It seems extravagant that for the third week in a row the lectionary has given us another glorious passage from Isaiah, with some of its exuberant poetry.
Isaiah 35 is one mighty, magnificent promise, ringing out far above all our bruises, fractures, fears and pessimism.
It declares: “Joy rules the universe!”
 
But when, you say, when will all this joy happen?
Will it be next year - next century - in this millennium?
Will it ever happen here in history, or will it be beyond time - in another dimension of life?
 
As far as the prophet Isaiah could see, it was going to be fulfilled here, on earth, in our time.
 
Note that this chapter of Isaiah would normally be read against the background of the previous one. Chapter 34 is all gloom and destruction - particularly of the hated land of Edom. But Edom was set to become a wilderness. Instead of flowers there would be thistles and thorns; where princes flaunted their wealth and power, hyenas and jackals would make their lairs.
This contrasts with Israel in Chapter 35, where flowers are blooming, even in the deserts, and the jackals are gone.
 
In those days, hundreds of years before the time of Jesus, the Jews had little idea of a positive life beyond death. 
Some believed in a shadowy place, or state, called sheol, where existence was at the lowest possible ebb, without actual extinction.
For most of the Israelites, this life on earth was the only one that mattered.
Therefore, if God made a promise about the happiness of his people, the only way that the promise could be fulfilled was within the context of this time and place. In other words: in human history.
 
Given their limited view of life, if God’s people were to be vindicated, it was going to happen there in the holy land. The consummation would probably be on Mt Zion, in Jerusalem - the holy city.
Isaiah’s outlook, therefore, is very terrestrial. i.e. of this world.
But we’re still left wondering – when’s it going to happen? At what date and time?
 
This brings us to the reading from the gospel of Matthew regarding John the Baptist.
Here we see John waiting in prison. He was expecting the fulfilment to happen through the Messiah – his cousin Jesus - the man whom he had recently baptised in the River Jordan.
 
But the news, brought to John by his disciples, wasn’t all that encouraging.
Jesus hadn’t launched the kingdom in any way that John could recognise.
Jesus hadn’t recruited an army - either of men or of fiery angels. 
Maybe he, John, was mistaken and Jesus wasn’t the Messiah.
He sent the disciples back to Jesus with the plaintive message:
“Are you the Messiah who is to come, or must we look for someone else?”
 
Jesus responded by asking John’s disciples to report what they see and hear:
“The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and the poor have the good news preached to them.”
 
If John’s disciples would only look and listen, they’d be able to see that Isaiah’s prophecy was being fulfilled in front of their very eyes.
It hadn’t come with a display of fearsome power, or with a host of fiery angels; but it had commenced in one humble man, who loved people without reserve.
 
One thing, included in Matthew, that Isaiah did not expect or promise, is: “The dead are raised.”
 
This says that the vindication of God’s children is not confined to the brief passage of our life on earth. 
John himself is soon to be executed, but he’ll still see the fulfilment of Isaiah’s magnificent vision.
What isn’t completed within time will be completed outside of time; what isn’t consummated on earth, will be consummated in heaven.
 
I like to think that the poor, incarcerated, but noble figure – John - got the message loud and clear. 
He certainly deserved it.
 
We’re not tied to that limited view of life which was held by the Jews in the time of Isaiah, or John.
It doesn’t all have to happen here and now, for God has unlimited patience.
With Jesus, we know that we belong to God for both time and eternity and for us, the promises of Isaiah may happen within history, or they may happen beyond history; in time or in eternity; in mortal life or in life beyond death. God’s people will be vindicated, one way or another.
 
That shouldn’t, in the least way, let us minimise the importance of striving - with all our heart, soul and strength - to achieve as much of the promise as we can, right now, here on earth. 
 
Note that we’re not supposed to sit around in pious resignation, waiting for the next life to put everything right.
We’re not to be religious bundles of misery - cynical about all that’s happening in the world around us today.
We ARE, however, to be the body of Christ, continuing his mission in this time and in this place.
We ARE to be co-workers in the era of fulfillment, the age of new hope and great joy!
 
Our place is alongside all of those who are trying to achieve the joyful things Isaiah dreamed and spoke about.
 
Joy to the people who make the cochlear ear, to those who create the new generation of artificial limbs.
Joy to those peacemakers who give their lives in the cause of reconciliation, to those are by their deeds are good news to the poor of the world.
Joy to people who, like the Fred Hollows Foundation, give sight to the blind in many third-world countries, to those who cure lepers, nurse people with COVID, or immunise others against diseases.
Joy to those who dedicate their lives to medical research, to those who toil in the cause of justice and peace.
Joy to those who help increase food production in poorer countries, to those who welcome refugees and give them a new homeland.
Joy to all who bring hope to any sphere of human misery and to those who spread the Gospel – news that the new age has been launched by Jesus.
 
So we see that Isaiah got it right when he said: 
“Strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees.
Say to the faint-hearted: “Be strong, fear not!”
Christ comes to fulfil all things.
And those whom God has redeemed shall return to Zion with singing;
On their heads shall be unending joy, gladness and laughter shall stay with them, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”
 
Let us pray as we consider this message.
 
Loving Lord God, help us to understand your timings and not get caught up in the short-sightedness of our humanness.
You have given us everything we need, so help us to get on with the job of living in your Kingdom and help others to also share and join us in praising you. In the name of Jesus, the Messiah, we pray.      Amen
 
…….Pastor Rick

​Have you noticed how often the writers of the New Testament make reference to the Old Testament scriptures?
It’s not surprising, as they were all good Jews, who would have studied those readings at the synagogue.
Their heritage didn’t disappear just because they had decided to follow Jesus.
Jesus himself quoted the old scriptures, often to show the people that what had been written, was now becoming reality, both in and through his birth, his ministry and later, his death and resurrection.
 
Today, we encounter a strange image for the coming Messiah in our reading from Isaiah 11, where it says that: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.”
I want you to picture what this looks like - and I’m sure you’ve seen it before - a tree gets chopped down to a stump and a short time later, a small shoot starts growing out of it.
Most people view this as an unwanted eyesore.
These little shoots that grow out of stumps, are actually known by the unflattering name of “suckers,” and there are all kinds of remedies for how to seal off a stump and prevent it from giving out new shoots of life.
 
Israel’s enemies had tried every way they knew to seal off the stump of Jesse - the root of the throne of David.
War, slavery, imprisonment, starvation – the ancestors of Jesus suffered all this - and more.
There had not been a viable king on the throne of Israel for generations.
Yet, somehow, there was still life stirring in this burnt-out old stump.
 
Now, in this season of Advent, is when we see the tiny little shoot begin to sprout.
It’s so fragile and one wrong move could see it die – maybe too much, or too little water, the wrong amount of sunlight or wind, even a tiny bug could come along and destroy it - and it’s totally defenceless.
 
When you think about it, it’s an odd image for the writer of Isaiah to use to describe the coming King of Israel - a fragile shoot growing out of an unsightly old stump.
Not a very triumphant or powerful image, but that’s what Advent is all about.
It’s about coming to terms with the profound knowledge that God chose to come to Earth in such a vulnerable state: as a defenceless human baby, called Jesus, son of Joseph and Mary.
 
Neither a baby, nor a tiny branch growing out of stump, is likely to last long against its enemies.
The angel says to the shepherds, “Don’t be afraid” and that’s what lies behind God’s courage to let Jesus be born as a helpless baby, the little shoot out of the stump that could be cut down at any moment.
But that’s also part of how we should reorient our mindset during Advent.
The truth is that we’ve entered into a new era of peace and God’s kingdom has arrived.
 
Isaiah paints a picture of what that kingdom is like: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.”
Peace and wholeness, the Kingdom of God, or the Kingdom of Heaven, as Matthew prefers to call it, have arrived.
We’re in a safe place and it’s ok to be vulnerable, to reach out, to stretch out and grow.
The interesting thing about branches on trees, is that they grow right on the edge.
None of the growth of a tree branch happens internally, down in the trunk.
New cells are produced right at the very edge and build outward – fragile, but brave.
 
What are the parts of your life that you feel are unfinished and vulnerable, stopping you from growing new shoots?
To find out, we must read again the message of the angels of peace, hearing and responding to the command “Don’t be afraid”, in order to let that new growth within ourselves have a fighting chance.
 
The new life and new growth that Jesus brings, don’t always arrive in the obvious places.
We need to look for birth and growth within ourselves and our neighbours in all places, even in the cold, forgotten, frosty and inhospitable places, as well as in the bright, springlike times.
And the storms that we experience are important to our new growth.
 
In America in the 1990s, there was a project called Biodome - an effort to create a totally self-contained biological environment - a mini-Earth - sealed away from the outside world.
Some of it was successful, but one of the most baffling disappointments, was the trees.
They had the sunlight and water and all the nutrients they needed, but as they grew, they couldn’t stand up straight. They flopped over on the ground, weak and limp.
The scientists finally realized that there was one vital ingredient of the outside world they had forgotten - wind.
In nature, the wind blows and causes tiny micro-cracks in the trunk and branches of trees.
Trees rely on this trauma for their growth.
Standing straight to the wind, breaking a little, but rebuilding at the same time, is what helps them grow stronger.
 
Did you ever think that you might actually “need” the storms that are in your life?
That they might be as pivotal to your growth as the good days of sunshine?
 
John the Baptist descends like a furious storm in our gospel today, arriving with locusts and vipers and axes and fire. How does his warlike message of wrath harmonise with the promised peace of the wolf lying down with the lamb?
 
Remember the image of the shoot growing up out of the stump?
Take a step back and consider how that environment was created.
A tree had to be chopped down to a stump in order for the new shoot to grow up out of it.
John the Baptist says, “Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees.”
He is the very personification of that message and he’s arrived to shock us out of our complacency, to call us to chop down and root out all the old habits of greed and shame and selfishness, that have grown up within our souls.
 
Advent is the start of a new church year, and it’s time to begin with a fresh slate.
We’re told by John the Baptist to “bear fruit worthy of repentance”, but what does that mean?
I believe it to mean that all the old condemnations of ourselves and others need to be chopped down and thrown away, making room for the new shoot of Jesus to grow up within us – that’s how we prepare the way of the Lord.
 
John the Baptist isn’t preaching a message of condemnation, but rather one of liberation, of freedom, from the thick, choking overgrowth of sin that’s trapped us in misery and hopelessness.
And for all the ferocious strength of his message, which we must take seriously to heart, what action does he preach?       Repentance.
And from what act does he take his name, John the Baptist?       Baptising people, of course.
Even as he pours down the fire of his words, he also pours out the gentle stream of water on the heads of the repent-ers at the River Jordan, blessing them with the cleansing stream that foretells the Living Water.
He waters the potential of the believers - that a new shoot of life might have the chance to blossom and grow.
 
So, too, is the season of Advent our own opportunity to test the edge of the waters of Jordan, gathering our courage to let the Holy Spirit of baptism – with the fierce fire that burns away the brambles of sin and the gentle water that nurtures the fragile growth of new life – once again cleanse our souls as we prepare for the coming of Christ.
 
In the season of Advent, the season of expectation and possibility, the spirit of the coming Christ is looking for fertile ground in which to grow up, a new shoot out of the old stump.
Isaiah proclaims that “on that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.”
 
You might feel that you’re a bit like that old stump - cut down and useless, but we can make ourselves into that dwelling place, made glorious and new, by Christ’s presence in our life.
 
Let’s dedicate ourselves to hosting the coming Christ within us, and we’ll find ourselves displaying grace in completely new ways that we never expected, newborn shoots of life growing up to bear good fruit.
Let’s be like Jesus, and branch out into the world - preparing for his second coming.
 
May many Advent blessings be upon you……….Pastor Rick

Wake up!       Don’t fall asleep on me.
This phrase, “wake up”, has different moods and meanings when used in different situations and settings.
Let me give you a few examples.
 
It’s November, 1941, in the city of London and there’s a group of men sitting in a darkened room, their eyes glued to their radar scopes and they’re nervous and tense.
Suddenly there appear blips on the radar screens, 200, 300 aeroplanes coming from seemingly every direction.
The men are frightened, and they press the alarm. The air raid alert siren goes off: Whhhha. Whhhha. Whhha.
 
It’s saying, “Wake up. Wake up. Disaster is coming. The planes are coming. The bombs are coming. Get up. Be awake. Be alert.  This is not the time to sleep, but the time to run and find protection in a bomb shelter.
Here, the phrase “wake up”, is about wartime and air raid sirens, warning that an evil force is soon to attack you.
 
Another story. Let’s imagine you’re living in an apartment building and a fire has broken out on the sixth floor.
A person comes running down the hallway, knocking frantically on each door and shouting, “Wake up. Wake up in there. It’s no time to sleep. There’s a fire down the end of the hall. Get up. Get out. You’re about to get burnt.”
This time, the words “wake up” are referring to an incident that requires your attention and imminent action.
 
However, the words “wake up” can have an entirely different - even a positive flavour.
For example, at the imminent birth of a baby, the mother to be calls to her husband “Wake up, the baby is coming.”
Something stirs inside his brain, and he wakes up in a flash, out of bed, puts on his pants and his shirt, ready to go.
If he’s lucky, he’ll remember to take his wife with him in that mad rush to get to the hospital.
In that situation, we have an entirely different mood than the previous stories.
The mood and message are now positive.
 
Last story. The children are waiting for Santa to come with their Christmas presents.
They wait and wait but finally they fall asleep, only to wake in the early morning with presents on their beds.
They rush to their parent’s room, throw open the door and shout “Wake up, Mum. Wake up, Dad. Santa’s been and he’s left us some presents.”
And everybody is excited because the celebrations can begin.
 
We can look at this week’s gospel lesson in two ways: one where we hear the theme, “Don’t fall asleep. Are you still awake? Are you listening? Wake up to the evil that is all around you and in you. Wake up to the evil peril that’s coming towards you and is ready to enter into the door of your life.” 
Or: “Wake up to the good news, to the power and glory of God’s miraculous world that’s all around you, to the grandeur of God’s glorious presence for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear.”
 
The watchman was very common in Old Testament days, when people would build a tall tower called a watchtower, where a watchman would be on duty all night long, watching for thieves who might come in and steal the crop.
What was the greatest sin of a night watchman?     To fall asleep.
 
The second place we find a watchman in the Bible was on top of the city walls, where they would watch for any enemy forces coming to raid the city, or for a friendly king and his armies, so they could be welcomed into the city.
And the greatest sin of the watchman is to fall asleep to the evil lurking in the shadows, or to miss the grand entrance of the king who would march into the city triumphantly.
 
The third place in the Old Testament where we find stories about watchmen are the stories of the prophets.
The Old Testament prophets were also called watchmen, especially in the book of Ezekiel.
They had to be keenly aware of the evil powers around them; but also of the promised Messiah, who was to come.
And the worst sin of the prophet was to lose concentration - becoming lethargic to the surrounding evil or becoming lethargic to the future possibility of the coming Messiah.
 
Then we move to the New Testament, where Jesus is clearly calling out to us “to watch, be alert, don’t fall asleep,” don’t drift into spiritual lethargy about the evil around you”.
The evil peril is around us and in us, but also, we’re not to fall asleep to the grand possibilities of God’s wonderful miracles which will unfold before our eyes.   Stay awake.   Don’t fall asleep.
 
Jesus then tells several stories to illustrate his desire for us to be alert, alert with our eyes, alert with our ears, alert with our minds, alert with our hearts.
He tells us that the end of the world will be like a thief in the night, whose entry into the house will be a total surprise - we don’t know when the break-in is going to occur.
 
Also, the end of the world will be like the master who went on a trip and left his estate to the care of his servants.
They didn’t know when the owner was to come back – maybe at midnight, tomorrow, or next week.
It will be a surprise when the owner comes back – and we understand that to mean “When God calls our name”.
We should always be prepared to meet God face to face, as we never know when this party is going to begin.
There’s always a surprise and, guess what, suddenly the Lord is here.
 
How do we apply all of this at the end of the year 2022?
What does God have to say to us through these words, “Watch. Be alert. Don’t fall sleep on me, you back there in the corner. Be alert. Be a Christian watchman.”
 
Jesus needed to tell us that, because our greatest sin, as current watchmen (Christians), is to fall asleep, become apathetic or become complacent, when there’s so much evil around us.
Like falling asleep at the radar screen when the bombers are coming.
Or, like sleeping through a person knocking loudly at your door and shouting “wake up, the building is on fire.”
To fall asleep in evil times is a deadly thing to do.
 
The evil peril is all around us, and we can become insensitive to the vastness of that evil around us and within us.
Especially during times of affluence and wealth, when we live so much better than the rest of the world.
It’s so easy to become complacent about the tragedy of starvation, hunger and brutality, when our world is relatively wealthy, comfortable and affluent.
We can become apathetic to the elderly, apathetic to the hungry, apathetic towards widows and widowers, to the handicapped, the homeless, those in the bush – living through drought, flood, or bushfire. 
 
The enemy can be easy to identify in war time, or when there’s pornography or domestic violence.
But it’s much harder to identify the enemy around us when the enemy is comfort, materialism, or being selfish.
In Australia, we can say to ourselves “It’s ok, we can relax. There are no big problems around us and the church. There are no thieves out there trying to destroy the lives of our people. We can relax, slump back and fall asleep.”
 
The number one sin of a watchman has always been to fall asleep and not be alert to the enemy around us; that was a problem two thousand years ago and it’s a problem today.
 
There’s a whole other theme in the gospel lesson for today, based on the words, “wake up” and this theme is, “Wake up, the baby is coming. Wake up, the baby is coming tonight.”
Or it is in the story of the children waking their parents on Christmas morning.
Or the watchman, who would get up into the watchtower and shout triumphantly, “The King is coming.”
The early Christians shouted, like watchmen, “Christ is coming. Christ is coming to save!” 
Wake up!  You never know when God will be coming. There’s always that element of surprise.
How many times do we hear of people who are perfectly healthy one minute and gone the next?
 
I implore you to wake up and be alert - don’t fall asleep.
There’s so much evil surrounding us – so many miracles all around us that we’re not seeing.
Wake up your eyes your ears, your minds, your hearts.
Wake up and see the world around you - see the blessings of God surrounding your life.
 
And wake up to see the beauty of the Christmas story.            

​Pastor Rick

This Sunday marks the end of “Liturgical Year C” in the church’s rolling, three-year calendar.
 
Next week we’ll commence “Year A” with the season of Advent, the lead up to our celebration of the birth of Jesus, our Lord, our Saviour and King, at Christmas.
 
On this Sunday we’re invited to look back and remember all that we’ve learned about Jesus, and our faith, over the past year.
We’re invited to come to him in worship and praise - kneeling before his throne.
We’re challenged once again to claim Jesus as our Saviour and our Lord.
 
This Sunday is usually called “The Feast of Christ the King”, but just what does that mean?
 
For instance, what do you think of when you hear the word “King”?
In the British monarchy, the successor to Queen Elizabeth was her eldest son, Charles, who became King Charles III.
Next in line of succession is his eldest son William and then young George, eldest son to William and Kate.
 
And so the list goes on, but I won’t bore you anymore.
There are lots of Kings in waiting in Great Britain.
But in some countries, like America, their experience doesn’t include kings – at least not of the regal sort.
If you talk of “The King” in America, or to someone living in Parkes, NSW and they’ll probably think of Elvis, the King of Rock ’n’ Roll.
Or maybe Michael Jackson, who was crowned the King of Pop.
 
We also have people like Martin Luther King, or, if you’re a petrol-head, Peter Brock, who was known as the King of the Mountain (that’s Mt Panorama at Bathurst, for those who don’t follow motor racing in Australia).
 
So, it seems that “King” is no longer the most effective, most evocative, most exclusive of titles, in fact it is now the 510th most popular baby name in America – more popular even than Jonathan – and its use has risen exponentially in the last 10 years.
 
If we go back to the Old Testament, God, speaking through the prophet Jeremiah, tells his people that he will gather together the remnant (those who have been defeated in battle and scattered in exile) and from these people he will raise up a King from the lineage of the great King David and he will be called “the Lord Our Salvation.”
 
And in the New Testament, the Apostle Luke, throughout his first chapter, tells us more about the birth of this King, this man we now know as Jesus, son of Mary & Joseph, who was himself a descendant of David.
Now Jesus wasn’t born a King, in the sense that the Jewish people would have understood.
Instead, the kingdom which Jesus preached about, was the kingdom of his Father in heaven, a kingdom of grace, servanthood and forgiving love, with no royal trappings at all.
A kingdom which had always been there, but which now (through Jesus) the people of the day were beginning to recognize for the first time.
 
This kingdom that Jesus spoke of, is summarized in the words of the Lord’s Prayer – “forgive us as we forgive others”.
But, you know, it doesn’t seem to matter how many times we say that prayer, the meaning of these words apparently escape us.
Yes, we expect to be forgiven, but we often don’t seem able to forgive others.
 
In God’s kingdom, we need to pull our socks up and perform to a higher standard.
 
In his day, Christ might have been hailed as King by people who thought they understood kingship, but Christ’s kingship over them was not of a militaristic nature, but of one based on love and care for others.
 
When we read the scriptures, especially of the time around Easter, we don’t see an exalted and powerful King, but a Christ who’s been crucified.
Throughout the story there are symbols of royal power, but each of them seems to mock the idea that Jesus has any power at all.
On the cross, above the head of Jesus, Pilate posted a sign, “King of the Jews.”
 
It wasn’t a title, but a reminder of the charge brought against him by the Jewish religious authorities.
Jesus is lifted up, not on a throne, but on a cross - and the crown he wears is made of thorns.
The places on the right and left of Jesus are not occupied by his royal advisors, but by criminals being executed.
The royal court is made up of those who offer vinegar and wine to Jesus, mocking him, gambling for his royal robe.
 
What kind of a King is this?
And maybe more to the point: what are we to do with this crucified King?
One who refused to save himself from the cross and one who doesn’t seem to save us from our own crosses?
 
What kind of King is this, who allows such suffering to exist in our world?
Probably, knowing what we know, we’d probably prefer to be our own rulers, taking charge of our own lives.
It’s easier to read self-help books than to study the Gospels.
But when the self-help books and seminars fall short, and we’re confronted by our need for one who is more powerful than ourselves, we cry out to God:  
“Remember us, remake us, reclaim us, Lord.”
 
At least then we’ll have a little hope that through our own efforts we can come through the pain, knowing the love of God and the strength and comfort it can give during our time of suffering.
Jesus refused to save himself because he came to save us instead.
 
In the moments when we realize we can’t fix, or repair, or help ourselves, when we find ourselves completely unable to do anything more than cry out, we give thanks for a God who does not abandon us or leave us alone.
 “Jesus, remember me,” the criminal at his side begged, “when you come into your kingdom.”
 
The point of the Feast of Christ the King Sunday (to give this Sunday its full title) is to remind us that surprise, surprise, we are not the centre of the universe – Christ the King is.
 
He urges us to gird ourselves for whatever will come.
Over our time in his kingdom, we’ll be challenged by many things, be they droughts and flooding rains in NSW, bushfires last summer, wars in Ukraine, other man-made disasters, mental illnesses, breakdowns of relationships, job losses, etc, etc.
 
But through these trials, we should always stay focussed on the end game and give praise, thanks and glory to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
We can talk a lot about Kings and name many things with this title, but in the end, there is only one King who matters for our life together - in this world and the next: and he is Christ the King.
 
Let us remember this, every day, as we live out our lives in his Kingdom.
 
Pastor Rick
 
Go in the truth that God holds the world in his hand.
Go in the light of God, which illuminates even our bleakest moments.
Go in the faith that we are invited into communion with God and each other.
Go in the knowledge that God is reconciling and recreating the world in every moment.
Go in love, because everything that exists - exists in love.
Go in the name of the triune God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.          Amen.
​

​The bright sun stunned the disciples as they strolled out from the majestic temple onto the bleached limestone terrace. Hand-chiselled, these giant stone blocks measured more than 2 metre on each side.
A grown person could walk two or three paces per stone.
 
They watched hundreds of people milling in these courtyards and patios outside the temple.
Rising far above the streets, these massive boulders were hewn from limestone cliffs.      They were….. BIG.
 
The stones were there to stay, and the delicate, gorgeous temple would have made you gasp.
As this was the holiest place in all Israel, the disciples were surely in a state of awe.
Someone said, “Look, what large stones and what large buildings” and everyone marvelled at the grandeur.
 
Therefore, you can just imagine the disciple’s dismay when Jesus asked, “Do you see these great buildings?
Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
The disciples were probably wondering “Who does he think he is, talking about the temple’s demise when he’s actually at the temple?”
 
We can surely relate to the disciples’ frustration.
Most of us love our possessions, our houses, cars and clothes, wealth, health.
We like the occasional shiny building, the thriving city, a powerful military presence protecting us.
These things make us feel safe and we’d rather not hear that moths destroy and rust consumes, that our possessions are short-lived, temporary like mist, because we don’t want to lose our material status.
This economic system works – for some – and we move mountains to prevent its crumble.
But, deep down, I guess we all know that eventually we’ll die and go back to God - with nothing.
Everything we’ve built on earth will stay here, and we’ll be gone.
 
Mortality is a scary thing and talk of the end makes most people fidget uncomfortably.
In the gospels we read of messianic and apocalyptic Jews, who spent their days actually waiting for the end of time.
 
That’s why our upcoming Advent season bible readings are full of end-times predictions.
Our spiritual ancestors expected the end within months, and they were anxious to know when it would happen.
 
For example, the Essene community, that followed John’s gospel and wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls, moved as far away from civilization as possible.
They were camped in desert caves by the Dead Sea, literally training for a cosmic battle.
And like it or not, these people are part of our spiritual story.
They asked with pained anxiety: How do we live in the present, when we don’t know the future?
 
As Jesus is forecasting the temple’s destruction, the disciples also wonder:
What should we be doing today when we don’t know what tomorrow will bring?
The gospel writers must have agreed on the importance of the temple story, because Luke tells it in today’s gospel, Mark tells a similar tale in Chapter 13 of his gospel, Matthew in Chapter 24, and John alludes to the temple destruction in Chapter 2.
 
Peter, Andrew, James and John ask Jesus, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?”
The response Jesus gives is less than helpful, as he tells them, “When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, don’t be alarmed; this must take place.”
 
Not helpful, Jesus.   They were asking when, but your response is that really bad stuff is going to happen.
How should they live today when they don’t know what tomorrow will bring?
They were probably thinking “Come on, Jesus, we really want to know.    We’ve got plans to make!”
This can be a disturbing reading for some, and perhaps it’s unwise to release the tension.
Easy answers make for good bumper stickers, but real life is a bit more complex.
 
In place of an easy answer, consider what Jesus offers.
Something to all of us: the profound truth that God is still in charge.
God calls us to love with radical abandon.
This is less of a dream, more of a solid movement.
We don’t know what comes tomorrow, but we know that God calls us to love neighbour as ourselves and to work tirelessly toward a just society and a loving community.
 
So how do we live in the present when we don’t know the future?
We should partner with God, giving it all that we have, because God has work for us to do - today!
 
Jesus talked about a revolution in which the last are first, the proud get scattered, the lowly are lifted up.
God fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty.
The sick are healed, the poor are blessed and, in this revolution, we’re all the beloved children of God.
He started the revolution, but it depends, in part, on us to keep it going.
I’m up for it, are you on board?
 
When we read today’s story in the context of Luke’s full gospel, Jesus drops the temple bomb right before setting his face toward Jerusalem. “All will be thrown down,” he says, perhaps referencing his own death.
And history shows that it was so.
The Roman army plundered Jerusalem in the year 70, with soldiers pillaging the temple, murdering people and destroying everything that Israel held dear.
 
Yet death never gets the last word, as Jerusalem rose from the Roman ashes.
Jesus died a brutal death at the hands of the military state, but that’s just Friday’s news.
When Sunday rolled around and took the stone with it and resurrection strolled out of the empty tomb.
God was still in charge.
 
Remember though, that Jesus doesn’t promise easy living.
Jesus doesn’t say that the temple remains, that we avoid death, or that pain goes away.
 
But Jesus does promise that God is with us - even to the end of the age.
God is still in charge and we can trust in God when we can no longer trust anything else.
 
Have you ever prayed in a time of uncertainty, in a time of waiting?
Consider the poetic beauty of today’s reading from Isaiah 65.
To the people who knew exactly what it meant to lose a temple, God said, “See, I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. So be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating.”
 
How do we live today when we don’t know tomorrow?
We draw strength from God, who invites our participation and endures long after the cities and buildings and stones have crumbled.
We adopt an attitude that asks not what God can do for us, but what we can do to bring the Kingdom of God just a bit closer.
We love our neighbours as we love ourselves and we strive for just societies and a stable planet- new heavens and a new earth.
We pray without ceasing, and we trust in a mighty God from whom all blessings flow.
 
This is the revolutionary Gospel - the good news of Jesus Christ.
It’s here for us today, so don’t wait for tomorrow – it may not be what you’re expecting.              
 
Blessings…………..Pastor Rick