Rejoice

Philippians 4:4-9

 

Of all the letters attributed to Paul, Philippians is my favorite.  If you have not read this epistle, I encourage you to pick up your Bible and do so.  Philippians is only four chapters long.  It will take 15 to 30 minutes.  Once read, I promise you will read it over and over and over again.

        As you read Philippians, it will quickly become apparent that Paul dearly loved this church.  Paul knew the congregation intimately and while imprisoned in Rome found time to thank the Philippians for their generosity and faithfulness.  But there was a second reason Paul wrote his beloved friends.  The Apostle had received some discouraging news of discontent among the church membership.  We are never made privy to the source or extent of these problems, but the rift afforded Paul the opportunity to share a side of his faith that we may not always appreciate when reading Romans or Corinthians.  Paul wrote to the folks he loved about the God he loved.  Then Paul revealed things we might take to heart during this Christmas season.

Paul began by exhorting all Christians to rejoice.  Sometimes life in the church becomes so complicated by details, by dotting every “i” and crossing every “t”, by meeting budgets, by doing all the so called necessary “stuff” that we forget that first and foremost the church is called to be in the rejoicing business.  Paul was not suggesting we become a bunch of Polly-Anna’s that have lost touch with reality. Paul understood what it was like to be overwhelmed by the doubts and uncertainties that cloud our hearts.  But Paul never tired of rejoicing over that moment when he first “saw the light”.  He frequently recalled that experience on the Road to Damascus where he encountered God’s revelation in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul believed with all his heart that God’s grace overcomes darkness, God’s grace overcomes confusion, God’s grace overcomes chaos, and God’s grace overcomes the apathy which leads to despair. 

It reminds us of those angels that disrupted the sleep of shepherds the night Jesus was born.  The shepherds lived in a dark world, ruled by fear and trepidation.  Being a shepherd was not an honor.  Children did not dream about watching sheep.  Only those qualified to do nothing else spent their nights tending the flocks.  Yet it was to lowly shepherds that God appeared.  Remember the instructions of the angels?  “Rejoice! Something incredible is happening.  Rejoice! Darkness is turning into light!  Rejoice! God has come among us! 

Then the Angel of the Lord gave the most absurd instructions.  “Go to Bethlehem and see this thing which has come to pass.”  We have heard those words for so many years they slip right past us without a thought.  Let me offer a modern translation.  The Angel of the Lord declared a revolution, a transformation of power, an overthrow of darkness, and then added, “If you want to see it for yourself run down to Stuart’s Draft.  That is where it will all begin.”  Revolutions happened in Jerusalem or Rome, not places like Bethlehem.  Revolutions happened in the palaces of kings, not in the stable of an Inn keeper.  Revolutions began with political intrigue and often ended with death.  The revolution of God began gently, with a birth, in the most unlikely place you might ever imagine.  I love the carol written by Joseph Cook.                 

“Gentle Mary laid her child, lowly in a manger.

There he lay the undefiled, to the world a stranger. Such a babe in such a place, can he be the Savior?

Ask the saved of all the race, who have found his favor.”

 

Doesn’t that sound a lot like what Paul wrote to his troubled friends, “Let your gentleness be known to everyone.  Remember the Lord is near.” 

We don’t live in a gentle world, and neither did Paul.  The Apostle was imprisoned, beaten, rejected, and often ignored.  He started churches only to see them disintegrate in the midst of fiery arguments ranging from disagreements over the sacraments to who was in charge of the kitchen.  Early in Paul’s adventures as a missionary, he would wade into fights with both theological fists blazing.  But as Paul sat in Rome, removed from the fight but not from the faith, be wrote, “Be gentle to one another.” 

One of my favorite Christmas stories is “The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever”.  You might recall The Herdman’s. They  were the worst kids to ever darken the door of any church.  They traumatized everyone they encountered. The boys stole candy from the other kids. The girls terrorized the women of the church by smoking cigars in the bathroom. Gladys portrayed the Angel of the Lord by hollering out, “Shazzaaamm!”  But in the end, Imogene sheds a tear in the bathroom as she removes her earrings and make-up thereby transforming herself into the most improbable Mary.  She embraces the doll, wraps it an old blanket, and mystifies an anxious congregation with her gentleness.

Where do we find that brand of gentleness today?  It seems to be little out of vogue.  What could be gentler than stepping back and allowing the spot light to shine on someone else?  What could be more Christ-like than to gently walk through life creating a path that others might choose to follow?  Gentleness never seems to have an agenda.  Even in this time of greed and vanity, the campfires of gentle people continue to burn bright. 

Paul’s third suggestion is without a doubt the most difficult. He has the audacity to suggest we not worry about tomorrow.    I can rejoice…. for a day.  I can be gentle….. for maybe an hour.  But how do we not worry about tomorrow?  As parents and grandparents we have already sacrificed the New Year’s budget for that smile we receive when gifts are open on Christmas morning. But let’s be honest.  We decorate the tree, share wonderful gifts, and eat a great meal. Then we take the tree down, put the gifts in the back of the closet, and wonder what we have to do to lose the weight we gained. We celebrate the holiday but find ourselves right back where we started, with the same worries, the same uncertainties, the same life. 

Remember those shepherds we left out in the fields.  In all our Christmas plays they enter the stable, and silently kneel before the Christ child.  But in the Gospel of Luke, from the moment the shepherds arrive, there was no shutting them up.  They went on, and on, and on about the Angels and their promise of a universal transformation through this child.  Mary listened.  Mary treasured each word. Mary pondered them in her heart.  For Mary, Christmas was not about the moment. Christmas was about tomorrow.  Mary pondered the words of the angels and discovered the amazing truth of what was to come.

 

 

                Soaring above the cry of the dying,

                Rising above the whimper of the starving,

                Floating above the flying machines of death,

                LISTEN to the long stillness.

                New life is stirring,

                New dreams are on the wing,

                New hopes are being readied.

                Humankind is fashioning a new heart,

                Humankind is forging a new mind.

                Listen! God is at work;

Listen! This is the Season of Promise.*

 

Imagine allowing Christmas to fulfill its actual intention.  Christmas was never an event unto itself.  Christmas was only a beginning, an incarnation to the everlasting promise of God’s grace.  So often celebrating Christmas is like blowing air into a balloon.  As the 25^th gets closer, our anticipation expands to an improbable size.  And then Christmas is over. Sometime before New Year, we let the air out of Christmas and start to plan for the next big event.  I think we blow so much air into our Christmas balloon that we often fail to leave room for God’s Holy expansion.  Imagine coming to the stable with the expectation of discovering more than a child.  Imagine coming to the stable to discover the entire Christ event. Imagine coming to the stable as a beginning rather than an end.

Ann Weems writes, “Christmas is that hope which tenaciously clings to the hearts of the faithful and announces in the face of any Herod the world can produce that with God all things still are possible, that even now unto us a child is born.”

Against that dark night of despair 2,000 years ago, the Angel of the Lord declared, “Glory to God in the highest; Peace to all God’s children.”   Isn’t that what Paul wrote to his friends?  Isn’t that what Paul is still saying to us today. “Rejoice always.  Act gently. Place your worries in God’s hands. Allow the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, to guard your hearts and minds now and forever more.”     Amen.

 

*Howard Thurman