The Real You, Really (Matthew 17:1-9)

In C.S. Lewis’ book Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer, the British author and Christian thinker picks up a metaphor about life many readers first encounter in Shakespeare’s Macbeth—the thought that life is a stage on which all our dramas play out.

Shakespeare’s treacherous king sees this comparison as a sign of life’s futility—“a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing”—but Lewis pushes his readers to think about the roles all of us play in life; the ways in which relationships and expectations shape us and our efforts to manage how others perceive us.

In doing so, Lewis beautifully and creatively describes prayer as the gift given to us to elevate our status from poor, strutting, fretting players to complete and fully realized children of God.

It is prayer, Lewis states, that helps us understand who and whose we really are.

He writes,

I cannot, in the flesh, leave the stage, either to go behind the scenes or take my seat in the pit; but I can remember that these regions exist. And I also remember that my apparent self—this clown or hero or super—under his grease-paint is a real self with an off-stage life…[In] prayer this real I struggles to speak, for once, from his real being, and to address, for once, not the other actors, but—what shall I call Him? The Author, for He invented us all? The Producer, for He controls all? Or the Audience, for He watches, and will judge, the performance? (Letter 15)

According to Lewis, prayer is an exercise in finding one’s own voice—finding one’s real voice—through communication with the God revealed in Jesus Christ.

“The prayer preceding all prayers,” Lewis writes, “[the prayer that is the beginning of prayer] is “May it be the real I who speaks. May it be the real Thou that I speak to.”

The story of Jesus’ Transfiguration is about reality, about life as it really is.

Who is Jesus, really, what does it really mean to be his disciple, and what difference does it all really make?

Questions like these filled the air as Jesus and his disciples climbed the mountain on which the story of Transfiguration unfolded.

You see, the early chapters of the Gospels tell us that once Jesus entered the public arena, he quickly developed a reputation as a powerful teacher and healer in his home region of Galilee.

He demonstrated a special concern for his society’s outcasts—the lepers, the sick, and the poor, among others.

He showed a tremendous willingness to challenge traditions and attitudes that separated religious observance from doing good to others.

And Jesus established himself as a rabbi—as a teacher—by calling disciples to follow in his steps and to learn from his wisdom.

The Gospels also tell us how those disciples began to spread their wings by ministering throughout Galilee in Jesus’ name. They developed their own reputations as teachers and healers, took Good News to the poor and outcast, and, along the way, they began to realize that they were following an extraordinary Master.

In fact, immediately before the events recorded in this morning’s Gospel lesson, one of the disciples, Peter, confessed how extraordinary he believed Jesus was.

Matthew describes the scene like this.

Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” And they said, “Some say John the Baptist but others Elijah and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” (Matthew 16:13-16)

Peter’s proclamation that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah of God’s People was a turning point in their ministry.

It closed one chapter and opened another, the horror and beauty of which Peter could not imagine, but a chapter that Jesus immediately began to write.

It was, then, as Peter’s words still echoed in their midst, that Jesus spoke, for the first time, about his own death and resurrection.

And as all that they had heard—the magnitude of Peter’s confession and Jesus’ response—settled over the disciples, Jesus pointed them in a new direction–the Way of the Cross.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? (Matthew 16:24-26)

What happened next was a real cliffhanger.

A week passed about which we know nothing.

None of the Gospels tell us about how the disciples responded to Jesus’ new approach.

Did they go home for a while to think things over—talk things over with their families?

Did they go sailing or fishing to clear their heads?

Did he really say that following him would require them to carry a cross? Really?

Truthfully, we don’t know what happened in the silence of that week.

All we know is that Jesus’ ministry was at a crossroads as his followers came to terms with the reality of discipleship’s cost.

That’s how the Gospels set the stage for the verses that are before us today.

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. (Matthew 17:1-2)

On that mountain, Jesus shined like the sun, Elijah and Moses appeared at his side, and the disciples were dumbfounded.

Like them, the Transfiguration catches the eye of even the most casual observer because of its special effects—Jesus’ face became radiant, his clothes flashed like lightning, and God’s voice thundered from on high.

This is obviously a story about something very special happening to Jesus.

But the Transfiguration also captures the imagination of more serious disciples not simply because of the accompanying light show, but because it’s such a crucial moment in Jesus’ life story.

This is the bridge from Jesus’ early ministry to his final ascent in Jerusalem—his crucifixion and resurrection.

Because of its wide appeal, it’s not surprising that people of faith through the generations have had a lot to say about the Transfiguration.

It’s a manifestation of Jesus’ divinity—like his baptism, and something that the disciples remembered for the rest of their lives—like the Sermon on the Mount or turning water into wine.

It’s a moment in Jesus’ life that teaches us something about God’s glory.

It says something about holiness and beauty.

It tells us about God’s power, Christ’s mission, and his unique role in the story of salvation.

The Transfiguration was a defining moment in Jesus’ life. That’s why we celebrate it every year on this last Sunday before Ash Wednesday.

But for all the things that it teaches us about heady spiritual matters, I believe there’s a very practical lesson to be learned today from the Transfiguration as well.

It remains true that time spent with Jesus sets the stage for revelation and transformation.

With everything else that happened that day on the mountain top, with all the questions about crosses and whatever was going to happen next still hanging in the air, it’s so easy to forget that this is really a story about what happened one day when the disciples went away with Jesus–to be with him, to pray, to, in the words of the the old hymn, “walk with him and talk with him.”

And because he still comes to us, and walks with us, because Jesus “is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you,” because we still pray, we can lift up the Transfiguration as a story about reality—the reality of a loving God who takes us to mountain tops and walks with us through life’s valley.

“[The invitation to walk with Jesus and to be a people of prayer,]” concludes Lewis, “is, at every moment, a possible theophany [--a visible manifestation of God]. Here is the holy ground: the Bush is burning now.”

We can also say that Jesus shines with heaven’s light right now.

He meets our questions and doubts with grace right now.

He desires communion with you and me, he offers healing and compassion, he empowers us to be our real and true selves right now.

Friends, the Gospel invites us to be real so that our eyes may be opened and God’s own self revealed in our midst.

According to C. S. Lewis, prayer is an exercise in finding one’s own voice—finding one’s real voice—through communication with the God revealed in Jesus Christ.

“The prayer preceding all prayers,” Lewis writes, “[the prayer that is the beginning of prayer] is “May it be the real I who speaks. May it be the real Thou that I speak to.”

May the time we spend with Jesus on this Transfiguration Sunday spark just such a new beginning for every one of us and for his Church.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

Image: Walsh, George. Kingdom of God, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.

The Strength of Fools (1st Corinthians 1:1--2:16)

At the conclusion of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said,

“Everyone, then, who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall because it had been founded on rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell—and great was its fall!” (Matthew 7:24-27)

There’s a promise that’s implicit in this teaching. It’s the promise that Jesus offers to his listeners a foundation on which to build their lives that is strong, durable, and able to withstand the proverbial storms of life.

Although their fears and old habits made it difficult for Jesus’ first disciples to truly live by this promise–(even their best efforts to do so, like our own, often failed)--the words that Jesus said, the things that Jesus did, and what these things revealed about who Jesus was, did, in fact, become the Church’s example, guide, and cornerstone.

As an old hymn reminds us, “The Church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ, her Lord.”

This focus on Jesus’ life, ministry, and how he still changes people’s lives ultimately helped believers discern a model for Christian discipleship and the message Christians seek to share.

Think of this discernment process as both learning how to take Jesus’ promise to heart in one’s own life and learning how to share that promise with others in a way that is genuine and authentic.

Scholars of the New Testament have given a name to this distillation of ideals, intentions, and messaging. They call it the kerygma, a Greek word that means “proclamation” and it describes the essential, fundamental ideas of the Gospel.

The Church has spent almost two thousand years being tempted to add more to that basic message–saying “Yeah that stuff is really important, but so is this and that” and a lot of those efforts, while well intentioned, only made things more complicated.

Church history is full of people who thought they were sharing an essential Christian message, when, in truth, they were really sharing the ideals and values of their culture, race, nation, or party.

One way to think of kerygma, then, is as a teaching device intended to remind Christians of every age that their mission, to borrow a phrase, is keeping the main thing, the main thing–and the main thing for Christians is making disciples of Jesus Christ, not copies of themselves.

Talking about the kerygma, therefore, takes us back to the very beginnings of our Faith–to a time before denominations, tall steeples, stained glass windows, and potluck suppers.

Actually, that’s wrong. Even in the beginning, there were potlucks.

Regardless, we should understand that this is real “back to the basics” stuff.

The New Testament authors tell us that the kerygma is about Jesus’ resurrection and the new life and renewal of Creation he makes possible.

It is about grace, forgiveness, and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

It’s good news that’s meant to lift people up, not hold them down.

Unlike the creeds that it inspired, however, the kerygma of the early Church was never worked over, edited, and codified into precise language.

That being said, a few years ago, Pope Francis gave all Christians a beautiful and useful definition to consider.

Writing in “Joy of the Gospel,” Francis wrote, “(Our kerygma or essential proclamation is this:) Jesus Christ loves you; he gave his life to save you; and now he is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.”

I think this quote from Francis is wonderful and I want to use it as our starting point as we unpack what Saint Paul is saying in chapters one and two of 1st Corinthians.

“Jesus Christ loves you; he gave his life to save you; and now he is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.”

It’s fair to say that this gets to the heart of the message Paul shared with the people of Corinth during his ministry there–a ministry, the scripture tells us, that kept Paul in town for 18 months.

Given his investment of time and energy in that place, Corinth was something like a proving ground for Paul. He saw successes there and failures, too. He knew the people–their strengths and weaknesses, what they had been through, what old habits still constrained them, and the potential they still possessed.

Accordingingly, his letters to Corinth make up a significant portion of Paul’s theological and literary legacy, including the revelation in book one chapter one that he understood how foolish his message truly was.

It’s there that he wrote,

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God….For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. (1 Cor. 1:18-25)

This talk about foolishness is more than a nice turn of phrase to Paul. It’s actually a profound statement about some of his deepest convictions.

Afterall, he was writing at a time and a place where anyone with half a clue knew exactly who had all the power—and it wasn’t a crucified Jewish rabbi.

It was Rome. Rome had the money. Rome had the influence. Rome was willing to destroy you and everything you cared about if you got on its wrong side.

That’s what strength looks like!

But that’s not what Paul called strength.

As goofy as it sounded and as foolish as it was, he kept pointing believers back to Jesus as the source and example of real strength, power, and value.

For Paul, the cross was history’s hinge point and the way in which the barriers that divide people were tumbling down in Jesus’ name was evidence of a force against which no man-made wall could stand.

[For] God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to abolish things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. (1 Cor. 1:27-29)

Friends, I think Paul’s insights into foolishness are as timely today as ever, because everyday we are bombarded with grandiose displays of what we’ve been told strength looks like.

We’re seeing vice celebrated as virtue by people who think that cruelty and arrogance makes them look tough, like real men.

We’re seeing communities turned upside down, lives ruined, and people killed because our shared humanity has been trumped by zombie nationalism and blatant racism.

We’re seeing–even in redacted emails–how some of the world’s richest and most famous men have degraded women and children in the most grotesque ways imaginable.

And we’re told the people who do such things are the powerful ones because they decide who lives and dies. They can satisfy all of their selfish cravings. They make more money in a day than our families will make in ten generations.

That’s what strength looks like–or so they would have us believe.

Oh, may we never be so foolish as to fall for such nonsense.

Because remember, “Jesus Christ loves you; he gave his life to save you; and now he is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.”

And if that’s true, if our proclamation is from God, then there’s a power at work that those who’ve given themselves over to violence, greed, and depravity can never possess.

If the real power is in Jesus and his love, then all these arrogant displays that surround us are but signs of fragile egos and the manifestation of sin’s weakness—“for the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

Jesus said, “Everyone, then, who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock.”

For that reason, I don’t think it’s ever a bad idea for Christians to give some thought and prayer to maintaining and upholding the basic essentials and foundations of our Faith.

Such efforts have been at the root of every genuine revival and godly reform history has even known.

Even so, I don’t find it particularly useful to compare our present situation to those faced by Christians in the past—as if it somehow matters that another generation faced so many more challenges than ours, or seemingly had it so much easier.

What does matter, however, is the quality of the foundation on which we’re building our lives and the witness that we bring to this moment–to our moment.

God’s foolishness is timeless like that.

“[For] God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

There’s a promise that’s implicit in Jesus’ teaching. It’s the promise that he offers to his listeners a foundation on which to build their lives that is strong, durable, and able to withstand the proverbial storms of life.

You see, “Jesus Christ loves you; he gave his life to save you; and now he is living at your side every day to enlighten, strengthen and free you.”

There are people just beyond the doors of this church–maybe even on this side of the doors, too–who need to hear this message because they’re being crushed by this world and its nonsense.

Will we be foolish enough to tell them that Jesus loves them, too?

Will we know the power of the cross, find strength in love, and experience grace in the hope that overcomes our imperfections and weakness?

Will we build our lives on this sure foundation?

I pray that we will–that we will know Jesus, share Jesus, and love like Jesus today and forever.

Image: Holzmeister, Clemens, 1886-1983. Crucifixion, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.

Courtroom Cacophony (Micah 6)

To Kill a Mockingbird, Law & Order, The Crucible, Judy Judy, Legally Blonde, the Seinfeld finale–it may come as a surprise, but the popularity of these movies and television shows can actually help us unpack a sermon preached by the ancient biblical prophet named Micah more than seven hundred years before the birth of Jesus.

But first, did you notice what those movies and shows have in common?

All of them are either set in or see their climatic scene take place in a courtroom.

And that’s where our approach to the scripture begins this morning.

You see–authors, playwrights, screenwriters have been mining the conventions and rituals of courtrooms for material for centuries.

The Greek author Aeschylus wrote history’s first courtroom drama, or at least the oldest surviving example, in the four hundreds B.C.

Shakespeare explored the dramatic potential of courtrooms. So did Charles Dickens, Verdi, Dostoevsky, and Andy Griffith, to name a few.

Basically, storytellers working in every form and genre of storytelling have found court proceedings to be a useful tool for making their point or entertaining their audience.

And when we give it a little thought, it’s easy to understand why.

Courtrooms create endless opportunities for drama and keep open the possibility that the good, the bad, or the ugly among us might enter the stage at any moment.

Courtrooms are inherently places of conflict. Why else would a story end up there?

Judges and juries aren’t necessary when everyone agrees that a handshake or a “My bad. Sorry about that” are sufficient forms of restitution.

No, courtrooms are places of division and disagreement where accusations are made, defenses are presented, and someone–a judge or maybe someone just like you–has to decide what really happened and if someone is lying, misremembering, guilty, innocent, or just really unlucky.

Courtrooms bring to mind some of our highest ideals–things like truth and justice–but they’re also places where some of our worst characteristics and behaviors are recounted and put on display.

Courtrooms allow equal access to the salacious and the virtuous, they invite unexpected twists, turns, and revelations, and, more often than not, they allow their stories to end with a verdict or a resolution.

What more could a storyteller want?

There’s no question that countless generations have understood and experienced the same pulse racing energy we feel when we’re watching the cross examination of a star witness or listening to a powerfully delivered closing argument.

This brings us back to Micah.

Micah, like his prophetic peers, saw a direct connection between the unjust and immoral behaviors of God’s people in ancient Israel and Judah and the national calamities and crises they were facing.

Specifically, the problem in Micah’s day was a war with Assyria that the people were sure to lose.

The gist of his preaching, therefore, was that since the people had allowed their hearts, minds, and institutions to become rotten and no good, they were going to go through some things, but that repentance, changing their ways, and returning to lives of integrity–even as they experienced the consequences of their actions–was their best and most faithful hope.

This is the background for chapter 6, in which Micah imagines or envisions a courtroom drama to deliver this message.

We only read a few verses of the scene this morning, so we need to pull back a bit to appreciate what’s happening here.

In verse 1, for example, God brings the charges.

Hear what the Lord says: Rise, plead your case before the mountains, and let the hills hear your voice.

Hear, you mountains, the case of the Lord, and you enduring foundations of the earth, for the Lord has a case against his people, and he will contend with Israel. (Micah 6:1-2)

So Micah casts God as something like a prosecutor, the people as the defendant, and the mountains and Creation itself as the jury.

As the passage unfolds, the charges reveal a people who have forgotten what God has done for them. They’ve lost all affection. They’ve given up on the relationship.

And when they finally have a chance to defend themselves–they only prove how dire the situation has become.

The scene looks something like a neglected spouse pleading for attention, pleading for their partner to become a part of the family, to take an interest in what’s happening in their lives only to have the other say, “What do you want? Some flowers? A nice piece of jewelry? A vacation?”

"With what shall I come before the LORD and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?"(Micah 6:6-7)

What comes next is the most famous line Micah ever wrote.

The speaker is a bit ambiguous. Is it the jury or the prophet himself? Maybe it’s meant to be anyone in the room who’s paying attention.

It could even be a shout ringing through the courtroom as the judge bangs the gavel and calls for order.

Regardless, the words are iconic.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?( Micah 6:8)

How could the people be so thick-headed? How could they be so clueless? How could they think that over-the-top, osentatious displays could fill a yearing for genuine connection and realtionship?

Case closed. The people were guilty.

The rest of the chapter is the verdict and the sentence, and it’s not a pretty sight.

Thus says the Lord,

Can I forget the treasures of wickedness in the house of the wicked and the despicable false measure?

Can I tolerate wicked scales and a bag of dishonest weights?

Your wealthy are full of violence; your inhabitants speak lies with tongues of deceit in their mouths.

Therefore I have begun to strike you down, making you desolate because of your sins. (Micah 6:10-13)

It’s a stinging rebuke, the kind of which we find throughout the prophets, but it’s the rhetorical question at the center of it all, the courtroom cacophony, that endures.

O mortal, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

The intervening centuries have done little to dislodge these words from the core of our faith and practice. Far from it, in fact, as Jesus’ ministry–from the Beatitudes to the Cross–only underscores their importance, reminding us that while the grace of God’s mercy and forgiveness are always offered to us, we’re called to live like grace matters—like this relationship with God matters—and that what God delivers is better than all the treasures promised by greed, violence, arrogance, and deceit.

For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength. (1 Cor. 1:25)

Asbury Church, what is good, and what does the LORD require of you–even as your heart breaks when the powerful trample on the weak, when the rich buy and sell the poor, when the promises of this nation that you thought would elevate all of us are being used as a cudgel to degrade, diminish, and even destroy life itself.

Do justice and love kindness and walk humbly with your God.

As we seek a deeper understanding of the prophet’s words for our lives and for our times, may our hearts be renewed, may our neighbors be blessed, and may we rediscover the power of the Good News that truly sets people and nations free.

Thanks be to God for this Good News. Amen.

Image: Chris Potter, CC BY 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

Folktales and Christmas Classics (For Christmas 2025)

Is there a movie, song, or holiday special that you just have to see or hear in order to get in the mood to celebrate Christmas?

Is it one of the classics–Handel’s “Messiah”; George Bailey’s epiphany in “It’s a Wonderful Life?”; Scrooge’s change of heart in “A Christmas Carol"? Maybe it’s going to see the Rockettes at Radio City, or the look on Ralphie’s face when he almost shoots his eye out in “A Christmas Story.”

There’s Charlie Brown’s pitiful tree, Clark Griswold’s luminous house, Seinfeld’s “Festivus for the Rest of Us” episode, and Will Ferrell’s Buddy the Elf.

Perhaps you’ve been binging on Hallmark Channel Christmas movies since Halloween.

Whatever tops your list, I applaud it, and I think that it’s fair to say that these sights and sounds rightfully have a special place in our hearts at this time of year.

Far from detracting from the season, in my opinion, they add to it and remind us of the humorous, poignant, often beautiful magic of these Holy Days.

Addison Del Mastro comes to a similar conclusion in a piece he wrote for The Bulwark this week entitled “America’s Two Christmases—and Why They’re Both Pretty Great.”

Holding in tension Christmas’ religious significance and the cultural excesses associated with it, Del Mastro notes,

I observe Advent. I try to remember that quiet, expectant…thought that God walked on this earth.

But also, I must confess, I love the American secular Christmas. I love the Christmas songs on the radio for a month or more, the giant, tacky displays of artificial trees in every height and color in the stores, the inflatables ranging from Snoopy to Star Wars contraptions in the front yards, the dorky commercials rewriting carols and seasonal tunes with lyrics about going crazy while shopping. I love Frosty and Rudolph, the observation that “it’s a marshmallow world” when it snows, the general brightening up and enlivening of the winter….

He concludes,

None of this takes away from the “reason for the season.” Why should it? Why can a human heart, and our nation, not be big enough for all of it?

Since bad news and heartbreaks don’t ask our permission before bursting into our lives throughout the year, why shouldn’t we open ourselves to stories full of hope and love, dancing sugarplums, marching toy soldiers, and other assorted Christmas miracles as the year comes to an end?

The truth is that such stories have been a part of Christmas for ages.

There’s an old French Christmas carol and folktale called the “Friendly Beasts,” for example, that says that on the night that Jesus was born God blessed the animals in the manger with the ability to speak in gratitude for the hospitality that they showed the Christ Child and the Holy Family.

The legend recounts how the animals used their gift to praise God and to bear witness to the part they played in Jesus’ story.

“I,” said the donkey shaggy and brown, “I carried his mother uphill and down, I carried his mother to Bethlehem town; I,” said the donkey shaggy and brown.

The cow sang out, too, as did the sheep and dove. All of the animals sang in a glorious chorus of praise.

I absolutely love this carol.

I love it, in part, because like every other person who’s ever lived with a beloved pet, I’m convinced that there were moments when actual words were on the tip of my dog’s wagging tongue.

But its appeal goes much deeper.

I love the simple message of “The Friendly Beasts”--that everyone has a part to play in Creation’s redemption story.

Everyone of us has something worthwhile to contribute.

Everyone of us has a song a sing, and, like the manger animals, we’re invited to make it a chorus of praise.

What a beautiful thought!

If the animals could talk they would tell of the ways in which they graciously received the Christ child and worked to welcome him into the world.

If their barks, neighs, coos, and calls became clear, theirs would be a witness to the joy that one experiences when they find themselves in the right place and doing the right work that they recognize as holy and a gift from God.

Jesus our brother, strong and good, was humbly born in a stable rude, and the friendly beasts around Him stood, Jesus our brother, strong and good.

“The Friendly Beasts” invites us to consider how we will employ our gifts and talents—all that they have and all that they are—in welcoming Christ into our lives, into our time, into this world, just as the manger’s animals did so long ago.

And so it is that old French folktakes, like our favorite holiday movies and traditions, can bring a little magic into our lives tonight.

Such special moments and remembrances have a way of reminding us and empowering us to be present with grateful and open hearts at Christmas and to experience in greater measure the hope, light, joy, and peace Christ shares with the world.

So come, let us sing our songs of praise and adoration.

Let’s worship this barrier breaking Christ, who empowers us to love boldly, to live by the truth, and to forgive as we are forgiven.

Let’s lift our hearts and bow our egos as we live generously and humbly and as we renew our commitment to mend what’s been broken, to lift up the lowly, and to remember the poor.

Let’s treasure the magic of a night when animals talked and God became one of us.

Thus all the beasts, by some good spell, in the stable dark were glad to tell of the gifts they gave Emmanuel, the gifts they gave Emmanuel.

Thanks be to God and Merry Christmas! Amen.

Report of the Pastor to the 2025 Church Conference

“Asbury Church needs you more than your money.” I included this statement in a letter to the congregation this Fall and believe it remains a useful assessment of the state of the congregation at the end of 2025. While financial stewardship remains an area of focus, Asbury’s biggest challenge isn’t financial in nature. Rather, our biggest challenge is aligning the use of our financial, spiritual, and personal resources with a vision for the church’s mission and ministry that motivates and empowers people to participate in ways that are meaningful to them and impactful on our community. The purpose of this report is to review where we are progressing toward meeting this challenge and areas of our life together in which we need to invest greater attention, creativity, and support.

Creating opportunities for people to connect and build relationships with one another is an area in which we are making solid progress. Our Fellowship Committee is active and expanding the number of events they sponsor. In addition to Sunday Potlucks, Fat Tuesday Pancakes, and Fall Kickoff S’mores, in 2025, the group also planned our first off-site retreat since the pandemic at Blue Mountain Trail Lodge in Cordlandt Manor, NY. These events are well attended and create a low stress, welcoming atmosphere where connections can blossom. Sunday Coffee Hour creates similar vibes. The majority of people who attend worship stay for Coffee Hour, a sign that people at Asbury want to know one another. In order to enhance this ministry, this year we invested in a ping pong table and monthly birthday celebrations. We also purchased a new dishwasher which has allowed us to live out our values and to dramatically reduce our use of plastic and disposable items.

Making it possible for the people of Asbury to get to know one another is one of our growing strengths. Inviting people into life at Asbury is an area that needs greater focus.

We’re excited when visitors attend an event at Asbury, but we don’t have a clear plan for inviting them into a closer relationship with God or to further develop the ways in which they participate in Asbury’s ministry. I raised this issue with the Committee on Nominations this year and it was the subject of a good conversation at our annual church meeting in November. At that time, I introduced the congregation to See All the People resources published by UM Discipleship. Since then, I’ve announced that we’ll begin a new study series in January 2026 called “Get Their Name.” Based on a book by the same name, the series guides congregations that want to “create an outwardly focused environment where hospitality and invitation happen Sunday and every day of the week.” Growth in this area and in classic Christian concerns like evangelism and spiritual formation is essential for Asbury’s future vitality.

The People of Asbury also need to carefully assess how we deploy our time and energy. I’m sensitive to the fact that the members who lead and actively participate in most events at Asbury have been doing so for many years, especially since the pandemic, and I am concerned about weariness and burnout. Connecting our activities with our mission–the “what we do” with “why we do it”--is an important part of keeping spirits fresh and ministries vital. Wearing ourselves out by doing what we’ve always done while hoping for different results isn’t an enticing thought.

As a small membership congregation, we also need to be honest about the volume of ministries that we can adequately sustain at this moment. For example, is it realistic for us to plan a mission project or spiritual development event two weekends a month? Once a month? A few times a year? The correct answer is it’s realistic for us to plan whatever we can energetically and eagerly support.

I believe that when our ministry is in alignment with God’s vision we will find that we have exactly what we need to help that ministry flourish. However, I also believe that worn out leaders and volunteers are a sign that such alignment is lacking. Prayerful discernment around these issues is another essential endeavor regarding Asbury’s future vitality.

In one of the primary texts of the See All the People campaign, Junius B. Dotson writes,

For too long, The United Methodist Church has looked for a quick fix to help guide our discipleship efforts, and it is not working. We have lost our focus on intentional discipleship, we have forgotten the reasons why we said “yes” to Jesus, and we ourselves have stopped growing as disciples. We have forgotten that being on a path of discipleship is a life-long journey of growth and maturing.

I feel convicted by these words and believe many of you would admit that Dotson is right, too.

God isn’t calling Asbury Church to chase after fads and quick fixes. God desires and makes possible authentic, sustainable, impactful growth–within our hearts, among our relationships with one another, and in a ministry through which people experience God’s love in profound ways. This is the kind of growth that we must pursue, and in order to do that, “Asbury Church needs you more than your money.”

In the Meantime (James 5:7-10)

In 1965, an American folk rock band called “The Byrds” had a number one hit song with “Turn, Turn, Turn” thus making a passage from one of the Bible’s most unusual books one of the most unlikely additions to the pop culture soundtrack of the 1960’s.

Legendary folk singer Pete Seeger wrote “Turn, Turn, Turn,” but in reality, the lyrics are almost a verbatim transcription of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8.

Here’s what that scripture says,

For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill and a time to heal;

a time to break down and a time to build up;

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn and a time to dance;

a time to throw away stones and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek and a time to lose;

a time to keep and a time to throw away;

a time to tear and a time to sew;

a time to keep silent and a time to speak;

a time to love and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace.

The passage’s content, along with its rhythm and cadence, creates the impression of a world set on repeat–of predictable cycles and routines.

Feast and famine, war and peace, love and hate–round and round go the seasons of life.

But predictably can be a double-edged sword, at times offering comfort and dependability in life’s steadfast relationships and blessings, at others, creating dread and anxiety as we face challenges and pressures that just won’t let up.

The predictable world of Ecclesiastes falls into this latter camp. In fact, I’d go so far as to say the passage from Ecclesiastes is disorienting because it lacks a clear prescription for how to heal what is broken within life’s cycle.

There’s no “should” or “ought to” language here, just a reflection on what is–a perspective that has bedeviled and confused readers of scripture for centuries.

People of faith, after all, crave direction and purpose and often find strength to face life’s unrelenting challenges because we have a sense that we’re at least making progress, or a difference, or doing good work.

But Ecclesiastes tends to withhold such comforts.

Whereas prophets like Isaiah cast a vision of what the world could be if the Faithful changed their ways or lived by love or what will be when God takes decisive action on behalf of the poor and outcast, the Teacher at the heart of Ecclesiastes was laser focused only on what is happening right here, right now–a point of view that has led to charges of nihilism, hedonism, and even godlessness.

Some have asked, where’s hope in this book? Where’s faith? Where’s God?

This morning I want to make this unusual passage into a key to unlock some powerful truths about Advent, waiting, and the relationship between having hope for tomorrow, but being rooted and grounded in the here and now.

So let’s take a closer look at chapter 3 and the song lyrics.

One of the most unsettling aspects of the passage is the inclusion on the list of all things that have their season of forces that we regard as wicked and problematic, specifically killing, war, and hate, for example.

Is Ecclesiastes saying that these aren’t as bad as we’ve been led to believe?

What’s going on here?

I don’t think Ecclesiastes is endorsing destructive actions and attitudes or telling us that they’re somehow part of God’s plan for us.

Ecclesiastes doesn't declare that it’s God’s will that people are going to hate each other so don’t bother trying to change that.

Rather, Ecclesiastes asks a question, “How are you going to live your life in a world where destructive forces like these exist?”

What this passage, this scripture, this Word from God, wants to know, even if your hopes and dreams for peace, justice, and all things holy will be realized tomorrow, what will you do today when those same hopes and dreams look like little more than a flickering candle in a sea of darkness, or, in Ecclesiastes’ famous refrain, when those hopes and dreams look like the “vanity of vanities,” like a cloud of breath dissipating on a snowy morning.

“When you’re waiting for God to move, what do you do in the meantime?” the wise Teacher asks.

One of the readings for this Third Sunday of Advent invites similar considerations.

The Epistle, or Letter, of James addresses a very common phenomenon among Jesus’ followers–the same Jesus who loves and calls people like us has a way of loving and calling people that we don’t care about so much. Rich, poor, men, women, old, young, liberal, conservative–as Saint Paul would say, “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; look, new things have come into being!” (2 Cor. 5:17)

Leaders like James and Paul knew that God was molding and shaping the people into something beautiful and important, inviting and empowering them to participate in Creation’s amazing redemption story, but even as the Spirit continued to work within them, old habits died hard among God’s people.

James recognized that one of the most persistent habits was the way the people talked down to and disrespected one another.

He wrote,

The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of life, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison. (James 3:6-8)

With this, James had identified the fundamental tension at the heart of Christian discipleship–the tension between the promise that we are a New Creation and will be filled with God’s love, but that we’re still, very much, works in progress.

In the language of our Methodist tradition, we are going on to perfection, but we still have a very long way to go.

So, what do we do in the meantime?

Be patient, therefore, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. Brothers and sisters, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. (James 5:7-8)

When we’re waiting for God to complete a good work in our midst, be patient, strengthen your hearts, and don’t grumble against one another.

You know, looking back at The Byrds’ big hit, there were only two lines from the song that Peter Seeger didn’t take directly from the Bible. The first was the title, “Turn, turn, turn.” The second was the song’s last line. That’s where the Seeger shared his own hope for a better world.

A time of love, a time of hate

A time of peace, I swear it's not too late.

That might not come from the Bible, but Seeger’s hope wasn’t misplaced.

Do you carry in your heart today dreams for peace, or healing, or turning your life around, or making a positive difference in our community or in this church?

Are you hoping that tomorrow will be better than today?

Don’t despair because it’s never too late.

And in the meantime, be patient, strengthen your hearts, and don’t grumble against one another.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Image: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pete_Seeger_sings_(cropped).JPG

Angry Birds (Matthew 3:1-12)

Note: I delivered this sermon extemporaneously. The text printed here is a lightly edited AI generated transcript taken from the church's video of the serivce.

John the Baptist is one of those characters who always grabs our attention at this time of year. It is one of the funny things, one of those moments where we sense a little bit of tension between the biblical stories that we read during the leadup to Christmas and the way in which we celebrate Christmas as a culture that while we fill our lives with presents, festive occasions, parties, food, and decorations, we get the wildest, craziest prophet anywhere in the New Testament preaching to us and calling us and inviting us to open ourselves to what God might be doing in our world and in our lives.

John's physical appearance is the stuff of legend. He's wearing the wild clothes, the camel's hair. He's got the leather belt around his waist. He's eating locusts and wild honey.

But above all, his message strikes like an arrow to the heart of the people.

It's simple really.

“Repent. Repent. The kingdom of God has come near.”

We read these words every year during the Advent season. And today, I think it's worth pausing for a moment and to think about what that even means.

What does it mean to repent, to be a people of repentance?

Frankly, we talk about that throughout the year, offering prayers of repentance, acts of repentance throughout our life as Christians.

What does it mean?

What did the people who were drawn to John's message, the people who were coming away from civilization and into the wilderness where he was working and preaching?

What did they understand his message to be?

I think one of the classic ways we're schooled to understand repentance is as an invitation to stop doing the things that we know are wrong. And that's certainly a part of what we're talking about here.

You know, you're doing something, but you keep doing it.

You know it's not right. You're cooking the books, you're telling lies, you know, in your heart, I’ve got to stop doing this stuff.

So, yeah, part of John’s message is “Stop doing those things that you know are hurting people and that you know are wrong!”

But as we dig into John's message and as we kind of look at our lives a little bit, well, obviously if you're doing something wrong, stop doing it. But I think there's something else going on in John's proclamation of repentance.

It seems to me that while we've all willingly done the wrong thing at different times in our lives, most of the trouble we find ourselves in is caused when we've perhaps even stepped out with good intentions but just ended up in a mess. Or we tried something and it didn't work and we were just so stubborn about it, we just kept doing it and we dug ourselves into a deeper and deeper hole.

You know the word in scripture that we translate as sin comes from comes from the Greek and its roots are actually in the practice of archery, in shooting arrows, and in that context the word that we translate as sin means to miss the mark.

It's the archer shooting the arrow and missing the bullseye. And I think that's very evocative and very interesting as we think about what this message of repentance might mean for us because no archer except for the most insane archer would stand up there and say, "I'm deliberately not going to make the best shot possible."

Of course not. Right? They keep trying and they shoot and they miss.

They miss the mark.

Now, a good archer at that point will make the corrections, right?

Did I not judge for the wind? Did I not have the right angle? They will make the correction so their next shot is better.

The foolish archer would say, "I'm going to do the exact same thing I did last time." And they would continue to miss the mark.

Now, I've never been an archer, but I've recently become obsessed with the old video game Angry Birds.

Have any of you ever played that game before?

This has been my little moment of zen. I know some of you do Wordle and you like to stimulate your mind by expanding your vocabulary.

I like throwing angry birds at pigs.

Angry Birds is a puzzle game.

This will sound crazy if you’ve never played the game, but the goal of Angry Birds is to sling shot birds at structures in which there are pigs.

You're trying to knock down the structure and wipe out the pigs.

All right? It's a very, very sensible game.

There are two ways you can play it. One is to get all the pigs. You get to move on to the next level if you get all the pigs.

Or you can try to accumulate the most points to get a three star win and then you move on and try to accumulate as many stars as you can.

I've noticed something in my behavior as I play that game. In the effort to score the most points, I will sit there and repeatedly do the exact same thing, throwing the exact same bird to the exact same spot, expecting a different result, and I will do it repeatedly, obsessively.

It's not healthy. Dana probably wants to take away every device in the house that has this game on it.

But I will sit there, why am I not scoring the point?

Why am I doing the exact same thing expecting a different result?

Then finally, sense and reason take over and I think maybe I have to try a different approach.

Throw this bird over here instead of over here. And you know what?

Almost inevitably within one or two tries with that new perspective, there will be a breakthrough and I'll score the points and get the stars and move on.

I'm convinced that playing Angry Birds is not the only area in our lives where we demonstrate such behavior.

We don't set out to do the wrong thing, but our stubbornness gets the best of us. And even as we are trying to do something, maybe even trying to do something good and positive and uplifting, we keep doing the same thing in the same way, expecting a different result, and we get nowhere with it.

So what if we were to understand repentance as, in addition to stop doing the things that we know are wrong, as an openness to the way in which God might be showing us a better way and a better pattern for doing the things that we'd like to do that will yield the results that we'd like to accomplish.

We talk about making a positive difference in our community.

We talk about being an open and inclusive church.

We talk about living our lives centered in God's goodness and God's grace.

But if we keep doing the exact same things that we've been doing, are we really going to get there?

Are we going to make progress in that regard?

Or do we need to say, "No, I've missed the mark. I want to be open to the correction that I need to hit the mark to accomplish the good and positive things, the holy things that God has set before me.”

John came into the wilderness and said, "Repent. The kingdom of God is near."

I don't think his only goal was to shame people into not doing what they knew was wrong.

I think that there might be something about playing Angry Birds that helps us understand John the Baptist's message a little bit more clearly.

God is present in our midst, moving and guiding and leading us forward.

Are we willing to be humbled, to open our hearts and minds to changing the behaviors and attitudes that have blinded us or led us astray from the path that God would set before us.

Maybe that's what repentance can mean for us today.

Maybe God is calling us to make the corrections to throw the birds at the pigs in a different way, to make the changes that God wills for us so that we might experience the transformation of life and community and heart and mind that God's grace makes possible.

And if we do that, we will truly be a people of Good News.

Thanks be to God for this Good News today. Amen.

Image: Eyck, Jan van, 1390-1440. John the Baptist, Ghent Altarpiece, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the C Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.