assumptions that his community and the religious authorities made about him led to his arrest and death. Because they didn’t recognize Jesus for who he really was— a child of God, THE child of God, the messiah.

How often do we do this? Pre-judging people for the company that they keep, the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, or where they are from. How often has it lead to deep and abiding pain in our community, our country, and our world? 

Yet Jesus says that wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. 

And we worship a God who DID something. We worship a God who broke all of the preconceived notions of a deity and become flesh in the form of a tiny baby to a poor unknown family. We worship a God who threw off the labels of the world and gave sight to the blind, healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, raised the dead, and brought good news to the poor. We worship a God who takes the stereotypical and prejudiced boxes of this world, turns them upside down, and smashes them to bits. 

We worship a God who peels away the labels of our lives, peels away the labels that we have given ourselves and the ones that have been forced upon us. And declares that the labels of this world are nothing. And we worship the God who took nothing… and made everything. 

God, who created the entire expanse of the universe washes us so completely the waters of baptism and then declares, “You are my beloved. You are my child. Look at what I have done for you.”

And then God invites us into the story. To look beyond the boxes of sin, death, and the devil and begin to imagine and understand the world that God has promised to us and has begun in us through Christ Jesus. A world without labels or boxes, except the only true one identity that matters: you are a child a God. Amen. 

The Anticipatory Grief of Jesus - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 21:1-11 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3 If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.”  This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,

“Tell the daughter of Zion,
Look, your king is coming to you,
    humble, and mounted on a donkey,
        and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

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This sermon was preach by me, Pastor Sarah Locke in a specific context for a specific people, but I think it can speak in different times to different folks as well. You can read the sermon below, or listen to it at this link.

You can also watch the worship video below:

Let us pray. 

God of mercy and consolation, you have felt our every grief and desperation in your own son Jesus Christ. Let us take comfort in his presence and in your saving power on this day and always. Amen. 

This is an odd time to be a campus chaplain. Along with almost every other profession and vocation, we are having to adapt to a new normal and I’m figuring out what ministry looks like when I can’t be present with any of my students. So every week we gather together for Food for Thought… over video conferencing. 

This past week we were checking in with one another and one of our students mentioned having a hard time planning anything. She said, “it feels like the worst is still yet to come and it’s hard to believe there is anything that will be worth planning after this. I think I have forgotten how to hope.” 

We’ve had a lot of plans cancelled and a lot of our normal life upended in the past several weeks and I’ve felt similar to this student in the past week. How do we continue to live our lives and plan for the future when things feel so immediate and dangerous and futile? I started to do some reading about this feeling of hopelessness. It turns out that a LOT of people are feeling this way. And this odd discomfort about the future is actually a form of grief. 

David Kessler, an expert on grief, describes what we are feeling as two different kinds of grief. We are feeling regular grief— the grief of things lost, people dying, normal live changing, and plans being cancelled. But we are also feeling another kind of grief called anticipatory grief.

When I hear this story about Jesus on Palm Sunday, that is what comes to mind— grief. We know this story well. We hear a version of it every year on Palm Sunday. So it might not make complete sense that I find grief in this story. After all, it seems like one of the few times Jesus is celebrated for who he is— the Lord and Savior of God’s people. 

But Jesus has been on this journey from the very beginning. He knows that it will only end one way. So I can only imagine that he has some really complicated feelings as he gave these instructions to his disciples and rode into the city among the crowd shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

On the one hand, I am sure that he feels a certain amount of pride and happiness in being among his people, in being welcomed into the city by crowds who are calling out to him. 

But what these people are shouting is “Hosanna” which means, “Help us now!” They were shouting to God for assistance in their plight, their oppression under the Roman Empire. They were asking for a political revolution, not a spiritual one. Jesus knew this and knew that that is not what he would offer them. 

So I can only imagine that Jesus also felt an immense amount of grief. Because with every step that colt took into the city, Jesus got closer and closer to what would seem like unbearable disappointment and abandonment to his friends, family, and followers. With every step, Jesus got further and further away from people’s expectations of the Messiah. As he made his way into the city, he got closer and closer to losing his dignity and insecurity. He got closer to the unknown and maybe even feelings of anger and fear and anxiety. And as he made his way into that city, he got closer and closer to death.

What grief Jesus must be feeling in the midst of this grand parade, not only for himself but for everyone around him. 

The grief expert I mentioned earlier, David Kessler, says that: 

“Anticipatory grief is that feeling we get about what the future holds when we’re uncertain. Usually it centers on death. We feel it when someone gets a dire diagnosis or when we have the normal thought that we’ll lose a parent someday. 

“Anticipatory grief is also more broadly imagined futures. There is a storm coming. There’s something bad out there. With a virus, this kind of grief is so confusing for people. Our primitive mind knows something bad is happening, but you can’t see it. This breaks our sense of safety. We’re feeling that loss of safety. I don’t think we’ve collectively lost our sense of general safety like this. Individually or as smaller groups, people have felt this. But all together, this is new. We are grieving on a micro and a macro level.”

In the same way that Jesus is walking into a future that is largely unknown to the entire world and one that will change everything forever, we are doing the same thing. 

I’ve heard so many people lamenting this week, saying that this is the first year that they can remember when they won’t be in the church for Holy Week. And we don’t know what to do. We are being faced with a big question mark in our lives right now. We don’t know what the next week will entail and there is a lot of stress and grief being held in our bodies right now. We, too, are walking through the city gates into the unknown of of a dangerous Jerusalem. 

Perhaps it is an odd thing to admit, but it does bring me a bit of comfort to imagine that Jesus experienced similar anxiety, fear, and grief as he made his way into the city. And yet he continued. He continued on his journey toward the cross because of his love for the people shouting to him, waving palm branches, and laying their cloaks on the ground for him. He continued because of his love for the people who had followed him for many years and provided for him, loved him, and did ministry with him. He continued knowing that love is often uncomfortable, unbearable, and undignified in the face of real crisis. He continued into Jerusalem and eventually to his death on a cross because he knew that that is the cost of love. He knew that is was the only way to save us all. 

So as we remember that day when he went into the city amid shouts of “Hosanna!” We too are shouting, or perhaps sighing in grief, the same sentiment: “Save us now, God.” And we continue into the unknown in grief, anxiety, and fear for the love of our neighbors, trusting in the knowledge that God has saved us in Christ Jesus, now and forever. Amen. 

What we do matters - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 5:13-20 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

Salt and Light

13 “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.

14 “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15 No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

The Law and the Prophets

17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19 Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

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The following is the sermon originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church for the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany on February 9, 2020. You can read the manuscript below, or listen to the sermon (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. You should definitely listen to the sermon, though, because it's way better than this manuscript. 

God of everlasting light, encourage us to reveal your love and Christ’s holiness to the entire world through our actions every day. Sustain us by your own grace and mercy. Amen. 

I think I have said it in every sermon during this season, but it worth repeating: the season of Epiphany is all about Jesus being revealed as the Son of God and the savior of the world. This season is about the proof that God came into this world to save this world through Christ Jesus. It is a joyous season, and one that is full of good imagery of light and revelation. 

But this gospel text doesn’t seem to have much of anything to do with Jesus. On the contrary, the text is part of the Sermon on the Mount when Jesus teaches his followers. It seems that this text is less about Jesus and a whole lot more about us. 

For a season that is supposed to focus on the spreading of the gospel to the whole world that Jesus Christ came into the world to save the whole world, this text doesn’t really seem like it fits. 

But when Christ comes into the world as a tiny baby on Christmas morning, it is not Christ himself who goes around telling people what has happened. It’s all of the faithful people witnessing the night— it’s the wise men and the shepherds, it’s the innkeeper. 

When Mary brings Jesus to the temple for presentation, it’s not Jesus himself proclaiming that God has done marvelous things, it’s those who have waited and watched for so long, Simeon and Anna. 

When Jesus begins his ministry near the Jordan, he is not the one pointing to himself and causing a raucous. It’s someone else, this voice in the wilderness called John the Baptizer. 

It seems, throughout history, there are countless voices calling out and proclaiming that Christ is the savior of the world, come to save the world. Even now, we hear people proclaiming this truth in every aspect of our lives. 

Our very own mission statement for Redeemer is “Love God and bring people to Christ.” We are called to proclaim this truth as well. But how to we do it? I think it’s one of those questions that might take the entire year to tackle, and I definitely know I’ll be talking about it again next week. How, exactly, do we bring people to Christ? 

During our first dinner on campus this semester, I bought tons of pizza and drinks for the students and we had a party. It was wonderful. People had caught wind of the pizza party— or they could smell it from down the hallway— and we had over twenty students at our very first dinner. It was wonderful. As we were eating and catching up, another student walked in and asked if he could grab some pizza. “Of course!” We exclaimed! “Come join us!” He grabbed four pieces of pizza, a cup of soda, and promptly left. 

My students were furious. But not for the reason you might think. You see, they wanted desperately to share their fellowship with him. They wanted him to join because they love the community they’ve created there.

The students wanted to tell this student about their love and their community, but instead they had to simply demonstrate it by allowing someone to come into their community and be welcomed, regardless of his response. All they could do was let their light, the light of Christ, shine through their radical hospitality for this student. About twenty minutes later, in the middle of our conversation about this radial hospitality we are called to share with all people we encounter, the student came back— with his girlfriend— and grabbed two more slices of pizza. But instead of being angry, or perhaps in spite of being angry, our students smiled and greeted them, inviting them to take a cookie or two as well. 

There’s no telling whether or not that student and his girlfriend will come back to any of our gatherings or if they could name their experience as a proclamation of the fellowship of Christ Jesus, but that is what our group students demonstrated that evening. Instead of simply saying we are a welcoming community, they demonstrated it. They put their light on a lamp stand for the whole household to see and let their light shine before others, so that they may see their good works. Good works that reflect the love that Christ has for the entire world.

It does, of course, matter what we say and what we believe. This is of utmost importance. It is why we spend so much time learning about Jesus on Sunday mornings, in our small groups, and in catechism class. But what the world sees are the things that we do. 

What Jesus describes in his sermon on the mount is not about the proper way to talk about the coming of the kingdom of God. He doesn’t give us an outlines of how to construct a good sermon or the points we need to make to convince someone of the gospel truth. Perhaps it would be easier for us to talk about our faith if he had. “Top seven things to say to convince someone to become a Christian!” 

No, what Jesus teaches in the sermon on the mount is not about words. It’s about action. There’s a reason the bishop’s Way of Love consists of seven VERBS. Revealing God’s love in Christ Jesus to the entire world has very little to do with our words, and almost everything to do with our actions. 

I’ve been here at Redeemer for almost a year, and I am so encouraged by how we share God’s love with the world through action. The light of Christ shines so brightly through ministries like the food pantry and the support you give to the campus ministry. You can taste the good wonderful saltiness of this congregation in the HOPE outreach ministries the partnerships nurtured there. It would be easy to hide our light under a bushel basket or keep it to ourselves, but instead we have Ladies Night and Grill and Chill that invites people in from the community. We have a youth ministry that so faithfully shares the love of God with young people. 

And in our individual lives, I have heard beautiful stories of God’s light shining through you. And what I think he truly beautiful about this community is that we do it because we want to share the love of Christ with people. We are truly devoted to the mission of the church in loving God and bringing people to Christ. 

Let us continue to go forth into the world, revealing to the world God’s incredible light, the son God gave to us and to the whole world for the salvation of all people. Amen. 

Prepare to Repent - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 3:1-12 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

The Proclamation of John the Baptist

3 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”
x

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida on December 8, 2019. You can read the manuscript below, and/or you can listen to the sermon (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Are you ready? It’s December 8th already. We only have 17 days until Christmas. Panicking yet? 

Even if the weather does not quite show it, it appears that Christmas time is here. Christmas music is playing on the radio, all the displays are out, I saw last Sunday night that Santa is at the mall waiting for his picture to be taken. 

For our college students at UNF and JU, it means finals week is upon us, some of them are graduating, other are gearing up for the seasonal holiday hours at their job. 

For others it means finishing up projects at work or bracing yourself for your children to be out for Christmas break. 

There always seems to be an abundance of things to do to prepare for Christmas: Making lists, checking them twice, if you’re my mother, you’re running around making sure everyone has the exact same number of gifts under the Christmas tree. Lots of other people are still decorating, baking, cooking, and traveling. 

Preparing for Christmas seems a bit more like a sprint than a marathon and, as a pastor, by the end of it, I’m winded and ready to never do it again… until next year. 

But preparing for Christmas seems to look very different than preparing for the coming of Jesus. 

In the text this morning, we hear the words of John the Baptizer, the man who was called and sent to prepare people for the coming of Jesus. Like a prologue of a book, or a prelude in our worship service, John tells the people what is about to happen. He preps them for something that is better and more important than himself. But it doesn’t sound much like shopping and baking and decorating. 

“Repent,” John says, “for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

He continues, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

So what does it mean to John to prepare for Christmas? Well, it means preparing for the coming of Jesus, and he says we won’t be ready for that until we repent and recognize that a Jesus’ birth marks a new age— something wild and new and wonderful that we could never even dream of. 

Repentance is not necessarily the word we would immediately associate with Advent and Christmas preparation. For one thing, here in this Episcopal church, as well as many others across the country, we use the hopeful and anticipatory color blue for Advent instead of the repentant and penitential purple that other congregations might use, the same color we use for Lent in the spring. 

But it seems that repentance is of utmost importance to John, and throughout the gospel according to Matthew, we will see this liturgical year, that it is also very important to Jesus. 

It is important that we prepare our hearts and our minds and our attitudes for Jesus. We are reminded to do this figuratively throughout Advent, but what we will celebrate on Christmas Day is not only the miracle of Jesus coming to be with us in the form of a tiny baby, marking the beginning of the coming of the Kingdom of God, but also looking forward to the day when he will return to us, at the end of time, when Isaiah’s prophecy will be completely fulfilled in God’s promise. 

Repentance, at its core, means to change direction, to pick a different course, to turn around. And that is what John is asking the listeners— and us— to do. John’s sole calling is to alert people to the fact that what they are doing is out of step with God’s purpose and desire for their lives and for all of creation. “You brood of vipers,” John accuses, something new is happening and you’d better be ready for it. And that newness is what Isaiah describes: a time when there will be no predator and prey, no fear or hatred, no anger or rebellion. There will be peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace. Paths that are straight and lives that are full. 

Repentance, John says, turning toward this peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace, is the first step in joining Jesus in this new world and in this new kingdom. 

That is my favorite thing about John the Baptizer. He minimizes himself in order to glorify the one who will come after him. All that he does and all that he is points to the one who will save us with baptism in the spirit, with his birth, life, death, and resurrection. John points to the one who embodies what it looks like for us to repent. 

So how do we prepare for the coming of Jesus? How do we prepare for Christmas? Repent. Be transformed by this age-old story and change direction. Turn from idolatry, violence, injustice, exploitation, slavery, and scarcity— and turn toward devotion, peace, justice, equity, freedom, and abundance— turn toward God and the one whom we await on Christmas morning and on the last day, Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Unnoticed Miracles

Matthew 1:18-25

Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

A sermon for the 4th Sunday in Advent, preached at St. James Lutheran Church in Fayetteville, North Carolina. 

It’s a miracle! This is it! The virgin conception! This is what we’ve been waiting for this whole season! We’ve been waiting for this big miracle— the miracle that the angels proclaim, the miracle that prophets had been writing about for centuries. It’s finally here! 

We like to get caught up in the big miracle stories of the Bible — and the virgin conception and birth is one of our favorites to tell and speculate about. How did God do it? Was it real? When did she find out? 

We love these big, important miracles in the Bible like the flood, the manna, plagues, parting of the Red Sea, the feeding of the thousands, the healing stories of Jesus' time. 

We get so caught up in waiting for the big miracles that we forget to look for the smaller, unnoticed miracles in the story. In this case, Joseph’s side of the story is full of little miracles if we look a little bit closer. 

Here we have Joseph who finds out about Mary’s pregnancy. And of course he would think that she has committed adultery. 

Doesn’t expose her to the authorities, so he decides to divorce her quietly. 

Which at first doesn’t seem like such a righteous thing as the text tell us it is. 

But we know from the law that any woman who commits adultery will be stoned to death. 

So Joseph essentially chose to spare Mary’s life by divorcing her quietly and possibly infringes on his own honor and status in society. Even before the angel shows up in his dream, he is already planning to do something unexpected. It just shows the kind of person Joseph was — he was kind, compassionate, and a little bit subversive. 

And God uses this man to further God’s mission. God sends an angel to his dream and the angel tells him not to be afraid. “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife,” the angels says. The angels says, “she’ll have a son and you’ll name him Jesus.” 

And he did. He took Mary and married her — despite the ridicule that he would get. Despite the risk to his reputation and status in society. And what’s more — he takes the word of God and he raises Jesus as his own son, giving him a name, a home, and a trade. A miracle. 

That’s what a miracle is after all — when God, in all of God’s glory, opens our hearts to lean closer and listen more clearly and love more fully. But those kinds of miracles aren’t flashy. They aren’t always exciting. The in-breaking of the Kingdom of God is actually quit hard sometimes. 

Which is why we would rather wait for God to act, wait for God to do something explosive and amazing. 

We do the same thing with the stories in our lives, don’t we? We are always waiting for the big miracles, the ones we can turn into TV shows or movies or Facebook posts. 

We spend a lot of our lives waiting for miracles like this one. Searching for where God is breaking into the world to save a loved one from a disease or bring two estranged people back together. We are waiting for miracles all the time. 

But we want the big kind of miracle — we want the kinds that really knock our socks off with how amazing we are. And we sit and we wait for them, hoping and praying that they happen soon. 

But, I think, when we sit and wait passively for miracles to happen to us and for us, we forget that miracles -- the little ones, if there are such things as little miracles -- really are happening around us all the time. They might go unnoticed to most of the world, but that doesn’t make them any less significant. Because from what I have noticed, God tends to work through the small miracles. God tends to work through the everyday things and relationships we have with people. 

Just recently I heard a story about a young pastor and his wife: 

A man was locking up the church one evening when he finds two little boys - about 2 years old and the other 7 months old - almost naked in a pile of trash outside of the church - they were only wearing diapers. 

Unsure of what to do, he called the pastor of the church and the pastor and his wife rushed over immediately. As the pastor arrived and they talked about what to do, the parents of the little boys came out of the woods near the church and told the pastor and his wife that they were homeless and cannot take care of their children. 

The pastor asked if he might take the boys home to clean them up and keep them warm for the night. The boys were covered in bug bites, when they pulled the shoes off the older boy some of his skin came off with it. They were so filthy, the pastor and his wife bathed them once, drained the water, and bathed them again. 

The pastor and his wife came back to the woods the next day to talk to the homeless couple about their situation. After a few weeks of taking care of the boys, the homeless couple asked if they might sign custody over to the pastor and his wife. The pastor’s wife says they barely hesitated, “of course,” she said. The pastor and his wife already has three children, but without hesitation they invited two more little boys into their home, and eventually adopted them. 

This is the kind of every day miracles God works through. And if we had the courage to look around us, we would be able to see these things happening in our lives and the lives of other every single day. 

Just this past Thursday, we had one here in the church - A group of men from Grace Lutheran Church drove about five hours to deliver all of the hurricane relief supplies. Then a group of people from this church took time out of their days to come and receive donations those donations. It was an outpouring of love that was beautiful to behold. 

It’s these kinds of miracles that God works through. We like the big ones — the ones that they make into movies, like the ones where children die and meet God and come back and tell everyone about it. God works in those miracles, there’s no doubt about that. And those are the kinds of miracles we long for, aren’t they? The big kind — the kind we can post pictures and a Facebook status about. The kind that make it into the newspaper. 

But the most important and incredible miracles this world has ever seen came not in all the flashiness of Hollywood and not with thousands of pictures documenting the moment. It came in the birth of a baby we call Immanuel, God with us. The most significant miracle in all the world came into the world as a baby because God wants so badly to be in relationship with us that God actually became one of us. So that through him we might find salvation and become a part of God’s work in the world too. This miracle lives on as the body of Christ, and we are taken up into that miracle every Sunday as we eat and drink the body and blood of Christ together in the Eucharist. We become a part of this miracle. 

So that we might be a participants in and recipients of God’s incredible in-breaking of the Kingdom of God. So that we might point to the miracle that is Christ, our Lord and our Savior. Amen.