In 1969, illustrator and children’s book author Eric Carle had an idea. With hole-punch in hand he playfully went to work on a stack of papers. Looking at the result he thought of a bookworm. But his editor, Ann Beneduce, suggested a worm may not make for a very likeable character. “Why not make it a caterpillar,” she suggested. Eric replied enthusiastically “Butterfly!” The book soon took shape.

Looking back over 50 years later, the moment inspired a book iconic, memorable, colorful, and full of holes. Punch holes that is. Right there in the book, a brand-new form at the time.

The book wasn’t just creative, it was a commercial success. It’s been translated into over 40 languages, with sales of over 50 million copies worldwide. That equates to almost two copies sold, every minute of the past five decades.

For children, parents, grandparents and beyond there’s a good chance you’ve read this book, or had it read to you at some point.

We’re talking, of course, about The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

The book begins at birth, a little egg lay on a leaf, in the light of the moon.
One Sunday morning, in the warmth of the sun, out of the egg came a caterpillar. It was tiny. And very, very hungry.

On the first day the caterpillar ate one apple; a holepunch on the page marks the meal. But it was still hungry. The second day it ate through two pears, making two holes. But it was still hungry. Each day, it ate more, and differently, a new fruit on each new page. Every bite creating more and more holes.

And on the sixth day the caterpillar bit into all kinds of other foods; cake and cheese, pie and pickles, oh my.

With all this eating the caterpillar was no longer hungry. And no longer little. All this eating had transformed the tiny caterpillar into a big one. So the caterpillar built a cocoon around themselves, staying inside for two weeks.

Nibbling a hole in their case the creature then reemerged back into the world around. But in that time spent in the cocoon, magically, it had changed.

Sixteen legs became six.
No wings became two.

An insect, once grounded, then took flight.

As the book ends the old creature is no more. In its place stands a new creature. A bright, majestic, beautiful butterfly.

The metamorphosis, from one form, into a completely different one, was now complete.

The story of our savior reads similarly.
Jesus, born an infant, ate and drank and grew into adulthood, from tiny to full size, just as you and I. He was fully human after all.

As Jesus’s ministry unfolded people could tell there was something unique about the man. New life radiated from Jesus to all who were drawn to it. And a lot of people were. Enough so, that, 2,000 years later here we are, still talking about events and people long since passed.

A butterfly flapping its wings seems like such a little thing. But one small flap can create new ripples of wind, again, and again, and again. All going out from the original source. One small flap, enough to create a major weather event of global proportions.

Most of the time Jesus walked the earth, among us, his light and life and truth, that people were drawn to, was more feeling, instinct, heart. All wrapped up in that still seemingly human form.

Yet change was in the air.

With each disciple gained, temptation faced, miracle performed, and table turned the ripple effect, of Christ’s ministry, widened.

With every sermon delivered, tear shed, blessing given, prayer lifted, those caught up in Christ’s ripple effect changed for the better, little by little, day by day. The ripple, of a new movement, continued to spread.

All this change, and transformation, already in process, brings Jesus and a few friends to the surprising events of Matthew 17.

Leading disciples Peter and James and John up a high mountain the human form of Jesus, seemingly, out of nowhere, transforms.

His face shone like the sun.
His clothes were brighter than bright.

And in this moment, what radiated from Christ, this light and life and truth, took on a physical nature. Transfiguring Christ into a more beautiful, spiritual state. A butterfly, seemingly, had appeared.

Suggesting, to all who were there,
Christ must be something,
beyond mere mortal.

Moses and Elijah then enter the scene.

Suggesting God’s faithful,
from all ages,
are also included in the new.

Peter, sensing a moment divine, offers to make homes for the three prophets. I can almost picture him looking around for building materials, right there on the side of the mountain. Ready to get the construction project started, ancient hammer in hand.

He desires to build a safe space, apart from the world, so they all can celebrate, and be content in the moment.

There are a couple of problems with Peter’s aspirations. Keeping with the metaphor, butterflies don’t have homes in this way. They’re travelers. The grand monarch travels distances of up to 3,000 miles, using air currents and thermals to go such long distances.

Jesus said as much about himself elsewhere in scripture; “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

Second, a movement is just that. It requires motion, not a fixed space. Because this particular moment, of shining faces, and clothes brighter than bright was merely a small reveal of what was to come.

The moment would pass. It needed to. It had to.

For there was more learning, more growing, more transformation, in the life and ministry of Christ on the horizon.

As a parent, at times my wife and I find ourselves watching Hannah and Graham grow up, wishing we could slow it down. Maybe we could bottle up all that life and energy in them we love so, lock it away, and hold onto it forever.

Last night, as our family of four read bed-time stories, Graham, who is six, practiced the sound for words ending in ING. Ing, ing, ing, Graham and I would say, over and over and over, until I was sure he had this tiny reading lesson learned.

Storytime now over, Graham then goes upstairs to brush his teeth. I then hear him parading up and down the hallway playfully shouting ing, ing, ing! Ing, ing ing!!!  He had learned, and applied, and was now having some fun with that word ending too.

I wanted to hold on to the moment forever.
Because the moment, in all its simplicity and silliness, was beautiful.

But there will be more beautiful moments, more transformations, more learning, more growth to come from our two shorties.

Because soon enough ing, ing, ing, becomes sing, and ring, and thing, and reading and writing, and all sorts of other somethings. Somethings like loving and working and volunteering and making a difference in this world God loves so.

Kathi and I celebrate moments like this, knowing well they will lead to other beautiful moments of learning and growing. And we will celebrate those too. Knowing well, at some point, our children will move from our home into their own – that’s really a thing, right? – with the chance to create and mold and help transform their own creatures into something bold, and beautiful and new.

One sacred morning, in the warmth of a manger, out of Mary birthed a baby boy. She named him Jesus. The infant ate and drank and grew into adulthood, from tiny to full size, just as you and I. He was fully human after all.

But this baby turned boy turned adult was different. As the child grew he took in all sorts of things from his surroundings. For man does not live by bread, or drink, alone. Jesus ate and drank-in the world around him, listening to, praying with, speaking to and serving saints and sinners alike.

Each person he encountered left transformed, never to be the same again.

All this eating and drinking in the world around led Jesus to the ultimate transformation. He endured a cross, a grave and a tomb, staying inside it for three days. With stone rolled away a new creature reemerged, back to walk the earth some more.

Christ has died,
Christ is risen,
Christ will come again.

This we believe.

The old creature had been transformed, once and for all. In its place stood a bright, majestic, beautiful savior.

And the world would never be the same.

The season of Lent brings with it the language of journey, challenge, change. And with all that change comes a temptation, like Peter faced, watching Jesus’ face shine so brightly. A temptation to stop all that growth and transformation. A temptation to lock it all down, once and for all. Tying it merely to only one time. Only one place.

We limit our faith when we reduce it to just –

A Christmas eve service,
An Easter day sunrise,
Or only our beliefs, as we understood them, as a child.

As we look upon this upcoming season, of change, we too, are called to lives of transformation. We are asked to consider, what it means –

To love our neighbor, as much as we love ourselves.
To be open to those transforming, from one gender to another.
To better care for people, at the border between despair and hope.

For in Christ all things are being made new.

For in Christ we leave the old, broken creature within us behind. And instead begin to embrace our new creaturely forms. Forms majestic, forms beautiful. Forms that radiate life, living in perfect harmony, with ourselves, our neighbors, and all of God’s creation.  Amen.

Fools and Sages

A stewardship message featuring Luke 12, Genesis 41, Mr. T, and lots and lots of coffee.

I’ve got good news for you. Really good news. You’re rich. Did you know that? Maybe some of you already knew. You might already agree that you’re rich, right off the bat. You’ve done well, have made some plans, set some financial goals, and met many of them. Life has gone well for you. Good job. Well met.

But perhaps you find yourself thinking, WHAT? I’m not rich! You should see my bank account! I’m barely making it. Still, for most of you here, like it or not, you’re rich. What, you don’t agree? You look at your neighbors, see all they have, and think, there is no way you could be rich.

If that’s the case – perhaps we need to take a wider view of what we have. Wider than Ames, Gilbert and Nevada. Wider than Story County. Wider than Iowa. Wider than the United States. So how do you stack up, when your neighbors include the entire world?

The website, Global Rich List, can tell you just how rich you are when compared to the international neighbors we rarely see. Just type in your annual income, with benefits minus taxes, or enter an estimate of your net worth. Then click show my results. This website will tell you exactly how your wealth ranks compared to everyone else on the planet.

• So if you make twenty thousand a year, congratulations, your income puts you in the top 3.65% of wealth globally. To frame that a little differently, making ten dollars an hour, working full time, for forty hours a week will net you twenty thousand dollars a year. Now America has higher costs of living than many places, that’s true. And I recognize if you’re earning twenty thousand a year making ends meet can be difficult. But, globally speaking, our planet has 7.7 billion people on it. And if you make 20k a year, after taxes, you make more money than almost 7.5 billion of them. Globally speaking, you’re doing pretty well.

• If you earn a little more, and make the grand sum of twenty-five thousand a year, that puts you in the top 2 percent of earners in the world.

• This may sound crazy, but if you make a little more than that, and earn thirty-two thousand four hundred dollars a year, well, you’re in the top 1% of income globally. Remember that Wall Street movement last decade? The one called We Are The 99%? That was a U.S. phenomenon. But if it were done globally, at that level, with your annual income of thirty-two thousand four hundred dollars a year, well, then those 99% are talking about you. You, are the 1%.

• If you make a bit higher than that, fifty-two thousand six hundred, in this area you’re kind of typical. That’s the median annual income for people living in Story County. So for you, earning fifty-two grand a year you’re kind of average, locally. But globally you’re doing really, really well. You’re in the top 0.3% of wage earners globally.

• And if you make 80 thousand a year, including benefits, and after taxes, you’re in the top 0.1% of wealth globally, even more impressive. In a random sample of 1,000 people on earth, you would be the wealthiest. There are only about six million people in the world that make as much or more than you, at $80,000 a year. Only six million people in the world. Out of 7.7 BILLION. Six million people is about as many people as live in all of Minnesota. Six million people is also about as many people as live in just two Chicago counties: Cook and DuPage. Imagine, all of the people in the world that make $80,000 or more a year could live in just a part of Chicago. In just two counties in the US.

So congratulations. Maybe not to all of you, but to most of you. In a very real way most of you are rich. Some of you are extremely, extremely rich. In terms of how long you’ll live, your access to healthcare, and financial stability for you and your family it is really, really good news.

And yes, this includes your pastor. By these global standards I, too, am rich.

Troubling News
But I’ve got some troubling news for you too, fellow rich person, and it comes from our gospel reading today in Luke 12.

Here we see Jesus, teaching in a crowd, a fairly common setting in scripture. Someone says to him, “Teacher, tell my brother to give me my fair share of the family inheritance.” Jesus responds with a question, asking, what makes you think it’s my job to be a judge for you?”

If you were asked to help with a family inheritance squabble, well, you might say something similar. Or, if you were feeling helpful maybe you’d pull up the contact list on your phone and recommend a good attorney that specializes in that sort of thing.

But Jesus, sensing a teachable moment, returns his attention to the crowd, and offers some wisdom. Protect yourself against greed, he says. Jesus continues, telling those gathered that life is not defined by what you have. Even when you have a lot.

Life is not defined by what you have. Even when you have a lot.

That’s great advice, by any standard. But wait, there’s more. Jesus was not done with this teachable moment.

He then launches into the story of a rich man, a farmer, who found himself with a terrific crop. With such a great crop the man now had a problem. The crop was so big that his barn was not big enough for the harvest. “Ah, I’ve got it”, the rich man says. “Here is what I’ll do. I’ll tear down my barns and build bigger ones. Then I’ll gather all my crops in this bigger barn. And then I’ll say to myself, Self, you’ve done well! You’ve got it made! You can retire! So kick back, take it easy and have the time of your life!”

Now I don’t know about you, but to me, that sounds like a pretty smart plan. Work hard, do well, increase your holdings, save, and then retire in style. This is the kind of advice you’d expect from a skilled financial advisor like Suze Orman or Dave Ramsey. It kind of sounds like the American dream.

But then the plot twist. God shows up, in this parable from Jesus, and has something to say to this rich farmer. “Fool! Tonite you die!” Ouch! I can almost picture Mr. T – that’s the popular actor from the 80s tv show The A Team – with his trademark Mohawk, extend his index finger, pointing it this rich farmer and saying his most famous line, “I pity the fool!”

Now God doesn’t kill this rich farmer, it was just his time to go. And after all the effort this farmer put into storing those bumper crops, ironically he won’t be around to reap the benefits of what he’s sowed. But still, that’s strong language right? Especially when it’s a parable from Jesus. And a word that’s spoken by God. God just called this rich man a fool.

Wait a second…we’re rich, right? At least many of us. Did God just call us all fools? Hold on to that thought for a little bit.

Pharaoh and Joseph
There’s another story in scripture, in Genesis chapter 41, about storing a bumper crop. In this story Pharaoh has a dream, is troubled by it, and none of the wise men in his court could interpret it. Getting desperate, Pharaoh calls in a Hebrew slave named Joseph, who had gained a reputation for accurately interpreting dreams. After describing this dream Joseph replies that it is beyond his power to interpret it, but that God can tell Pharaoh the meaning.

The dream interpretation turns out to be fairly straight forward, and it’s all about feast and famine. Seven years of bumper crops, Joseph says, followed by seven years of drought. To get through the drought Joseph recommends collecting a fifth of the crop each year, and then putting that crop in Pharaohs’ massive storehouses. Sensing God was speaking through Joseph, Pharaoh gives Joseph all the resources he needs to put that plan into action.

And for the next fourteen years, the first seven with bumper crops, the next seven with severe drought, that’s exactly what happens. In the bumper crop years, a portion is put away in the storehouses. In the drought years, when the people cry out for food, Joseph opens up those storehouses and distributes grain to anyone who asks. In this way this story has a happy ending; God’s people are cared for.

Two Stories
So what do you make of these two stories? Both are about storing bumper crops. And we’ve got some rich people in both stories; scripture tells us that Pharaoh, Joseph, and the rich fool are all very well off.

But in one story the bumper crops are a good thing. In the other story, not so much. I noticed a couple of other tidbits in these stories that might impact how we look at them as well.

In the Genesis story it was God’s idea to store the bumper crops, born of a vision from Pharaoh, and interpreted by Joseph. In the Luke parable it was man’s idea.

In the Genesis story the bumper crops serve a higher purpose, to feed an entire people throughout the land. In the Luke parable, the crops were for the good of the man, for himself only.

God’s fingerprints are all over the Genesis story, from giving Pharaoh the dream, to providing Joseph the interpretation, to guiding Pharaoh to put God’s plan in motion. God isn’t even part of the Luke parable, at least until the very end. Instead it’s all about the man, his ideas, his work, his patting himself on the back for a job well done. I think God pities, truly pities, that fool.

Mr. T and Coffee
Mr. T, he who also pities the fool, is famous for wearing huge gold chains around his neck. He started doing this when he worked as a bouncer in his 20s, and became known for it. He kept up that look up for decades. Mr. T estimates that the gold he wears daily is worth about three hundred thousand dollars.

But then, when helping cleanup New Orleans after hurricane Katrina, he gave up virtually all his gold. Mr. T is quoted as saying “as a Christian, when I saw other people lose their lives, and land and property, I felt it would be wrong before God to continue wearing my gold. I felt it would be insensitive to the people who lost everything, so I stopped wearing my gold.”

During our For Such A Time As This campaign no one is going to ask you to sell all your gold. And honestly, if you have three hundred thousand dollars of gold chains like Mr. T had, wear it to church some time. I’d like to take a selfie with you.

Better yet, bring those gold chains and place them in the offering plate.

You don’t have to sell them. We’ll sell them for you 😊

But, this campaign, for you, might require some sacrifice. If you’re a fan of Starbucks, what if you gave up one coffee, at 4 bucks a pop, each week, and reinvested that right here, at Bethesda? That would come out to $208 for the year, or $624 over the 36 months of this campaign. If one person from each of the 400 families in this church did that it would come out to a quarter of a million dollars. That’s a decent chunk of the way to our goal.

And it’s only drinking one less coffee, per household, per week.

Tho if you’re more of a Dunkin Donuts person like I am, with their two-dollar coffee you’d have to give up two cups of it per week for the same impact. Which honestly just makes Dunkin Donuts customers smarter than Starbucks customers, it tastes better anyways…a sermon for some other time.

So be rich. There’s no shame in that. But be a certain kind of rich.
Don’t be like that rich guy in today’s parable.
Because that’s a pretty sad story.

Instead, be like Pharaoh.
Dream big dreams.
Keep God in the middle of those dreams.

Even better: be like Joseph.
Work to make God’s dreams a reality.
For God used him mightily.

And when the time comes – and this is an opportunity for you – open the silos of your bumper crop. Or wear a little less gold. Or drink a little less coffee. And give, joyfully, for the betterment of those around you.

For when you do, For Such A Time As This, you, my friend, will be blessed. Amen.

The Gift of Giving

Benjamin Franklin once said that money has never made man happy, nor will it.

And maybe that’s true. But talk of money, when looked at from a certain vantage, can definitely contain some humor.

Here’s a few antidotes about cold, hard cash that just might make you smile.

A woman once wrote columnist Ann Landers a letter about her aunt and uncle. In it she describes her uncle as “the tightest man I’ve ever known. Every time he got paid he took $20 out of his paycheck and put it under his mattress.” Later in life, as his health declined, and the end was near the man asked his wife to promise him something. “What is it?” his wife wondered. “Promise me when I’m gone you’ll take the money under the mattress and put it in my casket. I want to take it all with me.”

When the man died his wife kept the promise. She collected all those $20s, went straight to the bank, and deposited them. She then wrote out a check, drove to church for the funeral, and made sure to place the check in her husband’s casket.

Then there’s the story of two women marooned on an island. While one paced back and forth, all worried and scared, the other sat sunning themselves. The worrier said to the woman busily getting a tan, “aren’t you afraid we’re about to die?” “No,” she replied, setting down her paperback. “I make $100,000 a week and tithe faithfully to my church. “My Pastor will find me.”

One more. A farmer went into the church office and asked to speak with one of the “head hogs at the trough.” The receptionist replied, “if you’re referring to one of our beloved ministers, please call them Reverend or Pastor. It’s not proper to call them a hog at the trough.” The farmer said, “well ok. I just sold some sows and am going to donate $50k to the capital campaign, so I was hoping to speak with one of them.”

“Oh, just a minute, sir,” the receptionist replied, sounding somewhat apologetic. “I think I see one of those little porkers walking in!”

Our Time
This weekend begins a six-week sermon series that kicks off our three-year capital campaign. And while there may be nothing overly ha-ha funny about fundraising per se, I’d suggest there is plenty of joy, plenty of lightness in the air here of late.


Perhaps it’s that our 2019 income was the highest it’s been in at least 11 years.

Or that we’ve been named the Best Place to Worship in Story County, two years running.

Or maybe it’s new spaces recently reimagined around here, like the outdoor patio and the Crossroads.

It could be our new ministries like Days for Girls, that empower women worldwide with better access to education.

Or is it the youth mission trips to Tanzania, to learn more of what God is doing on the other side of the globe.

Or maybe it’s the joy our pastoral intern Sonja has brought us these past few months. She’s in St. Paul right now as part of her seminary education, and will be back with us later this month.

Or the silly scriptural improv of Lenten pastor chats, coming to Wednesday services soon? We’ll try to stay off any scaffolding that may pop up here this year as best we’re able. No guarantees 😊

There is so.very.much to be excited about around here at Bethesda right now.

Because of that we’ve given this campaign a theme that describes the particular moment we find ourselves in.

For such a time as this.

For it is a new day,
a new chapter,
a new season –

Of our life, together.

In the community that first gathers at 1517 Northwestern, grows in our faith, then goes out to take part, in the sacred transformation of this world God so loves.

Today’s text is from the second section of the Sermon on the Plain in Luke 6. As with any other sermon, or movie or book series for that matter, you can’t just pick up the sequel and expect to understand the back story from the first part.

Pastor Bryan made a Star Wars reference last week, so I’ll keep with that pattern here.

Star Wars the Empire Strikes Back is an amazing film; those AT-AT walkers are great. It’s one of my favorites of the entire Star Wars canon. But to fully grasp the film, you have to go back and also watch the original Star Wars: A New Hope, or you’ll be lost.

So let’s go back, to the first part of the Sermon on the Plain, and make sure we cover the important plot lines there.

We begin with a scene change. Prior to arriving at the outdoor sanctuary for his message, Jesus had been in the mountains, praying. Getting away from others. Getting close to God.

Next, he gathers the disciples twelve, heads down the mountain and stands on a level place, among a great crowd.

Which is an excellent lesson from Christ we can model.

Have your mountaintop moments, for sure.
Spend the night in prayer, definitely.

But don’t stay in isolation. Come down that mountain, find the plains, get close to humanity. Because Christ’s lessons are best delivered where God’s people are on equal footing.

Blessings and Woes
The plains sermon begins with some blessings; a smaller subset of Matthew’s Beatitudes.

Jesus blesses the poor, the hungry, those who weep.

For the poor receive the kingdom of God,
The hungry are filled,
Those weeping now laugh.

Christ has words for others gathered there that day.
The rich, those with bellies full, those who already laugh.
His words for those groups are, well, something less than positive.

At first blush this section seems to create some winners and losers.

The poor, hungry, the crying, Jesus seems to be all about them.
Yet the rich, the full bellies and the laughers, not so much.

What is good news, for some, just might be heard as bad news, for others.

Isn’t Jesus a uniter of people? Why is he separating the audience into disparate groups? Wasn’t there enough division among people then? Isn’t there enough of that now?

We’ll come back to those questions in a bit.

Christ’s sermon then moves into our text for today.

These dozen verses represent a veritable how-to manual of Christianity 101. It’s a passage with all sorts of bite-sized nuggets of wisdom.

Love your enemies.
Do good to those who hate you.
Bless those who curse you.
Pray for those who abuse you.
Do not judge, do not condemn.
Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.

Each of those could be a sermon in itself.

And nestled in with all those tidy actions we hear a lot about comes another call to action.

A call to give.
And to give in a particular kind of way.

Lend, expecting nothing in return, verse 35 implores. Ouch.

That doesn’t sound like a good investment plan.
You’re not going to hear that kind of advice from your financial advisor.

And who should we give to? If we give, expecting nothing in return, maybe it’s to people who can never repay the favor. At least when it comes to dollars and cents.

It’s here where we are called to give to the people Jesus blesses earlier in the sermon, the people of the Beatitudes.

We people of means, and I’d suggest most of us are, to some capacity –

We give to the poor, to meet basic human needs.
We give to the hungry, in search of their next meal.
We give to the sad, providing hope for a joyful tomorrow.

And we expect nothing, financially, in return.

The Sermon on the Plain begins in large brushstrokes, with Jesus proclaiming blessings to people that could really use it. It kind of reminds me of a politician on the campaign trail, busily making promises to everyone they meet. Hearing those promises makes you feel good, for a little while. But down the road, if they get elected, you might wonder, will the promise be kept?

There are reasons Congressional approval ratings are often in the teens and twenties, with high disapproval ratings the norm. Aka politicians don’t often deliver.

But Jesus? He doesn’t offer a blessing to those in need and then walk away.
He gets into the action of making those promised blessings reality. More specifically he gives *us* the divine imagination, and the means, to make those earthly blessings reality.

This is our call.

When we give, with no financial return expected, we receive blessings from another realm. It is in those moments we give as one who already shares in the riches of God’s kingdom.

Just as we all do.

For such a time as this, we give.

Some to outward mission, local, national, global.
Lifting up the poor, feeding the hungry.

Some to help us better see, and hear, the word of God in our worship.
(Screens, and speakers, an elevator, oh my)

And some to pay down debt, and pay up our endowment. Taken together they ensure the Word of God is proclaimed, and goes out from this congregation, in healing ways, for a long, long time to come.

For our giving unites the earthly haves and have nots. Our giving widens the table. Our giving ensures each of us a seat. It takes us from a world of winners and losers and toward a kingdom where all needs are met.

For when poverty is no more, when each belly is filled, when all tears are dried the kingdom of God will be fully here. And we will laugh, and sing, and dance and dine, in the glory of the Father, and the Son, and the Spirit.

For it never was, and never will be money that brings us happiness. It will be the fulfillment of Christ’s blessings for all.

For when we give, without expectation of earthly return, our sacred reward is great. We will be, both in identity and action, children of the most high God.

For when you give here it will be given to you there. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, a cup running over, with all the best God has in store for you.

Now is the moment. For such a time, as this.  Amen.

Noisy Nights

The night was destined to be anything but silent. Oh there may have been some quiet spaces between a scene change or two. Perhaps the evening contained moments of hushed adoration, picturesque enough for a Christmas card. But those were the exceptions. Outliers, in a sacred story otherwise filled with noise.

Given the tale’s prequel, this non-silent night shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

I mean, come on, angels! When they pop up it can’t help but create some buzz.

Winged divinity excitedly shared news of this most excellent development with two soon-to-be, unexpected parents. How did Mary and Joseph feel about what they’d heard?

Initially perplexed, afraid, unwilling.
Later joyous, blessed, determined.

Sure enough, were they, of this immaculate conception, they set about following the path laid out to them, from above.

Despite the challenges that might create.

Mary was so overwhelmed by it all she burst into song. Excitedly celebrating what this child, that grew within, would later do.

Her voice still echoes through the generations, even now. Especially now.

It’s Magnificat.

But what of Mary’s parents?
What of Joseph’s?
What of the neighbors?

How would they react upon hearing this same news?

Engaged pregnant young mothers tend to get people talking, don’t they? Especially when the fiancée isn’t the father. Especially when the young mother has never been with a man.

My guess? The volume in some of *those* conversations, with parents, and in-laws, and neighbors, and friends, created some decibels.

And if there was silence during these exchanges?
It certainly wasn’t of the peaceful variety.

As the newlyweds traveled, from their hometown for the census, drama couldn’t help but follow. Moving through the land of Caesar Augustus must have been surreal for this holy family. Caesar was known to many as the great king of peace. But his brand of peace came about by wars, at much human cost.

How would it be when the true king of peace arrived? When earthly rulers feel threatened they tend to speak in anything *but* hushed tones. Did Mary and Joseph know the cacophony of sounds, from world leaders, this baby would later bring?

As they drew closer to their destination birth pangs beset Mary. The two needed a place to stay. And soon. I like to think Joseph, ever the dutiful husband, pleaded for a room with whoever would listen.

Please, I beg of you, my wife is about to give birth! Don’t you have somewhere we could stay? Anywhere? Time is running out!

The pleas were heard, though accommodations were less than ideal. Any animals there, in that nativity set of unknown contents, would be up to their normal animally thing.


And what of Mary? What sounds did she make birthing the divine? For you parents, think back to your own children’s birth days. Make sure to adjust *that* volume accordingly. How quiet were you?

The scene then changes to a rural field.

And there were shepherds, giving instructions.
And there were sheep, making sheepy sounds.

And there was an angel.
And there was fear.

Which couldn’t help but be followed by pointed fingers, shouts and screams.

Winged divinity, if anything, knows how to make an appearance.

The angel then calmed the shepherd’s fears,
Sharing good news, of great joy,
For all the people.

A savior, the Messiah, was born.

A celestial GPS then illuminated the path to where the baby would be found.

The starry skyline then filled with a heavenly host too numerous to count.

Each singing, at the top of their lungs –

Glory to God in the highest,
Peace on earth, to all.

This night was turning out to be anything but silent.

The angels then exit, stage up. Perhaps that quieted things down for a bit. Before long the shepherds got excitedly talking about all they’d seen and heard.

We’ve gotta get to Bethlehem, they said.
We’ve gotta see this thing that’s happened.
It kinda sounds like a pretty big deal.

So they went.
And they found.
Mary, and Joseph, and child.

If there was silence to be had, this seminal night, the time had finally come.

This must be the Silent Night moment.
This must be the scene the song asks us to enter.

A scene where –
All is calm, all is bright,
Shepherds quake, at the sight.

Holy infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep, in heavenly peace.

The scene then closes.
The silence then lifts.
The shepherds then depart.

The shepherds then shared what had been told them about this child.
And all who heard it were amazed at what they’d been told.

The shepherds glorified God,
The shepherds praised God,
For all they had seen,
For all they had heard.

And they were anything *but* quiet about it.

How do I know?

Because two millennia later,
We still tell this tale,
As if it were yesterday.

As we make final preparations, in our hearts and in our homes, for the coming of a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, let us celebrate the peace Christ brings.

Let us make room for calm and quiet too often more the exception than the norm.

But let us remember this, as well. The world of two-thousand years ago was not wrapped up in a nice little red package with a shiny green bow on it.

It was fully human.
It was full of noise.

There were –
Unwed mothers,
Difficult circumstances,
Inconvenient truths,
Uncertain earthly peace,
Unstable earthly rulers.

It is in this context, of chaotic calamity, that Christ came.
A context perhaps not too different than our own.

It is amid life’s noise where we’re offered –
Peace, and quiet, and the hope of a silent night.
Despite what may swirl all around.

For Christ is with us, in our silent nights.
But more importantly in our really loud nights too.

Come soon, Jesus.
Grant us your peace.  Amen.

Seven Dreams

An Advent4 message on Matthew 1:18-25

Do you dream? Scientific studies suggest yes, you do. Everyone does. Every single night. Every time you sleep. For about two hours out of an eight-hour sleep cycle. If you think of the billions of people who have lived, throughout history, collectively they’ve had trillions and trillions of dreams.

Which is kind of tough to wrap your head around.

Many dreams are quickly forgotten, never making it to our conscious mind.
Some are remembered, for a time, perhaps shared with friends and family.
And precious few are written down and stay with us even longer.

What is it about dreams that make them memorable? That make them stick around long after they’ve originally been dreamed? Often it’s that they inspire something in the real world. Which makes them not just dream, but reality.

Today’s message highlights seven such dreams, and what they’ve inspired.

Sometimes dreams inspire song.  One hard day’s night in 1965 Paul McCartney found himself deep in slumber, composing a song while dreaming. When he awoke he quickly replicated the song on his piano and then wrote it down. It wasn’t a small musical fragment or just any tune, he composed the entire melody of a Beatle’s classic. All while deep in REM sleep.

Sir Paul was convinced he’d inadvertently copied the song, so he asked other musicians, for a month, whether they’d heard it before. When no else claimed it after a few weeks he figured the tune was his. These memorable chords were birthed, entirely, from dream.

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away…

Dreams can inspire story. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote for a living to support his family. That is until his case of writer’s block in 1886. For days he went about racking his brain for a plot.

Nothing would come.

Then one night he dreamed up a scene where a character, being pursued for a crime, took powder and became someone else. Right in front of his pursuers.

The dream jarred Stevenson so much he screamed in the middle of the night, causing his wife to wake him. “Why did you wake me?” he asked his wife. “I was dreaming a fine boogeyman tale.

In an era before typewriters and laptops, Stevenson then put pen to paper. And in less than six days he’d handwritten 64,000 words, a minor miracle at the time.

The book went on to sell millions of copies worldwide. The story even inadvertently coined a phrase still used to describe dual personalities, swinging between good and evil. The book? The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

And more often than you might think, dreams inspire science.

Such was the case with Niels Bohr. Known for his ability to decipher complex physics problems, Bohr set his sights on understanding the structure of the atom. But none of his configurations would fit. He was stumped. Then one night he went to sleep and began dreaming about atoms. He saw the nucleus of the atom, with electrons spinning around it, much as planets spin around the sun.

When waking the next morning Bohr immediately felt the vision was right. But he knew, as a scientist, he needed to validate the theory. His efforts soon yielded evidence of the atom’s design. Other scientists then replicated his findings. And before you know it Bohr was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery.  These days Bohr is considered the father of quantum mechanics.

And it all stemmed from a leap, in creative thinking, that stemmed from dream.

Sometimes dreams inspire society, coming to us while we’re still wide awake.

Martin Luther King Jr. had been using the language of dreams in sermons for several years before his famous 1963 speech. Given from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC, in front of 250,000 civil rights supporters, King initially spoke from prepared remarks.

Towards the end of his speech, friend and gospel singer Mahalia Jackson cried out “Tell them about the dream, Martin!” So he did. In it, he imagines a world of different design, where all people are treated as equal.

The speech later led to a slew of new legislation, including the 1960s Civil Rights Act, Voting Rights Act, and Fair Housing Act. While we still haven’t arrived, in many ways, when it comes to issues of race in the US, the speech still stays with us. Still points us to a brighter future.

All because of the power of the language of dreams.

Dreams can inspire identity. Such was the case for Jacob, son of Isaac, brother to Esau. Jacob, after stealing his father’s blessing, and running from the brother he stole it from, a brother who was looking to kill him, had a dream. In this dream there was a ladder, set on earth. The ladder went straight up to heaven, with angels ascending and descending on it. In the dream God promised Jacob the land where he slept. And promised his offspring would be blessed.

Awakening from the dream Jacob’s fears had now been released. No longer scared, he now knew God’s plans. He then pursued God’s plans. Jacob found work, then married, having twelve children. Children who each became heads of their own family groups, later known as the twelve tribes of Israel.

Jacob dreamed, as inspired by God. A dream that helped birth a blessed people.

Dreams, sometimes, inspire trust. That definitely applies to Joseph, he of the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Genesis records all sorts of dreams Joseph was part of. As a young man, he dreamed he’d one day rule over his brothers and parents. As you might guess when he shared that great with family it went over like a lead balloon. Not liking Joseph’s interpretation one bit, his brothers dropped him in a pit, leaving him alone, with no way out.

After being found, and then enslaved, Joseph then rose through the palace ranks. Eventually, he gained the trust of Pharaoh himself by interpreting a troubling dream Pharaoh had. Those seven frail cows who ate the seven fat cows in the dream? That means seven good years, of harvest, followed by seven bad years, of famine. Plan wisely, Joseph suggested.

Pharaoh did. And all that came to pass. With trust now gained, Joseph was able to provide for his family, fulfilling that first dream over a decade after having it.

Every-so-often, when the planets align, and the divine descends down among us, dreams inspire hope. Our final dream story begins with another Joseph. One engaged to a girl named Mary.

This Joseph, by all accounts, was a stand-up guy. He followed the customs of the day. When he and Mary were betrothed they still lived apart. And before getting married, before moving in together, before doing anything overly interesting Joseph learned, suddenly, mysteriously, his fiancée was with child.

And Joseph was not the daddy.

Uh oh.

It’s a storyline good enough for a telenovela.

Oh the thoughts that must have raced through his brain.
Mary’s explanation couldn’t have provided much solace.

Not wanting to disgrace his beloved, but now not wanting to commit to her either, Joseph made plans to quietly part ways.

This couldn’t have been the way it was supposed to be.
At least not the way Joseph thought it was supposed to be.

He’d found someone he cared for.

They began to make plans.
Plans for their home.
Plans for their family.
Plans to celebrate.

Their life trajectory, as far as Joseph was concerned, had been all planned out.
And now *this*

Why me? Joseph must have wondered.

It is against this backdrop Joseph laid down his head to sleep.
It is under these circumstances when Joseph began to dream.

In it an angel came to him, calming his fears. The angel asked Joseph to take Mary as his wife. For the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

She will bear a Son, the angel continued.
Name him Jesus. For he will save his people from themselves.

All will be as spoken,
through the prophet,
A virgin shall conceive,
And bear a son.

And they shall name him Emmanuel.
Which means God is with us.

The angel then departed.
Joseph then awoke.

Joseph then did, as the angel of the Lord, advised.

And a new path, one that Joseph had never planned for, became clear.
A new path, that didn’t impact just –

One woman, or
One man, or
One family.

But left a lasting mark on so many more.

And for the rest of *that* story?
Tune in, Christmas Eve 😊

Dreams have power. Power to take us from our current reality, as great or as awful as it may seem, and lead us to a place so much better.

Dreams inspire song, story, science, society, identity, even trust.

Facing moments of trouble, problems with seemingly no solution, divinely inspired dreams do something marvelous.

They inspire hope.

It is that hope that Joseph woke up with.
It is that hope that enabled him to press on.

Do you dream? Yes, of course, you do. Every single night.

This year may your dreams be of so much more than just visions of sugarplums or even a white Christmas.

Lord, show us your dreams,
Reveal to us your Savior,
Awaken us from our slumber.

Full of hope.

Not just for today. Or tomorrow. But forever.  Amen.