J. Paul Mullen

Scarboro United Church

Calgary AB

Nov. 30, 2008

“Advent Begins in Lament”

    “You have given us sorrow to eat, a large cup of tears to drink. “ (Psalm 80:5 TEV)

    Advent begins in lament.

    Aren’t you tired of it all?

    Aren’t you more than just a little fed up with the direction we are heading in society?

    Isn’t it time to just take a long break, to find a comfy cave and hibernate for five or six months, then emerge to a new day, a new reality?

    Just for a while, God, can we not hear about the collapsing economy, terrorism, American politics, Canadian politics, municipal budgets, global politics, global warming, water issues, air issues, shrinking congregations, aging congregations, mega congregations, not in my back yard, SUV’s, car sales, recreation properties, exotic vacations, cosmetics, deodorants, hair removal, baldness cures, weight loss, toothpaste, movie stars, TV stars, music stars, soap stars, sports stars, financial stars, dancing with the stars, the anguish of celebrity, scandals, CEO bonuses, the price of gas, the price is right, the price of everything and just plain everything.

    There is no hope in anything because all those things are just things.

    “You have given us sorrow to eat, a large cup of tears to drink. “ (Psalm 80:5 TEV)

    Advent begins in lament.

    What does it take to turn lament into hope?

    Last Sunday in Montreal, John Hufnagel knew how to turn lament into hope. Addressing the Stampeders in their locker room minutes before the Grey Cup kickoff he told them, "We're playing on the road . . . we're playing in a dome... we're playing in front of 65,000 fans . . . Men, we've got them right where we want them!

    Don’t think it is just the words that move us from lament to victory. In the recent US election, those same words alone didn’t work for John McCain. “We’ve got them right where we want them.”

Hufnagel had it right. The odds are against us, the situation is desperate, we can’t possibly do all that needs to be done . . . so let’s get on with it. We are the ones we have been waiting for. And not only are we the ones we have been waiting for, we have everything we need.

   

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The Apostle Paul writes, “I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him . . . just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you –  so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift” (1 Cor.:5-7a)

    In another of Paul’s letters he warns us that hope in what you can see is not hope, there is no point in hoping for what you can already see. (Romans 8:24-5) Hope does not come from things we can see, it comes from knowing God’s presence with us. Hope calls us to wait for that presence. Advent calls us to wait for that presence.

    Or does it? When Jesus tells us that our salvation is at hand he does not necessarily mean that time must elapse. We can enter into our salvation, the presence of God, our healing, our hope . . . now! In all the time before Jesus’ birth people were not without hope. Although they longed for a more complete revelation by God, they were not without hope. They knew the source of hope even in the most trying circumstances. They knew where to voice their lament. They knew where it would be heard. They knew the difference between whining to God and voicing their lament.

    Again Psalm 80, “You have fed [your people] with the bread of tears, and given them tears to drink in full measure. You make us the scorn of our neighbours; our enemies laugh among themselves.”

    And then the shift to hope: “Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.” There is no day in which God’s Christ is not born.

    The Psalmist and Paul remind us that God enters into our waiting showing us that we can enter God’s kingdom, God’s presence, God’s hope  -   now.  Entering into hope is not really about waiting, it is about choosing to live in a greater hope, about seeing a greater reality and choosing it now.

    Howard E. Friend Jr., in the Alban Weekly, an electronic newsletter from the Alban Institute, speaks of what hope is not. Hope is not logic. Hope is not a feeling – hopelessness is a feeling. Hope is not a destination, but a vehicle. Hope does not ensure outcomes we can see. Hope does not depend on outcomes at all. Hope is a choice.

    He concludes the article by telling this story:

    Tony Campolo, a well-known author and speaker and a longtime colleague and friend of mine, has spoken thousands of words, but a single sentence, a line from a sermon I’d heard him preach, is etched in my memory: “Frankly, the argument against believing in God or against placing one’s trust in Jesus is every bit as persuasive as the argument for it. So I chose to choose to believe and trust. And that choice has made all the difference.” 

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    “Choosing to choose,” Friend writes, can seem awkward and redundant, but it may be a necessary first step in the search for a genuine hope. This is not splitting hairs or playing word games. Choosing to choose is different from merely choosing. It evokes a sturdy intention, flexes against doubt and resistance, hones resilience, and sends down hearty roots. It has stamina and longevity, poised for a long-distance run. It is resolute and determined. Merely choosing can be unreflective and impulsive, while choosing to choose is reasoned and measured.

    A two-word imperative—“choose life”—concludes Moses’s final speech on the banks of the Jordan (Deut. 30:19). After a long season of divine patience, Elijah announces that a time of choosing is at hand: “How long will you go limping with two different opinions?” Elijah asks. “If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). “You cannot serve God and money,” Jesus proclaims succinctly; a choice must be made. Be hot or cold, but not lukewarm; hear the knock and open the door (Rev. 3:15–16, 20). It is a matter of choice. Choose to choose hope.

    And I would add only that hope comes in choosing hope simply because hopelessness arises in us when we believe we have no choice. Believing we have no choice is simply wrong. We cannot choose the circumstances we find ourselves in, we can choose our attitude and our response. It is essential that we as individuals and as a nation learn to lament overwhelming circumstances instead of crying in our beer. We can choose to lament. We can choose to respond. We can choose to believe that we are lovable children of God and act accordingly. We can choose hope.

    Advent begins with lament. There is no day in which God’s Christ is not born.

    Hope for our congregation is in a vision that sees the church and the world through God’s eyes. A vision that sees we can be a church where the lonely find community, the lost find companions, the broken find healing, the distraught find peace, the poor find relief, the complacent find challenge and the homeless find a home.    You are being called into Advent. You are being called into hope. You are being called to be hope for others. We are the ones we have been waiting for and the coming of Christ, both then and now, the coming we celebrate this and every Christmas is proof of that calling. We are the ones we have been waiting for and we have everything we need. We have our faith and we have each other, broken open, poured out for all.

    Advent begins with lament. Advent ends with the birth of new life.

Amen