When You Get What’s Coming

This is the second in a series for Advent from a work in progress called "Prairie Liturgy."

Original artwork by Meg Rift, (C) 2017

Haggai 1:3 - 9, 2:6 – 9; Psalm 63:1 – 8; Luke 12: 35 – 40
December 10, 2017
First Presbyterian Church, Sterling IL
Christina Berry

The three scripture readings for today may seem at first to be disconnected. The first reading comes from almost the end of the Hebrew Scriptures. Haggai is a prophet of the era of about 520 BC, after the exiled Israelites have returned from Babylon. Haggai is distressed that the Israelites are more interested in restoring their own fortunes than they are in restoring the temple as a center of community life. The Israelites are interested in getting stuff for themselves, but what they don’t get is how meaningless that pursuit has become. Let’s listen for God’s word in the words of Haggai 1:3 - 9, 2:6 – 9:

Then the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai, saying:
Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins? Now therefore thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider how you have fared. You have sown much, and harvested little; you eat, but you never have enough; you drink, but you never have your fill;
you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; and you that earn wages earn wages to put them into a bag with holes. Thus says the Lord of hosts: Consider how you have fared.
Go up to the hills and bring wood and build the house, so that I may take pleasure in it and be honored, says the Lord. You have looked for much, and, lo, it came to little; and when you brought it home, I blew it away. Why? says the Lord of hosts. Because my house lies in ruins, while all of you hurry off to your own houses. (2:6-9) For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendor, says the Lord of hosts. The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts. The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of hosts.

In the Psalm, the psalmist gets it – gets what Haggai was saying. This poet of Israel has but one desire – to be in communion with God. Let’s listen to the yearning for God expressed in Psalm 63:1 – 8:

O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
I will lift up my hands and call on your name.
My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast,
and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed,
and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.

Our third reading comes from the gospel of Luke.
In it, Jesus reminds his friends of the importance of being ready.
While many of you might have heard this interpreted as a scary warning – “Jesus is coming back and boy, are you going to get it!” – it might serve us better to consider the importance of living each day in readiness for whatever comes. Let’s listen for God’s word to us in Luke 12: 35 – 40

“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. “But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”



On the map of Advent, this second Sunday is a serious detour.
Last week we were okay with the waiting,
and next Sunday is joy Sunday, and Mary’s song, and the kids’ program.
But the traditional lessons for the second Sunday of Advent are bleak,
and to tell the truth, these alternative lessons we’ve heard are off the map.

Poor old Haggai is not getting through to the Israelites,
and you have to wonder if he had any idea that his message
would still not be getting through twenty five hundred years later.

Really, this message doesn’t even need any updating for us.
It sounds like a message about modern consumerism:
“you eat, but you never have enough;
you drink, but you never have your fill;
you clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;
and you that earn wages earn wages to put them into a bag with holes.”

It sounds like contemporary America, especially in December –
with all the marketing and commercials and sales pitches,
designed to make us want more, more, more.
Someone once said that consumer marketing has
“transformed people into constantly moving happiness machines.”

Constantly moving happiness machines,
always looking for the next thing that everyone wants to get.
If we can’t find the perfect gift, we get the popular one –
Billy the Big Mouth bass, or those blankets with sleeves, or onesies for adults.
But it is never enough, all the food and drink and clothing and gizmos, 

never enough to satisfy our souls, never enough to slake our thirst.

The Psalmist got it, what Haggai was saying –
our souls are hungry and thirsty,
not for cookies or eggnog, not for more stuff,
but for the divine, the transcendent.

That’s what we are waiting for.
That’s what many of us are seeking, hoping, waiting for.
That’s what Advent is all about – not just getting stuff,
but getting ready --preparing and waiting for transformation.

My friend Stephanie Anthony said once, in a sermon for Advent,
“Sometimes … it seems like we’re pretending [that]
we’re waiting for Jesus to come for the first time.”

She’s right , of course.

In spite of the scripture readings and the calls to be ready,
we focus putting up the tree and thinking on little baby Jesus.

We’re like Ricky Bobby in "Talladega Nights:" “Dear, tiny infant Jesus… “
When his wife reminds him that Jesus was a grown up man, he replies,
“I like the Christmas Jesus best and I'm saying grace.
When you say grace, you can say it to grownup Jesus or teenage Jesus
or bearded Jesus, or whoever you want.”

But that Jesus, the tiny infant Jesus, has already come.
Our waiting, our time of preparing, is for his return.
Because he’s already been here and we expect him to come back.

If, like me, you grew up hearing ominous stories
about Jesus sneaking back here to earth in order to punish and judge us,
that metaphor in Luke may sound scary.
Who yearns for an angry God to show up and smite them?
No wonder we want to stick with what Ricky Bobby’s
“Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus.”

But what if Jesus has already come back,
and the way he has returned is made manifest in us,
in the ways we seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God?
Then, our hunger and our thirst are for the promise of his kingdom,
to live out his love and justice.

In the coming of God in Jesus Christ,
the yoke of bondage is lifted from those who are oppressed,
the captives are set free,
and the hungry are fed.

Keeping our lamps lit, being ready for him,
means we are ready to get what’s coming to us –
to participate in the reign of Christ,
to work toward that day
when the treasure of all nations is within our grasp,
when hospitality and heart overcome hatred and homophobia,
when radical love overwhelms racism and rejection,
when empathy is more important than empire.
That’s what we’re working toward.

That’s what we’re waiting for.

Advent doesn’t mean waiting – literally, advent means “arrival!”
Jesus, the son of man, is coming, and has arrived,
not to condemn the world, not to punish the wicked,
but to welcome the stranger, bless the children, heal the hurting;
to tie a towel around his waist, and become a servant,
to welcome us into the heart of love,
to welcome us to his table.

That’s where the compass on our map is pointing – to the table
where our thirst is slaked, and our hunger is satisfied,
and we have all that we ever need.

That’s when we get what’s coming. 

Thanks be to God!

Amen.