“They wrapped him in swaddling cloths”

Luke 2:7,12

“They wrapped him in swaddling cloths,” Luke 2:7,12

Pastor Tom Johnson, December 24, 2012

"They wrapped him in bands of cloth—they wrapped him in swaddling clothes."

I’ll never forget Georgia, our pediatric nurse showing us how to swaddle. She demonstrated how to fold a corner down and place the child’s head on triangle, then pull opposite corner up over child, then wrap one remaining corner snug around child, and then without losing that snug embrace, take the last corner, wrap it and tuck it into a pocket. She told us to wrap the baby up good and tight. She explained how important swaddling is. The swaddling blanket is comforting because of it’s squeeze and added warmth. Swaddling simulates the womb. It protects a baby from exposure, sun, wind, and cold. People swaddle all over the world—in hot and cold climates. Swaddling serves as a second skin. Some parents swaddle their newborns around their bodies. Both parent and child are wrapped up together. They are one—bonded to their parent—sharing warmth and the movement of each other’s bodies.

We have heard these words, “they wrapped him in swaddling clothes,” so many times. But why does Luke, the physician by trade, include these details? And why does Mary, Jesus’ mother treasure this memory in her heart? Maybe it is because the swaddling blanket highlights some marvelous truths about the Christ Child:

First, just as Joseph or Mary wrapped this newborn baby in bands of cloth, so God his Father had just wrapped the eternal Son of God in human skin. The one who has no beginning and no end—the Alpha and Omega—is now born a Human Babe in a manger. How wonderful and beautiful this is —that God would gift-wrap the second Person of the Trinity in bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh. Perhaps that is why we have the tradition of wrapping our gifts at Christmas time—adding mystery to our gift-giving—hiding the true identity of the gift. Likewise, the second Person of the Trinity is hidden the life of the newborn Baby in the manger. Some had the eyes and faith to see. Others would not see.

Second, Jesus, born the King of the Jews who is King of kings and Lord of lords took on himself the sin of the world—all the brokenness of this world. All the things that tempt us and threaten us, will tempt and threaten Jesus. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes because, like you and me, he longed for the embrace of his mother, he felt cold, he hungered, he thirsted, he humbled himself, and was wrapped up in all that it means to be a human being—yet without sin.

Third, just as Jesus would be wrapped in swaddling cloth at his birth, so he would be wrapped in a linen shroud at his death (Luke 23:53). Perhaps, Luke includes this detail as a sober reminder that Jesus being wrapped up in our sin and brokenness would ultimately cost him his life. Here in the manger, we have both the Good Shepherd and the sacrificial Lamb of God who will take away the sin of the world.

And fourth, by Jesus being swaddled by the love, warmth, sin, and even death of our human experience—he has swaddled us in his love. That is also part of the mystery of God’s gift to us in the Christ child. That, for us, a Son is given; for us a Child is born. Underneath the bands of cloth, is Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. This newborn Baby is the One who is wrapped in our humanity in order to extend his arms to embrace us with his love.

We are tightly bound to him by faith. We feel the squeeze of his embrace in the assurance of forgiveness that he won for us on the cross. We feel the warmth of his embrace in the promise of resurrection that he won for us through the empty grave. Like the Christ Child who is received as Joseph and Mary’s own and by the Magi and Shepherds as the King of kings; so God receives us as his own royal daughters and sons. In this little, newborn Child, we are swaddled by God.

“Stirring in the Womb” (Luke 1:39-55)

Luke 1:39-55

Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/23/12

Both Mary and Elizabeth are pregnant. In Elizabeth’s womb, she carries John the Baptizer, the greatest born of humanity who comes in the power of the prophet Elijah. In Mary’s womb, she carries the Messiah who is both God and unborn child. This story has challenged people since the very beginning. When Mary became pregnant, her fiancé Joseph was prepared to break things off. The Law of Moses threatened to take her very life. She might very well have gone to Elizabeth’s house as a kind of first century witness protection program.

Today, our challenge may be the sensational story of two unborn children who are already preaching in the womb before they ever stand in a pulpit. Or it may be because we sing this beautiful song of Mary called “The Magnificat;” we are, after all, the Church who is called the Bride of Christ. But together as God’s people—male and female—adult and child—we find our Gospel femininity. Together, we nurture the Christ child and treasure up in our hearts the developing story of our Savior. And together, we trust in the Mighty One who has done great things for us by the strength of his arm.

In the days of Caesar Augustus, Elizabeth and Mary did not text, facebook, email, or tweet one another. Elizabeth had no warning of Mary’s arrival or pregnancy. So, when Mary greets Elizabeth as two expecting women, they do so with loud cries of delight. Mary enters Elizabeth’s house, probably saying the customary greeting, “Shalom…peace, Elizabeth!” And, her voice startles both Elizabeth and her in utero child. And Elizabeth says that John was not merely surprised by the sound that reverberated in John’s amniotic sac. No, John sensed the exhilaration of his mother. Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and the Holy Spirit saturated her unborn son. And like the prophet he was conceived to be, he preached his first sermon without words.

That was something I learned about being a parent. There is a lot of personality developing weeks before children are born. You can sometimes tell if a person is a night owl or an early bird long before they are placed in a crib. One baby already likes to sleep in hours after mom is up and moving around. Another child gets up at the crack of dawn and wakes the mother up. Another child already shows their love for kicks and punches on the uteran wall. Linguists will tell you that children already recognize their native language and the voice of their parents—especially the voice of their mother. Children are born with trusting hearts and immediately look in faith toward their mothers for nurture and milk.

If newborns trust in their earthly parent from the womb, why is it difficult for us to imagine their trusting in their heavenly parent? Rather than underestimate their potential for a relationship with God at such an early age, Jesus says, holding an infant in his arms, “Unless you become as this little child, you will not enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (Luke 18:15-17).

The angel said in the first chapter of Luke that John “will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb.” It is why we believe that infant baptism so epitomizes the Gospel—what better reveals the Good News of Jesus Christ than a baby who is forgiven, adopted, and full of God’s potential and promise. There is a stirring of the womb of Christ’s Church when we witness the new birth of a child of God. There is a stirring of the womb of the Bride of Christ when we have a little taste of the great feast to come at the Lord’s Table. There is a stirring of the womb when we realize that Christ was born two thousand years ago so that he would come into our hearts and be born into our lives today. It’s in our individual lives, and our lives together as the Body of Christ, that he is conceived by the word, water, and Spirit of Holy Baptism. And like Mary who carried her Son and the Eternal Son of the Father, so we too are united with Christ in our life together as Christians. And like the unborn prophet and unborn Messiah who were already impacting the world around them, so Christ in our hearts makes an impact on the world around us.

Christmas is the day after tomorrow for us. For Elizabeth and Mary, it was weeks away. But already, the Christ Child was bringing hope, joy, and light to the people of God. In the Christmas season, we also anticipate the day when Jesus will come back again…not through Mary’s birth canal…but in the clouds. But he is not absent. Christ is with us. He is fully present and growing in the hearts and lives of his people. He is stirring in the womb of the Bride of Christ. And soon he will be born in the clouds to make all things new. And, like John, we leap for joy when we hear the Word. We don’t underestimate what God can do through little people—even the unborn. And we anticipate God doing great things. And so we pray, “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

"Make straight his path"

Luke 3:1-6



Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/9/12

There are five rulers and six regions mentioned in our Gospel reading. Emperor Tiberius who ruled over the Roman Empire, Pontius Pilate who was governor of Judea, Herod who ruled over Galilee, Philip who ruled over Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias who ruled over Abilene. It is interesting that Luke mentions all the regions that bordered the banks of a river—the river Jordan. When John preached, he could always be found near the Jordan River. Our Gospel says he was in “the region around the Jordan.” In other words, John was crossing from earthly kingdom to kingdom—crossing international boundaries—inviting people from every tribe, nation and region to receive forgiveness from God through the water and the Word of Baptism.

John was stirring up trouble. As he stood in the river, he had his right foot in one region and his left foot in another. It was as if to say, “I am no respector of regions and rulers. I am the prophet and preparer of the Messiah.” Just as my feet defy worldly borders, so God’s Kingdom transcends every nation. The river was a natural, international boundry between these earthy rulers. People were coming from all directions down to the river. Every path to every river is a winding one. There are no strait and level paths to rivers. John was making way for the King of kings and Lord of lords—the one whose Kingdom has no borders. John was making way for the King up and down the banks of the river Jordan—a place that had countless ancient paths. Just like near our home, the Des Plaines river has ancient paths first made by deer and other large animals. The Native American peoples followed these trails and even lived near an area I walked by recently.

Ancient trails hug landscapes all over the world—winding through hills, valleys, riverbanks, and shorelines. There is beauty to modern paths like Highway One in California with its twists and turns, ups and downs, and views of crashing waves against the rocks. Even this highway has ancient roots. It was the Romans, however, that didn’t like paths that took indirect routes around mountains in order to ease the journey. They took out a strait edge from one place to another and drew a straight line. I’ve been on one of these rocky roads in Spain, near the border of France in the Pyrenees Mountains. The road goes as straight as an arrow. The incline and decline can sometimes be very dramatic. It didn’t matter; the more direct route always won. It wasn’t until about a two hundred years ago that we started to use dynamite to blow holes through mountains or level them so that trains could find a more efficient way to their destination. Perhaps engineers took their cue from John.

He says “Prepare the way of the Lord! Make his paths straight! Fill in the valleys; make the mountains low so that they are all level! Straighten up the winding paths! Smooth the rough services!”

A few months ago, my family and I were driving down the Expressway. We saw unmarked and marked police cars at each entrance ramp and exit ramp. We saw uniformed and plain clothes officers on top of buildings monitoring the highway. We didn’t know it at the time, but President Obama was expected to land at O’Hare soon and they were preparing the highway for him. They were ensuring that his journey would be safe, unhindered, and as efficient as possible. And that is really the message that John preached to the people at his time. And that is the message of this season of Advent today.

John the Baptist challenged the people of his day—and our day—to make way for the Lord—in our hearts, minds, words, and prayers. God wants us to live out that prayer that Jesus taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come.” John calls us to partner with God in making way for the King to come. I love what Martin Luther says about this. He says, “The kingdom of God certainly comes  without our prayer, but we pray in this petition that it may come to us also.” Just like people during John the Baptist’s day, who came from many different ethnic groups and regions, God calls us to ready ourselves for the Kingdom. Just like those people who took many different, winding, and hilly paths to the river, so our journey to prepare ourselves can have its ups and downs and twists and turns.

But when we come to the river—when we come to the baptismal font—when we come to the water, God washes away all our sins. It is there—in Holy Baptism—that God streamlines his grace. Whether we were baptized yesterday or 92 years ago, God’s Kingdom makes a beeline to us, adopts us, and makes us citizens. The path toward the river of God’s mercy may have crooked, rough, and disorienting. But the path toward the Kingdom—and the Kingdom toward us—is now strait and smooth. Forgiveness and eternal life come now. One day, the King will come in even greater glory. “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

“Stand up and raise your heads”

Luke 21:25-36


  

Pastor Tom Johnson, 12/2/12

Jesus is describing a pretty frightening picture. Perplexing things are happening to the sun, moon, and stars. The nations are in a state of confusion. The ocean waves are threatening those venturing out into the water and those in the coastal areas. Jesus is describing the time leading up to his glorious return—the time he appears in the clouds to usher in a new creation—a time when he will make all things new. That day, Jesus will reveal his full power and authority over heaven and earth. Our Gospel reading from Luke says that people will faint from fear and foreboding at what they see—even before Jesus comes back. That sense of dread and anticipation of harm will be so intense and profound that people will pass out.

This is a very real and legitimate reaction. To go unconscious or in the face of danger is a proven survival technique. The brain stem perceives the threat and then cuts off the flow of information to the rest of the brain. This can be very useful because some predators will only kill and eat live game. Perhaps predators think that the animal they’re pursuing is sick or already decomposing and not a very good meal. Nevertheless, to pass out in the face of danger is to be overcome by fear—the body, mind, and spirit are literally paralyzed and held captive to the imminent threat. Fear is a powerful thing. It can stop you in your tracks. It can keep you from experiencing life to the fullest. It can knock you down. Fear can render you spiritually unconscious—it can leave you as good as dead.

But Jesus is not coming back to threaten us—he is coming to redeem us. “Now when these things begin to take place,” Jesus says, “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

“Stand up and raise your heads.”

I’ll never forget the days and weeks following the tragic and terrifying events on September 11, 2001. The flight I had booked was just a week or so later. There were so few people on the flight that we all sat near each other and just talked—even the flight attendants joined us in a conversation. My family and I had already planned on going back to my hometown for Thanksgiving. My brother-in-law got everyone excellent tickets for a football game at Purdue University. Even though I grew up going to these games, everything seemed different. I felt vulnerable around so many people. To make matters worse, the police were checking bags at the ticket gate—that was also a new experience. There was something very different about singing the national anthem that day, and something different about hearing the patriotic poem that I had heard hundreds of times before. And while I was taking it all in, in the quiet thoughts of my mind, that is when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Two fighter jets appeared out of nowhere—without warning or sound to give you a heads up. And then, as if the jets were pulling a long invisible cord with a payload of thunder, the sound of the roar of jet engines filled the stadium with a deafening noise. It was a rush. And I have to say, it was pretty awesome—and terrifying at the same time. I did not see anyone around me faint our pass out because of the display of power over our heads. We all lifted up our heads—we all stood up even more proudly to be under the protection of such remarkable machines of war. I have to believe that those pilots wanted to lift the spirits of those eyes that were downcast and those bodies that were bent over in a sense of defeat and depression.

And so it is with Jesus when he comes, and the time leading up to his coming. Already, it is pretty frightful what the waves and sea have done to the New York City area with hurricane Sandy. It is scary to read about the surge in violent crimes in the Chicago area. It’s disturbing that more people do not have hope for the future but more of a sense of dread. Jesus does not want us to faint with fear and foreboding. He doesn’t want us to be overcome with sense of dread and danger so intense—so profound that we lose all hope. He wants to free us from the paralysis of fear. He wants to fill us with reassurance that our redemption draws near. He’s not coming to threaten us; he is coming to save us. He’s not coming to harm us; he comes to heal us. Don’t recoil and shrink back in fear.

Stand up and raise your heads on the solid ground and rock of Calvary. He stood up on the cross and raised his head toward heaven and declared, “It is finished!” He overcame sin, evil, and death itself. Stand up and raise your heads in the confidence that because he lives, we will live also. Early on the third day, Jesus stood up and raised his head in triumph over the empty grave. He has given us the victory. So, stand up strait! Lift your heads up! Stand tall! Keep your chins up! You are a royal daughter of the Lord of lords—you are a royal son of the King of kings. He’s coming for you! “Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”