A Sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany

Denise Levertov a very fine poet has a poem that talks about a wishing well. She said when she was young there was this beautiful spring--it bubbled out of the ground--it was less than three feet across. She said she and others would come there to dream their dreams. To stretch their imaginations and to warm their hearts. Nobody threw money in the pool back then. Maybe money was too scarce--even pennies. So when they made a wish they would throw a stone into the water. She said, for her, it was magical place. A place of wonder and glory. It became a launching pad from where she would journey forth into a larger world. Years later she went back home and visited the wishing well. To her horror--she found the well clogged with bottles, tin cans, paper and plastic. She wondered who would throw rubbish in such a place? Who in their right minds would destroy the stream? She wondered if the stream could be cleaned out--and if so, if it might live again. She wondered if yet another generation of children just might find some magic and wonder and hope as she too had found in that special spot.

I CORINTHIANS 1. 1-9

Word came to Paul in Ephesus that the Church he had started in Corinth was having a terrible time. On his second missionary journey Paul had established a church there with the help of Priscilla and Aquila and Silas and Timothy in that port city of 600,000. In about 50 AD they built a strong church--you might even call it a wishing well. In that wildest of secular cities--where immorality was rampant--they damned up this little stream. And, in time, it became a place of healing and wholeness. Paul stayed there a year and a half before he moved on. Five years later--word came that the stream he had worked so hard to build--was clogged. The church was broken into factions. There were incredible problems. Incest, they were divided over leadership, split between rich and poor, slave and free. They were suing each other in the courts. They got drunk at the Lord's Table. They couldn't agree on anything. And so the stream once pure, fresh and magical--was clogged with the sins and debris of that age.


And so Paul wrote First and Second Corinth in the hope that they just might unclog the stream. That they might once again rediscover the wonder of the wishing well. It was a personal  word to the church. After his opening remarks found in the first three verses of First Corinthians 1 He began the letter with a Prayer of Thanksgiving. Fred Craddock has called it a Pastoral Prayer. The old first Pastor lifted up his longings for his beloved people. In the prayer he articulated the church's needs in Corinth. That prayer dealt with practical concerns. This prayer would serve as a table of contents for the whole of First Corinthians. But this prayer was more than all that. It was a careful prescription for how Corinth might carefully and tediously stoop down and begin to clean out the debris, the clutter that clogged the healing stream.

Paul gave Corinth five suggestions in his prayer. To this troubled, troubled Church, in grave danger of extinction--he writes a prayer of hope. This is what he says.

GRACED

"I give thanks to God always for you because of the grace of God which was given you in Christ Jesus..."(vs.1). You have been graced. As Corinth muttered and complained and fought and whined--Paul called them back. His approach was interesting. No looking over his glasses and saying: "You are wrong." No tut-tut. No shaking his head. No judgment at all. He called them back to the heart of their faith. Grace. Without this grace, this amazing grace, there would be no church and no stream.

So our binding tie is not doctrine--important though it is. Not history--rich though it is. Not culture or law. Not "Thou Shalt Not..." What keeps us together, Paul said, is this grace of God--given to you in Jesus Christ.

Garrison Keillor underlines this point in his book We Are Still Married, "To know and serve God, of course, is why we're here, a clear truth that, like the nose on your face, is near at hand and easily discernible but can make you dizzy if you try to focus on it hard. But a little faith will see you through. What else will do except faith in such a cynical corrupt time? When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word." And then he adds: "Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things: through cooking and small talk, through storytelling, making love, fishing, tending animals and sweet corn and flowers and small talk, music and books, raising kids--all the places where the gravy soaks in and grace shines through."
Paul says you unclog the stream when you begin with grace.

ENRICHED

The second thing the Apostle said was "that in every way you were enriched in him with all speech and all knowledge."(vs.5) Not only have you been graced but you have been enriched. Paul wrote you begin to unclog the healing stream when you remember you are wealthy. He told that shabby little church that could hardly pay their bills that they were rich.  Now I would not have said that. That troubled fussy group. Saying nasty things about their former Pastor. Sounds like to me they needed some: Why don't you clean up your act. Change your ways. Don't you know you are tearing the church to pieces. Give them hell. Let 'em have it. Not Paul. He said if you want to unclog the stream in Corinth you must remember you are wealthy. From the words of your lips to the understanding of your hearts you are a wealthy people.

Russell Conwell was a great preacher of another day. He went all over the country preaching one sermon that made him famous: "Acres of Diamonds." Do you know what he said? In your own backyard there are all the treasures you'll ever, ever need. Corinth had forgotten that as we forget it, too. We unclog the stream when we rediscover the wealth, the riches of our lives.

GIFTED

The next thing Paul said was that: "You are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of the Lord Jesus Christ."(vs.7) You have been gifted. Corinth was divided over spiritual maturity. Who was a first class Christian? Those whose character was impeccable? But there were those others. Newcomers. Slaves, Poor. Not aware of the traditions in Corinth. Why they didn't know a Doxology from a Benediction. Paul says: there is no pecking order in church. Generals, Colonels, Sergeants and Privates. And Paul wrote: None of you are lacking in the gifts of God.

Isn't that what brought this church into being.? Not only was it a problem of race. It was also a problem that there was this pecking order. And their former Pastor reminded them:  Everybody has a gift. And our job is to uncover those gifts and call them forth.

At a community meeting not too long ago a black man stood up and told us that he was addicted to drugs and alcohol. He lived under a bridge. He was utterly destitute. But somebody at the Firehouse Shelter took an interest. Loved him. Listened to him. Took him seriously. Had his teeth fixed. Helped him sober up. He now runs an office supply company. He said every time I see some homeless person walking down a street I say: That could be me. But somebody believed in him. There was not a dry eye when he got through telling his story. Do you see what call said? We all have a gift.

STRENGTHENED

Paul wasn't through. He had only started, really. He wrote to Corinth: "...the Lord Jesus Christ...will sustain you to the end...God is faithful...:(vs.7b-9a) Graced. Enriched. Gifted. And now: You have been strengthened by God. I love the way Clarence Jordan translated it in the Cotton Patch Version: "He will stand by you come what may." Or another translation says: "He will see to it that you will be able to hold out to the end." You want to unclog the stream and let the water flow, Corinth? Then remember God is faithful. He'll give you all you need.

You know remember the Y2K anxiety. As we approached the year 2,000 gloom and doom was everywhere. Why computers were going to shut down. Planes would fall from the sky, cash registers wouldn’t work—our Visa bills would be a nightmare. Doctors would lose your records--you'd never get your Social Security stuff straightened out. It went on and on. Put all those fears down beside the 2011 fears. The country is in a mess. The economy has tanked. We can’t seem to resolve anything in Washington. People are scared and many are saying our best days are behind us. As 2000 happened the sky did not fall and we moved into a New Year and millennium. Don’t we need a reminder for our time, too?

But down beside all this madness, Paul says: He will see to it that you will be able to hold our to the end. This was the ground of Paul's confidence. Not in some computer. Not even in the vast talent in Corinth. No. We are strengthened by the grace of God as God’s people have always discovered in hard times.

WATER

Paul said the water, the pure water would begin to return to the stream. "By him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."(vs. 9) If the stream flows pure and clean--we will know that we have been called into a fellowship.

This is no private matter. The stream belongs to everybody. Everybody. We have almost forgotten the common good. Later, speaking of divisions, Paul would say: "The hand cannot say to the foot, I have no need of you..." If one part hurts, all hurt.


The last thing Jesus ever prayed was that they, scattered and different, would be one. That you might be one as the Father and Son are one. It means that we are all included in the family. We all have a place at the Table. It means that you and I have some responsibility to every member of the family. Anything that hurts the body is wrong. It clogs the stream. It blocks the flow of water that everybody needs. It hinders the work God dreamed for Corinth.


Let me tell you a story. It helped me see once more how vital and important this stream really is. I went back to the second church I ever served some time ago. And they had videoed the service that day and gave me a copy when I left. It was a little tiny church on a busy highway. If you were driving by chances are you would miss it. In that visit back we had a wonderful time. It was just as Baptist and predictable and country as any place you have been. A little choir of about twelve people sang off-key and loud on every song. Over the choir was the round window of Jesus praying in the Garden.  As the video started Frances strode up to the pulpit. She had been nine years old when I was there. She was raised back of the store by a mother with five children and had nothing except food stamps. She stood and talked about how the church how helped her come to know that God loved her and she was important. “I’m still here,” she said, “and I still believe God loves me.” Virl followed her and talked about how her husband would never set foot in the church. ”We had all these kids,” she said, “and nobody to help me. But one day Junior came to church and he walked down the aisle and became a Christian. Now he’s a deacon. This church changed our lives,”  Rob came and talked about how his father and mother had been charter members of that church. His Mama had been President of the WCTU and quite a force to be reckoned with. Her husband was always there fixing and helping and working and loving. Always a deacon. The video panned across the room and there was Beulah and her five children. When her husband died and she didn’t think she could make it—the church was there and helped. Roy came to the platform. He was a big road contractor who said, “During the hard days when I was shot at by the newspapers for political reasons, I couldn’t have made it without this church.” He would come by my office when I was there and say, “Preacher, what does the church need?” And I would tell him and he would take his check book and write a check, hand it to me and say, “Don’t tell nobody.” It was an all-too-human place but somehow  these people as human as you and me came togerther. And in the coming they discovered a well of water deep and pure and it kept them going.

They ended that service by singing the old gospel song, “What a fellowship, what a joy divine…” It may have been a mite off key and very loud but it brought tears to my eyes:

“Leaning on the everlasting arms.

What blessedness, what a peace is mine,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.


What have I to dread, what have I to fear,
Leaning on the everlasting arms?
I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.”

If drove down that highway this morning and pulled into the parking lost around eleven o’clock the doors would be open and the bell would ring and church would start. And the wishing well will be in full operation. It will be far from perfect, but the well will be working. Isn’t this what Paul had in mind? There is some place where we really are graced and enriched and gifted and strengthened and called into a fellowship. That is no small thing.

Great article on the Myths of death panels

Today's Birmingham News had a superb article by Jo Alison Taylor on the myth of death panels. She tackles the subject in such a positive and helpful way I'm pushing her article if you  want to read something clear-headed about health care and this scare campaign about death panels. Some columnist said that if you write or say something in the media five times it becomes fact. Inundated as we are with more information and pseudo-information than we can possibly sort through--the crazies are having a hey-day. Forty million uninsured people in this country--we are going to have to do something! Lying simply will solve nothing.
Check out this article attacking death panels. http://blog.al.com/birmingham-news-commentary/2011/01/my_view_death_panel_prattle_is.html

Pat Conroy's New Book--A Great Read

If you are a book lover I highly recommend Pat Conroy’s new book, My Reading Life. I have been a fan of most of Conroy’s books and when I saw the advertisement for this book I felt this should be a treat. I was not disappointed.

The book traces his love affair with books. It all began when his Mother, who did not have a chance to go to college, was a reader. When he was five years old his mother began to read Gone With the Wind, of all things, to him. He said early he learned of the power and authority of fiction from those early readings.

Conroy was a voracious reader but this volume is much than a-books-that-I –have-read-list. He writes about the people along the way that took the time to listen to him, to encourage him and put books in his hands. There was an English teacher, Mr. Norris who opened up a whole new world to this high school student. He took Conroy under his wing and took him to fine restaurants, taught him what forks, spoons and knives went where and how you should eat. He introduced him to Archibald Rutledge, the poet laureate of South Carolina. In 1994 when Conroy was to address the Booksellers Convention he flew Mr. Norris out to the convention first class. And when Conroy spoke he saluted his old teacher. This story might trigger something in your own imagination as it did mine. I remember some teachers in my own life that took the time to listen, that open the windows and introduced me to a world I had never known. One wonders where we would be with those who stopped and listened and cared.

This book takes us through much of Conroy’s life and how books played such a part at every junction of his journey. He writes beautifully about libraries and bookshops and people along the way. Thomas Wolfe influenced him greatly as did James Dickey and a great host of others. I had a friend that used to say there were God-guided books that came into our lives at just the right time. I’ve thought about that sentence a lot through the years because like Conroy and so many others I have found life taking a different direction because of a book that fell into my lap when I needed it most.

One of the last chapters is this moving book is entitled, “Why I write.” Conroy says that he writes to explain his life to himself. Who was it, Kafka maybe that said that a good book is an axe that chops away the frozen sea within us. Conroy says he wrote because he loved the sound of words that he first began to learn from his Mother with her gorgeous Southern accent. Early on Conroy writes that he set for himself the endless task of reading and incorporating books of great vision.

Mr. Norris, Pat Conroy’s English teacher lay dying in a Columbia (SC) hospital. The last thing he ever said to the student he was most proud of was: “Tell me a story.” Mr. Norris would have loved this book. It tells a story which takes the reader down his or her own memory lane where we just might remember our own stories, places and faces that have changed our lives. Read this good book and see for yourself.

The King's Speech--Time for Applause

The King’s Speech is a film of a most unlikely friendship. In one corner we have a stuttering would-be king of England and in the other corner a failed-actor-speech therapist barely eking out a living. The film opens as Prince Albert (Bertie) attempts to open the British Empire Exhibition in 1925. Standing before the microphone the speech was a disaster. The Prince could only utter a few words without long pauses and stutters. He left that event defeated.

The question that lurks at the edge of the story is: How can a King lead a nation if he cannot speak to his subjects and to the world at large? Radio was just beginning to make inroads in the world and Prince Albert knew he was in trouble. After many therapists his wife Elizabeth discovered therapist Lionel Logue and drags her husband to see him. One of the strands in the movie is the study in class between the Prince and the shabby unknown therapist. Sparks fly. Teacher Logue sets the ground rules. The Prince must meet on his turf—not the King’s. They would call each other first names. The King explodes: “Nobody calls me Bertie outside the palace. You will address me as Prince Albert.” The Therapist stand firm: in that room there would be only Bertie and Lionel—no pecking order.


The film reminded me of the Helen Keller-Annie Sullivan story. Slowly, after many false starts Lionel begins to break through the King’s crust and phobias. Prince Albert becomes King and Lionel is by his side. When the new King gives his first address at Westminster Abby when he is crowned—Lionel encourages and stands by him. The new King did not stumble.

One of the most serious speeches the King would ever give was when he talked to his nation and the world by radio about England’s entering the war against the Nazis. Lionel was there nudging him on. King George VI never made a major address without Lionel being there.


The film is multi-layered. There is the transcending of class, of a terrible speech problem, the formation of an enduring friendship by two most unlikely people. Moviegoers watch the transformation from a man with a terrible affliction slowly able to overcome this difficult problem. It was a moving story right out of the history books.


Why moving? Many reasons. The wonder of what one human being might do for another. The power of strong relationships. The truth that we can all overcome a great deal more than we ever imagined. The King’s young wife, Elizabeth stood by his side and helped him find his way. She would become the beloved Queen Mother England so loved. I wondered if the King would have ever been able to overcome his stuttering without the love and encouragement of his wife.


A friend told me that when she saw the movie that as it ended the whole theatre broke loose in applause. I can understand that response. As the credits scrolled across the screen and the movie’s end, I rubbed tears from my eyes. I was reminded again of what human beings can do for one another. I recommend The King’s Speech to everybody. It will lift your spirits and make you glad again that you are a member of the human family. This is a rare and wonderful movie.

A Sermon for the 1st Sunday after Epiphany

When I started working on the story of Jesus' baptism—I remembered back to one my favorite baptismal memories. The year was 1978. It was a South Carolina Sunday afternoon. We were scheduled to baptize that evening. The Lovette family had been on vacation and just got into town that afternoon because our son was to be baptized that evening. But there was a hitch. When we got to the church someone had forgotten to fill up the baptistery. There was no water. We had planned the service carefully around one particular young man that would be baptized. His father was seriously ill with cancer. We had structured this service between chemotherapy treatments which made his father so sick. We had asked that man to have the baptismal prayer for his son and the other candidates. So, as happens so often in church, we had to come up with a contingency plan. We called a family with a swimming pool as the worshippers gathered and asked them if we could use their swimming pool for our service. They reluctantly agreed. I can just imagine what frantic preparations they made getting rid of all the bottles and cans. But I was heartsick. This was a big day for my son and the man with cancer had come with great pain to see his own son baptized. I could just see people standing around that pool snickering. But that was not the case. Something happened that sunny afternoon. The grace of God moved among us. None of us present will ever forget that particular baptism. One of the things that made the evening so special was the pale, bald-headed father, dying of cancer. He pulled from his pocket a prayer he had written for his own nine-year-old son and the other candidates. This is what he prayed:

Heavenly Father, at this time we would like to dedicate these young people to You as they choose to become members of Your intimate family through the sacrament of Baptism. Remember how You led Your chosen people out of Egypt by Your show of power at the waters of the Red Sea? Please show the same power for these boys tonight and protect them as You protect all your children. Remember how You led Your chosen people through the waters of the river Jordan to let them enter the Promised Land? please lead these boys through the trials and joys of life to the heaven You promise to those who follow Your way. Remember how You gave salvation to the world by the blood and water that flowed from Your son’s side on the cross? Please give the same salvation to thee boys as they enter the waters of baptism as Your adopted sons. Remember how You sent the Holy Spirit to Your close followers on Pentecost and gave them the courage to be brave Christians in their words and actions. Please send the same Holy Spirit into these boys tonight so that they can carry out Your teachings in their lives. Be with us all, Heavenly Father, so that we can also live out the power of our baptism in our own lives. Amen.”

No one present will ever forget that special moment. After the service this man, so sick, took all the boys baptized that evening for a celebration at McDonalds. It was this man’s last public appearance. Weeks later we would have his funeral.

What God Wants Us To Be

So when Jesus stood in the River Jordan to be baptized by John—this was no small thing. The light of Epiphany shone on this incident not only letting us know what God is like, but as Kathleen Norris puts it, here we see what God wishes us to be. Matthew realized that something profound was happening that day in the water. Something momentous was taking place when John gently placed Jesus under the water. This would become the source of all that would follow.

Years later when Martin Luther would be dogged by depression and difficulty. When he found life hard and tedious he would touch his forehead and say: "Baptismatus sum"--I have been baptized. And this simple remembering would bring him back to the fact that he was God's child and God was always with him. And I wonder is there not some holy power for us too, in times of stress and difficulty, to remember our own baptisms. The vows we made. The promises we said we would keep.

Obedience to God's Will

What did the church see in this wonderful story of Jesus standing in the River Jordan and being baptized by John? Jesus said that he did this because it was what God wills. One Sunday, long ago you walked down the aisle, they were singing: "Where He Leads Me I Will Follow." Maybe they were singing softly, “Just as I am without one plea…” And you stood there with tears in your eyes knowing you would go wherever he called and do whatever he said. We meant it with all our hearts. But they did not really know all that it meant to follow him, to follow him all the way. We would learn later of temptations and doubts and days when we wondered about all of this. And sometimes for all of us the years take their toll and we forget sometimes the vows we made back there. But let us pause this morning and remember our own baptisms. The time when we first started and what it meant to us day. “Happpy day, happy day—when Jesus washed my sins away. He taught me how to watch and pray and live rejoicing every day. Happy day, happy day when Jesus washed our sins away.” So this morning I want you to remember that special time and the promises you made. But there is more to remember.

When Jesus was baptized it meant he was to be obedient to the will of the Father. It meant for him to live out the vision in the days that would follow. It isn't hard to stand at some altar and say: "Yes Lord I do love you. Yes Lord I will follow you always.” But saying and doing are sometimes poles apart. We all know that.

Don't you think it was hard for Jesus when the disciples did not understand, when his family turned away, when he came unto his own and they received him not? Don't you think it was hard that the longer he preached the fewer and fewer they came until there came that day when he was alone on a hill and the soldiers gambled and the crowds sneered. Hebrews would later say, when the church was tempted to turn away and leave: "...let us lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted."(Hebrews 12.1a-3)

What does it mean to be obedient? What does it mean to keep the vows that we made one time? We do know it means to listen, to give attention to the things he asks. It is an action word--and, as the years go by, the demands change. They do not stay the same. Someone has said that when you obey it is sometimes the only possible evidence that you believe in God.

Once James Thurber told of his friend Ross who was always there, always counted on. And he said: "He just kept going like a bullet-torn battle flag and nobody captured his colors and nobody silenced his drums." This is what it means to be obedient. Like the song the missionary taught those in the village. This was the song he taught them:

“Go on, Go on, Go on, Go on,

 Go on, Go on, Go on, Go on,

 Go on, Go on, Go on, Go on,
 Go on, Go on, Go on, Go on.”

  We Are Beloved

We learn from our Lord that to be baptized is to obey on good days and bad. But there is one more thing I see in this story.When Jesus was baptized, he heard God's voice saying: You are my beloved son. And it was this memory of a voice he heard on the day of his baptism that kept him going through all the hard things of his life. When the crowds came and pressed. When Judas and Peter denied . When he hung on the cross. He remembered that voice that told him who he was. He was God's beloved.

Baptism reminds us that we are God's beloved too. He gave his only son for the likes of us. That we should not perish--that we should have eternal life. Abundant life. Remember what his disciples there toward the end. “These things I have spoken to you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.”(John 15.11) That we should not live our lives in someone else's shadow. That we need not try to be someone else. But we can simply come to terms with who we are and know that is a very good thing. We are beloved. Right now. Right here. We are beloved of God.


One of the great short story writers and poets of our time was a man named Raymond Carver. He had a hard life. Alcohol almost killed him. It did destroy his marriage, his relationship with his children--he lost years and years he could never recover. But later in life, he gave up drink, he sobered up, he met a young woman and they were married and he began to write again. And he began to discover some wonders about living and loving he had never known. But he developed lung cancer which would finally take his life. But the last poem he ever wrote was this:

"And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth."


Like Jesus, if we ever learn that we are of worth and infinite value to God it will do for us what it did for Jesus. It will take us every step of the way. And where he leads us we will follow...and we will go on and on and on because we will know it is good and right and true.

And so I would challenge you remember your baptism. Those vows you made to love him and serve him. I want you to think back on when it was. Remember your baptism. Recommit yourself to following this will of God. To learning once more what it means to obey. To discover, even as you go that you are beloved--beloved of God. And this is why, after all these years, we still baptize people when they declare their faith. “Happy day, happy day—when Jesus washed my sins away. He taught me how to watch and pray and live rejoicing every day—Happy day, happy day—when Jesus washed my sins away.”

A Word for Epiphany

I discovered this above quote some time ago and have passed it on to many people. Is there really a better word for Epiphany?

"The light has come into the world and the darkness cannot put it out."

Prayer for Epiphany

"Silently now we would open our hearts to thy presence, which is our hope, and all the beauty of life is its shadow. Teach us thy truth, and grant us to bear ourselves highly it in. Bring us to show mercy, as thou art merciful. So let thy mind be ours, through him who is thy love to us. Amen. "

                                                 --Paul E. Scherer, Love is a Spendthrift

Could God be in our Details?

Every once in a while somebody will say: "I loved the service all except the announcements. Someone told me it was like scraping your fingernails down a blackboard. You come to church to worship. The announcements spoiled the whole thing." I understand perfectly. ''How Great Thou Art'' is light years away from ''Would those stragglers who didn't sign your pledge card pick up your card today and fill it out so the church won't go under." There have been times when I would have given anything to put a moratorium on the announcements. Do you have any idea how many people through the years have slipped me a note as I was walking into church and says, "Preacher , you got to make this announcement." And as I sit in the chair into church and says: waiting to the service to begin I read the announcement: ''Don't forget to tell everybody to save all their Quaker Oats boxes for Bible School. We'll need about a hundred. Tell them to cut off the tops smoothly and not to crush them. Bring them outside the church office and put them in the Tide box. We need them by next Monday morning at 9:00 sharp." There are a few times when you want to run outside the church screaming.

Over the years I've changed my mind about announcements in church. I'm beginning to think they anchor us. They tie the church to reality. They connect us with the world outside these doors. Somehow what we do here is linked to what happens next Friday morning at the Fire House Ministry or reminding someone that if you are going on that mission trip you have until Wednesday afternoon to sign up. Or please bring your blankets to the church and put them in the box out there for Katrina victims. And every time we make these announcements it brings us all back to the real world out there where we all do battle when we leave here.

John's Christmas story is unlike all the other stories. 'There are no Shepherds, no Bethlehem, no Herod or Wise Men. Why there is no Joseph or Mary. There's not a donkey within a hundred mites. His story goes like this: ''In the beginning was the word... '' It is as beautiful as any verse in the Bible. And in the middle of all this beauty there breaks in this announcement: ''The word became flesh '' The word became what? The word became flesh. Sarx. John did not say the word entered flesh. Like the Exorcist, some force just comes in and takes over. No, not at all. This gospel says in those first verses that the word became flesh.

The Greeks couldn't believe it. They wanted the Logos. the Word without all the embellishments. Forget the announcements. Forget the troubled world. In the beginning was the Word. isn't that beautiful? But John couldn't leave it alone. He had to spoil it. The word became flesh. Flesh was sinful. There was no way God would enter flesh, they said. So there arose in the church those that cushioned the blow. The body was evil. Everybody knew that. It was a burden. Lust, arthritis, back pains--depression-old age--weaknesses-death. How could God possibly dwell in flesh? And so they worked it all out. It was the first heresy of the church. This is what they said. Jesus appeared to be man. Emphasis on: the appear. He did not feel pain, hunger, weariness or sorrow. He was not a real bonafide man you see-he just looked like a man.

But John comes back with this announcement. He steps up to the microphone and clears his throat and says: "Excuse me but: The word became flesh." And if this wasn't enough his gospel would talk about a Jesus who got tired and sat on the ledge of a well and asked for water of a prostitute because he was thirsty. He was tempted by the devil. He would weep over the city. He got so hungry he had to eat. He would push away from the crowds because he was exhausted and had to rest. He lashed out at the moneychangers and brushed real tears from his eyes at the tomb of his dear friend the dead Lazarus. He would be hungry. And when he asked those reluctant disciples: "Will you go away?''--we see him lonely. And there toward the end he would tell the Father that he did not want to die. And then he hung on a cross and his life's blood trickled way drop by drop. Remember what he said? “My God why hast thou forsaken me?” And what John says is that this is the place-flesh--where the Holy is found. The seemingly unholy. The announcements.

Kathleen Norris moved with her husband some twenty years ago from New York City to a little border town between North and South Dakota. They moved into a small house built by her grandparents in 1923. It was the house where her Mother had grown up. It is in Lemmon, South Dakota. She said they were in the middle of nowhere. The closest Greyhound Bus stop was ninety miles away. She drove 200 miles one night to a poetry reading--and when it was over, she turned around and drove 200 miles back home. They lived a long way from a Grocery store and a longer way to any mall. She said there was a J.C. Penney's but it closed for lack of business. There is not a McDonald's or Wal-Mart in sight. And she writes about this experience in her book called simply, Dakota. In the book, over and over, she said she has learned the strangest thing out there in the wind-swept plains. She has learned that God is in the details.

Details? We talk about the big picture. Sweeping and grand. Stereophonic music in the background-or hard rock or country or elevator music or anything but quiet. And down beside our every evasion John writes in bold letters: The word became flesh. The Son of God became flesh. A particular child born to particular parents in a particular spot in a particular time. And there among the details--shepherds, animals, steaming dung, draft barn, manger in corncrib and a mean King-the light was absolutely dazzling.

Fred Craddock says that God paid us an incredible compliment. He comes as a baby. He comes in the family setting. Father, Mother, Grandparents, Cousins--the whole shebang. He comes to poverty. He comes down a side street in a town you can hardly find on the map.The result? What was the result? Most didn't get it at all. ''Sweet little Jesus boy we didn't know who you wuz." Why did so many miss it? Craddock says that God whispered and those waiting for a shout heard nothing.

It's as good a New Year's message as I know. Where shall we find him in this brand new year if we find God at all? Look close. Don't look over there. Look close. God is in the details of your life.

When PTL was in its hey-day they decorated the place with over a million lights at Christmas. People came from everywhere and drove around and just marveled at the color and the beauty of it all. Long, long lines of people just bumping into each other from everywhere--all over the whole country. And one night during Christmas, I flipped to PTL and some Preacher had just returned from Bethlehem and Jim and Tammy Faye were jumping up and down as usual. And they were interviewing this man who just come back from the Holy Land. And he told Jim and Tammy Faye, ''Now I liked Bethlehem, don't get me wrong, but it wouldn't hold a candle to this place, Jim. This is Christmas.''

And down beside that we place John first words: ''The word became flesh full of glace and truth and we beheld his glory." Not all beheld that glory. He came unto His own and His own received him not. Most of the world, like that innkeeper, did not have a clue. Truthfully, tell me the truth, would he possibly come down your street and stop at your house? Nah. Too ordinary. Nothing special about us. Not a Bible on the coffee table. And you should see the mess we left the house in to come to church. Jesus wouldn't come there. Or we hope not, not our house.

But John says: God is in the details. Your details. Mine. Our house and my house. And maybe that's what 2011 is all about. God is calling us to behold the glory. John says: we beheld the glory. Not the eyewitnesses. Not the Shepherds, not the Wise Men, not even Mary and Joseph. No. We. The Church, at least some in the early church, would write Brookwood--where we are and in what we face-we can see the glory-the glory of God. This God is not remote or far away. He is embedded in the details of your life and mine.

When I was Pastor in Kentucky there hung on the back wall of the little sanctuary we had, a very fine painting. lf you squinted your eyes and looked closely, you'd see more than a waterfall, green grass, tall trees. lf you looked closely you could see a figure. His arms were outstretched and he was hanging on a cross.

I asked about the artist. Oh, someone explained. The man that painted that picture went to school here. Good artist. Got married. They had a lot of trouble. Had a hard time with faith, just found it real hard to believe. Didn't come to church much. They had a bad experience somewhere along the way. Well, while they were there, their little baby got sick and died.

Jane Kenyon writes about this kind of grief in her poem, ''A Sandy Ho1e.''

The infant's coffin no bigger than flightbag

The young father steps backward from the sandy hole,

eyes wide and dry, his hand over his mouth.

No one dares to come near him, even to touch his sleeve.2

But in that church in Kentucky the real church did come near. They surrounded them. They brought casseroles. They cried and prayed. They lifted this family up week after hard week. And somehow the couple made it through that terrible time. And when they graduated and started to leave they left a gift for Faith Baptist Church. It was a painting that the man had done. It was a landscape. There was some darkness in the picture. A waterfall and green grass. And if you squinted and look closely there at the center of it all--buried among the details was the man on a cross. Even in the hardness of their days they had discovered what John had said years before. ''The word becomes flesh, full of grace and truth, and we have beheld his glory. ''

As so as we slowly make your way into this brand New Year let us keep our eyes wide open. Who knows? Even in the details of our lives God may be there and if we find any glory at all this year we will find it in the most unexpected of places.

1. Fred B. Craddock, John (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982 p. 13

2. Jane Kenyon, Otherwise, ''The Sandy Hole'' (Saint Paul, Minn., Graywolf Press, 1996)