Sermon on Genesis 1-2:3

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

As we begin our yearlong theme of Sabbath for 2024, I wanted to start with a sermon series on what the Bible says about Sabbath. From now until Lent, we’ll be exploring some parts of the Bible that we don’t always spend a lot of time on—passages about Sabbath, Jubilee, and rest.

And where better to start than The Beginning?

This is one of the better-known passages we’ll be looking at. But we often look at it for what it says about what God created and our place in the world and our relationship with creation. We gravitate toward the beautiful imagery of God calling things into existence and the drama of “Let there be light!” We read with delight about God creating humanity in God’s image. But we rarely focus on God resting and what that means for our practice of Sabbath.

But the conclusion of the creation story is when God rested and enjoyed what God had made.

This is an amazing story. When we look at creation stories from other cultures in that area at that time, we see gods creating the world and humanity by accident or for the purpose of having servants. In Genesis, we see God calling forth heavenly bodies and arranging the sea and the sky—intentionally, with purpose and beauty.

And God calls all of it good.

And then, God creates humanity in God’s own image and entrusts these human creations with the care and keeping of the good world God had made. And God saw that it was very good.

And certainly the creation of humanity seems to be the climax of the story—the completion of creation at which time God called it “very good.”

But that’s not where our story ends. It doesn’t end with the sixth day and the completion of what God created. The story doesn’t end until God rests. And God doesn’t just collapse on the sofa and hide from the world, exhausted. God rests intentionally, setting aside that time for rest and enjoyment. God blesses and hallows the seventh day because God rested on that day. The day of rest has God’s special blessing on it.

There’s an organization called The Bible Project, and they release educational videos about the Bible. They have a really great one on Sabbath that I’m hoping to show you soon. In it, they observe that on each of the first six days of creation, it reads, “and there was evening and there was morning, the [first, second, or whatever] day.”

But that doesn’t happen on the seventh day. It’s like the seventh day never ends. The Bible Project folks argue that it’s because that state of rest and enjoyment is how creation is supposed to be always. The initial work of creation was complete, and the world was ready to enjoy for the rest of time.

And we don’t earn that. Humanity had barely existed before God called all creation to rest and commune with God.

Similarly, Jesus had just come on the scene in our reading from the Gospel of Mark today. He hadn’t risen from the dead, healed anyone, cast out any demons, collected any followers, or even taught anyone anything. And yet, when he came up out of the water after being baptized, the voice of God came from the torn-apart heavens and said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

God was “well-pleased” with Jesus? He hadn’t done anything yet!

If that sounds a little cold, like Jesus’ existence wasn’t enough and he had to prove his worth, remember that next time your inner critic starts whispering that you’re not good enough or that you have to prove yourself to the world.

It’s only after Jesus is fortified by his identity affirmed in baptism that he goes out into the wilderness and withstands all kinds of temptations.

Jesus didn’t please God because of what he did or how much he sacrificed. Jesus pleased God because of his very identity as a beloved child of God.

This is why we’re beginning our Sabbath journey here: beginning at The Beginning.

Sabbath can easily become an obligation, another “to-do” on our list, or another reason to feel guilty when we don’t follow it like we want.

But that’s not what Sabbath is about. We don’t have to earn rest, just as we don’t have to (and indeed, can’t) earn God’s love.

Yes, Sabbath is a practice, but it’s a practice rooted in our identity as children of God who live secure in God’s love and enjoyment of us and the world we live in.

We practice it, because we so easily forget who we are and whose we are. I’ve heard of yoga and meditation teachers who remind their students that it’s called a yoga practice or a meditation practice, not a “yoga perfect” or a “meditation perfect.”

Let’s cultivate our Sabbath practice this year, not to make us more perfect people or to please God more or to check off another item on our spiritual to-do list. Let’s practiceSabbath: let’s experiment with different ways to rest, let’s play more, laugh more, breathe more, nap more, feel the sun on our faces more and the grass under our feet more. Not out of obligation or even because it’s good for us (though it is), but because we are God’s, and this is God’s creation—made to delight in.

I invite you,if it’s comfortable to do so, to plant your feet on the floor. Imagine the ground under your feet supporting you, grounding you. Now, I invite you to take your finger and draw the sign of the cross on your forehead. Now repeat after me:

“I am God’s beloved child.

God is well-pleased with me.”

Beloved children of God, God had you in mind even at the creation of the world. It is not possible for God to love you any more than God already does. Nothing you have ever done or ever will do can change that.

God delights in you and in creation and invites you to do the same. Our Sabbath practice is grounded in our identity as children of God.

Rest well, beloved.

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