Messiah Is Coming to Town

       Zephyr United Methodist Church

Early First United Methodist Church

Rev. Eddie Smart

John 1:6-8, 19-28 (NRSV)

 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. ⁷He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. ⁸He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

¹⁹This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are you?" ²⁰He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, "I am not the Messiah." ²¹And they asked him, "What then? Are you Elijah?" He said, "I am not." "Are you the prophet?" He answered, "No." ²²Then they said to him, "Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?" ²³He said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord,' "  as the prophet Isaiah said.  ²⁴Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. ²⁵They asked him, "Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?" ²⁶John answered them, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, ²⁷the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal." ²⁸This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

The Shoemaker's Dream, Norman Vincent Peale

      One of the most beautiful of all Christmas stories was told by the American poet, Edwin Markham, about a cobbler, a godly man who made shoes in the old days. One night the cobbler dreamed that the next day Jesus was coming to visit him. The dream seemed so real that he got up very early the next morning and hurried to the woods, where he gathered green boughs to decorate his shop for the arrival of so great a Guest.

      He waited all morning, but to his disappointment, his shop remained quiet, except for an old man who limped up to the door asking to come in for a few minutes of warmth. While the man was resting, the cobbler noticed that the old fellow's shoes were worn through. Touched, the cobbler took a new pair from his shelves and saw to it that the stranger was wearing them as he went on his way.

      Throughout the afternoon the cobbler waited, but his only visitor was an elderly woman. He'd seen her struggling under a heavy load of firewood, and he invited her, too, into his shop to rest. When he discovered that for two days she had had nothing to eat, he saw to it that she had a nourishing meal before she went on her way.

      As night began to fall, the cobbler heard a child crying outside his door. The child was lost and afraid. The cobbler went out, soothed the youngster's tears and, with the little hand in his, took the child home.

      When he returned, the cobbler was sad. He was convinced that while he'd been away he had missed the visit of his Lord.

      Now he lived through the moments as he had imagined them; the knock, the latch lifted, the radiant face, the offered cup. He would have kissed the hands where the nails had been, washed the feet where the spikes had entered. Then the Lord would have sat and talked to him. In his anguish, the cobbler cried out, "Why is it, Lord, that Your feet delay? Have you forgotten that this was the day?"

       Then, soft in the silence a voice he heard: "Lift up your heart for I kept my word. Three times I came to your friendly door; Three times My shadow was on your floor. I was the man with the bruised feet; I was the woman you gave to eat; I was the child on the homeless street."

      Who were these who had come to question John? They were priests and Levities from Jerusalem They were sent by the Pharisees To find out who this strange man was Who is this John the Baptist?

      They asked, "Who are you?" This highly educated Biblical scholars asked, "Who are you?"

      John must have known what was on their minds. The first thing he says is: "I am not the Messiah." The evangelist wants us to know John did not DENY IT, HE CONFESSED IT. John was confessing that Messiah would come, But it was not him.

      "What then, are you Elijah?" "I am not!" "Are you a prophet?" "NO." "Who are you?"

      These Levities and priests had no idea who John was or what his purpose was. If they could not make sense out of John's preaching, how would they ever recognize the Messiah? Would Jesus walk right onto this earth and not be known by the Levities, the priests, and the Pharisees?

      A student taking a course in Italian Renaissance Art, said he loved the course, but it made him sad. When asked, why it made him sad, he replied, "You see, I spent nearly a year in Italy with my parents who were in the Air Force while they were stationed there.

      We went to all the great art galleries in Italy, saw all the great paintings. And yet, because I didn't know what to look for, I didn't see a thing."

      The Levities, priests, & Pharisees were expecting the Advent of the Messiah. They were looking for the Messiah to come any day. They knew their Hebrew scripture. Yet they didn't know what to look for.

      "He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light." One of the joys of living in the country is the night sky. On beautiful, clear nights the stars sparkle brightly in the sky. But in the big city, they loose much of their brightness. Some you can’t even see. The bright lights of the city drown out the stars.

      "He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light." Will the light come in a blinding flash like it did for Paul on the road to Damascus? Or will the light come more like those meteors? Will we have to sit quietly & watch closely? Will the light be fragile?

      Maybe the light that comes into our world in Jesus, that light which John says he was sent to testify to, is so fragile that we must get away from the humdrum, daily course of things, sit silently, pray, wait, in order for our eyes to be able to see.

      The Levities and priests thought they understood God and God's ways. If we too think that we know God and God's ways, perhaps that is testimony that we do not understand God.

      Maybe the only way to see the fragile light of Christ dawning among us this Christmas, 1993 years after its first dawn, is to admit that we are so blinded by other lights that we can't see his light.

      Christmas is a time when we understand that God's way is often more like the whisper than the shout. When something very special is to be spoken, it is often said with a whisper.

      Upon receiving a significant gift the receiver whispers, "Thank you." After experiencing a magnificent symphony, the audience will whisper its approval before breaking forth into thundering applause.

      Indeed, the most important moments of life are shared with a hushed tone.

      When a man first tells a woman of his love for her, he does not shout, "I LOVE YOU." Instead he quietly and gently whispers. "I love you." She returns his love not with clapping or yelling but with an almost inaudible whisper.

      In the stories, meanings, and symbols of life, God often whispers to humankind. From the foretellings of the Old Testament until the birth of an innocent, vulnerable baby, God whispered his profound love for people. Christmastide and Epiphany, more than any other time of the year, are seasons of God's whispering love. In the Word made flesh, God does not holler at us. No! In the birth of this babbling child in a Bethlehem manger, God speaks gently, softly, and quietly.

      Our society, unfortunately, wants to shout about Christmastide. Boisterous parties, banging parades, jangling TV commercials, ear-bursting music seem unlike the whisper of God's way.

      One of the reasons that the Christmas carol "Silent Night" is so universal in its popularity is that it almost whispers about the birth. Sing it loudly and its meaning will be violated. The softer it is sung, the closer one comes to the richness and depth of its meaning.

      God has a wonderful way of avoiding redundancy. No snowflake is geometrically the same as any other snowflake; no person's fingerprint matches any other's; no set of genes is assembled in the exact order of any other arrangement of genes. God, likewise, comes in many ways. But no way is more powerful than the whisper of an innocent baby.

      The whisper, not the shout, is God's grammar of love for most of life.

      The advent of God among us in the babe at Bethlehem can be so fragile, so wondrous and delicate, so strange and ordinary, that we might miss it.

      So our Advent prayer is, God, give us eyes to see your light when it dawns among us. Amen.