Creekside Church Sermon of January 10, 1999 "Shining Lamps and the One True Light" John 1:1-18	Rev. David Bibbee
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She approached him in a flirtatious manner, whispered sweet nothings in his ear, held him in a long embrace and enticed him outside on the deck. Just before midnight when everyone was to unmask, she slipped away like Cinderella and returned home. Her husband didn't arrive until 3:00 a.m. "How was the party?" "Dull," he said. "Did you dance much?" "Not a one. To tell the truth, when I got there I saw that Frank, Bill and Fred were by themselves too, so we went into the den and played poker." Her eyes got as big as silver dollars. "You played cards all night?" she shrieked. "Yeah," he said. "I gave my costume to Charlie. He said he had the time of his life."

Appearances can be deceiving. That is why it's wise to be appropriately discerning in whom you draw close to. The one you are with may not be the one you need.

Next to Genesis, probably the most familiar opening verse of all the books of the Bible is the first verse of John's gospel. Both are creation stories. Both start with, "In the beginning..." Genesis reads, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." John reads, "In the beginning was the Word." The Word, is God at work creating, revealing, and redeeming. He employs poetic, mystical language to tell the mystery of Jesus, who was like, and yet totally unlike any person. In this second story of creation, God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. This true light that enlightens everyone is Jesus.

But as I studied this passage I noticed something. John's lofty introduction of Jesus could use a little editing.

It would have flow much better if he hadn't stuck those verses about John the Baptist in the middle of it. Put the Baptist in after verse 18 and it reads much better I think. Then again, maybe John the Baptist is in here for a good reason. The writer was more concerned with making a theological point than producing a literary masterpiece. He wanted no confusion between the Baptist and the Messiah. John was not the light but he pointed to the One who was the light. John knew his role in God's scheme. "Someone greater than me is coming," he said. He knew who he wasn't. The gospel writer wanted his readers to know it too, lest they be drawn to the Baptizer and no further.

There sometimes is a danger of focusing on the messenger and not the message, especially when that messenger has a magnetic, charismatic personality. John was a persuasive and imposing presence, and a gifted preacher. He didn't sugar coat his sermons. He called a spade a spade. When necessary in a "let em' have it with both barrels" style. The religious leaders feared him. King Herod was intimidated by him.

If John were around today he probably could have had his own TV ministry. "The Voice in the Wilderness Hour." He could have used the Christian talk show format... "The Fire and Brimstone Club." He could have cut a book deal with titles like Brood of Vipers or The Wrath to Come. The people flocked in droves to hear John, but he always used a disclaimer... "It is not me you are looking for." Like the priest said in the film "Rudy", "There are two things I know. There is a God, and I'm not Him."

Back in my high school years I worked in an upscale jewelry store. Customers would often drop in with diamonds to be appraised. I would watch some of their faces drop like curtains when the gem which they were certain was so valuable was appraised at a value far below what they had hoped. All that glitters is not gold, or a fine diamond.

This is something which is essential for us to remember. Each December we draw distinctions between Christmas wrappings and the Christmas message, and for good reason. There is so much that comes between us and the birth of Jesus. We get caught up in the tinseled traditions, gifts given and received, snow, candle light and Silent Night, cards and caroling. These things can certainly enhance Christmas, but we can have all these and not be drawn to the object of our adoration. Jesus is wrapped in so many distracting details that we lose sight of him and what he came to accomplish.

Every year there is a Christmas light tour through the Winding Brook subdivision in Mishawaka. Many homes are decorated in more ways than you could imagine. With all the colored lights, you could probably make a single strand stretching from Mishawaka to Minneapolis. But as we drove past all of those homes with decor ranging from gorgeous to gaudy, I thought to myself, "It's possible to look on all of this and not have a clue about the meaning of Christmas." Just then we came upon a home that had it right. A manger was illumined by a bright light, and something between the manger and the light cast a shadow upon the manger. A sign next to it explained. "Born in the shadow of the cross," it said. This is the heart of it. The Word became flesh, his life was light, and took our sin upon himself to save us from ourselves.

In John 5:35 Jesus called John a burning, shining lamp. He said that for a while people rejoiced in his light. "But the testimony I have is greater," he said. Don't confuse the lamp and the light. We are also cautioned against confusing form and faith.

From the time of the prophets to the present, one of the supreme ironies is that things which can lead us "to" God can also keep us "from" God. The prophets cried out that no blood or burnt offerings or pomp and pageantry meant a thing to God without a concurrent commitment to justice and righteousness and honesty in relationship both with God and people. What the leaders called great worship, God called a great stench.

Given a chance we can make idols out of anything. The children of Israel made a golden calf. We have our holy cows. Instead of traditions serving as lamps to light our way to Jesus Christ, they become lamps unto themselves, coated with so many layers they no longer point beyond themselves. For example, when the Communist Revolution was spreading in Russia, the leaders of the Eastern Orthodox Church gathered for a high level conference at which they had intense conversations about liturgical vestments. The nation was about to be taken over while the clergy argued over what to wear for church.

During World War II, two officers found themselves between an order and a religious conviction. An officers' dance was scheduled on a Sunday night, and all the ranking officers were expected to attend. These two captains wrote a letter to their commanding officer asking for an exemption because holding an event on a Sunday and dancing was against their Christian convictions. These men were German SS officers responsible for overseeing the extermination of thousands of Jewish women and children. Their faith wouldn't let them dance, but participating in the holocaust was permissible.

If such things as this can happen, how likely is it that we will put things of secondary importance in primary places? How easy is it for us to latch on to a form of worship or some facet of tradition? Or select a slice of scripture and conclude that we need go no farther? There is nothing wrong with liturgies or preserving traditions. Contemporary worship isn't better than traditional, and being Brethren isn't better than being Baptist, and Methodists do not make better Christians than Mennonites. There is nothing wrong with different forms, as long as they don't become stopping places and instead serve as avenues to the Almighty.

If the goal on Sunday morning is to be grabbed by preaching or carried by concert quality music into the spiritual stratosphere, then you are worshiping a wrapping and not the only One worthy of worship. If the goal of prayer and study is to keep life steady, stable and fixed...if you think being a Christian is knowing facts about Jesus, knowing what he said and what others have said about him, or find yourself in agreement with his teaching, but little more, you are relating to wrappings. You have information "about" him but not a relationship "with" him. If the goal of mission is to bring warm bodies into the church so they can help pay the bills, keep the program running and this building standing, and not pointing to the true Light that illumines lives, then we are not being fishers of people. We are keepers of the aquarium.

The litmus test of all we do is this...does it help or hinder being drawn to the Light who came into the world? John the Baptist was a shining lamp who pointed his followers beyond himself to Jesus. Are we orienting ourselves toward him so we'll not be hung up on wrappings, but the gift, and not put forms, traditions and our little systems ahead of faith in him?

Before we close, I want to mention something that everyone who has ever read Luke's version of Christmas has wondered about. Swaddling cloths. What were swaddling cloths? They were narrow strips of material which were wrapped around a baby to restrict movement. Just think... even as a baby they tried to restrain Jesus...to control him. Herod tried it; he tried to turn off the light before it became bright. Jesus was not only restrained at the beginning of his life, but at the end as well. He was wrapped in swaddling burial cloths and sealed in a tomb. But on Easter, you'll recall, those cloths were neatly folded where his head had lain.

They had all the wrappings, but they didn't have him. Herod didn't stop him. Pilate didn't stop him. Caiaphas didn't stop him. He isn't confined by the wrappings...we are.

He is the Light of the world who beckons us beyond all the lesser lights so he may become the light of our lives. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

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