I am not the Messiah! After nearly a year here, I think that’s been made pretty obvious. And it’s not just because I pick hymns nobody knows, tell terrible jokes, and sometimes oversleep my alarm clock. It’s because… well, it’s because I am NOT the Messiah. I’m just not. Nothing I do will change that. No amount of training, no online certification course, no great acts of charity, even. If somehow everything we wanted out of my call process were to happen overnight, and we’d suddenly have a hundred people in the pews on a regular basis, with more money for mission than we knew what to do with, and new front steps, and an answer to the Heroin problem in New York, and a surefire way to cure alcoholism, and more outreach ministries than Willow Creek or the Crystal Cathedral, if everyone understood tithing as a joyful faith practice and knew all of the Bible backwards and forwards and spoke in tongues of angels… not a one of us here or in that imagined future would be the Messiah.
But it would be nice if we could just fix the world and make it all whole and healthy and safe for everyone in every place on the planet. It would be wonderful if we actually banded together as a common humanity and ended world hunger (because we could, if we all participated). What would be even more amazing would be if we could end the wars and never worry about being afraid of other people just because we don’t know them yet. If we could make a world where there wasn’t any lasting sorrow, where depression and anxiety and schizophrenia and cancer and AIDS just didn’t exist any more. Where we didn’t have to choose when to tell our children about violence and history and strangers and how to show themselves to be non-threatening, or even consider the possibility of bullies of any age.
It would be nice, and we sure have a lot of work to do if we’re going to move in that direction, but it’s not our work that gets us to a place like that. The Messiah is the one who loves us with that perfect love that casts out fear. The Messiah is the one who saves us from ourselves. The Messiah is the one we are waiting for.
And I am NOT the Messiah. And neither are you. And I find tremendous hope in that. A ridiculous amount of relief that, believe it or not, it is not my job to save the world. Or even the church, for that matter. It is not the youth or the historians or the traditions or the innovations that will save us. Not new pastors or ancient practices. Not books or ministries or money or medicine. We put far too much trust, far too much pressure, on this world to heal itself of its own devices and willpower. It’s like telling an addict to quit cold turkey without any support. Or telling a kid to feel better after they’ve been bullied and leaving it at that. It’s relying on a house of cards to think that we or anything we do will save us.
Today’s word from the reading of the Gospel of John is a word of hope for a weary world. We’ve got compassion fatigue from all of the need around and within ourselves. There are so many people to care for, to reach out to, to stand up for. Who’s got the energy for that? Jesus does. Here we are in Advent, waiting for the coming Messiah, and even the best of preachers - John the Baptizer - has to step back and remind the religious leaders that he’s not the one they’re looking for. Like a Jedi doing that mind trick: “These are not the droids you’re looking for. I am not the Messiah you are looking for.”
In fact, the one we are looking for, John says, is already among us, and we don’t recognize him. The Son of God, Eternal Savior, is already here, living and loving among us, walking with us in our everyday ups and downs, carrying us through the exceptional ups and downs, and we’ve gotten so accustomed to the world as it is we’ve missed the world as it was made to be. But every time a kid shares a sandwich with somebody who’s hungry, or a neighbor takes care of another neighbor, or somebody says to the visitor “here’s how we do what we do,” or a police officer dances with people at the local block party, or somebody in the coffee line pays it forward to give the person behind them a drink, it’s still here in our midst. And every time we mess up on those little gifts of grace and need forgiveness, Jesus is in our midst to make us more whole.
Because for everything I am NOT, Jesus says “I AM.” It’s that old Biblical name God told to Moses from the burning bush as God was leading the people out of slavery into freedom. The Gospel of John is full of moments where Jesus tells us who he is. I AM the Bread of Life. I AM the living water. I AM the way, and the truth and the life. I AM the light of the world. And we need that light now in these days as they grow ever darker. We need that light to shine on us and guide our feet into the way of peace. We need that light, and that light which is the life of all people is already among us. We need that bread, and that water, and they are already here, Table and Font. We need a way, a lasting Truth, a life to live fully, and Jesus has walked the way of the cross, forgiven our every sin, and given us his life eternal by the power of the resurrection.
To say that I am not the Messiah is very freeing, indeed, because it is an admission that I am powerless to save myself, let alone anyone else. And in that admission, I am free to rest in the arms of a loving God. The very same God who carries us all, who saves us all, who loves this blessed and weary world into wholeness by walking in it.
No comments:
Post a Comment