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auto mechanics sometimes get the urge to disassemble engines.
There may be no mechanical need to do it, but the challenge
of putting the engine back together in working order is
alluring. The task is tedious and time consuming, but the
satisfaction of completing it is worth the toil. But the
mood of the moment quickly collapses when the mechanic finds
a part left over. To make matters worse, he doesn't know
what the part is or where it goes.
I feel
the same once Christmas is over. When the worship and special
observances are complete, we're done till next Advent. I
always feel something is left over. There is so much to
be said and sung about God's great love which came down
at Christmas that we forget the wise men and the hymns that
tell their story. They are left overs pushed to the back
of the fridge. We could say it was their own fault. They
didn't come the night Jesus was born. They arrived two years
after his birth. They didn't find Jesus in the manger, but
at home with Mary and Joseph. He was no newborn, he was
now a toddler.
Rather
than cram the wise men into the Christmas story, the early
church gave them a season of their own called, "Epiphany."
The questions of Epiphany are, "Where can we find Jesus?
Where is he who is born king of the Jews? How can we hear
and see him?" By the radiant light of a star, or, if
you are astronomically literate, by the conjunction of Saturn
and Jupiter, the wise men looked for him. They were Persian
astrologers. They were outside God's covenant with Israel.
But these strange visitors were the first to worship Jesus.
The
significance of their visit wasn't confined to that moment.
Matthew says that after they saw Jesus, they left their
gifts and went back home another way. There is a double
meaning here. Going back another way means they took a different
route, doing a bypass around Herod. It also means they went
back changed men. Having seen God make a baby of himself,
their lives would not be the same. They came. They saw.
They returned another way. Jesus came and gave us a good
look at God's love, and we gather each week to worship Him.
But even though we come to look and listen and experience
Him, something else is necessary.
The
Native American Indians had a tradition that was present
long before the arrival of the pilgrims. A sacred peace
pipe was circulated among the tribes. After awhile it would
be given to another tribe which passed it to another. When
the English arrived, they too were asked to share the pipe.
One settler put the peace pipe on the mantle above his fireplace.
It remained on that mantle a long time. One day, members
of the local tribe came to visit the settler who sensed
they wanted something. A translator explained that his guests
wanted to smoke the pipe and give it to another tribe. The
Englishman was offended. He claimed the pipe as his own,
not knowing the Indians had no concept of private property.
According to legend, it was this man who coined the derogatory
term, "Indian-giver."
God's
gift of Jesus is not private property. He didn't come for
our benefit only. The light which God gave us in Jesus Christ
is not ours to sit around like a campfire. It is a light
we carry with us and share with others.
While
in exile, Israel became acquainted with the dark. It was
a struggle to hold fast to the faith. The future was precarious.
But Isaiah prophesied that Israel's languishing was about
to end. A new day was dawning:
Arise,
shine, your light has come; and the glory of the Lord
has risen upon you.
For the darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness
the peoples;
But the Lord will rise upon you: nations shall come to
your light.
Israel
would rediscover the steadfast goodness and love of the
Lord. But Israel wasn't the only recipient. God appointed
them to be a beacon to other nations. The meaning of Christmas
is not that God came to us in the birth of Jesus and stopped
there. The message is that everything has changed since
he has come, and now the church has been chosen to carry
the light so that those who go through life groping in the
darkness will be drawn to Jesus through the likes of you
and me.
The
question I ask myself, and the question I ask you is this:
How are we doing? How much light is radiating from us?
For
nearly ten years now, I have made hundreds of visits at
Elkhart General Hospital. Until two weeks ago I had always
gone as a visitor, not the visited. What a change of perspective.
Every morning at 4:45 a.m. I "felt" the alarm
as a lab vampire drew blood. Every day I was pressed, probed,
and poked. I was told, "Swallow this. Fill that. Give
us a sample of this", and every two hours I was asked
to rate my pain on a continuum between, "I can live
with it," to "please put me out of my misery."
A verse
from Matthew 25 became significant for me during my stay.
"I was sick and you visited me." Though I wasn't
up to seeing visitors, the presence of my wife and children
and the visits of other pastors and the deacons who anointed
me were cherished. And I noticed something. Everyone that
entered my room
they were not themselves. They were
Jesus to me. They all carried the light of Christ. I was
sick and they came to me and cared for me.
I was
struck by something while confined to bed and tethered to
I.V. lines. People will not come to us, our church, or to
Jesus Christ until we go to them. We are fooling ourselves
if we think that putting up a building in a growing area
will grow the church. People will not come to us unless
we go to them. People enveloped by the world's darkness
will not be drawn to Christ unless they see the light of
Christ in us. We may be nice, friendly, hospitable people,
but it is not enough to just be attractive. It takes the
light that drew the wise men to Bethlehem
the light
of the glory of God which they saw in the face of Jesus.
We are not just the recipients of his light, but we radiate
it in tangible, caring, and credible ways if people are
to be drawn to him. The light left over after Christmas
must be incorporated and made visible in our lives.
Not
every article in the Wall Street Journal is about making
money. Earlier this year there was a story about making
a difference. Sandy Koufax, the renowned pitcher for the
Los Angeles Dodgers, was a devout Jew. Thirty years ago
he announced he would not play a child's game on Yom Kippur,
the holiest day of the year. The Dodger's management reminded
him that this child's game was the first game of the 1965
World Series. "Give us just a few of your best pitches,
then stroll over to the synagogue," But his, "No!"
was firm. Don Driesdale pitched the first game
and
the Dodgers lost. A spiritually refreshed Koufax pitched
the second game, and the Dodgers lost. Then he pitched shutouts
in games five and seven and the Dodger's won the series.
Though
of a different faith, Koufax would love Eli Herring, a 6'
7", 340-pound offensive tackle for Brigham Young University.
He carried a 3.5 grade point average and was judged to be
one of the best senior offensive linemen in the draft. Eli,
a devout Mormon, turned down a multi-million dollar contract
with the Oakland Raiders because he would not play on Sunday.
Most national football games are played on Sunday.
Eli
had to choose between signing up, playing on Sunday, having
a Rolls Royce and a suburban Taj Mahal, or he could make
$25,000 a year teaching math, honoring the Sabbath, and
wearing chino pants and Wal-Mart shirts. He announced that
if drafted, he would not serve. The Raiders called, but
Eli said he had decided to teach. He could have used the
NFL as a pulpit to express his faith and values, but he
figured he could have a good enough pulpit teaching math,
coaching high school football, and telling others of the
choice he had made. He said, "A blessing from God is
better than a bulging bank account. Eternity is so long
and life is so short, and you can't be a beacon if you're
light don't shine."
The
reporter concluded the story saying, "Eli Herring is
one of the best offensive tackles in America with a 3.5
GPA, but he doesn't know anything about materialism."
Let's
ask ourselves a question. How are we doing? How much light
is radiating from us? It's easy to take the pipe meant to
be shared and put it on the mantle. But no one lights a
lamp and hides it under a basket. They put it on a stand
where it gives light to everyone in the house.
The
days are numbered for churches which stand on the promises
of God and wait for people to come. We can wait and pray
all we want, but people won't be drawn to the church until
we go to them. They will not give Jesus a second thought
until we give the light of Jesus access to our own hearts,
and then let it shine in others lives. Our ministry over
the next two years will grow from our vision statement.
It begins with rooting ourselves in the reality of God and
growing in the likeness of Jesus, but the vision will only
be complete when we bear fruit, directing the light of the
Lord toward those who do not know him. You can't be a beacon
if your light don't shine.
Now
I want you to meditate upon a story which is a parable of
the assignment given to us. John Westerhoff is a Christian
educator at Duke University. He was called to a western
state to do an assessment of a problem in a school system
and offer recommendations to fix it. The schools had a large
population of Navaho Indian children. When he asked the
teachers how they saw the problem, they said, "The
Navaho's are chronic cheaters. No matter how often we warn
them, they defy us and continue to cheat. How will they
ever learn if they can't solve problems for themselves?"
Westerhoff
then asked the children's perception of the situation. "Your
teachers tell me you cheat on tests." "We do not
cheat. We can't get our teachers to understand." "So
why do you give each other test answers?" They replied,
"We have been taught that it is the responsibility
of those who know, to share with those who don't."
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