Second Advent, 2004:

I grew up with a boy named Freddie Trail who hated school.  We would go out for recess and, if the teacher wasn’t looking, Freddie would head off down the road toward home.  He was sick a lot and our teacher in a three room school would wait until lunchtime to call Freddie’s house to speak to his mother.  One day when Freddie did not show up for school, the teacher called his house as usual.  She heard a small voice say, “Hello,” and she asked why Freddie wasn’t in school?  “Oh, he’s bad sick today, teacher.  Too sick to be in school,” the voice said.

“With whom am I speaking?” the teacher asked.

“My brother,” said the voice.

I wonder what those who are not here today might say if we called them every time they were absent from Sunday worship.  But, that’s not our job anyway.

A rather skinny fellow applied for a job with a logging company.  He put down on the application that he had learned a great deal of his skill as a lumberjack in the Sahara Forest.  The personnel manager noticed this and called the man in for an interview.  “Don’t you mean the Sahara Desert?”

The skinny fellow said, “Sure, now it’s called that!”

We must concern ourselves with another desert this morning.  The purpose of Advent is to help us get to Bethlehem.  There is only way to get there.  We must journey out into the Judean desert, go just beyond the dryness, and come to the River Jordan.  There we find a strange looking man, standing waist-deep in the water, spewing forth invectives and disturbing words.  His is the voice Isaiah had prophesized would be heard seven hundred years earlier.  It would be heard just before God’s anointed one would arrive.  His words were spoken in a physical desert but would be directed to the desert in the human heart, both then and now. 

The words of John the Baptizer are not pleasant.  They are not intended to be so.  These are words of direction, purpose, and resolve.  The message begins with “Repent!  The Kingdom of God is at hand.  Prepare the way of the Lord.”  These words disturb, but can provide comfort if our sincere wish is to find our way to Bethlehem.  John points beyond himself to the one who will baptize with water and fire.  The water that John uses will clean away the surface dirt and grim of life.  The Anointed One will go beyond that to fire.

This fire will do three of the things fire does.  First, it will illuminate.  A blazing fireplace sends out light to illumine the darkest corners of a room.  The blazing incandescence of a beacon guides ships and planes to safe harbors and runways.  The light to whom John the Baptist points is the Light of the World.  The fire with which he baptizes will illumine the path to truth and will guide those who choose to follow back to God.

This fire will provide warmth in a cold world.  The most influential people I have met in my life are those who bring warmth to cold rooms.  We all know people like that; those who have radiance about them.  We sometimes look for excuses or reasons to be around them more.  Usually, the warmth comes from reflecting the One who is the Light of the World.  When the Light of the World comes into our hearts, our lives, and becomes the One who lights the way, we find our hearts are kindled with a new love toward God and toward God’s people.  We become positive creatures because we become followers of the One who has overcome the world.  We stop caring only for those like us and look for ways to reach out in love and genuine concern for the least, the last, and the lost.  The Christian faith is always the religion of those with kindled hearts.

This fire also purifies.  The fire to whom John the Baptist points will burn away that which is false and counterfeit and will leave that which is honest and true.  We cannot touch this flame and live our lives on our own terms.  We become God’s people and seek to live life on God’s terms.  Just as fire tempers, strengthens, and purifies precious metal, so this flame makes us ready for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

John the Baptist’s words are disturbing.  The terms are established by God and not by us.  Our excusing and rationalizing, our complaining and postponing, our good intentions and sincerity of purpose, all evaporate into the air and the voice that we hear asks about the fruits of our lives.  John the Baptist points us in the direction of Bethlehem.  There we may remember that we are made in the image of God and are accountable and responsible.  To be in God’s image is to be in a relationship of honor.  To be held responsible means we can respond.  John’s words remind us that we count for something, we’re important to God.  John’s words remind us that what we do does matter.  Instead of abandoning us to our futile ways, God expects us to turn around and bear good fruit.  John’s words are said in the future tense; he is referring to things that will happen.  That means there is hope; there is opportunity for growth and change.  The future is open; we get to decide how we will respond to that opening.

So, maybe the words of John the Baptist are not as disturbing as we first thought.  Turning around might not be so bad after all.  Turning around helps me say not “I’m sorry,” but “I’m wrong,” and that points me in the proper direction again.

John the Baptist reminds us that the purpose of Advent is to help us get to Bethlehem and there be touched by fire.  That fire will illuminate, warm our hearts, and purify our lives.  That journey will help us be faithful to God’s call and will help us prepare the way of the Lord.  Amen.