Sermon on Luke 2:1-20

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

“Sleep in heavenly peace / sleep in heavenly peace.”

When many people think of Christmas Eve, they think of singing “Silent Night” in a darkened sanctuary surrounded by twinkling candles. It’s a still, peaceful image—there’s a hush over everything.

And yet, the Christmas story involves noise and mess and chaos.

Mary and Joseph had to travel, which is chaotic whether in the first century or today, as anyone who traveled to be here tonight knows.

Also, an important part of the Christmas story revolves around childbirth. I’m not a parent, but I know that many people in this room know firsthand that there is very little peace and quiet involved in that process. And newborns, despite the lovely photoshoots where they’re sleeping with adorable little hats on, are…let’s just say: good at exercising their lungs.

And then, there are some shepherds working the graveyard shift, maybe settling in for a long night of protecting their sheep from nighttime predators—hoping there will be little to report in the morning. But no: they were scared out of their minds when a messenger of God materialized in front of them. They were in for not only a divine message and a heavenly concert—they then had to travel through the night into Bethlehem to find the baby the angels told them about.

Side note: if it weren’t for the strong culture of hospitality, I’m sure Mary and Joseph would have been very happy not to have nocturnal visitors to their newborn baby.

And then, the shepherds returned, praising God for everything they had seen. They didn’t just drag their weary bodies back to the fields—they were so excited by what had happened that they shared their story—maybe disturbing their neighbors on the way.

We haven’t even touched the Gospel of Matthew’s account ofthe wise ones who traveled much farther than Mary and Joseph and the jealous, bloodthirsty King Herod.

There is a lot of noise and mess and chaos in this story. Not a lot of rest for anyone involved.

And still, the Gospel of Luke notes that “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”

Somehow in the middle of the noise and mess and chaos, Mary still found wonder.

Somehowshe found it in the midst of unexpected guests in the middle of the night while staying in someone else’s home. She found it even when her weary eyes and aching body cried out for sleep. She found it in the face of an uncertain future and many questions.

Somehow, God decided to break into the noise and mess and chaos of our lives in that moment. God chose Mary and Joseph to raise Godself in occupied Roman territory with no riches or luxuries or political influence. God shared the good news with shepherds, not kings or priests or emperors.

God became human despite the noise and mess and chaos.In the least likely parts of our human story, the little Lord Jesus lay asleep on the hay (or maybe was not so quiet after being woken up by cattle lowing). Jesus lay in the manger right in the middle of our noise and mess and chaos. God doesn’t shy away from it.

And still we strive for perfection in this season (or at least a family Christmas dinner where no one cries or yells at anyone).

Even tonight, there might still be some presents that need wrapping, tomorrow a breakfast to be made. More travel, more traffic, more lines to wait in. More notifications of not-to-be-missed deals online and in store windows.

Or perhaps the turmoil is within—loneliness, grief, resentment, worry, hopelessness. This season stirs up all kinds of emotions—not all of them welcomed or accepted in the general ethos of holly and jolly.

The noise and mess and chaoscan’t be avoided no matter how many matching pajamas we have or what emotions we compartmentalize until after New Year’s.

Real life can’t be tied up in a neat bow. Real life happy endings don’t appear at the end of 90 minutes like a Hallmark movie.

The noise and the mess and the chaos are real.

And still, God chose to enter our noise and mess and chaos. God didn’t wait until things were perfect and shiny and neat.

God embraces every part of our noise and mess and chaos even today.

We can lay aside our expectations of perfection and shine and neatness, because life doesn’t work that way.

If Mary treasured in her heart what was happening amid the noise and mess and chaos in her life, then we can too.

God invites us every moment to notice God’s presence.

Even in our busiest times, God is here, embracing us in our noise and mess and chaos.

With every inhale, we breathe in God’s Spirit, and with every exhale, we breathe God’s love into the world.

Even at our most frantic, we still breathe.

And, as anyone who has ever meditated knows, breathing can calm the chaos, even just a little. In our breath, we return to ourselves and to God.

Who couldn’t use more of that?

That’s why at First Lutheran, we’re going to be spending the entire year of 2024 exploring the idea of Sabbath.

Sabbath is time to rest, enjoy, and turn our focus to God in the midst of the noise, mess, and chaos.

Our society doesn’t want us to rest. It wants us to grind, to be more efficient, to turn our hobbies into side hustles, and if, God forbid, we must rest, it’s only so we can work harder when we return to work.

That’s not how Sabbath works. Sabbath is a holy time.

It was a holy time when Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.

It was a holy time whenthe angels sang “Glory to God” in the middle of a random field in front of some ordinary shepherds.

It was a holy time whenGod took on a tiny, helpless body that needed rest and sleep and became part of our noise, mess, and chaos.

And however noisy, messy, and chaotic your life is, this is a holy time too. May you find rest and joy in it and sleep in heavenly peace.

Sermon on Luke 1:26-38

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

“If you want God to laugh, tell God your plans,” goes the saying.

That certainly was the case for King David when he decided he wanted to build a house for God.

I’m sure it came from a good place. God had chosen David the shepherd boy as king, had made him victorious in battle even against a giant, and had of course led David’s ancestors out of Egypt and through the desert to the Promised Land.

David was attentive to the fact that, though God’s people were settled from their wanderings in the wilderness, the ark of the covenant, God’s holy seat, was still housed in a tent. And he decided it was time to do something about that.

But God had other ideas.God hadn’t asked for a house. God didn’t need a house. And David would not be the one to build a house for God when the time came.

David told God his plan—and God laughed.

Isn’t that how it so often goes?

We envision something we think is a good idea, and so we go for it. We might even assume it’s what God has in mind for us.

We want things on our timeline. Our society urges us to maximize our productivity and be as efficient as possible. We’re supposed to envision our goals as if they’ve already happened and manifest positive energy.

But, as Stephen Covey said, “It doesn’t really matter how fast you’re going if you’re heading in the wrong direction.” And it doesn’t matterhow nice your goals sound if they don’t line up with what God has in store for you.

Or in other words: we plan—God laughs.

And that’s so frustrating sometimes! Has there ever been something you were really excited about—a program or a contest or a relationship—and you thought it was just perfect for you, but it didn’t work out? It’s crushing.

And sometimes, there’s no silver lining to be seen. Some things are just disappointing, or even tragic. I’m not going to say everything happens for a reason, because I don’t know that I believe that. I think God can work through difficult and tragic circumstances to create something out of it. I think there are times when we can make meaning out of the ashes of what our life was. But I don’t think that makes the tragedy okay.

But that’s not really the type of thing I see in David’s story here. I see someone who wanted to give a gift to God, but that gift wasn’t his to give.

I see this as one of the more minor disappointments or setbacks we experience in our lives. The ones that feel like a punch to the gut when they happen, but that we know we’ll recover from given some time.

I experienced one of these when I was waiting for my first call. The very first congregation I interviewed with seemed like a great fit. I was so excited. We did a second interview, and they even invited me to tour the building.

And then, I got the phone call that they were moving forward with a different candidate. I understood, and I was happy for them, but that was also really hard to hear. There were definitely some tears shed over that disappointment.

They ended up with a really fantastic pastor who is a great fit, and now I’m super excited for all of them. But at the time, I was crushed for myself. I was in for what felt like an eternity of waiting. Nothing seemed to be happening.

But then, after many months, I got the invitation to have a conversation about serving here. I was practically jumping up and down. I couldn’t stop smiling, and there might have been a little laughter bordering on hysterical.

As disappointed as I was about that first congregation, it turned out God had a much better idea in mind for me—one I never dreamed of for myself.

What it took was time.

There are two different words for time in Greek: chronos, which is linear time, like chronology; and kairos, which is God time.

Kairos operates very differently from chronos. Have you ever looked at the ocean and had a moment of awe that seemed to last forever, but was actually only a few minutes? Or have you ever been in a state of “flow,” where you’re working on a project and hours fly by unnoticed as your soul lights up with inspiration? Kairos time is like that. As our reading from 2 Peter two weeks ago reminds us, “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.”[1] God doesn’t work in our timeline.

That was certainly the case for David. He wanted to build God a house, but instead, God promised to build David a house—a legacy of rulers that would shepherd God’s people throughout time.

And boy did it take a long time for that promise to be fulfilled. God’s kairos time wasn’t just talking about in David’s lifetime: it would be fulfilled about a thousand years later in Jesus.

It was fulfilled in a kairos moment we call “the annunciation,” when the angel Gabriel was sent to talk to a girl named Miriam, or Mary. Her life went from chronos time—living her ordinary, everyday life—to kairos time in an instant at the appearance of an angelic messenger of God.

Mary knew the promises God made to David and all God’s people: promises of a Messiah, promises of liberation, promises that God’s people would be a blessing to the world.

And all that was coming true in that moment—God’s promises fulfilled in a simple “may it be” from an ordinary young person from nowhere special. This kairos moment would change the course of Mary’s life—and human history—forever.

“’He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end,’” said the angel.

Chronos and kairos time met when God became one of us. God was born in a human body with a human name and human friends and laughed and cried, celebrated and sorrowed, and ultimately died a human and humiliating death before defeating death at death’s own game.

God doesn’t work in our timeline. I’m sure David never dreamed of what Jesus would be like a thousand years in the future.We are limited by chronos time. We, like David, don’t always get to see the fulfillment of God’s promises in our lifetime. Sometimes we do—like when my waiting for a first call ended with getting to do ministry with all of you beloved people—and sometimes we don’t see it and have to trust in God’s faithfulness. Because God is faithful. God was faithful to David, to Mary, and is faithful to us. God keeps God’s promises.

And God invites us into kairos time. That is what Sabbath is about. It’s about stepping out of chronos time and settling into kairos time. As Pastor Jaz reminded us last week, God gave the Sabbath to a people who had been enslaved for generations. They were to rest and remember that God is a God of freedom and liberation—they were no longer enslaved to labor. Their value was not in their work but in their identity as children of God. The same goes for us, beloved children of God.

We may not always see the fulfillment of God’s promises in our lifetimes, but we can trust that God is faithful and keeps God’s promises in kairos time. And God invites us into kairos time to rest in the promise that we are beloved children of God, and because of that we can throw off the chains of productivity and hustle our society binds us with.

Rest in kairos time, beloved children of God. Remember that all things are possible with God. May it be so.

[1]2 Peter 3:8

Bedrest & Lizard Boy Summer

Pr. Jaz Waring |

Advent 3 December 10, 2023 Luke 1:46b-55 46b

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,   47my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48 for you, Lord, have looked with favor on your lowly servant.   From this day all generations will call me blessed: 49 you, the Almighty, have done great  things for me   and holy is your name. 50 You have mercy on those who fear you,   from generation to generation. 51 You have shown strength with your arm   and scattered the proud in their conceit, 52 casting down the mighty from their thrones   and lifting up the lowly. 53 You have filled the hungry with good things   and sent the rich away empty. 54 You have come to the aid of your servant Israel,   to remember the promise of mercy, 55 the promise made to our forebears,   to Abraham and his children forever. At the end of my two-year intense seminary program, I was burnt out. I remember around this time two years ago I was deep in my winter finals writing punishingly long essays in the midst of the holiday season. By the time I graduated, my brain was like a fried chicken nugget. I needed some rest! In order to keep myself accountable to this season of recovery, I decided to adopt the ethic of a lizard. For the next three months I only did what a lizard did: take naps, lay in the sun, eat cute snacks, go to the beach, and do a push-up every once in a while. I called it, “Lizard Boy Summer.” At the end of the summer, I was ready for “Girl Boss Fall” and it's been a rocket ride since. Rest is one of my favorite theological topics to talk about. You might remember a sermon I gave a couple years ago about “The Liberating Power of Naps.” I was so excited to hear Pastor Jennifer’s series on rest for Advent this year. Coincidentally, The Table is also focusing on rest this Advent, so it looks like Spirit is trying to teach us something. Last week, Pastor Jennifer preached on John the Baptist’s single-minded focus of his purpose and mission in the world: to prepare the way of Christ. We are called to let go of distractions that are sucking out or energy and rest in our belovedness. We don’t need to prove our worth or earn our keep in the Kingdom of God. This week we are celebrating the third week of Advent, which is traditionally Magnificat Sunday. This is the week where we remember a pregnant Mary boldly proclaiming the coming age of justice through Christ, where the mighty are cast from their thrones and the lowly are lifted. The hungry will be filled and the rich are sent away empty. We light a candle with joy knowing our current pain is temporary, and our world is about to turn. If Advent is about waiting to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. Our world is in need of deep healing, and working like business as usual is not going to save us. Wages are not keeping up with the rate of inflation, so people can’t make ends meet. Babies are being pulled out of the rubble of bombed hospitals. Mass shootings are the new normal. All the while the threat of climate change is an ever present reality. I’ll say it again: if Advent is about waiting and preparing to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. It’s very easy to fall into the trap of using rest to ignore the world around us. Sometimes we can spiritually bypass suffering by curating a worldview of “good vibes only” and shield ourselves from the suffering of Christ in the other. Rest does not mean we lower our eye masks and neglect justice. Rest is a justice issue. Ask a refugee living in an encampment when was the last time they had a good night’s sleep. Get in a time machine and ask an enslaved African in the South when was the last time they took a nap. For working class folks, rest is a luxury and a privilege. I remember seeing my grandfather, with only an 8th or 9th grade education, work every day as a janitor in his small business and worked manual labor well into his 70’s. I’d find him around lunch time asleep sitting up on the couch while “watching” the soccer game on Telemundo. My grandparents were not able to retire until they moved back to Chile over ten years ago. Rest is not a luxury, it is necessary for our survival and is a human right. Sleep deprivation is a warcrime according to the Geneva Convention. Why are we committing war crimes against ourselves and our neighbors? Christ, have mercy on us. So then, what does rest look like in the face of injustice? First, we need to get out of heads that rest is supposed to make us more productive. Yes, we can do more when we’re not tired, but the point of rest is not to become a better capitalist worker bee making money to buy more things. The kind of rest I’m talking about is a robust theological understanding of claiming our baptismal promise of our belovedness. When God created the sabbath as a holy day of rest, God was speaking to a people who were enslaved for generations, who’s worth was based on how many bricks they made or how much grain they can carry. Sabbath was created to remind God’s people that they are free. God created the sabbath because even God almighty rested after creating a “very good” world. Rest is the resistance of the idea we have to earn love and acceptance from society and the embrace of our identity as beloved children of God. Rest is an act of faith and a deep trust that God will help to provide for your needs through community care. This is our foundation from which we move and act in a weary world. We work from a place of rest, instead of working to a place of rest. We’re not working for the weekend, as if rest and leisure is a prize to be won or is a reward. Our week begins in sabbath, whatever day that is for you where you are not doing your job. For me, it’s Mondays. All the work we do in the days after our sabbath is our response or is sourced from that reservoir of rest. When we work from a place of rest, we have the capacity to pour ourselves out into others, helping our neighbor get set free and rest. Our liberation from the oppression of grind culture, violence, and suffering is not individual. Our liberation is collective and intertwined with each other. Which means I am not free until my neighbor is free. I cannot fully enter into rest if my neighbor cannot rest. If we could have the singleminded focus on our purpose and mission like John, casting off anything that is sucking our energy away from pursing Christ…think how much the world would change. If you’re having trouble finding what your purpose or mission is, I’ll tell you. Our purpose is to love God, love people as you love yourself. Our mission is to join in and participate in God’s reconciling and liberating work in the world. Whatever we do that falls under this is up to you. This past summer a couple of friends asked me if I was going to do “lizard boy summer” again, because they wanted to join in this year. One person just got out of a really toxic work environment and was taking time off to change careers, and an other person felt overloaded with clients. More people heard about it and wanted to join Lizard Boy Summer! Anyone who wanted to take time over the summer to play, say no to overcommitments, take naps without guilt, and lay in the sun, was welcome! During this time, we had the capacity to help put on a drag brunch fundraiser for The Table’s mutual-aid fund. The mutual-aid fund is something we started this year to help members at The Table who are experiencing financial hardship. In the first five months of having the fund, we spent our budget for the year because the needs were so high. We put on this fundraiser to fill up the mutual-aid tank and continue our commitment to community care. It was an amazing event, and we raised over $2.8K, almost triple our goal! None of this would have been possible without our volunteers, and it would not have been as successful if we had not taken the time to begin from a place of rest, and rest some more after. Eventually all of the lizard boys got tattoos to commemorate this summer, and to remind ourselves to take time to be a lizard whenever we can. Because Lizard Boy Summer is not just for the summer…it's a lifestyle. Our world is in need of deep healing, and working like business as usual is not going to save us. If Advent is about waiting to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. Rest is not a luxury, it is necessary for our survival and is a human right. Rest is claiming your baptismal promise that you are loved for who you are, not what you do. Remember, we work from a place of rest, instead of working to a place of rest. Remember, our liberation is collective and intertwined with each other. Which means I cannot fully enter into rest if my neighbor cannot rest. And if you are having trouble getting started with this journey of rest, just ask yourself, W.W.L.D? What would lizards do? Amen.